#even if they were created like. a year apart

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

4 - Friendship Lost

It's always one step forward and two steps back for Purple. An unexpected reunion between the color gang and a long lost friend threatens to tear apart Purple with jealousy.

Time flies. Months rolled by since that argument and the gang kept true to their word.  They did their best to not start unsanctioned fights whenever they got upset or angry. At least, while in front of Purple.

But that was fine by Purple. Without the worry about a potential fuse blowing, Purple felt more at ease being around them. Visits to each other’s desktops became more frequent as a result. Purple found himself chilling on the Animator’s desktop more often than his own as the year went on, entertained by the creative ways the four played with Minecraft and other games.

It distracted him from the pain. A pain that was lessening in intensity every month, but Purple could still feel it. The thoughts nagged at him; how would Orchid and Navy feel about what he was doing? How long is this friendship going to last, really? 

“You know, we were originally created to fight each other for eternity,” Yellow confessed to Purple privately one day as they showed him around their website.

The mention of being created for the purpose of fighting made Purple’s stomach clench uneasily.

“This was where we were meant to be,” Yellow said, gesturing to the blank white walls, “to fight for the rest of our days until one of us won.” They dropped their hands to their sides. “We ended up declaring a truce two weeks in.”

“Why?” Purple asked. “What made you stop?”

“Look around,” Yellow said. “I like this place. I come here whenever I need space, but it wasn’t like that initially. Imagine you were created to hate four other people, and your creator put you in a box with them, and none of you could leave that box.”

Purple’s eyes widened slowly as he tried to imagine, yet he couldn’t. Suddenly, the sparse decor and white color felt oppressive. Yellow smiled sadly.

“You understand, even when you like it, fighting grows monotonous here,” Yellow said, “I still have these thoughts of attacking them when we’re just hanging out, doing nothing… sometimes I see in their eyes, they have the exact same instinct that I have. But, I think we’ve been getting better at handling them. Thanks.”

Why are you thanking me? Purple thought, I just pointed out the obvious without even knowing how you lived.

He still didn’t know them all that well, did he?

“How did you get out?” Purple asked softly.

To that, Yellow looked away, shoulders tense.

“A stick figure broke in, somehow,” Yellow said, letting out a bemused huff, “that Orange kid… they came looking for a fight for some reason, but didn’t even have a proper fighting stance. When we saw the wall was broken down, we were so happy to be free and almost ignored them! They were chill enough to show us around the computer” He sighed. “But then Alan deleted us.”

Purple nearly tripped over himself. “Alan deleted you?”

“We spawned right back here,” Yellow said, so casually as if the fact Alan deleting them didn’t warrant further explanation, “We couldn’t do much until he refreshed the page, and when he did, the desktop was a mess. Orange had fought Alan and ran off.”

“As they should!” Purple said, crossing his arms, “Why are you living with Alan after what he did to you?”

“I mean, well,” Yellow cleared their throat, “Alan really regretted what he did. I don’t think there’s a day that goes by that he doesn’t, probably why he treats us so kindly now. We came to forgive him after a while, but I get it if you feel differently after knowing that.”

Purple didn’t know what to say. Had Yellow said nothing, Purple would still be blissfully ignorant and see the Animator as yet another kindly human. The shock of it left him stunned.

“He asked us to find them, and helped us search. We went out into the city putting up flyers…” Yellow kicked the ground. “But we got nothing. We tried for months before we just gave up. It's been almost two years since we last heard of them.” Yellow whistled. “Hard to believe it’s been that long, huh?”

“Yeah,” Purple’s heart hammered. He nodded, feeling uneasy at the mention of the passage of time. “Can hardly believe it.”

The year wrapped up, and soon Purple’s birthday reared its ugly head again. They already celebrated the gang’s mutually shared birthday, so of course the others wanted to celebrate Purple’s in kind. Purple should have known better than to have told them his birthday was coming. He should have expected it when they invited him to their desktop that day without warning and surprised them with a large cake.

“Happy birthday!” 

Purple eyed the cake, staring at the numbered candles that read “18” on it.

That can’t be real, can it?

“Eighteen, eh?” Green walked up and playfully nudged Purple’s shoulder, oblivious to how still Purple was. “What’s it feel like to be a certified old person?”

It was meant to be a joke, so Green couldn’t know how much it hurt Purple to hear. 

Old. Somehow time slipped past him, and Purple was now officially an adult. And yet he didn’t feel like he was. It didn’t register that he was older now, aging. He would have been a senior by now, a couple months from graduating. He could picture it clearly: wearing the cap, the gown, his mother staring at him with pride…

But no. He was here, a high school dropout, spending his life in a game made for children instead of going to college or finding a job. His mother was gone, and she would never get the chance to see her son become an adult.

She died young, he realized, as he watched the cake with its light pink frosting drip. But she died old.

Would the same fate happen to him?

“Purple? Purple, what's the matter?”

Purple couldn’t hear Blue’s concerned voice over the sudden, gross sobbing that seized him. Purple hid his shame in his hands, trying to push the tears back, but the sobbing wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, was it the joke?”Green asked, shocked, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He trailed off, unsure as to what had set him off. None of them saw Purple reduce to such tears in the year knowing him. Purple wouldn’t have allowed it before.

“Please, no,” Purple tried to speak through the blubbering, “I’m not ready – I don’t want this. Please.”

Arms wrapped around him, and Purple felt himself being ushered off the desktop and sat down somewhere else. Purple gulped air down, wiping away the streaks as he heard the others trying to calm him down. He noticed that they brought him to their webpage, sitting around the card table. Yellow and Green were beside him while Red and Blue looked across anxiously.

When the sniffling died down did Yellow ask, “What was that all about?”

“Really, Yellow?” Blue frowned at Yellow.

“What? I have no idea what happened!” Yellow said. “I’m sorry Purple, but that was… kinda scary. Did we do something?”

“Is it something about your birthday?” Red asked.

Purple shut his eyes and willed himself to breathe slowly and evenly. Thankfully, they stopped asking their questions as he tried to calm down. 

I never did explain to them about my mother, Purple thought. Despite knowing each other for a year at this point, he found that there was never a good time to explain all of his mess. Of his loss, or why certain days he wanted no contact from them. It was daunting, frightening to even tell them of it.

But when he opened his eyes again he saw the faces of his concerned friends who only wanted to celebrate with him.

They told me their issues, he supposed.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you all…” Purple confessed quietly. “What happened before we met…”

=

“This is where you buried her?”

Purple could only shrug at Green’s question. “There was no body to bury.”

It was a week after his birthday. A week after he shared about his mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, and his reasons for hating his birthday. When Purple admitted that he had not visited her grave since her death, it was Blue’s recommendation for him to go. She emphasized that he didn’t have to or could go alone if he wanted, but he insisted they visit.

Purple forgot that seasons passed for the city, and it was winter. Here they all were, standing in the chill with little in the way of protection. The tombstones were covered in thick piles of snow. The Minecraft daisy they placed before her grave blended in with the ground. 

“It’s strange,” Purple said after a moment of silence, “some days I don’t feel much of anything, I hardly think of her. Other days it hits me like a train, and it hurts so much.”

Yellow let out a small hum in acknowledgement, but otherwise was silent. He, Blue, and Green stared at her grave in silence, while Red was looking around the cemetery, eyes darting from grave to grave.

“You alright, Red?” Purple asked.

“Huh? No, I’m fine,” she said in a rush, made awkward by Purple’s question. “It’s just…” she looked up at the sky, straining to think. “…a lot of graves here.”

“We are in a cemetery, Red,” Green said with bitter sarcasm.

“I know. It’s just… a lot of dead rest here,” Red said, quietly, “it’s been weighing on my mind, I guess.”

Guess she’s just uncomfortable and bored, Purple thought. He empathized with that feeling. He was dreading coming back to the cemetery the whole travel time, fearing that he’d repeat his gross sobbing again. But he didn’t; no tears were shed.

Despite how morose he felt standing before her grave, he felt also at ease with his friends by his side.

“So,” Purple announced, clapping his hands and startling them. “I don’t think you guys really got to see the sights around here. How about you follow me?”

=

Purple didn’t have any cash on hand, so he couldn’t treat them to lunch. But there was a park nearby with a track and field. He figured they would like physical activity even if it was cold.

“It's so lovely out here!” Blue said, taking in the pristine landscape.

“Look! A squirrel!” Red pointed up at the trees.

“I don’t see anything,” Yellow said, trying to peer up through the bare branches. “Are you sure a squirrel would be up during winter, Red?”

Purple and Green stood off to the side, Green chuckling. “I’m not surprised that Red and Blue adore the place.”

“I used to come here a lot when I was a little kid,” Purple said.

“As little as them?” Green asked, pointing out to the field. Children were running around, screaming, throwing snowballs, and making snowpeople. “Wow, they are very small…”

Right, you never really had a childhood like I did, Purple reminded himself. It made him realize that his mother and father were the same as Green; they also never had a childhood the way Purple and his high school peers did.

“You know, you should be grateful you skipped that stage,” Purple said, “I have so many embarrassing memories, let me tell you.”

He waited for Green to say something in response, but when none came, he turned to look. Green had come to a standstill, looking at a nearby park bench with eyes stretched wide in surprise. Purple turned back to try and look for what was happening but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. There were kids running about, parents eating at a park bench, an orange teen playing swords with their younger brother…

Wait, Purple paused upon seeing the teen. The distinctive hollow head was something Purple only saw once, but couldn’t forget. They were talking with his old high school friends about him...

“Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

And Green was staring at them with the biggest grin on his face.

“Guys! Come quickly!” Green called Red, Blue, and Yellow over, waving, “It’s Orange!”

“Orange?” Blue exclaimed as they ran over. She rubbed her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, “It is! They were here this whole time?”

“What are we waiting for?” Red said, taking off after them. “Come on!”

