It's been a while, but I'll be taking part in @societynsoelsscribbles 'June Jukebox' event! 🎉
I've included the babe I plan to write each prompt for - but if you see a prompt and YOU want a different babe, just drop me a message and let me know! Now…. Can I complete all 30?!
Note - if you're on the Bucky taglist, you'll only get tagged in the Bucky ones, so if you fancy a peek at the others then come tell me! 💕
June Jukebox Masterlist
June 1 – Joy To The World / "I never understood a single word he said" Bucky
June 2 – I Wanna Be Bad / "No I can't promise that I won't do that" Nick Fowler
June 3 – Mack the Knife / "And he shows them pearly white" Nick Fowler
June 4 – Right Place, Wrong Time / "But I'm having such a good time" Chris Beck
June 5 – Hey! Baby / "I'm gonna make her mine, all mine" Bucky
June 6 – Therefore I Am / "I don't think I caught your name" Nick Fowler
June 7 – Jump (For My Love) / "I know you like what you see" Nick Fowler
June 8 – Living La Vida Loca / "I feel a premonition" Bucky
June 9 – Somebody That I Used To Know / "Like when you said you felt so happy you could die" Bucky
June 10 – Pink Pony Club / "Every night's another reason why I left it all" Bucky
June 11 – Little Bitty Pretty One / "Tell you a story" Chris Beck
June 12 – Tainted Love / "I cannot stand the way you tease" Nick Fowler
June 14 – Play That Funky Music / "Til you die?" Chris Beck
June 16 – Every Breath You Take / "Every smile you fake" Nick Fowler
June 18 – Come and Get Your Love / "If you want some, take some" Chris Beck
June 20 – I Touch Myself / "I don't want anybody else" (song swap) Nick Fowler
June 23 – I Believe In A Thing Called Love / "We'll be rocking till the sun goes down" Chris Beck
June 25 – Rude / "I hate to do this, you leave no choice" Nick Fowler
June 27 – The Dark End of the Street / "That's where we always meet" Nick Fowler
June 30 – Dancing Queen / "Anybody could be that guy" (song swap) Chris Beck
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Brotherly Protection Details and the Boyfriends who Avoid Them: Chapter 2
The Gumshoe and the Dame
Thank you to the wonderful @bbfwrites for kicking off the first chapter in the @star-and-shield-collective relay challenge. I had the honour of following Chapter 1: Sweet as Sugar and providing the filling to this glorious sandwich. Don't forget to catch up on part 1, and then in a couple of weeks, the legendary @azriona will be completing our trilogy!
In this chapter, Bucky decides to take his curiosity to new levels...
Words: 2,600
Warnings: none
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
He’d never admit it to her face - he’d never give his baby sister the satisfaction - but Bucky was itching to know more about Becca’s double life.
Pickleball.
Did she really expect him to believe that?
He’d taken every opportunity over the previous couple of weeks to do some research. Bob had shown him local pickleball Facebook groups in the hope that Becca would show up in some pictures and he could put his snooping to bed, he’d asked around at the home, the other residents and staff…
“Oh she’s great, a really great player! You should see her in action!” Nate had gushed.
He thought his sleuthing was going well… and then you’d spotted him at his lowest moment.
Dark sunglasses, baseball cap pulled down, a newspaper held up in front of his face as he watched from the front garden as Becca walked slowly, cautiously down the front steps and into a waiting car.
“You might be the only person except the residents in there who actually still reads a physical newspaper,” you chided, taking a seat next to him on the bench.
Bucky held the paper up higher, hiding you from the windows of Becca’s car as it pulled away.
“Hey! I’m undercover here!”
You narrowed your eyes. “How’s that going for you?”
“Pickleball?”
A wide grin crept across your face, reminding him immediately of the rush of butterflies he felt when he’d first met you. “Ohh… You don’t believe her?”
“If Nate said he was playing pickleball would you believe him?"
You mimed zipping your lips closed. He watched your hand, watched your lips.
“I think she’s got a sweetheart.” Bucky admitted.
“A sweetheart?” you teased lightly.
“Yeah, a beau, y’know?”
“The ol’ forties jive really pops when you visit here. Have you noticed that? You spend too long talking to Uncle Nate and you start to sound like him -”
Bucky laughed loudly. “Forties jive? Now who sounds like Nate?”
