Summary: Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.
Word Count: 2,059
A/N: I’m so so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this written, guys. I’m in my last semester of college and these last few weeks have been absolute hell. I’m slowly trying to catch up with life, while also trying to just make it through finals alive. Anyway, I’m not super thrilled with how this chapter came out, but I feel like I owe it to you guys to at least post it. I’m sorry if it’s not up to my usual standards, but I’m doing my best. Hopefully by the next chapter, I’ll be back to being my usual self.
“Y/N? Are you almost ready doll? We should get going. The appointment’s in an hour and you know how unpredictable traffic can be around this time,” Bucky smiled at you from the doorway, watching as you pulled on your shoes.
“Yup! Just let me grab my purse and I’ll be ready to go!” You nodded, blushing slightly as you felt his eyes trailing over your figure.
Not a fuck customers so much, rather a happy ending from a surprising source. This happened a while ago, but I only just found this blog and wanted to share.
So I worked at a movie theater for about eight months in 2016. Good job, decent hours and fun co-workers (I shouldn’t have fucked it up by being that coworker that always called in, but I’ve learned from that). Pain in the ass in the heat, but it was bearable.
We were sectioned into four areas:
Concession; people who made popcorn
Bloopers (changed from the brand name); which dealt with hot food like burgers and hot dogs as well as frozen yogurt and ice cream
Floor; which was the people ripping tickets and cleaning the lobby and theaters
Box Office; which was just selling tickets, only open in the evening and all day on weekends.
I HATED being on floor. It was boring, I hated standing around and ripping tickets when I could be interacting with guests for more than 5 seconds, and I loathed cleaning theaters. (Which meant I loved when there weren’t a lot of people in them. We had night guys but we were in there cleaning in the 15 minutes between shows)
So you can imagine how great it was when people stayed around for the clip at the end of the Deadpool movie, and Deadpool straight up told everyone in the theater that leaving their garbage was a dick move. I saw more people coming out wondering where to put their garbage than ever before, and saw some of the cleanest theaters in my time being there. Which is saying something, since we only had one ‘premiere’ theater (bigger screen, better sound, nicer seats, two rows of moving seats) that any Marvel or hyped movie went to.
So thanks, Deadpool, for making being on floor not shit for the two/three weeks you were in our theater.
actually Tater who showed him the video, though not on purpose. Tater had seen
the Aces had uploaded a new video to their youtube. It had caught his eye sing
it mentioned the new Ed Sheeran album, clicking on it excitedly as some the
falcs gathered around the small screen of Tater’s phone.
Jack, who had been sitting next to
Tater anyway, wasn’t paying much attention until he heard Kent’s name mentioned.
“Kent’s singing in the stick room!”
The hushed laughter of two of the Aces sounded off screen as they cracked the
door open slightly to film Kent. “We’ve been trying to get a video of him
singing for ages.”
Jack was trapped by the players
leaning on his chair and gathered around them, unable to escape he tried to
ignore it. He couldn’t ignore it. Kent’s voice had a way to reaching him,
crawling into back of his skull. Kent hadn’t sung much back before the draft,
very few people had heard him sing. Even Jack had only heard him sing a few
The last time Jack had seen Kent was
at a game. A game that Bitty had attended. Jack had brought Bitty with him when
the team went out for drinks, where they had run into a few Aces, including
Kent. Jack had Kent recognise Bitty, and Jack didn’t think it was much of a
leap for Kent to figure it out.
On the screen Kent’s voice went into
the chorus of ‘Happier’ by Ed Sheeran, Jack only recognised the song because
Bitty had been excited about the new album and it was one of the few albums
that both of them enjoyed.
“Yeah, you look happier, you do. Ain’t
nobody hurt you like I hurt you, but ain’t nobody love you like I love you.”
Kent sang. His expressions matched the lyrics as he sung.
Jack stopped pretending to ignore
it, the lyrics seemed so heartfelt, and Kent always managed to get a reaction
out of Jack, whether he meant to or not. Jack knew rationally that Kent wasn’t
doing thison purpose, he was just singing as he worked, but Jack still felt as
though it were directed at him.
The video stopped as one the Ace GM’s
shooed them away. As soon as it ended the falcs started talking about it.
“Parse got pipes.” Thirdy whistled.
“Maybe he quit, become singer.”
“Damn, hey Jack did you know Parse
could sing?” Snowy nudged Jack’s shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts.
The look on Jack’s face must have
been something because suddenly they were all looking at him, Marty and Thirdy
frowing slightly. They had all met Bitty, they knew who he was to Jack, and
suddenly the pieces fell into place for them.
stumbled a bit as he stood up.
“Uh yeah, little bit.” But his voice
was weak, so he coughed and repeated what he said. Then he had left.
It was well
after practice when Kent called him. He was attempting to make a meal Bitty had
left the recipe for and was about to give up when his phone started ringing. He
paused when he saw the caller ID, then took a breath and answered it.
