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#my writing

First Few Words

Word Count: 1,117

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Summary: Bucky gets some alone time with his son and he takes the chance to teach him a colorful word.

Warning: Cursing, soft dad!Bucky.

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june 23rd, 2026


Bucky wasn’t ready to be a dad, he knew that he wasn’t and he had voiced that to Y/N many times. But the sweet smile she put on, cupping his jaw– firmly but with all good intentions– and whispering just how amazing he’ll be. That voice of reason. Whenever he doubted himself, he’d repeat what she always told him.

James Buchanan, how dare you think so low of yourself. You won’t be like your father and you’re not a broken vase getting replaced by a new one. You’ll be a wonderful father.

So, he went on thinking and believing every word. As time went on and Y/N’s stomach grew, so did Bucky’s insecurities. He was always careful, always worrying if he’d be good enough. He worried about whether or not their baby would be ok with the serum running through their blood. In the end, Bucky had nothing to worry about.

On May 15th, 2025, Luka Buchanan Barnes was born. A beautiful baby boy, healthy ( thank you serum ) and had two sets of lungs on him. His baby blue eyes and smile combined to get him anything. Especially from Y/N. The first few months were filled with both parents staying awake, their son on their chest or in the crib. 

The year was smooth, Luka hit the milestones needed for his age. The Y/H/C mop of hair becoming thicker by the day, and giggles louder than his cries. Everyone was content. Well, that was, until Luka started to talk.

The first time Luka talked was while Bucky and Y/N were arguing over something small. Why was there no diapers, their voices raising as Luke’s eyes darted between them. His Cheerios seemed more and more less appealing as his mother and father continued. His brows drew together, eyes narrowed. He picked up his bowl, raised it and tossed it towards his mother. 

Mama!“

Bucky and Y/N stopped in shock, mouths open and eyes wide. They both turned toward the boy, who was now happy about the attention, and they smiled. Bucky raced forward and picked up, raising him in the air as he laughed.

"I’m so proud of you, Luka! You said your first word!” he planted kisses all over his face. “You’re amazing, handsome, talented, baby boy!”

Y/N watched on with a grin, biting her nails. Her boys, so happy. Oh, gosh, what troublemakers they would make. 

The next few weeks, Bucky would sit with his son and try to teach him words. Luke had the shortest attention span and would rather play with Bucky’s arm than learn stupid words. 

On the best day of Bucky’s life, it started as any other. It was a Sunday so Sam came over to watch football. Y/N was going out with Misty and Pepper to have a girls’ day, to let the boys have fun and the girls have theirs. Kisses were exchanged and warnings of no funny business. Both men agreed with eye rolls.

At half time, Bucky sat down on the floor with Luka. The boy shakily stood with his hands fisted on his father’s shirt. Bucky drank his beer as well kept a soft hand on Luka’s back.

Sam watched his best friend closely, tilting his head. “What have you taught him so far?” he finally asked.

Bucky raised a brow, looking toward Luka with a soft smile. “A few words, dada, mama, water, potty. Simple stuff.” he shrugged. “Y/N doesn’t want to force him to learn too much at once.”

“Oh. So he’s not a piece of shit like his dad?” Sam smirked.

Bucky glared, huffing. “You know what, Wilson? Fuck you!” both men laugh loudly. “You’re such a fucking ass.”

Sam sighed, “Had to get it from someone.” he looked back towards the TV, tsking. “Football sure isn’t what it used to be.”

Bucky chuckled. “Sam, they’re still a bunch of jocks prancing around in tights.” he looked to Luka who looked thoroughly frustrated. “Want to jump, hm? Is that what you want?”

Bucky stood, carefully placing his beer down and grabbing both of Luka’s hands. He started to lift and then go down. The two smiling and laughing, Sam watched Bucky with weird eyes. Then to Luka who stared at his father like he was his world.

“Ever taught him a naughty word, Buck?” Sam asked, his posture more laid back.

“A naughty word?” Bucky repeated slowly, swaying Luka slightly. He scoffed. “Yeah, right. Do you know how pissed Y/N would be hearing, ‘Shit’ come out of his mouth? Sam! She hates it when we say it.”

Sam nodded slowly, “But–”

“Sam!”

“–It’d be so much fun!”

Bucky nibbled on his bottom lip, then looked towards Luka who now tried stomping on Bucky’s shoe. He sighed and gave in with, “Ok. Just one word.” What bad could it do?

Apparently, it could do a lot. Luka was now repeating, “Fuck!” over and over again while Sam rolled around in laughter and Bucky pulled out his hair. Teaching a 1 year old to say fuck was not a good idea, at all. Hearing it the first time was hilarious, his tiny voice released the uck but when the f came out. Bucky felt his stomach twist and his heart drop. He was so dead. 

