#in my friends' lives. and nobody is expected to respond to vents at all. it's a place to blow off steam and other people can chime in of-

[gaythreadrunner]

im going to be real posts that say discord vent channels are horrible no matter what even if it's in a small closed off friend circle really irk me. like yeah i don't care for them in big servers either but if your circle of friends is treating a vent channel like a therapy circle where others are obligated to look and respond instead of a low pressure ranting space to get shit off your chest where people have the Choice to respond i think you have bigger things to worry about in those friendships. also you can just mute and hide them or make an opt in role if they bother you that much

[bamgyw]

i’m so sorry for this rant in advance😭. for a little backstory i’m 20 and i’ve been with my boyfriend since i was 15. he is pretty much perfect. he is supportive of my passions, he is understanding, he is sweet, and we have sooo much in common. lately ive been feeling extra lost and down due to (most likely) going off of anti depressants that i have also been on for 5 years. i feel very confused about who i am and also have been disassociating which is something ive never experienced before. ugh im so sorry this is getting so deep😭. i really do love him but im just so confused on if i’m IN love with him anymore. i mean we try to be intimate but the past few years due to body changes and stuff it’s really hard for me to find pleasure in it. when i read fictional things i definitely enjoy that (thanks father rey🫡) but it’s so hard when it’s actually real life. in the past i’ve also become like infatuated or had “crushes” on other people during our relationship but obviously of course never acted EVER on these feelings. when i would look things up people would say these things are normal so i would try not to dwell on it. but right now there is nobody that i have feelings for (at least that’s real or someone i know) yet i still feel distant from my boyfriend. our lives are so intertwined in literally every aspect and we have so many memories together. i can’t possibly imagine my life without him and it scares me thinking of a future where he isn’t the one that i’m with. life would be so different than what it has been and he is my best friend as well. the thought of us not being together devastates me. even with all of these things i can’t help but imagine my life sometimes if i were to be with other people or just be single and move some where across the world and live all of these unrealistic dreams that i have. sometimes i feel like i’m settling. not because he isn’t good enough but because it’s the exact opposite. he is too good and deserves all the love in the world. i want to be in love with him so badly. i just don’t know if i am anymore. like are these fleeting feelings that will go away or is this just my mental illness speaking?? i don’t know anything anymore. all that i know if that I actually just don’t know anything at all anymore. everything hurts so much. being an infp on top of this makes it so much worse😩. i’m not even expecting you to know an answer to this of course but i haven’t even told anyone in my life the way i’ve been feeling. i’m scared that if i say it out loud things will change. i just hurt so much every single day and this has been going on for over a month now. somehow it feels like an eternity though. thank you for taking the time to even read or respond to this😭❤️

well first off, breathe and take this virtual kiss on your forehead. mwah. this is painfully complex, which makes it very human, too. and that is good. it means we're alive and functioning. i promise that all this hurt won't last forever. it never does. we got this !!

i'm sorry for taking so long to reply to you :(, i wanted my thoughts to be somewhat meditated so i could make sense and be as helpful as humanly possible.

also, please don't apologise. you all keep apologising when you think you're bothering me or annoying me or sending asks too long WHICH IS NEVER TRUE so yeah, there's none of that in reyville. we're all really cool no matter what.

and if only the act of sharing this has been useful in the slightest, even just for the relief value of venting, then it was more than worth it and i'm really glad you did !!

first thing is the going off meds. antidepressants are bitch. i don't know which ones you were taking specifically, but usually what they do is numb you out instead of taking away your pain, right? they don't make you feel less shitty, just limit your ability to feel at all. which is fucked up, because the day you stop taking them all the pain comes to you at once. and you don't know what to do with yourself and you feel miserable and you don't even know why.

so. i'm no one and i know nothing. still. i am your friend from the internet, which is a sacred bestie bond, so i'm gonna try to be as honest as i possibly can.

but ultimately you're the person who knows yourself the best (you're literally you), so the wisest and most valuable opinion is always your own, which is fucking scary because freedom is a prison. but you're cool and i trust you, so.

so (and again, i'm not a psychiatrist i'm a rando on the internet), i think you're right when you say that going off the meds might be a reason why you're in so much pain. you need to be patient and allow your brain some time to balance the chemicals and get used to working on its own.

but beyond that, you're feeling shitty and lost, which absolutely fucking sucks. your pain is here and widespread and tangible and so we need to cope with that now !!

when you talk about that inability to feel pleasure, again, mental illness is literally crippling. so you shouldn't press yourself about not being able to enjoy getting intimate with your boyfriend. just take your time and get comfortable with yourself first.

and don't get the concepts of love and attraction confused !! you struggling a little to get turned on does absolutely not mean that you love him any less. asexual people exist, and they date and get married !!

love comes in so many different ways, even within one person. so don't be scared because things aren't as they used to. even if you were feeling great emotionally, things like this happen all the time and it's alright !! your libido might not always be on the high, and so what? and with all that's going on inside your head, it's understandable that you can't enjoy getting intimate.

i feel like i can't advise you to tell your boyfriend about this because i don't really know him and i don't know how he would react. but you do know him !! so if you trust him and you think it's safe, in time and whenever you're comfortable, talk to him. your mental health is your right and duty, but this involves him as well, so maybe he deserves to know. (and he definitely will be able to help you. more than me, at least).

the precise point of it being not real is that there is no risk, nothing to lose. you're allowed to be at your most open and comfortable. that's why fic writing is often brought up in conversations about feminist sexual liberation, because in real life there are little to none safe spaces for girls. so they, we (assuming that you share this experience) wouldn't get a chance to explore our sexuality were it not for fiction. (i rambled i'm sorry).

still, i don't think your libido is entirely broken? you mentioned only getting turned on by fiction, but that's literally so common. if it weren't, the idol industry would totally crumble.

it's pretty simple, in fiction there's no danger to the relationship, no actual commitment and no threat of failure. it's not real, it has no effect in your life. so all those worries that clog up your brain in real life and that paralyse you—do i still love him, do i love him like he deserves, what would i do without him— those ugly but very necessary parts of a relationship are just gone.

that's the beauty of literature of any genre, it's a chance to try and fail without real consequences. an exploration.

but it can also be a great source of dissatisfaction, when real life feels dull and not enough. there's a beauty to that dullness too, though sometimes it is a little harder to see. that's where the deep bond with your boyfriend comes to play.

there's the line (this is stupid, sorry, it just reminded me of it) in the intro to the new ariana grande album. "how can i tell if i'm in the right relationship? aren't you really supposed to know that shit? feel it in your bones and own that shit?"

you mentioned he's your best friend, and i think that's so cherishable. personally, i value having someone to share life with so much, (i'm terrified of being alone, and now i'm supposed to insert some lame joke to make it goofy) but i also understand that great fear of not being satisfied in that kind of traditional, unbreakable concept of relationship.

i think fear of commitment is so much deeper than people usually make it out to be. he's perfect, but is he perfect for me? no one is ever gonna make me feel this safe and loved, but also, why does it feel like it's not enough? it fucking sucks.

but there's so many external things that can be triggering all those thoughts. things neither you nor your boyfriend can control.

there's the antidepressants. there's the fact that you've been with your boyfriend since you were fifteen?? that's so fucking young, you were babies !! you don't know how to live a life without your boyfriend because you practically never have. there's the combination of everything that just results in that anxiety storm which might also be causing you to wanna run away and live a completely different life !!

whatever you do, just remember that there's no such thing as a bad choice. you have a right to be curious and want to explore other ways of life, and you also have a right to look for stability with your boyfriend. they're both scary, and there's a lot of pondering to do. but i believe in you !!

your boyfriend is so important, and he deserves all the best. but the best is almost never pretending that everything's going fine so that he doesn't get upset. loving him like he deserves might mean talking to him earnestly about everything you're feeling, or even a sincere break up.

and please don't take this as me encouraging you to break up with him. only you know if that's the right choice. i just want you to walk without guilt into whatever path you think it's the right one.

as you think about all this, love yourself a lot. that'll make everything easier. (cliché but true) you need integrity and a lot of self-respect to make the best possible decisions, for you and for everyone you love.

please try to not get anxious. to keep your head a little cold and your heart calm. if not, your fears will turn into these irrational bloodthirsty monsters and every decision will feel like it's life or death. it's not, it's gonna be okay.

talk to yourself as you would talk to dear friend, be supportive of yourself. sometimes it even helps to put yourself in a third person pov and think about your problems as if they were happening to a character !! (again, the holy power of story).

and don't hesitate to send in as many asks as you need and talk to me about anything !!

i hope i didn't make too many stupid points during this long ass speech, and i hope i didn't tell you too many things you already knew. i really want you to feel better, and i trust that you will.

be strong !! a hundred thousand kisses.

[moonjxsung]

hi, my lovely.

dont ever apologise for a delayed response! i promise you, i dont hold it against you. I dont expect you to be manning your inbox at ever minute of every hour of every day when you have a whole life to live offline so please dont feel bad if you take a moment to respond. in all seriousness, I'm just thankful for a response because I know it can be draining sometimes going through messages but also I know not every thing is sunshine and roses so it's not always easy to muster up a response. and yet you still take the time to make everyone feel seen, heard, and acknowledged, and i can assure you we all appreciate it. so don't feel bad for a slight delay.

apologies for that rant 😅

as for how i've been, i think I've just been trying to pick myself back up lately. i'm not completely there yet but I'm working on it. it's been a bit of a tough moment for me this year in several aspects but somehow, it's also been the easiest year I've had in a while so idk what to say about that. anyways, thank you for replying to my previous message - I really appreciated it - it made me feel a little less... I guess guilty or insane? about it. so thank you.

thank you again, honestly. it feels so validating reading your response. I've always kinda been the "mum" friend or the "therapy" friend and it was fine at first until my shoulders got so heavy from the weight of everyone's world plus my own and i just felt like I was stranded, with no one to turn to, no place to go. and I know somewhere that thats not true. but when you're stuck in the role for so long, where you've had to swallow your problems, it gets hard to feel like you can let them out.

ah this is getting a bit depressing so I'll stop. I'm sorry about that.

actually, the other day, i had this thought which i'll sum up for you in a separate thing because I realised this one is getting a bit long (sorry once again but also thank you) - don't feel pressured to reply though!

Oh before I sign off, I saw you have a girlfriend!! Congratulations! I wish you both so much love and happiness together 🩷 I hope you have a great week, my lovely. and stay safe and healthy xx

-🦁

Hey my lovely angel!!!!

don’t feel the need to apologize for ranting or needing to get something off your chest on here. I totally understand needing to let your feelings out once in a while, and I think it’s a really lovely thing that we’re able to communicate so freely on here without any judgement. I’m always here to listen to anything you guys have to get off your chest, and it’s always my goal to make you guys feel listened to, so I’m glad to hear that you feel that way about this blog 🥹

It can be REALLY difficult to feel like you’re the established “mom friend” of a group. Or any established role in your friend group, for that matter. Mt sister is often the “mom friend”, I feel like I’m often the “funny friend”, but in assuming those roles our problems can be so minimized and just taken less seriously overall. I’ve said so many times to people in my life that I feel like I’m generally less liked when I’m not performing or cracking jokes for my friends, and my friends will usually just distance themselves until I’m feeling better. When I started medication and became a more serious person as a whole, I didn’t know who to go to about my problems, because it felt like nobody cared for this new personality of mine. That’s when I really learned that I was fully capable of learning to appreciate my alone time, and that I’m the only one who’s going to understand it from this perspective. That’s not to villainize my friends of course, but we have to give credit to ourselves when we have these mental slumps. You’re the only one who can FULLY be there for yourself, so find some comfort in the loneliness. You can always vent to me on here or on discord, you can always reach out to anyone else in my server or my side blog or whatever safe space makes you feel most comfortable. And even if you don’t have anyone tangible in real life to turn to, there’s always a space for you here.

Sending you so much love my angel ❣️let your emoji anon sign off be a sign of your own personality, strong and resilient like a lion 🦁 I think of that every time you send a message on here 🥹💓

Also thank you for the well wishes!!!! Have the best week my lovely. Make sure to take care of yourself 🫶 you are so so so loved in whatever role you play in this lifetime, but the most important thing is that you’re here

[themculibrary]

Thor Has An Obsession With Pop-Tarts Masterlist

a friendly competition (ao3) - maidenofearth T, 2k

Summary: The scientist took a deep, slow breath, shutting his eyes. He opened them, and pursed his lips.

“When I was in India, the locals showed me how to make this dish they call pani puri. I miss eating it, plus I'd like you all to try it too,” Bruce finally said softly.

Thor grinned, “I would definitely like to taste this wonderful dish you speak of, my friend!”

The team shared smiles.

It's a gray evening in Avengers Tower, and the team are arguing about what to eat. Bruce suggests some pani puri, and thus ensues chaos.

Apple Juice and Poptarts (ao3) - Orpheus_I_Dont_Feel_So_Good G, 1k

Summary: Nobody knows where Clint's apple juice keeps going. Nobody knows where Thor's poptarts keep going.

Nobody knows about Peter Parker.

Appropriation (fanfiction.net) - The Third Marauder T, 5k

Summary: The one in which a territorial Loki becomes an instructor at the SHIELD Academy. It takes everyone some time to... adapt... to the new situation.

Behold The Magic Food Machine (It's A Toaster, Thor) (ao3) - Loki Is Not Low Key (RichardGraysonPercyJackson) G, 821

Summary: Thor loves pop-tarts. His brother has never seen a pop-tart, nor the magical machine which creates them.

So of course, he takes one back to Asgard.

It goes about as well as expected.

Early Breakfast (fanfiction.net) - Chocolate X My Mouth clint/natasha K+, 1k

Summary: Okay... this shouldn't have been too hard. All Clint wanted to do was sneak through the vents, make his way into the kitchen, and have an early breakfast. Not too hard, right? You'd think so - until you remember who you live with. An early breakfast essentially means a team meeting - at least they're all having a good time.

Lend Me A Hand (ao3) - Not_a_Hobbit (Byelial) T, 1k

Summary: A meeting at Avengers Tower quickly turns to chaos, and Steve asks Bucky to help him re-establish order. Bucky, however, responds in his own, less-than-humorous way.

Louder Than Words (ao3) - ARGHHHHHH steve/tony G, 858

Summary: Domestic Avengers movie night, post 2012 Avengers.

Masquerade (ao3) - HelenaAzure loki/svadilfari G, 20k

Summary: Masquerade (verb): to assume the appearance of something one is not

After a mission goes horribly wrong, the masqueraded past comes back to haunt Loki and Thor. Are the bonds of friendship, family and brotherhood strong enough to withstand the horrors of the past, or will the house of Odin crumble once more under the weight of its secrets and deception?

Pantry Raid (fanfiction.net) - PathBeater pepper/tony K, 1k

Summary: Hawkeye and Thor's midnight snack run is foiled by the Tower's resident mom. Nice, fluffy one shot with a little Pepperony at the end.

PopTarts (fanfiction.net) - YankeeGirl28 T, 2k

Summary: Loki wasn't the only god Barton told everything to. Rated because Tony Stark really has a way with words.

Pop-Tarts (ao3) - Shadowstar T, 1k

Summary: What it comes down to is the need to know the most important question in the universe: Which flavor of Pop-Tart is the best?

The Food of the Gods (ao3) - imkerfuffled G, 986

Summary: 1. Tony is not allowed to replace the entire contents of the cafeteria with pop-tarts just because Thor has declared them the ‘food of the gods.’

Thor and the Midgard Objects (fanfiction.net) - AnuhdahPerson K, 14k

Summary: Thor has been banished and sent to Earth to learn humiliation. So how's he managing with Earth's surprises?

Walmart? I've Come To Bargain (ao3) - Brentinator G, 2k

Summary: "I have a monthly bet with Wong. We go to different stores in the same chain and see who can find the better savings. The winner gets to choose where the products we don't use get donated."

[literaticat]

My critique partner's debut went live on the ARC sites recently and it's getting absolutely slammed by reviewers. Do you have any advice for how to be a good writer friend when this happens?

Sometimes if a book I love gets a lousy review, I look up MY FAVORITE all time books. Classics, like Where the Wild Things Are or something. Books that WE KNOW are great. I read those one-star reviews. And I realize - you can't please everyone, and lots of people are just plain wrong AND stupid. And the more people you reach, the more likely it is that stupid wrong people will get into your orbit. And Maurice Sendak did not give two f**ks if Norman Q from Oklahoma City thought the Wild Things were satanic. He would have laughed, I'm certain. The more of these you read, the funnier they get, and that helps me put this nonsense into perspective.

Anyway. On to your question. So you, as a friend, can, of course, write a NICE review to counter-act the negative ones, and enlist other people who have read and liked the book to do so. After all -- if YOU like the book, and other people liked the book enough to want to acquire and publish it, presumably it's NOT hot garbáge, so surely there are people who will want to say nice things!

And if any reviews truly are just dog piling / bashing the author / bullying or something like that, report them if there is a way to do so. Like I've had situations a couple times where an extreme right-wing pastor or somebody talked about one of my books, and sent all their minions to flood us with bad reviews, and we were able to report and get the most egregious ones where they clearly hadn't even LOOKED at the book taken down.

Meanwhile, if your friend wants to vent, let them do that -- but also gently let them know it's a limited time event. You can and should be compassionate, but you can't really be expected to hear endless complaints about this for the next however-long, that's not fair to you, and certainly unhealthy for them. I'd propose something like, "How about we have a friends weekend where stay OFF the internet, eat ice cream and drink margaritas, go to a scream room or whatever, ceremonially block all review sites together, then go to a spa and emerge refreshed, relaxed, and ready for a fresh start."

It's like a breakup or something, IMO - yes absolutely they should punch that pillow, get those feelings out, do some self-care -- but then they just have to pull their pants up and move forward, they can't wallow around indefinitely.

The thing is, reviews aren't FOR authors. If you are a thin-skinned person, as many authors are, you should not be looking at them AT ALL, actually (and it shouldn't need to be said, but you FOR SURE should NEVER respond to them!!!) - If I were an author, I would block those sites like they are X-Rated and I'm both a sheltered child AND a helicopter parent.

I know authors who get stressed and upset or obsessed when there is ONE slightly negative line in an otherwise glowing review -- they don't see the glowing part at all, they can only see the negative shining like a beacon -- so of course, actually-lousy reviews really suck to get.

However. There's an upside . . . which is hard to believe if you are in a bad head-space, but is actually true . . .

If you are getting reviews... positive or negative... that means you are getting READ, and people are invested enough to actually say something. Most books actually DON'T get read, or nobody cares enough to review them. So if your book is getting read AND provoking an emotional response from people, enough so that they are moved to actually write a review, that's actually better than nobody even looking at it at all. Because one person's 'ick' is another person's favorite thing. And your book is much more likely to find THOSE people if it is actually out there, circulating and being talked about. Reaching those readers is what it's all about.

[pendularium]

vaugeposting about one of my closest friends on a site he doesn't use just because I need to get this out and I don't really want any actual advice on what to do thank you very much

in case anyone actually does run into this and read it (unlikely) depression&suicidal ideation warnings I guess

I'm one of the most active members of every groupchat I'm in. The main one I'm going to rant about (because in my other friend group groupchat this Doesn't Happen) has around 15 members, with 10 of those being people who I'd consider actual friends rather than friends of friends.

Of those 10 I see some of them really often - one almost daily. And yet.

In the groupchat I am one of the most active, with two others maybe also being as active as me, I'm going to call the one I'll be talking about L (random letter, yes I know this isn't reddit).

My biggest issue is probably with L in that he responds to basically everything I say with fucking stock responses? Like I love him he's a wonderful human being, and I know irl the reason we're not that close is because neither of us try (imo we just have too similar of personalities...) This is a full on random vent post so. My other main issue with L is that I have tried to do stuff - and while he's been more receptive than Anyone Else (we also go to Uni together, and do a weekly-ish meet up in someone's room to hang out and drink, I have one of the largest rooms of any of us, I have offered it up repeatedly but noooo. Can't have that can we.) he still has very much just brushed me aside? Like he has tea sessions with some others, and he has acted all surprised that I wasn't invited - AS IN another of our friends casually said to me 'oh you know where L's room is, you go over for tea' and he's referenced happenings to me expecting me to get them (have I fucking watched brideshead revisited with you indeed), but he won't actually invite me.

and this + the stock responses stuff? It's partly the fault of online communication - where it is seemingly PERFECTLY FUCKING OKAY to just peace out of a conversation without saying anything?? like am I going insane or is it polite to just say bye. Especially on WhatsApp I can see that you have seen my message. Just say anything?? (But equally he gives me these same responses in person?)

(I know this is a me problem, another friend who's on the gc has said before that he thinks it's rude if people reply saying that they can't attend something rather than just not responding. needless to say I disagree...+ just general life stuff)

Like L is physically one of the closest of my friends at uni, as in we live in buildings right next to each other, but I just. I don't connect with him. He doesn't initiate conversation with me. nobody does.

I remember reading a while ago about a guy who felt like he hadn't really made any friends, and so just stopped responding to the people he knew to test if they'd get back to him, and they didn't. And later on he went to therapy and realised that he didn't initiate anything, and that he was putting the whole burden of friendship on them. I remember reading that and thinking is this me? do I not do enough? But equally, I have suggested outings and been ignored or rejected or have only one to two people respond. I try to start conversations, I tell people about my life, ask them how they're doing. And still I feel like I'm alone.