Green, Blue, and Yellow quickly raced after Red, leaving Purple in the dust.

“Ah! Wait!” Purple chased after them. A little too late, as the group already went skidding up to Orange. The golden child they were playing with, surprised by five random stick figures coming up to them, rushed to Orange's side, hiding partially behind their back.

And Orange shared the same look Green had earlier, shock turned to a disbelieving joy.

“Green? Red?” they said, “Blue and Yellow too? I thought you were-”

“Yes!” Green laughed. “We’re here! And we’re okay, see?”

“Oh my goodness!” Orange jumped up to hug Green, “I thought you were dead!”

“We got better!” Yellow said, joining in the hug. “I thought we would never see you again!” Red and Blue joined as well, creating a rainbow group hug.

You only knew them for a day and haven’t seen them in years! Purple balked at the sight of his friends hugging a stranger. He stood off to the side, staring and then looking at the child who looked just as bewildered and confused as he felt. 

This kid feels familiar too, but I can’t place where I saw him?

The child regarded Purple with similar recognition, his eyes squinting in judgment. Recovered from the shock, they charged into Orange’s friends, trying to shove and push them off of the hollow head.

“Get away from Second!” He shouted, smacking Red with his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Given that the child was half Red’s size and bulk, she broke from the group and looked down with curiosity. “Who’s this?”

The others broke the hug and turned their attention to Gold. Upon seeing muscular teens and his pitiful efforts to push them off, the kid shrank back a couple steps.

“Come on, Gold, don’t be rude!” Orange said, rubbing the kid’s shoulder, “Guys, this is my little brother, Gold.”

“Aww, a little brother?” Blue cooed.

“Hey! Same color as me!” Yellow said, holding his hand out for a high five.

Gold eyed their hand nervously. “I’m darker,” Gold corrected, crossing his arms.

“Only a bit,” Yellow said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

“How did you get a little brother? What have you been up to this whole time?” Green asked. “We tried looking for you…”

“You have?” Orange said, placing a hand on their cheek, “this whole time? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

Green exchanged a concerned look with Yellow and Blue as though that was a strange statement. Only Red didn’t seem bothered.

“Oh, come off it,” Red waved her hand, “you couldn’t help it! We should just be glad to meet again despite it all!”

Orange beamed at Red. “Yeah! You have to tell me what you’ve been up to?” They said, their eyes turning to Purple, “Like, who’s this?”

The suddenness of being acknowledged caused Purple to flinch slightly. Their curious stare made Purple feel like he shouldn’t be there at all.

“This is our friend, Purple,” Green said, “We met him through Minecraft!”

There, it was - only for a second, but Purple could see the moment Orange registered the name. The smile dimmed, eyebrows lowered before returning to normal.

Were they wondering if I’m that Purple their other friends talked about? He thought, feeling his palms sweat. The horrible high school dropout?

If they did, they didn’t comment. Instead they turned back to Green to continue the conversation. “Minecraft?” 

“It’s a video game!” Green said, “Ah, man, we got so much to tell you.”

“Same here!” Orange said, “It’s time for lunch anyways, and I have money saved up.” They looked down at Gold. “How about you, feeling up for some hot chocolate and pastries?”

Gold looked up at Orange like it was a bad idea before nodding anyways. 

“Awesome! I’m starved!” Red said, pumping her arms up.

And I feel sick, Purple thought.

=

That fateful meeting changed everything. Now that the gang was reunited with their old friend, they were desperate to reconnect. Purple and Gold felt like accessories, watching as the five conversed with each other.

Only, Gold joined in to ask his curious questions more often, slowly warming up to the new stick figures. After the conversation was over and it was time for them to head home, Gold had taken a strong liking to them.

Purple couldn’t say the same. Orange spoke of school and their after-school curriculars. They were positively thriving: a Straight-A student, getting an A+ in an honors math class no less, becoming their soccer team’s team captain… Oh, and on top of being brilliant in sports and academics, they were a prolific artist. They even pulled out a stunning piece of art from their pocket to show them.

Oh, how Purple hated them. 

He thought he couldn’t hate anyone more than he hated his father, but no, that didn’t hold a candle to the burning disgust he had for this stupid and apparently perfect stick figure! Didn't help that the others loved them to bits. Even after heading back to the desktop, with promises to meet up again, they talked about Orange the whole way back. Purple tried to tune them out, but it was impossible, because he couldn’t stop thinking of them either.

No one can be that great, Purple thought, stomach churning.

“Hey, Purple?” Blue said, “You’ve been quiet for a long time. Are you feeling alright?”

Purple turned his head, his face turning to stone less he expressed how he really felt. Blue was quicker to detect something was wrong, but her concern made Purple rankle.

Oh, I’m sorry, am I bringing down the mood after meeting your better friend? He thought. 

“I think the hot chocolate didn’t sit well with me,” Purple said instead. 

“Need some milk then?” Red asked.

Purple shook his head. “I think I’ll retire for tonight.”

Yellow frowned and looked down at the desktop clock. “It’s only 6-”

“Good night! See you tomorrow!” Purple shouted before booking it out of there. He raced towards his room and closed his door with a slam loud enough to spook nearby villagers. But he couldn’t rest, even when night did fall. Nothing he did could settle the newfound distress in his chest.

It only got worse as the months rolled on and winter melted away into spring. The gang started making plans to visit Orange more often. They wanted to hang at the arcade, the parks, the mall, Orange’s soccer matches and art competitions. They wanted to play with their little brother, Gold. Purple was invited to tag along, but it felt like a formality, as Purple hardly felt included in their conversations when he joined.

Some days, they played Minecraft like normal, adventuring like usual. But there was always that shadow of Orange. So many mentions of “Orange would love this game!” or “Can’t wait to tell Orange!”

Purple struggled to find anything really wrong with Orange personality wise. And believe him, he scoured for any dirt. They were polite, if cautious. They were an attentive listener to the gang’s wild stories. They cared for Gold and their mysterious father figure, Mango Tango. It seemed like the small family were openly proud of Orange’s accomplishments, given the times Gold bragged about Orange.

The gang were unabashedly proud of Orange too, so happy when they met up.

He couldn’t help but wonder, had Orange not run away, would they even be friends with Purple? Was he just a pathetic replacement to tide them over until they found Orange again?

I hate this. Purple thought with resentment. Why am I not good enough for anyone?

At some point, Purple had enough and tried avoiding Orange whenever he could. He declined outings, blaming Alana or some villager for his “full” schedule. Eventually the others could tell he was full of baloney, but they did not try to challenge him on it.

Time played in reverse. At first, they tried to be consistent with their meetups, then they started missing those. Eventually they hung out occasionally every two weeks, then once every month. And the times they did meet up felt stilted, awkward. The games they played weren’t as fun as they were before.

It all came to a head on Gold’s birthday.

The gang wanted to get a present for Gold and invited Purple, out of formality. Much to their surprise, Purple took the invitation instead of declining. Purple wasn’t exactly sure why; he hated Orange and found Gold annoying. But he missed the gang.

How did it get to this point? Why can’t we go back to before you found Orange again?  He wanted to ask, but he kept those words deep in his heart.

Orange met up with them at the mall, greeting them with hugs. 

“Oh, Purple, you’re here too!” they said, standing awkwardly before Purple.

“Yep,” he grumbled, giving them a half-hearted wave.

Just like that, a stilted awkwardness hung over the group. They walked around, looking for a good store and discussing what gifts Gold would like. Usually, Orange lead at the front in these endeavors, but this time they hung in the back, walking beside Purple.

“Sooo, it’s been awhile since I last saw you,” Orange said after some point of silence, “How’ve you been?”

Stop pretending like you care, Purple scowled, only bothering to shrug in response. I’m not your friend.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Orange continued, not discouraged by Purple’s coldness, “Do you know someone named Chestnut? Or Periwinkle?”

Purple squinted at Orange. “I might, I might not,” he said, “Why do you ask?”

“Because they might have mentioned you,” Orange said, “that you used to go to our school, but you stopped coming two years ago…”

“Oh, really? Did they tell you because they were worried about me?” Purple asked, “or did they just want to spread some juicy gossip about me?”

To that, Orange looked elsewhere.

“You could clear it up,” Orange said, “they didn’t say many kind things about you, but my friends–” they looked to Red and Yellow arguing with Green and Blue about some tangential thing, “– really like you. And they’re worried about you too. They’ve mentioned you’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“Oh! Oh, really? Because that’s news to me,” Purple snapped. It stung. If they were concerned, why did they not tell Purple? Why tell Orange instead?

No, Purple doubted they said anything. Orange had to be asking for an alternative reason.

 “So you’re trying to see if it’s my fault?” Purple growled, pointing a finger at them.

Orange waved their hands in a panic. “No! No! I’m not-”

“Then why bring it up?” Purple continued. “Right after mentioning my former friends? Oh no, your friends wouldn’t do anything wrong or have the wrong idea. It has to be Purple’s fault! He’s up to his old manipulative ways again! Well, I’m not the one who goes to Alan’s to see if they want to hang out, and finds they’ve bailed on me to go see you! If anything, it’s your fault!”

Orange’s eyes stretched and narrowed. “My fault? It’s not at all my fault they wanted to hang out with me,” Orange challenged. “Besides, they say that you decide to pass when meeting here. They’re allowed to have other friends, Purple!” 

“If they didn’t run into you, everything would be as usual,” Purple yelled, “We would be hanging out and going on adventures! Instead, we’re going shopping for your dumb brother.”

“Don’t you dare call Gold dumb.” Orange yelled back, and it was the first time Purple saw a murderous anger burn in their eyes. They jabbed a finger in his chest and it hurt. “You apologize right now- ”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Purple pushed their hands back, “That would make you look real bad, huh? You’d look like a temperamental jerk if you did. What have you been telling them about me? Have you been calling me an umbrella thief? Or an absolute flake? Have you been trying to turn them against me?”