You rolled your eyes. “OK, back to Becca’s loverboy. Who you thinking?”
“No idea… but I’m gonna find out. Fancy a stakeout?”
Your eyes lit up. You were mid-sentence when Bucky’s eyes slid over your shoulder at the arriving UPS truck.
“Don’t look -”
Of course you looked.
“Ahh, that’s Holly’s crush, not Becca’s.”
The driver buzzed the intercom and the doors opened with suspicious speed.
“Different driver, no?”
“No? That’s Andy?”
“Thought it was Ross?”
“Who’s Ross?”
“The driver?”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Are we finding out who Holly has a crush on, or who’s been going steady with your sister?”
“Both. And we start at the very beginning.” Bucky stood and offered his hand, leading the way to Holly’s reception desk.
****
Bucky looked closely at the UPS driver.
It wasn’t the guy from before, and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t the guy from the first time…
Whoever it was, Holly twirled a braid around her finger and fluttered her long dark lashes.
“N’aww,” you breathed softly next to him. “She’s so cute! Ooh - cookies!”
Another box of David’s Cookies topped the stack of deliveries.
Bucky used her, and your, distraction to his advantage and pulled the visitor book closer.
Becca had had three visitors since he’d last been.
One of which he recognised.
Ava Starr.
Her haphazard signature a few lines beneath his own.
He filed the information away to grill Ava on later.
The other two, he had no idea.
Suitors? Pickleball coaches? Representatives from David’s Cookies?
“You’re not gonna get it from there, my friend,” a voice said, smiling warmly at you as he moved to stand next to Bucky. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
The nurse. The one from Becca’s room on his last visit.
“What you’re looking for? It’s what we’ve all been trying to find out -”
You gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth.
“Mrs Proctor’s main squeeze!” you hissed.
Bucky looked at you sharply. “Rein it in, you sound like the dame from The Maltese Falcon.”
“Dame?”
The nurse cleared his throat sharply. “We got a pool going, you guys want in?”
Your hand was in your purse before his could finish speaking.
“You’re betting on my sister?”
Your hand stopped rummaging. “… No… Well. Not until we’ve got more to go on.”
Bucky turned his attention back to the nurse. “Who’s on that list?"
****
A week later, Becca took her usual steady path from the front steps and into a waiting car.
On the bench opposite the door, Bucky peered over his sunglasses, lowering the newspaper a fraction.
Next to him, you did the same.
As soon as the car pulled away slowly down the main driveway, he was up, pulling two helmets from underneath the bench.
“Quick, we can catch ‘em at the end of the drive!”
You scurried onto the back of the bike, arms around his waist.
Just as he had the other two times this had happened, Bucky held his breath until it could be trusted to act naturally.
He peeled off after the car and followed it a few miles heading toward the city. It stopped outside a narrow house.
This was it, he was going to find out.
The door swung open and an arm extended out to help Becca into the building. Bucky leaned out, trying to see.
Then your hand tapped his shoulder. “This isn’t the guy.”
“How do you know?”
Your helmet bobbed toward the sign to the left of the front door.
“She’s getting her tootsies tended.”
Dr. H. Carlton - Podiatrist
“Dammit.”
“C’mon, I’ll buy you a pop,” you consoled him.
The diner was quiet, the in-between of lunch and dinner where there were plenty of booths by the window.
He took the seat opposite you, then wished he hadn’t because your knees were close enough to touch under the table.
Neither of you moved.
“Soooo,” you said, wrapping both hands around your soda. “Maybe her beau has a thing for feet?”
“Don’t.”
“He’s not not on the list? I wonder if he has a mechanical bed in there.”
Bucky tried and failed to not choke on his soda.
“I swear to god -”
“She’s not dead yet, Bucky. Live a little!”
She’s not dead yet.
Neither was he.
Bucky sighed. “You’re right,” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure he’d planned to admit it, and he could tell from the arch in your eyebrow that you were caught off guard, too.
“I just -” he paused, tracing a line of condensation up his glass. “She’s still my baby sister.”
“I know.”
The booth felt smaller, your knees felt closer.
Bucky found himself leaning forward, you took a deep breath which seemed to propel you closer still -
- his eyes flicked down to your mouth, a tiny, delicate soda bubble popped by the tip of your tongue -
Then your phone buzzed across the table, clinking against your glass.
A long exhale sent Bucky back down into his seat.