“F-Fuck! Fuck!” the boy said happily, his hands clapped loudly.

Sam wiped tears from his cheeks, his breathing laboured. “He-He won’t stop!" 

Bucky’s eyes were wide, his hands held onto his son’s sides. His face was pale and mouth wide open, he couldn’t think of words. No words can explain how amused and horrified of this he was.

He shook his head, "No, Luka, Luka, say fun! Fun!” he tried desperately. “Fun! Say it daddy, fun!”

“F-Fu..” Luka frowned, pulling his father’s hair. “Fuck!”

Sam laughed even louder while Bucky cried, holding Luka to his chest. “Y/N gonna kill me, I’m dead. This is the last I’ll ever see of him.” Bucky muttered, rocking with him.

Sam patted his back, “At your funeral, when Luka needs to talk, he’ll say his favorite word. Fuck!” he promptly laughed again. 

Luka pushed his tiny arms against Bucky’s chest, Bucky pulled away thinking he was squishing Luka too hard. Luka pushed his father’s cheeks together, Bucky raised his brows.

“Dada…fun!” Luka giggled. “Fun!”

“Hell yes, Luka!” Bucky placed kisses all over his face, laughing. “Yes!”

“Dada…fuck!”

“Dada what?!” there in the doorway was Misty and Y/N. Y/N looked beyond mad, face red and glaring at the two men on the floor. “James Buchanan, what?”

It’s easy to say, Bucky wasn’t allowed to teach Luka alone. 

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I met my first deadline! Taking a quick look at things and then I’m posting the new chapter of Bringing the Past to Light!

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When Henrik wakes up to pounding on his door at six in the morning, he already knows who it’s going to be. 

He pulls the door open with a tired blink to see Chase standing there, holding a rather suspiciously large box and a smile. The sun’s starting to peek above some gray clouds near the end of the street, shining into Henrik’s eyes somewhat blindingly. “…Chase, it’s six in the morning.”

Chase pushes past him casually, the smile not fading. “And it’s your birthday!”

“Yeah, but…it’s six in the morning.”

Chase sets the cake down on the table and flicks some lights on. “I don’t see your point.”

Henrik walks over slowly, yawning and sleepily brushing some of his hair aside. “Can’t this wait until later?”

Chase rushes into the kitchen and then back and starts to set the table. “‘Course it can’t. You’re thirty!”

The doctor settles down at the table with a grumble. “Don’t remind me.”

This makes Chase pause and finally look at Henrik’s face fully. There’s a moment before he groans and covers his face. “Oh, god, I’ve misread the feel of the room again, haven’t I? Fuck, Stacy always used to get on me about that but-“ He gestures wildly with the hand not holding utensils. “She’s not here so-!” He sets a fork down sullenly. “I can go…You’re right, this is too early.”

Henrik sighs before tugging the box closer to him. “You’re already here. Might as well stay.”

Chase’s eyes light up again and Henrik laughs softly before opening the box and staring down at the beautiful catastrophe of Chase’s frosting talent. He had to admit, it’s gotten better over the years, but it still has a kind of…aesthetic illegibility about it. 

There’s a strike of a match and the candle in the center is set on fire carefully. Chase starts to sing quietly as he turns off some of the lamps so the light of the flame flicks and reflects along the walls. Henrik sets his head on his hand as he does his best not to fall back asleep. 

There’s a scrape as a plate is pushed in front of his face. He sits up with a jolt and glances down at the slice of cake. For some reason, Chase had cut out the piece with the candle on it, leaving an unsightly hole in the middle of the cake. Henrik rubs at his eyes and robotically takes a fork, pushing it through the soft pastry and sliding it into his mouth. “Mm…that’s good.” 

“Thanks!” Chase sits down across from him with his own piece. “Chocolate, just the way you like it. For some reason, the store had run out of the normal flavor I use so I had to experiment.” Henrik hits a clump of sprinkles and nods slightly. “And then Sara kept trying to get into the batter so I had to bar the kitchen door up until it was in the oven.” He laughs slightly and takes a bite. He chews quietly and then mumbles, “She really does become more like her mother every day…” 

Henrik clears his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for doing this, Chase. You really didn’t have to.” 

Chase lets the fork dangle from his fingers and swings it. “You can’t tell me you would’ve celebrated your birthday without this.” 

Henrik looks down at his plate intensely and takes another concentrated bite. “I have no idea what would make you think that.” 

“I don’t hear a denial.” 

