#his broken ugly sobs at Via leaving broke me

[meraki-yao]

Bryce's performance this episode was top tier, I really wanna see his behind-the-scenes for it

[theravenouswriter514]

Day Nineteen of the 30 Day Writing Challenge

The prompt for today is, “Write about your first love.”

One problem that I have with this one is that I haven’t ever had a “first love.” I’m twenty, turning twenty-one, and I have never so much as had my first kiss. Pretty pathetic, huh? It is by most of today’s social standards anyway. Fourteen-year-olds get on the internet now bragging about going to parties and hooking up while I sit patiently waiting for my first love to show their face. I haven’t had a first love in the conventional way that this prompt is looking for, but I do have a story for the first time I ever knew I loved someone and they loved me back. I’ll tell it instead.

I’m going to start this story with a crushing heartbreak, then I’ll back track. It was Thanksgiving Day of 2018. I was sitting around with the rest of my family at my grandma’s house, rubbing my tummy after over eating all of the good food from the day. It was past dark, and we were doing what we usually do when my family gathers, bullshitting. If you’re from Tennessee or similar regions of the south, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. I can’t speak for the northern or western states, but in the south when we say we are “bullshitting” it essentially means that we’re telling stories with a lot of lies, and calling each other out through sarcasm. It is always a relaxing thing for my family, because if we aren’t bullshitting with each other, then something is seriously wrong. 

Anyway, my mom gets a call from my friend’s mom and steps out onto the porch to answer it. This isn’t unusual; my friend’s mom and my mom were friends and they spoke often. When my mom stepped back inside with the phone held out to me is when I knew something was off. I took it from her and heard muffled cries from the other end. I knew the voice well, because she and I had laughed and cried together on numerous occasions before. It was my best friend, pitifully crying and blubbering about how much she was hurting. I couldn’t understand much of what she said, because the poor girl couldn’t stop heaving with sobs long enough to get a word out clearly. Through a best friend’s intuition and my ability to put broken words together, I understood exactly what had happened. She had been dumped. Her rotten boyfriend, who she had been with since our junior year of high school, had dumped her directly after she had eaten Thanksgiving dinner with his family. She had put so much effort into taking care of this no good boy all the way through the relationship. She had bought his school supplies, paid for their food, even bought him a whole new wardrobe because she knew he couldn’t afford it. I suppose I should be a little easier on this kid; he came from a pretty rough home life. His mom ran out on him and his dad was disabled. They weren’t able to afford many things. That doesn’t excuse anyone from being a total dickweed, and it certainly doesn’t excuse him from breaking my best friend’s heart. 

I did my best to comfort her via phone call, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. She was devastated to the core. Even before I hung up the phone with her, my mom already had her shoes and coat on ready to go out the door. She is the real hero of this story. She and I hurried directly over to her house, both of our stomaches hurting with worry for her. My mom loved her like a daughter. We had been friends since the first day of band camp our freshman year of high school. Most of the time it just felt like we’d always been friends. I can’t remember a time without her now, because the time before I met her was full of bullies and fake friends who broke my heart. My stomach, however, was feeling a little more than the usual worry at the time. My immediate reaction to her devastation was to go over and show this boy a little of my temper that I inherited from my dad’s side of the family. I knew exactly where he lived, and I was ready for a fight. My mom, being the voice of reason, insisted that that wasn’t what my friend (we’ll call her K) needed from me. She needed a pick me up. Someone to show her that the world hadn’t ended. 

I walked right into the house and plopped next to her on the couch. K is a very small and energetic girl. I have always compared her to a little lap dog. The poor girl was curled up with her face buried deep into a pillow. She didn’t raise up or even acknowledge my presence at first, except for the occasional “It hurts, J!” in between cries of pain. I’ve never been one to find it easy to show affection. It takes me a long time to warm up to someone before I’m comfortable hugging or showing any kind of physical affection, but K had long since won me over in that sense. She was a cuddler.

I pried her little arms from around the pillow that she clung to and wrapped them around me, just craddling her for a moment. When she had eventually stopped crying enough to catch her breath, I picked her up off the couch and made her stand. I wanted her to feel that there was still ground beneath her feet. That the world had not stopped spinning. There is no way of knowing exactly what I said to her that night, but I do remember that I refused to leave her in that house to sulk. I loaded her into my mom’s car and we headed back over to my grandma’s house to give her a proper Thanksgiving dinner that wouldn’t be ruined with a break up. My older cousin and I spent the majority of the rest of the night convincing her that she would feel okay again soon. That things wouldn’t suck forever. It took a few weeks, maybe a month, but she eventually believed us. She moved on and began to recognize just how toxic he had been. I never did give him a piece of my rage, even though I had plenty of opportunities to. I was convinced by a few sources that I was better than that. 

I tell you that story to tell you this, that relationship, in the long run, meant nothing. She was so devastated over a relationship that had been rocky from the beginning. The real relationship that she had had all along was the one she had with me. I know that sounds really narcissistic, but let me explain. All the way through high school, and especially through her relationship with the dickweed, she and I had been closer than any couple. After helping to lift her back onto her feet from the break up is when I really began to notice it. We held hands, cuddled, shared food, even showered in front of each other far more than she and her former beau had. People around the school were often convinced that she and I were a couple as opposed to she and her real boyfriend. We didn’t mind if anyone thought we were dating, because we loved each other. She had been there for every weird or stupid heartache that I had gone through and vice versa. She had lifted me and I had lifted her. 