“Shut up!” Orange was shaking with rage. They raised their fists. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Purple repeated.

“Stop it!” Green came in between them before either could say or make another move. “Stop it, both of you!”

Red and Yellow had rushed to Orange’s side to pull them back while Blue grasped at Purple’s shoulders. Both stick figures pushed the offending hands off of them.

Green was looking between them in bewilderment. “What is going on?”

“Nothing,” Orange said, crossing their arms, “Purple’s being a real jackass.”

“Ha! I could say the same about you!” Purple laughed, “You were about to hit me!” 

“Purple,” Green warned, “this isn't like you. Why are you starting fights?”

“Why are you accusing me?” Purple yelled, “You’re taking their side!”

“We’re not,” Blue said, moving beside Green, “but Purple, you’ve been acting really different for a long time.”

“Becoming very bitter,” Yellow added. “You hardly want to hang with us.”

“I hardly want to hang out with you? Me?” Purple snapped. “Maybe I don’t want all my hangouts to be with a loser like them!” He pointed at Orange, and Red had to pull Orange back again. “You guys hang off them as if they can walk on water!”

They all had the gall to be stunned by Purple’s statement. Were they that oblivious to how Purple felt the entire time?

“Purple, we thought we’d never see them again,” Green said, “They thought we were dead for years! What’s wrong with wanting to spend time with them after all the time we lost?”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Purple growled, “but it’s funny how you knew me for longer, and you chose to hang out with them! Every time! Right after I showed you–” He stopped, recalling Orange was there and observing.

Like he’d ever share his past to them.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Red asked.

“I thought it was obvious!”

“We’re not mind readers!” Green snapped, pointing a finger at Purple, “You always do that! You sulk and get mad at us without ever telling us jack! I thought we were over this?”

“Why didn’t you ask?” Purple asked. “You noticed I was being different, and you never thought to ask?”

“You… make it hard to ask…” Blue said, rubbing her arm.

“Right, of course, it's all my fault again!” Purple growled, turning away. As he did, he saw the crowd of shoppers around them, having paused to watch the argument unfold. Given their judging stares, no doubt they saw Purple as the one in the wrong again.

“Purple! We’re not accusing you! We just asked you to tell us,” Green said. He placed his hand on Purple’s arm. “We’re friends. You should feel comfortable telling us how you really feel!”

“Are we really?” Purple asked, yanking his arm back. He glared at all of them, hating how they stood beside Orange. “Are we really friends if you keep blowing me off for someone else?”

Green looked helplessly at him. “Purple…”

But he added nothing more, and Purple turned away.

“Guess that answers it,” Purple said, “I guess this is it, then. I’m leaving. Don’t you dare follow me!”

“Purple!”

Purple ran and didn’t dare look back. Despite what he said, part of him hoped that one of them would run after him, to stop him.

They didn’t.

[stardustbuck]

Honestly -

Most of these ‘fans’ do not like Buck for Buck. They have created a version of him in canon and anything he does that doesn’t fit it it’s OOC for them, even if it is exactly how he’d act (case in point: The BT scene on 710). They, somehow, cannot accept Buck has changed and matured and is not the same guy he was during S2/S3. Hell, he’s grown alone during S7 alone. Discovering a part of himself has done wonders for him.

Likewise, I truly believe the only representation they care about or want is if it comes in the form of Buddie. They cry on how Henren is being ignored and how it is BuckTommy’s fault, but when have they ever shown care or interest for them beforehand? They use them as part of their argument without giving them proper attention. They don’t care we now have great mlm representation on screen in a show like 911, they’re just mad because it is not Buddie.

And I do suspect they became this mad this fast because they do see the potential of BT and they know this can very well be a LTR for Buck. Ofc we don’t know what will happen, but if we look at it from a neutral POV, we all can see the seeds being planted for Tommy to be there for a while. They’ve made creative choices with him that they haven’t made with no other LI that really sells it for me, to be honest.

(Including giving them a particular sound for everytime they have a moment, but I digress)

I do agree with you - I care about Buck being happy. I was quick to get on board with BT because I have never seen Buck act so giddy and into someone. And so far, I think Tommy is matching him really well. We’ll see what happens in Season 8, but I would be surprised if they break up during it, even more so if it is ep 3/4, which arguably will be right after the start of the season (assuming they go for a multi eps opener)

If I'm being honest, the toxic side of that part of the fandom feels very reminiscent of certain subset of another fandom I'm apart of that I do not want to delve into because I've already done so many times.

get ready for a long response

I came into the 911 fandom as bvddie shipper, I still love the ship itself, idc if it ever goes canon because fanfic exists, edits exist, fanart exists. I love eddie and buck as separate characters respectively and I do not need them to be together enjoy their relationship whether it's platonic or romantic.

I think a lot of the loud, toxic shippers cannot separate them. Listen I think the co-parent jokes are hilarious and cute, but when it comes down to it in reality of the show, buck is not chris' parent. he's like an uncle, so many ppl grow up with their parents friends as their "aunts and uncles" and that's exactly how I'm viewing chris and bucks relationship ever since I've come down from the bvddie high of analyzing everything and putting meaning behind every little piece of dialogue or set design or just like anything. I can acknowledge 911 is not a blockbuster franchise that has months or years of thought put into meaning behind set design or clothing choices like other fandoms I'm apart of that absolutely have so much thought and time put into them for things like that.

bvddie in itself is a great concept. absolutely you can read into scenes as being romantic even if they never were intended that way, that's what we do as fans. I completely understand why ppl see them as endgame because they're absolutely allowed to think that. but us bucktommy shippers are allowed to also talk about why we think bucktommy is endgame. I think that's another issue ppl are having is being able to curate their own feed, if you don't want to see people talk about one of these topics then block accs, block tags, keep your peace!

buck and tommy absolutely feel as though they have been written to last from what I've seen so far so tommy leaving so quickly would feel weird and like a punch in the gut to the journey buck as made. he made the effort to be with tommy even after everything went south. tommy made the effort to show up for buck. we are shown them being on very good terms by the season finale, like, we are probably intimate with one another and are in our cute honeymoon phase type of good terms. having them break up so early would be another Ali/Natalia moment and like, I just am tired of the same story being repeated for buck.

If they really were going for bvddie endgame, I think it would have been done this season. tommy wouldn't have been brought in at all or wouldn't have been involved in the plot outside helping rescue bobby and athena. they didn't need kim there, they could have built on eddies catholic guilt for his queer arc, they could have written what people were theorizing with the bachelor party where buck and eddie ended up kissing while drunk which could have spurred their relationship to begin and still have eddie go through a crisis and found a way to have chris still leave for texas (if they wanted to stick with a cheating arc, it could have been marisol & chris walking in on buck and eddie kissing) like there's so many things people theorized that genuinely would have been great ways to have bvddie be endgame but literally none of those things happened and instead we got buck in a stable, happy relationship with tommy that has been set up in a way that absolutely can have them going through all sorts of things from strengthening their relationship to testing their relationship. tommy can absolutely be integrated into the plot as much as karen is if not more. all I can say is why throw away such potential when you already had the other potential there?

also as an eddie diaz defender, they can never make me hate eddie diaz, I just want to see him not feel this constant need to find a new mom/wife when he's never had time for himself EVER. he needs therapy, he needs to build back trust with christopher, he needs to stop searching for this perfect woman because if there's someone out there for him they will find him eventually. I really want eddie to focus on chris and himself and stop worrying so much about what his life should look like per his family/what society thinks his life should look like.

I truly cannot stress enough how much eddie needs to fix himself and his and chris' relationship before jumping into another romance, whether it be buck or anyone else.

on the other hand, buck deserves to be loved ANYWAYS. tommy is already showing potential to just love buck anyways despite anything that happens, that he'll do anything for him, that he can be his rock. gerrard can definitely be smh to shake them up, no couple in this show is safe from anything no matter how in love and happy they are. it's time for buck to have his madney, bathena, henren moments with his own love interest. buck deserves to be happy with tommy, to go through the hard times with him, for someone to love him no matter what and that absolutely does not take away from how important buck and eddie's friendship is. people cannot seem to grasp that unfortunately and it's sad.

in other words, im so tired of people acting like they are superior over ships. I truly am.

[munsooooon]

gave you the gun, blow me away.

Warning: english is not my first language, so feel free to let me know if any mistake. im getting used to write in english.

The music felt slow and soft even though it was loud music, it seemed like someone at some point had intentionally lowered the volume of the music, at that time it was a purely ambient element, which was in the background as if it were the vibe that was maintaining together with everyone who was in the place because at that point in the party everyone was doing their own thing, there were very drunk boys and girls scattered all over the place, some passed out, some kissing, and some others having conversations that made no sense whatsoever.

Eddie and Steve were no exception.

Steve was sitting on the side of the pool, on his lap, trying to create a face on a huge pumpkin that Eddie had no idea where he got. They had drunk a lot, danced a lot more and they had held hands throughout the party so as not to get lost in the enormous wave of people that surrounded them. Eddie smiled because of the beautiful man he was watching and because it was incredible that a few years ago they had fought against an indescribable underworld, at that point in their lives it seemed like something they had collectively hallucinated and not something real.

‘’Hey Steve.’’

‘’Hmm?’’ Steve exclaimed without leaving his pumpkin aside.

‘’It's almost 5 in the morning’’

‘’Mmm, I don't have the energy to go home.’’

‘’We can take a taxi.’’

Steve didn't answer for a few seconds, he was quite focused on fitting the knife into the eye of the pumpkin.

‘’Look!’’ Steve drawled. ‘’it's like the Hellfire logo’’

Eddie smiled because Steve still remembered Hellfire, of course he still played D&D especially with the kids (who weren't kids anymore) and the gang, but they had stopped calling each other Hellfire, they were just friends playing.

‘’Very metal, darling.’’