“Well, I don’t have to give one.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Chase nods as he eats his last piece of cake and then pushes himself up to peer over the edge of the box. “You want the rest of the cake?”

“It wouldn’t be healthy for me to eat it all by myself.”

“That sounds like a no to me.”

“I’d like some of it, though. It really is good. You’ve gotten better at this.” He eats another forkful and nods. 

“Haha, thanks! I haven’t gotten to practice much what with work and…Sara literally diving for the batter bowl every time it reaches anywhere near completion, but I like to say I’ve improved somewhat.” Chase stares down at the cake and then does his best to cut it in half. It feels like one of those math problems he used to detest with all his soul. Maybe Ms. Collins was right. Math can be useful in the real world and he should also probably stop knighting his friends with rulers.

Though, now that he thought about it, the ruler bit didn’t seem entirely related. 

He looks up from his half-decent cutting job to see a tupperware Henrik had, at some point, left next to him. He’d migrated back to his chair and was now sleepily sipping at some tea. How long had it taken for him to cut the cake?

With a shrug, Chase deposits the smaller (don’t tell Hen) piece into the container and then tapes the box back up. “I guess I should get going. You probably have to get up for work soon and something.” 

Henrik snorts softly and gathers up their plates, carrying them over to the dishwasher. “Julia made me take the second half of the day off so I’ll be getting off early. I’m guessing you and the rest have some sort of party planned. I’d like to actually know where to go this time, instead of you dragging me halfway across the city.” 

Chase does his best to look innocent and grabs his jacket and the box up in a ball and heads over to the door quickly. “Good luck with work!” 

“I don’t hear a denial.” 

“Don’t have to give one!” He pries the door open with his fingers and then kicks it open the rest of the way. “See you later!” He salutes and slips around the door, letting it close behind him. 

Henrik smiles slightly before sleepily walking back to bed. 

Maybe this was a good way to start his birthday, after all. 

Though, it really would’ve been better if he’d come at nine.

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Marinette won’t let the Golden Boy cry alone

It’s has kind of been confirmed that Marinette didn’t have any real friends until Alya came around. That alone demands a fic. 

Do I need to said anything else? 

   "Are you sure you don’t want to go?“ Sabine asked her daughter. 

   Tracing her daughter’s features with her delicate, observant eyes. Attempting to find anything that would tell her what she was really feeling. Acting on impulse as she pushes the lone strand of hair that stuck to the side of Marinette’s face. Exposing more of her hidden expression.  Which made Marinette feel a little more vulnerable. 

   As if it pulling back her hair, pulled back the emotional curtain to reveal the play her emotions were starring in. Her Anger was the director. Her Sadness working as the designer of the set and costumes.  Her Fear and Shyness were the leads. All as her Confidence failed to show up to the audition. Effecting her badly since she grew too hesitant to draw out the words to explain to her mother that was really upsetting her. Maybe later when they’re having tea as they watched the sunset on the balcony. Or when she’s rolling dough for the bakery. Or when the atmosphere is light and smooth. Not stale and dry. Maybe not when her throat swelling up with the urge to cry or her eyes stung as she tried to keep them open to stop the waterworks from taking over. 

   Marinette lowered her eyes to the ground, trying not to show what she was hiding. Flicking between her new shoes that had a light coat of shimmer on them, effortless catching the sun rays as they shined, to the carpet under her. 

Nonchalantly she uttered. "Nah, mom." 

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after 2 goddamn weeks of pre-period symptoms, i finally got it this morning and now im between wanting to get cuddled by roger and dicked down by john ugh

Mood! I checked my clue app and I realized that I´ve been having sore boobs for a good 1.5 weeks and now my period is finally here. Both a relief and a pain. 

And I totally get your wants haha. Roger would be so good at cuddling and I definitely see him drumming his fingers against your back as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, maybe even singing softly to you. 
Oof and period sex with John? I totally get that´s not everyones cup of tea but I just see him being so considerate and just wanting to relieve you of your cramps, slowly thrusting in and out. Eyes locked on yours. He would totally make sure you came at least once before even considering doing so himself because he loved you and he hated seeing you in pain. 

Soft fluff smutty sleepover time!

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Just lazily dry humping with Ben until you both cum cause you’re horny, tired and on your period.

Oh we´re starting off well! 

So Ben obviously didn´t want to pressure you into doing something you weren´t comfortable with but he could tell you were incredibly turned on. You kept running your fingers over his chest and stomach and sometimes even teasing his cock. Just pouting when you were reminded that you were on your period. And that obviously drove Ben insane. He struggled with keeping his hands to himself as you continued your teasing. At one point he had just gotten enough and pulled you into his lap, grabbing your hips and guiding them over his. You gasped at the sensation of his bulge dragging over your clit, but you were too tired to actually move yourself. So instead you nudged your head into the crook of his neck, planting lazy kisses against his skin as he guided you both to your highs. 

