#erinswritingchallenge

[justsomebucky]

Everything

Summary: AU. Reader rushes to her ex-boyfriend’s side when he’s in an accident.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,733

Warnings: language, angst, referenced car accident/motorcycle accident, hospital, doctors, injury, fluff, more angst, more fluff, drunk driving mention, nothing gory, I’m not a damn doctor okay? Shonda Rhimes taught me this shit.

A/N: This is my last submission for the lovely Erin’s ( @theassetseyeliner) writing challenge. My prompt was #28. “I got into a car crash and you’re still my emergency contact even though you’re my ex.”  Special thanks to @denialanderror and @soldatbarnes for talking me down from the ledge. Gif credit to @whump-they-it-is since tumblr is dumb and it wouldn’t show up in search even though it was perfect. Thank you!

Phone calls are made for all sorts of reasons, even in the era of texting. They bring sad news, happy news, good news, and bad news…

There are also those sorts of calls that change your life, for better or worse. You were in a meeting with Tony Stark and Happy Hogan when you got that sort of call.

Naturally, you didn’t answer.

There were, of course, three valid reasons why you didn’t answer.

The first is that you were in the meeting and didn’t want to be disrespectful. You had just been promoted to Mr. Hogan’s team lead. It was a highly sought-after position since he was Mr. Stark’s top advisor. You weren’t sure it was exactly what you wanted to do, but it was a start.

The second reason was that you didn’t recognize the number. It was bad enough that you used caller ID to screen people you actually knew (even sometimes your family, which you were a little ashamed to admit). Why would you even bother with a total stranger?

The third was probably worst of all, but it was most applicable: you hated talking on the phone. You spent a lot of your time on a phone as it was for business purposes, so personal calls were put on the back-burner. Why call when you could text?

Why text when that person could just leave you alone, you know?

Anyway, you didn’t answer the first time. There was too much at stake during the meeting.

You had worked hard to get where you were. You’d sacrificed so much, you could finally relate to that girl in The Devil Wears Prada (though Happy and Tony were far nicer than her boss). There were missed appointments, disappointed family members at holiday gatherings, and of course the biggest hit to your life…The Breakup.

You were officially alone again, after a year-long relationship came crashing to the ground about six months ago.

Anyway.

The phone rang a second time when you were walking out of the boardroom with the official company timelines in your hands for the construction and completion of a new facility upstate.

You weren’t in charge of these ventures, but you had to be prepared in case Mr. Hogan became indisposed on some other project, which happened a lot at Stark Industries. If Mr. Stark ever had sudden inspiration for something, you better believe Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts were right there with him, pulled away from everything else they were working on.

You wanted to be that person, too. You wanted the responsibility, the ‘in’ with Tony Stark…you wanted to be worthwhile to the company since you didn’t feel worthwhile anywhere else.

It wasn’t until you were in the quiet safety of your own office that you answered the call on the third attempt. Whoever it was, they were persistent.

You shrugged off your jacket, switching your phone to your other ear as you accepted the call. “Y/N speaking.”

“Hello, this is Dr. Palmer from Memorial Hospital. I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?”

Memorial Hospital? What the hell?

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N. How can I help you, Dr. Palmer?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, I’ve been trying to reach you because you are listed as the emergency contact for James Barnes. You do know him?”

You froze in your seat, eyes wide as you tried to digest what she just said. That was a name you’d been trying to forget.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Please,” you said softly. “Call me Y/N. Is he…is James okay?”

“I don’t typically like to discuss emergency cases over the phone. I –“

“I get it, Doctor. I’ve been through this before. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You pressed end on the call and stood up, grabbing the jacket you’d just placed on the back of your chair to fend off the chilly air.

Mr. Hogan’s secretary Maria looked up at you as you rushed past. “Where are you going? You have another meeting in three hours!”

“I know,” you called back. “It’s an emergency. I’ll be back!”

Her confused face is the last thing you saw before the elevator doors shut.

“Yes, hi, I’m looking for Dr. Palmer?” You leaned over the information desk in the emergency room, trying not to crawl over it and find the information yourself. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were in a freakin’ hurry.

“Which one?” a nurse whose name tag read Scott Lang asked you. “There’s actually several –“

You shook your head at him. “It was a woman in the ER! She took the case for my boyf- my friend James Barnes. Can you look it up that way?”

“Sure I can.” Scott typed for a second, then furrowed his brows at the computer. “I have a Barnes here, but he’s listed as being in the morgue…oh.” He looked up at you. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that.”

You reeled at his words, taking a few steps back and feeling a little faint. Your limbs felt like jelly.

Was Bucky really…gone?

“Oh wait,” Scott continued, typing again. “That said Barnabes. Sorry, my fault. James Barnes has been moved to a private room on the third floor. You could probably find Dr. Palmer there.”

“Oh my god,” you shouted, seething with anger. A few people passing by stopped to stare at you, but you couldn’t help yourself right now. “You can’t just tell people that their loved ones are dead and then say ‘my fault!’”

“Look, lady, I’m sorry. This is my first day. I screwed up, okay? Please don’t tell my supervisor, I’ve got a kid at home,” Scott pleaded. “I really am sorry.”

It took a second or two, but you managed to get your breathing under control enough to speak at a normal volume. “Fine. What is the room number?”

“Three-ten.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “I won’t say anything, Mr. Lang. But please be a little more careful.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way to the third floor.

Nurses and doctors were rushing around, some with worry etched on their faces, and some laughing and joking with each other. How could so many different emotions be taking place in one building?

Babies were being born just as others were dying mere floors away. It was truly insane to think about.

You slowed down when you got close to his room, and as you peered in you realized no one was in there with him.

But Bucky…

He was laying there on the crisp white hospital sheets with about ten different wires and gadgets attached to him. You glanced up to the heart monitor, where the signal showed a steady, strong beat.

For that you were so very grateful.

You moved closer to the bed, careful not to disturb anything as your eyes raked over him. He had scrapes all over his face and arms, and butterfly bandages over several cuts on his chin and forehead.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, reaching out to brush a strand of his long brown hair back.

“He was in a motorcycle accident.”

Your hand recoiled as you looked up at Dr. Palmer. Either you’d been too focused on Bucky to notice her, or she was super stealthy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said, reaching her hand out to shake yours.

You felt a little mortified at the fact that you still didn’t quite have full strength back from the little information desk episode. Your hand was clammy and shaking.

“Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Palmer.”

“Please, call me Christine.”

You nodded. “So, an accident? Is he okay?”

Christine flipped a page on the chart. “James is- “

“Bucky,” you interrupted. “He prefers to be called Bucky. It’s a, uh..it’s a nickname.”

“Bucky,” she repeated. “Okay, good to know. Bucky is asleep. We gave him some powerful painkillers after he complained of severe abdomen pain upon arriving at the ER. He’s got some lacerations, contusions, and three bruised ribs. He’s going to have limited mobility for a while. Little things like lifting heavy objects, reaching for things, and vigorous physical activities are not going to be possible until he heals a little.”

You nodded again. “But he’s okay? I mean, no permanent damage, no brain trauma, nothing like that?”

The doctor pressed her lips in a straight line while she glanced over more of the chart. “Actually, when the EMT asked him his name, he remembered, but he also got the date wrong. He thought it was six months ago.”

“Amnesia? Is it permanent?” The thought of Bucky forgetting any part of his life made you nauseated.

“It’s most likely temporary. I’ve seen it before, especially after a quick trauma like this. Could be hours, could be days…maybe more, but not likely. We’re going to have to wait until he wakes back up to determine if there’s any residual effects from a potential concussion.”

“Why would he be allowed to sleep if you thought there might be a concussion?” you asked, frowning at the doctor. “I’ve had them, and the first thing they told me was to not go to sleep.”

“And the first thing you did was?”

“Sleep,” you admitted.

Christine nodded. “The body knows how to heal itself in most cases, Y/N. We didn’t believe there was any major brain trauma when he was brought in, and his first scans showed no signs of swelling or bleeding. He had been wearing his helmet thankfully. So, we wait until he wakes up.”

“What exactly happened in the accident? In case he can’t remember but wants to know?”

“The police said a drunk driver ran a red light,” she explained. “They knocked him off his motorcycle onto the hood of their car. He’s lucky that was all. If he had landed on the pavement or been thrown elsewhere, we’d be discussing a situation way worse than this.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes flickered back to Bucky’s sleeping form. “So with those injuries, how long will he be kept here?”

“Probably just overnight, to be honest.”

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to process all of this. Bucky could have died.

He could have died.

Christine started walking backwards toward the door. “I have other patients to see, but if you need me just press the call button.”

“Thank you.”

You grabbed one of the chairs from the corner and dragged it closer to the bed, sitting still for a moment while you stared at his face. The sound of him breathing with oxygen tubes up his nose was sort of weird. It reminded you of how deeply he used to sleep when he was beside you at night.

“Your hair’s longer,” you murmured, leaning forward. “And you need a shave, Buck.”

The realization that he could wake up at any second and find you here fawning over him made you a little bit uncomfortable, but when would you get another opportunity to say what you were thinking without him arguing back?

“I have no idea why you kept me on as your emergency contact. In fact, you probably forgot all about it. I don’t think you’d want me here…not after everything we said to each other. We argued about everything…money…schedules…we found a way to be angry. It wasn’t healthy.”

You sighed, shifting back in your seat a little as you let your eyes drift to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s for the best that we broke up. I only seemed to make you miserable.”

Little patterns of grey and white speckled the ceiling tiles. You hated that Bucky would wake up and the first thing he’d look at would be these ugly tiles. He should be home, safe in bed…not here.

“I know I put work first a lot. It’s dumb but…Bucky, you’re so successful, you know? You worked hard to get where you are and I didn’t want to be the one leeching from you. I wanted to establish myself…”

The whirring sound of the air being circulated was your only response.

This was actually really therapeutic for you. Maybe the two of you could have made it had you bothered to stop yelling and actually listen. You were just as much at fault about that as Bucky was.

Oh well.

“Was it worth it? I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, your voice catching a little. “I feel like the breakup made me wake up a little, you know? I feel like…it’s that old stupid saying, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

Being honest and vulnerable wasn’t really your thing. That’s probably why this was easier with Bucky asleep.

“I thought that working even more hours and distracting myself would help, but it hasn’t. I still love you, after all…I loved you then. I wanted to be with you. I assumed I was doing enough, and we broke up anyway.”

Good thing he was a heavy sleeper.

“I didn’t want to lose you. It’s my fault.” Your voice had gone down to a whisper again, eyes filling with tears as you finally said it out loud. The ugly ceiling tiles blurred into one big ugly blob. You blinked a few times, causing the tears to roll from your eyes down your cheeks, where you wiped them away quickly.

No one needed to see that.

“I guess, if I had to say something to you without you knowing, it would be that I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Your eyes widened and you sat back up at the sound of Bucky’s soft, raspy voice. His eyes were still closed and his brow was furrowed.

“How long were you awake?” you asked, your tone more accusatory than you intended.

“Long enough.” Bucky’s blue-grey eyes struggled to open from his medicated haze. He blinked a few times, focusing on the awful wallpaper across from him, then shifted his gaze to you.

You wanted to hide from him. You felt stupid for assuming he was sleeping this whole time, stupid for revealing your deepest thoughts to the one person who should have heard them six months ago, long before the two of you ended things.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Your leg started shaking involuntarily and you tried to shift to a more comfortable position, as if there was one. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Don’t go back in your little shell. I get that you- “

You watched with wide eyes as he grimaced in pain. “Should I get a nurse?”

Bucky turned his head slightly. “Not yet. Can I get- is there water?”

There was a little pink pitcher and plastic cup sitting on the table beside his head, so you stood up and poured a half-glass of water for him, holding it to his lips as he took a sip.

“Thank you.”

Since you were already up, maybe now was the time to exit. “They told me that you had to stay overnight, Buck, so I should probably go. I’ve got another meeting to get to, and I…” Your voice trailed off as you realized he was chuckling.

“Oh, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that. Your ribs are bruised.”

“It’s just too classic, Y/N. You running out on me for work. Give Mr. Stark my regards.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You want to do this here? Bucky, you nearly died today. I don’t want to fight.”

“Then sit down and finish telling me what you tried to when you thought I was asleep.”

The two of you had a stare down for a second, but you eventually relented, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair.

“What did you hear?” you asked again.

“That you didn’t want to lose me, and that you were sorry. But even the doctor said that I wasn’t really hurt, you know. You aren’t gonna lose me. Close call or not, I’m still kicking.”

He thought you meant lose him to death.

Well, that too, but…what a silly man.

“I didn’t mean lose you specifically today, though that would have been…let’s not even talk about that. I meant lose you back then, six months ago when we broke up. And I am sorry, by the way. I did mean that sincerely.”

Bucky looked confused. “What are you talking about? None of this makes sense…I thought I was the one who bumped my head?”

Dr. Palmer’s words about possible amnesia as a side effect of a concussion came back to you.

“Bucky, what is today’s date?”

He made a face at you. “They already asked me that in the ER. It’s May something. I was always bad with dates.”

“It’s November, Buck,” you murmured, frowning at him. “I need to find the doctor.”

Steve Rogers enveloped you in a big hug the second he laid eyes on you in the waiting room. “How’s Bucky?”

You pulled back, letting your arms fall to your sides. “He’s got some cuts and bruises…he bruised three ribs. He seems to have a concussion.”

“Wow, he got lucky,” he commented, leaning against the wall.

The two of you were standing outside the waiting room door, far enough out of earshot of Bucky’s room that you could discuss things freely.

You had to tell Steve the truth.

“The doctor said he’s got a bit of temporary amnesia.” You looked at Steve, concentrating on his bright, warm eyes to stop from crying again. “At least, they think it’s temporary.”

Steve’s face fell. “Oh, no. How long of a time frame has he forgotten?”

“Six months.”

Understanding flashed in his eyes. “So he doesn’t remember that the two of you broke up, does he?”

“No,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. “It could be from a concussion, could be from the meds they gave…a specialist is with him now.”

“How are you holding up, Y/N?”

You glanced back up at him. “I’m supposed to be back at work here in about twenty minutes. Do you think you could sit with him through dinner?”

“Sure, I don’t mind at all.”

“I’m surprised you weren’t his emergency contact.”

Steve gave you a look. “I’m not.”

When you didn’t reply, he kept talking.

“Y/N, Bucky never does anything without good reason. So that means there’s a good reason why he left you on the call list.”

“But we broke –“

“It doesn’t matter. That love doesn’t just disappear,” he told you gently, reaching up to brush an errant tear off your cheek. “He still had hope that the two of you would reconcile.”

You turned away from Steve, glancing down the hallway toward room three-ten. “Does it matter? If all we were was angry, does it matter?”

“I think it does. You both were hurt, and learning together how to be in a mature partnership. You’ve grown a lot since this, haven’t you?”

“I- I guess?”

Steve’s mouth lifted a little. “Come on. Give yourself some credit. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t, knowing full well that it could lead to something uncomfortable. You can’t tell that the thought of reconciling didn’t cross your mind, at least since you spoke with him?”

Well, when he put it that way…

“And Bucky’s grown, that I’m sure of,” he continued. “He’s tried to become better at listening. He’s working on himself, too.”

“That’s…that’s good.”

“It is.” Steve reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll remember eventually, and the two of you can talk it out at the very least. But you’re here, Y/N, and that says everything in my opinion.”

You nodded, pulling Steve in for another hug. “Why are you so smart all the time?”

“I’m just observant,” he replied, kissing the top of your head gently. He pulled back and gave you a little push down the hallway. “Now go to your meeting. We’ll be fine.”

Happy and Tony kept you longer than you expected, though Pepper was missing in action for the first half of the meeting.

When she walked in, the first thing she did was sit beside you and offer you a smile. There was something in her eyes that you’d never seen directed at you before, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“So Y/N, when do you think you can make the trip upstate?”

“The, uh…the trip?” You were confused; no one had ever mentioned you taking a work trip.

“Yes,” Happy said, sounding a little irritated. “It’s in the itinerary on your desk. I take it you never made it back to your office from your emergency?”

“I didn’t tell Maria to put it on her desk,” Pepper spoke up, pushing a file in front of you. “And she isn’t going upstate, Happy, that’s currently your job if I remember correctly. I was nosy and read over Y/N’s proposals from the beginning of the year, and I loved almost all of them. There are a few I want to get started on right away. She’d waste away on some construction site upstate.”

He looked completely baffled. “But –“

“No buts, you heard her,” Tony said, clearly enjoying himself. He grinned at Happy. “Better get packing, pal.”

Happy grumbled to himself the entire time from the chair, to the doorway, and all the way down the hall from what you could hear.

“So uh, what’s the word?”

Your eyes flitted back to Tony’s. “I’m sorry?”

“The person in the ER. He okay?”

Pepper gave you an apologetic smile. “I called to have flowers sent after Maria told me. She was worried about you. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

You shrugged. “He’s not that bad off. Cuts and bruises, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Tony said, glancing at Pepper.

“Tony’s been in a lot of accidents,” she told you, rubbing your back. “He seems to think he’s invincible.”

“Incredible is the word you’re looking for, darling.”

Pepper chose to ignore him. “Listen, we discussed it and we want you to take some time off. Go be with him until he’s well again.”

“But he’s…but what about –“

“Happy’s taking over the projects permanently, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tony interrupted, pushing his glasses up his nose. “He’s going to be upstate for the remainder of the construction and development. I’m reassigning you to Pepper’s team, where your hours won’t be nearly as long because she’s a bleeding heart softy.”

What the what?

“That means I’m your new boss,” Pepper added, smirking at Tony before giving you a warm smile. “And I say take all the time you need. When you come back, we’re gonna start on some of the projects you had in mind, okay?”