Steve wasn't looking at Eddie, but he looked incredibly pleased with the other boy's response. Eddie smiled because damn, he loved him too much. He looked at him for a few seconds and then moved until he invaded Steve's personal space, who didn't care at all, he simply smiled and continued focused on his task.

‘’Let's go home, Stevie.’’ Eddie whispered with his face hidden in Steve's neck.

"Don't be an old man, Dee."

Eddie pulled away and looked at him with amusement, moving closer until their faces were facing each other a few millimeters apart.

‘’Stop behaving like a rich, spoiled child.’’

Steve bit Eddie's shoulder, laughing pleased.

‘’Let's find a room to sleep, wherever we are is my home, if you are there.’’

Eddie felt his eyes shine when he heard Steve's words, his breath caught for a few seconds. He was crazy about him. 

Steve smiled and brushed his nose against Eddie's, because it was already decided, they would stay in a house that they had no idea who owned because they had arrived at that party thanks to Robin, who had already left with her girlfriend, at least three hours before. Steve continued perfecting his pumpkin, lost in his mind, they were silent for a long time because there was nothing more to say.

“It's starting to get light,” Eddie whispered while holding a cigarette.

Steve looked straight at the sky in silence with half-closed eyes, it was true, bright and light blue tones were beginning to appear, he yawned in response, it seemed that his body took it as a signal to start feeling tired. Eddie smiled as he saw him yawn.

‘’I'm very in love with you, Steve Harrington.’’

Steve smiled while still looking at the sky.

‘’I know, I'm in love with you too.’’

Eddie laughed softly.

‘’Is this how we finally decided to say it?’’

‘’Hmm.‘’ Steve exclaimed, pleased. ‘’There was no rush, love.’’

Eddie looked at him intently and curiously, Steve finally took his gaze off the sky and looked straight into Eddie's eyes.

‘’The day you came out of the Upside Down, when I carried you out and you opened your eyes for the first time, I realized I loved you and in those seconds we looked at each other I know we decided we would spend the rest of our lives together, we made a promise even if we didn't say it in words so there was no need to rush. There is no way we could exist without each other, that day you died and came back to life the universe proclaimed us as Steve and Eddie, Steve and Eddie together forever.’’

Eddie looked at him perplexed.

"You won't forget this when you're sober, promise me," Eddie whispered against Steve's lips.

"I'm not drunk, Eddie."

‘’Steve.’’

‘’I'm not going to forget this when I'm sober, I love you sober and not, Eds.’’

‘’Goooooood’’  Eddie smiled.

‘’Gooooooood’’

Eddie smiled and took Steve's hand, they got up and started, being careful not to step on anyone as they passed, because there were more and more kids who had fallen asleep on the floor, they avoided the trash and everything that their feet crossed. . Eddie felt like he could fly, everything around him felt liquid. They crossed the kitchen without letting go of their hands, when they reached the rooms they approached the first one to make sure they were not going to interrupt something, after a few seconds there they realized that it was empty, Steve took Eddie's hand and led them in. In the room, he made sure to lock the door, because they were being stupid to stay in a stranger's house but they weren't stupid enough to leave the door open.

Steve took off his sleeping clothes, leaving him in just his boxers, Eddie suddenly started to feel shy and froze when he tried to take off his shirt.

‘’Need help?’’

Eddie felt himself tremble for a few seconds, because he suddenly remembered those agonizing days in recovery after the Upside Down when he definitely needed help from Steve to be able to take off his clothes. He didn't know how, but he managed to shake his head, he decided to just take off his pants and leave his shirt on, suddenly he was feeling very aware of everything around him, every tone in the darkness, every flash of light that came through the curtains. closed, every bug that sounded outside, he felt his breathing labored, all that meant that he was very nervous.

Fortunately, Steve landed him, once he took him by the hand and led them to the bed, Steve surrounded Eddie with his body, as if he had to protect him, Eddie dropped his head on the other boy's chest, he used his heartbeat. of his heart that sounded loud against his ear to self-regulate.

To remind himself that he was okay, that he was loved. 

‘’Be my boyfriend, Stevie, can I be your boyfriend?’’ Eddie whispered in a sweet voice

Eddie felt Steve's heart race, and without seeing him he could feel him smiling.

‘’I accept, I will always accept being whatever you want me to be, Eddie.’’

Eddie gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep, that whole moment felt like the closure of that horrible time in which he was fighting to live in the arms of his now boyfriend, now it felt like a distant dream. Steve stroked his hair, stuck his fingers in his messy curls, tangled and untangled them between his fingers, and placed kisses wherever he could reach. Life felt that light when you were in the arms of the right person.

On the afternoon they were traveling in the taxi back to his house when Steve kissed him surprisingly, for the first time in all those years and said:

‘’I remember everything.’’

[ollieoliver910]

*In Regards To Wong Creating The New Avengers...*

Yeah, I'm done with Marvel. I'm tapping out. Any lasting hope I had, especially when it came to Doctor Strange. One of the last pre endgame characters left that is still popular and relevant is now completely gone.

Benedict Cumberbatch man...he was so fucking robbed of something more. It also doesn't help that he had acknowledged in a podcast that M.O.M. did not feel like HIS movie...which it wasn't...which is why it sucked major donkey balls. Trust me, you do not want to suck donkey balls, but I wouldn't doubt that the people at marvel are getting high writing this shit just by doing that.

I don't even know where to start because I was processing the "Wong will create the Avengers" information for a couple of days...So I think I will begin things with this.

STRANGE should have replaced STARK as the leader (or one of the leaders) of the avengers. Infinity War and Endgame almost hinted at the fact that this was going to be the case...AND THAT WOULD HAVE MADE SENSE FOR HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! Strange has problems working as a team, something that Tony himself had to overcome for almost ten years! The fact that they had this fantastic set up for Strange, especially when he is the exact opposite of Tony when it comes to his powers, and they didn't jump for it, like...ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? As a writer, this hurts me SO BADLY because it was the OBVIOUS thing to do! Even a high schooler who knew enough about the marvel cinematic universe would probably want Doctor Strange to go in that direction too! This isn't even a college level writing class thing, or a college class that trains you to pick apart every word from a book and analyze it. This is, simply, the most EASIST SHIT TO CONNECT. Even if you don't write for a living, you can just see and feel where they should have taken Doctor Strange and or the rest of the movies that followed Endgame. If it was me, I would have put Doctor Strange and Black Panther together as the next Iron Man and Cap dynamic, which again, with them being opposites (magic vs technology) would have worked so damn well! Sadly, because Chadwick Bosemen passed away, that will never come to be and with how bad the writing has become overtime. I don't think marvel would have the mental capacity to try to catch lightning in a bottle twice.

THIS, one top of my seething list of issues of how they disposed and misused Doctor Strange is why I am done with marvel, PERIOD. M.O.M wasn't even a Doctor Strange movie, it was a Wong and Wanda road trip movie that FORGOT they had set up something with Mordo and NEVER followed though on it. Plus, it didn't even feel like a Doctor Strange movie VISUALLY! That's what I loved about the OG movie. It was a trippy, surreal film with AMAZING effects that were also present in Infinity War, which to me, made that fight with Thanos my favorite scene in the movie.

In M.O.M, all that is GONE! Or is limited to a 10-20 second scene when Strange and Chevz travel to another dimension. I read a while back that Scott Derrickson wanted the second Doctor Strange film to be a horror movie, which sounds fucking awesome! But Disney was so against the idea that Derrickson left due to creative differences...and we got what we got instead...damn.

What makes everything a thousand times worse is the Wong pandering in every fricken film/tv show that comes out, and I used to like Wong! Mostly because in Infinity War and Endgame, he was robbed of any substantial screen time in those movies and I kind of felt bad for him because of that. Now, he has WAAAAY too much screen time, to the point where ALLEGEDLY, Wong might be the one creating the new avengers too...sigh...push an agenda.

Doctor Strange has only been demoted from Sorcerer Supreme once in the comics (I believe) in order to save the whole damn universe, but outside of that. Sorcerer Supreme IS his title. This is what makes him DOCTOR STRANGE, and to give that title to, essentially, your sidekick who does nothing other than berate your actions because your a straight white man is just like...FUCK. HOW DID WE GET HERE??? HOW???

I have no hope for Doctor Strange 3 if Marvel decides they are going to pursue it, why? Because there is no way a writer on that film can develop Strange and Clea's relationship within a single movie right before Cumberbatches contract is about to end. I literally guarantee you when Secret Wars is finally released. He will be one of the first ones to die. Without going too much into the comic itself, he was done justice there. With Secret Wars, his death will be agenda based, I would bet money on it.

So yeah, that's it. I'm done. I'll just sit behind my computer screen and continue to watch Disney burn. They already ruined all the other franchises they own, I guess pain is nothing but a flavor for them at this point...

Rant over.

Edit: Spider-Man: No Way Home is the last movie I felt Doctor Strange was phenomenal in. I wished they pushed the father/son dynamic with Strange and Peter so much more since Tony is no longer part of Peter's life...but don't worry. Marvel will revive everyone and none of this will matter in the end...barf...

[decolonize-the-left]

I am in the process of getting a new doctor. And by that I mean my insurance dropped my first one roughly a year ago so I made an appointment with my new primary who was also dropped before a second appointment. Then I had a new one but I then I accidentally double booked my kids therapy for the same day and didn't realize til we were already at her appointment so I rescheduled a new one.

These are 3-6 months apart btw. That's what the wait-list for a primary is like here for me.

Anyway so I have a new appointment in September and this whole time I haven't been working ofc cuz im in pain 24/7 and even when I had a job I'd be sent home cuz I'd just start sobbing in the break rooms or I'd be late cuz I had anxiety and didn't want to go, etc (long list, tldr: I'd be a bad employee if literally nothing else). Besides that I've never gotten passed the interview stage when I was looking for a job here.

So yeah. September is when I see my new doctor who probably won't open my file until I'm in his office.

Remember that.