I really began to think about love around prom time. I hadn’t managed to snag a date. The guy I liked, who I thought liked me back, had stood me up on multiple occasions and I was ready to just give up on it all. Then I began to think about all the times she had been there for me. The times she had lifted me up when I was on the ground. The times she had rushed over to help me when I needed it. I watched as she left her trash boyfriend sitting at a table to dance with me at the prom. Later I watched as she surprised me with visits to my house with goody baskets and movies after I told her I didn’t feel good. I saw her go to concerts with me and listen to me scream my little teenage head off. In seeing all these things come together, I saw what love really was. Love didn’t have to be kissing in the moonlight with fireworks in the background as if in some Hallmark movie, like my young self had once believed. It was simpler than that. It was seeing each other with ugly crying, snotty faces and still giving hugs. It was watching each other do dumb shit, and joining in with the other so no one was alone in stupidity. It was making each other stand tall when someone caused our shoulders to slump. It was clinging to one another as we walked through haunted houses, screaming our heads off then laughing about it. It was calling her first when my house burnt. It was me helping her move when her parents divorced. It was just being with one another. Wanting to be with one another even in rough times. Even when we weren’t with each other physically, we knew each of us were there spiritually. 

I see and speak to her far too little now-a-days. We are both on our own paths to success, not growing apart, but growing separately. She lives one state over, going to university. She has a new beau and a whole other friend group now. And yet she and I pick right back up where we left off when we do get in contact. Nothing has really changed except the amount of time we spend together. When we are together, any time I want to hold her hand, she gladly gives it to me. Whenever she feels like cuddling, my arms are wide open. If I cry at a movie, she cries with me. If she stresses about classes, I listen to her rambles. The very same level of love, that has always been there, is still very much present today. We say it as much as we can, to remind each other that it’s still true. She loves me and I love her. 

So I guess you could say that I have had a first love. It’s platonic, but it’s just as important as any other that I’ll experience. This love she and I have is everlasting and will exist far into our grey years when we are thinking back to our glory days. I’d say that this first love is even more important than any first fling I’ll ever have with a significant other. It’ll certainly remain higher on my priority list. 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Match Made in Heaven

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Now broken hearted, you never thought you'd still care for the man who hurt you. But you get a call from Steve saying that your ex boyfriend has been shot. Warning: character death Bucky broke your heart. You never thought he would, but he did. He called you ugly, useless, worthless, and wreckless. He pointed out all the things you were insecure about. You felt betrayed. As a result, you decided to leave. You gave up on Bucky and the Avenger life. You were just sitting and watching tv, when you got a call from Steve: "Y/N! It's Bucky. He-He's been shot! You need to ge-" You clenched your fists as you said, "I don't care, Steve." Steve groaned in frustration, "No, Y/N, listen to me! You don't understand! He-" You stood up from you couch and yelled into the phone, "I don't give a rat's ass about Barnes, okay?!" You hung up. The rage filled you again....but also worry. Despite what you told Steve, you still cared for Bucky very much. No matter how much he hurt you, a large part of you still loved him endlessly. You gave a big sigh and decided to make your way to the tower. As soon as you stepped out of your apartment, you were greeted to traffic. There was no way you were going to make it to Bucky via car. So running it is. You were too engrossed in your worrying thoughts of Bucky that you didn't see a car that was running a red light come towards you. Your last thought was of Bucky. +++ Steve walked back into the medbay as Bucky was breathing heavily trying to hold onto his last breath. Bucky looked at him expectedly. Steve shook his head and Bucky gave a big, painful exhale, "I deserve this. I shouldn't have hurt her." A tear escaped his his eye. "Buck, stop it. You're gonna get through it." "I can't hold on any longer, Stevie. I guess I'll just have to die knowing that she hated me. I deserve it after all." Tears started falling from Steve's eyes, "No. Buck-" "Take care of yourself, pal." Bucky gave a small, painful smile to his best friend. He closed his eyes and whispered, "I love you, Y/N," and succumbed to the darkness. +++ Everything around you was so...heavenly. It was bright and warm and perfect. You were currently laying in a clearing. The sun shining down on you as you laid on your stomach reading. When Bucky arrived at the gates, he looked at himself. No longer was he donning his tactical gear. But he was wearing a white button up with white jeans. He stepped forward and Heaven's gates opened for him. He couldn't help but give a small sob. For everything that he's done, he never imagined himself to end up in Heaven. As soon as he walked in, his eyes landed on a figure in a clearing. He cautiously walked towards the figure. It started to become clear that the figure was you. His heart dropped a little. No, it couldn't be. "Y/N?" He called out cautiously. He watched your body stiffen and sat up turning to him. Your breath was caught in your throat, "B-Bucky?" "You can't be here. You shouldn't-are you-" You slowly nodded and Bucky collapsed onto his knees in the clearing. You knelt in front of him. His hair curtained his face, "How? Steve just talked to you before I-" "I was hit by a car. I was running to see you." Bucky lifted up his head and looked at you through watery eyes, " But Steve said you didn't care." You shook your head, "I always cared about you. I know what I said but my heart was telling me to come see you and I guess I died with you thinking that I still hated you." "You died because of me-" "Bucky-" "I was wreckless. I got shot. I was dying and you ended up dying because I was stupid enough to not pay attention and got myself shot." You held Bucky's face in both of your hands, "Hey, stop it. What's done is done. I'm here. You're here. We can be happy and together now. Forget what happened on Earth. I still love you." Bucky looked into your eyes, "And I still love you. I always did." You leaned in and gave Bucky a longing kiss, "This is a new start for us, Bucky. The start of forever."