#this is going to make me (who has been here nearly a decade; never blocked a single ad & has thought about buying merch and/or checkmarks

[fingertipsmp3]

Oh fuck I have the update

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST

[scoonsalicious]

10.4 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, brief mentions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 3.6k

Previously On...: Bucky ran to Lily for comfort after running out on you. Despite her best efforts, Bucky realized he done fucked up, A-aron.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Everything but this and all of you is shit right now, lol.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

After Bucky had stormed out of The WarZone that evening, you had tried to call him. Dozens of times. At first, he’d declined the calls, but soon, they went straight to voicemail, and you knew he had turned off his phone. Either that, or he’d blocked you. 

You knew he would be upset when he saw the contents of that envelope, but for him to make those accusations of you, and then to run away without even giving you an opportunity to speak or explain yourself? To say you were pissed off would be an understatement. So, you did the one thing that came to your mind as a way of dealing with the pain and frustration you were feeling: you went home and drank.

You’d been obsessively staring at her phone screen as you put back glass after glass of wine, willing Bucky to call you and apologize, to text asking for your side of the story, for anything, really, but after hours of his silence, you finally had enough and composed a single message to him:

>> When you’re done with your temper tantrum and want to talk like a grown up, you know where to find me.

Probably not the most mature thing you could have done, but you had been drinking, after all. Besides, it’s not like it had mattered; he’d never answered, anyway. You’d probably never hear from him again. That thought, amplified by the alcohol, had sent you down a dark tunnel of tears and ugly sobs. You honestly couldn’t remember ever crying this much over a man– not even when you’d found out about Connor’s affair, and you’d been married for nearly a decade; no, that had felt more like a relief, like finally having an answer to a question that had been stumping you for ages. But now, here you were, a blubbering mess over a man you hadn’t even known for a full week. 

You weren’t sure what hurt the most about it: the fact that he thought you went looking for that information, the words he’d said to you, or the way he ran out without even hearing your side of things. You didn’t even have the bandwidth to consider the betrayal of him going through your private papers.

There had just been so much potential with Bucky. So much promise. It could have been something beautiful and amazing, and now, it was over before it had even had a chance to really begin. And that just made you sad. Sad, and lonely. Maybe you’d finally get yourself a cat. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea. Perhaps it was finally time to embrace your destiny as a spinster cat lady, just like your mother had always threatened since your divorce. Why fight the inevitable?

A soft knock at your door took you out of your depression spiral. You quickly glanced at your clock– 10:45 pm. Far too late for a social call. Most likely, your nextdoor neighbor, Jeremy, had locked himself out of his apartment and wanted to hang out at yours until maintenance came by with the master key, again. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you made a move to stand, but the alcohol sent a wave of dizziness through your system and you almost fell stumbling back down to the couch. This time, you moved more slowly, holding on to furniture for support as you shuffled toward the front door. When you made it about half way, you heard a voice from the hallway that definitely did not belong to Jeremy. You froze.

“Sugar? Are you there? Will you open up, please?” 

Shit. What the fuck was Bucky doing here? You couldn’t possibly talk to him right now– your face was an absolute mess from crying and you were still so drunk. And what if he was still angry? 

You considered your next course of action. Opening the door was a no go– any conversation could only end in disaster. For the same reason, you couldn’t try to talk to him through the door. Knowing the effect he had on you, it would probably only be a few minutes before you were letting him in, begging him to fuck you. No, the best thing to do would be to retreat to your bedroom and hide until he went away. Maybe he would just assume you weren’t home.

Yes, that was the way to do it. To your wine-soaked brain, this seemed entirely logical.  You turned to head back into your bedroom, but you missed-stepped and banged your shin into one of your end tables.

“Fuck,” you hissed in pain, trying to keep your voice down as you rubbed what would no doubt become a spectacular bruise.

“Doll?” Bucky called from the hallway. “I know you’re in there. I just heard you. Please let me in. I just want to talk to you.”

Damn it. 

Without another thought, you hightailed it back into your bedroom, throwing yourself under the covers. Just hearing the sound of his voice through the door brought back the memory of his tirade from earlier in the day, and the words he’d spoken to you:

“You wanna know how many people I killed that didn’t make it into those files, because I promise you, sugar, there’s a hell of a lot. You want to know about the time Hydra sent me to kill an ambassador, told me to leave no witnesses, and I took out his wife and his two kids, too? ‘Cause they couldn’t have been more than ten years old. That kind of thing get you off, doll?”

The rage in his voice had been palpable, and if you were being honest, it had scared you. Not the rage, itself. You knew he was capable of it. No, what had frightened you was how quickly he had turned that rage on to you.

The thought brought a fresh wave of tears, and before you knew it, you were crying yourself into a fitful, restless slumber.

*

There was an incessant pounding coming from the living room that echoed the pounding in your skull. Moaning, you rolled over and picked up your phone to glance at the time. 1:47am. The pounding persisted, and it took your now hungover brain a moment to realize someone was knocking on your front door. 

With a groan, you shoved your head under your pillow, hoping whoever was there would go the fuck away and leave you to die in peace. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N), it’s the NYPD; please open your door.” Well. That got your attention. Sitting bolt upright, you jumped out of bed and nearly tripped trying to get to the door in a hurry. 

You checked the peep hole, making sure it actually was one of New York’s finest, and opened the door. 

“Can I help you, officer?” you asked, leaning against the door frame.

The officer gave you the once over and smirked, and it was then you remembered you’d chosen a pair of boyshort panties and an off-the shoulder cropped Army t-shirt for your pajamas that night. With a scowl, you crossed your arms over  your chest. 

“Are you “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” the officer asked, obviously amused by your discomfort. 

“I am,” you nodded. “What is this about?”

“Do you know this man?” the officer stepped aside, revealing Bucky, who was standing sheepishly off to the side of the door where you hadn’t been able to see him at first.

“Hey, doll,” he said with a shameful half smile and small wave.

“One of your neighbors found him sleeping against your door and called us. He claims he’s your boyfriend and he was just waiting for you to let him in. Since he’s an Avenger, I figured I’d give him a chance to prove his story before I booked him for trespassing.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. You were far too hungover to be dealing with this right now. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you clarified, and you didn’t miss Bucky’s face falling at your words. “But we are dating.” You stood back from the doorframe, making some space. “Come inside,” you told him with an exasperated sigh.

Bucky gave the officer an “I told you so” smirk and shoulder checked him before going inside your condo. You rolled your eyes at the childish display of machismo. You thanked the officer and moved to close the door, but he put a hand out, preventing you from closing it.

“Are you going to be safe if I leave you alone with him?” he asked you in a low voice, all trace of his earlier smirk gone. “Do you have any reason to fear for your life?”

You couldn’t help it– you snorted in laughter. “God, no,” you said. Yes, Bucky’s anger had frightened you, but you couldn’t believe he would ever go so far as to actually hurt you. He just wasn’t that kind of man, right? “I promise you, officer, I’m perfectly safe with Mr. Barnes. I mean, he’s an Avenger.”

The officer nodded. “Just making sure, miss. My partner and I will stay in the area; if there’s any trouble, call 911 and we’ll be nearby.” You thanked him for his concern, but assured him it wouldn’t be needed. He tipped his cap to you and headed for the elevator. 

You closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. You needed to get some liquid in you. Immediately. 

Without sparing a glance at Bucky, who was standing by your coffee table, studiously avoiding looking at you,  you made your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.

“Boyfriend, huh?” you said eventually, keeping your back to him as you ran the glass under your refrigerator’s water dispenser.

“Yeah… I wasn’t sure what to say to him to get him to let me stay,” he said, and his voice was closer now; you could tell he’d followed you to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” you asked. You took a couple of sips from your glass before finally turning to face him. He looked… rough. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled, and his eyes were red-rimmed, as though he, too, had spent some of the last several hours crying. 

Bucky swallowed thickly. “I came to apologize if you’ll let me,” he said, looking intently at your face. “Shit, sugar– have you been crying? Did I– fuck– I made you cry, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, doll.”

You let out a short bark of a laugh. Part of you wanted to throw your arms around him, bury your face into his shoulder, and never let him go, but what he had said to you earlier in the day was… well, it was horrendous and uncalled for, and you couldn’t, out of respect for yourself, just let it slide without some kind of explanation, and some real groveling.

“Explain yourself,” you said shortly, crossing your arms over your chest once again, as though putting a physical barrier between the two of you. 

Bucky swallowed and moved back toward your living room and began to pace. You followed, keeping a decent amount of distance between the two of you.

“I freaked out when I saw what was in that envelope,” he said. “As you no doubt know by now, I did a lot of shit, back when Hydra had me, that I’m not proud of. I’m… well, I guess you could say ‘sensitive about it’ would be an understatement. I carry a lot of guilt for what they made me do, and a lot of shame. Ever since I…” he paused, mulling over his word choice, “came back to myself, for good, I’ve been trying to make amends for all the harm I caused. To make things right. I know I can never erase all the pain I inflicted, bring back the people I killed, but I try to… to make things better. Where I can.”

He slumped down into one of your armchairs, a look of defeat crossing his handsome features. “It’s never going to be enough,” he sighed. “I know that. There are always going to be people who look at me, and only see the Soldier. No matter what I do, how much I atone, or how many lives I save, they’ll never see Bucky Barnes.”