“Kent.” He said. On the other end he
could hear a deep breath.
“Hey, Jack.” There was a beat as
neither said anything. “It wasn’t about you. I mean, it wasn’t meant to be. I
was just like that song, but I guess if the shoe fits.” He gave a humourless
Jack tried to say something, but
honestly couldn’t think of what to say. I
know you didn’t mean it. I know it wasn’t for me. I know you don’t still love
me because you never did.
“You do look happier though, the Falcs
are a good team and… and with Bittle too. I saw you guys when we first came
into the bar, and you guys looked so happy. And Zimms, I’m happy that you’re
“I – thanks Kent.” After their first
game against one another, he though that’s how it would always be. Similar to
how their relationship had been, all physical and no communication.
Kent gave a quiet laugh on the other
end of the line. There was long moment of silence as Jack desperately thought
of something to say. If this was when they finally talked to each other, then
he wanted to get it all out. He didn’t want this to be a one off, he didn’t
want them to go back to having that uncomfortable tension around them. Because
after everything, Kent had been his friend. His best friend.
“I want you to be happy too. I was
perhaps a little jealous, when you won the Stanley cup, but I was also a
little, proud? If that’s the right word. I don’t know. But I just thought, ‘that’s
the Parse I know.’”
“Thanks Jack, but you don’t need to
do this.” Kent’s voice dropped to a saddened whisper. “I know I’ve not been
great. Especially last that November I – I know I’m a dick alright? I just, ah
fuck Jack, there’s so much to say.”
“Yeah I know.” Beat. “I was a dick
“Who you? Never.” Kent cursed ast
himself and sighed. “Fuck jack, sorry, I know, we’re actually trying for once
and I’m already being, ha, well I’m being me. An asshole.”
“Yeah well, we’re both assholes.”
Jack took a moment to work up the courage to say his next words. “I shouldn’t
have – I should’ve – ah, Kent –” Jack closed his eyes and tried to arrange his
words in a cohesive manner.
“How about the next time you’re in
Vagas, or if I’m ever in Providence, we can get coffee, or dinner, or
something. Hash it all out properly.” Kent’s voice sounded tired.
Jack swallowed thickly, “Yeah Kent,
that sounds great.”
“And hey, maybe you can invite
Jack smiled to himself, “Sure Kent.”
“See ya around, Zimms.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you Kenny.” There
was a soft sound on the other end of the line as Jack used Kent’s old nickname,
the one only Jack had used.
As the call disconnected, Jack
allowed himself a moment to absorb what had happened that day. After he had
seen the video he had tried his hardest not to think about it. To not
overanalyse it. And that call, Kent had tried to apologise, and he had
attempted to do the same. They were possibly going to have a sit down and
actually talk about it.
Jack tried to gauge how he felt
about that. There was a slight nervous feeling, the beginning of what would
probably be him overthinking and getting a hell of a lot of anxiety over it.
But at the same time, there was a calm wave slowly rolling in, he was going to
get over this block that was in his past.
His phone buzzed again on the
countertop. Looking at the caller ID he smiled. Any tension he felt drained from
him as he answered before the first ring had finished.
May I request? It’s quite angsty and the scenario is where the reader, Winter Soldier and Captain America are in a life threatening situation, in which only two of them can make it out alive so the reader devises a plan - Prompt line: “You have to trust me on this one” that requires her to stay behind and get killed. The other two don’t realize what the reader has done till it’s too late.
Warnings/Themes: Angst, Panic, Implication of character death, cussing
Author’s Note: I’m not lying when I say that I wrote this at 2am in the morning. This has not been checked for errors, so woops. Enjoy some angst and bad fluency!
Word Count: 2,270 words
Y/N = Your Name
”Making my way to the front of the compromised helicarrier. (Y/N), Buck, do you guys copy?”
“Got it Cap. How many are you seeing, Bucky?”
“Three by the looks of it.”
You were looking for a bomb, the reason unknown to you. The problem was- it was designed so compactly that it would’ve been the size of a fucking lipstick tube and no one would know.
I just wanted to write some smooches and play with that headcanon of mine that Hanzo just likes kissing a lot
The room is dark, lit only by the gentle glow of the TV on the far wall. The clock next to it says 3:02 AM. There is a movie playing on the television screen, its sound dimmed to a low murmur, but Hanzo has long since lost track of the plot. His eyes are heavy with drowsiness, but he can’t bring himself to get to his feet and go back to bed.
Beside him, McCree sits, gazing absently toward the TV but looking likewise unfocused. His head is propped in his hand, his body turned toward Hanzo but attention elsewhere. Between them, their hands are joined and resting on the couch, and McCree’s thumb strokes idly over Hanzo’s skin. McCree had been too on-edge, too raw from his own nightmares when he stumbled into the rec room to handle any other contact, but they had both needed that grounding touch. For Hanzo, it is not quite enough, but he will not push McCree’s boundaries.