“Uncle Nate,” you said, holding up the phone to show him without meeting his eyes, “he’s adding the chaplain to the pool.”
“He’s a man of the cloth, he can’t date?”
“Nate says he has hard evidence.”
“Course he does.” Bucky said with a small smile. “Let’s go find out what it is.”
****
Nate was waiting for them in the conservatory, looking shifty.
Bucky gestured for you to take a seat, which you did, placing a gentle kiss on Nate's cheek as you sat next to him.
“You gumshoe's learn anything yet?” he asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“Not unless she's sweet on the foot doctor,” you sighed.
“I shoulda put it together sooner,” he lamented, “the chaplain visits her every Tuesday, eleven-fifteen.”
“That's just his rounds, uncle Nate,” you smiled. “I bet he visits Mrs Tartt the next room along at eleven-thirty -”
“He brings flowers.”
That caught Bucky's attention. “Every time?”
Nate frowned. “Sometimes.”
You patted his hand gently. “Put him on the list, I'm sure you'll get a couple of takers”
“Couple of takers for what? Backgammon? Chase the Ace? Don't be starting something you can't finish, young man!”
Bucky froze at the sound of Becca's cheerful voice.
“Maybe later, sis. Where ya been?” he rose to greet her, kissed her on both cheeks, and guided her into the seat he'd vacated.
“Oh, here and there, out and about,” she smiled serenely.
“I had no idea you were such a card-shark Mrs Proctor,” you teased.
Becca's eyes flew from Bucky, to you, and back again, he could already see the mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Let's not talk about me, my dear, I want to hear all about you -”
“Nate's niece,” Bucky told her firmly.
“Mm hmm, if you say so. Make yourself useful and fetch the box of cookies from Holly, would you? Ask her how Ross is.”
“I thought it was Andy she liked?”
“Andy? Ross? You kids know nothing,” Nate shook his head. “It’s Bobby! Bobby’s the one Holly likes -”
“- Now who’s talking nonsense, Nate Miller?” Becca scowled. “It’s Ross! Plain as day!”
Behind her, Bucky’s eyes widened. He pointed through the sitting room doors at the reception desk, and with a wink, left you stuck between the arguing nonagenarians.
****
Two weeks later, on his usual bench, Bucky peered out over his sunglasses.
On his left, you did the same thing.
On his right… Ava Starr also did the same thing.
He waited until the car door had closed firmly.
“Now what do we do?” Ava asked, still hidden behind the newspaper.
Bucky lowered his. “We follow the car.”
You frowned. “How? Unless you’re planning on putting one of us on the handlebars?”
“Maybe he has a sidecar?”
You laughed at Ava’s suggestion. “Ooh! Maybe he does have a sidecar!”
“I didn’t sign up for this,” Bucky sighed. “I do not have a sidecar, I’m parked round the corner, we need to move.”
Ava sniggered. “Thinks he’s too cool for a sidecar.”
“Why are you even here?”
“You stormed into my room demanding to know why I was visiting your sister,” she shrugged, sliding into the back seat. “Then you mentioned a boyfriend mystery and I was at a loose end.”
In the passenger seat, you turned to look at her. “Why were you visiting Becca?”
“I’m not at liberty to -”
“- She’s taking knitting lessons.”
“Alright, snitch!” Ava fiddled with her fingers, embarrassed. “Fine, I’m taking knitting lessons.”
“Nice! I prefer cross-stitch, I’ve never really gotten the hang of knitting.”
Bucky turned his attention from the road ahead and stared at you. “Jeez, not you, too.”
Ava reached out to swat him around the head. “You should get Becca to give you a lesson,” she suggested.
They drove deeper into the city this time, not in the same neighbourhood as the Podiatrist.
You studied the streets out of the window. “Where are we even -”
“Huh.” Ava hummed thoughtfully, the location becoming familiar.
Bucky frowned. “… No…”
“You know where we are?”
He pulled up opposite a house, a handful of people milling around outside.
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “I know where we are.”
****
The door was opened by a woman who may well have been older than Becca. She looked the three up and down, laughed, and handed over three impossibly small towels.
“What’s this fo -”
“You don’t want to know,” Ava muttered, nudging you down the stairs after Bucky.
Laughter echoed through the narrow corridor, bouncing off dingy tiles, you followed the sound until the room opened out ahead of you.
“Aha! They are here at last!” Yelena grinned. Bucky didn’t return it. “Welcome to my office!”