A few years ago, before I got into uni, I was incredibly depressed. Had a plan and everything. Gave myself an ultimatum. One of the areas that distressed me the most was feeling like I just couldn't connect with my friends. I know now why - I can rationalise it out; one was having similarly dire mental crises, with another our interests had just drifted apart over time, and with a third it was a deeply toxic relationship that consisted of her constantly lying and being cruel, and me silently hating her but still staying friends out of fear? pity?

There's a difference between being lonely and being alone. One of those you can feel even when surrounded by people who'd all call themselves friend.

I'm a lot older now than I was then. After lockdowns, I moved to a new area, met new people, and like. I felt good about myself and life again. I started going on walks, looking up at the stars at night and seeing how light fell across fields of wheat in the morning. Laughed more, was just generally happier than I felt like I'd ever been. And a key part of that was my friends at the time; unlike now, friendship felt easy, uncomplicated.

And now I'm back in the same place, older and ostensibly wiser, but really just stuck. Different location, different people, but there's something always in the way, and that something seems to lie exclusively with me.

My mother also has had a hard time making and keeping friends, ended up in several friendships where she gave everything to the other person in exchange for what would always turn out to be empty words and hurt. I don't want to be like her.

I want to talk to my friends, tell them about this, sit down and just say how I feel. Ask if we're friends, if L knows he's doing this. Get their side of everything! But equally, how can I do that? I know some of what L's been through in the past with emotionally unstable people, I don't want to just be that same person, put it all on him, because who else would listen!

but sometimes I'm not sure I really want to exist anymore. I don't want to die, just...stop. become nothingness, never was, never will be.

if I did die. did just walk into a road one day and get hit by a car, or have an aneurism, or just stopped working one day, act of god style, would they notice would they care? of course. but I'd never change anyone's life, and it feels selfish just saying that but. I'm an afterthought in the friend bubble, something disposable. if I left the group chat today, left the earth tomorrow, they might wonder, might even cry, but wouldn't care. I'd just be a name in a list, someone else gone.

I want to have friends.

I try to.

[conduitandconjurer]

sorry this got long, so keep scrolling if you aren’t in a headspace for a mutual to vent ooc. 

i’m upset for stupid reasons that, i think, go back to bigger or deeper things IRL.

i’m upset that i’ve been too busy as my mother’s sole caretaker OR playing frantic catch-up at work (i’m a professor and it involves a LOT of grading, lecturing, reading, and writing, and frankly extracurricular things like counseling and reporting concerns about students’ emotional or physical safety) to do things like shower, sleep 7-8 hours a night, eat as healthily as i should, exercise, and most of all, do ANYTHING creative to my own satisfaction. it has been more than a WEEK since i have showered! it has been since JUNE since i have even started a complete, finished, full-color artwork. 

yeah, i know the positivity drill: “you create things for your own joy, not to be good at them.” but i only enjoy making things (image or word) that i can do with a certain degree of thoroughness and depth. i don’t like to half-ass anything. there’s also executive dysfunction borne of crippling anxiety and depression, which are more situational (C-PTSD) than the result of brain chemistry.

so i’m mad. i’m sad. i’m lonely. i’m tired. i want to just have some semblance of a normal adult life. i have not had a normal life since i was diagnosed with an incurable, progressively worsening illness AT AGE SIX. and i have let it get MUCH worse (my kidneys, stomach, eyes, lymph nodes, and blood vessels are all so badly damaged that there is no fixing them, there is just praying they don’t get worse, and now all sensation in my hands is going too: i can barely type this) because i’ve had to take over for my mother (no, insurance won’t help us, believe me, i’ve looked into it: she’s on dialysis but somehow “not sick enough”) and i have NO TIME to see my OWN doctors and do the necessary lifestyle changes to make MYSELF any better. i want to take a shower, and have energy to do anything after that. i want to go on a date. hell, i have a new boyfriend, but i find dating him to be a chore that i dread because i am so fucking drained by the end of the week that I’d rather just go to bed. 

i want to be selfish. i just want to be SELFISH for ONE DAY. 

but i know that’s not realistic.  i mean i live in a world where everyone, EVERYONE, that i know, has just gone back to attending major events maskless, even though COVID is still surging. people like me are apparently expendable; we’re “sick anyway,” so if we die, it’s “expected.”  we get left behind and NO ONE NOTICES. 

i won’t be able to do Sheehantober/Sheetober, whatever it’s called, that super cool thing with all the creative prompts. 

i won’t be able to draw/paint the entire notebook of ideas i’ve had waiting for “free time” since last february.

i won’t have time to answer my drafts here, that have been sitting since may.

i won’t be able to even catch up on Discord threads, and I CAN’T EVEN FIND THE TIME TO CELEBRATE KLAUS’S BIRTHDAY WITH GOOFY LIGHT HEARTED SIMPLE THINGS. I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT IT ENTIRELY. 

but honestly THAT DOESN’T MATTER EITHER, because i haven’t had the time to form many meaningful connections with people (aside two lovely souls who know who they are) in this fandom, and nobody inboxes me or responds to my open starters anyway.  plus if they did, i’d probably be too sick or tired to do a thing about it. 

mom just spilled perishable stuff all over the kitchen floor trying to get her own food, so now i have to go mop that up even though my sciatica is so bad that i’m sweating. this weekend, i have to somehow find time to get a house cleaner, inventory and remove extra dialysis supplies (32 HEAVY boxes to cover), find and buy a table with very specific parameters to hold a dialysis cycler, etc etc etc). a day in the life. 

and you think, “can’t you ask somebody to help?” friend, if you say that, you have never experienced TRUE chronic illness, and how very quickly people you are close to become “too busy” to help when they have to interact with (noncommunicable!) illness, and acknowledge their OWN mortality. 

[msgrumpygills]

Look I get you hate Jared and Gen and you love the Ackles and all the other SPN cast, but like hating them isn’t gonna change anything. Let’s be real, this whole fandom is toxic and filled with Jared haters, Jensen haters, and wife haters, and a few unhinged hellers. I get that your whole thing is opinions and speculations, but it seems some of your followers take that as hard cold facts, when in reality nobody knows what’s going on in the Padalecki’s or Ackles lives. Or what happened behind the scenes of prequel-gate, or the supposed fight that happened between Jensen and Gen. Going by sm, it seems they all are still friends. It also seems like Jared and Gen are up in Colorado with the Ackles, since Gen posted about taking the kids to ski lessons and that picture of a fan with Jared at a private airport, you can take what you will with that. With that being said, Jensen and Jared are not gonna throw away 16 years of friendship no matter how much some people want that to happen. They’ve been threw too much (some we know and some we don’t know) to let that happen. Rant aside, they aren’t just celebrities they are human and they will make mistakes. Both of them have made mistakes publicly and privately, everyone has made mistakes. If Jensen and Jared can move on, then everyone else should too. What’s done in the past stays in the past. You learn from it, grow, and move on. Also just a suggestion, I don’t mean any harm, but why not just create a blog that caters to the Ackles like the other AA blogs on tumblr. You’ve made it clear that you love them and hate Jared and Gen. Reveling in hatred for people who are just living their lives and don’t care about what you have to say is, in my opinion, not healthy. You shouldn’t have to continually hate on people just to bring up your favs, you’re no better than the toxic people in this fandom. Anyway, I don’t mean you any harm or hate you, feel free to ignore or respond.

I debated whether or not I should answer this, but I do want to clear a few things up so I figured I’d answer. 

First of all, I don’t hate anyone. That’s a strong word and while I dislike the Pads and their behaviors, I don’t hate them. 

Secondly, I didn’t make this blog because I thought that my words and rants would change anyone. I made this blog because I wanted a place to vent about fandom happenings and didn’t want to clog my personal blog up with my rants and reblogs. Plus, I know how some stans can get and didn’t want people to harass my personal account. I didn’t expect this blog to drive the Pads or the toxic people in the fandom to change just because of my blog. 

I think it’s a little unfair to assume that every one of my followers takes what is on this blog as fact because unless you’ve spoken to them, you don’t know that. This is a place to discuss opinions and when facts are presented, I will share them here. But assuming that my followers just take everything said here as a fact is a bit presumptuous. 

Aren’t you taking social media as fact by assuming that Jared and Gen are in Colorado with the Ackles’? Just because they’re somewhere snowy doesn’t mean they’re with the Ackles’, Gen is always going to Idaho so maybe they’re going there. We really don’t know, but I do have a feeling (based on the Pads’ general behavior) that if they are with the Ackles’ they would be posting plenty of content because that’s what they do. 

It’s also a little silly to just assume that Jared and Jensen wouldn’t throw away a friendship just because they’ve “been through so much” and it’s been a long friendship. By your own admission, we don’t know what happens behind the scenes so who’s to say that they have had a smooth and happy friendship that whole time? Time means nothing in a toxic relationship and it’s harmful to have that ideation that people can’t leave toxic friendships or relationships just because they’ve been in them for a certain amount of time. 

“What’s done in the past stays in the past. You learn from it, grow, and move on.”

Yes that is true, but the problem with Jared and Gen is that they KEEP making the same mistakes, they HAVE NOT learned or grown from their mistakes. Jensen has, Misha has, Danneel has, and while they still do things that people don’t like, they’ve got nothing compared to the shit Jared and Gen do. 

“Also just a suggestion, I don’t mean any harm, but why not just create a blog that caters to the Ackles like the other AA blogs on tumblr. You’ve made it clear that you love them and hate Jared and Gen. Reveling in hatred for people who are just living their lives and don’t care about what you have to say is, in my opinion, not healthy. You shouldn’t have to continually hate on people just to bring up your favs, you’re no better than the toxic people in this fandom. Anyway, I don’t mean you any harm or hate you, feel free to ignore or respond.”

I have stated time and time again that I am not an Ackles fanpage, I am not an AA. I am someone who is outside of the fandom who can see things objectively. If Jared shaped up and if Gen shaped up, I’d be praising them on this blog too, but they’re not. If Jensen did the same shit Jared does, I’d call him out on it. I’ve called Jensen out on this blog before, but no one seems to believe me. 

I don’t revel in hatred, this is a side thing that I do when I’m bored. You don’t see my life outside of this blog where I have hobbies, family, friends, things that I actually “revel” in, so don’t make those assumptions. I’m not “continually hating on people to bring up my favs”, I simply share what is put out there and discuss things and happenings with my anons and followers. 

Do not compare me to the toxic people in this fandom because I’m nothing like them. Thanks for the message, enjoy your week.

[johnkrrasinski]

Dear Lover... ❥

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 5,689 

Warning: pure fluff. pure feelings. a little bit of angst but with a happy ending 😌

Summary: you dance with bucky barnes in the obscurity of your room as you recalled the first time you met and how three years later you ended up tangled in each other’s arms. (based on the song “lover” by taylor swift) 

a/n: this one’s a love letter to the love of my life aka bucky barnes. it took me awhile to find the will to write about him because i truly wanna write something that gives him justice, because this man deserves nothing but happiness and love. hope you like it. please leave a like & comment. 

It was a quiet Thursday evening, precisely at 8.35 PM. The rain outside of the Avengers tower was pouring, splatters of misty droplets bedewed the window glass. Through the lens of your shared room, transpierced the lights of the bustling city of New York. The city that never sleeps, as one would say. You could hear the sound of honking cars and sirens going off somewhere and it truly eased your mind.

You loved New York. You were born and raised in this vivacious city. Though your parents took the chance to move to Manhattan and fought to survive the exorbitant living cost, they managed. They taught you to fight hard and work tenaciously if you wanted to make it. The city was all you knew your entire life. But most importantly, you loved the man you were sharing this bedroom with more.

You had been dating Bucky Barnes, aka the former Winter Soldier, aka the White Wolf, for three summers now. Your first encounter with him wasn’t exactly the most romantic “how I met your mother” kind of story.

You were in the kitchen, late night, trying to make yourself a nice hot chocolate to cool down your nerves. Moving into the Avengers Tower had truly wearied you. Of course, you were aware that you weren’t supposed to be since there were literally a super soldier, a former Pararescueman, a man with a highly advanced iron suit, two highly trained assassins, a powerful witch, a (part-time) green beast, and an actual living human android helping you with your belongings. You couldn’t have asked for better movers.

But the adaptation of change still drained some of your energy. Maybe more mentally than physically, but whatever, you just needed a nice, sweet warm drink before you can finally sleep in your fresh, new, never used before bed. It was nearing four am and everyone had returned to their private quarters, except you.

You walked into the kitchen leisurely in nothing but your Bambi pyjamas, as you reached for the kitchen cabinet to search for a jar of instant hot chocolate. “Make yourself at home,” Tony said earlier as he was giving you a quick tour around the tower. The tower was so spacious and palatial, it was easy to get lost. “We’ve got everything here; food, snacks, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, ice creams and more… But don’t eat the half-eaten fried egg chicken on the fridge, though. That one belongs to Clint and he wouldn’t hesitate in shooting an arrow through your skull if you stole it.”

You poured the hot water into the glass and then you were ready to drink it up. You were so pleased by the taste of hot chocolate streaming through your tongue, you didn’t hear the faint sounds of footsteps approaching. Bucky had just returned from a solo mission to Brussels and he hadn’t had the chance to properly introduce himself to you. He had only heard about you through Fury and Tony’s narrative when they informed the team that they were going to have a new addition to the team.

Steve had texted him a picture of her earlier, picking up her boxes to her new bedroom… She looked lovely. She was only wearing a simple white shirt with high-waisted, ripped blue jeans to complete the casual look but, she didn’t have to try hard to catch his eye. He couldn’t wait to go back to the tower and talk to her. He crossed his finger hoping that he wouldn’t mess it up or embarrassingly stutter his own name whilst shaking her hand.

Bucky soundlessly walked towards you as he placed a hand on your shoulder, trying not to startle you but you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake, and you didn’t know that Bucky was supposed to return today. Your brain had been so occupied with moving in, that you forgot there was one member of the team missing because he was on a solo mission and that he was supposed to return in the early morning.

So you accidentally dropped your glass, spilling your little taste of heaven all over the counter, as you turned around and punched him on the face. You shrieked as soon as you felt a palm touching your shoulder, thinking it might’ve been a ghost or worse, an intruder. For a second there, you nearly forgot that you weren’t living all by yourself in a tiny apartment anymore. You were in the most highly secured building in New York, surrounded by vigilant superheroes that had fought bigger guys than a callow thief or more lethal than supernatural forces.

Bucky’s hand immediately went to his face, as he shrieked in pain. He absolutely didn’t expect a punch from you, considering he meant well. He slightly backed away on his feet, clutching the nose that had bled due to the robust force. You soon realized that he was Bucky Barnes, the Avenger that had just gone back from a solo mission Steve told you about, and you had just realized that you punched… The Winter Soldier. Oh my God. Your guilt rushes through your gut and you immediately covered your mouth with your hand in panic.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still awake, I’m so sorry.” You reached out to his hand, trying to see the damage that you did.

“No, it’s okay, doll. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that, I’m sorry.” He wiped the blood that leaked out his nose.

“No, no, no, it wasn’t your fault at all, I shouldn’t have reacted like that… Please, let me help you with that.”

“I got it doll, really. It’s nothing.”

“I insist. Please, otherwise I’d feel really bad.”

You moved to the couch in the common room, as you began patching him up. You both finally introduced yourselves properly this time, and you talked for about an hour until the sun was starting to rise. When you realized how late it had gotten and how exhausted Bucky must’ve been, only then, you returned to your individual bedrooms. And thus, a friendship was born. The beginning of something eternal and profound.

The next morning, things changed. Bucky would act differently around you whenever the team was around. Or anyone, at all, was around. Bucky would often avoid your eyes and act awkwardly around you. You didn’t see the man that you had a warm conversation with at 4 in the morning on that first day anymore. You felt like talking to a stranger that you had to walk on eggshells with. When Steve asked Bucky whether he had met you or not during breakfast, Bucky with his head down simply responded, “yeah… We’ve met.” That elicited a furrowed brows from you.

Steve later counselled you about it, “don’t worry. He’s like that with everyone. It’s not easy to start a small talk when you are the former winter soldier.”

You tried to tell yourself not to overthink it or take it personally. Of course, you were aware of the history. It was told in every history class. But you still couldn’t shake the need to get to know him more. You’d do it deliberately, you weren’t going to force him to break out of his shell, but you wanted to let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed of with you.

And so, you would often knock on his bedroom door since your bedrooms were on the same floor when you brought something from your favourite bakery shop. Or when you hear the excruciating screams at night, because he couldn’t tame down the demons in his sleep, reminding him of his inevitable, vicious past that spilled a lot of blood and caused him a lot of pain. Mentally, emotionally and physically.

At first, he would give you a sardonic look as he asked you of why you were here. You’d tell him that you thought he could use a company and so, the friendship, or whatever that you had with him would bloom through the murmured secrets and the late-night rendevous. It turned into a nightly thing that only you and Bucky shared. Nobody else had to know.

During the day, there were a lot of stolen glances and lingering tension in the room, everyone could sense it except you and Bucky yourselves. But yet, you didn’t speak many words about it to each other. Everyone who saw you two knew that you two hid some amount of feelings for each other. But yet, neither of you dared to make the first move.

Sam, Wanda and Nat were your closest friends and therefore, they knew the most about your unspoken feelings for Bucky. Starting from the awkward chats to the time where this new agent shamelessly flirted with Bucky in front of you. Of course, you were aware that anyone could flirt with Bucky, he wasn’t yours, to begin with. But it was still rude and disrespectful and you being the irrational, jealous person that you were, you’d often ramble to either Sam, Wanda or Nat in their private quarters until you felt better again.

One night, where this agent, Samantha or whatever her name was, had boldly touched Bucky’s arm at one of Tony’s flamboyant parties, in front of you, you immediately texted Sam, Wanda and Nat in the group text called “Besties” to gather up in your room because you needed to vent.

“Look, y/n, if you’re so annoyed by her flirting, then why don’t you just tell Bucky how you feel?” Wanda said.

“I don’t understand…” You squinted your eyes at her. It’s not like you didn’t actually understand what she was saying, but the concept of confessing your feelings to Bucky sounded like an absurd idea.

“Look, I’m just saying, what’s the worse that could happen?”

“Okay, Wanda, now you’re just talking shit.”

“Y/N” Sam interposed. “He might like you too. He may not say much but we all caught those stolen glances, don’t you think we didn’t see it.”

“You don’t know that for sure, Sam. Besides, it’s not just about him not liking me back… What if he’s just not ready to date? What if he likes me but not in that way? There are a million things that could go wrong. So, please, let’s cross out the idea of telling him how I feel because it’s definitely not happening.”

Sam, Wanda and Nat exchanged a look. “Okay, it’s your life anyway. But y/n, if you don’t move now, then you might lose your chance forever. Samanta could be seducing him into her bed right now as you are rambling about her to us.” Natasha closed it.

Her words had truly struck you light lightning. You never thought of it that way… You always thought you had every second in the clock, just waiting for you to be ready. Or him to be ready. But you never thought of the possibility of Bucky and Samantha actually going on a date… What if she had asked him to go out with her next weekend? And what if he had said yes? The thought hurt. It crushed your heart like a shredder. It twisted you inside out like a sickness.

And so, after Sam, Nat and Wanda returned to the party, you stayed in your room. You told them that you’d catch up, you just needed to rest your feet from standing in heels for too long. You were lying. You needed some time alone with your thoughts, as you were trying to plan your next move. You recalled all those late-night rendevous and midnight conversations, and you felt it in your heart. That mighty urge in your heart. Like the entire crowd you were standing before are chanting the words loudly to you. “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!”

You felt all the feelings you contained inside for him rushed through your veins, like a power surging through your cells, bestowing you the courage to stand on your feet, put on your heels and reapplied your lipstick. You straightened the frowns of your dress in front of the mirror as you took a deep breath. “You got this.” You stared your reflection dead in the eye and convinced yourself.

When you were satisfied with your fixed appearance, you immediately went back to the party. You couldn’t wait to find him. Giddiness, nervousness, and anxiety were swirling in your chest. You ordered Friday to take you to the lobby, where the party was held, as you leaned back on the glass wall of the elevator and you folded your arms around you, trying to ground yourself. You tried to stand steadily and not face-plant yourself on the marble floor in front of Bucky. You would never be able to live with yourself.

When the elevator finally reached the main lobby, the metal doors separated, showing you the people in fancy suits and dresses chattering with one another, with a glass of sparkling Champagne in their hands. You immediately searched for Bucky. A slick black, long dark hair, clad in a black dress shirt and black pants. Your eyes gazed into every corner of the room, focusing thoroughly on the large chunk of a man.

You finally spotted him by the bar. He was sitting with a glass of tonic and gin in his hand, as he took a sip of it, then he put it down on the bar counter. It would’ve been a tantalizing sight that you’d love to sit back and observe if it weren’t for the person sitting next to him. Samantha was sitting with her legs crossed beside him, her body was fully faced to Bucky as she tried to reach out to feel his bicep again for God knows how many times that night. She was laughing and even from the distance, you could see the glint in her eyes at something he just said.