“I told you from the beginning, Bucky,” you said, leaning against the wall that divided the living room from the kitchen, “it was obvious to me that you were blameless. A victim. And so, for you to accuse me of getting off on—”

“I know, sugar,” Bucky interrupted. He was looking up at you with sorrowful eyes. “I never should have accused you of that; I was an ass. I was…” he averted his eyes, embarrassed to admit this next part to you. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid.” You rolled the word around on your tongue. “Bucky, you’re a super soldier. A fucking Avenger. What the hell do you have to be afraid of?”

“I was afraid that if you saw the real me, what I had done, you’d run screaming in the other direction,” he admitted without looking back at you. “Or, that the only reason a dame like you could be interested in a guy like me was because you were attracted to the darkness. To the monster. That it wasn’t actually me you were into, but the Soldier.” He finally looked up at you in time to see the puzzled look you gave him.

“It happened before,” he said, voice low and shamed. “There was this girl– her name was Jessica– and I thought I was in love with her, you know? Thought maybe I’d finally found my person. Was gonna ask her to move in with me but, turns out she just had a thing for the Soldier. She got off on the violence of it.” He looked down at his vibranium hand, flexing and unflexing his fist. “The old one did so much damage. They had me use it to hurt so many innocent people, and then I found out she searched for Winter Soldier choke porn on my computer. This thing that had caused so much pain, brought me nightmares, that woke me up screaming at night, and it was her fucking kink.” 

He looked back up at you, eyes desperate and pleading. “I couldn’t stand to go through something like that again. Not with you, Major. Especially not with you. So, I panicked, and I was an ass, and I hurt you before you could explain, because I didn’t want to give you a chance to hurt me.”

You sighed and moved away from the wall. He was weakening your resolve to be pissed at him by the second. In fact, your heart was breaking for him. 

“And now I’ve ruined things between us,” he said, “before they even really had a chance to begin.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and I understand if you don’t want to forgive me. I was awful. I just… I just want you to know that I’ll always look back on the time we spent together as some of the best days of my life.” He made a move to stand up, but you took a step toward him.

“Oh my god, sit down, you idiot.” You walked closer, putting both your hands on his shoulders and slowly moving down to straddle his lap, his hands slipping almost subconsciously to your waist. “I don’t know if this is going to come back to bite me in the ass or not, but I forgive you.” You draped your arms around his neck and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. “Were you dumb? Yes. Did you overreact and behave like a child? Yes.” He narrowed his eyes at you, but you just playfully wrinkled your nose at him. 

“But are your concerns understandable, after everything you’ve been through? Also, yes.” You began to toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Next time you find yourself feeling like that, or questioning my motives, please promise me that you’ll talk to me instead of yelling at me and icing me out, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding profusely, “I can do that. I promise.”

“Good. Now, I feel this goes without saying, but I want to make sure we’re both on the same page, here,” you said to him. “ I did not seek out those documents. Someone sent them to me, anonymously. I didn’t tell you about them when I got them because I didn’t want to offend you or remind you of a past I know you don’t enjoy reminiscing about. I meant it when I said that I only want you to tell me if and when you’re ready, so I hadn’t done more than peruse the documents to get an idea of what they were and see if there were any hints as to where they came from. The only clue I have to the sender’s identity is a note where they wrote “Do you know who you’re fucking?” in black marker, but the letters are all blocky, so it’s not even like I can compare handwriting samples or something.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh, shit. Sugar, I’m so sorry. If someone is targeting you because of me…”

You blew out a raspberry and waved your hand dismissively. “I’m a big girl,” you told him. “I can take care of myself. I have a ton of guns and awards for marksmanship, so don’t worry about me.”

A corner of Bucky’s mouth tugged up. “That’s actually really hot,” he admitted. “Remind me to take you on a date to the shooting range sometime.”

You tried to bite back your grin, but failed miserably. “Cheeky of you to assume there’ll be more dates,” you teased him.

Bucky tightened his grip around your waist. “Are you saying there won’t be?” He looked genuinely concerned, and you didn’t want to tease him.

“That’s gonna depend on you, Bucky,” you told him. “I’m not Jessica, and I’m not going stand by and let you punish me for the ways she mistreated you. I can tell you right now: if you ever talk to me again the way you talked to me in my office, it will be the last time you ever talk to me, at all, do you understand?”

Bucky nodded. “I don’t want to lose you, Major,” he said, and you could feel the sincerity in every word; and you hoped that he would be true to his word. “I promise to never let my anger get the best of me and speak so disrespectfully to you ever again.”

You nodded, satisfied for now. “Good,” you said, standing up from his lap. “Then we can call it a night.”

Bucky rubbed his hands on his knees and stood up. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I’ll, uh, just be heading back to the Compound, so…”

You tilted your head. “No. It’s late, Bucky. Come to bed.” You reached out a hand, and Bucky’s entire demeanor changed, his face lighting up with surprised, but cautious delight.

“Really?” he asked, as though he almost expected you to pull your hand away from him and tell him you were just joking. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “I missed you,” you said simply. And it was true– it had only been a few hours, really, since your fight, but you had missed him. You had seriously considered that the two of you might be over for good, and you didn’t want to waste an opportunity to be close to him. 

Bucky reached for your hand, pulling you into him in the process. You let out an ‘oof’ as you collided with his chest, but soon his arms were around you, the fingers of his flesh hand tangling in your hair. 

“I missed you, too,” he said, leaning down to kiss you, and you felt yourself melt into his hold, the rough skin of his calloused right hand dragging along the exposed skin of your hip, the cold metal of the left tracing delicate patterns up and down your side. You could forgive him practically anything when he kissed you like this.

“We should go to sleep,” you said, breathlessly pulling away from his lips, “before we get ourselves worked up into a situation.”

He followed you into your bedroom, and you did your best to not ogle him as he stripped down to his boxer briefs. The second he joined you under the covers, you scooted over to snuggle yourself against him.

“You said we can’t get each other off,” you reminded him as you burrowed your head against his hard chest and rested a hand on his ass. “You didn’t say I couldn’t cop a feel.”

Bucky chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and you could hear the rumble of it through his skin. “Yeah, that’s definitely a loop hole, sugar,” he said. He kissed the top of your head and rested his cheek against it. Slotting his knee between your thighs, the two of you fit together like perfect puzzle pieces. 

“Goodnight, Bucky,” you said, trying to fight off a yawn.

“Goodnight, doll,” he replied, running his hands up and down your back. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

As you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, you couldn’t help but hope he was right.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[jetra4ivor]

3-4 of my posts regarding the Minecraft Movie have gone viral. And as someone who has never had a post go viral before I gotta say…

I do not like it.

Maybe on other websites it’s not a big deal, but here on tumblr it is a nightmare.

The biggest issue is that it’s really hard to filter the reblogs and be able to respond to things. If I’m like scrolling down through the reblogs to see what people are saying or writing, the SECOND a new reblog or like comes in tumblr INSTANTLY jumps me back up to the top. Because tumblr wants me to see that someone new is reblogging my posts.

And when you’re only dealing with 1 or 2 new reblogs or likes every few minutes or hours… not a problem.

But when it’s literally multiple times a SECOND? Omg… I can’t scroll down. I can’t keep up. It’s just CONSTANTLY snapping me back up to the top and I can’t scroll through anything and see what people are saying!!!

I was hoping after a few days it would slow down… BUT IT HASN’T. The only way I’ve been able to respond to anything lately is by manually finding the individual posts or reblogs themselves and scrolling through the comments there instead.

The second issue is that tumblr keeps your post as it was reblogged. Even if you edit the post later to fix a spelling or grammar mistake, tumblr keeps the incorrect version of the post if that was reblogged before you corrected things.

And for example, in one of the viral posts my phone auto corrected “Piglins” to “pigeons.” And I didn’t notice it at first until the post was well into being viral and someone pointed it out. But even after I corrected the mistake, it had been reblogged so many times now that the incorrect version is all anyone sees. So I’m still getting people telling me I wrote it wrong LONG after I already fixed it 😭

I post primarily about gay MCSM content. Specifically involving female Jessie and Petra. I don’t generally post about other Minecraft stuff, as I try to keep my blog focused on MCSM related content. I probably wouldn’t mind too much if going viral meant more people saw some of the gay MCSM content I reblog or talk about…

But none of the viral reblogging has transferred over into any of my other posts. Which is sad because one of the viral posts is about people talking about how good MCSM is. After nearly a decade of people talking down on MCSM it’s so fantastic to see so many people stepping up and defending it and saying it was good… but none of that positivity is spreading into any of my other posts about the game!

You guys actually liked MCSM? Please… come into the MCSM fandom! Inject your love of the game into this fandom! We NEED you here! We’ve felt so isolated and small! Where have you all been? Why won’t you join us here and create new art or talk about your favorite characters or moments?

Why hasn’t any of my viral success transferred into more fans of the game joining the MCSM community? 😭 It’s so gratifying to see the love of MCSM in the comments to the Minecraft Movie trailer… why isn’t that resulting in more people coming into the fandom on tumblr?

Don’t get me wrong… it’s nice that people liked some of my posts enough for them to go viral. But the way tumblr works makes going viral really difficult to deal with and I’m not seeing the cross pollination of MCSM fans into any of the OTHER posts I’ve made about MCSM!

I just want more people talking about the lesbian block people! You came here for the Minecraft Movie Trailer dissing… please stay for the lesbian block people!

[theshippirate22]

okay here’s a concept we need to look into here-

I’m thinking 1910’s, 1920’s Fem!Crowley. Mostly because the thought of David Tennant in a flapper dress and eyeliner makes me absurdly happy.