Was this real life?

“Thank you.” You tried not to get too excited and emotional. “I can’t even begin to thank you both enough.”

“Actually, you can,” Tony countered, giving a little shrug. “By coming back and kicking some major ass.”

You were full-on grinning now. “That I can definitely do.”

Four hours had gone by. It had been four hours since you left Steve to sit with Bucky.

By the time you got back to the hospital, you felt like you had entered the Twilight Zone or something. Nothing was making sense, but you weren’t about to question your sudden good fortune at work.

And you weren’t about to squander this second chance they’d given you to make things right, even if it just meant repairing your friendship.

Steve was still sitting in the chair beside Bucky, though you could tell he was tired and wanted to leave.

“Go home to Nat,” you said, giving him a smile. “I’ve got this.”

He said goodnight to you both and took off, leaving you alone with your ex-boyfriend.

“So, while you were gone, a funny thing happened.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, as if waiting for you to guess.

You didn’t need more than one guess. With a knowing sigh, you flopped into that wonderfully uncomfortable chair once again. “Your memory came back?”

Bucky nodded. “Steve mentioned something to me that sounded familiar but not. Ever have that happen? Where you can practically feel the answer on the tip of your tongue but you aren’t quite there?”

“I guess?”

“Anyways, he brought up maybe asking Natasha to marry him. And I thought to myself, wait a minute…they just met, didn’t they? Turns out, they met about a year ago, halfway through our relationship.”

You waited for the hammer to fall.

Bucky looked down at his hands for a second. There was something in his palm, something he was turning over and over.

When he looked back up at you, he also held up the object.

It was a diamond ring.

“I’m confused,” you said, unable to tear your eyes away from the ring. “Is that for Natasha? Why do you have it?”

“Y/N, if this was truly six months ago like my brain tried to tell me, I’d have given you this by now.” He turned the ring a little so you could see it better. “They found it after the accident, still stuck in my wallet where I’ve been keeping it all this time.”

“What?” you whispered, feeling your own hands started to shake. This was all news to you.

Holy shit…what a mess.

“Yeah, I found it in this bag of my personal effects over there on the nightstand,” he said, nodding to the table where his water cup sat. “I stared at it for a minute. And after that, I remembered everything.”

Your eyes met his again, unsure of how to react.

“Say something,” he pleaded, lowering his hand and gripping the ring in his palm again.

“What do you want me to say, Bucky?” Your eyes filled with those damned tears again, something that happened more today than it had since the week you broke up. “I fucked up.”

“I fucked up, too, Y/N. We both had issues.”

You nodded, looking down while tears slipped off your chin and landed on your jeans.

“I feel like this is a second chance for us, though,” Bucky added in a softer tone. “Don’t you?”

This time when you met his gaze, and all the fight…the walls he put back up…all of it was gone. It was just Bucky, your Bucky, with a hopeful light in his eyes.

“Bucky,” you began, feeling your resolve slip a little. “We fought before. What makes you think we won’t now?”

“Maybe we just had to grow up a little.” The corner of his mouth lifted, and the hand not clutching the ring reached for yours.

You let him grasp your hand, giving his a little squeeze in return. “Maybe.”

“And you can’t tell me you didn’t miss me, Y/N. I mean, you rushed here, worried about me, and it wasn’t because we’re friends.”

“No,” you admitted, trying and failing to hide your own smile. “It wasn’t that.”

“So we try again. This time, we stop to listen to each other. This time we work things out before letting it escalate to anger and resentment. I’m guilty of it, too, and…well, if you wanted to try, I promise I’d try harder.”

“Can I ask you…why did you leave me on as your emergency contact?” You bit your lip, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

He probably just forgot.

Bucky gave you a big smile. “You think I’d want Steve’s mug to be the first one I see after something like this?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling at his joke. Even when he was in pain, he was always trying to make someone else laugh.

His smile faded as he watched you. “No, seriously, Y/N. In a real emergency, I can’t think of anyone I’d want to be here with me more than you. And that…”

Now Bucky was blinking rapidly, trying to keep his composure. You didn’t need to hear the end of his sentence to understand his sentiment.

You stood and leaned over, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips.

That was everything.

That’s what Bucky had been about to say.

You understood, because that’s how you felt, too.

“Hold on to that ring, then,” you instructed, giving him a bright smile. “Because if we’re giving this another go, I’m not letting you get away this time.”

His eyes were mischievous again. “Did you learn how to get what you want from Tony Stark?“

“Pepper Potts, actually.”

You shut him up with another kiss.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

The King’s Cook

Pairings: King!Bucky x servant!Reader

Summary: King James develops a fascination with you, the castle cook.

Warnings: Implied/referenced smut.

Notes: For Erin’s (@theassetseyeliner) AU writing challenge! My prompt was: “You don’t care about me anymore, do you? Did you ever?” -- in bold somewhere in the fic.

This is my first foray into a Medieval AU — I quite like how it turned out. Fair warning: this fairytale has no happy ending.

My Masterlist || gif source

Never, not even in your wildest dreams, did you imagine yourself in this position.

It had started when Maria, the head cook came stomping into the kitchen earlier this evening. “You, new girl!” she cried, pointing a finger imperiously in your direction. Your heart had stopped, eyes widening in mild terror.

“Come. You are to serve the King his dinner,”.

“M-me, madam?” you stammered, setting down the knife you’d been using to peel potatoes as you stood up and brushed off your apron.

“Yes, you,” Maria snapped impatiently. “The usual girl, what is her name? Sheila? No, Sharon! Yes, Sharon — she is ill and unable to go, so I am sending you in her stead,”.

“B-but, I—,”

“Come on,” Maria hissed, grabbing hold of your forearm and dragging you over to the side table, where a tureen of beef stew was waiting to be taken up to the King. Maria glanced over your outfit and clucked disapprovingly, producing a rag from the pocket of her apron and using it to wipe the grime off your face. “Nothing we can do about the clothes, unfortunately,” she muttered under her breath. Maria straightened up, put her hands on your shoulders and levelled you with a stern glare.

“See here, girl,” she began, “You are to take this stew up to King James. You know where he dines, yes?”. After you nodded your confirmation, she continued, “Serve the stew into his bowl, try not to spill any on yourself, do not look him in the eye and only speak if he addresses you, understood?”

“Yes, madam,” you replied meekly.

“Now, for heaven’s sake, go!” Maria cried, thrusting a ladle into your hand, “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting!”

And that is how you ended up here, making your way up the stairs to King James’ dining hall. To say that you’re nervous would be an understatement; you’re practically quivering with fear, hands trembling so hard you’re worried that you might spill the hot stew all over yourself.

You’ve only been working in the castle for about a fortnight and so have yet to lay eyes on the King. Wanda, the castle maid with whom you share a room with, claims that he is extremely handsome, if rather reserved. The King is reputed for having a fierce temper and is known to be particularly sulky at times. You hope that tonight is not one of those times.  

You make it to the dining hall without incident, pausing outside the heavy oak doors for a moment to take a calming breath.

The room is ornately decorated in opulent shades of red, gold and emerald green. King James sits at the head of a long table, so you walk quickly towards him, careful to keep your head bowed. Though Maria had said to not look him in the eye, this does not prevent you from stealing glances at him through your lashes.

King James looks as regal as Wanda had described. Though he is swathed in thick robes of forest green, there is no hiding his muscular, well-built body. His dark hair flows over his shoulders, perfectly complimenting the devilish glint in his shocking blue eyes. You feel a distracting heat beginning to bloom in your core and you pray that he doesn’t notice your apprehension.

When you get to his side, you set the tureen on the table, pick up your ladle and beginning spooning the stew into his bowl. From the corner of your eye, you can see the King watching you with an amused smirk on his lips.

Just as you’re about to pick up your things and leave, his hand darts out and closes around your wrist. You gasp in surprise, startled by the sudden movement. His grip is not rough or forceful, just meant to hold you in place.

“You’re the new girl, aren’t you?” the King asks quietly, his voice deep and husky in a way that makes your heart flutter and your knees go weak. You force yourself to nod mutely in answer, not quite confident in your ability to form words, right now.

“What was your name, again?”

You dare to lift your eyes up to look at his face. This close, you can see how exquisitely stunning he is, those blue eyes observing you intently, as if he can see into your soul. As the seconds tick by, you feel your pulse accelerating, heart hammering against your ribs. It is a wonder that the King doesn’t hear it. “It—it’s Y/N,” you mumble.

The King hums thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side as his inquisitive gaze roams over your face. “Well, Y/N, I trust that you are happy working in the kitchens,”, he says.

“Y-yes, your majesty,” you reply, “I—I really do enjoy m-my work,”.

King James chuckles, sitting back in his chair as he releases you from his grip. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers around your wrist, a hauntingly familiar touch that you ache to feel again. “You may go now,” he says, flapping his hand at you in a dismissive motion, “Though I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you soon, Y/N,”. You bob your head in some semblance of a bow, pick up the tureen and flee out of the dining hall, trying not to let your giddy excitement show too much.

—————————

“I heard you were sent to give the King his dinner,” Wanda comments, as she brushes the tangles out of her hair. The two of you are in the small bedroom which you share in the servants quarters.

“I was,” you confirm.

“And how was that?”

You don’t reply immediately, pausing to lace up the ties on your simple linen nightgown. “He was…unusual,” you murmur, “It seemed like he was interested in me,”.

Wanda snorts. “I’m sure he’s like that to all the maids in the castle,” she scoffs. “Probably beds a different girl every night. Certainly has the wealth to do so,”.

“Maybe,” you agree, even though you can’t help but think that Wanda is wrong. Whatever happened between you and the King was something unique. The moment had felt charged, electric even. There was an intense curiosity behind those blue eyes, a force that connected with you on a deeper level.

But then again, perhaps that is just your wishful thinking. Wanda has worked in the castle for longer, after all, she’s probably more aware of the King’s habits. You sigh heavily as you climb into bed, lying on your side to face Wanda.

“Why has he not wed anyone yet?” you ask.

She shrugs one shoulder indifferently. “I’ve heard that the pressure on him is mounting to produce an heir to the kingdom. Lady Potts has been suggested as a potential suitor, as has Lady Romanoff,”.

You hum thoughtfully. “Well, whoever he weds, I hope they make him happy,” you murmur, “I think he deserves it,”.

—————————

Over the next few days, you become increasingly aware of the King’s presence. No matter where you are in the castle, or what it is you’re doing, he always manages to show up — if, only for the briefest moment of time — casting that curious gaze over you, watching discreetly from the shadows. The more King James observes you, the more difficult it is to get thoughts of him out of your head; they plague you constantly, a cloud of fantasies and sinful desires which you keep to yourself.

It is just your luck when, a couple of weeks after you’d served the King his soup, Maria dashes into the kitchen late in the evening, a mildly panicked look on her face. You are the only cook still remaining, so she turns to you.

“Take this to the King’s study!” she cries, thrusting a decanter of port into your hands, “I cannot believe I have forgotten to send Sharon up with his nightly port!”

You stand there, dumbfounded by your orders. Maria growls in frustration, grabbing your elbow and hustling you out of the kitchen. “Quick girl, take the shortcut passage to the drawing room, hurry!” she urges.

You hasten down the corridor, heart racing in your chest at the thought of seeing King James up close once more. The shortcut passage is dark, forcing you to squint in the dim lighting. You pray that you’re going the right way; the entire castle is filled with narrow shortcut corridors like this one, meant for servants to use to travel quickly from one place to another. You try to conjure up a map of the castle in your head — this passage should lead you to the drawing room opposite the library, and the King’s chamber should be to the left—

“Oomph!”

Something large and incredibly solid crashes into you, sending the bottle of port tumbling to the floor, the glass shattering into a million shards with a sickening smash. In the darkness, you’d failed to notice the person coming down the corridor in the opposite direction. You can feel wetness seeping into the material of your bodice, making your dress cling to your skin — some of the port must have spilled onto you.

You huff angrily. “Why you little—,”

“Oh ho ho, what is this?” asks a dark, gravelly voice. You freeze, recognising it immediately. “If it isn’t little Y/N, getting angry at the King for her own clumsiness,”.

“I—didn’t—I’m sorry—,” you stammer, words failing you in your shock.

“You should be,” the King hisses, taking ahold of your wrist and dragging you down the corridor after him. His strides are much longer than yours, forcing you to walk at a fast trot in order to keep up. You know that it is futile to resist him; King James is much stronger than you and if he so wanted, could carry you with ease. Besides, if he is already furious with you, there is no point in angering him further.

You’ll finally get a glimpse of that infamous temper of his.

The King walks briskly to his chambers, shouldering open the door to his study effortlessly. Now that the lighting has improved, you can see that he’s taken off the formal robes he wears during the day and changed into a simple pair of trousers and a white linen shirt. Vibrant pink is splashed over the front of his shirt, where the port has spilled. You cringe internally at the sight, mentally preparing yourself for the berating that will inevitably come.

To your surprise — and confusion — the King doesn’t say anything. You wait by the door, hands folded in front of you, your head bowed respectfully. King James stalks over to his desk, untying the laces of his shirt as he goes. With his back to you, he pulls the shirt over his head and drops it onto the table. You stifle a gasp at the sight of his bare back; sinuous muscles ripple underneath his skin, which glows invitingly by the light of the fire.

What interests you more is the extensive scarring over his left arm. Ridges of darkened tissue bloom over his shoulder, twisting and coiling their way down the limb, going as far down as his wrist. You vaguely remember Sharon telling you that the King had been involved in a terrible accident during battle, leaving his arm mangled and almost unsalvageable.

He turns to you now, padding swiftly across the room to stand in front of you. Your breath hitches in your throat as the King draws near. You’re fighting to keep your gaze trained on the floor, ignoring the overwhelming urge to roam your eyes over his half-naked body.

“Tell me, Y/N, are you afraid?” the King asks softly.

“Y-yes, your majesty,” you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“What do you think I will do?”

There is something in the tone of his voice that piques your interest; amusement mixed with a note of concern. Though it is a risky gesture, you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. You’re taken aback by the softness in his gaze — perhaps he does not intend to punish you after all.

“I…don’t know, your majesty,” you answer honestly, “I was careless, and should have seen you coming. I am sorry,”.

“I wouldn’t fret about it,” the King assures you, “I should have been more watchful myself. Besides, I have plenty of shirts — the loss of one is not a huge concern to me,”.

You breathe out an internal sigh of relief, overjoyed by this turn of events.

“Would you like to stay, Y/N?” he asks.

“Your majesty?” you murmur uncertainly, your mouth twisting into a frown. Does the King wish to send you away from the castle?

“Please,” says the King, “Call me Bucky, when we are alone. I drop the title on the other side of this door,”.

“Bucky,” you repeat, feeling the syllables roll off your tongue with a surprisingly familiar ease. “But I thought your name was James, your ma—Bucky,” you correct yourself.

Bucky smiles gently, “Yes, it is. James is my formal name, but Bucky is a nickname I allow the people closest to me to use,”. A thrilled shiver runs down your spine at the implication behind his words.

You nod slowly, licking your lips before speaking again. “Why—why would you want me to stay, Bucky?”

A shy smile spreads over his lips. “You are incredibly beautiful, princess,” Bucky breathes, one hand reaching out to cup your cheek.

“Princess?” you echo, brows knitting in confusion, “But I am no princess, Bucky. I’m just a humble cook,”.

“This is true,” Bucky agrees, “But in here, with me, you can be my princess. Would you like that?”. His thumb is brushing over your cheekbone, touch gentle and hesitant. You cannot stop yourself from leaning your head to the side, pressing your cheek into Bucky’s palm. You have a feeling you know exactly what the King’s intentions are, but you have no desire or will to resist them. This might lead you to your ruin, but Bucky is, without question, the man you want to be with.

“Yes,” you reply, tipping your head back to look into his soulful blue eyes, “I would like that very much,”.

—————————

A few nights later, you’re startled when someone raps their knuckles on the door to your bedchambers. Wanda frowns, puzzled as to who could possibly be wanting to see you at this late hour. You get out of bed and cross the room to open the door, stunned to find the King’s closest advisor, Lord Steve, on the other side.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he says formally, bowing his head in respect. “The King has summoned you to his chambers. Follow me, if you please,”.

You look at Wanda over your shoulder, whose eyebrows have shot up so high, they almost disappear into her hairline. She winks at you, jerking her head to the side in a silent go.

“Yes, of course,” you say to the Lord, pulling the door shut behind you, “Lead the way,”.

Lord Steve takes you down a series of corridors towards the King’s chambers. He stops beside a small room and pushes the door open, gesturing for you to step inside. “Go inside,” he instructs, “There is a dress there for you. You may leave the rest of your clothes on the table after you’ve changed. I will wait here,”.

“Yes sir,” you murmur, stepping inside. The Lord shuts the door after you.

It’s a small bath chamber, a basin filled with water in one corner of the room, a bar of soap and a rag beside it. Against the opposite wall is a table, on top of which lies an exquisite black lace dress, that seems to reveal more than it covers. Hanging from a hook on the wall is a long black cloak, presumably for you to wear on top of the dress so as to preserve your modesty.

You hastily strip off your nightclothes and step into the basin, groaning as the hot water kisses your skin. Picking up the soap and rag, you work up a good amount of lather, then use the rag to clean yourself as best as possible. You wash the grime for underneath your nails and rub at your skin until it is scrubbed raw. After your late-night tryst with Bucky a few days ago, you have a feeling you know what you’re in for tonight, and want to be as nice as possible for him.

Once you’re satisfied with your cleanliness, you pick up the small towel beside the basin to dry yourself off. Then, you cross over to the table and carefully pick up the lace dress. As you hold it up, you see that the lace has been interwoven with silver threads that catch the light and sparkle seductively whenever the dress moves. You put it on, fastening the row of buttons down the front of the bodice whilst marvelling at how well the garment accentuates your body. After donning the cloak and ensuring that it covers everything, you go outside to meet Lord Steve.