You felt like you had been hit by a truck. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a monster that was devouring your insides with its tapered fangs. You felt dizzy as you felt like you were going to drop on the floor if you don’t hold onto something. Steve happened to be walking past you thankfully and as soon as he saw you looking unwell, he immediately grabbed your arm, awakening you from your daze.

“Y/N, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine, Steve... I’m…” You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back into consciousness. “I think I need to lay down. I’ll see you in the morning, Steve. Please tell Tony that I’m not feeling well.”

“Alright, yeah, go ahead. I’ll inform the team if they ask about you.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You nearly stumbled on your feet as soon as you took your first step.

“Whoa, do you need me to walk you to your room?”

“No, it’s fine. I got it. Night, Steve.”

“Goodnight, y/n.” He watched you warily, feeling hesitant whether he should really let you walk to your floor alone or not. As soon as you went inside the elevator, and the mental doors had closed, you slumped on the wall as you tried to muffle your cries. Nothing could hurt you more than seeing the man that you were secretly in love with, flirting with another girl. You couldn’t find it in you to give directions to Friday. So you just stood there, listening to the Jazz music playing in the background.

Until you were finally wearied enough to say the word to Friday. The AI politely responded, “yes, miss.”

As soon as you reached your floor, you took off your heels as they swayed with every step that you took. Your cheeks were tainted by ruined mascara, and your hair was slightly dishevelled. You couldn’t care any less. You should be dancing to the slow music or even kissing him drunkenly at the bar with your hands wrapped around his neck right now. But no, he was probably doing those with Samantha. You knew you were being unreasonable, crying over a man who was never yours, to begin with. But you allowed yourself to feel the pain and then, you can figure out a way to move on. You just needed to unleash it all out first.

You put your heels in the corner of your bedroom and stripped yourself out of the white cocktail dress. You immediately ran for the shower, your limbs felt more ponderous than ever. The last time you experienced a broken heart was in eleventh grade when you ran into your senior crush, Peyton at the mall with a girl who didn’t go to the same school as you, in his arm. You nearly walked up to him to say hi but your plan was instantly crushed before you even found the courage to talk to him.

Ever since then, you made a pact with your heart that you were never going to fall in love first ever again. You were okay with being single, you weren’t the kind of person who constantly needs romantic love. You focused on self-growth, you focused on your skills which is martial arts and military tactics. You invested your mind and energy into self-love, friendship and your education.

When you were finally ready to roam around the city at night as a vigilante, you’d sneak off every night to sit building rooftops and you looked after the small guys around the neighbourhood. Until your small vigilante works were heard and Fury snuck into your apartment to recruit you himself.

After your shower, you changed into an oversized grey hoodie that you once stole from Bucky’s closet, one night while having one of those clandestine rendezvous in his room. You were cold and you were only wearing a thin-layered white shirt with a worn-out pair of old swimming shorts that still fitted you.

“Here, wear my hoodie.” He walked to his achromatic closet and revealed the tidily-placed pile of black and white shirts and pants. He didn't have that many clothes but, it was enough to secure his enormous figure cosily. He pulled out one of his fresh from the laundry sweatshirts from the heap. He handed them to you and inserted yourself into the aromatic material.

When you were both finally too somnolent to keep your eyes wide open. He walked you to your room and you didn’t realize you were still wearing his hoodie until you said your final goodnight. When you tried to take it off your body, he said, “no, it’s alright. You can return it to me in the morning.”

But you never did. And he was okay with that. At least you thought. Because never once he asked for it back. You’d even catch his demure smile when he saw you wearing it.

You did your nighttime skincare routine and went to bed. The scent of his hoodie was faint but enough to make you yearn for him. It’s ridiculous, really. To miss someone who was never yours, and someone who practically lived right next to you, considering how long he could spend hiding in his own room.

You felt the tears brimming in your eyes as they ran down your cheeks and soaked your pillow sheets. You sniffled as your mind harked back to the shared moments in the gloom and the timid touches when words could no longer bear the intimacy. The moon knows more about you and him than anyone ever will and if you could no longer feel his skin against your anymore even for just a second, you were going to hold onto the memories.

You were lost pacing down the memory lane until you heard a subtle knock on the door. Three taps and you instantly knew who was standing on the other side. You tried to neglect it, hoping that he would get the message of leaving you alone. You weren’t ready to face or talk to him. But he wouldn’t relent. He knocked once more, telling you that he wasn’t leaving until you answered him.

You stayed in the exact same spot until you were peevish enough to keep listening to it. You finally stood on your feet and opened the door with a sour look on your face. He greeted you with a nonchalant smile, his hair now was tied in a low bun.

“Hey, Steve told me that you weren’t feeling well, what happened?” His expression was filled with concern.

“I’m fine, now. You can go.” You sneered. You tried to shut the door, not even wanting to face him any longer or listen to his unprompted “I got a date!” story.

He was appalled by your anomalous behaviour, as he immediately stopped the door with his hand from being slammed on his face. “Hey, hold on a second. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I said, I’m fine, Bucky. Just leave me alone, please.”

His chest tightened at your sardonic words. You had never acted this way around him before. Did he say something wrong? Did he wake you at the wrong time? Were you on your cycle? He was bewildered.

“I just wanna know if you were alright. Steve said you looked really pale at the party and you had to leave early and if you are then maybe I could bring you a soup or something.”

“I just need to be alone, Bucky. Alright? I was feeling much better until you showed up.” You didn’t mean to be so spiteful and blunt. You just needed some space. And his presence was intoxicating and the longer you see him, the harder it would be for you to let go.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately but the look on his eyes was enough to beckon his hurt. “What did I do? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Bucky, it’s not you, it’s just-” You inhaled. Trying to cool yourself down before you continued. “Just not tonight, alright?”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He puffed himself up, masking his frustration. No, no, he wasn’t ready to let you go before he could even tell you he loved you. So if planting himself on his feet would make you enlighten him, he was going to do that.

“Okay, then just fucking stand there all night, I don’t care.” The cool in you vanished, turned into a small flame of counterwork.

“Why are you acting like this? Huh? You can’t just knock on my door whenever you feel like and shut me out like this.”

“Well, why don’t you just vent to your new girlfriend, then? I’m pretty sure she’ll be more than happy to listen to your ramblings all night.” You stormed into the room, trying to slam the door behind you but Bucky stopped it as he followed you inside. It wouldn’t be wise to keep this argument in the hall where the whole tower could hear you.

“What? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“Oh, of course, Bucky. As if you hadn’t practically just gone on your first date with her at the party.”

“You’re being ridiculous, y/n! We were just talking.”

“Bullshit! Like no one could see the bedroom eyes she was giving you. She was practically fucking your brains out at the bar. Oh and not to mention, how she was groping your biceps like you were the only two people in the room!”

“What is this? Jealousy?”

“No! Stop flattering yourself, Bucky.”

“Okay, so what is it? I can’t fix whatever this is…” His fingers motioned to the invisible string binding the two of you. Who are you kidding? You both knew there was something more than a platonic bond between the two of you, you were just too dastardly to admit it with words to one another. “…If you don’t tell me the truth.”

Deep down, you knew the jealousy was senseless but in the heat of the dispute, you couldn’t stop your mouth from conveying the words out loud.

“Because I like you and I don’t want you to be with anyone but me, okay? There. I said it. Are you happy now? I like you and I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t like the thought of you being with someone who’s not me.”

Bucky was aghasted by your vehement declaration. Did he get it right? Did you really just tell him the words that he had always wanted to hear? The words that nearly escaped his lips more times than he could count, but never found the courage because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you? Was he dreaming? This felt surreal.

“You… You like me?”

You scoffed. “Yeah. I do, Bucky. Unfortunately. But now, I understand if you wanna go out with Samantha or if you never speak a word to me again, I get it. But at least you know that I li-”

He abruptly grabbed your face and pressed a brief kiss on your lips, taking your breath away like a typhoon. It was short-lived but enough to knock you off your feet. He retreated and gazed deeply into your eyes, hoping that you could see the suppressed emotions you made him feel whenever he was with you. He wasn’t a man of many words, after all, but after spending months of excavating each other’s secrecies, you got the message. Words were futile, anyway, when the feelings that you had were stronger than anything else you had ever felt.

“I like you too, y/n. So much.”

“You do?”

He nodded, a grin spread across his face, making his eyes gleam in the obscurity of your room.

“What about Samantha?”

“Sweetheart, I never had any feelings for her. She can flirt with me all she wants, but you gotta know that I only have eyes for you, darling. And there’s no one else I wanna be with other than you.”

“You mean that?” Your smile had made its way back to your face. The smile that only Bucky could evoke. Your eyes were twinkling with hope.

“Every word.”

And that’s you ended up here now, three years later, sharing a reposeful room with the love of your life. You had just returned from a late sparing session with Natasha in the training room. Crazy, how three years ago, you’d incessantly ramble about the same person and the same topic, which is Bucky’s cluelessness whilst running on the treadmill with her but now, you talked about various random things like two normal friends would. As if the issue that you had with Bucky had been resolved. All’s well that ends well.

You spotted your boyfriend, who had a much shorter hair now, sitting contently on the bed with a Sci-Fi novel in his hands. His long fingers sophisticatedly enveloped the cover as he thoroughly focused on the words on the pages but, it was quickly disrupted when you walked into the room, greeting him with a smile. “Hey, baby. What are you reading?”

“This sci-fi novel that Sam got me for my birthday but I didn’t pick it up until now. How was the training, sweetheart?”

“The usual. Nat, being the competitive little shit that she is, kicked my ass but I got her back at least. Twice.” You had showered in the gym bathroom before you went upstairs to see your boyfriend so you didn’t have to bother concealing your musty scent due to the sweat.

“That’s my girl.” He got on his feet and walked towards you, as he looked at you with so much admiration and love in his eyes, it overwhelms you sometimes. The way he’d hold you whilst being starstruck by every feature on your face, and the way he’d tell you he loved you, with so many sincerity behind the words, even after three years of being together. You were lucky. You both were. To find a home within each other.  

He kissed you deeply like he hadn’t had the pleasure to see you in three months even if you had only been gone for an hour. His lips enthralled you every time and he wouldn’t mind giving you the solace as much as you desired. He needed it more from you, anyway.

When your lips were apart, he pressed his forehead to yours. The vague light from the table lamp beside your bed illuminated the room along with the dimmed city lights, casting a dainty glow on the two of you. Like a spotlight on a stage, and you were the star-crossed lovers of the tale, illustrating a true story of unbreakable love.

“Dance with me.” Bucky said.

“Well, then, I shall put on the perfect song, sir.”

You ordered Friday to play the song “Lover” by Taylor Swift, as the first hits of the drum immediately moved your bodies against each other, his hand seized yours as you tucked your head under his chin. His other arm wrapped itself around your waist, holding you as close as possible like it was your last dance. But certainly not. This was merely one in a thousand dances to come.

We could leave the Christmas lights, up ‘till January

This is our place, we make the rules

You swayed to the nostalgic song playing in the background, echoing the words of love all around the room. Like you were the only lovers on the grand dancefloor, as the singer harmonises only for you.

And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

You leaned your head on his chest, his slow heartbeat thumps in your ear. The beat grounds you like gravity, reminding you of how the term ‘home’ isn’t only a structure with four walls and a ceiling, but rather, a figure with serum-injected blood coursing through his veins, an injured skin layering all the organs, fashioning one magnetic force of a man.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close?

Forever and ever

His gentle hand rubbed your back, as his feet swung with the tune. He was a man out of his time. Despite being alive in the modern world long enough now, he was still taking baby steps in adapting to the culture and that includes music. Back then, this wasn’t exactly the kind of music he’d ask a girl to dance along to, but he learned to appreciate your musical preference and slowly, he grew fond of them too.

And ah, take me out and take me home

You’re my, my, my, my lover

Because the lyrics had truly hit close to home. If someone had delivered him a mail during his Winter Soldier years, that he was going to find a beautiful, loving woman who willingly took his hand; scars and all. Despite the demons in his mind and the ghosts in his past, she was going to love him faithfully and she would offer her own hand to guide him through the path of daylight… He’d laugh on their faces and told them to piss off because they were wasting his time by speaking baloney.

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

But he was wrong. You walked into his life and gratefully punched his face on that night and he will forever thank the lucky stars for that. Because what he didn’t have a single clue of was that, it was the beginning of something tangible and something that became his religion. Something that became his lifeline. Despite still dealing with his own demons that he wasn’t sure whether they will ever truly leave him or not, he was a happy man. He didn’t think it was possible to say that. He was a happy man, in love. And it sounds strange to accept that as the truth but, it was what it was.

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

He twirled you around gently. Careful not to trip you. He caught you in his arms as you bent your body with peremptory trust, his handsome face never failed to mesmerize you.

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

You swayed on your feet once more, but really, you were just spending time, embracing the security in each other’s arms. You don’t care about the past heartbreaks or the haunting memories. You are not even stressing out to think about what tomorrow promises, you simply wanted to live every second of this moment with him.

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be over-dramatic and true to my lover 

But whatever the future plans for you, you knew there would be no hurricane violent enough to shake your ground as long as you had Bucky by your side.

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

You were going to hold onto him through the agonizing mornings or vicious nights. You were going to hold onto him through Spring until the first drop of snow starts to cover the ground in white again. You were going to hold onto him through the Christmas Eves and New Years. Whether it be when you’re sharing a midnight kiss or when you’re hungover for all the drinks from last night.

You took a vow that no matter what happened, there would be no more unspoken words that would be an emotional barrier between the two of you. You only wanted to have eyes for him because everything fades into the background and the stars align when your bodies were intertwined, unable to tell where you began and he ended.

You’re permanently stuck with each other and that’s all you ever really wanted.

[somerpmemes]

Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist S1 Starters

Change as needed. More under the cut.

“Quick question: do you always have to play and sing your music that loud?”

“Why are you up so early anyways?”

“Oh, I didn’t go to bed.”

“So, you’re ready for this?”

“I just really don’t wanna screw this up.”

“Keeping it lean for the ladies.”

“I need to expand my horizons.”

“It was literally all you.”

“Now is not the time to be modest.”

“Let’s face it, the woman’s a narcissist.”

“Work your magic, feel the glory, in it to win it.”

“Well I’m not really comfortable with anything.”

“Alright, who wants some freshly delivered, slightly cold, mediocre pizza!”

“Could we maybe open a window or something?”

“They’re not that scary.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an elaborate teleportation device that will take me to an alternate universe?”

“I just wanna get this over with.”

“Is this supposed to be happening?”

“That sounds really sad.”

“Why are you singing right now?”

“Why would I sing to you? You don’t even like me.”

“Can I get you anything? Water? Vodka? Xanax?”

“Quick question: did you recently imbibe or inject anything that came from a “medicinal” type shop?”

“But I’m an open-minded person, I’m willing to roll with this.”

“Maybe you’re operating on a higher plane than the rest of us.”

“Child, I’m completely baked. Ain’t nothing going on in my head right now.”

“This is the first thing that I find remotely interesting about you.”

“Will we ever have joie de vivre?”

“My mom left me when I was young and my whole life has been a series of rejections from the opposite sex.”

“You sure you don’t hear that?”

“Let’s party like it’s 1978!”

“And you should really take everything I say when I’m high with a grain of salt.”

“That song is real dark.”

“Good music can make you feel things you can’t express in words.”

“Hey, not that I’m keeping tabs or anything but that’s like your fourth cup of coffee today.”

“That’s a whole lot of tmi I just spewed on you.”

“Who knows what other people are really thinking, right?”

“I’ve found in general death and dying tend not to be the best conversation starters.”

“If I show you something can you promise to keep it only between us?”

“This is the only thing that I can hold onto.”

“I’ve become a real expert on bottling my shame and pain and hiding it from the world.”

“Listen, I’m not an expert on this or anything but you can't just keep it in.”

“I should’ve been the one this happened to.”

“I think we’re just gonna have to stumble through it together. The blind leading the blind.”

“If you had the power to know what was going on in other people’s heads, do you think you’d feel guilty?”

“I’m going to be uncharacteristically honest with you so don’t get used to it.”

“I notice everything.”

“I just feel like everyone’s against me.”

“Two more hours and I would’ve gotten it, just saying.”

“There’s gonna be good days and bad days, remember? Let’s chalk this up to one of the good ones.”

“Mama needs an update.”

“No, no, don’t be flattered.”

“I view you more as a social experiment, like a rat running through a maze.”

“Sounds bougie, I’m in.”

“I'm not in trouble, am I?”

“Bottom line, please?”

“You’re yelling, bro.”

“I’m acting weirder than normal?”

“Believe it or not I didn’t really play any sports growing up.”

“This power is wasted on you!”

“Is this weird? This feels weird.”

“I gotta say, I am loving the energy.”

“I’m pretty sure nobody cares.”

“Any desire to tell me what this is all about?”

“Of course I know that song, it’s a very famous song. Do YOU know that song?”

“With great power comes a lot of nasty stuff don’t nobody wanna do.”

“I’m not NOT mortified right now.”

“Please tell me your day was better than mine.”

“Do I need to hide all of my breakables?”

“I can’t cook. You should see the inside of my fridge.”

“I guess we’ve just breezed right past the whole “knocking-and-waiting-for-the-other-person-to-answer” phase.”

“When I get inspired no doors will stand in my way.”

“Creative. Absolutely terrifying..”

“Could be cool. Could be confusing. Could be both. Let’s see.”

“And I’m kinda obsessed with you.”

“Door’s always open, honey.”

“So could everyone please act as if they care?”

“I haven’t breathed outside air in over forty-three hours.”

“Why did we come up with this stupid, stupid plan?”

“Dolly Parton is my spirit animal.”

“There are lots of reasons why people are unsatisfied, ___. 80% of it is sex related.”

“Do you just make these statistics up?”

“I’m gonna keep this one simple.”

“The only place I’m comfortable dancing is in my bedroom… closet.”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“First of all, that’s terrible grammar.”

“I was a drum major in high school and that mess would not have been tolerated.”

“I have always found it helpful to vent when I’m feeling dissatisfied.”

“I don’t vent, I scream into a pillow.”

“You dress like a docent at a folk art museum.”

“Wow, we’re still talking about this?”

“___, are you growing as a person?”

“And the good news is I’ve been banned from the grocery store.”

“There’s been a radical shift in the way I perceive the world, you wouldn’t understand.”

“There is nothing in the world that I love more than your smile. But not if it isn’t real.”

“Don’t make this into a thing right now.”

“That term hasn’t been used in well over a decade.”

“I can see your side eye.”

“You can take the fifth and stop telling me about it.”

“Do you know anything about faith at all?”

“I think we might be vibing again.”

“Are you sure that everything’s okay with you because I feel like maybe it’s not.”

“See, that whole “leap of faith” thing really doesn’t work for me.”

“Empathy is a wonderful gift to have.”

“I have faith. You should too.”

“I recognize your tiny footsteps.”

“Okay, that’s enough gaping at the shut in for one day.”

“I swear this is the last one.”

“Why so secretive?”

“I am very aware of what a duet is.”

“Why do I even answer the phone this early?”

“My brain does not like functioning until night o’clock.”

“What’s the good of bad news if you can’t share it?”

“I love barely meeting expectations!”

“Is it great? Feels not so great.”

“I think you’re crushing it, that’s all that matters.”

“You two would be great in a female cop show.”

“Something’s going on with you, I can tell.”

“How do you do that? Really see me. No one else has the ability.”

“I’m just not used to negative feedback.”

“Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Can I take a picture? I’m gonna take a picture.”

“Uh oh. Don’t tell me you’re depressed too.”

“My body’s doing all sorts of disgusting things to me like making liquid appear in my eyes.”

“It’s too gutless, it’s too passive-aggressive. I like aggressive-aggressive.”

“I just feel like I’m failing.”

“Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?”

“Wow. I just got a window into your soul and, baby, it is not a place I wanna visit.”

“Did you know I once stared at the ocean for literally seven hours?”

“How about you lead the way and I’ll just holler if I need any medical assistance?”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t good, right?”

“So, tell me some good news please.”

“Thank you for not trying to fix me or make me feel better. Thanks for just being real.”

“Why are you smirking?”

“Sometimes I just feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“Someone sounds like they’re in a good mood.”

“The world is waiting, so am I.���

“I have no interest in hanging around a bunch of 20-somethings talking about artisanal beer all night.”

“___, this is a classy affair. Of course they’ll be pigs in a blanket.”

“Now it’s time for a makeover which is literally my favorite thing to do.”

“No matter how hard I try I just never say the right thing.”

“At least let me help you accessorize.”

“I gotta admit this is kinda fun.”

“Now they just taste like water.”

“Who do we know with a hot tub?”

“You are super fun. Like sloppy, dance on a bar fun.”

“I might also be drunk.”

“I’m a mess… and emotional… also vodka.”

“Life doesn’t always go as planned. It just doesn’t.”

“Is it weird that I want one of those?”

“Yeah, nothing good happens after someone sings that song.”

“I hate when people assume I know their names.”

“So, you’re attractive and talented.”

“I can’t believe that happened, and how quickly…”

“If there’s something going on I’d love all our friends to hear about it.”