Regardless, Flapper Crowley with her little bob and her cigarette holder thing and those weird headbands like she could so so so so rock it

And her and Aziraphale go out some sundays for brunch at the Ritz if there’s “business” to talk about but really they just gossip over quiche and she parties as much as she possibly can. She was busy, last decade, after all (you know, it was her who gave the Zimmerman Telegram to America and got all caught up in the drama with Belgium) and sometimes when she’s had enough, she finds herself in the bookshop, thrown particularly unladylike and particularly snakelike in whatever armchair is closest to what Aziraphale’s doing and she goes on about petty human drama and whatever other nonsense she can think of.

And really, it’s quite nice. been the best decade she’s had in a good long while and everything is great.

Everything except Harold.

Harold Kensington is the heir to… something. Maybe railroads? Maybe banks? Maybe ladders? Crowley has no fucking idea because she’s never listened to a word he’s said.

Which is easier said than done, given the fact that he won’t seem to shut up around her. Usually she goes out to have a drink or ten at some billionaire’s house and then she comes back to the bookshop so Aziraphale can scold her for it but make her coffee so her head doesn’t hurt after she miracles the alcohol away.

But she can’t even do that anymore because it doesn’t matter where she’s at, Harold will find her. And then no matter what happens, he’ll follow after her like a lovesick puppy for the rest of the night and she can’t have any fun because everything thinks he’s her husband. Which is. Just insulting.

“He’s really not so bad,” Aziraphale told her after his first encounter with him. “I’m afraid I feel bad for him.”

Crowley shifts uncomfortably in her arm chair, pulling out a book wedged into her lower back and tossing it carelessly to the side, which earned her a dirty look from its owner. “Feel bad for me, Angel. I’m the one that’s being harassed.”

”I suppose you’re right…”

“I’ll be humane about it! The car will come out of nowhere. He won’t know what hit him!”

“Crowley, you will not kill that man!”

“I’ve got to do something!” She whined. “Can’t you… put the fear of God in him or something?”

“How would I even do that?”

“Convince him hes…. he’s got to be a priest! A monk! In… Nepal or someplace!”

“Haven’t you tried telling him you’re not interested?”

“Only every. single. time. he comes to speak to me. I promise there is no interpretation that I’m leading him on! I got a commendation from Beelzebub last month for something I’d said to him! He doesn’t seem to care!”

“You know, why don’t you just tell him you’re already married? He’s a respectable man, he ought to leave you alone if he knows you’re taken.”

“Married to who, Angel? I’m never with any other men ever. I’m just going to pull a husband out of thin air?”

“You’re with me all the time.”

“You’re want me to tell him we’re married.” It should’ve been a question, but it felt more exasperated than anything.

Aziraphale took his glasses off to clean them, or maybe to make his eye roll less noticeable. “I’m quite sure fear of man would do you much better than fear of God.”

She never spoke of Harold again. Aziraphale chose to believe this was because she’d taken his word for it and he’d been right, and she wasn’t overeager to admit that. This was, in fact, confirmed after nearly three Harold-less months.

Aziraphale was out to get breakfast and a newspaper and he’d run into Harold Kensington (figuratively) a few blocks from the shop. They’d passed through some stilted small talk- they had only met a grand total of twice, after all- until suddenly Harold said, “Look after her.”

Aziraphale floundered a moment before answering decidedly, “She doesn’t need me to look after her.”

Harold contemplated this. “I know that. Do it anyway. She deserves it.”

Brunch at the Ritz became a monthly occurrence.

[obsidiancreates]

Your First Mistake (Actually The Millionth But Who's Counting)

"Oh, no." Skrimm runs in front of his fellow spirits and jumps, waving his arms and trying to block their view. "Don't look at this! I'm the oldest and the wisest and you're not about to see anything that would make you think otherwise!"

"We never thought that in the first place," Felix says, peering through the fog of the graveyard. "What is this?"

"Torbek is pretty sure this is just drugs," Torbek says, patting Felix on the shoulder and nearly knocking the poor guy to the ground. "Torbek is glad his hallucinations are nice to him this time!"

"I think Torbek is right." Marius has his sword drawn, instinct ruling him even now, when his sword has been useless to him for decades. "It's that foul Witchlight again. I can only hope his presence among us is because of it's magics, and not a sign he's dying, or already dead."

"Torbek has died before and it was nothing like this. Ooooooh, maybe Torbek will wake up as an Aladrin again!"

"Casting that extremely sad sentiment aside, let's all just turn around and go out of the grave ya- oh, hells."

The Skrimm of the past wakes up, and an all-too-familiar situation plays out for current Skrimm. But this time, instead of his friends, it's his fellow spirits to watch and judge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shepherd picks Skrimm up by the back of his coat, holding him up so they're face-to-face. "You've been scoldin' me for years about goin' with The Professor on his mission, tellin' me how stupid and obvious it was-"

"Listen, experience is-"

"-And you signed a goshdamn warlock pact without even readin' it first?"

"This is why I just studied." Felix shrugs with his arms crossed.

"Uhhhh, Torbek doesn't really see the problem here." Torbek says while raising his hand. "That guy was gonna kill Skrimm if he didn't sign it, sooooooo Torbek doesn't think reading it would've helped at all."

"It might've let him know what exactly The Hound was, why it pursued him." Marius looks off into the now stagnant memory of the foggy city. "What if this deal set the tone for all of our lives after his? Of never truly knowing what's going on around us, enduring terrible fates as consequences for our abilities?"

"Come on, Marius, you're bein' a little dramatic here!" Skrimm is sweating, looking from Marius to Shepherd. "I learned my lesson, alright?! At least I wasn't going around tricking other people into signing bullshit contracts, right?!"

"Don't try an' distract us with how much we all hate Kremy," Shepherd growls.

"Wh- Torbek doesn't hate Mr. Kremy!"

Skrimm nods "And you're very alone in that."

"Wha-! ... Torbek isn't going to try and defend Skrimm anymore."

"That's just petty!"

"You don't get to tell us about what's smart and what's not anymore," Shepherd says, letting go of Skrimm. Skrimm gives a small shout, but lands on his feet perfectly fine.

"What, you're just going to write off my decades of experience and life because of one little mistake?"

"You signed your soul away, I wouldn't call that a 'little' mistake."

"If I'm not allowed to give Marius shit for his whole Dhampir deal, you guys can't give me shit for this!"

"But you do hold my damnation over my head."

"But I'm not supposed to, so you shouldn't be allowed to hold mine over my head either."

"Torbek is still confused how that contract was Skrimm's fault."

[tgmsunmontue]

🌿 ⇢ (give some advice on writer's block and low creativity) and  🏜️ ⇢ (what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?) <3

Hi! 😊

🌿 ⇢ (give some advice on writer's block and low creativity)

Oof. As someone who has taken years of writing breaks here and there due to being unable to create/write this hits hard. I didn't find a magic cure or anything, I was just suddenly inspired by a weird ass film (i.e. TG:M).

While I haven't been writing, I was creating in other ways (patchwork, drawing/painting and paper crafts). I think it works in peaks and troughs. I know I am much happier when creating something. In terms of feeling a lack of creativity, that is normal. We aren't machines. Our brains need time to mull over ideas - I will go and do something else and then come back to the thing.

My biggest barriers are procrastination and indecision (and then using my indecision to procrastinate).

My weekly 'tell me what write weekends' stop me from dithering and trying to figure out WHAT to write. I know I want to write, I just can't decide which WIP to do. I also manage many of my day-to-day tasks/chores like this by writing them all down, numbering them 1-20 and then rolling a dice to again force me into action rather than wasting away with indecision. This works for me. It may or may not work for other people (I have several friends for whom this idea makes them recoil in horror).

I have two fics I have no motivation to finish (not sure if that counts as writers block and/or lack of creativity?) In my head I know how they finish. However all the people subscribed to them DO NOT. So a thing which I will be trialling this weekend, as I attempt to finish these two DECADE OLD Glee AU WIPs, is re-read the fic, makes notes, read through what I have already written for both fics, and then make myself write at least 250 words on Friday night, Saturday and again on Sunday. I find 250 words generally easy to bang out in 15-20 minutes (30+ minutes if I am really struggling or am getting easily distracted). Will it be sequential to the story? Probably not. But just the act of forcing myself to write a little means the creativity starts flowing... again 250 words often ends up closer to 400, and 750-1,200 words toward a fic is great progress!

I'm not happy with about 30-40% of the stuff I share, I'm outright despairing of some of my older stuff, but for every fic I put out there, there is usually 1-10k of off-cuts/notes that never see the light of day.

I have a "PROGRESS NOT PERFECTION" sign to remind myself that I am my own worst critic as well.

🏜️ ⇢ (what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?)

The cliched but true 'all types', but FAVOURITE is nearly always questions - ones where I can answer and ramble and share my weird little head canons for that particular little fic. I like engaging with other people in fandom and spit-balling ideas back and forth, creating something organic that grows. It happens less and less now as people don't engage with WIPs as much due to fear of it never being finished (*cough cough* see above 10-year old WIPs), not realising that they could be the driving force behind it getting finished (or taking it in a whole other direction).

