someone give me a big bucket

Love Seats - A new hope - Bucky x Reader (One-Shot)

Heyo, my potatoes! ♥ Thank you all for your kind comments and all the compliments. I almost reached 150 followers in just 2 weeks and I think I’ll do a special fanfiction when I reach 200. :D You guys are great! This story was my own idea, but someone requested to write this as fast as possible. So here it is! I hope you enjoy! ♥

Words - 2,291

Warnings - spoilers if you haven’t watched Star Wars IV shame on you, fluff all the way, sexual tension?, if something’s missing, tell me ♥

Originally posted by evasivereasoning


“Sorry, there was a long line. And you were the one, who wanted a big bucket of popcorn.” “Just be quiet and give it to me.” Clint pouts, giving Natasha the popcorn.

It was Sam’s idea to go to the cinema and watch the remastered version of Star Wars Episode 4. He wanted us to get the actual cinema feeling. In the end everyone agreed so now we’re here.

You all walk into the room, where the movie will be shown. It has red walls, red comfy-looking seats and a dark wooden floor. Bookcases are on each side, giving you the feeling of being in your own living room.

Natasha walks in front, having the tickets. “Row E”, she tells us. Everyone get into their seats, as you try to walk through the row, to sit next to Natasha. Soon you notice that there’s no seat left. The whole row E was covered by the Avengers. But there weren’t enough seats for two of the team. You look over to Bucky who doens’t have a seat as well and the moment your eyes meet, you immediately turn back to Natasha, blushing a bit. You lean down to her and whisper to her pleadingly.

“Don’t tell me I have to sit next to Bucky the whole movie.”

Natasha smirks deviously up to you, but soon turn serious again. She looks at every ticket and notices that two of them are in a different row. She rips them off and hands them to you.

“Sorry, darling. But you should see that as a chance to finally make a move on him”, she apologizes with a dirty wink.

“Ugh, shut up, Nat”, you hiss as you inspect the tickets.

“Where are our seats?”

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Bucky Barnes Imagine

- Bucky’s gone off the grid and in order to find him down, you- the love of his life, have been captured and tortured for answers. P.S: I am yet to watch Civil War so this has nothing to do with it, this is a little piece with the lovely Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Violence and coarse language.

Part 1/3

*Reader’s POV*
The door opened and I flinched at the scraping metal sound. Two men; both rugged, fairly well-built and in their mid-thirties swaggered in. I didn’t know what they wanted from me, but I had a feeling it had something to do with Bucky.

“I don’t know where he is,” I felt my vision cloud, “you’re wasting your time with me.”

“Your loyalty is admirable,” the one with the British accent chuckled softly. I noticed he had a scar on his right cheek and a tattoo of a bible psalm in between his collarbone. “I know you’re lying, Y/N. You are the only one other than Captain Rogers, Bucky Barnes stays in contact with.”

“Whoever told you that is wrong,” I felt my jaw tightened.

“Look sweetheart,” he grabbed my face tightly between his thumb and four fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you but I will if you don’t cooperate. My boss wants him so unless you tell me where he is, you’re stuck here with me.”

“I suggest you order a pizza and get comfy,” I shrugged with a slight smirk.

The man’s fingertips pressed harder into my skin. “You wanna play hero for your killer boyfriend? Fine.” His jaw tightened as he pushed my face back, releasing his grip. “You’ll be spitting out the truth and begging for death by the time I’m done with you. Aden,” he snapped at the younger man with him, “get her down.”

Aden nodded and yanked at the chain holding me up, he released it from its hook and lowered me onto the ground. My legs were so numb from standing that I couldn’t help but fall to my knees. The older man grabbed me and forced me to my feet, he dragged me across and sat me down on the chair. He beckoned for Aden, who walked over with a bucket of something. He placed it down in front of the nameless male then held my arms tightly behind the chair. I glanced into the big mental bucket and immediately knew what his first form of torture was; waterboarding.

“I’m Demetri, by the way.” He smirked as he grabbed the piece of cloth out of the bucket. “I don’t like my victims not knowing my name when I torture them. Don’t worry, beautiful. It won’t kill you,” he taunted.

“It won’t give you his whereabouts either,” my voice trembled.

“You’re brave, I’ll give you that.” Demetri said before covering my face with the wet cloth.

I struggled but Aden held me tightly. Before I could prepare myself, someone yanked my head back by my hair and my face was drowned with cold water. With the cloth held tightly against my face, it prevented me to breath anything other than water. I choked, struggling in the chair and repeatedly told myself “do not break.”

Twenty seconds.

That was how long he waterboarded me for.

But it felt like an eternity.

I gasped for air, coughing up and snorting out water. I panted, feeling my entire body shake from the traumatic experience. Demetri grabbed my face and forced me to look at him.

“Give me what I need,” Demetri demanded.

“Go to hell,” I spat in his face.

He scoffed and wiped my spit from his face. “Fine, you want to do it the hard way so be it.” He forced the cloth on my face, yanked my head back and poured water on my face. This time, it lasted twenty-five seconds. I thrashed and struggled, choking on the water that was quickly filling my lungs.

