Hey guys, I just want to tell all of you thank you for all of the love and support in everything I create here
Writing has been my passion, my love, and my therapy for a long time. And being able to share that with all of you wether it helps you too or just makes you smile every once in a while is an honor. But now this blog feels like it's dragging me down
I love fanfiction and I can't imagine that I'll stop writing it for a very long time. But I've cried countless times over not being able to create something that is up to par and that I'm proud of enough to share with you.
So I will be taking an indefinite hiatus. But I want to clarify what that means:
I WILL be finishing up the ships in my inbox as soon as my schedule allows. I promise you that
I may post some pieces that I write of my own passion and whims, but I may not post often
I'm always here to talk, chat, or whatever, but I won't be answering asks as to when I'll be back or when things will be completed
All of my series will be on hold for the foreseeable future until I can find it in my to continue with them
If y'all have any comments, questions, or concerns feel free to bring them up and I'll see about answering them in the new year. Thank you guys, I love you all a lot! -Cas
college marvel au
frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader
tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.
Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.
main masterlist
I’ve been tutoring Bucky.
Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.
Ugh. Anyway.
He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.
But he’s not. Like… at all?
He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’
Who does that??
Like… stop. That’s not fair.
But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?
And GOD. He’s hot.
Like, it’s actually rude.
He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.
He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.
So no. I’m not gonna say anything.
Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.
So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.
I’m just going to help him pass stats.
That’s all this is.
Right?
God, I’m so dumb.
—
You were fucked.
Well and truly screwed.
You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.
But how were you supposed to focus?
Your diary was missing.
Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.
You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.
The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.
It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary.
You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.
You wanted to scream.
Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.
You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over.
Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room?
What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?
You didn’t even want to finish that thought.
No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.
Bucky.
Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?
Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.
You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.
You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.
Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.
Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.
“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.
He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”
No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.
“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”
A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.
And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.
Your stomach dropped.
“I read enough,” he said.
You froze.
Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.
“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”
You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?
You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.
“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.
You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”
He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”
You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”
Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again.
“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”
Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”
He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.
“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”
Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.
“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.
He held your gaze, completely serious now.
“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”
That last part made your head spin.
“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.
He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”
You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”
He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”
You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.
“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.
“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.
“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.
“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.
“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”
Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.
You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.
“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.
And then he kissed you.
He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.
“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”
“Just good?” He smirked.
You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”
He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”
“More like definitely.”
There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.
Offering Commissions again since I'm willing to write for a lot more groups now.
I usually write Member x Member, but I am open to write Reader Insert and OC Fics.
Groups I can write for:
-Stray Kids
-NCT
-Zerobaseone
-Evnne
-One Pact
-8Turn
-Cravity
-&Team
-The Boyz
-Boynextdoor
Content wise, I'm open to writing almost everything, from fluff to smut to dead dove, but I can’t promise that I will accept every commission.
The two absolute no's are 'Major Character Death' and 'Underage'.
The Pricing is 1€ per 100 words. If you’re not sure how many words you want, we can talk about a rough price range. Payment will be discussed in DMs.
If anyone is curious about my writing, you can find my works here on tumblr and on AO3
Hey, I'm Cas. I'm disabled, trans, and black, and in desperate need of help. In August I'm moving… Castor Curtis needs your support for Bro
Please spread this even if you can’t help
Hey guys, my moving window is getting closer and closer, and with my last day of work being at the end of next month, and there being a minimum of a two week gap with no real income for me and my mom, I really really could use some help. I made a GoFundMe if you’d be willing to share that or donate. You can also check out my various commissions and such, I’ll link them below. And I’ll also link my paypal and kofi if you want to donate directly there so a cut isn’t taken out.