He looked at the seat next to her, at Becca, steaming water up to her shoulders.
“Following me, Jim? Really?” She asked disapprovingly. “And you brought the cavalry.”
“Why are you here, Bec?”
“Why are you here?”
“Why is everyone still having clothes on?” Yelena flicked her hand across the surface of the water. “Go undress. Then we talk.”
The three hesitated.
Then you shrugged. “Alright, let's get this over with.” You disappeared into one of the tiny changing rooms behind you.
When you emerged a few minutes later, Ava was inexplicably already in the water. Bucky’s elbows crashed against the narrow walls of the cubicle next to yours.
You ducked into the streaming water before he could reappear, and took a seat next to Ava.
“Hello dear, nice to see you again,” Becca smiled before adding, “well, a little more of you this time.”
“Nice office,” you nodded toward Yelena with a tight smile. “Warm.”
“Your pores will thank me,” she said with certainty.
“Hmm, she's right,” Ava agreed with a happy sigh, sinking deeper, “loooove an office day.”
Bucky stepped out of the cubicle, still wearing tight black boxers.
“I will allow this,” Yelena waved a hand in his direction, “because your poor sister, or me, or Ava do not want to see what is going on underneath that. Only reason. Only reason.”
“Got it. Thanks,” he barely made a ripple in the water as he slid in.
Becca patted the surface of the water next to her. “Sit down, James, you'll catch a chill.”
He did exactly as he was told.
“So -”
“So…”
“- So.”
You bit your lower lip to stifle a laugh at Yelena's taunting of the siblings.
“Are either of you going to tell me what's going on?” he asked.
“What would you like to know, Jim?” Becca asked. “Yelena loaned me her office. My knees, you know, the water really helps after a match.”
“See, is a good office. Good for skin, good for muscles, good for -”
“Public nudity?” you offered.
Bucky blinked. “Wait, you're naked?”
Yelena flicked water at him. “Hey! Are you focusing on your sister, or your love life?”
He pushed a wave of water in her direction.
“So your knees?”
“Oh! They ache like a sonofa -”
“From the pickleball?”
“Of course!”
“Nothing else you want to tell me?”
Becca swooshed the water under her fingers. “James, if I wanted you to know something, you'd know it.” She told him patiently.
“Mm hmm,” Yelena agreed.
“Wise woman,” you added.
Bucky frowned. “Who's side are you on?”
You shrugged, “Becca’s, obviously.”
He sighed, admitting defeat for now. “Traitor. Bet you still want a ride back to the home?”
“I'll take you up on that, too, Jimmy. Too long in the water plays havoc with my hair.”
“Eyes down, Barnes,” Ava ordered, swimming alongside Becca to the steps.
You followed them both, helping Becca out of the water, and changed quickly, grateful for the cool air.
****
Bucky was waiting outside on the narrow front steps when you emerged with Becca on your arm.
"Well," you said.
"Well," he agreed.
“Well, I'm getting in the car,” Becca pushed between you both. Bucky just managed to beat her to the car door to open it first.
With Becca safely stowed away, you looked up at him.
He was close enough that you could see the damp curl of hair at his temple.
"Thanks for today -" you started.
"Yeah," he said. "It wasn't so bad."
He reached out, straightening the collar of your jacket. He felt you lean in a little closer, the skin on your throat still warm from the bathhouse.
Then Becca first tapped on the window, then her watch.
“C'mon, Jimmy, they got plum pudding this afternoon and I'm not having Nathaniel stealing my slice!”
His hand dropped to the car door behind you, he waited until you were in the seat before he closed it behind you.
“Sisters, man,” he muttered, making his way around the car. “How's she still so annoying!”
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A: How did you come up with the title to [insert fic]?
B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?
C: What character do you identify with most?
D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.
G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?
H: How would you describe your style?
I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?
J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?
L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?
M: Got any premises on the back burner that you'd care to share?
N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?
O: How do you begin a story—with the plot, or the characters?
P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an "architect" or a "gardener"? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the storu unfold as you go?)
Q: How do you feel about collaborations?
R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?
S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?
T: Any fandom tropes you can't stand?
U: Share three of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.
V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?
W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?
X: A character you enjoy making suffer.
Y: A character you want to protect.
Z: Major character death—do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can't tolerate?
Transcribed from @stylinbreeze60's post.