“You should probably leave this party before you burn something else down.”

“That’s almost funny.”

“I need that thing more than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire life and I’m ready to fight you for it if you make me.”

“I wouldn’t trust myself to ride that thing sober let alone now still halfway drunk.”

“The last thing I want to hear from you is another apology.”

“I really need to be mad at you right now.”

“Are you crying?”

“What? I’m not allowed to get emotional at a superhero movie? Lives were lost, ___. Ethical questions were raised!”

“He only responds in one letter. ‘K’? Who does that?”

“Just— let’s talk about you.”

“It’s hard to accept that I can’t do this all on my own anymore.”

“Wouldn’t peg you for a food court guy.”

“We are gonna be ultra professional from now on.”

“What’s the crisis? Did I cause it?”

“Can you believe it?! ...apparently you can and perhaps already knew?”

“___, are you okay? You look paler than usual.”

“You okay? You look shaken.”

“But I feel great and I’m gonna be totally fine.”

“Can you google that for me?”

“Are you seriously hiding from me?”

“I listen to true crime to calm myself.”

“Look, we both know I’m not good with feelings or emotions.”

“Mad respect for your pun game.”

“Men don’t check on men in bathrooms, it’s not a thing.”

“Well now I know you’re telling the truth because no one would ever lie about doing something that heartless.”

“Were we ever even friends at all?”

“Real friends have hard conversations. They owe it to each other.”

“I’m gonna get deep for a hot second so bear with me.”

“Stuff like this has been going on for a while now. You wanna tell me what’s up?”

“You’re starting to seem like a liability, man.”

“What’s the point of rising if we can’t do it together?”

“Here to pour salt on my wounds?”

“It’s all coming from a place of love.”

“It is not exactly what I expected but I’m rolling with it.”

“Watch how fast I nail this.”

“Are we talking witchcraft or just shameless career advancing?”

“I’ve got a super chill brain that never needs calming, so…”

“Was I just singing out loud?”

“Am I going crazy? I feel like I am. I mean, I don’t know what crazy feels like but I feel like this is it.”

“That’s… bad.”

“Are you fine? I mean, I know you’re not fine but…”

“Can you schedule your nervous breakdown for another day?”

“In solving one problem I’ve created another.”

“I… I don’t know why that happened.”

“Okay, yes, I’ll admit I’m in a good mood but it’s for completely unrelated reasons.”

“Okay, this is getting worse by the second.”

“I apologize in advance for whatever’s about to come out of mouth.”

“I'm really sorry. Just know, it’s not me, it’s my body.”

“That’s such a strange way to phrase that.”

“There you go, now you know. Hey, that rhymed.”

“I will go to the supermarket… one day.”

“I ruined my entire life yesterday.”

“I just call that uninspired.”

“Honestly, I think I’m broken.”

“What exactly is going on here? A creative inspiration or a massive cry for help?”

“I’m broken and I’m gonna die alone.”

“How do you go through all that suffering and not let it break you?”

“I don’t know what to do. And it’s tearing me up inside.”

“Hurt people hurt people.”

“I think it’s best if you don’t look at me or worry about and focus on what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“It can be challenging sometimes, knowing the right way and the wrong way to care for somebody.”

“Well, it’s the almost-thought that counts.”

“That’s a terrible surprise face.”

“I think it’s finally time I focus on my own happiness for a change.”

“I don’t want to talk. Lord knows that we’ve done enough talking.”

“I’m exhausted. And exhilarated. And thoroughly depleted.”

“Stay aloof, reveal nothing, keep small talk down to a minimum.”

“You’ve been there for me, I wanna be there for you.”

“Don’t smile at me, I don’t wanna look at your sad, appreciative eyes.”

“What? He’s hot, I’m weak, you do the math.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a hoodie before.”

“This would be a great place to murder someone, huh?”

“So, who’s ready to talk about death?”

“It doesn’t have to go down like this, ___.”

“You can only postpone the inevitable for so long.”

“In moments like these sometimes you have to haul out the big guns.”

“Someone better be dead or dying, I’m not in the mood.”

“I am worried. This is how I compensate.”

“I find you charming and disturbing, like a Pomeranian wearing a tutu.”

“I go big or go home.”

“Death is hideous and ugly and grotesque and wildly, wildly unfair.”

“Believe me, I’m not doing well but I’m not doing that badly either.”

“I guess we gotta face the music sometime, right?”

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Good Together

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 9,300 (sorry!)

Summary: You and Bucky have a very tumultuous relationship -- but you’re good together.

Warnings: Smut!! Angst maybe.

A/N: Inspired by “Good Together” by SHY Martin. This is my first time writing smut, so please let me know what you think and I’m so sorry if this is terrible!! Just let me knoowwww also sorry for making it so long!

...

I've been working on myself and on my patience But sometimes that shit don't come easy And I see you've been tryin' your best to give me explanations But words don't really cut it lately

“Buck, would you just listen to me,” you spat, emphasizing the last three words, shaking your hands in significance. He continued calmly putting the dishes away; you knew it was a façade: his relaxed shoulders, plain face, raised eyebrows – all a ruse to make him look like a victim. “Turn around.”

He spun quickly on his heel, still holding the clean plate in his hand, facing you with a strong tone of expectation: expectation that you had something really fucking good to say if you had to interrupt him putting the dishes away, especially since you ask him every day to help out with the chores. “Yes, dear?”

You rolled your eyes almost immediately as the term of less-than-endearment slipped off his tongue. “Listen to what I’m saying – ”

“I can multitask, (Y/N), thank you very much.” He continues on his merry way unloading the dishwasher, turning his back to you once again.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An inhale and exhale through your mouth; so quiet yet you’re sure he heard you. Focus, you thought to yourself, shutting your eyes and finding your peace. He wants you to snap. You took another deep breath, craning your neck in a circle, listening as the top of your vertebrae cracks with a loud pop! “All I’m saying,” you begin smoothly, “is that you need to stop acting like a baby.”

He scoffs, eyebrows raising in doubt. “What part of this is being a baby, (Y/N); enlighten me.” Patronizing fuck.

You swore that talking to him took more patience than raising a puppy – hell, at least the puppy would learn to listen to you. “You’re always like acting like the victim; such a martyr. I try to bring up one thing with you – have an adult discussion – and suddenly you act like it’s all my fault and that I’m crazy? Like I’m the bad guy here.”

You can feel him roll his eyes through the back of his head. He shrugs. “Look, (Y/N), all I was saying was that you were bitchin’ over nothin’ – all I did was apologize.”

You actually laughed arrogantly, reminding him what he stated earlier, laying the sarcasm on as heavily as he did: “oh, I’m so sorry, (Y/N). Sorry that I have eyes and like to use them to look around.” You narrowed your eyes at him, finally gaining his full attention as he fisted the cutlery. “Sorry, how does having eyes justify you eye-fucking the girl behind me?”

“I wasn’t even staring – ”

And you snapped. In his defense, you maybe sounded a little shrill when you flipped out at him; your voice did, in fact, raise about twelve octaves. “You were literally undressing her with your eyes, James.” You threw up your hands in the air, exaggerating a groan as your head dropped back. “You probably have x-ray vision, don’t you?” You accused, almost jokingly. But as he narrowed his eyes as he hesitated to say something back, searching his mind for the proper response – but you were too fast. “You fucking do, don’t you, you piece of shit. Of course – ”

The sound of shattering glass cut you off immediately. You opened your eyes and straightened your stance to be faced with Bucky, butter knife in his hand, and a plate, split perfectly in half, sitting on the counter beside him. His blue eyes were squeezed tight in control, his flesh hand gripping the knife so hard that his knuckles had gone white. You stared at the porcelain dinner plate, feignedly wondering if that’s what he wanted to do to you.

Deep down, you knew he would never lay a hand on you; he always insisted on throwing or breaking something when he became so frustrated with his anger – with you. He’d gone so far as to throw a lamp at the wall (in the opposite direction of you, of course); thus, showing his intention to release his anger and not an intention to hurt you. The two of you had been working on different ways to channel his anger; however, as he stated: he was used to a life of destruction, so that’s how he vented. He found that it got the job done: it got you to shut the fuck up.

“I don’t have x-ray vision, don’t be a child about it.” His voice was surprisingly calm, especially considering how he still hadn’t put the knife down. “I wasn’t even starting. I glanced at her – in her direction.”

This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, though. That’s the issue that he didn’t comprehend. You let out a sigh, speaking calmer than you had all night. “Bucky, I’m just sick of having this same conversation, please,” you pleaded, taking a step closer. He remained silent and still, eyeing you as you approached him. “I feel like I’m not asking for much.” Stop staring at other girls while you’re on a date with me: not much. It was not only infuriating, it was embarrassing.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting the knife on the counter beside the pieces of plate, turning his head down. “I didn’t mean to be doing it. I just get distracted.” His voice was quiet, almost child-like as it rose in inflection.

You were torn. You could believe what he was saying, hoping that this time he’d actually be telling the truth: you knew he had a short attention span, and he did have a tendency to space out a lot. But you were caught between believing that and the fact he had spaced out in the direction of a girl with a significantly low-cut blouse. These other times, he liked to play the victim-card, blaming his less-than-appealing tendencies on his poorer qualities that, technically, nobody could refute him having.

You’d learned to read through his words, though. And this time, it was the latter.

Remember when our love was precious We thought what we had was the best, yeah Now every answer's a question Like every night is one of us is getting aggressive The other one's acting possessive Guess it's the way that we do shit now

Your fights had grown frequent.

Your relationship had grown volatile.

Not that it wasn’t based on your tumultuous roots – but it had just gotten so much worse lately.

This relationship started off fairly normal, however, the cherished affair the two of you shared quickly became tainted through the media. Countless news outlets had gotten word of the coupling instantaneously, leaving the two of you swamped with paparazzi and yelling passerby’s every time either of you left your houses. It was quite the shock that James Buchanan Barnes had a girlfriend – a regular girlfriend, too; a non-Avenger. People were quick to sell you out, too. Close friends and even some family selling information about your relationship (and even just material about you) to make a quick buck.

It had gotten the best of the both of you early on. Bucky was tired of being constantly followed and photographed. He was a man who had grown used to solitude and, while he was slowly but surely adapting to twenty-first century life and everything that came along with that, all of the flashing lights and constant yelling made him want to climb into a hole and live in the dark forever.

You, similarly, were extremely unaccustomed to this. Suddenly, you were on the cover of magazines, reading articles about yourself in People & Us magazines, scrolling through stories of yourself on Snapchat. Old friends, people from college, even some work colleagues sold stories about you to the tabloids. Maybe some of the resentment that you held towards them reflected upon Bucky. You didn’t think about it often, but maybe there was a correlation – an unfair correlation, obviously. Your hatred on the outside world didn’t equate to hatred towards Bucky, but you still aimed it towards him quite a bit.

Bucky, never slow to defend himself, returned said animosity right back at you. The two of you picked each other apart until you were both bloody and raw.

Tonight was no different.

The entire evening, meant to be romantic, turned into a fight. You both intended for event at Stark Industries to be uneventful: a night of mingling with friends, reminiscing in old stories, and drinking expensive champagne. It started off halfway decent, that is, until you started meeting more of the people that worked at the Tower.

You had no problem hanging out with the rest of the Avengers – especially Sam, who you bonded with through teasing Bucky (nothing but love, of course), but when it came to meeting a couple other supporting agents, you were a little out of you element.

Take, for example, Agent Toller, who came up to you and Bucky early on, greeting him kindly with a hug and introducing herself to you with a handshake.  “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! Bucky’s told me so much about you!” You smiled genuinely at her statement, responding and continuing the conversation. It, of course, came to a point where she slung her arm around his and stated matter-of-factly: “You better keep him locked up. I know a lot of ladies wanting to get their hands on him.”

Your lungs deflated. Including herself, apparently. “I’ll do my best,” you reply through gritted teeth.

Then there was Agent Rivers, who straight off the bat ignored you. She came up to Bucky telling him she finally mastered the thigh-grip, a move, she later clarified, made notorious through Black Widow. “All that time in the gym finally paid off, huh,” Bucky teased.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she beamed back, touching a hand to his arm.

He rolled his eyes playfully, chuckling. “Please, just playing the dummy – as usual.”

She merrily smacked his arm, grinning. “Don’t say that, Buck.”

You stood next to Bucky, staring up at the man blankly. Rivers trotted off once she caught wind of you glaring at Bucky. Plucking another glass of champagne from the passing server, you took a long sip, finally asking: “So, Buck, what would be your part in her mastering this thigh grip?” It was a bit condescending, a little irked, and extremely sarcastic. The image of her perfect legs around your boyfriends neck did not sit right with you.

Was he more of a flirt than you remembered? It had been ages since he’s properly flirted with you. It was nothing to get angsty about; its not like you had anything to truly worry about. He came home every evening, spent the night in your bed with you; save for when he went on missions, but surely, he wasn’t accompanied by any women you had to worry about, at least – Natasha and Wanda had your full confidence. But it wasn’t the women that bothered you; you shouldn’t have to worry about Bucky. No matter how many beautiful, strong, talented women flirted with him, he should shut them down – not flirt back literally in front of you.

A few more introductions played out exactly like that, so a few more glasses of champagne were necessary for you to get through the evening. At one point you actually started having a good time. You’d left Bucky to chat with the boys while you found sanctuary in your girlfriends off to the side. You were able to air out your grievances, confidential information falling onto open ears. They took your mind off it by bringing up their own drama, in which you all openly made jokes and critiques, the liquor now fully streaming through all of your bloodstreams.

Once the party started to clear out and even some of the Avengers began to leave, Bucky swooped by your pow-wow and wrapped his arm around your waist, whispering a quiet “ready to go?” in your ear. You and Bucky walked out with Sam and his girlfriend, chatting casually.

As you expected, as soon as the pair spilt off from you two, everything fell silent. Not the good silent: the silence that swirled around you two as your gazed at stars together, the silence as you laid napping in each other’s arms on the couch, the silence that comforted him after a nightmare, accompanied by your fingers curling through his hair. No; this was the silence filled with tension; it was the kind of silence that you’d rather die than have to ride home in the car with him not talking to you.

You bit your lip when you brought it up.

He actually laughed, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on his lap. He turned his head to you momentarily, a glint in his eye as his smile mocked you. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“They’re all throwing themselves at you!” You clarify, exasperated, throwing your hands in your lap, turning towards him underneath your seatbelt.

“I can’t help that, can I?” He shrugged it off, turning back to the road, reclining farther in his seat, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. Smug bastard.

“Yes, James. It’s called personal space and we all have it.” You spoke slowly, enunciating each work clearly. “It would really kill you to tell these girls to stop touching you?” He pulled into a parking spot in front of your apartment and got out of the car without even letting you finish. You followed suit, trialing him up the few steps to the front door. “Every single woman you talked to had her hands all over you.”

He shoves the door open, leaving it wide open for you. “I wasn’t touching them, was I?” He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back. He groaned and pulled at the tips, acting as if any sort of physical torture would be more preferable to this conversation. “No, my hand was on you the whole entire time, (Y/N). It’s not an issue.”

You slammed the door, crossing your arms over your chest. “Really?” You questioned, tone and volume raising significantly. “So, you don’t care about them touching you in front of your girlfriend? It’s not an issue? Forget it just pissing me off – you don’t think that was fucking embarrassing for me?”

He shrugged earnestly, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips.

Taking a page out of his book, you pick up the closest thing in arms-length: the half-empty wine bottle you’d left on the table from earlier. You don’t intentionally aim for Bucky, but maybe you weren’t seeing as clearly as you thought you were. It narrowly swipes past him as you drive it into the wall, only marginally missing him because he took a step sideways. His eyes are wide momentarily, turning his head from the large red splotch dripping down the white wall back to focus on you. Instantly, his posture changes: he’s standing upright, more alert – no longer seeing you as annoying instead of nonthreatening; his chest puffs out, his eyebrows knit together, lips pressed into a firm line as he glowers at you. “What. The. Fuck.” His teeth are barred, the words coming out bitterly.

“Oh,” you scoffed, unable to hide the smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t like it when I do it to you?” If you were in his position, you’d want to slap yourself. You were only taunting the beast, speaking to him in such a patronizing tone. You couldn’t help yourself, though; it was finally a taste of his own medicine: to be treated like a child. You bit your lip, trying to smother the smile pulling your lips as you watched with half-lidded eyes as he strutted towards you.

“You don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

You raised your eyebrows in challenge. “Says who?”

He stares down at you, another stride forward, consuming all the space left between the both of you. Taking one more step, he backs you into the wall. Your shoulder blades make contact with the cold plaster. “I do.” His voice was rough, about six octaves lower than usual, volume barely above a whisper, yet so much anger in his tone. You laugh, breathing out, sneering at him. “You better wipe that smile off those pretty little lips.” His voice did not waver; there was no inflection nor cadence of amusement.

Your smirk does not faulter. “Make me.” His metal hand snakes around the base of your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck. He watches in amusement as your smile quickly drops into an open mouth, gasping as you struggle to take in a sharp breath in shock.

His hips press into yours, hip bones jamming into each other’s. His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in closer to you, chest against chest. “Not so funny now, is it, baby?”

You and me we never say we're sorry Hands around my body Fucking 'til we're good Fucking 'til we're good And we promise we'll do better Both go down together Fucking 'til we're good

You stare up at him under your eyelashes and focus all your energy on inhaling and exhaling through your nose – this wasn’t your first rodeo.

He watches you, jaw tense, flexing at the sharp contour under his ears. You feel his angered breath as it warms the air over your nose. He grinds his hips up against yours, just moving ever so slightly, pushing his thigh in between your legs. You narrow your eyes at him, clenching your own jaw and huffing out a sharp breath. Your hands flew up to his metal forearm to have something you could hold onto as your oxygen left your lungs.

He leans in once again to whisper in your ear. “What’s that, baby?” He coos condescendingly. He kisses the spot just under your earlobe, the sensitive skin sending a jolt through your body. He trails a few more kisses under your jaw, just above his hand; each kiss becoming progressively longer and sloppier. He makes his way to your other ear, now pressing his lips right up against the cartilage. “You got more to say to me?” His metal fingers and his left leg. His thigh hitches farther up, you’re now practically sitting on his leg – trying to stabilize yourself on your tiptoes. His fingers squeeze your throat, causing you to shut your eyes as you release the breath from your lungs with a whine. He hums in response – you can feel his smile pressing into your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

Your eyes open at the sudden loss of contact as his grip loosens and he shifts back in front of you, face-to-face. He stares at you through the dark strands of hair that had fallen loose in front of his face, his eyes dark and clouded over with lust. You imagine you looked the same way, completely disheveled, staring up at him with nothing but desire. Your legs clench around his thigh, pulling yourself farther down onto his muscle-bound leg.

Bucky leans down, slowly diving in for the kiss.

But he stops too soon, his bottom lip just brushing yours. You try to meet him halfway, struggling against the sturdy grip on your throat. You can’t help but groan, eyebrows pulling together in need as he beams down at your joyfully. “You wanna tell me what you need, baby?”

“Touch me,” you whine, hips now moving ever so slightly against his thigh. You couldn’t move much, considering you were barely balanced on there, but you could manage.

“Touch you?” He questioned, quickly swooping forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely. As soon as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, he tore himself far enough from your lips to speak in a hushed tone: “Touch you like those girls were touching me?”

Fuck. Immediately without thinking, you release his forearm where your hands previously rested, pushing back on his chest as hard as you absolutely could. He stumbled back a couple steps, completely taken off guard. God, you were so hot when you were aggressive like that. He loved pushing you to your breaking point: to the point where you’d begin to assert yourself towards him. He loved when you stood up to him, reeling in anger, just so he could take charge and show you who was boss.

It was an adrenaline rush for him.

For you, too.

You stood before him, fists clenched in rage, staring at him. He was just barely smirking, eyelids half shut, a hungry look on his face. Ever the challenge, he would conquer you.

You nearly jumped when he pounced, taking him up against you, legs twined around his back, arms locked behind his neck. His tongue was hot on yours, meeting in a seething hot kiss. His hands immediately palmed at your ass underneath your cocktail dress that had now ridden up to pool at your waist.

As he began up the stairs towards the bedroom, you broke the kiss – with a displeased groan from Bucky – and laid a sloppy trail of kisses and licks along his throat and to his ear. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw (his weak spot), touching your tongue to his hot skin, following it with another kiss. His steps stuttered, his knees buckling as he took the next step. He groaned deep somewhere in the back of his throat, pinching your ass, a quick slap ensuing afterwards as he regained his footing and kicked open the bedroom door.

He tossed you on the bed, wasting no time in grabbing the back collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head and onto the floor in one swift motion, completely disregarding the row of buttons sewed along the front. You took the hint, shimmying off your tight dress while laying on the mattress. He followed suit with his pants and underwear off next. As soon as the cool bedroom air hit his body, he was throwing himself on top of you, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and unhooking your bra. He discarded your underwear next, pitching it over his shoulder, fingers immediately finding your pussy and sinking in.