The effect of drowning that waterboarding held was more terrifying than drowning itself. The fact that I couldn’t swim to the surface despite how much my body told me I had to, the fact that I was literally drowning on land- I couldn’t picture anything worst.

“Let me give you another chance,” he removed the cloth from my face and gave me a small interval to breathe and cough up whatever water I could. “Where is fuck is Bucky Barnes?”

“I don’t fucking know,” I bit.

“Do you want to go under for forty seconds?” Demetri asked.

“Even if you put me under for a minute,” I growled, “I won’t give you anything.”

“Well then-” Demetri chuckled at my bravery in disbelief. “A minute and ten seconds it is.”

My heart pounded against my chest as I watched him move to replace the cloth over my face. I winced and shied away from him, whimpering. I couldn’t do it again- I couldn’t go under again but- I couldn’t give Bucky up.

“No,” Aden frowned. “That’s too long, Demetri.”

“You heard her,” Demetri smirked at me, “she thinks she can handle it.”

“No,” Aden scolded. “She’ll die and then we’ll be the ones who’ll be waterboarded. Keep it under forty seconds,” he ordered. “She’s only twenty, she’s practically still a kid.”

“A kid who fell in-love with a killer,” Demetri said smugly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Barnes waterboarded her as training to build up her resistance. I mean- any normal kid would have broke already.”

“We don’t have much time,” Aden reminded him. “We need to find Barnes before he finds us. We won’t be able to take him on our own, so if you want to walk out of here alive you better hurry it up.”

“Do whatever you want,” I told them and tears rolled down my cheeks. “I have nothing to give you.”

“I’m still deciding if you’re brave or stubborn,” Demetri said as he replaced the cloth on my face. This time, as the water filled my throat, I didn’t bother fighting. My body jerked out of reflex but I didn’t struggle; there was no point to it. When he pulled it off, after thirty-eight seconds, I threw up water. “I guess I’m going to have to up my game. Put her back up,” he told Aden.

I was dragged back across to my spot. My chains were reattached to the hook and Aden forcefully pulled on it tugging at my wrists and causing my entire body to lift. I tried my best not to whimper at the pain because I needed to be stronger than that. Demetri walked over and I forced myself not to flinch at his touch. He couldn’t see me break, he couldn’t.

“Set her up,” Demetri commanded before leaving the room.

“I know you know where he is,” Aden whispered so Demetri couldn’t hear him. “What I don’t know is why you’re trying so hard to protect him when he left you here. Just give us what we need and you can go home.”

“I don’t know where he is,” I panted softly.

“Waterboarding is just the beginning, kid.” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s only going to get worst from here on out. Demetri will do anything to break you, he’ll even put a bullet through you. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know where he is,” I repeated.

The door reopened and Demetri came back in with a car battery and a jumpstart cable. I closed my eyes and forced myself to hold back the tears that came with the fear of what they were going to do to me next. I took a deep breath before reopening my eyes.

“You’re going to need this,” Aden muttered and shoved a piece of dry cloth into my mouth. “I’m trying to help you but I can’t if you don’t let me,” he whispered softly before walking away so Demetri could take his place.

“I’m going to give you a bit of a wake up shock,” he slipped on rubber gloves before he clipped the alligator head on a wet sponge and turned on the car battery. “Are you sure you don’t want to break?” He pulled the cloth out of my mouth and asked me.

“I’m sure because your attempts to break me are pathetic.”

“Cute,” he chuckled but I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes as he shoved the cloth back into my mouth. “Don’t think I’m a monster,” he looked over at Aden. “She said it herself, my attempts are-” he pressed the sponge into my stomach and a white hot pain coursed through my body. “Pathetic.”

I couldn’t hear anything during the shock and nothing after for a few seconds. All the background sounds; Demetri’s mocks and taunts, and Aden’s orders, merged into an inaudible noise while I try to recover from the pain.

“I’m not going to break,” I murmured into the cloth to myself between soft pants whilst staring blankly into nothing. “I’m not going to break.” Pant. “I’m not going to break.” Pant. “I’m not going to break.”

“What’s that sweetheart?”

My gaze focused back onto Demetri’s taunting face.

“I’m not going to break,” I continued inaudibly to draw him closer to my face.

“I can’t hear you,” he pulled the cloth out and inched just about close enough.

“I am not going to break,” I spat in his face and he scoffed, flinching back. “I am not going to break. I am going to get out of here and I am going to help Bucky as he tears you a new one. I am going to-”

I was cut off by the cloth being stuffed back into my mouth and the same white hot pain that surged through my veins moments before. It lasted longer this time and I guess passed out for a brief moment because everything went blank.

“You still not going to break?”

I shook my head weakly.


The pain surged through me again and I reflexively bit down on the cloth.







Then nothing.


To be continued.

anonymous asked:

hey ces, i've just been really depressed by the state of fandom lately, and how there's this entitlement mindset in fanfic readers and how many of them take fanfic as something they're owed, exactly the way they want it. have you ever felt this way, and why do you keep writing if so?