I go to an appointment about my cash benefits a few days ago, now right? I've talked to these people on the phone, they know what's up with my situation. They said they'd waive the obligations for me, nbd. And every now and then you gotta renew them too, just making sure youre still poor, haven't moved, etc. So I go in think it's a formality thing and they just wanna make sure nothing changed.

Nope. Nobody took notes or filed anything so it just looks like I have been blowing off obligations I had for 6 months :)

All this to say fuck them for giving me 30 days to see a new doctor that I literally I can not see until September when it's literally out of my power to make it happen faster. And I'll be lucky if this new person is willing to sign off on a brand new patients disability forms too.

After 30 days thats half of our money they take until I get those forms signed.

This is life for those of us who are queer, poor, & disabled parents of color.

Lots of people have lots of stigmas about me. And that's creates certain beliefs around me, most often that it can't be that bad or that I'm even making up how bad it is.

I'm telling y'all it's that bad. When my benefits get cut it won't be because I wasn't trying, I already have an appointment.

I can't work. My gf's paychecks are getting garnished (this means debtors are taking money btw). We're both deeply mentally ill even if we can't prove our physical disabilities.

When I tell y'all that these benefits and your help is the only reason we eat after they run out, believe me.

This blog is my lifeline and it's just hits different after the last few days to open my asks and see some dipshit saying more classist shit to me even on tumblr

And I know that someone like me does not have a safe space. Never did. Probably never will. But this blog is my lifeline so can y'all just....not?

Can you just leave me alone instead of projecting your awful beliefs about everything I am into my asks, please?

You don't know me. Quit pretending you do to justify all the hatred you have.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Hard Habit to Break

Chapter 4

Pairing: EddieMunsonxOriginalCharacter

Summary: When a chance at the career he always wanted came knocking at the same time that she received the worst news of her life, they were forced apart. Long distance, time on the road, and stories in the tabloids destroyed anything they had left, leading him down a dark road, playing the role of the bad boy rockstar his manager wanted from him. Now tragedy will bring him back to the town he swore to never step foot in again and face to face with her for the first time in years. Will he be able to stick to the plan or will she be the one habit he can't break?

Word Count: 6.7K

Trigger Warnings: Cancer battle, death of a parent, grief, addiction

18+ Only

“Now, as for the casket…”

The funeral director’s voice was a buzzing in the back of her skull, annoying, a gnat she wanted to swat away, as she followed her father into the showroom. Were they serious? Showroom? Like they were strolling in to pick out a brand new Porchse for her mom to hop in. Send her driving off into the afterlife in style. 

A flash of Linda, her long dark locks flowing behind her as she sped down the highway, the Monkees blasting loudly from the speakers. That smile, like the sun breaking through the clouds, stretching her face wide. It all flashed before Tori’s eyes, creating a physical ache in her chest, her hand attempting to rub it away.

Lacy’s fingers slid into hers and she squeezed her little sister’s hand tightly, willing any strength she could muster to transfer from herself to her sister. The twenty-four year old had burst into the the house this afternoon with all the dramatic flair she possessed, flinging herself into Tori’s arms, sobbing into her shoulder for a full ten minutes before she could calm her down. The two sisters had clung to each other like a dinghy in the middle of the ocean, seeking the kind of comfort and solace only the two of them could provide each other in their shared grief. 

“So, what do you girls think?” her dad, Frank, asked, running his fingers along the smooth wood veneer of a mahogany casket, only bringing forth that ridiculous image of a sports car to mind once again. “I want your mom…” 

He stumbled on his words, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly against his throat, just another rip across her already ruined heart. Tori knew this was destroying him too. Maybe her parents hadn’t been able to make their marriage work but they’d always remained a team, ensuring the girls were surrounded by love, that they always had everything they needed. They’d stayed friends, never stopped caring for one another.

“I want Linda to have the best, even now. She…she deserves that,” he managed, a finger running under his eye. 

He looked so brokenhearted, the sparkle that usually showed in his eyes completely dimmed now in the tragedy that had befallen their family. There had been more than one time over the years when Tori had wondered if he regretted the divorce. Did her dad wish he could go back and do things differently? Did he wish he would have tried harder to make their marriage work? Did he spend his life wondering if he’d lost the one person that was meant for him? 

The way he looked at her mom, even years after their split, it was clear he thought the sun rose and set on her. But they’d never tried again, at least not as far as she knew. Honestly, she didn’t even know why they’d split up. Her mom just always said sometimes two people can love each other but it’s not enough. That was a sentiment that Tori understood quite well. 

Tori attempted a smile that came out as more of a grimace, her face incapable of showing anything less than the grief and complete horror she felt at even having to be here. How was she making these decisions for her mother who hadn’t even had the opportunity to reach the age of fifty? It was so unfair that someone who was so full of life only got to live half of it. 

And was this really the sum of it all? Standing in this creepily clean room that smelled of death, no matter how they tried to mask it with gag-inducing floral air fresheners and cleaning products, choosing caskets and flowers? Talking about how to celebrate her? How to celebrate what exactly? Her suffering that went on for years? Her fighting with everything she had only to lose the battle in the end? Her being taken long before her time? Were they really expected to celebrate this tremendous loss? The hole it had created in their family?

“That’s good, dad,” she told him, wanting to give him the smallest bit of solace she could even when she could find none for herself. “I think she’d like that one.”

The truth was, Linda wouldn’t care whether she was buried in some fancy mahogany box or a plain one made of pine. But she just couldn’t bring herself to burst her dad’s bubble, not when he was trying so hard to do anything he could. 

Her mom had made it very clear that she didn’t want any fuss made over her death. Her mom didn’t want them to spend ridiculous amounts of money, saying it wouldn’t matter because she’d already be gone and the funeral and everything that went along with it was for all of them. Not for her. It was their chance to say goodbye and find closure. Tori’s brain flashed back to that day, sitting next to her mom, her frail hand, the veins so prominent with all the weight she’d lost, resting on top of hers. 

“Now, don’t you go wasting all my life insurance on some big, ridiculous funeral. Do you hear me, Tori? You know your dad will want to do something big and crazy but don’t let him. You do what you and your sister need to do to say your goodbyes and move on but I don’t want anyone going overboard. I won’t be here to enjoy any of it anyway. It’s not really for me. I don’t need any of that money because I’ll be dead. That money is for you and Lacy to split, to spend as you wish, to live your lives.”

“I know, mom,” Tori replied with a nod, her finger tracing over the thin skin of her mom’s hand, saying whatever she had to so they could move on. She wanted to talk about anything else but this. She’d put this conversation off for as long as she could, evading and changing the subject whenever Linda tried to bring it up, but her mom had been insistent. The doctors were only giving her weeks now and they were quickly running out of time. 

“You know…” Linda said softly, turning their hands, her thumb running over Tori’s palm, “you could use some of that money to go on a trip. A vacation would do you good, especially after all the time you’ve spent cooped up in this damn hospital with me. You need some sun, my girl. You’re starting to look as sick as I do. I hear California is pretty nice this time of year.”

Tori rolled her eyes at her mom’s very obvious implication. Leave it to Linda to worry about her love life when she was lying on her deathbed. This was only about the ninety-eighth time she had tried to bring him up within the last few weeks. Once the doctors had informed her that it was nearing the end, it seemed like she had her mind set to ensure her daughter was happy. And she obviously felt that she knew what exactly would do that.

It was the subject that Tori never wanted to discuss, the one she’d declared off limits years ago because talking about him was just too damn hard. She had enough hard in her life. There was no need to add more. She pressed her lips together and shook her head because this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair for her mom to use her impending death to her advantage. She couldn’t yell at her mother or refuse her anything when she was on the verge of the end and Linda damn well knew it.

“Mom…”

Linda lifted her hand slowly, “I know. I know. You don’t like to talk about him but honey, we have to. I’ve followed all of your rules. I’ve respected your choices but I am running out of time and if we don’t talk about it now, we may never have a chance to. I can’t truly be at peace unless I know that you have found your happiness. We both know the only reason you didn’t follow that boy to California was because of me. And I am so grateful, sweetie, that you stayed. I am so thankful for all that you’ve done for me these past five years. You are the best daughter any mother could ask for. You’ve taken such good care of me when you should have been out living your life. You should have been making mistakes, having fun, being young. You’ve had to grow up far too fast. It wasn’t fair. You’re still so young and you put so much aside for me. But that particular obstacle will be out of your way in not too long here. I just don’t want you sitting around here, all alone, depressed and unhappy.”

Tori huffed, dragging her hand underneath her nose. “Sorry if my sadness is inappropriate to you. What should I be doing? Should I be laughing and dancing right now? She I be twirling in the wind, my hair billowing behind me, singing the hills are alive while my mom is laying here dying?”

“No. But I know you. Baby, I don’t want you to slip down some dark hole that you can’t climb out of. I don’t want you to keep putting your life on hold because of me. I have accepted my fate, sweet girl. It’s not fair and I wish I had more time. God, you have no idea how much I wish I could have more time. I want to see you and Lacy grow into the amazing women you are already becoming. I want to see you happy finally. I want to be there for everything life throws your way, the good and the bad. But that’s not the hand that life decided to deal me. And you know what, even for only getting forty-eight years, it’s been one hell of a ride. I couldn’t have asked for more. I’ve had more love and happiness in forty-eight years than some people get in one-hundred. I know what’s coming for me and Tori, I am honestly ready for it. I’ve fought the hard fight. I’ve fought so damn hard for so damn long and I am so tired, baby. I am ready to wave the white flag and the only thing I need before I go is to know that you’re going to be happy.”

“Mom, how can I promise you that? How can you expect me to be happy without you here? And what about Lacy?”