Feel free to send me a letter(s) (or any question really! xD)
feeling guilty over not working on your fic is so silly if you think about like why are you stressing over the hobby you do in your free time for fun lol wip not whip
i love you shy reader-inserts i love you naive reader-inserts i love you soft-spoken reader-inserts i love any and all reader-inserts and you should not complain about them in the x reader tag. by doing so you are putting down someone's creative work and efforts when you could have simply moved on, or even better, written your own story
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FRIENDS. READERS. BUCKY-COUNTRYMEN. We have had such a fantastic time the last two months writing and posting drabbles for you. We started with fifteen amazing anonymous authors, all of whom rose to the challenge we set of sticking to 100 words exactly, week in and week out, through drabble prompts silly and strange.
But now we're at the end, and it's time to reveal which author has won themselves a shiny new Cyrofreeze, and who wins the fabulous and coveted Winner's badge!
The winner of the last of our Cryofreezes--a fully air-conditioned, comfort-controlled chamber with WiFi, contoured seating, all the entertainment media at your fingertips, and preferred access to the all-you-can-eat omelet bar--is:
@societyfolklore, author of Written Between Hearts
Society, we are so glad you joined us for yet another WiaC Event! All of your drabbles have delighted and thrilled us, and it was an absolute pleasure having you amongst our number! We hope you love the privacy and quiet of your very own Cryofreeze, where you can remain until our next event.
And now, the announcement you've all been waiting for: the winner of the coveted WiaC winner badge... now a two-time winner of WiaC events....
@mrsbuckybarnes1917, author of Blazing
Skittle, our darling, our dearest, our delight! You have written us nine drabbles of absolute perfection, and we have loved every single word beyond measure. We are so glad you entered the challenge again, and we hope you enjoy the coveted WiaC Winner Badge below:
Badge made by @buckybarnesfic
Friends, it has been an absolute pleasure. We hope you enjoyed our Drabble Event, and that you've gained new (or renewed) appreciation for this 100-word craft.
We plan to return in September with an announcement for our Holiday Challenge (which we are currently planning for October through December). Until then, we hope you find reading material to inspire you, and prompts to enjoy writing!
A new option for anyone with a veeeeery long doc or complicated outline (and no desire to look at all of it at once) -
Collapsible headers!
Turn them on in your Editor settings (Toggle headings), then click / tap the arrow beside any H1–H4 header to tuck that section away, safe and sound.
When you create a new header, just hit Enter, and it’ll become collapsible too.
Collapsible headers work in both the editor and on Reader links, so you can use them while writing, outlining, and editing; or to help your readers stay focused on one section at a time. We particularly love them for temporarily pretending the previous 86,491 words in a doc don’t exist (at least, not until the editing phase). 🙂↔️
Free for all, woohoo!
And another smol but mighty update this week: You can now change the email address associated with your account directly from your Settings page.
Just enter the new address via Change email under Account details. Done n' done!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Apparently, you're too old for your hobby. Bucky disagrees.
Word Count: Over 2k
Warnings: Purely self-indulgent, reader has kids, mention of fanfiction and anon hate, writer positivity, age positivity, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I had to this, okay? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You were sitting on the couch, scanning the words on your screen. You read them once. Twice. Part of you wanted to smile at the terrible grammar that dared to grace your inbox, and the rest of you was stunned by the sheer audacity of what you saw.
Screenshot. Blocked. Done.
Bucky walked in with a mug in his hand and took a seat beside you, which brought a small smile to your face. He liked being close. You were one of the only people he let into his personal space bubble.
“You okay?” he asked when you set your phone down. “You’re being quiet.”
“I’m quiet sometimes,” you tried to tease.
He tilted his head. “No, this is a different kind of quiet. Something happened,” he said because he knew you so well. “And I want to fix it.”
You smiled again. Of course, he wanted to fix it. That was the kind of man he was.
“Apparently, I’m too old to have hobbies,” you stated.
An adorably confused look crossed his face and you wanted to kiss him for being so cute. “You’re… what?”
“I got some anonymous ask on my blog basically telling me to stop posting fanfiction because I’m too old and I should do something my age,” you explained, showing him the screenshot.
Bucky stared at the screenshot, his fingers twitching before they curled into fists. He didn’t say anything. It didn’t even look like he was breathing.