[thestarfishghost]

800 before the end of December is looking nearly impossible smh but eyyy! 777~

NGL, I'm movie and ova grinding so hard. I usually manage to watch 100 new things a year, but this year I instead rewatched nearly 40 things. It's been a big year for nostalgia for me, but also for getting a few people into different things with me! Vampy has personally watched so much stuff with me this year? Oh my God??? It's been a blast! I have never felt more human than when Vampy and Kimchi enjoyed Dragon Maid along side me, I swear. I also got Vampy into Enstars by starting the anime together and I am delighted >:3 Made this in celebration actually >:3 @shut-in-magical-girl

That said, I have actually watched some actual shows too, such as the first season of Oreimo and the first two seasons of Kami Nomi! Those were actually really fun. The first season of Oreimo has some of the most impassioned speeches I've ever heard about the more ""controversial"" sides of anime. I did admittedly have a love-hate relationship with Kirino at first, but honestly, it was just because of the more wildly exaggerated tsundere tropes. They became easier to laugh off after awhile. I really relate to the way she loves the hobby, and I think it really helped me warm up to her more quickly. How she enjoys collecting and getting excited over it... I relate to that in those same ways lol specifically to her Meruru shrine lol (ik no one asked, but aside from Krino, my best girl is actually Saori. I look forward to seeing more of her every time an episode comes on! :3) Also, Idk why I skipped Kami Nomi for so many years, but I legit just left it on my P2W list for a decade lol. I've only had one other person ever recommend it to me as well;; and that was like 4-5 years ago now lol;; I slowed down with playing eroge and bishoujo games around,,, 2015/2016(?), but I used to play them religiously. Keima should probably not be someone I relate to... but here I am. Relating to him. While nowadays my main passion lies in the animation side of things, I still really find relatability and comfort within this specific Reference Humor genre of anime, so I've really enjoyed this series so far. I finished up Irregular Witch too :( First show from the current airing block that I've actually completed. Bittersweet, but I had fun with that one too. I'm going to especially miss seeing Phoenix every week. I find that I usually watch whatever comedies are airing when I do tune into the blocks as they air, and this one was a really nice companion piece for the heavier stuff I've been keeping up with. I watched a few other full series, but this next one is the last I'm mentioning for now. I might make more posts another time; we'll see. Two of my favorites that I got around to during my sick week are these two next mentions; first up is Wotakoi. I am devastated that there isn't more Wotakoi. Help. They covered pretty much all of the manga according to other fans, so it's unlikely more will come out of it. It always hurts a bit when something is fully finished, though. especially when I enjoyed it so much. I might read it just for the sake of wanting more of it. It was really straight forward and was honestly a breath of fresh air. There weren't any real love rivals or anything; just nerds figuring themselves out and their dynamics out. I literally just watched six weirdos make friends and fall in love with fairly no complications involved. I'm thriving. (Or maybe I'm just a lonely, nerdy adult who is tired of drama in my life. Maybe that's the only takeaway here lmao /lh) And then,,,, finally,,, Magical Witch Punie-Chan. I have... No words. It was amazing. I loved it. I haven't laughed that hard in awhile. 4 episode OVA with an additional 4 episode Omake after. Wonderful if you like darker gag-humor series and want a short little trip. This one was weird but delightful, truly. P.S. I kept "Lyrical Tolkarev~ Kill Them All!~" as my discord status for like 3 days lol That theme song is going to live in my head rent free for the rest of my days. As for what I'm most excited for in 2024, there's probably, like, A LOT. But off of the top of my head, I can name the next Given project (PLEASEEEEEEEEECOMEOUTALREADYYESSSSGIVEITTOMEEEE JANUARY27THCANNOT COME FAST ENOUGHHH) and the second season of Bokuyaba (one of the only manga I have bothered with in 15 years, going to be so real right now;; I cherish this story). When these things come out, I know for a fact that my blog is going to briefly implode. Apologies about it ahead of time lol!;; I'll probably be saying more as the currently airing series all come to an end over the coming weeks. There's quite a few I don't want to end TT~TT so talking about them might be nice!

[limeswithlemons]

i find myself standing in front of that dark green door, fingers resting on the handle.

i try my best to notice everything, to commit everything to memory, so nobody can tell me that i don't remember the details correctly.

the paint is peeling, and the stairs are broken. have been for years. probably even a decade now. the third stair up is nearly split in half.

the fake shutters have also been peeling for decades now, and one of them has even fallen off the face of the house.

the yard, with its patchy grass and random mounds of red clay, makes everything look even more run down.

i take a deep breath and open the door. i don't bother knocking: i know there is nobody here. nobody except for the ghosts.

i'm standing in a foyer, two sets of carpeted stairs in front of me. on my right, the larger of the two, leading up to the main living space; to the left, a path to the two bedrooms, small closet, and the bathroom and laundry room.

i'm frozen in this place. a dark green--or is it dark blue?--bench is pushed against the wall on the left. it takes up most of the space in the little foyer. it's the newest-looking thing in the house. nobody ever touched the thing.

i could go downstairs. downstairs. where i'd find many ghosts. the ghost of my half-brother, who i never met, but constantly think about. the ghost of my father, who would scream and yell at me the little time he'd be there. the ghost of my sister and i, who were killed in that house over and over and over. the ghost of my mother, who was both a victim and an enabler.

or, i could go upstairs. upstairs, where i would find just as many ghosts. the whole place is haunted. it's infested with horrible memories. and i'm sure tons more that have been blocked out. i know i'd find the ghost of my grandmother--more than one, actually. she died in that house. physically. i'd find her yelling at us or giving us the silent treatment for saying the wrong thing. i'd find the ghosts of my father's brothers, who i haven't claimed in years. i'd find the ghost of me being brutally murdered every fucking day at the hands of my dad's brothers. i'd watch as the scenes--the many, many scenes--showcased my tears and screams, and their laughter. laughter. that was their response to the pain they put us through. to laugh about it.

or, instead, i could leave. the one final option. i could keep walking through this house, remembering some things, still blocking out other things. but leaving this house behind, i think, is the only way to try to move on.

[tullium]

I hoped to never go on to social media to call out someone for abusing me in some way... but here I fucking am.

TW// grooming, toxic relationship

At the age of 10, I met someone online who I shared a common interest with. They introduced me to their friends, and one of them would become my abuser. After our little group fell apart, her and I stayed friends. Eventually, we figured out we liked each other, and we started dating by the time I was 12.

Things were fine for awhile, but during an arguement one time, I remember her calling me toxic. I didn't even know what that word meant, yet it stuck to me for years. I didn't get over that until I finally stepped into the light, left her behind, and finally started to get better.

We'd keep arguing, we'd take "breaks", but with each break we'd end up still be like "ily" and realize that we weren't truly having a break, ever.

Once we broke up, it only took me a day to decide that we couldn't even stay friends. It didn't feel right. I ghosted her, and I don't even remotely regret it. I was only 13. Things were quiet, and with my therapist, I had come to realize how much she really abused me.

6 months later, my abuser reached out to me. She snuck into my discord server, once she revealed herself, I was willing to make small talk. I was willing to forgive. I was naive.

I mentioned that I told my friends in my server about what she did. So she snooped and got upset when I called her a groomer. So, I deleted that message... but I really shouldn't have.

I'm 16 now, and I only just now realized that she abused me so much worse than I think. Everytime I realize that she did something wrong, I think "it can't get worse than this.", but it has. Most of my memories of the time I had with her is blotted out, but one thing I do remember is a BDSM list.

I was 13, maybe even 12, when she sent me the blank list, and one filled out. She told me, "You should do this and send it to me. Here's mine." I don't remember looking at hers, but I remember genuinely trying to fill it out, because I was young. I was naive. I didn't know any better.

I didn't know most of the things listed on it. I had to look half of it up, and I was so uncomfortable doing it the whole time. Not like anything could have had any truth to it because I was fucking 12/13. I had absolutely 0 experience in anything sexual. I was so uncomfortable doing it, it wasn't fair to me to do something like this and not understand any of it.

I didn't realize how damn weird it was back then. I only just realized it and it's been nearly half a decade. There are certain people out there that have used that list to groom their victims, I found it out just now, and it hit me like a fucking train to realize that I was victim to it.

Tabby, I don't fucking give a shit if I ruin your chances of college, or a job. You don't deserve a good life because you ruined mine. And even though I've learned to grow around my trauma, I cannot move on from the fact that you are the reason I struggle so much today. I don't fucking trust people, because of you and the way you treated me. But I have learned to realize that I will not tolerate people stepping all over me and I will not be treated unfairly because I have fucking worth and you don't get to act all innocent anymore.

My abuser is Tabbybat6. Bluebat, Tabbitha, whatever the fuck she goes by now. I first met her on Steam, we moved to hangouts, then Discord. She has Wattpad, Instagram, Tumblr, and on everything I could think of, I have her blocked and restricted.

Tabbitha, if somehow, you're reading this, I hope you understand the way you made me feel, someday. I hope you feel all the pain you made me feel from your abuse. And I'm praying to the god I don't believe in that justice gets fucked served.

[edensrose]

For the event, can I request a scenario based on this prompt - reader likes both (character a) and (character b) but they now demand a decision from reader. With Feanor and Fingolfin (if you write for him) - reader chooses Feanor.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 1k event: love triangle

ʚ pairing : fëanor / reader / fingolfin

ʚ cw : light angst

ʚ note : I don't write for fingolfin BUT I will make an exception because I really liked this concept ~ hope you like it!

A hand slams itself on the wall beside your head and forces a yelp from your lips. Your eyes quickly dart up to meet an azure shade, now misty and brewing with irritation, so much so that it prompts you to flinch and curl your body inwards as if wishing for the wall to swallow you whole. 

“I grow tired of these games.’’ “M-My lord -”

“Fëanor.’’ 

Grunting, the elf in question sends a glare that practically rivals Mandos’ stern gaze as he stares the other down. “Do not interfere, lest you wish for me to strike you right where you stand,’’ you just so manage to glance over Fëanor’s arm that cages you between his staggering figure and the block of stone, it is then that you catch sight of an unfazed countenance. 