He took you by surprise, eyes squeezing shut and knees involuntarily closing together. Bucky used his hand to hold one leg down, prying them apart completely. He looked between his hand – his fingers pushing in and out of you completely soaked – and your face – eyebrows knitted together and mouth hanging open. He didn’t know which view he liked better. “Shit, baby, you been this wet the whole time?”

That was the thing about Bucky – he was a talker. If he wasn’t egging you on, then he was filling the room with his vulgar commentary and dirty talk. He added another finger, pumping in and out of you faster, obscene sounds blocking out anything and everything he said. He moved his metal hand from your knee to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, contrasting to his other movements. His metal hand was great – sensitive, temperature resistant; better than his flesh hand – but, god, there was something about feeling your wet cunt on his own skin drove him crazy.

You gasped, quickly biting your lip in anticipation of your orgasm. “Oh yeah, baby? That feel good?” He huffed, thumb whirling on your clit faster. He hunched to lay a kiss on your breast, meeting you hallway sitting-up to capture his lips with yours. You released the sheets you’d been clutching, instead opting to fist his hair, pulling his mouth hungrily to yours. As your body throbbed and your pussy clenched around his fingers, you moan into his mouth, falling back onto the bed.

Bucky sat upright on the bed and watched you as you laid on the bed completely blissed out; hair splayed across the mattress around your head, chest heaving up and down, legs shut – shaking ­– but knees pulled together, arms once pulling taught at his hair now limp on either side of you.

He waited patiently for about forty-five seconds for you to open your eyes. As soon as you did – without enough time for your eyes to even focus on him, he grabbed your waist, flipping you on the bed, gripping your hips to pull you ass to his face. He truly was a face-down ass-up kind of guy. Not that you minded.

You squeaked, burying your face in the sheets as his hand slapped your ass; his palm following to rub away the burning hot sensation it left behind. You felt his tongue drag a long line up from your clit to your tight hole, taking extra note to curl inside your leaking pussy.

Bucky wasted no more time in straightening up and giving his cock a few pumps, smearing his precum all the way down to the base. He grabbed your hip in one hand, guiding his dick to drive into you with the other. He sighed, your soaking wet, tight cunt squeezing him as he pounded into you from behind. He took hold of both your hips, balancing himself on his knees, pulling you backwards on his dick as he rifled his hips forward.

His momentum drove him forward, nearly folding on top of you, your ass pushed dangerously high in the air, tits and face pressed firmly into the mattress, muffling the sounds that escaped you every time the tip of his cock drove into you. His metal hand remained gripping your hipbone, his other palm pressing flat into the curve at the small of your back, pressing your arch deeper and ass further up as your ribcage met the top of the mattress.

He pounded relentlessly into you, the tiniest change in position making your pussy even tighter around him. “Take it,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Take my fucking dick, baby.” You couldn’t help but release a short breathy moan every time his dick brushed against the very edge of your cervix.

Bucky gathered a fistful of your hair in his metal hand, half slipping out, the other half tangled dangerously in between the death grip of his fingers. He hauled you up, causing you to yelp as you tried desperately to push yourself up. He never let go of your hair, instead using it as a vice to keep your back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest, yelping as he did so.

The pain subsided quickly as his other hand found your still sensitive clit, rubbing it with fast, loose circles. You dropped your head, no longer resisting him pulling it back, falling against his shoulder. “That’s my good girl,” he cooed, driving his dick upwards into your wet cunt; the soft pants you made egging him on.

He waited until he could sense your orgasm – feeling your muscles clench, your body stiffen, temperature rise – before he let himself cum, pumping thick ropes of his cum deep into you. His fingers didn’t stop working on your clit – in fact, they moved even faster even harder. You came with a shriek, his hand finally releasing your hair, allowing you to drop forward onto the mattress.

You didn’t move – couldn’t move – but Bucky followed suit, hovering lowly over you, pressing kisses down your spine, reveling in the feeling of his cum dripping out of your pussy around his dick still warm inside of you.

We don't do no, we don't do no conversations We don't talk the way we used to You act like we're all good sometimes, you know I hate it 'Cause it's so obvious it ain't true

“Hey, Buck,” you called from the kitchen as he walked through the front door. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even look in your remote direction. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his keys on the table, and walked directly past you to grab a snack from the fridge. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen,” you mention, watching as he already began devouring the left-over chicken legs from the other day.

You gave him the benefit of the doubt: maybe he had a bad day. You continued chopping the onion, minding your business, silently cursing him out. He can’t even give you a simple hello back? Yes, a bad day makes anyone want to come home and eat a whole meal, but does it really give him the excuse to eat a whole meal right as you’re working on dinner in front of him? If you knew his plan was to eat cold chicken for dinner, you would’ve gone out to eat by yourself instead of making supper for the both of you.

As you started working on mincing the garlic, you mulled over last nights’ events. The two of you had it out, sure, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. You’d fought, made up, even cuddled when you went to sleep. Now today he was going to flat out ignore you with no rhyme or reason. Unless something did happen – something regarding his coworkers? It wouldn’t be impossible, you thought to yourself, bitterly slamming the knife on the cutting board.

“Can you chill with that?” Bucky grumbled, finally looking in your direction, mouth full as he spoke to you in an irritated tone.

“I’m chill,” you mumbled, scraping the contents of the chopping block into the pan, a sizzle filling the silence that now washed over the two of you.

“What’s your problem?” He muttered, mostly to himself, as he took another bite.

“You’re my fucking problem.” You earnestly didn’t mean for him to hear it; if it weren’t for his goddamn super soldier hearing, he wouldn’t have.

He sighed heavily. “What did I do? I’ve been home all of two-minutes.”

You abandoned your pan, turning on your heel to face him. “You’re always ignoring me.”

“What?” He questioned, dropping the container on the counter and raising his hands up. “I can’t enjoy silence anymore? Do you want me to hate every aspect of my life?” He bit his tongue, immediately regretting what he said, but lacking the filter to be able to stop himself. He just wanted for once to be able to have a conversation – actually, he wanted for once to not have to have a conversation – but to have one without arguing would be a gift from god.

You lay the wooden spoon on the island counter between the two of you, the smell of burning onions and garlic now very fragrant in the space between you. “Damn, I wish I knew you hated your life earlier,” you sigh. He rolls his eyes, preparing a refute about how you always seem to blow things out of proportion, but you cut him off before he can open his mouth. “I would’ve left a long time ago.”

He’s the one who was always incapable of talking. One small thing ticks him off and suddenly the only thing he’s capable of doing is shutting himself in a dark room alone. He’s always shutting you out and pushing you away; and all you every try to do is something nice for him – making him dinner, offering an open ear to ramble off some steam – but he always ends up throwing your good deeds back in his face.

Not anymore.

You simply walk out the door. You took your purse, your keys, put on your shoes, and left him standing alone in the kitchen with his chicken.

Maybe it was an overreaction. However, you felt that it was fine based on how he acts like this every day. Was he doing it so you’d fight, and he could just have angry sex with you to make it okay later? Did he genuinely not want to talk to you – ever? If he really hated his life – and you in it – he would surely let you know? Unless this was the actual way he was letting you know? He didn’t call out after you, he just rolled his eyes and let you walk out the door.

Not extremely surprising, but it did hurt your feelings a bit. How could it not? The man you loved for the past two years, put up with this tumultuous relationship for, dealt with his mood swings, waited for him to come back home to you  – all that for him to tell you he hated his life? His life that you entered and made so much better; at least, that’s what you thought.

So, you gave him a day. If silence and peace was what he truly wanted, you’d give it to him. You crashed at your friend’s place that evening, taking that bumpy couch so Bucky would have his time alone.

The only issue is that he didn’t call you the next day. He didn’t call or text.

He was waiting for you to come back to him. Understandable but annoying – aggravating. You (and your friend) hatched out a plan. You waited until he left for work before you returned home, grabbing a few necessities: clothes, toothbrush, the works, and heading back out to her place. There was no doubt that he would know you were gone. This happened twice before. That you became so irritated with him that you left for the night. But you went back the next day, coming home to him lounging on the couch with not a care in the world, hindsight told you that much. You’d simply laid on top of him, his arms snaking around your waist and your face buried in his neck. He waited for you to come back because that’s what he knew you’d do.

This time, you wanted him to reach out. To see if you were okay. To see if you were coming home. You felt like the only one putting in effort and you were so tired. That effort, of course, was shown in the fights the two of you had. You might be able to pin 75% of said arguments on you; but yelling at him was the only way to get through to him. Boy, he loved to fight. You’d honestly never seen him show off such emotion. You brought everything up – the other women all over him, his attitude problems, everything that bothered you. But he never said anything to you. He was so apathetic towards you that he barely spoke to you anymore. He didn’t ask how your day was, he didn’t get jealous when another guy flirted with you, he didn’t even respond to you saying hello – he was completely apathetic.

You waited four days: Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

Monday, actually, you called in sick for work. You were caught between sobbing to your friend about how much Bucky didn’t care about you and wanting to show up to the Avengers Tower with your fists clenched and a certain red-headed Russian spy to back you up. There was no word from him. He obviously saw some of your things were missing; hell, he probably knew exactly where you were, too. He just didn’t do anything about it.

He obviously didn’t care, so you wouldn’t either.

So good together Maybe I'm crazy Maybe we're crazy No one loves me better Than you, you, you, you

It was clear that you were broken up. Neither of you said anything, but you slowly started to move out of your shared apartment, taking small amounts every day while he was at work until you were fully moved out and into the spare bedroom at your sister’s place on the other side of the city. It made your commute to work a little harder, now having to take two trains and walk a couple blocks; but you learned to appreciate the city, the architecture, the weather. Living with her was great – she was a built-in friend; but it wasn’t living with Bucky.

You were a little heartbroken – maybe more bitter. He just let you go without a fight.

Without a single word.

It was four months of binge-eating, wine-drinking and moping around about Bucky before you had a date. The date itself was fine. The guy was cute enough, funny enough, sweet enough. Your sister convinced you to go out with him again. You almost used him just to take your mind off Bucky. You felt bad about it, but he technically knew you and Bucky dated not long ago.

Everybody knew. It was in the tabloids. They photographed the two of you separately. They connected the dots after they hadn’t seen you and him together for a few weeks. Instead, they only got photos of you or him doing mundane things: you grocery shopping, Bucky going for a run around Central Park; you sitting on the train on your way home from work, Bucky saving the world.

Although you never grew to like having paparazzi take photos of your every step, you’d grown accustomed to it. You never made the front page or headline news, more reserved to as a style-guide or just a few Buzzfeed articles about yourself. Bucky, however, made headlines a lot. You had to speed walk past the newspaper and magazine stands around the city because you didn’t want to see him: whether he was decked out in armor, fighting bad guys, or simply smiling alongside Steve and Sam as they enjoyed one rare night out – you didn’t want to know about any of it.

You continued to see Oliver, almost seriously now, but trying to see past the whole using-him-as-a-rebound mentality. You’d gone on a few more dates, and, before you knew it, he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. He was awkward in a cute sort of way – couldn’t be more of the polar opposite of Bucky.

Bucky had a demanding, intimidating presence; Oliver stood lanky and slender. Bucky was every bit of tall-dark-and-handsome; Oliver was fair and pale. Bucky’s attitude read toxic, masculine, and provocative; Oliver read like a nerdy-teenager, meekly quiet.

While there was nothing wrong with Oliver, he just wasn’t Bucky.

There was another aspect in which Oliver didn’t hold a candle to Bucky.

In. The. Bedroom.

You may not have been in love with Oliver, but, damn, after six months a bitch gets horny. It was fine at first, you were going to throw a dog a bone and not judge him too much the first round. After all, he was genuinely nice and seemed to care about you a lot, so you weren’t about to crush his heart just because he couldn’t make you cum the first time.

You’d grown to a certain level of intimacy with Bucky. One minute you could be making love – softly, sensually; the next minute he could be choking you and fucking you senseless. A long time was spent building the light affection between the two of you, before either of you even got comfortable with the toxicity and animosity that surrounded you – that egged you on, riling each other up until it was too much and you’d just explode. And maybe that was your problem. Each of you had too much pride and hidden hostility that it engulfed you. You’d lost touch with your younger selves. That became your downfall.

You tried not to think about it too much. Especially when you were in Oliver’s bed and he was kissing your neck. Exactly the position you were in at that exact moment.

His lips were sucking a hickey on your neck as he fucked you slowly. You laid flat on the bed, his elbows bent on either side of your ribcage, head tucked under your jaw. “You like that?” He whispered, dragging his hand down your stomach, fingers desperately trying to find your clit.

You laid there like a dead fish. There was no way you were going to be able to stand this for any longer. You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him off your body. “Let’s switch,” you suggested.

He laid down in your place, allowing you to hop on, reverse cowgirl, fucking yourself the way you wanted.

Bucky liked it when you did that. And you liked the way that Bucky would’ve let you use his dick to get yourself off, smacking your ass along the way, spurring you on. “Fuck, I love it when you ride me like this, baby,” he’d groan, snapping his hips up to match yours.

Oliver stayed quiet, breathing heavily as he watched your perky ass bounce up and down in front of him. You were just getting into rhythm when he began to groan behind you. No, no, no, please. One more minute, you begged, cadence not faltering. Before long – before you came­ – Oliver finished, leaving you with no other choice than to lay on the bed beside him. He pressed a breathless kiss to your lips. “That was amazing,” he mumbled against your lips. “Did you cum?”

Yeah fucking right. You kissed him again, humming in neither confirmation nor opposition. He got up and shimmied to the bathroom to dispose of the used condom. You shut your eyes and nearly face-palmed yourself.

God, Bucky had ruined you.

Ruined your emotions, your life, your perception of love.

Ruined you for any other man.

So, laying in Oliver’s bed, unsatisfied, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d want to off yourself if Bucky slept with someone else – especially Toller or Rivers. You were broken up. It had been months – nearly a year. Hell, even you were technically sleeping with someone else.

But just the thought of him treating someone else the way he did you – pulling her hair, fucking her, eating her out, making her scream his name like it was the only word she knew – it devastated you.

You promise yourself not to ask and never to find out.

If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? If it isn't love, tell me why do we feel so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? So good together

You broke up with Oliver that night. It was better for everyone.

You felt it best to take this time to focus on yourself. Hell, you spent your whole past relationship focusing on Bucky, you spent all of your time with Oliver focusing on how he wasn’t Bucky.

This was about you. It was about your career, your health, your sanity.

Your broken heart.

No matter how hard you threw yourself into your work, how much you worked out, how much you refined your cooking, how many self-help books you read – you felt empty.

You got promoted at work, you built your confidence up, your pallet refined, you loved yourself more than you ever had – something was still missing.

And that’s how you ended up with your phone ringing against your ear, Bucky sitting silently on the other end.

He agreed to meet you. As you walked up the stairs from the subways station, your heartstrings tightened as you walked around your old neighborhood. It had been a year since you’d really been back here; you’d passed through occasionally, but never wanted to take your time travelling down the streets, as it was too painful. There were too many memories of you and Bucky walking hand-in-hand down these streets.

You strolled down your old block, stopping in front of your old apartment. Books and plants cluttered the front windowsill, CDs stacked along the side, bright lights shining across the windowpane, a shadow cast over the glass.

Of course Bucky sold the place. You left. He had no reason to keep it. He had a place at the Tower. He had people there. He had a life there.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing the collar of your coat higher around your neck, shielding yourself from the cold New York winter evening. You turned the corner at the end of the block, seeking shelter in the coffee shop. Bucky agreed to meet you here; it was neutral ground for the both of you. You’d had plenty of dates there, Sundays spent catching up on work and getting coffee. There were no bad memories here, no fights, no fowl words, no animosity. Only hand holding, hot coffee, and shy smiles passed from over the small tables.

You pulled open the door to the shop, sighing in relief as the warm air hit your cheeks. You stopped suddenly in your tracks, breath hitching in the back of your throat.

There he sat, fifteen minutes earlier than you planned, wrapped in that navy-blue sweater you loved – you loved to wear – waiting for you. You couldn’t feel your legs. You couldn’t take a step forward.

You barely recognized him. Obviously, you’d never miss him. He just looked so different. His hair was cut – short. He was clean shaven. He was a completely different man.

He stared you up and down. You looked good, he could tell even with your thick winter jacket and tall boots. He missed your face, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your smell – everything. He waited for you to walk over to the table; it took about two more minutes of you staring at him before you even made your first step closer.

You finally took a seat at the opposite side of his table, a large latte already waiting for you. Your hands were shaking as your held it against the porcelain cup. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. His handsome blue eyes. His chestnut locks brushed back nearly away from his face, showing off his chiseled cheekbones and jawline. You loved his long hair, you loved grabbing it, you loved the way it hung in his eyes, contrasting his blue eyes; it made him look so edgy. But this Bucky. Ladies’ man, charming, mesmerizing. You’d only seen pictures of Bucky like this, but you couldn’t believe how alluring he actually looked in real life.

Bucky with long hair would fuck you raw until you screamed yourself raw – Bucky with short hair would smile while doing it.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice failing you as you dropped your eyes to your latte.

You saw him nod at you from under your eyelashes. He lifted his own coffee to his mouth, taking a long sip before clearing his throat, gaining his full attention. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him wide-eyed. “So…” he began softly, giving you a half smile. “You’re the one that called me here.”

You stared blankly at him. He was right. It had been over a year and you’d called him up. Why? The answer escaped even your own mind. You didn’t know what compelled you to call him or what your plan was going to be once you actually sat down in front of him. “I guess…” you sighed loudly, dropping your eyes again. “I – I was wondering…” You lost your voice again.

“Why I never called?” He finished for you. He looked sad, once you finally gained the courage to raise your head again. He stared blankly at you, very matter-of-factly. You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He confirmed your nod with one of his own, taking another sip of his coffee. “I didn’t think I should drag you down anymore.”

You rolled your eyes. Just like old times. “Stop playing the victim, James. That’s why I walked.” You took the first sip of your latte, cooled now after it had been sitting out.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but you were right. Just like old times. He shrugged casually, trying to keep his cards close to his chest. “I just thought you’d be better off without me.” He stops himself from reaching across the table and taking your hand. “And that’s being honest.”

You nodded, processing his words. “We weren’t good for each other, huh,” you muttered over the rim of your glass.

“It was kind of toxic,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle following after. He tugged his knit sleeve farther up his arm, flexing it behind his head and pulling at the tips of his hair at the top of his neck.

“You hair looks nice,” you throw in, filling the silence that had fallen between you.

“Thanks. Just needed a change-up,” he replied, dropping his hand to the tabletop.

You nodded softly. You leaving his life wasn’t enough change? “I just wanted you to want me to come back,” you blurt. That’s the change you were waiting for.

He slowly let out his breath, shifting in his chair. His eyebrows raised at the accusation. “I don’t know how you could think that I didn’t want you back.”

“Buy you didn’t say anything,” you protested, laying your hands on the table, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “Every time I left – you never tried to call, text – nothing.”

He brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing his jaw firmly. It was his old habit dying hard; back when he had a beard, he used to scratch at it all the time, you used to run your fingers against it, used to revel in the feeling of it brushing roughly against your thighs. “(Y/N),” he sighed. “I didn’t know what I was doing – I was stupid. Look, I thought about what I said to you for days; Every day that you’ve been done, actually. I treated you like shit.”

“Well,” you interjected. “It goes both ways.”

Neither of you could hold back your smiles. God, you treated each other like shit. But that didn’t stop either of you from loving each other as much as you did. “A little pain with the pleasure,” he mumbled, drinking his coffee. “So, you called me just to ask me that?”

You sighed, now your turn to awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “I missed you.”

And that’s how you ended up at the Avenger’s Tower, Bucky throwing you on his bed. He laid on top of you, bringing his lips to yours. You fisted at his sweater, trying to tug it off of him, Bucky breaking off the kiss just to pull it off his back, his lips finding yours once again. You kicked off your boots as Bucky unbuttoned your jeans, making quick work pulling them off your legs. You sweater followed suit, lifting your torso off the bed so he could peel it off you. As soon as your skin was exposed, Bucky’s lips attached to your warm flesh.

He trailed his tongue and wet lips against your collarbone, trailing it down your chest, then between the valley of your breasts. He quickly pulled off your bra, throwing it on the ground beside the bed. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking softly, flicking the tip of his tongue over your nipple. He continued downwards, kissing the underside of your breast and down your ribcage.

Your breath hitched as his tongue dragged across your warm slit; he let out a low moan, reveling in the taste he’d been missing for so long. His hands found your inner thighs, pushing them apart, pinning them to the bed. Your hands slid through his hair, grabbing handfuls of his chestnut locks, short strands slipping through your fingers.

He laid his tongue flat against your slit, pointing the tip to curl between your lips to taste your juice. He circled his tongue gently at your clit, his hand finding your lips, spreading open your pussy and spreading you open with two fingers. He pumped in and out of you slowly, indulging himself in your velvet cunt.

He hummed against your clit, kissing it softly before groaning into your folds. He added a third finger, joining them with his tongue as he stretched you open, licking his fingers clean afterwards. He ate you out with vigor, rapidly fucking you with his tongue and fingers.

As he continued tongue-fucking you, he pulled his fingers out, holding them up to your face. He looked up at your from over your pussy, holding his fingers to your mouth. “You taste so good, baby,” he whispered against your clit.