Linda tried to wave her hand in dismissal but it was barely a hover before it dropped back to the bed, “Oh please. That girl is going to be fine. She’s got you to lean on and you’re the strongest person I know. But I need you to remember something for me. She doesn’t need you to be her mother. She had one and yes, she’s going to lose me, but she’s grown now. She needs you to be her sister. Don’t go taking on more responsibility that’s not yours to take. And she…she’s Lacy. She goes where the wind blows her and she adapts as she needs to. She always has.”

Tori laughed, “Yeah. She’s definitely a free spirit. She wouldn’t think twice about packing up and starting over somewhere.”

“You can too, you know? You can sell this house and leave this town behind if you want. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I promise you that you are going to be okay. You take the time to grieve me but then you get up, wipe those years, and you go live your life. I need you to live, Tori. You’ve been living for me for far too long and now it’s time that you live for you.”

“Tori?”

She shook herself from the memory, running her hands over her face. Live for herself? She wasn’t sure she knew how anymore. Had she ever? She’d never had the opportunity. She’d been so young when all of this began. What would that even look like? When her dad said her name again, she looked up at him. 

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was simply asking if you had an outfit that you would like your mother to wear for her burial?” the director asked in an even tone, so professional for the grieving family. It was clearly meant to be soothing but it only grated her heart into shreds like a hard block of cheese against rough metal.

This shouldn’t be professional. It shouldn’t be calm and quiet. This wasn’t some peaceful summer day sitting on a picnic blanket under the sun, enjoying the tranquility as the water gently lapped at the sand. This was a raging storm, waves crashing relentlessly against rocks, pieces disintegrating into the mass of chaos. This was rain pounding down violently and washing away any traces of life from the beach, destroying sandcastles and obliterating footprints. How could any of them stand there so calmly as if the world wasn’t crashing down around them as they stood here talking about outfits?

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no. I honestly don’t know right now, not off the top of my head. But I can go through her clothes this afternoon and find something. I’m sure she had…I mean, my mom wears nice…well, she used to…before…I can drop something off tomorrow if that’s okay,” she stammered, the heels of her palms pressing against her burning eyelids. 

“That will be fine,” he assured her with a smile, his eyes darting down to the checklist he had on a clipboard. Of course. Death was just another thing to check off like cleaning the gutters or making your dentist appointment. Had to make sure you didn’t miss anything when someone was being erased from this existence. Make certain all traces were obliterated. “As for her jewelry, would you like us to remove it when we prepare her body or would you like her to wear it for the service? We can always remove it just prior to burial if you’d prefer. Many people choose that option so they can keep the jewelry as a keepsake for themselves or future children.”

Lacy glanced over at Tori, both girls at a loss, looking to each other to make the decision. There were just so many damn decisions to make and her head was spinning. She tried to think of the jewelry her mom usually wore. It wasn’t much anymore. Her rings wouldn’t stay on her fingers once she’d lost so much weight.

All she had on still was her necklace, the necklace her and Lacy had bought together for her the Christmas after she’d gotten her diagnosis. It was a silver phoenix, a symbol of her mother rising from the ashes, fighting back and defeating this ugly monster that was trying to invade her body and destroy her. A symbol that in the end had done nothing, meant nothing, because the monster had beaten her mother, beaten her down until her bones were brittle, her muscles atrophied, until there was nothing left but a shell lying in a cold storage room waiting to be pumped full of fluid that would preserve her just long enough for people to parade by and say how sorry they were. 

“Did…did you want the necklace?” Tori asked her sister.

Lacy shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks and running off her chin. “No. Mom should keep it. Don’t you think? I mean, we got it for her…to help her fight, you know? To help…” Her voice broke off and she looked to the side, a whoosh of air releasing from her lips, her body trembling as she fought to hold herself together. “No. She should keep it. It should stay with her.”

“Very good,” the director nodded, eyes flicking down again and Tori fought against the violent urge to snatch that clipboard from his hands and snap it in half. What would he do then? How could he complete the job of erasing her mother without his precious checklist? “Do you have a florist you wish to work with?”

This was never going to end. Her teeth worried over her bottom lip, the skin already torn from how much she’d been doing that over the past few weeks. Why hadn’t she talked to her mother about all of this before? Linda had wanted to but she just couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to face it. No matter how certain her death was, Tori had wanted to hold onto hope. Now there were hundreds of questions that she didn’t have the answers to. She should have known these things. She should have already planned all of this so her dad and her sister didn’t have to be standing here doing this.

“I…I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling like she did in sixth grade when Mrs. Bollin asked her if she read the instructions thoroughly before completing the project. “Should we already have found someone?”

“No, of course not,” the director told her. “Sometimes people have made arrangements prior to their death and sometimes they haven’t. Either way is fine. We can help you with all of that. We have vendors that work with us but we are always willing to work with whoever you would like. Do you know what kind of flowers you want?” At Tori’s panicked look, he quickly added, “Or perhaps just colors? We could always choose the flowers for you if you had certain colors you’d like. Did your mother have a favorite color?”

“Yellow. She loved yellow,” Frank answered when Tori just stood there, silent. His hand came to his daughter’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Summer was her favorite time of the year and she always said yellow reminded her of long summer days: freshly squeezed lemonade on the porch, honey bees, daffodils, the sun beating down on you from the clear blue sky.”

Tori’s eyes moved to her father’s face, the lines weathered in the crinkle of his eyes, the pain etched in the hardness of his mouth. He still remembered so much about her mom, about their past together. She leaned into him and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Excellent, sir. The florist we work with will be able to come up with beautiful arrangements for you. We can have one from her two daughters, one from her husband, and…”

“Ex…” Frank rasped, pulling at his collar uncomfortably as Tori straightened. He’d never gotten used to that term. Just a few months ago at the hospital he’d referred to Linda as his wife. Her mom had corrected him and he’d looked shattered, as if their divorce had happened a month ago instead of fifteen years ago. “I’m her ex husband.”

“Okay. Understood. Would you still like an arrangement put together from you?”

“Yes, yes. That would be fine,” he nodded jerkily.

“Alright and then we can have an arrangement from her children as well,” the director continued. “We can place them on either side of the casket with shelving set up around it for the other arrangements you receive from friends and family. Would you like a spray as well?”

“A what?” asked Tori. Why were there so many options? The person was gone. It shouldn’t be this complicated to leave the world. It was already complicated enough just to live in it. Leaving it should be peaceful and easy. 

“A spray,” he explained. “It’s a lovely arrangement that drapes over the top of the casket. Would you like me to show you some examples so you can decide if you would like one?”

“No. That’s okay. I mean, that’s fine. We’ll do a…spray,” Tori mumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle, trying to keep herself together, to keep her parts where they belonged instead of splattered all over the carpet of this depressing place.

“Also, you are welcome to create picture boards if you’d like. It’s a way to celebrate the time you had together. It’s always nice to see images of your loved one during all the times that you shared together,” he said with a smile, as if anything about this occasion was worth smiling about. As if Tori could focus on anything other than the fact that her mother was gone. “You are having a short showing here on Friday morning and then directly to Hawkins Presbyterian for the service, is that correct?”

“Yes,” Frank replied, his arm coming around Tori’s shoulders, squeezing her into his side, sensing that his daughter was coming apart at the seams and trying to take charge. Something he did not often do as he was probably the most emotionally fragile of all of them. She sunk into him, allowing him to hold her up, relieved to let someone else carry the weight for just a minute. 

“And do you have anyone who would like to speak at the service or do a reading?”

Frank glanced at each of his daughters and they both shook their heads. Tori couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a church full of people, sharing her grief with all of them. What could she possibly say that would begin to encapsulate the loss that was Linda Rhodes from this world? No, she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak even if she had something prepared.

“Perhaps consider it. We can always add that in later,” the director told them. “Pallbearers?”

“Oh. Well, that would be myself, Linda’s brother Paul, and then some of my girls’ friends. Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington. Is that enough?”

“We may need two more, sir, as the casket is rather cumbersome but we can have staff step in if need be. You already have a burial plot and we have submitted the necessary paperwork for her internment. So, I believe all we have left is getting the obituary written.”

He smiled again and Tori somehow resisted the urge to slap it off his face as he waved his arm forward and they followed him back to office. Did he just call her mother cumbersome? Did they need more people? What if they dropped her? Jesus Christ. Tori couldn’t handle that. Maybe she could ask Will and Jonathan to help too. She released a large sigh as she dropped into a chair in the office. Now they just had to write the ending to her mother’s story. 

___________________________________________________________

A hand dropped onto Eddie’s bouncing leg, “Dude, you have got to calm down. You’re making me anxious.”

His eyes settled on his best friend. Gareth had insisted on coming along on this trip even though he’d assured him that he would be fine on his own. But, secretly, he was grateful because he’d been lying through his damn teeth when he said it. He was going to say goodbye to the only mother he’d ever known and facing the one person who could send his world crashing down by merely existing. He probably needed his friend by his side to keep him steady. 

With an audible sigh, he turned his gaze to the window, looking out at the expanse of clouds. Nothing could be seen but a sea of white below them as they flew toward Hawkins. Well, to be more accurate, Indianapolis. Hawkins wasn’t anywhere near big enough for an airport. A car would meet them when the plane landed to drive them into town. Two more hours and he would once again be in the town he hadn’t stepped foot in for over four years, the town he swore he would never step foot in again. 

And yeah, Tori was the biggest reason for that because Eddie knew he wouldn’t be able to see her without coming undone. He wouldn’t be able to look into those eyes, the blue of fire when it blazed hottest, without losing himself to the darkness all over again. But she wasn’t the only reason he had no intention of going back.

He’d swore he would never go back to that place, full of people who had judged him and treated him like wadded up gum on the bottom of their shoe for his whole life. He’d swore he would get out and that, when he did, he would never look back. Fuck Hawkins. Fuck those small minded idiots and all their bullshit. 