Hey y'all, I'm really sorry to ask for help here after being inactive for so long. But if this reaches any of you please please check it out and boost it. I really need the help. Thank you
Hey guys, I’ve once again fallen on hard times. My car needs $2,000 in repairs, and in the meantime I have to rely on my 84 year old grandma to get me to and from my job which is 20 minutes away, and I usually don’t get out of work until after 2am. So a little help scrounging up money towards my bills or groceries would be greatly appreciated.
For information on how you might be able to help, you can find me writing commissions here, and my tarot readings here. And if you just want to help out, here are a couple links:
buy me a coffee (I also offer song fic commissions here)
check out my paypal
even if you can’t help, just reblogging this could do a lot so please give me a hand
Hey guys, I’ve once again fallen on hard times. My car needs $2,000 in repairs, and in the meantime I have to rely on my 84 year old grandma to get me to and from my job which is 20 minutes away, and I usually don’t get out of work until after 2am. So a little help scrounging up money towards my bills or groceries would be greatly appreciated.
For information on how you might be able to help, you can find me writing commissions here, and my tarot readings here. And if you just want to help out, here are a couple links:
buy me a coffee (I also offer song fic commissions here)
check out my paypal
even if you can’t help, just reblogging this could do a lot so please give me a hand
Hey guys, this is one of my friends and it would mean a lot to me if you guys can help him out or help spread the word, even just a reblog would be amazing
It’s because Bucky has a habit of letting Steve go first.
—–
1) Always let Steve go first up the stairs, so that you can keep an eye on him. It’s easier to count Steve’s breaths and notice when Steve’s heart does that thing that makes him stop and shake. Much easier to stop and pretend to tie your shoes while you wait, worried, than to realize 2 flights too late that Steve’s no longer with you.
Later: Your limbs are sore and numb from being strapped to a table for 2 days and you’re pretty sure you haven’t eaten and the entire base might be exploding, but when Steve says “let’s go up,” you tell him to go first.
——-
2) Steve’s walk was mostly normal, though he swung his hips in a certain way to compensate for his scoliosis, and that put a special cadence to his stride that you unconsciously match. Even without Steve around you would twist your hip back before swinging your leg forward. Twist, swing, twist, swing.
Later: Steve is leading the way through the forest, and you’re finally used to his height and broad shoulders and that dumb shield, but something still feels wrong. Somehow your pace doesn’t quite match, and you can’t figure out why.
——-
3) Colors don’t work the same with Steve, so always describe unfamiliar objects by their shape and relative location, like that square window past the third door on the left, or the man wearing that unseasonably long coat standing in the corner by the garbage can.
Later: The boys are singing in the other room and you’re at the bar with Steve, trying very hard to get drunk because of course you’ll follow Steve into whatever but that doesn’t mean you have to do it sober. “Steve,” you whisper, “Check out that lady by the door, next to that short thin guy who has his shirt open.“ Steve looks over. “The one in the red dress? That’s Miss Carter.“ You can’t decide what surprises you more – that Steve can see red now, or that he knows her name. So you decide you need another drink.
——-
4) When walking down a narrow dark alleyway always stay on the right, because Steve’s bad ear makes the right side feel blind to him (though damn if Steve’d ever admit that). On broad open streets, switch to Steve’s left side, so that Steve could hear you better through the noise.
Later: Dum-Dum gives you a weird look as you line up to charge into a Hydra base. “Why won’t you take the left flank for a change?“ You start explaining Steve’s bad ear before you remember that he’s not that Steve any more, and that Captain America doesn’t have a bad ear.
——-
5) Stuff in your left pockets are for Steve: the asthma cigarettes that Steve could never afford, a dime for that popcorn that Steve likes, tickets for whatever shindig you’re trying to drag Steve along to. Sometimes you put things there for Steve and totally forget about it, like extra paper and a spare pencil in case Steve wants to doodle. The left side always belongs to Steve.
Later: Steve is awfully quiet by the campfire. You sit down by his good ear and reach into your left pocket. "Hey,” you say, pulling out a news clipping about the war front that featured a lovely photo of Miss Carter. “You read this yet? They think Morita’s a Japanese defector, but the section on Dernier is priceless.”