I’ve been thinking about this question all day, anon. The truth is, I really don’t get too much of this; people are mostly super nice to me, and my dash is like puppies and rainbows (a well curated dash is a joy forever!) 

That being said, I do sometimes get people wanting me to write this or that in some register from seductive to demanding. I mostly take this as a compliment - it means they like what I do, and so they want me to do something even more to their taste. Doesn’t hurt to ask, right? And in truth I can be imaginatively caught by a good “What if,” so you know, it’s always worth pitching ideas to me - I can be seduced into daydreaming about a thing and I’ve written a lot of stories based on ideas that people threw at me. But when it comes to demands….the thing is, I’m not a professional fiction writer, and one of the reasons I’m not is that I can’t produce fiction on demand. Non-fiction analysis I can produce for you on demand. Give me a thing and tell me you need 3000 words on it by tomorrow and I can do it for you, cut the check.  But fiction…I can only really write what’s next in the pipe. The pipe is another one of my Ways of Thinking About Writing Fiction TM (others include Airplanes and Baseball) , which is that sometimes I do feel like there’s a pipe running and I’m just shoving different things under the tap–little glass, big glass, bucket! vase! someone hand me that–what is that, tea mug, okay that’s full, gimme something else to hold this stuff. I mean, I don’t even do challenges anymore - it’s too hard unless a story that fits the challenge is already coming down the pipe.  Mainly I just make a thing and make another thing and then I make another thing cause it’s fun, and sometimes I’m surprised by what’s in the pipe and what shape container it fills up, and sometimes the water’s clear and running fast and sometimes its a horrible trickle and kind of rusty, but really, what I try to do is keep the tap flowing cause I’m happier when it is. And so when someone sends a comment that’s kind of like, well I wish you would write something totally else, I feel kind of like, well, I have this water here, and this goldfish bowl, um.  You know? Like, I don’t even so much feel bad about it.  To switch metaphors again, it’s like hey, I made cheesecake! and if someone’s like, yeah, but I’d really rather have Linzer Torte, make me a Linzer Torte, the answer’s like…hey, I made cheesecake?

paper cuts (l.h)


this was going to be a long length fanfic on wattpad, that’s why it’s written in first person pov, i think i’ll do it short on here instead.

-my 5sos fanfic wattpad is: @/fxck5sauce, but i don’t think i’ll write on that acc, however the one i’m starting, which will be teen fics is @/-sincerelytiffany and it’ll be amazing if u can check it out :)

summary: For Y/N, her life begun with a 15 days Europe trip and a blue-eyed tour guide leaving paper cut kisses on her fingertips.

 October 22nd, 2018

San Francisco, 5:00 p.m.

“One pumpkin spice latte, please”

I took my order and sat down at the corner of the cafe.

It’s currently 5 p.m. and the crowd is starting to fade, probably heading home to have dinner with their family. Staring at the sidewalk painting with gold and the little acoustic music in the background suddenly gives me so many mixed up feels. Maybe it’s because of the song that’s softly playing, I know I heard it before. In the same spot, maybe even at the same time. Not because it’s a classic, but because of something else. I just know it. Like it’s carved on my heart.

And if you have a minute, talk about it somewhere only we know.

This could be the end of everything, so why don’t we go somewhere only we know

Maybe I’m thinking too much. This was over the radio anyway. I take my phone out, typing a text to my brother to acknowledge him I have got back.

“Hey Tris, just got back. Text me back asap when you see this” I set my phone down and turn my attention back at the view outside. Few seconds later, my phone lights up.

“Hey sis, do you remember the oak tree we used to hang out when we were little? Meet me there this time okay? 5:30, don’t be late x”

My twin brother and I have went separate ways when we started collage three years ago. We’ll meet each other one to three times a month, but usually at his dorm or our house. The fact he chose somewhere we don’t head usually made me wonder if there’s something important he needs to spill. I know him like the back of my hand, when he goes for a different direction there’s always something big behind. I just hope it’s not something bad.

I grab my latte, tighten the grip and carefully make my way to the door, trying not to spill it. As I was going to push the door open, I smell a sweet scent, and no it’s not the coffee.

I look up to see a blue-eyed tall blonde that looks around my age, opening the door for me. Something about his eyes, those crystal blue eyes caught me off guard. Not because of the shimmering color he has, but because of how intense and passion beyond the sea is. As if I have gone there before, his eyes sparkles with, is that hope I see? Little did I know eyes can have so many action when connecting with another. It feels familiar, too familiar.

“Thank you” I finally managed to get the words out.

I can tell he is feeling the tense as well. How did I know? It took him two times to get it right. From ‘You too’ to 'Nice to meet you’, finally with my little help, “No problem” was out in the air. I nod satisfied and walk past him, the last sentence though, was not 'you’re welcome’ or 'bye’, instead 'I miss you’ was thrown out of nowhere. I turn my head back to look at him, his eyes was no longer glittering with wishful thoughts, instead they’re clouded with pain.

Somehow, deep inside me want to reply 'I miss you too’, yet I don’t even know his name.

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