Soft fluff smutty sleepover time!

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Jim fails to stop the dark ritual involving Enrique. He is surprised by the outcome.

Because I was having a hard time writing the sorcerer, I started chapter five of Juliet Dies in This from Jim’s POV before switching to the proper POV. Here is a cleaned-up and lengthened version of that draft (for example, Claire is no longer “the Annexer” as she was back when I wrote this draft)

Title comes from Romeo and Juliet, Act V, Scene iii, Line 112

AO3

FFN

By using NotEnrique’s connection to his familiar, Douxie and Archie had been able to find Enrique; they had texted everyone using the groupchat. It was a good thing that they had set up a separate groupchat for memes, or else Jim would have ignored it.

He stood in front of a relatively nondescript warehouse, like some bad horror movie or action film. First to arrive, he knew he should probably wait for backup. After all, last time he tried to rescue Enrique on his own he had fucked up badly enough that he had released a genocidal warlord.

Then again, last time he tried to rescue Enrique, he had been in the care of someone who needed him safe. The goblins and changelings had needed him safe. They didn’t know enough about the spellslinging kidnapper to know if he would try to keep Enrique relatively unharmed, or how long Enrique had to live.

Well, at least the warehouse was near the hospital, should anything go wrong.

Jim cut the lock with his glaives, and then switched to wielding Daylight.

“I know you’re in here,” he growled, turning about. “”Where’s Enrique?”

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Link to chapter 1

A/N: Oh my word this took forever but it’s finally here! Real life is keeping me very busy at the moment so I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll be able to publish chapter 3 but it will appear at some point! 

Chapter 2: Spoils of Tragedy

It was not often Carla felt nervous, but as time stretched on and Shin failed to make a reappearance, a distinct sense of anxiety descended upon him. Coupled with the already unsettling air of the mansion, it was enough to make his stomach twist as he tried to think of plan of action.

Even if they could find somewhere with phone reception, it wasn’t like there was anyone they could call aside from Karlheinz, the man who’d led them here in the first place. His thoughts trailed the same paths over and over as his eyes traced the patterns in the carpet, trying to find something he’d missed, anything they could use.

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He is…(part 2)

More warm-up shenanigans.

****

Vincent is…sunshine and turpentine. A scarf wound round your chilled neck, still warm from another body. Eyes as wide and blue as the sky, that make it hard to forget there are galaxies and the entirety of space hidden just beyond its arc - out of sight but never out of mind. That single gasping breath stolen between kisses, and the whisper of eyelashes along your cheekbone. Questions half spoken, answers half assumed. 


Isaac is…the sun-soaked peach of a blush, soft and sweet and warm against your skin. Cherry eyes and blossom skies and a rain of petals spangling hair, the softest not-blizzard ever. Grazing fingertips over dew-dropped grass and letting the night breeze lap the dampness away. Losing count of the stars at ninety-nine in a fit of laughter and starting all over again. Listening not to what he says but to the spaces between his words, the brief beats of silence that tick out truths in morse code.


Theo is…an ocean stare that harbors leviathans in its fathomless depths. Rough, scuffed knuckles hashmarked with faint scars, tallying up the pyrrhic victories in a constant war against the world. Wicked eyes and wicked smirks and a reminder that even the devil was once an angel too. Hugs tight enough to feel the rondo of your own heartbeat circle back in his timbre, every echo drumming out ’where you go I follow’. The sun plucking fire from tousled strands of bronze, shifting in the breeze like a nodding field of autumn rye. The final sweltering days of summer as they slide gratefully away into fall. The lingering patina of maple and bourbon-soaked kisses on your lips.

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i know i souldn’t be upset to one single comment about how bad my grammar is, but i am.

do you guys understand me when i write? for real…because now i’m not even sure about it.

i’m new to writing and english is not my first language, yes i know that! and i still struggling to find me an english beta reader, so right now i’m stuck.

thank you to some of you who appreciated invisible man i know it has flaws, but try to imagine that everyone around me talk in italian, and aside from writing and tv series, the only language i hear is italian….so it’s a lil’ hard sometimes….


so sorry to come here to vent, but i’m trying not to cry….(not for the comment itself, i appreciated it, but because suddenly… i’m not sure of anything)

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I’m hoping the prompts are still open. I’d love to request a Nick Amaro x Reader fic where the reader gets her first ticket and she’s upset. I’d like to see how nick would react honestly. Love your fics!

thank you for the love!