“Fëanor, that is enough. Must you be so brazen? You are frightening the poor thing.’’ Similar in comparison to his brother’s yet softer, a pair of crystal-like irises find your own in an apologetic manner. You nearly sigh in relief yet it catches in your throat the second Fëanor’s harsh look alternates to you instead. “Are you afraid?” Dripping with annoyance yet with an almost-concerned undertone, he questions. 

He hesitantly withdraws at the subtle nod of your head and exhales in an attempt to vent his frustration. “You will never receive an answer should you behave so brash.’’ “No one asked you. She was about to speak until you decided to interrupt.’’ “Be gentle with her.’’ Fingolfin’s voice wavers only slightly at the stubbornness displayed but eases his shoulders once more when he disregards his brother in favour of looking upon you; a gentle expression returns. For a moment you presume you are safe and begin your subtle inching away from the wall and hopefully the two elves. Another day dodging the fateful question, another day left for you to deci - 

“Y/N. I would appreciate it if you remained present.’’ 

For Valar’s sake!

“Feanor holds some truth. We require an answer.’’ He steps closer and finds position beside his brother who grunts and ensures there is a decent gap between them, which Fingolfin blatantly ignores. “At least he agrees,’’ the eldest mutters and before long there are two pairs of oh so similar yet ever-as contrasting eyes meeting your gaze, expectant, firm - there was no getting out of it this time. 

“B-But. . .’’ 

“No more of that.’’ “This has been going on for decades.’’ 

You pull your lip between your teeth and threaten to tear into the soft flesh. Fëanor was right, this had been dragging on for long enough, This game of cat and mouse, will-they won’t-they and indecisiveness. It was nearing half a century since you first laid eyes on them and this rivalry to win your heart ensued. Much to your surprise their efforts had elicited a flurry of inconceivable emotions and now, somehow, your heart beats for both of them. One would consider it taboo, to fall in love with two ellons, let alone two brothers! And yet here you were, trapped by those two very men who eagerly awaited your answer. For you to choose.

How could you? 

If it had been such strife from the beginning how could you possibly make a decision now? When you were cornered and nearly crushed by the immense pressure weighing over your head and shoulders. 

On one hand, there was Fingolfin: wise, strong and kind-hearted. With irises that shimmered like the lake of Lorellin and a smile that set off a plethora of butterflies within your stomach. Then was Fëanor: diligent, blessed in every aspect of body and mind, his passion and vigour left you breathless. 

How could you possibly choose one? When it was obvious that your very soul yearned for both. 

Sighting your anxiety and uncertainty, Fingolfin takes a step towards you despite the other’s dismay and gently takes your hand into his warm, tender hold. “Whatever your decision may be — I will respect it, my lady.’’ Gentle lips find your temple and in an instant the tension releases around your heart. “Right, Fëanor?” He doesn’t bother glancing back as Fëanor, with furrowed eyebrows, eventually draws a sigh and nods his head. “As much as I would be disappointed beyond compare should you choose the Noldor half-breed -” he halts, taking your troubled features into consideration. “I will respect your decision.’’ 

You were grateful, even if the serenity was for but a moment before your chest tightened once more. With that assurance in mind you knew that the decision would not weigh too heavily on your mind; even if it would sting to have to let one of them go. 

Alas, it would have to be done. There was no universe in which you could lead both of them on and hope to remain as such — it was far from fair on either of them. 

It was now or never. The drumming of your heart was felt within your eardrums and you were certainly heard by the two of them. Bated breath, trembling hands. Was it time? Was it finally time? You could lead them on no longer. This had to be done. It was for the best. Perhaps then this guilty nibble at your insides would finally cease.

So, with a deep breath, you shut your eyes and repeated their names through your head like a broken record, a fateful prayer. Fëanor. . . Fingolfin. Fëanor, Fingolfin, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Fingolfin,

Fëanor, Fingolfin,

Fëanor, Fëanor

Fingolfin —

“Fëanor,’’ you murmur. “I choose Fëanor.’’ 

There’s a squeeze around your hands, gentle, lingering, as if hesitant to let you go. Before the warmth altogether leaves your skin and the shadow cast over you feels smaller. It takes all your courage to crack open your eyes and when you do you wish you had kept them shut — for azure pools that stared back at you brimmed with an unwavering solemn and a heartbroken countenance. 

Fingolfin notices the constriction of your pupils and pushes a bittersweet smile to his lips, bringing his hand to caress your face one last time before finally. Painfully. Letting you go and taking a step to the side. 

It is then that you finally catch a glimpse of Fëanor’s face. Dripping with pride and an evident smirk plastered upon him. In two simple strides he now replaces the position of his brother and warmth encases your hand once more; far different to Fingolfin’s yet equally as welcomed. “Well, I suppose that settles it.’’ He brings your knuckles to his lips, free arm looped around your waist as he locks eyes. 

“You are finally mine. My lovely bride to be.’’ 

taglist — @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @blueberryrock @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @snakesofindia-sursesaji @theroguemaia @heraluthor

[mindofharry]

In which bucky realises the mistake he made and does everything in his power to get you back.

losing you masterlist: here!

smut!! fluff!! angst!! i’m so fucking in love with this series. mean!bucky, sex and a bit of grovelling! ALSO!!! thank you for 2k, i never expected to get this far with this page. writing has always been a passion for me so thank you guys for taking time out of your day to read my stuff. i appreciate and love you all immensely <3 happy reading!

The first thing bucky notices about you not being here, is the how quiet and lonely his apartment is. Usually, your moans, whimpers and giggles fill the small space. Not anymore. The only noise he can hear is you saying those words to him.

“You’re selfish and mean. And i deserve better”

It felt like it was ringing in his ear, no matter how loud the tv is or the children running up and down the hall, it was on a continuous loop. Selfish. Mean. Deserve better. It was meant to be no strings attached, something to let off a little steam. But then bucky got those butterflies, he wanted to take you dancing, take you to meet his friends. He didn’t like the feeling, so he didn’t the only thing he knew how to do.

Push you away.

Bucky didn’t like how he felt with you, he couldn’t understand it. He felt like he couldn’t be that person for you no matter how fucking hard he tried, bucky couldn’t be the one you cuddled up with after a stressful day. He couldn’t be the one cooking dinner for you. And he most definitely can’t be the person loving you, he’s just not programmed for that. Bucky hasn’t felt love in decades. He doesn’t know how to process it yet.

Bucky knew what he did was wrong and now laying on the ground, his back against the hard wood, the only thing he wanted was you. Y/N.

Bucky wanted Y/N.

He decided then and there, he would fix himself up, go to his therapist. And get you back.

Back in your apartment, you were still in your dress, only this time your make up was smudged and your date was cancelled. Who were you kidding? Nobody could replace bucky barnes, nobody. Fuck, you love him so much. This feeling, it’s so big. It feel like it’s taking up all of your body, this fire so big that no one can put out. Bucky is a drug, and you’ve definitely become addicted.

After what felt like hours staring at your wall, you decide it’s best to head to bed and just forget about what a disaster this night has been.

“So” Dr Raynor said, crossing her legs over. Bucky was sat in front of her, his legs bouncing up and down as his therapist tried to figure him out. Bucky hated therapy. He hated everything to do with it, he would rather be put in jail than do this bullshit sharing feelings thing.

But if he wanted any chance of getting you back, in his bed, kissing him than he would do it.

Bucky barnes was officially smitten.

“Tell me” Dr Raynor said, leaning foward. “What’s going on, james?” She asked and bucky sighed placing a hand over his eyes.

“I need help” He said and Dr Raynor nodded. “Well, yeah. That much is obvious” She teased making bucky roll his eyes.

“With a girl” He said and his therapist grunted leaning back in her seat. Bucky hasn’t been this embarrassed since middle school when he peed his pants and had to go home early, everyone laughed at him in the playground. He never forgot that, but right now, his therapist trying to keep her laughs in made him feel a little small and fragile.

“Fine. I’ll find someone else” He mumbled, moving to get up. Dr Raynor settled herself down and held her hand up to stop him. “Oh, be quiet. Tell me about this girl” She said putting her notebook down. Bucky looked down at his hands and smiled.

It almost startled the therapist, she’d never seen him smile like that. Or ever, for that matter.

“Y/N” He started.

“Y/N is the most beautiful and wise woman i’ve ever met” He said. “Always there for me, willing to do just about anything i asked her to do. Fuck, she’s the best thing that’s happened to me, since well ever” Bucky said and the therapist nodded.

“But i fucked it up. Said somethings i didn’t mean and now she won’t even look me in the eye. I was so shitty to her just because i couldn’t admit my own feelings.” Bucky groaned and Dr raynor nodded agreeing.

“James, what do you want me to tell you? You messed up, now go and apologise” She said and buckys eyes widened. “I can’t just apologise to her” He said and his therapist lifted her hand up.

“Exactly. Problem solved”

Bucky made a noise of complaint while dr raynor packed up her stuff. “See you next week, lover boy” she said walking out of the room and leaving bucky to his own thoughts.

Flowers? Chocolates? Dancing? A poem? What do women like you, like these days? God, he’s still way too new in this world to be thinking about these things. But he really fucking needs you. He needs you and your jokes, you and your witty nature.

Bucky just needs you, and he’s about to do anything in his power to get you back, starting with an apology.