That town had made his life hell. The only bright lights had been his band, Hellfire, his uncle, and her. He was only happy when he was with his friends, in the trailer with his uncle, or cocooned in the safety of her house. Her mom would have Abba blasting through the speakers as she danced around the kitchen, making them dinner, and then would slaughter them in a game of Uno. It was one of the few places where he felt accepted, felt like someone actually cared about him, believed him, saw him as something worthwhile. 

“It’s not my fault if you’re anxious. I told you that you didn’t have to come,” he grumbled at Gareth, slumping down his seat, arms folded over his chest, looking every bit the petulant toddler.

“And I told you, yes I do,” Gareth argued right back. “Look, it’s not just about you, okay? You’re not the only one who needs to say goodbye or pay respects to a woman who was so good to us. You’re not the only one who loves Tori and wants to show up for her. I love her too, you know. I want her to know that. I want to be there for her. She wasn’t just important to you, Eddie. When you started dating her, she became a part of all of us and you’re not the only one who lost her.”

“I know,” he groaned, leg nervously jiggling once again. He did know. The guys loved her, not as much as he had. Nobody in this universe could love her as much as he had but pretty damn close. She’d become such a big part of his life, and in turn, she had become a big part of theirs. She sat through campaigns, practices, and more shows than he could count. Tori never missed a chance to watch them play. They’d all spent endless hours together. “I know you do. I just…this is going to be complicated enough as it is. I don’t want to overwhelm her with an onslaught of people she never thought she’d see again.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking. That he didn’t want to overwhelm her with people she may never want to see again. It was going to be bad enough when she caught sight of him, let alone Gareth. Thank God he’d been able to convince Jeff and Matt to stay behind, assuring them that he would pass along their condolences. He didn’t think she could handle her entire past showing up to slap her in the face right now. A reminder of everything she didn’t want anymore, everything she’d walked away from, delivered right on her doorstep at the worst moment of her life.

“Eddie, I am pretty sure aftering seeing you, everything else will feel like cake for her,” Gareth chortled. “I mean, come on. Tori is not going to care less about my being there. She loves me, man. I wasn’t the one who…well, let’s just be honest. You’re going to be the one to overwhelm her and that would happen whether I showed up with you or not. She doesn’t even know you’re coming, does she?” “I don’t think so,” he admitted, picking at his cuticles nervously, his teeth scraping at his bottom lip once again. “Henderson probably won’t tell her. He won’t want to give her the option to tell him no. He believes in just doing what he thinks is right and asking for forgiveness later. You know what a meddling little shit he is. And he’s never given up hope, you know? Living in some fantasy world where things can still…he needs to get over it. He doesn’t talk about her with me but he drops enough hints without actually saying it. So cocky, always thinking he knows what’s best for everyone.”

Gareth snorted, “Yeah. He’s annoying as shit but he means well. I don’t know if surprising her with you is a good idea, but hey, we’ll find out in a few hours, won’t we?”

“Yeah. About that…Henderson said that she was doing all the funeral home shit with her dad and Lacy today. I don’t know if I should surprise her today. She’s probably going to be exhausted after all of that and the last thing she’s going to need is another shock to her system. Maybe we should just head to my uncle’s and then go over there tomorrow, you know? Give her some time before we spring…well, me, on her?” Eddie paused, his hand running down his face with a loud groan. He hated this so much. He hated that she might not want him there. He hated that seeing her was so complicated when it used to be as easy as breathing. “Shit, man. What in the hell am I even doing right now? Maybe I should have just listened to you all and kept my ass in California. She is going to be so pissed off when she sees me.”

“She isn’t going to be pissed off,” Gareth said, shaking his head. “Surprised? Absolutely. Shocked? Definitely. Probably a little sad, too. But I really don’t think she’s going to be pissed that you came. It’s not like the two of you had some knock down, drag out fight and things ended badly with you two hating each other.”

“Well, it's not like things ended well, either,” Eddie shot back. “She kept seeing all those damn tabloid photos and I think she thought I was cheating on her. Fucking Gary and his stupid ideas, wanting me to be this hardcore rock and roll playboy.”

“I mean, it worked though,” shrugged Gareth. “They wanted you to be the next Steven Tyler or Mick Jagger. The guys want to be you and the women want to fuck you. Gary may have been an asshole but he was a smart publicist.”

“Gary can fuck right off. He ruined my goddamn life. She said she couldn’t handle it anymore. Between wondering who I was with and going months without talking, it was just too much for her to handle. And then I swore I was going to show up for her birthday party but that interview came up at the last minute and I forgot to even call and tell her. She hasn’t spoken to me in years, Gare. She wouldn’t even take my calls. Her mom or Lacy always had some excuse ready, claiming she wasn’t home. You know that shit wasn’t true. She barely left Linda’s side once she was sick besides going to work at the library. After a while, I just stopped trying because it was clear she had no interest in even speaking to me.”

For months after that last phone call, the call when she ended things for good, he’d tried. Eddie had been desperate, a man clinging to a life raft, needing to get her to change her mind. He knew things were hard at the moment but he had to believe they wouldn’t always be. He had to believe that things could get better because he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it. 

He’d always believe they were meant to be. One day she would move out to L.A. with him and they would live in that massive house he’d always promised her with the infinity pool and the view of the mountains. But she wouldn’t even pick up the damn phone. Linda would say she was out with Robin. Lacy would say she was sleeping. Frank would tell him that she was at the movies with Nancy. It was all bullshit. He knew it. There was no way she was never there, never available, no matter what time of day or night he called. 

Tori had been avoiding him. It was as simple as that. She was letting him know that she was done with him and he had to accept it whether he wanted to or not. She hadn’t given him any choice in the matter. She’d made the decision for both of them and he had to live with it. 

What killed him, what he could never get past, was how easy it had been for her to end it, to walk away as if none of it had ever meant anything to her. As if all the plans they made had been some kind of joke to her. As if almost eight years were nothing but a blip in her life. How could she do that? 

It hadn’t been that easy for him. He’d spiraled down into a deep, dark pit of despair that he almost didn’t claw his way out of. He’d dove into the rockstar lifestyle, becoming exactly who she’d been scared he was. If that’s what she thought of him then that’s what he’d become. He allowed it to consume him, to fill all those jagged crevices she’d left inside him, trying to drown his sorrows in coke, alcohol, and sex that meant absolutely nothing to him. 

It had been ugly. The band had almost crashed and burned right along with him, everything they’d worked so hard for going up in one fiery explosion that had been Eddie’s failure to cope. If it hadn’t been for Gareth and Arty kicking his ass, forcing him to go to rehab, sitting by his side the entire time, he honestly might not be sitting on this plane right now. 

He’d been clean for two years now but it had been an uphill battle, one he was constantly fighting to maintain in a world that was full of nothing but excess and people more than willing to get you whatever you wanted whenever you wanted it. That was why he had to keep his senses about him on this trip, to remind himself that he was just here to pay his respects to a woman who’d meant the world to him. He was here to be a friend, to honor the relationship they’d once had, offer his sympathies, and then he was gone again. Out of her life, the way she wanted him to be. He couldn’t allow himself to hope, no matter what Henderson said. Hope was a precarious slope, one he couldn’t allow himself to fall down.

“Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know,” Gareth nodded, fingers tapping against the armrest, clearly taking his own trek down the dark, winding memory lane that was Eddie’s addiction. “I was right there watching you lose your mind when she wouldn’t take your calls. I was right there while you fell apart, doing anything to forget the pain. But Eds, you know as well as I do that Tori wasn’t wrong. Your relationship was not working. There was no way it was going to work when you had to be two thousand miles apart.”

“You don’t know that,” he argued, unable to say the words even when he knew his friend was right. Tori had tried to end things before he left but he’d begged her to try, lying to himself, convincing himself that they would be okay, that they were strong enough to make it. They were meant to be. Nothing could come between them. Clearly, he’d been wrong. He’d forced her into something she’d never wanted to do in the first place and he’d more than paid the price for it. 

“I do, man, and so do you. You tried. The shit she was dealing with was heavy. It was crushing her and trying to juggle you on top of it, it was just too much. It was that last bit that was going to bury her until she couldn’t breathe. And then the distance, the shit she’d read in magazines, never knowing what to believe or not, not being able to depend on you when she needed someone to lean on. I mean, I’m not saying it was anyone’s fault here but you can’t blame her. I think it was the only way for her to survive at the time.”

“I don’t blame her,” snapped Eddie, wishing like hell he wasn’t stuck on this goddamn plane. He needed a cigarette, he needed space, he needed some fucking air. He needed to get the hell out of this conversation. “I don’t, okay? I’m not angry at her. I mean, I was at first. God, I was so fucking pissed at her. I felt like she had just lied to me all that time. That she never loved me because if she did, if she loved me even a fraction of the way I loved her, how could she just cut me off? How was she not completely losing her mind like I was?”

“You don’t know that she wasn’t,” reasoned Gareth. “You weren’t there, Eddie. You aren’t there.”

“I know I’m not. I know I wasn’t…but I want to be. I mean, I want to be there for her right now. I used to be that person for her. I used to be the one she’d call, the one she’d run to when shit hit the fan. When her mom got diagnosed, she ran straight to me. When her dad got offered that job in Texas and she was scared he was going to take it, she ran to me. When Billy started harassing her at school, she ran to me. Her mom just died and she didn’t even call to tell me. The only reason I even knew how Linda was doing was because of Dustin. The only reason I knew she passed was because of Robin. I…I just want to be there for her like I used to be. I want to but I don’t even know how anymore. Hell, I have no idea what I’m even doing right now.”

Gareth laughed, his head rolling over the headrest to look at Eddie, “That’s pretty obvious. Look, just be a friend to her, okay? Don’t pressure

her. Don’t be all dramatic. Just pay your respects. Don’t make it weird. Try to be normal. Try not to be…well, you.”