You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. You shut your eyes, swirling your tongue around his first two fingers as you sucked of the salty taste. You moaned around his fingers, Bucky’s face burying itself deeper into your pussy. As he sucked your clit, you sighed, dropping your head against the mattress and shutting your eyes tightly. You were surrounded by darkness and a sudden bright light.

He kissed your sensitive clit, kissing up your pubic bone and making his way up to your lips. “I missed your sweet pussy, baby.” You moaned, something about his low voice whispering against your lips, talking about how good you tasted that made you melt.

“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, fingers dragging through his hair, pulling at the ends. “I need you.”

He sighed, staring down at you. You were glowing. Sweat beading along your hairline, eyes glazed over and shining, skin luminous. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered, gazing into your eyes in admiration. “And I want you to know that I’m not letting you leave again – ” he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, his tongue running against your bottom lip. You parted your lips to accommodate his tongue, although he pulled away from you. “And I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Your heart was heavy as it leaped into the back of your throat. Your breathing shallowed – and it wasn’t because of Bucky’s bodyweight laying on your chest. You blinked the tears away from your eyes, willing for them to not fall in this exact moment. “I love you, James.”

After two chaste kisses to your lips, he buried his head in the crook of you neck, lining up his cock with your entrance. As he pushed into you, he sighed against your collarbone, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He bit into your shoulder, you eyes rolling to the back of your head as he bottomed out inside of you.

You hadn’t been stretched like this in so long. You felt like you could be torn in two as he impaled you. It hurt in all the best ways.

You gasped as he pulled out of you, quickly shoving back in – he bit his lip, nearly cumming in that exact moment. You were so tight, so wet. Nobody could fuck you like this – nobody could make love to you like this.

He took hold of your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, calves resting against his collarbones. He took a hold of your upper thigh with one hand, intertwining his fingers with yours in his other hand, pressing it into the mattress. He angled his hips directly on top of yours, pounding straight on top of you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the hot, steamy room, your sounds muffled by Bucky as he swallowed your moans.

He kissed you sloppily, his cock pulsating in your pussy, you writing underneath him – it was driving him crazy. It had been over a year since he had you under him: a squirming mess. You almost had to push him off of you – out of you – it was nearly too much. His wet lips on yours, his hot breath on your skin, his words whispered in your ear, you overly sensitive clit. This is what you’d been missing: all the pleasure that made the pain so worth it. The endless fights, the ruthless words, the meaningless fights.

Unbeknownst to either of you, it was the moment in which you both came simultaneously, in which you both silently promised each other to love each other forever – to never make the other hurt that badly again.

[lokilickedme]

Well today was a shitshow.  Sit down and lemme tell you a little story about trusting your gut when someone seems too fakey-nice to be real.

Actually you know what? - it’s a long story so let me just give you a quick rundown.

(under the cut because my quick rundown ended up slightly longer than “quick” - this is a massive vent with trigger warnings for dog attack, injured children, animal bites, police, and hospitals.  Yeah, it’s been a goddamn HELL of a day)

Neighbors moved into the house next door maybe a year ago (it’s the house that inspired Hammer Of The Gods, just as an interesting side point) and the mom has always been one of those chirpy sunshiny waving-over-the-back-fence “call me anytime, I’ll bake cookies!” good neighbor types that make you feel a little bit unsettled, like, nobody can be that cheery and be for real, you know what I mean?  But we’ve never seen any dark side peeking out so we’ve always just accepted it at face value and waved back and gone about our business, happy in the belief that we got a real good neighbor this time.

So - neighbor lady has this rotten little shit of a dog that we have hated since day one.  We’re not dog haters, this is just a hellspawn beast that even Steve Irwin would want to euthanize.  It barks constantly (sometimes all night), and it gets out of their yard and comes into ours to either 1) take a shit in Little’s sandpit, or 2) snarl and chase Little while he screams and cries.  The kid is scared to go in his own back yard to play because he’s afraid of this shit dog even seeing him.

Neighbor knows this, has seen it happen, and always blows it off with a chirpy “Oh he just likes to roughhouse and play rough, you’ll be fine, he won’t hurt you!”

Yeah, no.  You don’t let your animal come into MY yard and terrorize MY children.  I have chased that beast off with rocks, the water hose, my own shoe more than once, and I stg if it hadn’t run off before I got back with the baseball bat there was one time when I likely would have killed the damn thing.  My child is terrified of it and it goes out of its way to come onto our property to snarl at him and chase him.  I’m not cool with that.  But we haven’t complained because we’re scared to death of making enemies of this neighbor.  Trust me, after the last people who lived in that house, we’re very anxious to stay friends with the ones in there now.  So we did the good neighbor thing and kept the peace by keeping our mouths shut.

Well.  Fast forward to tonight, after a year of putting up with that yappy vicious asshole.  Little is out in the front yard, playing right in front of the front door of our house.  He’s nowhere near their house or the fenceline to their yard, you can’t even see their front door from where he is.  Two steps and he would be inside our house, that’s where he’s at.  Absolutely ten THOUSAND percent nowhere near them or their house or their dog.  Neighbor opens her front door to leave and this shithead comes tearing out of their house on a straight beeline for Little.  It has to go all the way to the end of their front yard and around the end of the fence to even get into our yard, which means it had full intention of coming over here from the minute it got out of their house.  And it’s snarling and barking the whole way, which scares the everloving shit out of Little, because he’s been chased by this hellhound countless times and he knows what’s coming.  He immediately starts screaming and loses his damn mind to the point where he can’t think straight enough to turn around and run into the house, and he starts running in circles because, yeah, he’s a complete idiot when he’s scared, like most 8 year olds when being attacked by vicious animals.  And this stupid dog is right behind him, snarling and barking like a rabid goddamn demon, and Little is screaming that horrified deep-chest kind of scream that stops mothers’ hearts.

I hear it all the way at the far end of the house, over the loud music I have playing.  I’d already heard the dog but had assumed it was just barking through the fence like it always does.  But that scream - god, I hate that scream.  That scream is like a nightmare, you don’t want to hear it while you’re awake, ever.

So I run through the house and tear out onto the porch to see this dog straight up attacking my child.  My child is trying to run but the dog has hold of the back of the calf of his left leg, and Little is practically dragging the thing and screaming his lungs out, but it won’t let him go.  I slam the screen door open and scream BABY GET IN THE HOUSE!!!!! and bam, his brain kicks back in and he heads for me.  I grab him and he’s trembling so hard I thought he was having a seizure.

Now comes the kicker.  The neighbor lady is standing at the end of the fence, watching all this happen.  She yells for the dog to come to her, but that’s all she does.

Now for an even bigger kicker.  The teenage daughter is actually standing less than two feet away from Little and the dog when I get there, meaning she followed the dog into the yard but stood there and didn’t stop it when it started attacking him.  She was simply standing there.  I mean, I can sort of understand where she’s coming from on this, because she’s afraid of the damn dog herself.  But if I were watching my dog attack a small child, you better bet your ass and everything attached to it that I would be putting myself between that dog and that child - or at the very least kicking the dog or trying to grab it by the collar, anything to protect the child.  At least make a fucking effort.

Nope.  She stood there.  In my yard.  Watching her dog attempt to maul my child.  While the mother watched as well, from the safety of the end of the fenceline, while making one feeble attempt to yell for the dog to come.

Fuck them both.

So at this point I’ve grabbed Little and slammed the screen shut to keep the dog away, and the girl says “I’m so sorry!” and then just stands there looking at me like she’s expecting me to say it’s okay.  I’m inspecting my still-screaming child and I find that his leg is bleeding and has fucking HOLES IN IT.  I look through the screen at the teenager and say “IT BIT HIM!!!”

She just stands there.  She obviously doesn’t know what to do, she keeps looking over at her mother.  The mother never steps foot into the yard.  Not a damn step.

Again, fuck her.  I can forgive the teenager...but not the adult.

So my husband finally comes in from the back - up to this point he’s assumed the kids were just playing noisy and the neighbor’s dog was being a yappy little bitch from its own back yard like usual, but when I got Little into the house he finally realized those screams were serious and came running.  I told him the dog bit Little in our yard, and he runs outside but the dog and both women are gone.  He comes back in, confused about what’s happening, and I look him straight in the eye and say “That dog bit our kid, you do something.”

To his credit he snaps to action and runs out, heading straight over to the neighbors’ house to ask what the hell just happened.  She’s trying to get in her car and leave in a hurry, so he stops her and she starts laughing and saying how the dog loves to “roughhouse” and she wished Little wasn’t scared of him so they could play.  And husband, still not knowing what’s going on, has no choice but to let the woman get in her car and leave, but he asks her if the dog is current on its rabies shots and she says something to the effect of “I think so, we lost his tag” (husband was confused by the whole situation, bless him he’s no good at all in a crisis...that’s why he has me) and then she says she has to go and quickly gets the fuck out of Dodge.

When husband comes back in I tell him what I saw.  Little recovers his wits enough to start talking and tells us everything.  I clean the wound and hold him while we try to figure out what to do.  ER?  God, we were just in there a month ago when my eyeball exploded, we just got the bill for it a few days ago and have no idea how we’re going to pay it.  We’re not even sure they’ll see us again with that visit still on the books unless we pay them something on arrival.  But we’re going anyway, because this is our kid and we know we at the very least need to get this situation documented by someone official and make sure the bite doesn’t need care beyond what I can provide...but I need to know what to tell the ER crew when they ask if the dog has had its shots.  I start texting the neighbor, I send her pictures of the bite so she knows this is serious and she needs to work with me, I ask for information on the dog’s vaccine status, and she...straight up ignores me.  I text her again, making it clear that I need her to answer me ASAP because we’re likely going to the hospital and if I can’t tell them what they need to know, they’re going to be calling her.

A half hour goes by, and in the meantime I’m calling TeleHealth and googling shit as fast as I can, waiting for this woman to reply so we know what to do next, and when she finally responds she -

REFUSES TO GIVE ME ANY INFORMATION.

Yeah.

Two tries later - all I want is to know if the dog has had its shots, I even tell her she can just text me a picture of the dog’s collar tags or let me take a picture of its vaccine papers - and she comes back with “I don’t have any papers and his collar broke so the tags were lost.”

I realize at this point that there’s a reason why she won’t give me an answer and keeps evading.  I text her again and say “Ticia I need you to tell me right now HAS THAT DOG HAD ITS SHOTS”

She waits a while, then replies with “My friend does the vaccines for me.”  So I ask for the “friends” name and phone number so the hospital can call and get the information they need from them.  She makes me wait a long time again, after which she finally comes back with “Tell the doctor to call me and I’ll tell him what he needs to know.”

Okay, this is pure bullshit now.  One more try.  “IS THAT DOG VACCINATED OR NOT, YES OR NO?”

She finally replies one last time, with just a single name, “Hubbs”.

I google it - it’s a vet clinic, Hubbs is the doctor.  Wait, I thought she said her “friend” does it and there are no papers...?  So I call the vet clinic, but by this time it’s after hours and they’re closed and my only option is to leave a message and beg them to call me first thing in the morning.  Now I know why she waited so long in between replies...she was watching the clock.  I give husband a quick rundown of what’s been happening and he says “That’s it, I’m calling her.”

He calls her.  She doesn’t answer.

By this time I’m starting to cry and we’re both getting frantic.  I get the kiddo calmed down enough to leave the room and I call my mother - yeah, I know, I’m supposed to be on Active Shun status with her, but this is an emergency and she has experience in the legal field (I do too, but her know-how is far more recent than mine) and there’s no way in hell she would refuse to help her grandbaby.  She’s also the only level head I can think of at the moment.  So I suck it up and make the call.

In spite of everything, she comes through for me.  Lists off everything I need to be doing as far as documenting, getting him to the ER, filing a police report afterward if the neighbor decides to pull a vanishing act (the woman is out of town VERY frequently, sometimes we only see her once or twice a week so we know this is likely).  While I’m on the phone with her, my husband is on the phone with his friend, who is a veterinarian in another state.  Equine vet, but hey, they all have the same basic knowledge under their specialties.  Vet friend says get him to the ER tonight, as in right now, and starts a massive spiel on the danger of waiting since rabies is a possible factor in this equation.  Full panic is setting in now and I’m crying fullblown and vet friend is telling us to take him in NOW, we’re operating on a tight timeframe and rabies is something you don’t fuck around with and we do not want to cut it even remotely close.

So.  We grab our masks and get gone.  On the way to the ER I call the neighbor in one last ditch attempt to get something remotely useful information-wise from her.  She answers on what had to be the fifteenth ring, I was just about to hang up when there’s finally a terse “Hello.”  And while I’m breathlessly telling her we’re in the car on our way to the emergency room and I need to know if her damn dog has had its damn shots or my sweet little 8 year old boy is going to have to start a horrifically painful series of shots for something that likely isn’t even going to happen to him, she has the unmitigated BALLS to calmly and coldly say to me, “If I had that information I would have given it to you.  I can’t do anything until tomorrow.”

Again...say it with me.  FUCK. HER.  She doesn’t even ask if he’s okay.  Her attitude and tone make it clear that she’s considering this whole thing a waste of her time and she’s annoyed that I keep contacting her about it.

I hang up.  Not gonna let that bitch hear me cry.

We get to the ER, I run inside with Little, husband and Big have to stay in the car because Covid regulations.  We get temperature-checked at the door and then do the front desk check-in thing; it’s a quiet night and a small town thank god so we get taken to a room immediately, ER nurse asks what’s happened and I tell her.

She is PISSED.  Informs me that they’re going to be calling the police and that I won’t have to do anything, the Sheriff’s Department will handle it all.  She takes all Little’s stats, checks him over, then leaves to make the call.

Doctor comes in, super nice man, Dr Khan.  He’s not happy about the situation either, tells us they’ll get the police involved on our behalf, verifies that the bite will be okay with some careful tending and a ten day round of antibiotics.  He says since it’s highly unlikely a domestic pet is carrying rabies and this dog has a history of just being a bad tempered bitch, he’s not going to start Little on the horrific preventative treatment for the virus because it’ll likely be unnecessary - but that damn mutt IS going into quarantine and the CDC is being notified of the situation.

Husband texts me from the parking lot: COPS JUST PULLED UP.  About three minutes later Deputy Bishop walks in and he’s ready to rumble because he’s already mad about the call being for a dog attack, and when he sees the victim - all 48 lbs of tiny skinny little blue-eyed blonde haired angelfaced Little - he’s furious.  Takes all the information, asks a lot of questions, spends a lot of time with us, listens to Little, and then as he’s closing his notebook he tells me that he’s headed to neighbor’s house to inform her she’s in some shit now and she should have just cooperated with me from the start (yep I told him how she gave me the runaround).  But since she didn’t extend even the slightest bit of human decency, her dog is being put on the “problem animal” watch list and I’m to call him immediately if she gives me any trouble at all, ever, about any of this.

She not only has to quarantine the dog for ten days, she has to report to the CDC.  If she doesn’t comply, the dog will be taken by the authorities.  She’s also in trouble for not maintaining proper records on the dog’s vaccinations (which I think is because the dog ISN’T vaccinated - why would she have given me such a yank job about it if it was?  I straight up asked her FOUR TIMES “is the dog vaccinated” and she refused to give me a simple yes or no).

So it’s finally finished and we’re released from the hospital, and as we’re turning at the end of our street headed home we pass Deputy Bishop leaving neighbor’s house.  Neighbor is out in her front yard, dragging her trash cans to the corner in the dark as we go into our house.

She never looks at us, never asks how Little is doing.  Nothing.  Pretends we aren’t even there.  Her dog just fucking MAULED my kid, we’re literally just now home from the hospital because of it, we’re going to have an astronomical hospital bill, she could likely get SUED THE FUCK INTO OBLIVION AND BACK, she’s standing less than 20 feet away from us as we’re carrying the injured baby into the house...but she doesn’t even ask if the kid is okay.

This is where the learned lesson comes in.  Remember that fakey-sunshiny-chirpy-friendly “I’m a great neighbor, you’re so lucky to have me!” shit I mentioned at the beginning?  Yeah, we thought this lady was a super great person, we had nothing to make us think otherwise.  Now we do.  From the very first contact after the incident she attempted to make it our fault - said to me in one of the first texts that if we had a problem with her dog’s behavior we should have said so from the start (I had told her that the dog chased Little and snarled at him a lot, that this wasn’t the first time, and that she needed to make sure it was the last time).  She immediately got uppity with me and turned it into our mistake for not saying something every time the dog acted up.  Oh, okay, forgive us for trying to be good neighbors who don’t complain about everything.  That’s where we went wrong here!  Yeah it’s all our fault, sorry!  You’re completely within your rights to keep a dangerous animal that hates children next door to a family with children and not do anything to keep it under control.  Our bad, sorry to waste your time.

For the nth time...fuck her.  People show their true colors when they feel threatened, and I feel like she knew she likely has a lawsuit coming...and if she felt threatened by the possibility of a lawsuit, that means she knows she’s guilty and deserves one.

So anyway...Little is going to be fine, physically.  But he’s made it clear that he’s never going outside again.  (Say it with me, class...FUCK HER).  The shitty little dog has to be locked up for ten days, yay.  Personally I wish they’d taken it away, but at least there’s 10 days where Little can go out in his own damn yard without fearing for his life - if I can convince him it’s safe and talk him into it.  (Say it again...)

Tomorrow I talk to neighbor’s vet and get the truth, finally, about the damn thing’s shots (or lack thereof), and then I have to call our homeowner’s insurance and file a claim through them against neighbor’s insurance to try to get our hospital bill paid by her.  Which, you know, probably wouldn’t even have been necessary if the woman had cooperated with me from the start.  And then I get to start the long process of getting Little through his trauma and fear of ever going outside to play again.  And in 3-5 days I get the joy of going down to the police department to pick up a copy of the report.

And, of course, we get to deal with the cold shoulder from a suddenly not-such-a-nice-person uncaring next door neighbor who obviously thinks we’re assholes because the hospital called the police and reported her while our son was bleeding in the emergency room with holes in his leg the size of her precious pet’s teeth.

I won’t ever fall for that fakey-nice act again, from anyone.  My gut never truly believed she was as good as she pretended to be, and now I know my gut was right.  She’s a mother...yet she couldn’t even muster up that fake sunshine long enough to find out if a child was going to be alright.  A child whose injury and trauma were due to her negligence.  To me that makes the deception a thousand times worse.  She’s a goddamned mother and she flat doesn’t give a shit.  She didn’t even pretend to.

Words can’t even go where my feels are at the moment.  

[eighth--wonder]

alright fuck it

here's a lil story i'm writing. i have no idea where it's heading but i want to share it.

first | next

~~

Stranger

~~

“Do you have a minute?” asks the stranger that has taken a seat next to me. I just wanted to read a book in the park and NOT talk to people. It’s the reason I’m out here, to not talk to people. Well, that, and the fact that my therapist keeps yelling at me to go outside.

“Y-yes?” I said back to him, shutting my book. There it goes, that darn stutter.

“I’ve had a heck of a day. I got laid off from the only thing keeping me from living in my parents' basement, my phone shattered after this stupid kid knocked into me on his bike, I lost this really important family heirloom after my house was robbed by my step-mom, and, I have no friends to vent to, which why I’m talking to you, a stranger. No offense.”

I smiled. “None t-taken. That sounds li-like a pretty crappy d-day to m-me.” 

He looked confused. “You…”

“I-i-i-it’s my s-stutter.” 

“Oh. I’m Cody by the way.” He said, delivering a warm smile along with a hand to shake.

I shook his hand. “I’m Wil-Wilson. N-nice to me-meet you.”

Here is usually where the people who thought I could be a potential friend go away, but Cody was different. He stayed, asking me what book I was reading, talked about how the economy was failing, new shows on Netflix. Ya know, the usual. 

Eventually, he decided that I was good friend material, and we exchanged numbers.

I walked home after Cody left, considering my social interaction bar had been used up for the day talking to him. Cody, the only person who judged me by how I acted instead of my stutter. He was nice, his appearance wasn’t anything out of the usual indicating he wasn’t a serial killer, which was always a perk. He also didn’t show any signs of isolation which is why I was surprised when he told me he didn't have any friends, but everybody copes in their own way, I guess. His tone of voice suggested that he goes to therapy, he sounded very on edge, possibly paranoia, but he did say he had a bad day.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. My CSI training tended to kick in from time to time. I had gotten “let go” from my CSI position at NJPD because of head trauma, also known as, “We don’t want a kid with a broken dream and a stutter solving murders.” 

I opened the door to my apartment and stepped inside. Just as I had expected, nothing had happened. My living room was a mess, decorative throw pillows all pilled and smushed. The coffee table had empty coffee mugs littered around its surface leaving white rings on the table. I guess I should clean them up. 

After cleaning up the coffee mugs and the white heat rings, I grabbed a cup of water, sat down in front of the TV, and flipped to the news.

As usual, the news delivered nothing but depressing news about how the president’s attempt to do something-or-other was succeeding. Or failing. I never paid attention to the news. 

I turned the TV off and decided to go do something productive with my time and then did nothing because who has time for productivity and stared at the ceiling.

Eventually, my body started telling me I needed to sleep and listening to it, I changed into my sleepwear and went to bed.