You were sitting in your living room a glass of wine in your hand and new girl on in the background. Your mind was somewhere else, you’ve just felt off all day. You keep zoning out, not being able to concentrate. Is this what a broken heart feels like? A knock on the door brings out of your thoughts and back to reality. A shitty fucking reality. You sigh and put your wine down on the table and make your way over the front door, you nearly tripped over your stiletto heels on the way there. You didn’t move them last night because you were so exhausted and out of it.

Opening the door you see bucky. Just the man you didn’t want to see, you begin to close the door in his face when his foot blocks it. “Please, just hear me out” He begged and you sighed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Can i come in?” Bucky asked and you scoffed.

“Why should i let you come in? Do you remember what you did the last time?” You said and bucky placed a hand over his eyes, obviously frustrated. You didn’t understand why, he made your place in his life pretty clear.

“I should come in because i need to apologise to you. For everything. The way i treated you and the things i said. I need to apologise, so please let me in”

You sighed and opened up the door wider and walked down the hallway. You sat back down on the couch taking a gulp of you wine. You were so easy, you thought. You barley put up a fight, you should’ve just closed the door in his face. But you did want to hear what he had to say, what bullshit apology he’d come up with.

“So?” You said and bucky nodded sitting beside you.

“I miss you” He started and you rolled your eyes. “No, fuck. I do miss you, but i’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry” Bucky said grabbing your hand. You wanted to pull away but you just couldn’t, his hand felt so good in yours. You leaned over and put your wine on the coffee table. Bucky took that as permission to take your other hand.

“I had feelings for you, no i have feelings for you. I just, i’m not good at expressing myself, i’m working on it. My therapist told me to get you flowers and shit, but i left them in my apartment and this is just a whole mess” Bucky ranted, you had to bite your lip to make you not burst out with laughter.

“You talked about to your therapist?” You asked, giggling. Fuck, even your laugh is beautiful. What is there not love about you?

“I’m sorry” He said, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “I have feelings for you, and i didn’t know how to express that. So i pushed you away and treated you so badly. I’m going to apologise for that until the day i die. I just, i like you a lot Y/N” he said and you could feel your cheeks burn.

You really weren’t expecting that.

“My thought process was that i would never be that person, you know that boyfriend who’s ready to cook dinner and take the dogs for a walk” He said and you nodded understand.

“But i’m willing to do that for you, if you’d give me another chance”

You looked up at him, staring into those beautiful wide eyes. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“Bucky....”

He moved closer to you bringing a hand to your cheek. “Please, i have hundreds of flowers and like 10 boxes of chocolates back in my apartment. Come back with me? Please?” He asked, so much vulnerability could be heard. You sighed and looked around.

You didn’t deserve what happened, but you know he’s sorry. Maybe a little more grovelling? Make up sex is the best, though. You contemplate a little longer and then nod.

“Yeah, i’ll stay at yours for a bit”

Bucky nearly cried when you said that. Maybe he’d actually have a chance.

He helped you up from the couch and watched you get your shoes. He could get use to this. “You ready?” He asked holding out his hand, you nodded taking it. It felt nice to be wanted.

After a short walk to buckys apartment, your met with (literally hundreds) of yellow flowers. You could cry, he did this all for you? You lift your hand to your mouth and look around the room.

“Do you hate it? I can get better-“

You interrupt him with a peck to the lips. He was shocked, but he didn’t hesitate with kissing you back. He placed both of his hands on the side of your head and as you gasped, he slipped his tongue in.

“Fuck, i missed you” you said in between kisses, you moved your hands to his chest. Bucky pulled away and moved back.

“I just want you to know, that i wasn’t planning on seducing you or anything. If you want i have sex we will, if you don’t, then we’ll watch a movie. There’s no pressure” He said reassuring you. You smirked and pecked his lips.

“Why don’t we go to your bedroom?”

Bucky pulls you along to his room, lifting you up once he opens the door. “Your room is messy” You said and Bucky laughed. “Hasn’t been the same without you” He said and you pouted, kissing his lips.

“I’m sorry about that, let me help you?” You said taking your shirt off, leaving you only in your pjs short and bare breasts. Bucky was staring at you intently, making your nipples harden. He reached out and ran his fingers across your nipples making you moan with pleasure. His finger was cold and just what you needed.

“Strip and then you’re going to ride me. Been too long princess” Bucky said and you nodded quickly taking your shorts and skimpy underwear off.

“Fuck” Bucky said as you lay down on the bed, legs wide open. You were dripping wet, your hands coming down to play with yourself a little. “You’re gorgeous,” He said, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Seems like you’re wet enough for me, yeah? i’ll play with you more later” He said and you nodded, just wanting him to be in you.

Bucky rolled over and took a condom out from the door, he quickly got out of his clothes and you almost moaned at the sight of him putting on that condom. He really does like hot doing anything.

Bucky lays down his head on his pillow and you quickly and swiftly move to sit on his lap, your knees either side of him.

You placed his cock, in your dripping pussy and loved the sound he made. Bucky groaned, his hands coming to your hips immediately, to guide you at a good pace. Your hands moved to his chest, scratching at it slightly, bucky moaned at that too. Pain kink, you figured that out pretty quickly. You began to move your hips and created a good rhythm.

“Oh, god” You whimpered, as you bounced on Bucky's cock.

“Missed you, and this” Bucky said and you nodded, your hips bucking.

You begin to move faster and faster, the bed frame hitting against the wall and bucky groans and your whimpers the only thing you can hear. God, you missed him and his cock so much. Bucky is so deep inside of you, you can feel everything. He’s so good at this, sometimes he doesn’t even have to try.

“This…. is so good…..” You said whimpering, leaning down to peck his lips. Bucky responded, moving his hands to your breasts and giving them a squeeze.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, bucking his hips up fucking you faster. You nodded and moaned.

“Please! Oh fuck” You screamed, feeling that pleasure start to build up. As the both of you came down from your highs, bucky brought you into his chest.

“I’m never losing you again”

Taglist: @formulamendes @ityagirljay @josegandulfo @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @beminetokeep @jbcalway @lxdyred @idkwhttocallmysrlf <33

[goodlucktai]

Could you write something about natsume getting a hug?? Just, from whoever n for whatever reason. I keep thinking about how no one ever really hugs him n it makes me sad

x

The absolute last person Joji expected to see today was Natsume Takashi.

Joji slows to a stop on the corner of the street, a block away from the train station, and stares shamelessly.

It's been a decade since the last time he saw Natsume, but he recognizes him immediately. Of course he does. His light hair and eyes aside, Joji has thought about him on-and-off since junior high.

Joji remembers that rainy day when he was thirteen, an empty desk in the middle of his eighth grade classroom, Ito leaning over in his chair to whisper, "Did you hear? Natsume was in the ER. He almost died. The police are looking at his foster parents."

It was as if he'd been plunged into a pool of ice water. He sat there, frozen, while their teacher called them to attention for homeroom and announced that Natsume wouldn't be in their class going forward.

What was the last thing Joji had said to him? "It's no wonder your parents didn't want you." Why the hell had he said that? A book, if he remembers right. He'd lent it to Natsume and Natsume gave it back all water-damaged, like he'd gone for a swim with his backpack on. Natsume's eyes were on his hands, on the ruined book, and he'd tried to apologize, said he'd pay for it, but Joji just snatched it away, ticked off.

"This is what I get for trying to help you, I guess. It's no wonder your parents didn't want you."

Joji is almost twenty-four now. He's going into pediatrics. His fiance, Sakura, is a foster parent. She is currently the proud and fiercely protective mother of two beautiful twin girls.

Sora and Miu are terrified of adults and they go everywhere together and sometimes they make up stories. Sometimes they lie, about why their uniforms are torn, why they're home late, why their lunchboxes are covered in dirt. They have this look in their eyes sometimes like they're just waiting to get hurt again.

Sakura has the patience of a saint. She never raises her voice. She stitches their torn uniforms, replaces their lunchboxes, and, on more than one occasion, has marched into their junior high school and threatened the staff with physical violence if her babies come home with bruises one more time.

Needless to say, Sora and Miu adore her. It took them longer to warm up to Joji, but they're there now; no longer flinching when he moves in their direction, greeting him happily when he comes over for breakfast, smiling shyly when he staggers into the apartment underneath the weight of two giant stuffed rabbits that cost nearly half his paycheck, because it's their birthday, Sakura, they need them.

Joji tries to imagine someone telling them "this is why your parents didn't want you" and goes absolutely breathless with rage.

Natsume glances up from his phone to look right at Joji, as if someone had pointed him out. Caught staring, Joji shuffles in place for a moment, and then squares his shoulders and heads over.

He's expecting the Natsume of his memory; he's expecting him to curl his shoulders and duck his head, the way Joji's girls still sometimes do when a stern auntie wants to talk to them.

He's not expecting Natsume to level him with a clear, politely confused gaze. He pockets his phone, and shoves his hands into the front pockets of the cardigan he's wearing; a size too big, like something he borrowed out of someone else's closet, but it's a charming look on him. He's dressed well, in dark-washed jeans and white high-top sneakers, and his silvery hair is long, probably long enough to fall past his shoulders if he didn't have it piled up in a bun. There's a squat calico cat at his feet, glaring up at Joji with judgmental green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Natsume asks kindly. His voice is a shock to the system; Joji remembers him like it was yesterday.

"Oh," Joji says, stymied. It never occurred to him that Natsume might not recognize him in turn. "Um, I'm Watanabe Joji. We were classmates in eighth grade."

"That's right," Natsume says with gratifying quickness. He looks a little embarrassed now and returns Joji's short bow. "Sorry, it's been a long time."

And we weren't exactly friends, he doesn't say, but that common knowledge sits neatly between them.