The walk to Bucky’s chambers is silent. Steve knocks thrice on the door and, upon hearing Bucky’s call of ‘enter’, gestures for you to go inside.

Bucky is pacing back and forth over the floor of his study, robes half-off and in disarray. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, eyes immediately going soft and tender.

“My princess,” he says quietly, rushing over to your side, “I have been dying to see you again,”.

“Me too, your maj—Bucky,” you reply, smiling coyly at him. Bucky’s eyes flick up and down your body. When he notes the black cloak, his eyes widen infinitesimally.

“The dress? It’s to your liking?” Bucky asks breathlessly, his big hands coming to rest on your waist. You lean up on your tiptoes and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I want you to see it,” you whisper, taking one of his hands and bringing it to the fastening on your cloak. His breath quickens, pupils dilating as he fumbles to get it open. The dark material pools around your feet, revealing you in that glorious dress. Bucky looks like he’s about ready to eat you alive; you’ll happily let him do so, if that’s what he wishes.

“My princess,” he growls, eyes darkening with lust, “You truly are beautiful,”.

—————————

Wanda pulls you aside one evening as you’re sneaking away to Bucky’s chambers, a grim set to her jaw. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, but she claps her hand over it, pulling you into an alcove. She glances up and down the corridor to ensure that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation — your affair with the King is still a secret, after all.

“Lady Romanoff is arriving at the castle in two days’ time,” Wanda says tersely.

Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach at her words. “What—what does she want?” you ask, voice strained.

Wanda sighs, squeezing your shoulder gently. “We’ve…been asked to prepare the bridal chambers for her arrival,”.

“Bridal chambers?” you hiss, stomach doing a nauseating flip-flop at the word.

“Yes,” Wanda replies, lips pursed. “I am to be one of her ladies in waiting. They are to be married, Y/N. The wedding arrangements have been going on in secret for months, apparently,”.

Your heart stills inside your chest, icy-cold talons of dread encircling it in a vice-like grip. It is as if your entire world is collapsing around you, since the one source of happiness in your life has been cruelly ripped out of it. If he knew about this, why would he lead you on with his promises of a forever together?

“You can’t go back to him, Y/N,” Wanda whispers sadly, “Not when he is to be married to someone else,”.

“I at least need to see him again,” you protest, crossing your arms over your chest, “To ask—to…for answers,”.

Wanda seems hesitant to agree, but shrugs nonetheless. “If…you think that is wise,”.

“Thank you, Wanda,” you say sincerely, squeezing her hand, “For telling me of this. I will—,”

“There’s no need,” she assures you, “I wish you the best in there Y/N. Crossing a member of the royal family is not for the faint-hearted and weak,”.

You hurry through the castle, rage simmering below the surface of your skin as you reflect upon your foolish naivety.

The few months you’d had together are beyond what words could describe. You cannot remember how you lived without him; Bucky is your sun, your moon, the only thing holding you to this planet. Every moment you’d shared together you treasure dearly. Your heart is completely devoted to your King, belonging to him entirely. There is no doubt of it in your mind; you would’ve done anything for him, surrendered yourself completely to him, if that is what he asked of you.

It’s a shame that Bucky does not feel the same.

You’re on edge when you step into Bucky’s study and he picks up on this immediately. He comes to your side and wraps his arms around your waist, rests his chin atop your head.

“My princess,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the small of your back. “What troubles you?”

There is no skirting around the issue here, it is best to get this over and done with as fast as possible. “Why did you never tell me?” you ask coldly.

Bucky tenses, the hand on your back stilling all of a sudden. “Tell you…what?” Bucky asks slowly.

“Don’t play the fool,” you snap, pushing him away from you. Bucky swallows nervously when he sees the livid fire in your eyes. “I know that you are to wed Lady Romanoff in a few days’ time. You’ve been planning this for months — why didn’t you tell me?” you scream.

He hesitates, disconcerted by the unbidden rage in your tone. In his silence, you press onwards, throwing more accusations his way.

“You don’t care about me anymore, do you? Did you ever?” you snarl, fighting to keep your voice steady despite the anguish threatening to bubble out of you. “Did I ever mean something to you, or was I just another girl to bed? A conquest? A game for you to play with? Was my heart nothing more than another one of your toys?” you ask, voice becoming shriller and more hysterical at the end.

Bucky shakes his head fervently, hands reaching out to cup your face. You swat them away angrily.

“Princess, I—,”

“Don’t you princess me, your majesty,” you mock, “We both know that I am not a princess. That’s the problem there, isn’t it?”

“I love you,” he says desperately, collapsing to his knees in front of you, hands fisting in the skirt of your dress. “Please, I swear on my life, I love you,”.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say curtly, gingerly disentangling his fingers from your skirts. “You love me, yet you’re marrying her,”.

“No, Y/N, please believe me,” Bucky pleads, the torment evident in his tone, “I do love you, I love you with all of my heart,”.

“That may be true,” you concede, “But I will always love you more. How can your love for me ever match my love for you, if you choose to marry her?”.

“Choose?” Bucky repeats in disbelief, “I have no choice,”.

You shake your head sadly, allowing the back of your hand to graze over his stubbled cheek one last time. “I have always known that this would end, your majesty,” you murmur, “Goodbye, my King. Please, if you truly mean what you say, do not send for me again,”.

And with that, you turn on your heel and dash out of his chambers.

Bucky may well have loved you with every fibre of his being, but the truth is, you have always loved him more; that is a fact that will likely haunt you for the rest of your miserable existence. You’d dared to cross a royal — which itself is an act worthy of punishment — but at this point, death may be more merciful than life. A life without him by your side is the most barbaric form of torture you could ever imagine. Can it even be called living if your heart has been torn out of your chest, leaving a yawning cavern of despair in its wake?

You don’t think so.

-------------------------- Taglist is open, but I’m only accepting requests via PM or asks! Tagging requests through comments/replies will be discounted. 

[bbybucky-fics]

a dame to kill for — steve rogers x reader

summary: no one messes with you and gets away with it | mobster!steve au

word count: 2689

warnings: violence, guns, swear words

a/n: this is my entry for @theassetseyeliner  writing challenge!

The blood stain on his shirt says more than he ever could, Steve knows this as he looks down at the sanguine specs littering his once white crisp shirt. His knuckles are bloodied and bruised, deep shades of purple and red becoming increasingly normal to the man who ruled over New York.

Steve sighs, a deep guttural groan emitting from his throat as he stands on the curb impatiently tapping his feet. He holds his phone in the palm of his hand anxiously waiting for the call that never comes. Steve waits and then the blacked-out SUV comes swerving around the corner and haphazardly parks in front of the curb. “Finally,” he mumbles with slight annoyance as his long-time friend Bucky steps out of the car smirking at him.

“What did you do this time?” Bucky asks eyes glued to the vibrant blood against the white of Steve’s dress shirt.

“Took care of business whilst you were out trying to impress some dame. What’s her name again, Natalie, Natasha?” Steve asks as he runs a hand through his hair.

Bucky chuckles despite fear residing in him even though he and Steve were close it didn’t mean he was immune from Steve’s fits of rage when he didn’t do as Steve pleased. “Natalia, she’s fucking perfect,” Bucky says and Steve grimaces.

“Doubtful but whatever Buck,” Steve says. Bucky just shakes his head as Steve pushes past him and makes his way to the back of the car sitting down. Bucky follows suit sitting in the passenger seat and sharing a knowing look with the driver Sam, another one of Steve’s friends who found themselves in the business.

Sam swivels his head looking at his friend and boss and sighs shaking his head once he sees the look on Steve’s face. “What’s the matter with you?” He asks as Steve glares at him.

Steve unbuttons his shirt slightly, “Give me a smoke, why don’t you?” Steve says sounding every inch the boss of the New York’s oldest and biggest mob. Sam shakes his head as Steve ignores his question but nonetheless fishes out the carton of cigarettes in the glove compartment as well as a lighter.

Steve pulls a cigarette from the carton lighting it instantly and doesn’t hesitate to take one slow, long drag that makes him relax leaning back in his seat. Once he’s taken a drag and the cigarette hangs from his fingers he says, “Buck call my babygirl for me, I haven’t heard from her all day,” Sam and Bucky know the tone of voice Steve’s using all too well, it’s an order as clear as day but one neither of them can follow through with.

“I’m sure Y/N’s fine, no need to call her,” Bucky says not daring to look back at Steve who puffs idly on his cigarette waiting for his friend to do as he tells him. Bucky shares a look with Sam who gulps as Steve shakes his head eyes darkening.

“Call her Buck or that little whore of yours gets a bullet in her brain.” It’s low even for Steve but you are the single most important thing in his life, he doesn’t play games when it comes to you. Sam and Bucky know that, but they’re scared and desperate.

The silence is deafening in the car as Bucky and Sam refuse to make any comment or any move on calling you. Steve is easily frustrated but today it seems as if everybody is going out of their way to push his buttons, first that stupid Parker kid from Queens who got too big for his boots then Sharon who wouldn’t tell Steve where you were and now Bucky refusing to call you. If Bucky thought what Steve had done to both Peter and Sharon was bad then he just had to wait to see what Steve had in mind for him and Sam.

“Why don’t you call her?” Sam asks filling the silence.

Steve brings the cigarette up to his lips once more taking a drag then letting plumes of smoke fill the tense air of the car. “She’s not answering so one of you better call her or else,” Steve replies chuckling darkly before putting his cigarette out against the leather of backseats.

“Look Steve-“ Bucky goes to say his voice nervous nearly stuttering at the mob boss in the back seat who looks far too unimpressed for both Bucky’s and Sam’s liking. They know trouble is ahead if they tell Steve and if they don’t, either way, it will end with their blood on Steve’s hands.

Darkness clouds over Steve’s eyes as he tries to control his anger, “Where’s Y/N?” He asks because he knows his two friends are clearly hiding something and with their refusal to call you it seems they know your whereabouts.

Bucky and Sam look at each other anxiously but then Sam nods at Bucky who swallows thickly and says, “She’s gone.”

Bucky dares to look back at Steve and when he does an animalistic growl tears itself from Steve’s throat. Steve grabs Bucky by the collar pulling him forward and bashing his head harshly against the seat until Steve sees the first specs of blood start to show. “Where is she?” Steve asks this time his voice more commanding than ever.

Sam looks everywhere but at his friend whose nose is bleeding heavily now and his other friend whose hand is reaching for his gun in his pocket. Bucky gives a panic look to Sam and he knows it’s time to give up the information they hold.

“Stark took her, we went to your place after the neighbour called. There was smashed glass and blood everywhere,” Sam explains and Steve screams so loud it damages both Bucky’s and Sam’s eardrums.

Steve releases Bucky pushing him forward without a care before pulling his gun out of his pocket and pressing the barrel to the side of Sam’s head. “Call Lang and Barton tell them to meet us outside Starks place upstate, tell ‘em to bring every gun we’ve got. You and Bucky aren’t leaving alive till I got my girl in my arms safe and alive do you understand?”

Sam nods slowly against the gun. “What about you Buck?” Steve asks his voice sinister.

“I understand.” He says emotionless trying to push all his fear back.

Steve smirks before pushing the gun further into Sam’s head making him flinch and a strangled cry fall from his lips. “Drive!” He commands and Sam does as he says scared of what happens if he doesn’t. They’ve never seen Steve like this: so full of raw emotion that they can feel coming to surface and they know that when it does Steve will kill everybody in his way.

The car stops a mile outside Stark’s mansion in Upstate New York, Steve tells them to wait for Barton and Lang whilst he takes a moment to himself hopping out of the car and looking up at the sky. “Ma I don’t know if you can hear me but I know that if you can you’re not gonna like what you see next. But this is what Stark deserves no one touches Y/N and gets away with it, she’s the love of my life and if anyone hurts her they’re a dead man as far as I’m concerned. This is what Stark gets, what he deserves so ma look away this ain’t gonna be pretty.” Steve says, he doesn’t do this a lot only in times of need and this is one of them. He wants his precious mother in the sky amongst the clouds to know that he doesn’t want to do this but it has to be done, no one touches you and gets away with it. No one.

Steve takes a moment to collect his thoughts but then he hears Sam say, “They’re here.” It’s show time and Steve is ready, he’s always felt as if he was born to love you, to protect you. Steve gives Sam a nod before making his way towards Barton and Lang who are looking over the array of guns they’ve brought with them.

The group of men say nothing exchanging only a few words about their plan of attack before gathering all the weaponry and ammo they need. They make their way up the long winding path to Starks’ hideaway saying nothing, Steve doesn’t want to talk because if he does he knows he’s bound to break down. Steve’s trying desperately to keep his emotions in check so he can save you but it’s hard especially when images of you dead, bloodied and beaten creep into his mind. He shakes his head trying to make the images disappear but the closer they get to Starks’ compound the more frequent and intense they appear in his mind.

You’re alive, he knows you must be – you have to be.

The moment they reach Stark’s house gunfire starts and Steve loses being calm and collected, he’s a maniac as he pulls the triggers of the guns he has on him shooting every man in his sight. Bucky’s behind him taking care of any strays whilst Lang and Barton go ahead of Steve to remove anybody in their way. Sam’s on the roof taking care of things from there and Steve’s marching in all guns blazing not caring at all because this is personal.

Starks’ house is enormous, but they’ve been enemies for as long as Steve can remember, he knows every inch of Tony’s house just in case something like this ever happened before. He knows where you must be – the cellar under the house.

Steve looks at Bucky eyes pointing towards the private elevator, “She’s in the basement, let’s go now!”

“Lang, Barton kill them all,” Steve says referring to all of Tony’s men who are guarding their boss and you as much as they can, but they seem no match for Steve and his motivation. Lang and Barton nod fanning out to cover more ground as Bucky follows Steve in the elevator.

You struggle against the ties that bind you, you want to scream for help but you can’t all you will yourself to do is scream and cry against the gag Tony forcefully shoved in your mouth. You can see him standing in the corner eyes locked on your form, his lips darting between his parted lips and wetting them as his eyes travel your body.

“Rogers is a very lucky man, you know that?” You say nothing at his words which makes the man in the darkness chuckle. “You Y/N are just perfect,” Tony says before walking out of the darkness into the dim light, you know he’s coming towards you and when he does he kneels before you. Tony presses his hands against your thighs.

“You could be mine Y/N, you could be my world but instead you’re with that Brooklyn wannabe. He’s not me, he’s not as powerful not as rich but yet you’re his.” With every word, he speaks his hands inch further up your thigh making you recoil in repulsion at the feel of him touching you.

Tony chuckles again more darkly than before and stand up, he lowers his head into the crook of your neck you try to move your head but he holds it in place. You scream and cry when you feel him mark you, his lips pressing against your neck, you sob uncontrollably as he leaves a love bite there – reminder of your time with him.

When he’s done he cups your cheek, you can’t look at him you can’t do anything but cry as you feel the sting radiating from your neck. “Ssh don’t cry you’ll be mine babygirl,” He shouldn’t be calling you that, only Steve should call you that and that fact alone makes you cry even harder than before.

“Get away from her Stark!” You hear your beloved’s voice ring through the cellar your being held in, you can’t see him and neither can Tony. He can see you however and Tony’s laughs before leaning down and removing your gag pressing his lips forcefully against yours. It’s then that a gunshot rings through the air.

Tony’s body falls to the ground and you can’t help the scream that leaves your lips as you feel someone touch your shoulder. “Shh it’s me babygirl, I got you.” You hear Steve’s voice and you sob even more.

Steve quickly rids you of the binds and when he does he pulls you to the ground with him holding you in his arms. You cry against his chest, his shoulder, his cheek on every part of him but he doesn’t care he just cares that you’re alive. Steve grips you tight but tight enough to hurt you because God knows the pain you’ve been through.

He rocks you back and forth for a while waiting till for your crying to die down and when it does after nearly twenty minutes he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner babygirl, I didn’t know.” You can hear it in his voice that he’s beating himself but not knowing sooner.

You shake your head softly, “It’s okay you’re here now.” You say cupping his cheek and pressing a small to kiss with all the strength you can gather.

Steve shakes his head, “I should have been here to stop him from touching you, from kissing you, from marking you.” He replies eyes casting down to the purple bruise forming on your neck, you know what he’s looking at and it makes tears well in your eyes.

“It’s okay just please don’t leave me alone again, I can’t do this without you. I thought I was going to die, Steve,” you say and he nods pressing you further against him soothing your cries by pressing soft kisses to your head.

“I’ve got you, I’ll have you don’t worry this won’t happen again. Tony’s dead and I’m gonna take better care of my girl spend as much time as I can with her, gotta protect you at all costs sweetheart. You’re my everything.” Steve hands running over your sides to try and help you calm down again.

“P-promise?” You ask, your voice shaky as you shiver in Steve’s strong arms.

He smiles down at you pressing a kiss to your nose and says, “I promise don’t worry babygirl, I got you. I love you.”

He holds you tight before standing you up and taking him with him, you don’t dare to look at Tony’s dead body slumped against the basement floor nor do you dare to look at the countless other dead bodies in a sea of blood around you as Steve takes you to the car.  You screw your eyes shut gripping Steve’s shirt as tightly as you can pressing your face against his bloodied shirt and inhaling the scent of the cologne you brought him for his birthday. It’s so familiar, it smells like home.

You know you’re safe now that you’re with him on your way home where he can protect you, love you. You’re safe with him because you know now more than ever if anything were to happen, he would leave an ocean of dead bodies in his wake to get to you – his babgygirl, the love of his life.