“And just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means. Don’t be over the top, okay? I know that’s hard for you but try. You’re not here to be her boyfriend. She didn’t call you because you’re not that person for her anymore. You’re just here as an old friend who wants to offer their sympathies. You’re here as someone who cared about her and cared about her mom. You’re here to pay your respects, say your own goodbyes, and be supportive. Don’t go all dramatic on her, alright? She’s got enough shit on her plate without you throwing yourself all over her and acting like an idiot.”

“I’m not gonna throw myself all over her. Jesus Christ, Gareth, give me some credit. I’m not some fifteen year old kid who can’t control his hormones.”

Gareth just stared at him for a beat, “Uh-huh…sure you’re not. Look, I know you loved her. I know you thought she was the one but it’s been four years, man. You don’t even know her anymore. She’s lived an entire life without you in it. All this shit with her mom has to have altered her. She may not even be the girl we knew anymore.”

“She’s still Tori,” he grumbled stubbornly, refusing to believe that she could be anything but the girl he’d loved for so long. “There’s no way the girl I met when she was sixteen, the girl who left me at twenty-four, is that different from the woman she is now at twenty-eight.”

“Maybe not but she’s grieving, man. The last thing she needs is you making shit any heavier than it already is. Just be cool, okay? No jumping on furniture to make grand proclamations or word vomiting all your thoughts all over her. Just be…cool.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I can be cool. I’m like the king of cool. Just read any of the articles written about us. I am the coolest,” huffed Eddie, crossing his arms, turning his head toward the window as they began to land, feeling anything but cool.

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I am forever trying to better my writing so feedback is always welcome and reblogs are always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. And if you do, please make sure your age is on your profile. I will not add if it's not. Next chapter will be posted on 06/19.

Taglist: @browneyes528@chevelle724@tlclick73@transparentenemypenguin@missmarch-99 @madaboutjoe

[citylighten]

Hello it's me and I'm in your "Asks" ☺️

What/who made you come to simblr and what/who made you stay?

Hello!! I'm pretty sure when I came to simblr I had no idea who to follow beyond cc makers, specifically @ebonixsims & @xxblacksims. My simblr account was born due to the fact I had purchased TS4 for the first time and I wanted to make a cute bedroom for Eve, as I was procrastinating on cleaning and decorating my own bedroom. That was it! That was literally it! 😂

So I was just following random simblr blogs, and eventually I saw the storytelling community due to a reblog or something. I thought it was so interesting, because like everybody else when I played the sims I constructed a narrative in my head and to see people took their narratives seriously I thought, "okay, I want to try that too."

Also, in my childhood I loved to play games like Disney's Magic Artist Cartoon Maker where you just placed 2D stickers of Mickey Mouse and friends on a background, so I'm not surprised storytelling became the thing I felt the most passionate about. 😂

What made me stay were two things. The first was the stories I found by other people and the second thing is the bonds I formed with them, once I got out of my shy state, that is.

Although I had read a hand few of stories, @rebouks definitely had the first story that stuck out to me. Both in terms of narrative and visuals! @cinamun's story was the second story I became full-heartedly obsessed with. I saw a handful of posts back when Hope was a kid, and like...the characterization was so strong with Indya, Darren, and Lil' Hope that eventually I got curious about who they actually were and read the story from the beginning. And let me say reading Things Fall Apart from start to finish was the most inspiring thing as a new storyteller who didn't have editing skills that were exactly good. Because cin's editing was n o t h i n g like it is now and with each past post I read, I saw how she experimented with new things, slightly tweaked Indya's appearance over the years. But more than that, I noticed how her story grew in terms of readers. TFA did not always get a lot of notes. It was truly a, "okay, if Cin can progress like this, I can too. If Cin can grow like this, I can too." But yeah, rebouks and cinamun are absolutely my biggest inspirations with visuals and editing. And the fact they're both very sociable people when you message them was also encouraging, because there wasn't a sense of elitism that you can find in other fandoms spaces. This made me feel welcomed and like I wasn't a pest.

After that, I read more stories which led to me creating really strong friendships! Like, Hungry for Love by the user formally known as shanisims always stands out to me. That was another story I loved and obsessed over lmao I said it recently but @straightouttasimulation is a reason why I add prose to my story caps and she's even the reason why I attempted to do gifs. Because SHE started experimenting with gifs first! And then to see how she could pull them off, I thought: "okay, let me give it a try." All and all, she's a great mutual. I love her dearly. Then I met @digital-deluxe who shared my love for the mafia genre, and shortly after I think I began talking to @ardeney-sims. Tags led me to meet @swiftviolets who was also into the mafia genre and of course, @havenroyals and I started clicking a lot! And there's so many more people I love and cherish that I'm mutuals with [but I don't wanna like, tag everyone] BUT THE POINT IS I don't think I would be excited to log onto my dashboard if it weren't for the people I talk and joke around with. Even though it's good to try and like...be there for everybody in a community because people can feel overshadowed or neglected, communities are really about the people you vibe with the most because they're the ones who directly impact your experience.

[cosmicwafflemam]

Turbo.

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[fabcreature]

me: *desperately needs praise for the work i do or i will shatter from the heartache*

also me: *at least once a month cries and shatters from the heartache bc i'm convinced every single bit of praise i ever get is either a lie just to be nice, or misguided bc they don't realize i'm a fraud*

[noxtivagus]

i'll read more from now on again

[knaveofmogadore]

Hang..

[emiko-matsui]

Here's what you missed from the ScreenRant+ interviews with the Fantasy High: Junior Year cast

The reason Gorgug and Zelda broke up was a natural drifting apart. There were no animosity or harsh feelings, but Zac felt it unnatural for them to stay together for such a long time and still be true to the characters

The reason Cassandra's name is found in ancient stones and writings even though Ally was asked to make it up in Sophomore Year is because it wasn't Kristen choosing a name, it was Ally choosing the name that came to Kristen in a holy revelation of remembering a forgotten name

Ayda Aguefort wasn't removed from the season because she was too powerful to have around, but rather that Brennan genuinely felt a natural follow to her arc was to spend time creating a family bond with Arthur

All of the cast are clear with the fact that Senior Year is not being discussed at the current moment and is something that would be far in the future, but all of the cast are also excited to return to Senior Year and Brennan has plans for what he wants to expand on and plot threads in Senior Year. Additionally, Brennan said he left Sandra Lynn and her relationship to Bobby Dawn unresolved because he rather wanted to leave that storyline for a Senior Year.

Ally considers Gertie's action of immediately declaring Kristen as her nemesis after realising Kristen didn't want to be with her forever after kissing her once was Kristen "getting a taste of her own medicine" and finally being on the end of the insane chaos she's been dealing out to NPCs for years.

Emily was the one who came up with Fig taking on Gilear's bad luck/curse and she was inspired to do it by Fabian's delevelling in Sophomore Year.

After being pitched the headcanon that the adventuring party Goldenhoard was talking to in the first freshman year episodes was The Rat Grinders Brennan liked it so much he, on the spot, retconned it into canon

The cast thinks the four dogs joke is even funnier because they know Ally's mom is a dog breeder

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead

What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 

Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.

Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky

Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne

Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗

These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️

New Tricks Masterlist

I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 

“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  

Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 

The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 

Excellent, you inwardly sigh.

“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 

Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 

Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”

His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 

No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 

“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 

The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 

“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 

You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 

Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 

“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 

Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 

You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.

Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”

Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 

“What the shit–“ 

The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 

In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 

Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 

The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”

“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”

“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  

The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 

And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 

Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 

“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”

Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 

“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 

It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 

You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 

You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“

“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 

Had he been listening that whole time? 

Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”

Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 

The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”

His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  

With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  

“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”

The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”

Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 

You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”

With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 

Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 

Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 

With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”

Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  

Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”

You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  

“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 

The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”

You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 

Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 

The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 

“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”

You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”

“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 

Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”

“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 

A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  

The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 

Though, it is short lived. 

Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 

A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 

“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 

You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 

“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”

A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 

His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 

“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”

The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 

Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 

You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”

The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 

Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.

“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”

“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  

Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 

This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 

Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 

“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 

“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”

“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 

“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.

The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.

“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.

Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  

That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 

“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 

You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 

“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 

The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 

Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 

Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”

“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 

You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”

Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  

Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”

“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 

He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 

“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  

“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”

His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 

There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 

Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  

Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 

“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”

“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”

“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”

A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”

“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 

Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 

Okay, you think privately, so what? 

Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 

If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”

“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”

Now that catches you off guard. 

Bucky… is a virgin? 

Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 

Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 

“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”

No other words come to mind. 

When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 

You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 

The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 

Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 

It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 

From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 

Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 

What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?

To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 

Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 

“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  

The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 

You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”

“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”

Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 

“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 

You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”

He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“

“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”

“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.

“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”

You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.

“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”

“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 

Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 

This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 

You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.

He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”

“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 

That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 

There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 

Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 

“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.

There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 

“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.

Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”

The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 

Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  

“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 

Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.

“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  

You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.

“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 

A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 

Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  

The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 

But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 

The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 

Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 

You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 

It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 

And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 

To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  

Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 

You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.

The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 

You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 

Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 

It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”

Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”

Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”

Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.

“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 

You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 

The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 

The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.

Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  

“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”

“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”

You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”

The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 

“Wha– Fuck!”

You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 

The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.

Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 

You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 

Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.

Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 

You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 

“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”

Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 

You can’t have that, though. 

Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 

It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 

You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 

Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 

“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  

You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 

The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”

Something snaps within him. 

The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 

To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”

A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 

“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”

“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 

“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”

The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 

The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”

Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 

After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”

“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 

Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”

“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.

The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”

Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”

“But–” Bucky tries. 

“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”

His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”

“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”

The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 

It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”

You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 

And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 

You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.

“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 

You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 

“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 

“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”

But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 

That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 

You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”

Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 

With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”

The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 

“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”

“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”

You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”

The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”

A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 

“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 

That meant only one person was responsible. 

Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  

Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 

I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 

Love ya squirt, 

Your big bro.

“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.

P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 

Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 

“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”

Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 

Part Two, Part Three

[moonchild1]

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬  DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it? 

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and  you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money. 

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need. 

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man. 

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

 ↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library