The cold that filled his blue eyes told you he was about two seconds from somehow climbing into the internet and finding this person.
“And before you asked, I didn’t respond. I blocked them,” you explained, keeping the phone out of his reach. “They’re just trolling or trying to get a reaction.”
One of the wonderful things about your blog was that you could curate it for your own experience. If you didn’t want to respond to rude asks or messages, you didn’t have to. If you wanted to, you could. It was that simple.
A downside of the website was that some people seemed to forget to curate their own experiences, like simply unfollowing or blocking blogs and tags if they didn’t like, agree, or want to see them.
“I am reacting,” Bucky said in a quiet voice tinged with building rage.
“I noticed,” you said, not flinching when he set the mug down with a little more force than necessary and took a deep breath.
“That… is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot of stuff.”
You almost laughed, but he was dead serious.
“Does this…” He gestured to your phone and flexed his fingers again. “Askhole really thinks that there’s an expiration date on hobbies? Because there isn’t.”
You shifted and tucked your legs underneath you, giving him your full attention.
“That’s so fucking…” He let out a bitter laugh. “People collect baseball cards into their seventies. Eighties. They paint miniature trains. Build model airplanes. Knit. Garden. Fish. Hunt.”
“They do,” you agreed, running your fingers through his hair just because you could.
He closed his eyes at your touch before he continued. “People go to comic cons and cosplay. They play D&D. Video games.” His voice was starting to rise and your nails touched his scalp again. “And what about grown ass men paint their faces and spend entire weekends yelling at sports games?”
“You sound personally offended.”
He looked at you incredulously. “I am personally offended on your behalf.”
You snuck in a kiss because you couldn’t help yourself. You felt some of the anger leave his body when your lips touched. It meant a lot that he cared so much.
“Don’t distract me,” he whispered.
“I’m not,” you whispered back, smiling when you pulled away. “You just have very kissable lips.”
“So do you,” he said with a smile before he frowned. “But I’m still not happy because they’re acting like people writing stories is somehow less respectable because what? Other people read them online and not from a book?”
You shrugged a little. “It’s fanfiction,” you said softly.
He shrugged, too. “So?”
“So…” You tried to find the words. “Some people think it's an inferior form of writing and a waste of time.”
His brows pinched, something sad filling his eyes. “I think creating something that makes you happy is one of the most adult and superior things you could do.”
You were quiet for a moment. “Really?”
“Really.” He opened his arms for you to move close. “You have two kids who love and adore you and vice versa, and they’re busy with so many activities that you have a calendar to keep it all straight. You make sure they’re never without.”
Your heart swelled. Your babies. No matter how old they got, they would always be your babies. And you wanted them to thrive in life. That was one of the reasons you worked so hard to give them not just a nice home, but a loving one.
“You work 40 hours a week. Sometimes more,” he said, his lips brushing the top of your head. “You pour so much of yourself into that job and your teammates that it wears on you by the end of the week.”
Mist filled your eyes. You did put a lot into your job because your parents taught you the value of hard work. And as frustrating as growth in your job could be, there were perks to your job and you had a great team. That wasn’t easy to come by.
“And when you aren’t pouring yourself into the kids or work, you have a pretty amazing husband who always wants your attention,” he teased, tilting your chin up with a tender smile. “Seriously, I can’t keep my hands off you half the time.”
Heat filled your cheeks and a laugh bubbled up. It amazed you after so many years how your husband still wanted you. Still admired you. He was an amazing partner and father.
You couldn’t ask for anyone better.
“And when you aren’t dealing with a handy husband.” He smirked a little. “You’re paying bills, handling responsibilities, and checking on others. Online and offline.”
Your heart sank a little. Messages sometimes went unanswered. Asks got buried. Comments got late replies. Not on purpose. Never on purpose.
But you felt guilty just the same. It didn’t feel like enough some days. There wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough of you to go around.
“I try,” you said sadly.
“You do your best, and people see that,” he said proudly. “And after all that, you write.”
“Yeah.”
You wished you could write every single day. Life rarely gave you the opportunity to do so. You accepted that.
“I’m in fucking awe of you,” he said so seriously that your mouth fell open. “And not just you, but the community you all have online. They may not have your same kind of life or schedule, but they have their own struggles and they still find the time to create and share. You all help keep fandoms alive.”
Everyone had a life and a story to tell. Everyone had their hardships. That was one of the reasons so many of you gravitated to certain characters and communities. Life was tough enough. Building connections helped.