[thejamesoldier]

Bucky & the Beast

Hi all! So this ficlet is for my darling friend Erin’s ( @theassetseyeliner ) AU Writing Challenge! I submitted a request for this prompt on her original post! Please go support her and all the participating authors who worked hard on their submissions :) Now onto the story xxx

Prompt #22: “You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.”

Overall Tags: a teeny weeny bit of angst, although mostly stifling fluff, some potty mouth language, spicy humor, s l o w b u r n but in ficlet form tho? 

Part 1 of 2

It’s not that you weren’t a nice person...on the inside, very very very deep inside. You just didn’t allow any form of slacking amongst your employees. 

And seeing as you not only own this multi-billion dollar company but also actively run it, you’re pretty sure you have the right to dictate everything that goes on under your nose when it comes to this business. You drove yourself into the grave to get this company where it is now, and you continue to work yourself down to hell every damn day to keep it as successful as it is. 

Of course you know most of your staff views you as a complete tyrant. Of course you know your nickname on all sixty-eight levels of your high rise company building is ‘Bitch’. Of course you know you’re often compared to Miranda Priestly, the star of Devil Wears Prada. Of course you know you’ve been harsh enough to earn some of that resentment.  

But you also know you have the undying respect of every major corporation in the world (which wasn’t easy to get since most of them are fat privileged older men who have too many cultural and moral deficiencies to count). The likes of which was solely earned by unignorable success, brutal consistency, and fear. You wished you didn’t have to be feared in order to be respected by some (most) people, but the ways of the world weren’t going to change that fast unfortunately. 

It surprised you at first how many people tried to take advantage of you, of your company, of your money, of your weaknesses, of practically everything they could manage to find. You were always pretty blunt and a bit maniacal about perfection even back in high school, but having been beaten by an ocean of manipulative greedy people for years now, wave after wave after wave, you’re pretty jagged and dulled to it. You’ve found the only way to survive in this business world is to always expect the worst of people. It keeps you prepared for every situation even if it is an exhausting way to live. 

Sometimes you worry if it is all worth it, but you then remember how much money your company is making and how all of it goes to support people, companies, philanthropies, arts institutions, and schools who need it. If the cost of good being put into this world is your warped personality, then so be it. 

“Barnes I need those write ups on the work Ms. Romanoff’s team did this quarter. I asked for final copies yesterday, why are they late?” You question your head personal assistant in clipped efficient sentences as you strut down the long stretch of a modern elegant hallway, the sleek double doors of your main office looming at the end of it. 

With your Prada high heels clicking sharply (if not a bit ironically) against the marble floor as you make your way to your gilded office, you scroll through an email on your phone sent from one of your board members while you wait for Barnes to put together an answer. The email consists of a polite reminder that you have a Skype call with Stark Industries this afternoon. 

As if you’d forget. 

With a punctuated scoff you burst into your glass office, not having to slow down your stride at all as Barnes moved with practiced haste to hold one of the doors open for you. You don’t bother with a thank you (even if you feel the manners your mother ingrained in you cringe and shriek in horror) but instead head nose up to your simple but stately desk. As you situate yourself behind it, booting up your desktop and quickly scanning some sticky-note reminders Barnes left for you the previous night before crumpling them in one ball and dropping them in the waste bin by your feet, you feel the very short leash you have on your patience strain. 

Without glancing up at him you bark out, “Well?” 

You hear the man clear his throat and know automatically that he’s preparing to take the fall for Romanoff’s team. Barnes always has had this habit to take the heat meant for someone else’s mistake himself, and allow whoever the guilty party is an extra second to fix whatever the problem was. It’s never effected the success of your company, so you’ve always let it slide. If you were being completely honest with yourself you know deep down that that’s why you’ve kept him around so long. James Barnes is the one person (okay maybe besides Natasha Romanoff) who holds the all time record of longest employment in your company. He’s also never been promoted from his place as Head Personal Assistant when you hired him into it a good few years back.  

He’s only craftily brought up the issue of never moving up a few times, not wanting to push his luck with you, but other than that there’s never been a word of complaint like other employees you’ve had. One day when you’ve finally been run down enough, when the world has finally sucked all the life from you, you’ve decided that it’s James who you’ll give the company to. Of course no one knows this, but you made the decision quite some time ago. 

“Ms. Romanoff had an issue with getting a closure on the deal,” Barnes starts up in his trademark baritone tenor of compassion, “She had all the finished documents written up by yesterday, it was me who failed to pass them to you.” 

Still you don’t look at him, but you do silently translate what he’s saying as you open up your email account and start sorting through your inbox for the most important emails. Basically, Barnes is saying:

“Ms. Romanoff had no trouble badgering the client for the final papers, it was the client who failed to turn in everything on time. And since you never blame the client, its professionally Natasha’s fault. So therefore she did not have all the documents written up yesterday but pulled an all-nighter to finish everything and send said polished summary of the transaction to me first thing this morning. I’m lying for her (and probably without her knowledge) because I’m an annoyingly considerate man with pretty eyes and a wicked sharp jaw who is used to your unforgiving nature and shall take the fall for everyone because I am this company’s sparkling hero.” 

Resolutely put-off with the very unprofessional way your mental translation ended up going, your mood sours sufficiently from its already foul natural state. You feel your face pinch deeper into its usual dissatisfied scowl. 

“It is very unlike Ms. Romanoff to have any delays in her work. Give her one of my warnings.” You say in a mildly bitter tone as you reach a hand blindly over your desk towards Barnes in silent demand, while clicking on an email with the other hand and scanning it halfheartedly at the same time.

A packet of paper is slid gently into your expecting fingers and as you place them on the desk space beside your angled keyboard, you hear Barnes tap his thumbs across his phone as he sends you an e-copy of the papers you were just handed. When the email arrives in your inbox with a ding, it serves as the only acknowledgment that you received the email. It also is simultaneously Barnes’ dismissal. 

Only when you hear your assistant sit down at his own smaller desk across the room from yours and start shuffling papers and things around, do you realize that you had automatically begun reading through the transaction summary he sent you. After you triple proof it (even if Natasha has never once made a mistake on her write ups), you forward everything to the cooperation partnering with you on this deal. Your trademark punctuality and promised results the only things that matter to you much these days. 

You cut a quick side glance across the room at Barnes hunched over his own pile of work and wonder if you said thank you the next time he held the door open for you, if he’d make a big deal out of it. With an internal scoff you brush your gushy feelings swiftly away and replace them with your self-made workaholic robot. 

Bucky’s patience with you is growing shorter and shorter each year, month, week, day, and second he works under you. Outwardly he’s mastered himself, but inwardly he’s been stewing and is quite near his boiling point. As he halfheartedly unclips a review packet from one of the company’s specialty divisions to go over before he hands it to you -- Miss Wicked Bitch of Best -- he wonders if it would kill you to say thank you when he opened the door, or maybe look at him when he talks. Bucky doesn’t even know what color your eyes are because he doesn’t think you’ve ever actually looked him in the eyes before. 

And sure you take him to all the fancy business galas and parties and soirees and events and fundraisers, but you always maintain this formal professional wall. Even late nights at the office when it’s literally you, him, and a couple janitors (hell, you’ve both even slept at the office before) you still remain aloof and unapproachable. It’s not like he wants to get to know you, because honestly you seem like a pretty lonely sad bitter person anyway, but it’s downright unnatural how little anyone seems to know about you. Even when he wades through his high school memories, all he can remember about you is vaguely labeling you an asshole. Which really doesn’t help your case. 

But if Bucky knows anything, it’s that no one is an unfeeling robot. 

Even if they pretend to be, even if they believe themselves to be, there is always something down there. At the bottom of a soul there is always a nugget of brilliance. Bucky knows you’re not oblivious to what people say about you, but he wonders whether you just don’t care or you’ve crafted it that way to wield as a tool. He’s not sure which one is worse. Either way he thinks that you could handle things a bit more considerately and still have the respect you deserve. Because if there is one thing Bucky has to admire, it’s your resilience and unyielding desire to see things through. Your dedication to the company and all the good it brings is your one redeeming quality. You also have never done under the table deals or slipped into black market territory, its one of the reasons Bucky hasn’t quit. This company is clean and good and successful. Which is saying a lot in this economy. You also never under pay or over pay your employees, and you’re brutal but you’re fair. 

And as Bucky’s thoughts circle back to stifling aggravation as he watches you type away unfussed and unpleasant as ever at your elevated desk, he goes to curl his hair behind his ear, per habit, to shake himself free of his thoughts, but realizes quite abruptly that he can’t. You had asked (well more like threatened and demanded) him to cut his long hair, claiming it ‘ruined the aesthetic and feel that this company represents’ and finds his aggravation churning into poorly bottled fury. Other people in your employment had long hair, I mean you didn’t really uphold any restrictions on hair, hats, head-dresses, or any type of clothing as long as you were put together. So it literally made no sense that Bucky was singled out. 

Little did he know you asked him to cut it because those dark luscious locks were distracting as hell and made him too handsome for you to be able to rationally handle. I mean you were around him practically 24 hours a day, bless your soul. You know it was a horrible play on power, and probably earned you a one-way ticket to hell, but you’d rather come off posturing and domineering than love sick or undisciplined. I mean he was just as good looking with it cut short, but you told yourself the short hair made it easier to ignore him as a man and see him only as your assistant. 

But much to your chagrin it really, really didn’t help.

“Barnes close out the rest of this meeting. Summarize it to me in detail on the way to the fundraiser.” You bark after you politely dismissed yourself from the Skype call with Tony Stark, the call on mute as you stand from your chair and crisply motion for Barnes to replace you.

Bucky grits his teeth and nods when you brush past him, trying not to let the fact that you assumed (as you always did) he’d be attending the fundraiser with you tonight and left him to clean up after you with the meeting pleasantries, anger him to the point of hysteria. He wasn’t your maid for Christ's sake, and just because he wouldn’t miss the fundraiser because of the opportunity to meet clients and business partners, why the hell did you always hitch him to your wagon for the evening?  

You exit the conference room with a blooming confidence and a rare small smile the second you’re in a private enough area to let the expression soften your face. The itch to go back in there and make sure everything finished okay spreads under your skin like a rash but you breathe and stay rigid with yourself, knowing that in order to properly groom Barnes for your job one day, you had to learn to delegate to him more than you used to. And closing out a deal, especially with one as important as Stark Industries, was major. Barnes is more than capable though, and a small part of you is...proud of him. 

You’re not sure when this nugget of utter blind faith in him started to become something much more complicated than trust in an employee, and developed into something dangerous. Dangerous like awe and adoration dangerous. Dangerous like fond dangerous. Dangerous like love dangerous.

The long clean leather seat of the limo separates you two. 

You give Barnes your (mostly) undivided attention as he dutifully regales the deal closure with Stark this afternoon. You’re scrolling through your email, then your calendar, then your messages trying to avoid looking up at Barnes. The second you spotted him in one of his gala tuxes, it’s your favorite one of his actually since he rotates through them (I mean you don’t expect him to buy a new one for every event, you’re not that unreasonable), you knew it would be a long goddamn night. The subtle navy shine of the tux catches in the corner of your eye under the dimmed lights of the luxury car no matter how hard you stare at your phone screen. 

When he finishes his report you nod your approval knowing that’s all he’s used to getting from you in terms of praise. With a knot of anxiety growing by the second in the back of your throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, you glance up at him from under your lashes. He’s mirroring you across the car, phone out, focus down, and body held with the formality you insisted be constantly upheld between you. 

The first thing your eyes land on is his exposed clavicle where his collarbone frames the base of his neck. In this rare indulged moment of weakness you allow yourself to wonder what the hollow of his neck would taste like, what would it feel like against the texture of your lips. With great effort you drag your eyes away from the tempting oasis of his skin to sprawl along the sleek dark navy of his outer coat. The button up underneath is a stark crisp white, accenting the tan of his skin and drawing your gaze back inevitably to his revealed skin. The first few buttons of the dress shirt are undone and the stiff folded collar is laid open in a roguish carefree type fashion. 

Since the fundraiser is more lowkey and relaxed, you don’t have the excuse to reprimand him for no tie, to demand he cover up that tease of skin and hint of peck muscles. No, you were doomed to suffer because the tailored pants did little to help either. The clean line of the material hugs his thighs, two long strong twin muscles that bunch a bit when he stands or sits down. You cross your legs as something heavy and hot settles in your core, startling you a bit out of the spell Bucky unknowingly put you under. 

A bit desperately you try to find a fault, something to pick apart, some straggling imperfection to prove to yourself that you are uneffected by this man. And you quickly realize you can’t because when you look past his attire, the naked allure of his features takes you by storm. His hair is as rich as ever, styled lightly to allow the slight wave in the coffee locks the freedom to curl away from his forehead and settle in a small wave atop his head. Strong brows stand guard over the softness of his eyes, the glacial blue of the irises protected further by a swath of sooty lashes.The straight nose and full generous mouth sit atop a sturdy chin, a gentle cleft runs down the middle of it adding to his seemingly endless good looks. His jaw as you’ve observed many a time is as sharp and wicked as ever. 

“You didn’t shave.” 

The observation escapes your lips before you could wrangle it back behind the bars of your clenched teeth. Bucky’s eyes jump up at you like you had yelled at him instead of spoken in a normal tone. But its then you realize that it wasn’t a normal tone at all, it was, you...you spoke to him softly --

“Um no.” Bucky answers a bit uncertainly, not sure where you’re taking this. You never comment on his appearance or attire unless it’s to criticize it. He waits inevitably for the verbal lashing.

When the lashing doesn’t come and you both just continue to stare at each other in throbbing silence, Bucky feels awkwardness lay like a heavy blanket over you two. It’s almost startles him when he sees that you’re looking at him. And not just looking at him, but looking him in the eyes. 

“It, It’s just a bit of stubble,” Bucky struggles out, trying to make any kind of sense of the current situation, “I thought since it’s going to be a more, um, relaxed atmosphere I could get away with it. I can go buy a razor and shave it off before we get there if you...want...” 

Bucky mentally kicks himself for offering, I mean how pathetic. But the stumbling words were better than the silence because for some reason the silence felt different then usual, it felt dangerous. 

“No, no,” You eventually say as your brain continues to churn itself into fluffy goo when Bucky shifts his phone and his bicep pushes up protestingly against the smooth sleeve of his tux. “It’s fine.” 

Without another word you lock down the vulnerability you feel leaking onto the canvas of your face and shove your gaze back down to your phone.You will yourself not to blush. 

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence. It’s the most exposed you’ve felt in a while, to say the least.

The fundraiser has been going like all of them do: clinically well. Bucky expects no less when you’re in attendance though. The dinner wasn’t the best he’s ever had but he made sure not to leave anything on his plate weary of wasting food. You sat perched and cool as ever beside him, engaging in the usual articulate oratory games with the clients and business partners seated at your large table. 

Why Bucky kept expecting you to act different confuses him. He keeps waiting for something to change, for a small tiny hint that something has shifted in you, or maybe between you and him, he doesn’t know. Just something. And when you make him feel like a fool for assuming such a thing by acting the exact same way you always have, Bucky kicks himself. One weird conversation in the limo and he’s hoping for...hoping for what? 

With an internal scoff he tunes back into the conversation, and just in time because you hand the topic reigns to him in that moment and suddenly Bucky is leading everybody into his own oratory arena. 

You take a measured sip from your water glass as Bucky effortlessly accepts the responsibility of the conversation and takes it away. Being able to hold a conversation in a small meeting is one thing, but being able to lead an entire table of sponsors, clients, partners, and whoever else into complex discussion is quite another. You try not to let your pride produce too many butterflies in your stomach as you continue to sip your water and listen to the man beside you prove to you how very deserving he is of what you plan to give to him one day. 

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Bucky says as everyone starts getting up to dance when the live band plays something easy and fun for the guests. You turn towards him slightly in your seat and bring your glass down from your lips as an indication to speak. “May I go say hello to Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers?” 

Your eyes zip over Bucky’s shoulder and land across the reception hall on the table where all your best employees are sitting laughing and enjoying themselves, some of them getting up to dance. For a quick beat you consider keeping Barnes all to yourself but know how selfish and petty that would be. You know Barnes is nearly sick of you. 

“Please,” You relent as kindly and professionally as you can manage, motioning with your glass towards his friends, “Go enjoy.” 

With a quick (if a little bitter) thank you, Barnes blasts away from you to join the merriment across the room. You heard the hint of potent distaste Barnes had having to ask your permission to leave your side and wonder if you’ve let yourself become to much of the monster you thought you had to be in order to be successful. 

And maybe it’s not just to be successful, maybe you donned a monster’s skin to protect yourself. 

You know that if you took away the pretty cool collected skin of that monster, a jagged scared furious soul would be revealed. A sigh and another sip of water is the only outward sign you give that broadcasts your constant inner turmoil. 

“Damn! Wicked Bitch of the Best let you go? Impossible,” Nat croons as Bucky plops into the seat Sam offers him as he hurries out onto the dance floor with a chick from accounting. 

“Ha ha very funny,” Bucky bites back as he relaxes down into the chair while pouring himself a brimming glass of champagne, chugging it all back in one go. 

Steve, sitting on his other side, raises his eyebrow at his friend’s large shot, “I take it business is done for the night.” 

Bucky places the glass flute down carefully on the tablecloth and rolls his lips in as he swallows. 

“Yep,” Bucky breathes, catching his breath a little, “I believe ‘Please, go enjoy’ were her exact words.” He states in heavy sarcasm as he runs a hand through his hair, pouring himself another glass. 

“How generous of her,” Nat allows before standing up and offering her hand down to Bucky, “And now something generous from me.” 

Bucky eyes Nat’s hand suspiciously over the lip of his glass. Natasha was pretty nice (if she felt like it), but she never gave out freebies. He follows the line of her arm up to her severe beautiful face. He squints at the look in her eye. 