I woke up to birds chirping and the sun shining through my bedroom window, which would lead you to think I would have a wonderful day, meet someone new, maybe go shopping for supplies to make a delicious meal, but no. My plan for the day was to update my laptop, watch some TV, then maybe mow the lawn. 

While I was staring at the black screen of my updating laptop, my phone vibrated signaling a text message had come through. Getting text messages was not a usual occurrence for me. I only ever got messages from my data plan telling me I ran out of data. I looked down at my phone and to my surprise, it was Cody asking if I wanted to hang out today. After proofreading my response and then proofreading it again, I sent it to him. 

Waiting for his response, I sat on my bed chewing my nails. 

What if he isn’t really your friend, he’s just pretending to be? 

      What if it’s all a joke and he hates you?

No, stop that. 

Why would anybody want to be friends with you? 

You can’t even speak right. 

Stop. 

Nobody even likes you.

That’s it. 

I got up and got changed, avoiding looking in any mirrors. My outfit wasn’t anything extraordinary, a pair of jeans with an old band t-shirt and leather jacket matched with Converse. Without waiting for a meeting place from Cody, I headed out the door, slinging my beige satchel over my shoulder. In my satchel was my phone, my wallet, a pocket knife and a lighter.  

I arrived at the park searching for Cody: vitiligo, blonde hair, freckles, blue eyes, glasses, a pretty good sense of style. Judging by what he wore yesterday which was a pair of work pants,  a long-sleeved light pink dress shirt, and a navy blue tie, he would wear something casual like jeans and a sweatshirt. What he wore yesterday was obviously his work clothes but as he said, he had gotten laid off from his job so he wouldn’t be wearing work clothes. 

I had actually done research on jobs for him based on the personality gathered from him. I know, I know. I’m weird because somehow I know his entire personality after just meeting him for the first time. Yeah well, I don’t care. The job turnouts were nice, things along the lines of psychiatrists, therapists. Ya know, socially demanding jobs. Something I could never do. 

 Eventually, I found Cody at a coffee shop talking to the lady at the counter about how she should go see a therapist to cope with the loss of her husband. What a gentleman. 

He turned around to find a seat in the crowded coffee shop and noticed me standing in the middle of the shop, staring at him like a loser.

“Wilson, you found me!” He said, walking up to me as if he had known me longer than a quick chat on a bench. 

“I did,” I said, nervous that other people would see. “Now le-let’s go,” I said, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the door.

“Don’t you want anything?” He said, struggling not to spill his coffee. 

“No, I’ll p-pick up a Mo-Monster on the w-way to the ma-mall,” I said. 

Realizing I was basically holding Cody’s hand, I let go and turned to face him. 

“S-sorry,” I said, turning a slight shade of pink.

Cody situated himself. “About what?” 

“Nevermi-mind,” I shook my head as if doing that would remove the awkwardness from the situation. 

Cody kind of smiled. “Okay. So, we’re we headed?” 

“I was th-thinking the mall, m-maybe hit up H-Hot Topic,” I said as I started to walk down the trail. 

The trail at the park was an absolute must if you’re a tourist. In the fall, the trail became covered in amber-gold leaves. Animals of all sorts rustled the leaves, burrowing to make their homes. Grumpy park keepers raking leaves into piles only to have children jump in them and ruin them. God, I love it. 

“Sure. Doesn’t the mall have a food court? We could stop there and get something to eat.”

I turned to look at him. “Th-that would be g-great.” 

We walked in silence to the mall. I could never quite figure out Cody’s shopping preference. He looked like he shopped at Kohls or Sears. Some relatively nice places. Maybe Boscovs. I, on the other hand, shop at places like Hot Topic and Journeys. 

We arrived at the mall and made a direct line to a Hot Topic. I could tell Cody had never entered a Hot Topic in his life, considering the fact he scrunched up when he saw the cashier. 

I walked up beside him and nudged him. “This your fi-first time?” 

He took a sip of his coffee. “In a Hot Topic, yes.”

I turned back to the t-shirts. “I can te-tell.”

We browsed the store, Cody striking some conversation with other shop goers. How is he so social? He even got the kids in Hot Topic to talk to him. 

“Wilson, c’mere!” Cody yelled from the other side of the store. The entire store, which consisted of like, 3 people, turned to look at me. 

I chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, h-h-hi.” I gave a tiny socially awkward wave which was responded with an understanding nod from some kid in a Panic! At the Disco shirt. 

I scurried over to the other side of the store. “Wha-what do you wa-want!” I hissed at him. 

Cody gestured over to the shirt he had in his right hand. “Don’t you like this band? I saw them on your lockscreen.” 

He was holding a Twenty One Pilots shirt that had the words: “I belive in Josh Dun” etched around the alien-like symbol that represented Josh Dun. The shirt wasn’t really my style, but Cody looked so proud of himself for finding a shirt that I could possibly like, that I couldn’t turn it down. I grabbed the sirt from his hands and slung it over my shoulder. I looked for other t-shirts, failed, and ended up in the pin section. A sign underneath the bucket read, “Buy 2 get 1 free”. I was always a sucker for deals. 

“Watcha doing?” A voice was accompanied by a brush on my shoulder. I suspected that it was Cody’s arm, because his hand brushed against mine. As if that same hand had taken a paintbrush, my face was painted a light red. Well, more of a light pink. For some reason, Cody’s touch made my chest feel all weird, my stomach flutter, and my face heat up. Of course I knew what this feeling was, I’m not stupid. 

“Uh, I’m l-looking for pi-pins. They’re b-buy two get one fr-free.” I said. 

Cody was immediately intrigued. He rummaged through the pins, discarding ones he didn’t like. I already held two pins in my hand, a Fall Out Boy one and a subtle LGBTQ+ Pride pin. 

Now, Cody wasn’t the type of person I would have thought to have also picked out an LGBTQ+ Pride pin as well, but here we are, Cody with an extremely flamboyant Pride pin in the palm of his hand. 

My face tuned a medium shade of red. Holy crap, Cody’s gay. I mean, it didn’t bother me, obviously, but you never would have guessed it. 

Somehow, I completed the transaction between the cashier and I, and me and Cody made a beeline for the Five Guys. Five Guys was a restaurant I had come to many times when I was a kid. I ordered what I usually got, a Veggie Sandwich. Cody ordered a Cheeseburger with Small Fries. An order I can respect. We searched for a place to sit before choosing a seat underneath the trees they put in the mall. It never occured to me why they put trees in the mall until now. 

Seeing Cody smile at me from underneath the trees, a stray ray of sunlight shone through his glasses and making its way to his blue eyes, his smile making me feel warm inside. God, what I would do to take a picture of him right now. 

“H-hey, can I t-take a p-p-picture of y-you, Cody?” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. 

“Sure. Where do you want me to look?” He said. I was honestly surprised by his reaction. He didn’t think I was weird or refuse. 

I adjusted my phone camera to the light settings. “J-just look directly a-at the c-cam-camera and smi-smile.” 

He did as I said, smiling directly at the camera. The shot was super cliche, but he looked great. 

I took the picture, ignoring weird looks from other customers, and sent it to Cody. The picture came out nice. 

“Put a black and white filter on it.” Cody’s voice sounded from my shoulder. His chin rested right where my shoulder met my neck.

I put the black and white filter on it. The ray of sunlight that passed diagnally on his face was turned to a light gray. 

“But it l-look-looks better with col-colour.” I said, changing it back.

Cody stared at it for a few moments, his face looked rather studious, as if he wanted to remember every aspect of the photo. 

“Yeah, your right. Keep it coloured.” 

I smiled. “I’m al-always ri-right.”

Something about how quickly our friendship had formed made an impact on me. We met on a bench yesterday and now I’m sending him a picture I took of him in a mall plainly because I wanted to. Something wasn’t right; friendships don’t move this quickly. People weren’t just nice. As depressing as it sounds, it’s true. People aren’t nice with no reason. We’d love them to be, but they just aren’t. 

Cody threw away the remains of his lunch and sat back down in front of me. 

“So, want do you want to do now?” He said.

I shrugged. “I do-don’t know. May-maybe we c-could go to-”

Cody gasped. “What about a play! There’s a theatre down the street, and the admission’s free!”

I smiled. I friggin’ love plays. Especially musicals. Something about how people can change their person to a completely different personality always made me happy. 

“I lo-love the sound of th-that.” I said, standing up and throwing the remains of my veggie sandwich in the garbage can. 

We left the mall in a hurry, rushing to hail a cab to the nearest theatre. We both sat in the back of the cab as the driver drove us to our location.

“So, do y-you know wha-what play it i-i-is?” I asked.

Cody shook his head no. “Honestly, I don’t really care what play it is. I just love the acting behind it.” He said.

“Me t-too. I just lo-love how the pe-pe-people on st-stage can tra-transform into wha-whatever chara-character they ne-need to-” I was cut off by the cab driver.

“Ay kid, could ya knock it off with that stutter? It’s really annoyin’ and it’s gettin’ on my nerves.” He said. He had a heavy jersey accent, a contrast to our current location of New York. 

“Yes s-sir.” I said, folding my hands in my lap and drawing my eyes to my feet.

Cody kept looking between me and the cab driver. “What? No.” He said, knocking on the glass that divided the passengers and the driver. 

“Sir, can you pull over?” He said. His tone sounded like a mother who was about to scold her child. 

The cab driver groaned and pulled over. 

“What?” He said, twisting his body so he could see through the little window.

“My friend can’t help his stutter, okay? And for you to ask him to ‘knock it off’ was extremely impolite.” Cody said. 

‘Friend’. I held back my smile.

The cab driver snorted. “I don’t care if he can help it or not, it’s annoying and it distracts me from driving.”

Cody laughed in disbelief. “Oh, I see. Well, in that case, can you stop talking in that obnoxious jersey accent of yours? It distracts me from enjoying the view. And, maybe stop smelling like rotten fries because it makes it hard to focus. And I would heavily enjoy it if you threw out that black ice smelly tree, because all it does is combine with the scent of feces back here and makes it smell worse.” He smiled sweetly. “Thanks so much, mmm-bye.”

He opened the cab door and walked over to the sidewalk to open mine. I got out, throwing a dirty look at the cab driver. We left without paying. 

“Hey, th-thanks for standing u-u-up for me b-back there. It rea-really meant a lo-lot.” I said.

Cody smiled. “No problem! It just pisses me off when people are mean to others.” 

We walked to the theatre. Cody was right, the admission was free and it was one of my favourite plays. Romeo and Juliet. 

Cody and I walked up to the admission box, standing rather close to each other.

“One ticket for me and one for my friend.” He said.

There it was. That word Friend. Now that I think of if, I haven’t really had a friend before. Yeah, I know. You’re probably thinking ‘Wilson, I bet you had at least one friend.’ Nope. None of the kids in elementary school talked to me enough for me to develop a friendship with them, and middle school was, well, middle school, and after my accident in high school, no one spoke to me straight up. I’m honestly surprised I have the social skills I have. 

We walked down the aisle and found our seats. We were seated in the 3rd row of the middle section. So right near the front. 

“Have you ever seen Romeo and Juliet?” Cody asked.

I raised my eyebrows. “Have I ev-ever seen R-Romeo and Juli-Juliet?”

Cody smiled. “I take it you have. Well good, because I’ve never seen it.”

“Really?” I said. How?????

Cody shook his head. “Nope. Never seen it.”

I sighed. “Do you at le-least know th-the p-plot?”

“More or less. I know theres a thing with a balcony?”

“Yes.”

“And they,” He looked side to side, checking for people. “Both die?”

I smiled and nodded. “Y-Yes! So you kno-know the basic-ics. G-Good.”

We turned our attention to the stage as the lights dimmed. 

yea that's it so far. ask me if you wanna be tagged!

[addictofsupernatural]

Spidey Senses (pt. 1)

Peter Parker x reader

Summary: You have a big secret about your life, and so might your crush.

Word Count: 2253

Chapter 2

You woke up, looking around at the apartment to yourself, and got ready for school. You made yourself some scrambled eggs; they were quick enough to make. You ate and cleaned up, not that anyone was expecting you to. You went to the bathroom, looking at yourself one last time. You frowned, but smoothened out your shirt.

Peter liked this shirt. He once told you that at lunch, when you brought him cookies made cookies for him and Ned. It was a Bowsette shirt, and this time instead of wearing it lose you tucked it in. Maybe he'd like that? Not that it was doing much for your body. You did read somewhere that having confident vibes was attractive, so maybe you just needed to act confident, and he'd notice that you wore the shirt he likes? It was stupid, but you were doing it anyways.

You locked up your apartment and walked to Peter's nicer apartment complex, where you sat down on the untagged steps outside. A few minutes later Peter came rushing out with a piece of toast in his mouth. You turned and smiled, perking up.

"Morning Peter." You chirped. No matter how bad you could feel sometimes, you couldn't help but have the best of attitudes around Peter.

"Morning." He said, voice muffled. He took a bite and ripped off a piece of toast, silently giving it to you. You took it and ate with him. "So I just got a text from Ned, and we have to pair up in biology for a project on the genetics of different forms of life."

He sounded pepped up, and so were you. You loved doing projects. It was a stress reliever from working at nights, and you got to spend some time after school with Peter. To you, projects were amazing. "So, who're you gonna pick for your partner?" You teased.

"Of course only the one person I know who can keep up with me." He nudged you, and you giggled. "I wish Liz was in that class. She's really smart."

Then there was that. Peter's crush on Liz. Though it made you feel terrible about yourself, you couldn't help but constantly compare yourself to Liz. She was so much prettier than you, smarter, actually popular. Not that you really cared about popularity, but it seemed like everyone adored her, Peter included. You didn't dislike her, you just wished you could be more like her. But if she's what makes Peter happy, then you would try to be the most supportive friend you could be.

"I bet you do." You did your best to smile. "Are we still on for joining the Mathletes?"

"I don't know. What if I get too nervous around Liz and start messing everything up? Then I'll look like an idiot."

"First of all, never call yourself an idiot. You're a genius, own it. Second, me and Ned are gonna join with you. We'll have your back Peter. We'll all have some fun, and you'll get to spend more time with her. We'll be in the back for support if you need us."

He nodded and put an arm around you, squeezing your shoulders as he side hugged you. "Thanks y/n. I can always count on you and Ned to be really awesome friends."

Though it took a blow to your feelings and self esteem, all you responded with was "Of course." as you walked into school and met up with Ned.

Sometimes, keeping things to yourself was just the better option. There were two things you kept from Peter. One, you were completely and undoubtedly in love with him. Only Ned knew about this, since he's just as close to you as Peter is. Two, the day you went to the Stark museum field trip and got bit by that spider changed your life forever.

As the day went on, so did your anxiousness. It was good this time; you didn't have work today at Delmar's Deli-Grocery, meaning it was time to suit up. Queens always needed help, and you were happy to do it. So was this other guy with similar abilities, but you never met him, so you didn't worry about it.

Mathletes went pretty much as expected. Peter was adorably awkward around Liz, but a genius none the less. You actually had some fun with Ned, goofing off as well as being able to get some work done. Peter would come back to you two every now and then to give updates. "You okay?" Ned quietly asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." You rested your chin on your hand and leaned over. "What about you? Like anybody right now?"

He gave you a goofy smile. "Nobody specific, but I'm hoping being in the Mathletes will show girls how smart I am."

You gave him a toothy grin in return. "I'm sure they will. Girls who are worth your time are suckers for nerds." Ned nodded his head eagerly in response.

Peter caught a glimpse of your conversation with Ned about girls liking nerds, and it sounded like a really tempting topic to over and listen about, but he had to focus on Liz. Giving her his main attention will show her that this is just as important to him as it is to her.

When Mathletes was over, Peter went over to you and an excited Ned, trying to ignore that nagging left out feeling he was having. "What'd I miss?"

"Y/n's gonna paint the Millennium Falcon and Death Star on my walls!" Ned said excitedly.

"Woah, really?"

You shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. I like painting, and it's not like my landlord would let me do it on my own walls. His parents are gonna take me to buy the paints and pay me for doing it too, so it's really just me getting all the benefits."

"It's gonna happen next week, so we should have a marathon over the weekend." Ned proposed.

"I love that idea!" Peter said, getting pumped up and excited in a very cute way he does. "We should do it at your house!" He said to you.

"I'm so down!" You excitedly said. "But right now I have homework to do, so let's walk home."

Ned said his goodbyes as he got picked up. You and Peter walked home together talking about Star Wars and how he would love it if you painted for him sometime. You promised him you would and said your goodbyes, watching him walk up his apartment complex steps and disappearing. You then quickly ran home to put on your super suit and head out.

Meanwhile, Peter came home to see Mr. Tony Stark in his very own living room. "Aunt May, I'm ho–"

The two heads turned to see the suddenly out of breath teen. "Oh, hey! Mr. Stark was just telling me how you got accepted." Aunt May smiled.

"W...wha–how–um, hi." He breathed out.

Tony smiled effortlessly as he got up. "I was just talking to your Aunt May over here about your acceptance for your application into the Stark internship." He winked. "Can we talk privately in your room?"

"Ye...uh, sure. Course." They both went into his room and Tony closed the door, looking around the room.

"So your aunt seems nice." Tony said nonchalantly. "Really doesn't look like an aunt."

"Um, why are you here Mr. Stark? I never filled out an–"

"She's cute." He picked up a framed picture of you and Peter, you hugging him while you both smiled. Tony instantly recognized you as the other person he was going to recruit.

"Y–uh, I guess." The question was very flustering for Peter.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"Woah! No, we're just friends. There's actually this other girl–"

Tony set the picture down and went on to his phone. "Okay, I'm bored with this story now." He then pulled up a video of a disguised man stop a car from crashing into a bus. "This you?"

"No! I don't know who that is."

"Yeah?" He looked up and got the broom that was against the wall, pushing one of the air vents out of the way and watching Peter's suit fall while tied to a rope. "Tell anybody about your powers?"

"No! Not even Aunt May, I promise. It's been a secret since I got them."

Tony nodded. "I'll cut to the point. I need you to come with me to Berlin. There's something you can help me with. Think of it as a mission. Are you up for it?" Peter only nodded his head. "Good, we got one more stop to make."

You got home to your apartment after stopping a robbery at a fast food restaurant. You took a shower and finished your homework fairly quickly. After backing some double brownie cookies for the weekend, you started pencil drawing to pass the time. That's when you heard a knock at the door. Your hair was still a bit damp as you curiously got up and answered the door. In front of your very eyes was the infamous Tony Stark.

"Woah." Was the first thing to drop out of your mouth. You wanted to slap yourself. You quietly said, "Hello."

You stuck out your hand for a hand shake, trying to make it as firm as you could while feeling nervous around the celebrity. As he shook it, you swallowed your nervousness down and remembered that everyone has flaws and he's just a regular person.

"Hi, can I come in?" You forced a smile and nodded, stepping aside as he came in and walked around your house. In all honesty, it was kind of making you uncomfortable how much observing he was doing. He noticed the same picture Peter had was hanged up on your wall. "Is this your boyfriend?"

You nervously laughed at the thought of that fantasy. "I wish." You blurted out. He raised his eyebrows and looked at you, feeling that this was going to be fun to tease about over this mission. "But I've been friend zoned, so yeah." You quickly said. "Anyways, would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Got any sweets or something? I am kind of hungry." He didn't look at you and kept wandering around your apartment. You silently nodded and took out the container of cookies you just put in the cupboard. You made those for the Star Wars binge, but if you had to sacrifice some for Tony Stark, so be it. You opened it from the kitchen counter, and he took one while inspecting your kitchen. "Oh wow. These are good. Make them yourself?"

"Yeah actually. Thanks." He opened your finance drawer with your bills, newspaper coupons and food stamps. You quickly closed it. "Um, please don't look at that!"

He looked you in the eye for a second before nodding and looking at another picture of Peter and you, this time with you trying to cover your face from the selfie. "So, I've read your personal file."

He was so straight forward that you didn't know how to react. "Oh. Are you even allowed to do that?"

"I'm allowed to bend the rules a bit sometimes." You huffed in response. Rich people. "Emancipated at 15. That's a lot."

"Yeah, I guess. I'd like to think I've adjusted well." You put on a smile again.

He leaned against the kitchen counter. "You miss your mom?"

"Um, she needed to learn how to take care of herself before she could take care of anybody else. I'm okay with that." You rocked on your heals.

"That's very mature of you, but you didn't answer my question."

You really didn't know why you felt so open with him. Maybe it was all that internet stalking. Damn. But you weren't about to spill out your life to this man and scare him off. No matter how well you felt like you kind of knew him. "Mm, it's complicated."

"And what about your dad?"

You truthfully never really think about him. "What about him?"

"You don't want to meet him? Know anything about him?"

You let out a laugh. "The only thing I want to know about him is his address, so I could file for some child support."

Tony smirked, deciding that he liked you. "Can you even file for yourself."

You sighed. "Probably not. Sometimes the government can suck."

He nodded his head, his eyes averting to your room. Shit. "What're those?"

"Oh, um, you don't need to see that!" He walked a lot faster than you and went into your room. You silently cursed your small legs. "Wow. These are a lot of drawings. And there's a lot of Thor. Do we have a little crush on a certain God?"