"Ten years!" Joji replies with some forced enthusiasm. "Is that why you're here?"

"Sorry?"

"The, ah, reunion this weekend? Ito, from our homeroom back then, put together a whole thing. Our whole class is getting together for dinner and drinks."

It occurs to him that Natsume might not have been invited. Joji thinks that's less because he isn't welcome and more because Ito almost certainly didn't have his contact information. The few times his name has come up, Joji's friends have gone quiet and melancholy. A few of them are parents now, or aunts and uncles at least. All of them know better than they did when they were mean, shitty little teenagers.

Joji opens his mouth to assure Natsume that they'd love to have him, but Natsume cuts him off with a laugh.

It's not a mean laugh. It's not unfriendly in the slightest. But it stings anyway, because Natsume is laughing out of pure disbelief.

"No, no," he says, waving a hand, "god, no. Could you imagine?" he adds, glancing down at the cat. The cat huffs, settling a little more solidly against Natsume's ankle. "We're just passing through, actually."

"We?" Joji asks dumbly. Did he mean himself and the cat?

It's Natsume's turn to get cut-off, this time by a long, drawn-out shout of "Takashiiii!"

A short, russet-haired young man around Joji's age comes barreling down the sidewalk toward them at a flat-out run. Joji's first inclination is one of alarm, but Natsume steps forward with his arms outstretched, and the stranger collides with him in an embrace that looks like it hurts.

Natsume is laughing again, but it's softer this time. It's the warmest sound Joji has ever heard him make.

"What's this for?" Natsume is saying, patting him on the back.

"Just missed you," his friend replies.

"You saw him twenty minutes ago, Satoru," comes the exasperated call from further down the road, and Joji glances over to find a small group headed their way, laden with shopping bags.

"Yeah, exactly," Satoru says, leaning back without letting go, just enough to gaze up at Natsume with a cheeky grin. "I'm all Takashi-deficient. It's pretty serious."

"Sounds serious," Natsume replies, and agreeably keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the rest of their group catches up.

A tall, dark-haired man stoops to pick up Natsume's cat, and it settles agreeably in the crook of his arm. The brown-eyed woman beside him lets out a coo, shifting all her bags to one hand so she has one free to scratch it behind the ears.

"We're being rude," the dark-haired man says in a soft, pleasant tone. "Who's this, Takashi?"

Natsume introduces Joji as an old classmate, giving absolutely none of their history away in tone or expression, but somehow all of his friends seem to clue in to something anyway. Their collective demeanor shifts, in an unidentifiable way, even if their polite smiles don't slip an inch as Takashi introduces each of them in turn.

All but Nishimura Satoru, still tucked up against Natsume's side, who gives Joji a positively poisonous look.

"Okay, Satchan, you're going to lose privileges if you can't be nice," Kitamoto says dryly, and extracts him from Natsume's person with a deftness that speaks of years of practice.

"Nooo," Nishimura says, but it's curbed quickly by Shibata shoving a bag at him and snapping, "Carry this! It's that stupid lucky cat statue you just had to have, and it's heavy!"

"It looks just like sensei! Tooru loves it, too!"

"I do," Taki admits.

It's a warm afternoon, right at the end of August, the sky turning golden with the beginnings of dusk. Joji still manages to feel cold.

He grew up, but Natsume did, too. He always regretted what he did, he always wondered if Natsume was okay, wherever he went, but Natsume hasn't seemed to spare him a second thought. He's got his own friends now; bright, kind people who look like they'd raise hell for him. Who run to meet him.

Joji missed the chance to have a place in Natsume's life. He's a footnote, now, and not a very good one.

"Jojojojo!"

The bright voices have him spinning around, forgetting everything else, and he lights up when he spots Sora and Miu waving at him from the other side of the street. Sakura has a firm hold on their jackets so they can't go spilling out into the street until the pedestrian crossing sign lights up, and then she releases them like a couple of eager hunting dogs.

Natsume's friends shuffle to one side politely, and Joji steps forward to catch his girls when they reach him. They're so beautiful and he missed them so much, this weekend they were away to visit Sakura's parents. He kisses them each on the head, and then kisses Sakura on the head in the name of fairness, and it makes all three of them laugh.

Taki coos just like she did with the cat, hands clasped together under her chin.

"What sweet girls!" she says. "Are they yours, Watanabe?"

"Yes," Joji says proudly, putting one arm around each of their shoulders. They've come so far, not hiding behind him from the group of strangers, even if they press into his sides shyly. "This is Miu, and this is Sora. We're adopting them."

Sakura shifts her weight imperceptibly, a barely-there tell. Waiting, he knows, for the surprise, or outright condemnation. She's dealt with a lot of bullshit for taking these kids in, from family and ex-friends and even total strangers. It rolls right off her, and she usually gives as good as she gets, but she hates when Sora and Miu have to hear it. They don't deserve to hear it.

Joji will have to explain it to her, later, why he brought it up. Why he knew it would be safe to bring it up in front of these strangers.

Sure enough, all their faces soften immediately, a gentle transformation. Natsume crouches, gazing at the twins with an expression that Joji remembers from his childhood. The delicate resilience, the willingness to reach out even if he got hurt.

The look on his face ten years ago when he handed back that ruined book, owning up to his mistake and trying to fix it, buying Joji a replacement even after Joji said something unthinking and cruel.

"I was adopted, too," he says.

"Really?" Sora asks quietly.

"Really," Natsume tells her. "My parents died when I was little. I wasn't an easy child to care for, even though it wasn't my fault, so I got passed around a lot. It took me a long time to find my place, but I found it. Did you find yours?"

"I think so," Sora says, glancing around Joji at her sister.

"Me, too," Miu adds.

Sakura clutches Joji's hand hard enough to bruise. She won't cry here and now, but he already knows it's going to be an ice-cream-for-dinner kind of night.

Natsume looks up to meet Joji's eyes when he says, "That's good. I'm glad to hear it."

It's forgiveness. Joji hears it plain as day. He didn't get a chance to ask for it-- isn't sure he deserves it-- but there it is, freely given. And it's reassurance, too.

When Joji's daughters used to curl their shoulders and duck their heads, it would always tug at the memory of a boy he used to know, who was as kind as he was desperate for kindness.

Now, he thinks, when his girls are making a mess of the kitchen trying to follow a pancake recipe with their friends, or dragging a stray cat inside with big, hopeful eyes, it'll remind him of this afternoon. Natsume's clear, bright eyes, and the protective cluster of friends surrounding him.

The world wasn't fair to him; it left a mountain in his life that he had to climb, complete with all its pitfalls and crumbling paths and bad weather.

And here he is on the other side, goodness intact. Smiling. Loved.

He found his place. Sora and Miu found theirs.

And god, if that doesn't give Joji hope for everyone else.

"It was nice to see you," he says thickly, hoping Natsume hears his honesty. "Don't come to the reunion, that was-- a stupid thing to say, but-- would you-- dinner?"

Natsume hears it. He tilts his head, considering, and then says, "We missed our train, anyway."

"And I'm starving," Tanuma says agreeably. Clearly, he says it more to agree with Natsume than anything.

Nishimura is the hardest sell, watching Joji with hard eyes. But then his gaze dips to Sora and Miu, and all his sharp edges go soft, like butter melting in the sun. After a handful of tense seconds, he visibly gives up on his anger with a huff. His friends, watching patiently, all give absurd little cheers when it's clear he's on board.

"Fine, but if you live farther than three feet away, we're getting an Uber," Shibata threatens, rustling the shopping bags in his hands with annoyed fervor.

They drift in the direction of Joji's home, and Kitamoto talks Shibata down from the Uber with the promise of ducking into a 7-Eleven for ice creams instead, and Taki and Sakura are fast friends, rolling their sleeves up to compare tattoos-- Taki's is a strange, occult-looking circle that Joji makes a mental note to ask about-- and Tanuma lets Sora carry the fat cat, while Miu pets it with reverent fingers.

Natsume walks beside Joji, calm and unhurried, with Nishimura on his other side. He grew up with so much grace.

"Can I add you to the class groupchat?" he asks without thinking.

"Good luck with that," Nishimura butts in, not unkindly. "He's the most unreliable texter you've ever met. He left me on read for like two days once, and we live together."

"You'd have better luck with an email," Natsume says apologetically.

It's more than Joji thought he'd get; they exchange contact information, in the middle of this chaotic, noisy group making its way down the street toward the well-lit combini on the corner and then, beyond that, home.

Natsume doesn't seem to have any interest in reconnecting with his old classmates, and Joji doesn't blame him for that. Even though it will certainly piss Ito off to be kept in the dark, even just for a few days, Joji decides it's for the best.

Nishimura's goodwill can't be stretched that far.

[brewritesworld]

These past few months have been the longest but some of the best of my adult years. I don’t know why but something pulled me back to Tumblr for this rant. Perhaps it’s a full circle moment that my younger self needs. And in true double Pisces fashion, a bitch is in love. But for real this time and like what? I honestly had given up and gotten comfortable with the idea of long term single-hood. I was prepared to birth babies on my own. How sad is that? But also, how naive of me to think that I’d want to go on such a journey alone.

Life has a funny way of showing us the signs along the way yet we continue to ignore them all. I’ve spent much of my twenties straddling between “fuck this shit” and working for the life I want. I’ve seen more of the world than I ever truly imagined I would. I’ve loved so many people, platonically and romantically. My whole world felt like it was crumbling so many times and I’m sure it may again feel that way when I come down from this high but right now, I don’t mind being a bit foolish. I never thought I’d find someone as open to evolving as me. Someone so refreshingly honest and committed to growth. Someone not afraid to call me on my bullshit but in the gentlest way as to not shatter my fragile Piscesan heart. There is so much tenderness and care here that I never knew was possible.