“Dance with me,” She says with a roll of her eyes at his well placed suspicion, “It’s a thank you for covering my ass the other day even though I specifically told you not.” Natasha informs in jesting but fond reprimand. 

Bucky smirks at her, appeased, and takes her hand.

“No complaints here then doll.” 

Steve laughs as they zip off to the dance floor.

Watching Bucky with his friends, then dance with Ms. Romano -- with Natasha, that familiar haunting feeling that you know is loneliness begins to seep into your bones and saturate your soul. It’s loneliness that is so thick, so inexorable, you have trouble breathing. Trying not to make your movements too jerky as to call alarm you stand and make your way out of the hall. You’re intercepted a few times, making your final formal goodbyes and thanks, before heading out to the street. 

You call your driver and have him take you back to the company. 

It takes all your self control and dignity to keep from out right running to your floor. When you make it there about a century later, you burst into your moonlit office and shut off all the security cameras in it. That’s when you lose it. 

With harsh tears running down your cheeks and ruining your make up you violently through yourself into your desk chair and start going through files of successful projects. You slowly but surely remind yourself why your doing this, why life has to be so hard. All the good you’re giving to the world is worth something, its worth this loneliness...it is. 

It’s worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it...

You repeat this in your head as you continue to review years old projects and partnerships and lives that you have bettered. Though the tears and throat-wracking sobs never stop, you eventually convince yourself it’s enough. 

Bucky was informed first thing this morning by the front desk that the security cameras in Ms. Y/l/n’s office were turned off at about 11:30pm last night and have not been turned back on. Seeing as it’s only you and Bucky who have the codes to do that, Bucky wasn’t too concerned because the other cameras proved it was you who had entered the office last night. Bucky wasn’t quite sure why you felt the need for that much privacy but he shook himself free of the disturbingly instinctual urge to care. 

When he gets to the fogged-glass double doors and pulls on the sleek handles only to realize they’re locked, he hesitates in opening them with his copy of the key. Instead he finds himself knocking. 

“Ms. Y/l/n?” He calls politely, professionally. 

You jerk awake at your desk. Your head pounds with dehydration and the entire right side of your face is stiff and indented with red lines that make up about half of your keyboard. The desktop in front of you is asleep, the large black screen serves as a mirror to reflect to you your less than put together appearance. 

Your make up is a crusting mess, your hair is sticking out every which way, and your eyes are about as puffy and red as Rudolph's nose. 

“Ms. Y/l/n? Are you, are you alright?” 

At the sound of Barnes’ voice on the otherside of the office doors, a horrible twisting flare of panic lights up in your gut. Trying to remain calm, you stand up only to collapse back down into the chair because one of your legs fell asleep. 

“I’m fine Jam -- Barnes, just go do the morning rounds, please.” You stutter as you limp like Gollum (sans your heels from last night) across your pristine office to the private bathroom with a closet you keep extra clothes and things in. 

Bucky is near speechless and knows something is wrong now. You almost called him James for one, and even more disturbing...you said please. He’s unsure if he should leave you in such an obviously confused state of mind, but figures he’d only earn himself a punishment if he intruded or was somehow wrong that you were indeed having a, a moment. 

“I’ll be back in twenty to discuss the profits made last night.” Bucky found himself informing, not sure why he felt the need to give her a time to be ready by. 

What an odd feeling to know that for once, you weren’t thirty steps ahead of him. It’s the first sign of humanity he’s seen you display and it’s tripping him out. 

You listen carefully as his footsteps fade away down the hallway and you throw yourself into getting ready. Twenty minutes later Bucky knocks and you call him in. You can feel him analyzing you, looking around for something out of place, but you made sure to hide any evidence of a disturbance or weakness. 

Bucky finds you pristine and cool and severe as ever, and he realizes that the sinking in his gut is disappointment. Not that he wants to see you struggling, but for a sign you are more than a robot. That you trust him enough to reveal at least that. But you carry on normal and cold and Bucky reminds himself again to stop searching for something that isn’t there. 

“Oh god!” You shriek, you shriek, in surprise as you burst into a storage closet intent on finding an ink cartage (since you had Bucky in a minor meeting with the board, you know power delegation and all, and were more than capable of finding ink on your own dammit), and instead find Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter engaging in some...heavy petting. 

The two of them share your immense shock and separate like oil in water, cheeks, ears, and necks red as roses. They both wait for you to do something, but you continue to stand there like it was you who was walked in on. Slowly you walk across the small room, thanking every god you could think of that the ink cartridges were on the opposite side of the space than Steve and Peggy were standing in, and retrieve your ink with their eyes guiltily following your every move. 

Before you leave you heft a neutral glance over your shoulder and say, 

“Rogers those charts better be in four, and Carter if I don’t have those reports in my inbox by the end of the day I’ll be very displeased.” And with your face safely turned back towards the hallway you say with a little smirk on your face, “Excuse the interruption.”  

You hear the two collapse into hushed horrified laughter muffled behind the door as you strut back to your office with a poorly concealed smile on your face and the urge to giggle bottled up tight in your throat. 

Barnes returns from the meeting with a muted breezy expression on his face which you’ve learned to interpret that meant things went well. You listen to him summarize the meeting for you while pretending to read one of the charts Rogers just sent you on your computer. The memory of finding them in the closet this afternoon hits you hard and you have to cough in order to stop the laugh bubbling along your throat and tickling your tongue. 

Bucky pauses thinking your cough was a sign to stop talking, but when you glance side ways at him and raise an eyebrow he hurriedly continues on. It’s not until you both have settled at your respective desks across the room and Bucky gets up and heads to the printer stationed on a desk against the wall, that things start to head down hill. 

It’s not until you notice him fiddling with the printer making grumbling sounds of obvious annoyance (which you don’t find adorable, you don’t) that you realize belatedly that you still hadn’t put in the new cartridge. Wordlessly you stand, grabbing the ink cartridge off your desk, and head over to the printer. Bucky moves over and watches you take out the empty cartridge and drop it in the waste bin by your feet. And when you take the new one out of its thin box and plastic wrapping, you feel your resistance to the hilarity you went through to get it quickly dissolve. 

You stand frozen staring down at the ink for long enough that Bucky thinks you might not know how to put it in, even if you did just take out the old cartridge. 

“Would you like me to do it?” He offers as neutrally as he can, getting all sorts of weird vibes from the expression that keeps flickering across your down turned face. 

And you break.

It might have been Bucky’s words, or just the ink cartridge sitting oh so innocently in your palm, but it was most likely the vivid memory of walking in on Steve and Peggy. You start laughing. At first it’s under your breath, but the more you try to contain the sound the more out of your grasp it gets. You look up as your laughter gets more confident, brighter, and you find Bucky staring at you like you’ve finally lost it. Maybe you have because you burst into even louder laughter, the noise colorful and easy, falling into snickers when you need to breathe before returning with a cackling vengeance as you push the air back out. 

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be disturbed or entranced. It hits him hard then that he’s never actually seen you laugh, or smile for that matter. And not a business smile but a real one, the one you’re giving him right now. He finds himself smiling to, grinning ear to ear as he watches you collapse into infectious gorgeous laughter. 

“Oh god,” You wheeze as you try to mop up some of the tears from the corners of your eyes, but the words only remind you how you had shrieked them earlier and another peel of giggles wrings themselves out of you. 

Bucky is utterly speechless. He’s in complete awe. The woman standing before him is alive and vibrant and laughing. So this is what he’s been hunting for inside that cruel robot all these years. This is who he’s unconsciously been holding out for. She’s real. She’s here with him finally. 

“What,” Bucky stutters and loses his train of thought as you face him again and he’s left stupefied by the happiness in your face, how beautiful it makes you. I mean you were always beautiful, but in a cruel removed wave. Like you would eat him alive instead of grace him with a smile. 

“It’s nothing,” You attempt to recover through another giggle, “I just intruded on some, some frivolity earlier.” 

Bucky nods not satisfied in the least with just that, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting this woman to disappear behind a maze of masks to a place he can’t reach. But the inevitable happens and he watches, silently mournful, as the walls come back up and the monster’s skin is pulled back on. With a sniff you efficiently change the cartridge and turn away without another word, your scowl returned to the throne of your lips once more. 

Part 2

And yes it’ll only be two parts...probably. lol. leave a comment in you wanna and your support is always appreciated! I promise to answer all my asks and respond to all my messages soon! xxx

Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist

Permanent Tag List: @rotisserierogers @kenobi-and-barnes @mini-muffin-mountain @the-one-and-only-vampcake @whintersoldiers @captain-chimichanga @creideamhgradochas @evilmermaidsinc @buckyandsebsinbin @simplyme8308 @notsoprettykitty @ryverpenrad @james-bionic-barnes @badassbaker @fangasms101 @almondbuttercup @mar-gega @vacam79 @nenyakj @angryschnauzer @rosegoldarmour @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @takemetoneverland91 @jenairedale @musichowler @seargantbcky @mllx-anazra @amrita31199 @jenna-luke @thefuturewinemom @nuvoleincielo @redroomproperty @ho-ne-y @cornflax01 @feelmyroarrrr @paranoid-borderline-insane @thewinterswimmer @softforseb @kapolisradomthoughts @cassandras-musings @broken-pieces @melconnor2007 @fangirlrenas @imsecretlyromanburki @kellieabro @maha-pambata-is-my-patronus @this-scorpio-raven @yoinkpeter @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @topkay @kindnesswins

(if you want to be tagged lemme know; and i’ve been away from writing for awhile and if i missed your message/ask or have the wrong @ please let me know so I can update the list!) 

[babyjamiebarnes]

Short Stuff

Rating: PG

Warnings: like maybe one bad word

Featuring: Bucky x (short) Stark!reader (because I love dad!Tony so much)

A/N: Another writing challenge submission, this time for @theassetseyeliner! My prompt was “You don’t understand me! Nobody does!“ “That’s because you’re so short, you lil shit” with my main man Bucky. Again, I’m new to writing Marvel so any help on characterization is appreciated!

You’ve been shorter than everyone your entire life. Even in elementary school, all of your classmates somehow managed to be inches taller than you. You could only blame your parents, both of whom were under six feet tall and came from short parents themselves. Over the years, you’d grown used to hearing all the short jokes people could think of and learned to shrug them all off.

Being short had a few perks, after all. General admission concerts were easy to sneak to the front because no one saw you step forward every few minutes. Hide and seek was your childhood game of choice, especially when cupboards were involved. And whenever you were interested in someone, it was almost guaranteed they would be taller than you, giving you the perfect reason to request piggyback rides.

Living with your dad in New York had a few perks too. One of those was getting to live with the Avengers. Even though you were well into your 20s, you weren’t going to turn down free living space and the coolest roommates the world had to offer.

While Natasha and Wanda (and Bruce) seemed to understand the daily dilemmas that came with being short, most of the guys didn’t get it. Clint would chuckle every time you got on your tiptoes to reach the cereal boxes on top of the fridge, Steve nearly had a heart attack every time you climbed onto the counters to reach the top shelves, and Sam offered more than once to let you use the wings next time.

That’s why Bucky was so baffled when you walked into the kitchen one morning with a rolling step stool. He knew what it was, of course, but he didn’t think anyone actually had much use for them.

You rolled your step stool to the front of the cupboards holding everything you would need to make pancakes, locked the wheels, and climbed up, leaning over the counter instead of climbing on top.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked in the middle of taking a bite of cereal.

“Making pancakes,” you replied simply.

“Well yeah, I can see that,” he laughed, “but why do you have a step stool?”

“Steve got tired of being scared half to death whenever I would climb on the counters so he got it for me.” You hopped back onto the floor with the pancake mix and cinnamon in your hands.

“We can just move stuff to lower shelves.”

“I still struggle to reach those, buddy,” you laughed.

The two of you kept typical small talk as you got all the pancake mix ready, tossing in the eggs, milk, water, and a dash of cinnamon for flavor, when you stopped mid-sentence and kicked your step stool over to a different area of cupboards.

“Now what are you doing?” Bucky asked with a laugh.

“I forgot the chocolate chips.”

Before you had the opportunity to lock the wheels on your step stool, Bucky was standing in front of you and handing you the small bag of chocolate chips that sat on the second highest shelf.

“That’s way too much work,” he said, nodding towards your step stool.

“Ugh, you don’t understand me. No one does,” you grumbled, taking the chocolate chips from him and moping back to your pancake mix.

“That’s because you’re so short, you lil shit,” he laughed. When you shot daggers at him with your eyes, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Oh, come on, grumpy pants. Your little height struggles are adorable.”

You continued to pout and attempt to mix the chocolate chips into the mix with Bucky squeezing his arms around you. He only pulled away when your dad walked in, not even taking his eyes off his tablet as he spoke.

“Hands off my daughter, Barnes. She’s not allowed to date anyone older than me.”

[justanotherbuckydevotee]

All I Could Do Was Cry - Part 1

Word Count: 1,259 words. Prompt: “I’ve loved you my whole life and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me. I can’t watch you do that” Warning(s): Angst.  A/N: Written for @theassetseyeliner for their writing challenge. Thank you for letting me be part of this, and thank you for giving me the extension. 

Hopefully I won’t disappoint. Note that English is not my first language. Happy reading! P/S: Steve will be in the next and final part so bear with me.

masterlist part 1 || part 2 || Epilogue

**Credit to the owner of the picture. I only cropped and added the title in**

“(y/n)?” a soft voice asked, pulling the door slowly.

You couldn’t contain it anymore. You didn’t have any more energy to pretend that everything’s okay. You were tired, so damn tired of having to put a happy façade –to smile in front of your friends as you watch her live the life you had pictured for yourself. Exhaustion had settled deep into your bones when the women who’d stolen his heart came out from the dressing room, her previous attire of jeans and his hoodie now replaced with a dreamy off-white a-line dress, fitting her so perfectly.

When your group of friends gasped at her reveal, you could only clutch the glass of bubbling champagne tighter in your hands, because it’s when you realize this is happening, that you’ve completely lost him to this perfect woman.

It would have been easier to hate her, but being friends since college and now working together at a corporate organization had instilled in you that the word ‘hate’ cannot be associated next to Peggy Carter. Head-strong and confident, it was her attitude towards a sexist comment during a heated debate in your class that drew you to be friends with her.

In less than a week, you’d found yourself a new addition to your growing circle of friends.

Your chest hurt at the memory, at the sight of Steve. The moment that he extended his hand to shake hers you could see how smitten he was at Peggy, and who wouldn’t? Just like the other girls in your group she was fiery, and Steve was always a sucker for those who lived life on the edge.

Jealousy reared its ugly head when Steve asked you about her, but what right did you have to deny him of his happiness? The decision to hide and suppress your feelings towards him had been yours alone –despite the others encouraging you to do the opposite. So you swallowed your feelings and told him, hell you even suggested him to go after her for months before Steve caved in.

He’s happy and that’s all that matters you kept telling yourself in the many months you witness their relationship blossom, a mantra to pull the strings of your sanity together. He’s happy and that’s all that matters you repeat every time you see him lace his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him whenever they were together. He’s happy and that’s all that matters you lie to yourself when he came to Bucky and you for advice.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Steve asks, his voice barely registering to you as you look at the ring –his mother’s ring, sitting delicately in a black velvet box. Your fingers are numb when you reach out to touch it, wanting to verify that it was reality. Bucky’s next to him reassuring Steve that Peggy would instantly say yes.

It’s when Steve places a hand on your knee, worry written on his face when you hadn’t said anything, that pulls you out of your reverie. “I should’ve bought a ring, shouldn’t I?” he asks, defeated.

You shake your head, stuttering the word ‘no’ several times before placing the box into his palm. “It’s perfect, Steve” you managed to verbalize. Time slowed to you as his frowned turned to a smile, one that reaches his eyes like you’ve never seen before. You know both Bucky and yours’ opinions matter to him, so being one of his best friends you acted the way he expected you to, while simultaneously holding back your tears at the image of a timeless ring on the slender finger of Peggy’s, instead of yours like you’d dream since you were younger.

Natasha didn’t even see you slip from the joyous moment, only realizing your presence was missing when she looked around, noting your purse and coat she’d suspect you wouldn’t be far but she would need to hurry. Thankfully Sharon decided to gush about Peggy’s dress in that moment, allowing for Natasha to quietly leave.

She found you in a changing room at the furthest corner, away from all the happy chatter and laughter. From where Natasha stood, she could see perfectly your shoulders shaking as you tried to contain your breakdown.

“Hey” Natasha reached again, eyes wide with trepidation that you would run away from her attempt to comfort you.

“I can’t do this anymore” she heard you whisper. Turning around slowly, the sight of you broke Natasha’s heart. The frontage you pulled was crumbling with each gut-wrenching sob that tore through you, bringing your shaking hands to cover your quivering lips, muffling the sounds of your wailings and sufferings to the confines of these four walls.

Fully aware of what lay behind your words, Natasha nodded and closed her arms around you. The toll this took was heavy, and she admired you so much for your strength through it all. You grew up with Steve and Bucky as your next door neighbors, the troublesome blonde and brunette you’d established as your best-friends somewhere in middle school, when Steve punched a bully’s nose for pushing you on the side-walk when you walked home –your knight in shining armor disguised in the form of a small, wheezing kid when the bully punched him back.

High-school rolled in and with time your friendship with them both only strengthened. Where the other went, the two would undoubtedly be behind. And this was also when you realized your feelings for Steve; how your heart leapt out of your ribcage with his simple and subtle touch, the genuine smile you’d give only to him. You’d read about this in romance novels and seen it happen in the movies, but never did you expect yourself to fall into this clichéd category. Fear stuck as if someone poured ice-cold water over your head when you imagined a future without him. He had always been the one to help, the one who defended and the one who protected, and the thought of losing him because of your feelings had driven you to push it away.