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“So, you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Your gaze was fixed on the television and you paused in chewing on your bottom lip. Nick’s arms were a comforting presence as you lounged against him on the couch. You’d been keyed up ever since you got home, but one benefit of having a small child was that evenings got caught up in nighttime routines. It had taken the heat off of you and you poured your anxious energy into making sure Elijah was fed and bathed before bed.

“What gave it away?”

Nick lifted his hand from your shoulder to your hairline and began carding his fingers through your hair slowly.

“You’ve been chewing on your bottom lip so hard I’m afraid it’s going to disappear,” he replied lightly. “Plus, you’ve got that look on your face—the one that says ‘will you help me bury the body?’”

You laughed despite yourself and turned in his embrace. Taking the chance to trace over his face with your eyes, and then a finger along the perimeter of his hairline and over his cheek, you sighed.

“I got a ticket today,” you said lowly. The despondency was already creeping back in and the knot in your stomach that had loosened began to harden around your dinner. You swallowed hard and found your mouth suddenly dry.

“Ticket? For what? A show? What are we seeing? Was it Hamilton? Were they expensive?” Nick fired questions at you and not for the first time you felt a pang of regret for any suspect on the other side of an interrogation table from him. He  wasn’t aggressive, though, merely curious. He sounded some what excited, although you wouldn’t dream of dropping hundreds of dollars on tickets to see Hamilton when Elijah seemed to outgrow clothes in five minutes.

“Not Broadway,” you replied darkly. A finger found its way into your mouth again and you tugged at a stray cuticle. “A speeding ticket.”

“A…speeding ticket? Where were you even going in the middle of the day?” Nick’s nose wrinkled up in plain confusion and you sighed and fell back against his chest.

“Had to run an errand in Jersey and I figured it’d be faster to rent a car and drive there than fuss with the subway and bus or Uber. I was worried about being late to pick up Elijah after it took a little longer than I had planned and…” you trailed off and let him fill in the rest.

“I knew I had to cut off your Fast and Furious movie marathons every weekend,” he teased.

You elbowed him and made a chastising noise.

“It isn’t funny!” you cried. “I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket before. I feel so embarrassed. Not to mention, the last thing we need to do is throw money in the street.” You shook your head at yourself and exhaled hard.

“Want me to take care of it?” he asked with a kiss to the temple.

“No! Wait, can you do that? No!” You were torn between impulses. “I’ll pay it and be mortified and never drive again. There’s a reason I chose to live in New York City.”

“…so that I can drive?”

“Exactly,” you joked. “But really. I feel so horrible. I don’t know how people wrack these things up.”

“They have a different sense of responsibility and guilt than you, my love,” he replied gently with another kiss to the side of your head. “It’s what I like about you. I’m sorry you feel bad about it, but it happens to most of us.”

You sat there for a moment not saying anything and finally went back to half watching the television. Nick continued his hand’s journey over your shoulders and arms and you soon felt lulled and soothed by his embrace. He probably had a point…and you really hadn’t been going that much over. You’d pay it and that would be the end of that. Literally. Next time you were making someone else drive.

“So…how fast were you going?” Nick broke the silence to ask. “Fast fast? Cause that’s kinda sexy.”

“Nick Amaro!” you exclaimed as you whipped around in his embrace and whacked him gently on the shoulder.

He laughed and caught your hands before trying to shush you.

“Elijah’s going to wake up.”

“Elijah could sleep through a parade,” you contradicted him. “He’s a New York City baby.”

“He doesn’t even know his mom is a speed demon.” He wiggled his eyebrows and you pushed against his chest.

“You are insuffer—”

He cut you off with a kiss and you allowed yourself to sink into it.

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Thank you for the tag, @etjwrites! I’m grateful I have the chance to show off this snippet - it’s a recent favorite of mine.

For context’s sake, this takes place soon after a criminal of indisputable repute is discovered in the Northern capital and sentenced to die. Thus, the duty falls to Knight-Commander Elyk, military leader of Aeonor and father of Oeden, to put the malefactor to the sword.

Knight-Commander Elyk strode toward the dais with a reaper’s gait, Vicegrip repeating its guillotine swing with each step he took towards execution’s threshold. The sunset encroaching through the cathedral windows swallowed his blood-rusted armor in a rainbow of unearthly luster. “You will kneel before the North King’s throne,” he repeated, sword outstretched in an unspoken challenge, “or you will stand before the Maker’s.”

This time around, I would like to tag: @ratracechronicler, @charvaughn-writes, @theguildedtypewriter, and a new friend - @frigginwriting! Feel free to participate or ignore as you please.

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