"Maybe!" You blurted out, much to Tony's amusement.

There was a small desk over a bulletin board full of your drawings. You got the desk when you saw pieces of wood being thrown out of a Home Depot because of chips and scratches, and you volunteered to take it off their hands. You built it yourself, wobbly and uneven, and painted some of it with the paints Aunt May got you. It made you look like the help, but it was nothing compared to the drawings you had of the superheroes.

"So what if I do? I know a ton of people who have fake crushes on you!"

"And you're not one of them?" He raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Should I be offended?"

You smiled, genuinely smiled, and shook your head. "People have fake crushes on unrealistically perfect people. Thor, Thor is unrealistically perfect. You have a ton of flaws but are essentially a good person at heart... With all respect."

"What makes you think I'm not just perfect?" He was truthfully interested in hearing your take on this.

"Because it takes a person with anxiety to know a person with anxiety." Tony uncomfortably shifted his weight onto his other foot.

"I've seen some bad stuff too, not as bad as you, but I know that memories creep up when things get too much to handle. You have a ton of things to handle. I've seen some interviews that get to you. Some things that people say. The rude reporters. Even though a lot of people say bad things about you, your company, and even your family, you still have it in you to fight for everyone. That's amazing. You're not unrealistically perfect, but you are realistically perfect to me."

He paused for a moment, absorbing what was said. "If you're not in love with me, then why do you take the time to know so much about me?"

"Because, while I don't think of you as the fake love of my life, I see you as someone I look up to."

"Believe me kid, you should look up to someone else." He tried to joke it off.

You shrugged. "I don't have anyone else." You felt embarrassed suddenly, looking down at your desk. You then smiled again and searched through your drawings, picking up one of Tony smiling. "Just think of me as your number one fan. You can have that."

"Huh." Was all he said as he looked at it.

"What? Not used to seeing yourself smile?" You giggled. "Anyways, why are you here?"

"Oh, right." He took out his phone, showing you a video of you suited up, stopping a moving car full of robbers until the police showed up.

You sighed. "Okay, you found me. What now?"

"You're not going to try and lie for your secret identity?" Tony smiled again.

"To Ironman?" You giggled again. "No."

"Well, there's a mission in Berlin I need you and the Spiderman's assistance for."

"Is that what he calls himself?"

"Yeah. You met him?" You shook your head, and Tony knew he was going to enjoy this. "Well, you're about to. Ready Spidergirl?"

"Um, shouldn't I pack or something?"

"No need. I got you provisions and clothes for a few days. Especially considering that's probably the only kind of things you have."

You clutched your baggy shirt. "Rude, but true."

"Okay then, stay here." He then left the apartment for a bit and came back with a nice looking shirt and ripped jeans. "I don't want people thinking I found a homeless girl off the side of the street."

"You're so mean." You breathed out a laugh. "Thank you though. I'll be out in a bit." You stepped out a minute later uncomfortably. "Ready?"

"Look at you, looking like a girl." He teased.

You laughed. "Who'd have known? Let's go."

"You ready to meet the Spiderman?" Tony asked as you both stepped down from the apartment complex.

"Should I be? I don't even know who that is." He winked at you before opening the door for you. You slid in the back seat and looked at a surprised Peter dead in the eye. "Holy shit!"

[creek-cryptid-deluxe]

It’s been awhile since I truly ranted about my clueless boomer father. it’s absolutely not because he’s been less awful. in fact he’s been so overly awful that I’ve not had the energy to really type out an entire vent post. 

Let’s rectify that! (Disclaimer: this shit is LONG)

So those of you who aren’t new round these parts are well versed in how clueless and selfish my “I’m not like other boomers” (def is) father. You might also know how introverted I am.

Now that word gets tossed around a lot by people who just enjoy their own company or enjoy socializing but need time to recharge, and that’s all well and good. But my personal introversion is much more... serious. Like, I can socialize but it’s draining pretty quickly, save a few people who don’t suck the life out of me because they arent work to hang out with and dont require me to entertain them. I need more recharge time than socializing time by a significant margin. Last summer my father went on vacation for a week (Bailey stayed with grandma) and during that week I didn’t verbally speak to a single fucking soul except when The Spawn (who didn’t live here at the time) came by for something. Best week of my fucking life. 

The less I’m able to recharge, the more unpleasant I become. This is important. 

So we all know that my father likes to claim a lot of things are that clearly bullshit. Among those things is the claim that he doesn’t need friends or socialization because he’s “like me” and the claim that he respects my space and need for down time. these things aren’t true. at all. Let’s look at why I saw that...

This man insists on telling me every small annoyance that happens through his day. Every single fucking day I have to hear (and read texts) repeatedly about how ignorant his coworkers are, the amount of unmasked people at stores/gas stations, & just generally self absorbed people he encounters. EVERY DAY. He clearly needs someone to socialize with. 

He will also just walk into my living room and plop down. Then he starts fucking talking or bitching at the dogs for jumping around on him. If I am watching something, he starts asking questions/commenting on whatever I’m watching. If I’m wearing headphones (which are massive and cover my ENTIRE EAR very obviously) he will stare at me and start talking until I pull my headphones off and say “What?! What is so fucking urgent?!” 

I’ve been getting progressively more short with him. I don’t answer texts that aren’t actually about something. When he interrupts me for something I KNOW will be frivolous bullshit, I exaggeratedly huff, then either rip off my headphones or pointedly pause what I’m watching and say “WHAT?! What do you need?!” If he’s bitching about the dogs playing on the couch while he tries to sit on it (which they do to me CONSTANTLY btw and I just make it work) I snap at him to just move to the fucking chair or shut up. If he goes to bitch about a coworker or people he encounters while out, I just say, “You already told me about this.” in and incredibly short tone, to which he responds “Well I wanted to make sure.” in a huffy tone. 

His most recent two days have really taken the fucking cake. 

So The Spawn frequently goes up to see her godfather, D, in Colorado over school breaks. He usually puts her on a plane or comes to get her, but with her having a car, she’s decided to take a friend with her and have her first Big Girl road Trip. She will be gone a little overr a week and she, the friend, D, and I all meticulously planned it out. My father comes in day before yesterday and says, “Hey do you want me to take vacation time while The Spawn is gone so I can be here?” I look deeply confused, “Why the fuck would you do that?” his response: “Well, I didn’t know if you’d need someone here to help with the dogs during the day while she’s gone.” 

Y’all I nearly died laughing. “Her not being here changes literally NOTHING about how the dogs are handled during the day. When she is here, she is in her room. It’s really funny that you think I have help during the day considering how often I’ve bitched about the fact that I take care of the dogs that aren’t mine far too much.” 

Then yesterday, I had spent the day employing my general tactics to discourage him from harassing me with useless bullshit. At some point, I cut him off from talking AGAIN about “ignorant, maskless, redneck gatherings at the gas station” by saying, “YES YOU TOLD ME AT LEAST 3 FUCKING TIMES. I GET IT. PEOPLE DON’T WEAR MASKS AND IT PISSES YOU OFF. IT’S BEEN A FUCKING YEAR. DEAL WITH IT. Why in the fuck do you insist on telling me this crap?” This fucking idiot laughed and said “I need to vent to someone.” I then told him to get a fucking friend or get a fucking therapist but I am not here for him to fucking vent to. 

At the end of last night I finally lost it. I blew up on him about how I have zero privacy, nobody fucking respects my space or my need to recharge my social batteries, so I’m just constantly running on empty which means I’m getting progressively more unpleasant and frankly downright mean. Near the end I said “I’m sorry but...” and intended to tell him EXACTLY what he is doing that is causing this shit but true to fucking form, this motherfucker INTERRUPTS ME and says  “Oh I never take any of this personally. no apology needed. goodnight.” and goes up to bed. 

YOU SHOULD TAKE IT PERSONALLY YOU STUPID PIECE OF SELF ABSORBED SHIT!!!! YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!! MY NEARLY 17 YEAR OLD CHILD HAS MORE AWARENESS OF MY NEED TO RECHARGE AND NOT BE AROUND PEOPLE CONSTANTLY THAN YOU DO DESPITE ME TELLING YOU ABOUT MY NEEDS IN VERY PLAIN LANGUAGE THAT A FUCKING 5 YEAR OLD COULD UNDERSTAND!!! 

LEAVE.   ME.   THE.   FUCK.   ALONE.  unless the subject of what you want to talk about impacts me directly in some way or i INVITE YOU into a conversation. I don’t vent to him unless it impacts him or the household... so why the fuck can’t he show the same courtesy? Also that whole “respect your space and not invade it” thing... on the rare occasion that he doesn’t just invite himself in and plop down in my space expecting my fucking attention, he will HOVER in the ‘doorway’ to my rooms until I acknowledge his presence, at which point he takes as an invitation. I’ve done an experiment. If I ignore the hovering, he will stand there up to 30 mins, at which point he will ask me a question and when I answer he takes it as an invitation. Like, I know my living room and BEDROOM don’t have doors but that doesn’t mean you have an open invite to just come into them whenever. You want to pet your dog but she’s on my bed? Call her. She’ll come over to you. Want to watch something with me? ASK and then, if I say yes, don’t fucking talk to me. I agreed to watch something, not have a fucking conversation. 

oh but directly telling him any of this doesn’t work because he “doesn’t take any of this personally.” Ok, it’s one thing to not take it personally when I snap at you because I’m in an astronomical amount of pain that day and accidentally snapped. When that happens, I apologize and explain. but if I don’t mention my pain, apologize, or explain then YOU ARE THE REASON IM SNAPPING YOU STUPID FUCK. 

end rant. if you read this whole thing, my condolences on the wasted time. I don’t want/need advice. I’m handling the situation the best I can in my current position. Part of that handling is that while The Spawn is gone, I’m going to do a few days where I’m here for the dogs, then when dad gets off work, J scoops me for the night, then drops me back off in the morning on his way in. He is one of those lovely people that isn’t a drain and if we are sitting in the same room, considers it spending time together. Most times, I lay on his furniture at an awkward looking but comfy angle reading a book while he games. We chat a bit during breaks or when I see him ready to throw the controller at the TV (looking at you Witcher 3...) so that will be lovely. 

as always, don’t steal my shit for your blog, article, youtube, just because you’re boring and fucking lazy. Shoo! Scat! 

[moreotpsplz]

Nicknames my mom has given me

Idiot

Stupid

Bitch

Bitching

Resting Bitch Face

Lazy-ass

Puts me down by comparing me to my brother; “Oh, at least someone’s using manners.” wink, wink, nudge nudge

“You have no social skills! Learn to communicate! Talk to me!”

“I don’t like one-worded answers!”

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Yes.” DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” Yes, Mom.” DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!”

She kept repeating that, over and over again. I responded with yes, yes mom, okay mom, I understand. I obviously didn’t give her the response that she wanted and she kept yelling, only louder. Even after she stopped, I never understood what she wanted. She never explained it to me. While she was yelling at me, I was crying loudly but still trying to give her the right answer. A few hours later, she came to my room and apologized saying that she only said that because she loved me and that I should never doubt that she loves me.

Whenever I would vent to my dad or my aunt, they would say that she was only doing it because she loves me and that she’s trying to express her love for me.

Years later, I finally found out after she was yelling at my brother, that the understanding thing was supposed to be responded with “yes, I understand.” And then to summarize what she said and what we understood.

I feel like for me, it’s mostly verbal and psychological abuse while with my brother, it’s physical abuse and emotional abuse. I often hear her slapping him and throwing things at him. She yells at him when his handwriting is incomprehensible and when he is having trouble with homework and therefore hasn’t finished it yet. She also yells at him when he does something wrong as throwing the gutsy in the recycling bin instead of the trashcan.

With me, it’s mostly yelling at me about my grades. Over the years, I have mastered the neutral-to-hostile look, apparently. My face normally doesn’t show emotion around her. As a narcissist, my mom gets angry when she yells at me and I don’t show emotion outwardly. Apparently, my face is called the Resting Bitch Face. I have been told by my dad once that I was being bitchy because I wasn’t thanking my mom for the dinner. My mom, under her breath, has called me a bitch when I did something that she didn’t know I was doing and didn’t ask permission even though she probably would've said yes otherwise. She has called me an idiot or stupid even though I have really good grades. My ‘lack’ of social interaction is troubling to her apparently. Whenever i don’t talk to her or act a little ‘disrespectful’ to her, she rhetorically asks me if that was how i talk to my friends (who I CHOOSE to hang out with and actually understand me) and that she was family and that family is the first one that you should act nicely to. As siblings, me and my brother often fight. Sometimes, he is being an idiot and I'm telling him that he needs to do something or it won’t work. I may raise my voice or tone a little bit and she hears it. She yells at me that i am his sister, so i need to act as the reassuring big sister and that she is the parent and that she is the only one that is allowed to talk to him like that. As the big sister, I’m supposed to guide him but I can't tell him what to do. Even though she never contributes to family events and she is already a terrible mother to both of us. As the big sister, I’m not allowed to ‘act like a parent’ but I'm also supposed to cook food for him, clean his room, do the dishes, clean the house, clean his room, help him with his homework, etc. My mother does literally nothing and locks herself in her room all day. She sleeps in all day and wakes up at night for a midnight snack. Dad is the only one who raises us. She reads her books on her phone all day. I’m supposed to be the parent who does all the stuff while Dad Is away but also the big sister that is supposed to support my little brother. My brother is four years younger than me. My mom can’t, my dad can’t, and I can’t control him. He steals candy from the top of the fridge and makes messes. He puts the gutsy in the wrong dispenser. He can’t help it. How am I supposed to stop him from doing those things while resisting the urge to raise my voice a little (In an authoritative tone)? I have no authority over him. I can tell him to do something and he will bluntly say no. Only my parents can tell him to do something and he’ll do it. If he disagrees with me, he will yell and scream and throw a tantrum. When my mother hears it, she blames me. When he does something wrong or something happens to him, I take the blame because I’m the big sister who’s supposed to watch over him 24/7. From the abuse, my brother is polite and insightful, I am ‘emotionless’ and distant and a bitch, apparently. I dread the months when my dad is away and I’m left with my mother. I lock myself in my room or in the basement to hide from her. She has this ‘out of sight, out of mind’ sort of brain, so if I stay away from her most of the time I can avoid any arguments. In the past, like with the understanding situation, she has ‘apologized’ and tried to tie up loose ends. Now, she doesn’t even approach us. She yells at us and makes us cry and makes us angry and she doesn’t take responsibility or apologize. The next day or a few hours later, she doesn’t even mention it and goes on with her day as if she didn’t just make her children cry. She would open our doors saying that dinner is ready and expect us to forget the event. I have had thoughts where I wanted her to die. I wanted her gone. I would imagine divorce papers or a magical disappearance. I can distinguish my family members by the sound of their footsteps and I have learned to hide when I hear hers. She has this ability to immediately ruin the mood whenever she walks into the room. I feel self-conscious when she’s in the room, thinking that she is judging me. I used to cry and get so angry when she would laugh or talk brightly with other people just after she ruined my day. She would always ask me to brighten up and that my face looked like my dog just died. I hate it when neighbors or people that just met my mom say that she is an amazing person. That admire her ability to order us around with just a word. They look at our obedience compared to other kids that just started cleaning the dishes every week. One guy that just met my mom told me that I was lucky to have a mom like that. I hate it. She’s able to completely change her attitude and demeanor around anyone outside the household. My dad, aunt, grandma, and brother all know her true self. A lot of arguments would start because my dad was informed of something or he wanted us to do something. My brother might whine a little bit or something. My mother, who would be sitting on the sofa in the living room on her phone, would immediately butt into the conversation and start yelling at one of us. Even if she didn’t know the whole story or she didn’t know what we did, she would yell at us. My dad would stand at the side and my aunt would probably enter the kitchen wondering what all the yelling was about. Both of them would just stand there and maybe take a sip of their coffee. After we would go to our respective rooms, my aunt would try to soothe us by saying that my mom loves us no matter what. I remember thinking that it would be better if she hated me. If I knew that she hated me, I could hate her too. If I wasn’t told constantly that she still loves me or she’s doing it because she loves me, I would know for certain. Being told that she loves me while also being on the receiving end of her tantrums sends conflicting messages. I don’t want her to love me. I don’t love her. I want her to hate me from the bottoms of her soul and I want her to come out and say it. It would be better if she came out and told me that she hated me instead of her indirect hints. I hate all this uncertainty.

I AM polite, just not to her. I can’t help it. I say please and thank you and sorry almost immediately, but not around her. My dad is the one who mostly does this but it’s still worth putting on here. Whenever he finds candy wrappings or evidence of doing something we’re not supposed to do, he summons both of us. It is always my brother. But he doesn’t admit it, ever. Over the years, i have either tried not to have a reason to get in trouble or I do it so secretly that nobody ever even notices it. My brother is not like that. He leaves evidence of his crimes everywhere. He can’t admit his crimes either, but he is also terrible at lying. My dad asks us which one of us did it. I tell him no, which is the truth. My brother lies and says no, too. My dad gives us time to confess and if neither of us confess, he punishes both of us.

Sometimes when she would see me after a few days while we were in public, she would reach over to hug me(An air crushing uncomfortable hug). I don’t like hugs. I don’t like physical forms of affection or even physical connection. Especially from her. I would pull away and she would remark, “Oh. Rude. I’m trying to hug you. Nevermind.”

I remember looking at my friend's moms and wishing I had a mother like that. I know their mother’s are probably different around me compared to my friends, but I want someone kind enough to not yell at me but not overly protective. I have talked to therapists and school counselors but i can’t find the courage to tell them what happens at home. I tell them the bare minimum, which still ends up telling them enough for them to get the general gist. They tell me that I should start family gatherings or talk to my mother privately to tell her what’s going on. They tell me that I should start family game night or something to help the family socialize better. I don’t know about my brother, but I don’t want that. It’s gotten to a point where I don't want her forgiveness. I don’t believe that she can be forgiven. She can’t and won’t change. When I turn 18, I'm leaving the house. I don’t want to talk to her ever again. I’d prefer no interaction to ‘positive’ interaction. If I stay in my room or avoid her, the arguments won’t happen. She is a toxic person that I have no obligation to spend time with.

My dad has said that she is suffering a few mental illnesses but that doesn’t excuse her treatment of us. He said that her mother was very strict and that she’s just trying to be a better person than her mother and that she’s trying to be less strict than her mother. I don’t care if she has a mental illness. I don’t care if she was emotionally abused. That does NOT excuse her treatment of me and my brother. I don’t care if she’s trying the best she can.

I have had thoughts of death from a very early age. I wanted to die. I would imagine dying and then becoming a ghost. As a ghost, I would witness her reaction. In some versions of my imagination, she was indifferent. In others, she would cry for months and she would suffer. I mostly thought of killing myself to make her pay. I wanted to see what she would do if something were to happen to me. One time, in a hotel, we had an argument and I got upset. Instead of returning to the hotel room (they were eating breakfast) I hid in the ice room. (Just to clarify, this room is used to dispense ice for the rooms. It’s not a life-sized freezer) I hid in that room for a while. The ice room was next to our room and I could hear them when they went to the room and couldn't find me. I stayed there for a while before deciding to return to the room. My mom hit me. She wasn’t crying, only frantic. She told me how close she was to calling the police and how dangerous it was to disappear. She asked what the hell I was doing and why I disappeared. I didn’t respond. That was enough proof.

I have learned that showing vulnerability is a weakness that she can exploit. If I show that I am hurt from her words or if I cry in front of her, she can use that against me. I try to keep a ‘strong’ face when she yells even though the slightest sign of anger causes me to cry. When I can finally retreat to my room and ‘freely’ cry, I use a hand towel to muffle my cries. I stick it in my mouth and bite on it and I don’t make a sound.

I never ask for anything extravagant anymore since I learned from my mother the horrors of money and debt. Even if we are driving through Starbucks, I won’t ask for anything. I am silent and excessively obedient.

I would always wonder if something was wrong with me. My mother has stated multiple times that I’m unlikeable and lazy. I can’t do things properly and I forget things. I sometimes don’t listen and other times I do exactly as she says. I was always the Quiet and Mature One. The one that Doesn’t Cause Disruptions. I was sworn to obedience from a young age and never grew out of it. I have an internal urge to defy my mom and do everything opposite of what she says but I also am afraid of what she’ll do if I defy her. I procrastinate and my grades are slipping. Whenever I interact with people around her, she always jokes that I ‘Finally joined us.”

My mother is a terrible person. I often wonder why my aunt and dad can even stand her. I want her gone from my life. I want her to disappear. I remember one Christmas, I had on my wish list for her to be a better person to me and to act nicely to my brother. I don’t want to reconcile with her. I don’t even want to interact with her. I don’t tell anyone this because i am aware of how terrible that would sound. To anyone that doesn’t have her as a parent, to anyone that hasn’t had to grow up with terrible parents, they wouldn’t understand. I have depression, anxiety, ADHD, and I am a maladaptive daydreamer. I haven’t told anyone this, at least in person or to anyone I actually know. I am also a Biromantic Autochirosexual who hasn’t told anyone.

I also don’t remember most of the abuse I underwent. I can only remember the major ones and the ones that went over and over in my head.