You’d push the butterflies in your stomach whenever he laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, contained the impending blush that crept to cover your cheeks when he compliments you (because Steve was nice like that), ignored the desire to have him with you, be more than just friends.

“It hurts so bad, Nat” you whimpered, allowing pity to console the unjust you felt, the agony of seeing the person you’d fallen for be married to someone who isn’t you. In this moment you allowed yourself to grief at the decision you’d settle for many years ago.

Natasha ran her hand gently over your head, stroking your hair to console you. “I know, (y/n)” she begins, holding your trembling body against hers before pushing you away so she could face you. “which is why you have to stop this. Your happiness matters too” she continues with a tenacious tone, though her eyes were laced with concern.

With all these raw emotions swirling inside, you could only nod in response. Too spent to argue with her right then and there because what is there to argue about? It was fact, an unyielding truth that you’d ignored your own chance at happiness for a lifetime of torture, that you’d equate him being happy as you being happy too, when really the outcome was the total opposite.

Seeing you slowly regain control, Natasha pushed on. “You have to tell him, because I can’t watch you suffer. Not anymore”

tagging: my angst royalty babes  @buckyywiththegoodhair @rotisserierogers @hellomissmabel @barnes-heaven @alphaabucky @minervaem @heartmade-writingbucky @buchananbarnestrash @captnbarnesrogers 

if you wanna be tagged, send me an ask

[grandmascottlang]

Love Letters (Peter Parker X Reader Soulmate!AU) P1

Hey guys! This is for another writing challenge I entered. This one is for @theassetseyeliner  ‘s challenge! I was really excited to write this one! On to the story!

MASTERLIST

AU: Soulmate!AU where soulmates can see when the other is writing something on a body part. For example, if one of them writes a grocery list on their arm, the other will see on the same arm (and spot).

Prompt: “Your notes are really cute, but I swear that somebody will see them and then I’ll be super embarrassed.”

Summary: Sixteen-year-old Peter found his soulmate and now he’s really excited about it.

Words: 1.2k+

When [Name] first met her soulmate, she was a freshman in high school. She had grown up in a family who found their soulmates relatively early in life, so by the time she was twelve, most of her cousins and relatives had their soulmates.

Even though [Name] wanted to meet her soulmate, she also had a slight (very, very small amount of hatred) towards them. They always wrote little notes of what they needed to do on their arms (and sometimes, they wrote little math and science formulas). She hated that she had these notes scrawled onto her arms until her soulmate decided to wash them.

Every now and then, she would write on her arm and ask her soulmate if they could stop writing their notes whenever [Name] had a test the next day. Those were the only time the little notes stopped and on those days, [Name] really missed them.

On her first day of high school, [Name] was walking around in her school’s hallways, looking for her first-period class. That’s when she noticed that her soulmate had written their schedule down on their arm! She immediately felt excited, seeing that her soulmate had also written down the school name. They went to the same school and they had all the same core classes with her.

“Well, today will be awesome! I hope I figure who they are today!” [Name] thought, keeping a bright smile on her face as she hummed the tune to one of her favorite songs. 

With her carrying three thick textbooks in her arms, she couldn’t see very well in front of her. [Name] walked into someone, dropping all her books. “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t see you with all of my textbooks!” She laughed awkwardly to try and lighten the mood. 

“Don’t worry about it! I’m super clumsy so I understand,” a boy with messy brown hair looked at her, giving her a crooked (but cute) smile. “I’m Peter.” Peter held out his hand for her to shake. 

[Name] went to shake his hand, but then she saw the same scribbles from her arm. Her jaw dropped so far that it almost hit the floor. “Oh. My. God.”

She froze, thinking about what she just noticed. “Um, Peter? I think that you’re the one who’s been leaving me little scribbles on my arms every day.” She showed Peter her arms and he took them into his hands, looking them over as if he was analyzing a book for an English class.

 “Holy shit.”

Before [Name] and Peter got into a relationship, they both decided that they should become friends first and learn everything about each other. After being friends for a few years, [Name] finally got the guts to ask him out on a date. And, of course, Peter said yes.

Before their date, [Name] was looking for the perfect outfit to wear. She ended up picking out a pair of black slacks and a nice white blouse. She looked at herself in the mirror and thought that she looked ready to go. 

She got even more excited than she already was when she looked down at her arm and saw a note from the one and only, Peter Parker.

Hey babe,

I just wanted to tell you that tonight’s going to be awesome

Xoxo,

Peter

[Name] smiled at the short little note. [Name] and Peter had been writing little notes to each other on their arms instead of texting each other. It just seemed more… natural and personal. She swiftly picked up a marker and started writing a short note back to him, right under his note.

Hey Pete,

I’m looking forward to our first official date!

Love,

[Name]

P.S. Your note is so cute! Thanks for writing it!

He responded immediately with a smiley face.

After the two had been dating for a few months, their relationship got more intimate and their cute little notes became longer and longer.

One day in class, [Name] was taking notes on a concept that she wasn’t quite getting and Peter was writing a very long and intricate note on his arm for her to read (and smile at).

Hey [Name],

I know that we’re in class right now, but I can’t get you off my mind. I look forward to seeing your smiling face every day when I come to school and every night that we hang out. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and I’m so happy that you’re my soulmate. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend, lab partner, and best friend. I’m so happy that I met you.

Your one and only,

Pete

[Name] looked down at her arm after seeing Peter give her the look he only gave her when he wrote one of his notes to her in class. She read it quickly, while at the same time trying to pay attention to her teacher. She smiled and quickly picked a marker out of her pencil case to write a short note back to him.

Hi Pete,

Your notes are really cute, but I swear that somebody will see them and then I’ll be super embarrassed. I love you so much and I want our little notes to continue, it’s just that

“Ms. [Last Name]! Are you paying attention to my lesson at all?” the teacher asked angrily.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What’s the answer to the question I just asked then? Hmm?” After [Name] couldn’t answer, the teacher walked over the [Name]’s desk to see what she was doing.

“Writing notes to your soulmate, [Name]? You and Parker have detention after school today.”

[Name] held her head in her hands as the bell rang and sighed. Peter walked over to her and began rubbing her back soothingly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Peter, it’s fine! I still love you,” she said as she started packing up all of her materials. [Name] then walked out of the classroom, hand in hand with Peter, her note completely forgotten by the both of them until detention. She continued from where she had left off and explained what she had meant previously.

Hi Pete,

Your notes are really cute, but I swear that somebody will see them and then I’ll be super embarrassed. I love you so much and I want our little notes to continue, it’s just that I don’t want to get in trouble when we write these in class. Sorry, baby!

Love you!

[Name] 

In detention, Peter looked over at her and smiled, picking up a marker and writing back to her.

Okay, I understand. I love you, [Name] [Last Name].

I love you too, you big dork, Peter Parker.

Every day the little notes continued, along with both [Name] and Peter getting detention (not that they minded it because they just continued to write notes to each other).

They continued to write to each other, writing every day, every hour, every minute. It became an obsession. A habit or a hobby. And the two had no intention of stopping anytime soon either.

 They were the perfect soulmates, the perfect couple, and soon became the power couple of the school. [Name] always hung out with Peter, whether they built the LEGO Death Star or even had a Star Wars marathon wasn’t important when they had each other and a maker.

Part 2

[kjs-s]

Sweet offerings

Pairing Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Barista Steve gives you pastries in an attempt to flirt with you 

Word Count: 1050

Warnings: None.

Prompt: Coffee shop

A/N The beginning of the fic was based on this https://everythingisspirk.tumblr.com/post/165375594632/a-modern-day-au-where-jim-works-at-a-coffee-shop

This is my entry for @theassetseyeliner ‘s Au writing challenge.

@buckys-fossil  @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse  @ohyesmarvel  @writing-journeyx @agentpeggicarter @sgtbxckybxrnes @dresupi @imaginesforthose-wholovefandoms

You were sitting at your normal table just like every morning. You loved to start your day with a cup of hot chocolate before having to go to work. Even if, that meant waking up one hour earlier than necessary to enjoy it. You were working at the modeling agency next door and you took your boss’s order every day. One thing was certain; you had become the crew’s favorite regular.

Every morning was spent chatting with them about everything and ‘’brighten up their mornings’’ like Bucky, the cashier had mentioned because of your smile.

‘’Did you see the latest episode last night (Y/N)? It was breathtaking.’’ Steve, the barista who had memorized your order, tried to find a topic you both could talk about.

‘’Yes it was. I just didn’t like the way they ended it. I mean, I get the need of a cliffhanger but almost everyone is sure they won’t kill off one of the most popular characters.’’ You had spent hours trying to find answers and talk theories about the show.

‘’I totally agree, that would be disastrous.’’ He gave you your boss’s coffee. ‘’Here is your order, see you again tomorrow.’’ He smiled at you.

‘’See you tomorrow Steve. Bye Bucky.’’

‘’That was one of the most pathetic attempts at small talk I have ever seen’’ Bucky scolded his friend. ‘’If you are trying to flirt with her, you should find a different approach.’’

The next morning you followed your regular routine. However, the bag with your order felt heavier than all the other times you had ordered there.

‘’Excuse me, Steve, I think there is something wrong with my order. Yes, those are not part of it. You gave me more things that are not on the receipt. I would hate for you to be under and have to pay for those yourself.’’ You took the items out of your bag.

‘’Oh those are from our menu for next month. We thought to give some out to our regulars for feedback. There are chocolate muffins, chocolate cookies, chocolate brownies and chocolate croissants in the bag.’’

‘’Thank you, Steve, but…’’ You thought that you wouldn’t bring those to your work. The only people around at the model agency that day would be beauty pageant contestants. All of them eat at their everyday lives, but this time of the year they were too nervous about the pageant to eat pastries especially in front of your boss.

‘’It’s a family recipe from my grandma. Plus did I mention I made them myself?’’ He had spent the better half of the day before, making those just for you to try.

‘’I will try one of each here before I go to work and I will take the rest for my roommate. Do you have a form for me to fill or do you want me to just tell you my thoughts?’’

‘’Feel free to take a seat and I will come to bring you a form to fill momentarily. I promise you it won’t take long.’’

Steve came to your table with a form and asked for permission to sit with you so that he will explain it to you. He had made a well thought of form with questions about the flavor, the size of the pastries and whether you would buy them. He made it two pages back and forth so he can spend ten minutes more around you.

‘’I hope your roommate will like them too. You can inform us of his thoughts tomorrow.’’

‘’I will give them to her and ask for her feedback. Wait I minute I can see her entering the shop. Nat?’’ You were surprised to see her. She was working at a coffee shop but you didn’t know exactly where.

‘’(Y/N)? What are you doing here?’’

‘’I come here every morning to drink my hot chocolate but I’m almost about to leave. What about you roomie?’’

‘’I work here during the afternoon. I can’t believe you were the regular with the complicated order for her boss Steve was talking about the other day.’’ Nat knew about her coworker’s crush on you but decided not to interfere.

‘’I had no idea you worked here. Oh and Steve gave me the pastries you are planning to include in the menu and they are delicious. I will leave them here so you can bring them home tonight ok?’’ You grabbed the bag with your order.

‘’ What pastries?  We are not changing the menu, I am in charge of it and I would know about it.’’  She shot Steve a weird look demanding explanations.

‘’Girls I’m sorry. Please let me explain. We are in fact not including my pasties anywhere; I was just trying to get to know you a little bit better (Y/N). I had an intention to ask you out so I was trying to gain the courage to do so eventually.  I’m honestly so sorry I lied to you.’’ He was feeling so bad about his plans failing and because he thought you would be mad at him.

‘’It’s no big deal, Steve. And if I can take that as you asking me out, the answer is yes.’’

‘’Really?’’ His eyes opened widely not expecting you to agree to this. He had dreamed about it for so long and have you agree to a date was more than what he thought possible. In his dreams, you always ended up rejecting him for different reasons each night.

‘’Of course, maybe we could go watch the new movie that comes out on Friday. If you are free, that is.’’ You had agreed to go with Nat, who was now talking to Wanda the boss about a change she wanted to her schedule for the following week. You hoped she wouldn’t mind and you made plans to ask her details about Steve’s personality or any bad habits you were ought to know.

‘’Definitely, I was already planning on going and now I have company. It will be great.’’ He was still a little bashful around you.

You gave him a kiss on his cheek and left the shop but not before saying one more thing.

‘’Oh and Steve... I will try to convince Natasha to include these in the menu. They are exquisite.’’

[paintedface]

erin’s AU writing challenge

Okay so, I’m on Spring Break (+ I hit 1.3k!!) and I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, so I’m hosting an AU writing challenge! Don’t be afraid to participate! The list of rules and prompts are under the cut

Rules: 

- don’t have to be following me but this is meant to be a celebration for my followers so that sort of defeats the purpose??

- reblog this post to signal boost!

- send an ask with your chosen prompt and your character prompt (any marvel (even the guardians/defenders, but probably more the avengers because they’re more well known) or seb stan character, must be character x reader or ship x reader) (you can also choose a back up prompt in case)

- once a prompt has been claimed, it’s gone (first come first served) and if I don’t reply right away, then don’t panic because I’ll probably be sleeping or going out somewhere 

- you have to include the prompt in your fic, but how you incorporate it is up to you!

- please use the ‘keep reading’ feature!!

- it has to be an AU for marvel characters, so it can’t be set in the MCU (though it can have MCU characters). it doesn’t have to be an AU for seb stan characters. it can be a drabble, one-shot or multi-part, you choose

- no smut/explicit content, but implied/referenced smut is okay

- minimum of 500 words and maximum is unlimited!

- if there aren’t any prompts left and you want to join, then just pm me!

- use the tag #erinswritingchallenge and tag me in your fic (or all parts of your fic) so I can like and reblog them!

- deadline will be november 5th, but if you need an extension, contact me at least 24 hours before the deadline. 

- after this is all over, I’ll have a challenge masterlist so everyone can read everyone’s fics!

- thanks for reading the rules, now onto the prompts!

Prompts:

Some of these are courtesy of some anons, @buckysinthesinbin (my wife), @kjs-s , @redstarstan and @fancybasementpersona , thank you lovelies!

1. “Can you kiss me, please, my ex is across the bar.” - @this-kitty-has-claws - Bucky x Reader

2. “You’ve done your damage, why have you come back?” - @blossombarnes - Bucky x Reader

3. “I don’t know you, so why the fuck are you hungover on my couch?” - @buckys-fossil - Bucky x Reader

4. “If you try to hit on me one more fucking time, I will punch you.” - @e-g-b-o-k - Steve x Reader

5. “You fall asleep on my shoulder whenever we’re on the train and I think you do it on purpose.” - @rotisserierogers - Bucky x Reader?

6. “We were childhood friends, and you don’t recognize me and that really fucking hurts.” - @sniktlogan - Bucky x Reader

7. “Why are you so dramatic and keep coming in through the window?” - @chrevastan - Bucky x Reader

8. “You’re sad. Don’t lie to me. I see the pouty thing you do.” - @whyisbuckyso - Bucky x Reader

9. "You’re not a burden to me, I swear.“ “Then why do you keep making me feel like one?” - @sgtbxckybxrnes - Bucky x Reader

10. “Don’t be scared. I just need you to come with me for a minute.” - @bucky-is-my-precious - Bucky x Reader

11. “We’ve been put together in a [subject] group project, and you hate me but I’ve had the biggest crush on you for the longest time.”

12. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to make you love me.” - @buckysinthesinbin - Bucky x Reader

13. “You don’t understand me! Nobody does!“ “That’s because you’re so short, you lil shit.” - @dammitparker - Bucky x Reader

14. “My friend likes you but she doesn’t realise that we like each other.” - @thewinterswimmer

15. “Can you put on some goddamn clothes? You’re distracting me.” - @flowergirlbarneswriting - Steve x Reader

16. “I regret everything I did to you, you deserved none of it.” - @tasting-writers-block - Bucky x Reader

17. “You look like my girlfriend… wait, you are my girlfriend.” - @fangirlextraordinaire - Sam x Reader

18. “Can you kiss me, please, my ex is right over there.” - @stevnsbucks - Chris Beck x Reader

19. “Your notes are really cute, but I swear that somebody will see them and then I’ll be super embarrassed.” - @lame-lozer - Peter Parker x Reader 

20.  “You don’t care about me anymore, do you? Did you ever?” - @a-splash-of-stucky - Bucky x Reader

21. "I broke up with you a few months ago but I bumped into you at a mutual friend’s party." 

22. "You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.” - @thejamesoldier - Bucky x Reader

23.  “Do not try and twist this around to be my fault when it’s clearly yours.” - @girl-next-door-writes - Tony x Reader

24. “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is just somebody to cuddle with.” - @sanjariti - Bucky x Reader

25. “I realised that I called you about 20 times and texted you twice as much when I was drunk last night.” - @carriefish-er - Bucky x Reader

26. “You moved away without telling me but now you’ve come back and I want to both slap you for not telling me and kiss you because you’re back.” - @aelin-blackstairs - Bucky x Reader

27. “Why do you keep having to take the shortcut through my backyard when you go to late night parties?!” - @untimelyideasforstories - Bucky x Reader

28. “I got into a car crash and you’re still my emergency contact even though you’re my ex.” - @just-some-drabbles - Bucky x Reader

29. "Screw you.” “I know you want to, but I don’t want your STDs." 

30. "Please don’t leave me alone again, I can’t do this without you.” - @bbybucky-fics - Steve x Reader

31. “You’re always sitting alone and you’re cute, so I came to sit next to you.” - @brighterlights - Bucky x Reader

32. “Stop buying me expensive stuff! Okay, fine, I like it a little… a lot, but honestly!”