—————
Still later:
Report on the Winter Soldier reset procedures
After the latest test run, only the following anomalies remain:
A) The asset tends to hug the right walls and not the left, and hesitates for 30 microseconds before climbing stairs. However, he does not hesitate when scaling walls or ladders.
B) When walking unopposed the asset has a characteristic and identifiable stride, which is dropped when he is making a covered approach.
C) The asset communicates via relative locations, often omitting crucial color information. However, he can be commanded to describe the colors of any object in impressive detail.
D) When dressing himself, the asset keeps his knives exclusively on his right side, and his left pockets are underutilized. This may be an effect of continued unfamiliarity with the new left arm.
After extensive field testing, we have determined that these anomalies do not impede the asset from completing his missions, and declare the reset process complete.
——————
(Some habits linger, even when the person is gone.)
[basically the textual partner to the colorblindness comic] [Steve-angst sequel here, happy resolution pseudo-sequel here]
i’m a film student at umich with a focus on screenwriting
i also teach a creative writing course on the weekends
i’m trilingual (english, french, spanish)
one of my favorite movies is the muppet movie
i’ve never had a pet but i really want a husky or like any big dog bc i love them
and i absolutely love to read your writing because it’s so amazing and it inspires me 💕
for the scenario if you could do #8 that’s be greatly appreciated!
Hey! First thing’s first, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy! Also you sound like the coolest person I’ve ever met and I considered going to umich but then I didn’t go to college!
I ship you with Sam Wilson
Sam would admire your creative abilities and your passion, and he’d always be your number one fan and supporter in anything you pursued.
What They Do To Make You Feel Special: Sam would always go above and beyond when it came to making you feel special. He’d want to involve you in everything that matters to him as proof that he’s letting you in. Letting people in isn’t always easy for him.
He’d make you dinner. And I don’t just mean spaghetti or a frozen pizza. He takes a day just to work on a four course meal for the two of you. He’d want the time to catch up, to let you talk about whatever was on your mind. You both have busy schedules, but he never wants to miss a beat.
After dinner he’d pamper you. A shoulder rub if you wanted, or cuddles. He’d drag you somewhere comfy, and cuddle up. Probably let you pick a movie or two. And he would refuse to leave your side the entire time.
Once it was dark out, probably the middle of the night, he’d give you a jacket and bring you outside. Under the stars, he’d hold you, pull you tight to his chest and whisper everything that he adores about you.
I think Sam would feel bad a lot of the time. His work as a hero and his loyalty to the community drags him away from you more often than he would like, and you’re busy with school and your creative writing classes that he doesn’t feel he devotes enough time to you. This would be his way of making up for that. He’d tell you everything he missed about having you with him, and every though he’d been having about you that he’d squirreled away.
And under the stars he’d tell you about every amazing thing he’s done, and that you’ve done, and how he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be alive and loved by you.
There’s a new Situation and because of this Situation I can’t even tag anyone to spread the word. I was recently informed that as of about 18 hrs ago at this point (Jan 1st, 1pm EST) NO NEW POSTS are showing up in ANY tag search on ANY browser/app. I’ve checked this to confirm.
Myself and many others have noticed that posts have been taking a very long time to show up in tags these past fews day (my last post took about 5 hrs). Yesterday around 2pm EST staff reported they were aware of the issue and were working on a fix. This new development appears to have started around 7pm EST, which leads me to believe it’s a result of the “fix” that’s currently in progress. Unfortunately this has made the already bad situation impossibly worse in the meantime.
I have no idea how long this will be an issue but you may want to hold off on posting any new content until it’s sorted out.
My ship event is over. I have a few more coming out in January, but I am not taking anymore requests at the moment
There's a chance that I'll open them back up in another event, or if I get a little more free time to put into them but I don't see that happening in the foreseeable future