The wildest part is my love has been right here all along and for the longest time I thought we were incompatible. In actuality, we had our walls built up to the damn skies for nearly a decade, but finally they came crashing down like levees and the vulnerabilities came pouring in. I’m not even sure who spint the block this time but I’m grateful for the doubling-back. I always thought it was corny when couples claimed to be best friends. I still think some of y’all niggas lying because how you best friends with a misogynist? a homophobe? a jealous, possessor? Anwayyyyy.

Now I know what the girlies mean. I never want to be without him, but I know that if we separate for any reason, we’d forever be connected in spirit. An infinite bond that goes beyond anything we could ever experience in this physical realm. I have an overwhelming feeling that I’d still choose him in every single lifetime, even if not as lovers. I hope that this life and this love only get sweeter and more expansive from here. Although, I’m prepared to meet the sour moments as they come. If I died tomorrow, I’d be so happy that I got to experience a love like this. One that is honest, true, selfless, and free. A love that cocoons me just when the world seems to be caving in. One that feels like summer, year-round.

There are no butterflies here, only bees buzzing to bloom a new world of you and I. A honeycomb sits in the pit of my belly, and you, too. A sweet-nectar waiting to make a sticky fool out of us for being brave enough to call each other ‘the one’, knowing it to be only half true. No matter how many lovers come and go, I’ll never stop choosing you.

[comfortscripts]

May I Have This Dance? ¬ Steve Rogers

Plot - After retiring his shield, Steve's partner realises that he seems to be missing something.

Requested? Yes/No

Genre - ☁️️Fluff ☁️️

Note/Warning - Steve didn't return to Peggy after Endgame (I refuse to accept that ending honestly), I think this is GN but please let me know if I have used fem!pronouns, also the reader wears a dress in this so if you are uncomfortable with that be aware.

Word Count - 1.7k

After your husband Steve retired from the superhero living, life seemed dull in his eyes. You could see that his once vibrant baby blues had lost their sparkle, their joy for life.

Whilst him having more time meant that your relationship thrived, Steve was missing something and you were missing him being truly happy.

It was Sunday and a rule of the Rogers relationship is that Sunday was an "Old School Day".

No technology, no going to the city and no current news or media of any kind.

It took a while to get use to but you soon learned to love it because it meant that you had the whole day with your soulmate, no distractions. But today was different, there was one thing that had taken up your entire focus all day.

A few days prior, you were in line at the supermarket when you spotted a flyer.

DANCE YOURSELF BACK TO THE 40s!

Have you ever wondered what a 40s dance was like?

Well if the answer is yes, get yourself down to the Michaelton Hall this Sunday at 7:30pm

The cashier was a motherly looking woman in her late 60s named Dorothy, her family had owned the supermarket here since the 1920s and being a cashier here was her first job. Twice a week she would come down and "relive her youth" as her husband always jokes.

"I thought that might catch your eye" Dorothy spoke after watching you inspect the flyer. "The old music, the clothes and just that feeling of a simpler time. I'm hoping to convince William to take me but getting him to dress up like a princess is more likely than getting him to dance."

You laugh at the woman's joke but mainly at the idea of William in a frilly dress. William and Dorothy had been married for 52 years but the only time William ever danced with her was on their wedding night, a story that you thought was sad but Dora took it in her stride.

"Well I am thinking that this might be a good way to get Steve out of his funk, even for only a night" You say with a wistful look on your face whilst piling fruit into your shopping bag.

"What a wonderful idea my dear!" Dorothy exclaimed whilst scanning the final item "There is a quaint little vintage store about half a mile out of town, I am sure you'd find a dress to knock Steve's socks off"

Smiling at the woman, you hand her some cash before taking one last look at the flyer "You are like a fairy godmother Dora. Have a lovely day and hopefully see you at the dance".

By the next morning, you were keen to start prepping for the Sunday surprise. Giving your husband a kiss goodbye, you headed off to 'run some errands'.

First stop was buying the tickets, then that left you with finding the perfect 40s dress.

You headed out of town to the vintage store Dorothy mentioned but you were not prepared for how beautiful the shop was. Flowers in corners all over the place, fairy-lights decorated the clothing racks and old pieces of sparkling jewellery was displayed throughout the store.

You could have spent hours in there, it felt like a visual time machine but it seemed luck was on your side. As you strolled further into the store, you noticed a stunning pastel floor-length satin dress with light embellishments near the sleeves. That was exactly what you needed.

Everything was ready. Tickets were bought, dress was found and Steve's old military suit was ready to be worn. All you had to do now was keep it from your husband till Sunday.

Making it to Sunday evening was difficult, you had nearly exposed the plans twice but thankfully Steve believed the excuses you came up with. But now it was time to get ready.

"My love, guess what I found the other day in the attic" You call out to your super-solider husband. "Your old army uniform. Perfect condition as well".

Handing the outfit to Steve, you see his eyes light up with the memories of his time back in the 1940s. Although he looked only slightly older than he did the last time he wore it, it was like looking back in time.

"Wow, I didn't think I would ever see this again." He spoke caressing the material.

"Steve, do you think you could maybe try it on again? I would love to have a glimpse of what use to be the fashion" You asked carefully, trying to make sure he didn't suspect anything else.

A small smile graced his face. "Of course, I probably would have wanted to try it on either way" And with a laugh, he headed upstairs to suit up.

Whilst the super-solider was getting ready, you slipped into your dress and quickly slipped on an oversized shirt which made it look like you were wearing a long skirt and t-shirt. Applying a bit of makeup before double checking that your purse was ready with the tickets, car keys and some other essentials.

Hearing footsteps descend your staircase, you turn around to a fully suited and confident looking Steve Rogers. This man has managed to make you fall more in love every day for the past 6 years but in this moment, he took your breath away.

"You look so handsome. How did I ever get lucky enough to call you my husband?" You express as you reach up to lay the corner of his collar down. Even though you compliment your husband all the time, Steve still flushes a bit red at the sweet words.

Leaning in to give him a small kiss, you suddenly remember that you are on a time constraint. You pull back with a mischievous grin dancing on your face.

"Oh no, I know that face. What have you done?" Steve asks with a little chuckle. Instead of responding, you grab his hand and head out to the car. After instructing him to get into the passenger seat, you settle yourself in the driver's seat and start the car whilst Steve sits beside you watching like he was trying to solve a puzzle - the puzzle being you.

"I have a surprise for you but I am going to need you to put this blindfold on whilst I drive us there" With a grin on your face and your hand offering a silk blue blindfold to your incredibly confused but handsome husband.

Cautiously Steve reaches for the blindfold and puts it on, he would trust you with his life so why not trust you with a small surprise.

After driving for 15 minutes or so, Steve feels the car stop and turn off.

"Wait one second" You say before he hears you open your door.

Bubbling with excitement you quickly discard of your t-shirt, place some kitten heels on and apply a sultry shade of red on your lips before throwing anything you don't need in the trunk.

Walking over to Steve's side of the car, you calm your nerves slightly with a deep breathe. Opening the passenger door, you take a hold of Steve's hand and carefully guide him towards the entrance of the hall.

Sounds of Moonlight Serenade songs fill his ears as he enters, still completely oblivious to his partner's scheme. He notices that it is far warmer in this area and that he can smell a mix of perfume and whiskey.

"Okay baby, when I count to 3, you can take off your blindfold" You finally say.

"1"

"2"

"3"

As Steve removes the silk blocking his vision and is immediately hit with a feeling of nostalgia. The hall looked like something out of his memories; men and women dressed in 40s fashion dancing the night away, a small band playing all the most popular songs from the decade he yearned for, men who reminded him of Bucky trying to pick up girls at the bar.

Steve thought that he was blown away until he saw his Y/N. The person who made life worth living, who made everything seem light again. There they stood, looking like they had just walked off the silver screen from an old movie. Steve never really believed that he could live such a happy life but somewhere along the way, he must have done something right because now he is married to an angel.

Walking up to you, he placed his hands on your waist and looked deep into your eyes. Drowning in Steve's ocean blue eyes was a favourite past-time of yours but this felt more than that.

"I noticed you have been a bit down since you gave up the shield and I couldn't see you frown anymore." You whisper quietly as if you were nervous that this plan wouldn't work.

"I know I say it constantly but I love you, Y/N Rogers. Your kindness, your care, your effortless beauty, you." Steve recited, filling every word with pure love and appreciation. "Sometimes I think that I am no one if I am not Captain America or I don't belong in this world but you. You, Y/N, you made me realise that you are my home, not the past. You are the only one I need in this life-time or any other life-time because you taught me who I am beyond the shield."

Tears start to well up in your eyes as you hang off his every word.

"This dance is amazing but what makes me happy is that I get to spend tonight and every night with my soulmate" Steve takes a step back and extends his hand. "So, may I have this dance my darling?"

Reaching for his hand, you make your way onto the dance floor amongst the other couples. As the song dies down, Stella by Frank Sinatra starts filling the hall with a romantic atmosphere and you feel Steve place his hand on your hip before placing another in your hand. This was truly a night to remember.

As you sway with your husband, you let your eyes wander to the other dancing couples and near the centre of the dance floor, you spot Dorothy and William smiling and swaying like teenagers again.

All you can do is hope that you and Steve will be dancing together when you are old and grey.

[the-tiniest-one]

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.