33. "I’ve loved you my whole life and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me. I can’t watch you do that.“ - @justanotherbuckydevotee - Steve x Reader

34. “I accidentally hugged you, thinking you were my friend, but you’re not so… this is awkward.” 

35. “If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.” - @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics - Jefferson x Reader

36. “I’m such an idiot. I made the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”

words:

37. Fairytale (e.g. mermaids, fairies etc.) 38. Roommate 39. College 40. High School 41. Fake Dating/Married 42. Soulmate 43. Royalty 44. Bartender/Waitress 45. Road Trip 46. Coffee Shop - @kjs-s - Steve x Reader 47. Neighbour - @kalliria - Steve x Reader 48. Movie Star/Celebrity 49. Model/Photographer 50. Biker Gang/Punk Gang - @lovelynemesis - Bucky x Reader

some writers who I think would be interested in this! (pls don’t let this flop)

@asirenscalling   @barnescrazy  @brighterlights  @buckybarnesismypreciousplum  @buckys-fossil  @buckysinthesinbin  @buckyywiththegoodhair  @cumonbucky  @denialanderror @fantastic-fantasy-fanfics  @imhereforbvcky  @james-bionic-barnes  @riskybarnes @rotisserierogers  @minervaem  @nataliarxmanxva  @sanjariti  @sebastianstanaddictsanonymous  @sgtbxckybxrnes  @soldatbarnes  @teamspider-man  @thecrownedrose  @thejamesoldier  @this-kitty-has-claws  @untimelyideasforstories  @whothehellisbella  @whyisbuckyso @writemarvelousthings

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

JACK FROST

A/N: This is for @theassetseyeliner follower celebration writing challenge!!!  Congrats on your 1300 ( think it’s 1300) followers, love!!!  Also, this is slightly an AU, just because I gave Jefferson a job.  But other than that, everything is the same.

Jefferson x reader

Word count: 964

Summary: Winter in Main sucked!  But you found something to entertain you...

Warnings: none

(GIF not mine)

Winters in Storybrooke Maine absolutely sucked.  You were up north, where it was cold, and you were by a large body of water, which made it even colder!  But whatever, you had your ways of staying warm.

In the morning, you’d wake up, and stay in the sheets for twenty minutes just lying there, deciding whether or not your urge to pee was greater than your desire to stay warm.  Why didn’t Jefferson ever leave the heat on at night?!

After that, you shower with hot water, get dressed in some nice comfy sweaters and a scarf, generously provided by Jefferson.  You would walk downstairs, most likely still wearing your warm fuzzy slippers, into the kitchen to make yourself some hot oatmeal.

While you were doing that, Jefferson would be up and at ‘em before he left for work at the antiques shop and Grace would get ready for school.  Jefferson would get everything for Grace ready and you’d serve up breakfast for everyone and pack Grace’s lunch; turkey sandwich, carrots, a note from you, and some chocolate, just the way she liked it.  You’d all eat together for a little bit, then Jefferson would kiss you both goodbye, put on his snazzy coat and gloves, and go work.

Once the dishes were clean, you’d bundle Grace up and take her to school.  Why you didn’t think of asking Jefferson to drop her off at the school or its bus station, you didn’t know.  But if you had thought of that earlier, you and your step-daughter wouldn’t be freezing your tail-feathers off in the snow.

As a fun little activity, while you were waiting for the bus to arrive, you and Grace would make a mini-ish snowman on the bench as a funny little joke.  You’d even bring a scarf and a carrot for it!

Grace was now at school, Jeff was off at work, what would you do?  You’d knit for a little, read, usually in front of the fireplace, drink your morning coffee, maybe watch a movie, TURN THE HEAT ON, and clean one or two of the rooms.  Then, you’d walk to Granny’s to meet Jeff for lunch and once again freeze your tail-feathers off.  But, at least he’d buy you hot tea to make up for it.  After your belly was full of hot food and hot tea, Jefferson would give you a warm kiss, then you two would go your separate ways.

You’d get home, organize your home office, get a little of the finances done and pay the bills, maybe look at the stocks to see what was up (or down), then it was off to make dinner in preparation for Grace and Jefferson to come home.

You were all sitting around the table, eating your pasta and making bad jokes.  This was your favorite part of the day; everyone was together, there was no rush to get things done, and you were all smiling and laughing.  You would tell each other about your days, encouraging or comforting one another, depending on how the day went.  It was simply precious.

“Okay okay, what do you get when you cross an agnostic, an insomniac, and a dyslexic?” you asked, trying not to laugh before the punchline, “someone who lays awake at night wondering if there’s a dog!”.  Grace burst out laughing and Jefferson nearly choked on his drink.

“Here’s another one!  I learned this one today at school!” Grace squealed, excited she could participate, “what’s brown and sticky?  … A stick,”.

Grace was in bed, fast asleep after you read her a bedtime story.  Her favorite was any book with animals in it; she loved how you would give them funny voices.  You made sure her favorite Barbie doll was in the bed with her as you turned out the light and went to go get ready for bed yourself.

As pajamas, you used flannel pants and one of Jefferson’s hoodies.  He got mad at you for stealing it, but then you reminded him that he hadn’t worn it since the previous October and that he hated wearing hoodies… plus, it didn’t fit him.  After that he let you keep the hoodie.

“Heat’s off, so bundle up,” Jefferson said, kissing your forehead and crawling under the covers with you.  You could not understand how Jefferson was comfortable in the freezing cold room in only sweatpants with no heat on!  It baffled you…

“Babe, no…” you whined, flopping on your back for dramatic effect.

“Why not?  We’re in bed with pajamas and blankets, we don’t need the heat on,”

“Well you don’t because you hog the blankets!”

“I do not!”

“... If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you…” you warned, cuddling up to him.

As you predicted, you woke up in the middle of the night, FREEZING.  Your toes were numb, your ears felt achy, and your nose was stuffy and red.  Glancing over you saw the culprit.  Jefferson was sound asleep in his giant cocoon of blankets.  You’d had just about enough of this.

Scooting over, you dug up a section of the blanket mountain, exposing Jefferson’s bare back.  “Let’s see how you like it…” you spat quietly, sticking you numb toes on his hot spine.

“aaaaaiIIEEEE!” Jefferson squealed, retracting away from you, nearly leaping off the bed.  Jefferson looked at you with the most confused “WTF” look he could muster.  “What the hell was that for?!” he gasped, “you’re like freakin’ Jack Frost your toes are so damn cold!”

“I warned you not to steal all the blankets…”

TAGLIST:

@paranoid-borderline-insane @buckyshattergirl @bitchy-tacos @learisa

[justanotherbuckydevotee]

All I Could Do Was Cry - Part 2

Word Count: 2,526 words. Prompt: “I’ve loved you my whole life and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me. I can’t watch you do that” Warning(s): ANGSSTT. Cursing. So much sadness (I’m sorry) A/N: Final part! This had been frustrating but fun to write. It took me a while to get back, and I’m happy with this. I hope you’ll like the ending. Written for @theassetseyeliner ‘s writing challenge.

English is not my main language so sorry in advance. Happy reading!

masterlist 

part 1 || part 2 || Epilogue

** Gif is not mine. I found it on Google** 

To say you were exhausted was an understatement of the year.

Lying on your bed, you heaved a sigh. Your eyes felt swollen, and you don’t want to check the mirror to see the puffiness rimmed with red, not wanting to see yourself in that state yet. There’s a dull ache in your chest, and you feel like you could sink right into your mattress at the heavy weight of your sorrow.

You’ve lost count how many days you’ve disappeared, fallen into the hole of despair as you ignored the outside world. You didn’t have the energy to do much but lay there, looking up at the white blank ceiling, as the world outside continues to move forward. Thankfully, the office approved your last minute leave as you threw excuses about not feeling well. You hadn’t even bothered looking at the date, overwhelmed by grief of your mistakes.

Should you have told him about your feelings before? Would it have made any difference? These were the thoughts you mostly concerned yourself with, letting your mind roam to new unchartered territory of your feelings about your best friend.

All of which had the same answer: you’d have lost him either way. Because that’s the thing with falling for your best friend, you’ll lose them for having more feelings than the stereotypical framework of two friends who’ve known each other for so long. You’re waging a war with yourself, knowing the outcome wouldn’t be pretty but still battling with your senses and emotions. It’s like playing Russian roulette, with the difference being the chamber is full, but you still can’t stay away. Too captivated by his beauty and kindness.

So you continuously love him, shooting your heart every time you witness him kiss the lips of a girl who isn’t you, firing a round of bullets to your chest each time he tells you how much he loves her.

It’s suicide masked beneath a series of believable encouragements and convincing merriments for them both.

Your phone rings, again, and you let it, not even sparing a glance as it sat on top of your bedside table.

You’ve also been ignoring your friends, not wanting them to see you in this state. Natasha comes by the first night with Bucky when she heard you’d call in sick, bringing an obscene amount of junk food and alcohol that you barely touch. You know they’re just worried, but by the third night (or was it fourth?) you’d ignored their knocking, not wanting company. You texted them a simple reply when neither wouldn’t stop bombarding your phone with calls and messages, telling them that you just wanted to rest, that they shouldn’t worry. That you’d be okay.

But will you ever be okay?

Another call hits your phone, but again you disregard it. You see the bright light of the sun slowly change into a luminescent orange spilling into your bedroom from your high-ceilinged windows, indicating that yet another day had passed by.

Steve smiles at the guests passing by him, trying to put his anxiousness at bay. He’s got his phone next to his ear, another attempt at reaching you. He’s certain you haven’t forgotten about tonight’s rehearsal dinner, raising an eyebrow at Bucky when you didn’t show up at the wedding rehearsals that morning. The simple explanation Natasha gives seems defective to his ears, but Steve couldn’t get more out of her during the whole day, the havoc wreaked from the wedding planner and their wedding crew providing him absolutely zero chance to find answers, to find you.

Soon after, he’s being directed to shower and change for tonight’s event. He should be enjoying himself, a hand wrapped around his beautiful fiancée as they enjoy what is about to happen. He should be out there talking with his guests, thanking them for coming to witness this chapter of his life. He shouldn’t be in the corner, ears glued to his phone as he tries again and again to contact you, worried to his stomach at your missing presence when again his attempts turn unfruitful.

Pocketing his phone with a grunt, he decides to take matters into his own hands. You’re one of his best friends, god damn it, and you should be here.

He looks around and his eyes land on Peggy; she’s caught up with being the hostess as she smiles brightly at people, greeting people with her friendly attitude. If he slips out now, he’ll still make it before everything actually begins. He’ll just say he wasn’t ready in time.

Just as he’s about to step out of the private ball-room, he’s stopped by a firm grasp on his shoulder.

“Where are you going? The party is that way” Bucky says, pointing a finger at the direction behind Steve. There’s a smile on his lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. Steve furrows his eyebrows, looking at his oldest friend with a sceptic look.

“I’m trying to find (y/n). Something’s not right” he responds. Bucky’s grip over him falters as Steve moves, determination now settling deep in his bones to try and settle what was going on. But Bucky stops in front of him again, blocking his path.

“Natasha did say she was tired. Let her get some sleep. I’m sure everything’s fine” he babbled, trying to steer Steve back to the party.

But Steve stood his ground. Something was definitely up.

“Okay. What’s going on?” he asks. It’s rare that he finds Bucky lying or trying to hide something from him, even rare when the subject of concern is you.

Bucky’s about to say something that Steve knows will just waste his time, precious time he could use to find you instead of playing cat and mouse here in this hall. So he cuts him off.

“What’s really going on, Buck?” he asks quietly. “She hasn’t returned any of my calls. Peggy even told me she’s been missing from work for days now. So, please, just tell me what’s going on?”

He’s eyeing Bucky for a few moments, watching the cool exterior of his best friend trying to come up with an excuse plausible enough to get him back inside. But he comes up empty.

Bucky sighed, dropping his head as he ran his fingers in his hair. Natasha was going to have his head.

“Okay” he begins, clearing his throat before looking at Steve again. “Look…” he says, but he can’t find the words to say it. Steve takes in a sharp breath, because nothing good ever follows when the conversation starts off like this. It takes him mere seconds before he’s hailed a cab and telling the driver your address.

His heart is hammering against his chest as he tries to even his breathing, having ran up the stairs to your apartment, the lift taking too damn long for the patience he has right now.

He’s pressed your bell, knocked several times, but there’s just silence from your end. There’s an incomprehensible feeling in his gut, churning his anxiousness into something much more ominous. There’s a sickening sensation bubbling from his stomach when you’ve yet to answer.

“(y/n!)” he yells. He’s thankful that you own the whole floor, leaving him to pounding your door to his heart’s content. He tries repeatedly, screaming your name with each bang. He doesn’t know why he’s riled up all of the sudden.

“I’m not leaving until you open this door” he declares. Again he slams his open palm over your door hard that he swears could’ve made a hole if he’s just balled his fist instead. He’s breaths are labored, not from running up but from this simmering anger inside of him.

He’s supposed to be at a fucking dinner, not bleeding his hands at banging your door. He’s frustrated that Bucky and Natasha doesn’t seem to want to tell him anything. He’s annoyed that you’re doing this to him out of the blue, furious that you won’t open this door and talk to him. You’re on of his best friends for heaven’s sake! You should be able to tell him anything because you trust him.

“Please, (y/n). Talk to me. Help me so I can help you” he tries again, pressing his forehead on your door. He can hear movements from behind the door, the pitter patter of your foot stepping on your floor, pacing back and forth, almost debating with yourself.

The image of you in distress melts his anger, uneasiness creeping its way back to him as he tries to make sense of the whole situation. Did he do something? What happened that made you distance yourself from him? Who hurt you?

He sighs, drained from what the day had entailed. Pulling himself back, he looks at your door for a moment, trying to understand what lay behind them, before slowly backing away. He doesn’t know what else to do but to walk away. every step he took was heavy, demanding him to stop and turn, to try again. That he shouldn’t give up.

His phone rings, a familiar ringtone he’s set up specifically for Peggy, so he answers and tells her he’s on his way.

He’s hours away from being proclaimed as husband and wife, elation coursing through his body as his heart flutters at the image of Peggy walking down the aisle. Steve can’t help but let heat rise from his cheeks because Peggy would be his. He chuckles to himself, realizing that after all this time she still has that kind of control over him.

“You okay?” Clint asks, emerging from behind a partition that gave Steve privacy in his bachelor suite.

“Just excited” he tries to act casual, but he can’t hide his wide smile. Clint pats him with a grin, happy to see Steve in this light because he deserves to have this. “We’ll be outside. Have a drink with us” he proposes, then goes to let Steve be. He’s adjusting his suit, checking his cuffs and fixing his hair. He’s nervous, but the good kind.

“The man of the hour finally graces us with his presence” Tony proclaims, gesturing grandly towards Steve as he steps into the study room where all of his close friends are.

Except you.

A small frown places his smile temporarily when he doesn’t find you where you should be. He asks Sam about your whereabouts.

“Don’t know. Probably helping Peggy” was his answer, handing him a glass before filing it with Brandy. It would make sense since you’re friends with them both, even more sense when he remembers you’re the one who introduced her to everyone.

But there’s a nagging voice in his head, agitation sneaking into him like that night. He’s been restless since leaving your complex, the ride back to the rehearsal dinner filled with him texting and leaving you countless voicemails. Bucky has yet to confide to him what’s happened, leaving a cryptic code of “It’s not my place to say”, a similar response from Natasha when he asks the redhead.

“You’ll just need to hear from her, okay?”

It was wearisome the way you’re silencing yourself. He’s bear witness to your breakdowns before, has experienced this sudden push from you, but never to this extent. You would always tell him beforehand, that you need space to clear your head. But the reasons behind those breakdowns were always told, never was he ever left in the dark like this. It was unlike you and the more he thought about it, the more he wants to go and find you.

“Cheer up, man. You’re getting married” came the voice of Sam, bringing him back to the present. He downs the drink in one go, before placing the glass on top of a mahogany table. Sam’s right, he should be because today was his day.

So he ignores the restlessness that continues to plague him, talking and laughing with his friends before the ceremony begins.

Wanda knocks on their door, her had popping out from the gap when she opens it, announcing that it was near time, throwing Steve’s phone at him.

“You left this downstairs. It’s been beeping nonstop” she tells him, before leaving them. He checks it, and upon seeing only your name on his screen he moves out of the study, needing to hear from you before he completely loses to his nerves.

He clicks the voicemail you left him.

“Hey Steve”. Your voice permeates and he’s glad to hear your voice.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer you. I just needed to be sure with myself that this is something I wanted to do”

You exhale shakily, and his heart wrenches in his chest, as if telling himself to prepare for the worst.

“I can’t go to your wedding, Steve” you croak, pausing for a moment to regain some control. “I can’t go because it pains me to see you with someone who isn’t me”.

An emotionless expression sweeps his facial expression, realization gradually dawning on him. It can’t be he thinks to himself.

“I’ve loved you my whole life” you whimpered, “and you’re about to marry somebody that’s not me” you manage to continue. Steve is standing rigidly, trying his hardest not collapse at your words in this moment.

“I can’t watch you do that” you sobbed, the emotions unable to be contained anymore, your struggle to remain collected breaking like a dam.

“You deserve this. And I am so happy for you, really I am, but it absolutely breaks my heart every time I see you together. I’ve tried to suppress these feelings since junior high but it keeps coming back stronger than before” you manage to blurt, inhaling a shaky breath before continuing “I knew I fucked up the moment I decided to cower behind my door that night, but what right did I have to destroy your chance at happiness? What right do I have to ruin something so great for you?”