“I guess we do,” you said, much softer.
“Does that piece of shit askhole realize that your creations have touched people? Helped people?”
“I haven’t-”
He silenced you with a deep kiss, the words dying in your throat.
“Don’t you dare say that your writing hasn’t touched or helped at least one person because it has,” he said fiercely, cupping your cheek. “Fluff, smut, angst, soft, dark. There’s something for everyone.”
You did your best to provide a variety of stories, and you adored your readers. They were cheerleaders, supporters, and friends. You wanted them to feel loved and cared for. They deserved that.
“And some coward.” The word tasted bitter in his mouth. “Hiding behind a button doesn’t get to treat you like you don’t belong in your own space because of your age.”
Your eyes burned again. “Bucky…”
“Not to mention, you do this for free in the very limited free time you have.” He brushed his thumb along your cheek. “I’m glad you blocked them. You don’t need that trash in your inbox.”
“I’m glad, too.”
It wasn’t the sort of energy you needed in your space, and blocking them helped take your power back.
“And look at me? I’m over a hundred years old. I’m an old fucking man, and I still have hobbies.” He smiled when you snorted. “Like jumping out of planes.”
“You take after Steve,” you joked.
That beautiful man could be reckless in the best way.
“I like old records.”
“And we dance in the kitchen while listening to them.”
You always felt cherished when he held you close.
“I read,” he said, nodding to the chair where he usually sat to read.
“I should get you reading glasses,” you mused.
Even if he didn’t need them, he’d look sexy in them.
“I’m a science nerd,” he stated proudly.
“I still want to get your glasses.”
Because nerds were sexy as hell.
“I like fixing motorcycles.”
You sighed dreamily. “And you look good on your bike.”
Maybe he could take you for a ride later… in more ways than one.
“I bake with Sam’s nephews.”
You sighed again because the man looked good with kids. “They do love when you add extra chocolate chips to cookies.”
“Extra chocolate chips make it better.” He winked. “And I’m still saving the world every so often.”
You put your hand over his. “My hero.”
“So, if I can still have hobbies at my age, why can’t you?” he asked rhetorically. “If this person really thinks people should stop once they hit a certain, they’re going to live a sad life. If anything, people get better at their hobbies because they’re getting more experience which happens with age.”
You didn’t disagree.
“I don’t care if you’re in your twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, whatever age,” he promised you. “If it brings you joy? If you love it? Then don’t stop creating. Don’t stop writing your stories.”
You closed your eyes when he kissed your forehead. “Even the self-indulgent ones?”
He smiled against your skin. “Especially the self-indulgent ones.”
“Even if I write about other characters?”
“I’ll support you,” he promised.
“What if someone else says I’m still too old?” you asked.
“Then I’ll remind them, once again, that I’m over a hundred years old and they can get fucked.”
“You look very good for your age.” You giggled when he playfully growled and managed to grab your phone. “Hey!”
“You look very good for your age.” You giggled when he playfully growled and managed to grab your phone. “Hey!”
“Forget about them,” he ordered, tucking the device away. “And talk to me about one of the next ideas brewing in that beautiful brain of yours.”
An almost shy smile appeared on your face. Almost. He knew better.
“It might be better if I… show you.”
He leaned back against the cushion and helped you straddle him, his eyes dark as his hands settled on your hips. “I like the sound of that.”
You stopped him before he could pull you down for a kiss. “Bucky?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You gazed at the man who brought so much light into your life. He helped you connect to others. He fueled your creativity.
You felt very lucky.
“Thanks for loving and seeing me,” you whispered.
His eyes softened. “Thanks for loving and seeing me, too,” he said, meeting you halfway. “And if some askhole bothers you again, send them my way.”
“Yes, sir,” you teased, letting him kiss you.
So, yes, you’d keep posting your stories on your blog.
The self-indulgent ones. The ones you struggled to tell. The ones you put your blood, sweat, and tears into.
You’d joke about the writing process. You’d apologize for late updates. You’d keep on doing what you were doing.
Because there was no expiration date on creativity and hobbies.
And anyone who thought there was?
Well, they didn’t need to read your stories.
Yep. I'm a mom. A wife. A friend. I work. I adult. Fanfiction isn't just fanfiction, lovelies. It's community. Keep doing you. Curate your own experience. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