“So be happy, Steve. Be happy with Peggy, and treat her with the kindness and devotion you have, because you both deserve it. I’m praying for the best for you and her, because at the end of the day you’re both my friends. You’re my best friend, Steve”

“But I cannot continue living like this. I’m telling you this because I can’t face you, and I don’t think I will ever face you again” you pause, gasping for air to flow down your throat.

“Live your life, continue on and never look back. I’m sorry Steve”

He still has his phone next to his ear long after the voicemail ends. His throat is dry and he can’t seem to move, stuck in this spot as the shock washes over him.

This is not happening he tells himself. He didn’t just lose his best friend over the phone right before he gets married. No, this was a nightmare, a vivid delusion that stemmed from his fatigue, his restlessness from worrying so much, from the stress of work and the planning.

He doesn’t register the voices of his friends behind him until Bucky grabs his shoulder.

It’s then that Bucky realizes what you’ve done.

tagging: @hellomissmabel @@alphaabucky @captnbarnesrogers @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @minervaem @rotisserierogers @buckyywiththegoodhair @barnes-heaven ||  @iamwarrenspeace @memoirsofafangirl @lovely-geek @sarahp879 ||

taglist is open. send an ask if you want to join (: or to scream at me

[grandmascottlang]

Love Letters (Peter Parker X Reader Soulmate!AU) P2

Hey guys! This is my first ever request and I was super happy to do a second part for this story (because I had a lot of fun writing it). This was requested by @racheltheclumsy . Thank you for your request. I hope you like it! Onto the story!

Part 1

MASTERLIST

AU: Soulmate!AU where soulmates can see when the other is writing something on a body part. For example, if one of them writes a grocery list on their arm, the other will see on the same arm (and spot).

Request: Hey there! I was wondering if you would be interested in continuing the soulmate AU. Years later, College age maybe, the reader doesn’t yet know that Peter is Spider-Man and he gets kidnapped. The only way for the Avengers to find him is with the notes on the reader’s arms.

Summary: Peter’s been kidnapped and the only way for [Name] and the Avengers to find him is with the notes he scratches onto his arm.

Words: 3.1k

Peter and [Name] had a very steady relationship. They wrote to each other every night and hung out as much as possible. Unfortunately for [Name], the couple had quit going on dates as frequently as possible due to Peter’s Stark Internship.

[Name] ended up becoming jealous of the internship, but she never had the thought in her that he was cheating on her because Peter was her soulmate. He wasn’t anyone else’s.

She wanted to see Peter more often and she thought that the best way to do that was to apply for a Stark Internship (plus it would look great on her college application).

[Name] waited for a few days to hear back from the booming company. She had received an email from Tony Stark himself!

[Name],

Your application impresses me, look at all of those AP and Honors classes! On top of all of those, you’re getting amazing grades as well as doing many extracurricular activities. I would love to have you as an intern. Your first shift will be next Monday, and I’ll send you another email with more detailed information. Again, thank you for applying and I’m looking forward to seeing you perform as well as all of your previous achievements!

Anthony Edward Stark, CEO of Stark Industries

[Name] was so excited and couldn’t wait to tell her boyfriend in person the next day! She quickly wrote a note to Peter on her arm to inform him that she had something very important to tell him.

Pete,

I have some great news that I want to tell you tomorrow! I love you, baby!

Hugs and kisses,

The BEST Girlfriend in the WHOLE world (A.K.A. [Name])

Before she fell asleep a note from Peter appeared on her other arm.

That’s great, babe! Looking forward to you telling me at school tomorrow!

Xoxo,

The BEST Boyfriend in the world (A.K.A. Peter Parker)

She read his little note and smiled as she realized that he signed the same way as her before she fell asleep blissfully and happy.

[Name] went to school the next morning feeling refreshed and excited as she looked for her boyfriend in the hallway. The first place she looked for him was their shared locker and that was where she found him.

“Hey baby,” [Name] whispered in his ear as she lightly kissed his jawline.

“’Sup, babe,” Peter responded as he finished putting his books away in their locker, closed the door, and then turned to her and put his hands on her hips. “Do you want to tell me the good news now? You’ve kept me in suspense for too long.” He giggled.

“Yeah! So, I applied for an internship at Stark Industries…” she trailed off, wanting to leave Peter in even more suspense than he was already in. “And I got the internship! We’ll be working together!”

[Name] could have sworn that all of the color faded from her boyfriend’s face as she announced the good news.

“I’m so… proud of you,” he said unenthusiastically, confusing [Name] immensely. She thought that Peter would be happy for her because they get to spend even more time together.

“Cut the bullshit. What’s wrong?” [Name] asked in a way that reminded Peter of May.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just feeling a little sick. I’m really happy for you,” he muttered as he pulled his hands away from her. “I uh, have to… go to the nurse. I’ll see you later, [Name].” He pecked her on the cheek. “Love you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

After [Name] and Peter graduated from high school, they both continued their internships with Stark Industries. Tony had taken a real liken to [Name] and made her his personal assistant (after Pepper, of course).

“Hey Mr. Stark?”

“What’s up, kid?” he asked as he turned around in his spinning office chair to look at her.

“I was just wondering what Peter does here, since I know he works here too. I’m his girlfriend and I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never asked. Shouldn’t I see him more often?”

Tony’s face turned just as pale as Peter’s the first time she had mentioned her internship for Tony. [Name] then immediately thought that something was up between the two that neither of them were telling her.

“What’s happening between you two? Peter’s been really distant and I just thought that I would be able to see him more often than I do now since I started this internship.”

Tony takes a deep breath and then sighs. He needed to choose his next words carefully.

“[Name], Peter just works on a different floor. I have him… building stuff in the labs,” he worded carefully, trying to not tip off [Name] as to what Peter actually does.

“Okay, I guess. It’s just weird is all.”

With [Name] being a business major, it helped her with the internship. She needed to know all of the different types of business models.

It did suck sometimes though because Peter was an engineering major and it was hard to see him on such a large campus. She only saw him in her large, mandatory classes as well as when they hung out or went on dates. She learned that she should never take her time with Peter for granted again.

As she was thinking about Peter (speak of the Devil), he started walking next to her. He slid his hand into hers and intertwined their fingers. “How’s the most beautiful girl in the world?” He smiled, looking at his girlfriend.

Even though Peter and [Name] had been dating for years, his sweet words still made heat rush to her cheeks. “I’m doing great today. I actually had a question for you, Pete,” she blurted out the second part as she turned to look at Peter

“Ask away!”

“What do you do for your internship exactly?” She looked him curiously in the eyes. She needed to find out if what Tony told her was true because she began to think that maybe, just maybe, something might be up with Peter.

“I, uh… I… file files and folders for Mr. Stark. It’s not as interesting as being one of Tony Stark’s personal assistants, of course, but hey, I still work with the guy.”

[Name] was filled with rage. Both Tony and more importantly, Peter have been lying to her for weeks, maybe even months! “Filing, my ass,” she thought angrily.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you better tell me what on Earth you really do. Now.”

[Name] had been avoiding Peter for a few weeks now. She couldn’t look him in the eye after learning that he wasn’t able to answer a simple question. [Name] felt horrible about not seeing Peter, but it was necessary to get her point across.

Every day, Peter had tried writing to her.

[Name],

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to answer your question. Please come to my dorm room if you want to know the truth. I still love you with all of my heart. Please, I need you and I miss you.

With love,

Your Pete

She had ignored them, waiting for Peter to wash them off of his arms so she wouldn’t be stuck with feeling guilty for any longer.

One day, his notes just… stopped. [Name] didn’t know what happened. Maybe he just had a bunch of really big tests?

When they stopped happening for a few days, [Name] began to search for him around campus. Ned hadn’t seen him. MJ hadn’t seen him. His professors hadn’t seen him.

[Name] had the urge to look down at the arm her usually wrote with. There was one singular word etched onto it.

HELP

[Name] dropped everything that she was carrying once she saw the note scratched onto her arm. It looked as though Peter had ripped through his skin just to message her.

[Name] ran as fast as she possibly could to Stark Tower.

She ran into the building, stopping at the front desk to tell one of Tony’s secretaries that it was urgent.

“Hey, [Name],” Brendon said, flashing her a quick smile.

“Brendon, tell Mr. Stark I need to talk to him urgently. And by urgently, I mean now.”

[Name] got into the elevator after Brendon made a quick call to Tony. He was ready for in a matter of seconds.

When the doors opened, Tony was sitting on one of his expensive leather couches (one that was probably imported from Italy). She almost ran out of the elevator to get closer to Tony. “[Name], you look like you’ve seen a ghost what happened?”

“Peter’s gone.”

Tony immediately stood up. “How do you know?”

She showed him her arm.

Peter, if you’re reading this, please write back to let me know that you’re okay. Where are you?

[Name] put down the black washable marker (she wanted to use something to write him that she could easily remove to have more space for him to write on).

HELP ME, [NAME], PLEASE

Tony started to shake. He got nervous. He knew that Peter was trying to take down a gang that sells and produces drugs. They must have taken him. How was he supposed to tell Peter’s girlfriend that her boyfriend is Spider-Man and that he got kidnapped by a bunch of druggies?

“You need to help him. Please, Mr. Stark. Please save him as Iron Man.” [Name] was shaking in her boots.

Tony led her back to the couch and sat her down. He began to rub small circle on her back to try and calm her down. “Take a deep breath, [Name]. We’ll find Peter.”

[Name] looked up at him curiously. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“The Avengers.”

After Tony had rounded up all of the Avengers that he could, he started to track Peter using F.R.I.D.A.Y. Unfortunately, his tracker couldn’t be found.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Vision were all peeking over his shoulders to see what he was doing.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Natasha asked him.

“His tracker’s gone. I can’t track him.” Everyone took a sharp breath inward, thinking that there wasn’t any possible way that they could find Peter. After giving it a second thought, Tony turned his head to look over at [Name], who was writing to Peter to ask him about what was happening (and ultimately, so that she would know that he was alive). After seeing Tony’s head shift to [Name], everyone understood what was happening.

Peter, I need you to tell me where you are right now. The Avengers and Mr. Stark are going to come and find you. Please. I need you and I love you.

Thankfully, Peter wasn’t ripping through his skin anymore to write to her, it seemed as though he found a pen. [Name] didn’t feel much better, but it helped her conscience that he wasn’t scratching and hurting himself to give information.

I hear trains… I can’t really see anything. I also hear a bunch of people shifting around. [Name], please, I need you…

“Could they be hiding him down in a subway? None of the emergency rooms in the stations have windows?” [Name] questioned quickly.

“That would make a lot of sense. He was also in the subway doing what I needed him to do.” Tony immediately started feeling guilty. It was all his fault that Peter was gone.

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Stark. It’s not anyone’s fault. This could have happened to any one of us.”

I know that you always wear the watch that I gave you. Did you look and see what time it was when the last train passed by?

I did, I think it was either 9:52 or

Peter’s note cut off there and [Name] immediately broke down into tears, fearing that the worst had happened to him. Natasha took her away to the room that Tony had reserved for her if she worked too late and couldn’t get back to her dorm room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Pull up a map of the all of the subway stations in a twenty-mile radius.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“Can you also pull up a list of all of the trains that left their designated stations from 9:45 PM to 9:52 PM today? Also, can you mark them on the map for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

After Tony had pulled up all of the information he needed. The A-Train left the station at 9:47 PM and was the closest train to the location that Tony had sent Peter to.

“Here’s where we need to go,” Tony commanded, starting to brief the Avengers on where they needed to go and what they needed to do (except for Natasha who was left behind to try and comfort [Name] because she was the closest Avenger to her besides Tony).

Tony blew down the door to the emergency room that Peter was being held captive in. The Avengers swiftly took down all of the men guarding the door that concealed Peter.

He pushed a body out of his way so that he could open the door. Tony opened the door and almost threw up on the spot due to the shape that Peter was in.

Peter’s body was twisted as it laid on the ground. His eyes were shut and many cuts and bruises were littered on his body. Peter was almost swimming in the pool of body that ran underneath his body, ever increasing. The Spider-Man suit was ripped (which wasn’t as much of a concern to Tony as Peter’s safety was) and some of his bones were broken.

Peter needed a hospital and he needed it now.

“What if I never see him again? We last saw each other and talked to each other as we were fighting. I don’t want him to die when he might not think I love him anymore,” [Name] sniffled, heartbroken and quickly losing her hope for Peter to still be alive.

“Peter’s not going to die, plus I’m sure, no, I know that he loves you more than the world and he knows that you feel the same way. Peter’s a strong guy, [Name].”

“But what if he dies? How do I tell May? How will I ever cope with his death?” She began to cry again, each second, her sobs got louder.

“[Name], you can’t think like this when something this tragic happens. He going to be fine.”

“Then why did he stop writing to me?”

After saving Peter, the Avengers took him to the nearest hospital. Tony lied and said that the boy was just some random person he saved rather than someone that he knows very well so he could get Peter into the Operating Room as soon as possible. He did tell them Peter’s name after the OR staff ran out and put him on a gurney.

After the nurses and surgeons rushed him into the OR, the Avengers gave their get well wishes for Peter to Tony who was the only one who could stay with him for the time being. They left and Tony called Natasha so that she could bring [Name] to the hospital. He knew how connected those two were, especially being soulmates and Tony thought that his best course of action would be to allow [Name] to see Peter when he got out of the OR.

Natasha stepped out of the room while Tony called her. [Name] was expecting the worst of the news.

After accepting Peter’s death, Natasha walked back into the room.

“So?” [Name] question, feigning hope.

“They found him. And he’s alive.”

“Tony, she just ran out of the building. I looked out of the window and saw that she jumped into a taxi to take her to the hospital. You should be prepared for [Name] to be very emotional and possessive over Peter’s room.”

“If I were her age when I met Pepper, I would do the same thing, given the situation. Thanks for the heads up, Nat,” Tony finished as he hung up on Natasha.

“Peter Parker. What’s his room number?”

“Family or friend?”

“I’m his girlfriend and more importantly, I’m his soulmate. I’m not going to ask you again. Where is Peter Parker?” [Name] growled through her teeth as the nurse questioned her as to who she was.

“Room 407, he’s in the ICU.”

[Name] ran again at a speed that would make anyone question whether or not she was human.

Tony heard loud footsteps plaguing the quiet hallway, disrupting him from trying (and failing) to take a nap in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs. He turned to look down the hallway and saw [Name] running.

[Name] ran past her boss even a second look or even a thought.

She opened the door and for the first time that day, she slowed down. She walked over to Peter’s bed to look him over.

His skin was littered with bruises and cuts. He also had a few broken and fractured bones.

“Oh, Pete, what happened to you?” she whispered, taking his hand into hers. She intertwined his fingers with hers. “I’m so sorry for all of those hurtful words I said to you. I won’t ever say or do anything that stupid again. Please wake up.” She leaned in and gave him a soft peck on his jaw. His body shifted immediately after her kissing him. “Peter?”

“Hey, [Name].” His voice was raspy, but she didn’t care. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“You’re awake?”

“I guess this means that I’m the Sleeping Beauty?” he laughed lightly, cringing as he felt pain course up through his body.

She chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault for not feeling brave enough to tell you the truth. After this, I don’t think that secrets between us are a good thing.” [Name] nodded in agreement.

“So, you know about the Spider-Man, right?”

“Yeah, but what does he have to do with you?” [Name] looked into his eyes, confused. Her Peter wasn’t doing anything dangerous, right?

“I’m him. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. You should have been the first person I told.”

“It doesn’t matter right now. I love you. We’ll talk more about this when you get out of here, okay?” she asked him, smiling at his goofy grin.

“Yeah.”

Peter picked up a pen that was laying on the table next to his hospital bed. He began to write another note.

Thank you, [Name]. For everything. You saved my life. I love you and I will never let you go.

[Name] smiled as his writing appeared on her arm. She took the pen from Peter’s hand and wrote a message of her own.

That is if I never, ever let you go first. I love you with my heart, mind, body, and soul, Peter Parker.

The couple only ever needed a pen in their lives.

[paintedface]

writing challenge reminder

This is just a reminder that my writing challenge is ending soon and that you either submit your fics, ask for an extension (it’s no prob) or tell me how many more parts of a series you have left! Some people in this list have already asked for an extension and I know, don’t worry. If I haven’t reblogged or liked your fic within 24 hours of you posting, shoot me a dm!

here’s the original post!

prompt 5 - @rotisserierogers , prompt 6 - @stefenrogers (series) , prompt 7 - @chrevastan , prompt 8 - @whyisbuckyso , prompt 9 - @sgtbxckybxrnes , prompt 12 - @buckysinthesinbin , prompt 13 - @dammitparker , prompt 14 - @thewinterswimmer , prompt 15 - @planet-holland-writing , prompt 16 - @tasting-writers-block , prompt 17 - @fangirlextraordinaire , prompt 20 - @a-splash-of-stucky , prompt 22 - @thejamesoldier (series) , prompt 23 - @girl-next-door-writes , prompt 25 - @carriefish-er , prompt 28 - @just-some-drabbles (series) , prompt 31 - @daisyskyed (series) , prompt 33 - @justanotherbuckydevotee , prompt 47 - @kalliria

[justanotherbuckydevotee]

All I Could Do Was Cry page

** Picture is not mine. I found it on Google. I take no credit apart from the title **

Summary: Falling for your best friend was never in your intention. So you hide and suppress those emotions, not wanting for your friendship with Steve Rogers to be ruined. But when he’s found the one, and wants you to be there for their glorious day, you can no longer lie to yourself. 

Warning(s): Angst. Alot Some sadness. A curse word or two. 

A/N: This is my submission for #Erinswritingchallenge. I know some of you want a part 3, maybe one day I’ll write an epilogue for it, but for now enjoy the agony of the unknown.  -- Steve x Reader

Part 1

part 2

Epilogue

Main Masterlist