Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!
Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!!
It’s called empathy
Bucky x reader
Word count: 1981
Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort
Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing
You felt a tear escape your eyes
You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.
You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears
Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over.
Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.
Weak sensitive piece of shit.
What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad.
You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak.
You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse.
The answer was usually yes.
Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable.
It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved.
You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through.
The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise.
But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself.
You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you.
You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.
But you didn’t get to make that choice.
The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks.
You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.
It was a vicious cycle.
Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them.
This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen.
Your emotions came and went without your consent.
You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.
A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!”
There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again.
You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night.
“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”
You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?
“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”
“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”
“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”
You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”
Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”
You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”
“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”
You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words.
“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”
“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid.
You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”
Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”
“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.
Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”
“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”
“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”
“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?”
Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”
You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.”
“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”
You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”
“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.”
You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.
He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”
93 notes · View notes
I try to go with the flow. I’ll either hear 1 lyric, 1 line, or have a request and build off of that. MANY of my older fics before I started getting requests would be based on one singular lyric from an obscure song.
I actually still have a google document of one liners from songs buried somewhere…maybe I should dig it back out.
When I get stuck I either take a break, start a new fic, or jump to a different part of the current fic. Sometimes I scrap the whole thing and start over.
Question to all my fanfiction writer followers: do you outline or go with the flow??
8 notes · View notes
I’m working on a fic rn and I got a burst of inspiration it might be up tonight :)))
Also update I’m still sick and it’s vv hot out and I have a fever BUT a friend offered to bring me soup so it’s gonna be ok!
1 note · View note
Thank you for your kind words. It inspires me that you’ve gotten past that place, and even though I don’t know you, I’m proud of you. I think we all wish we had a support who was there for us and wouldn’t judge us or berate us or lecture us about being grateful. Someone who listens and understands.
I’m glad that you found this comforting and that it holds a place in your heart. Im so sorry if anyone ever made you feel invalidated or guilty in the past.
Keep fighting, you’re a warrior❤️
Where’s my white flag? (Bucky x reader)
Bucky x reader
Word count 2620
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, depression, worthlessness
Summary: Reader is on the roof experiencing suicidal ideation and Bucky talks her down from it.
A/N: Please, PLEASE, if you think this will do more harm than good, skip this one. I don’t want to harm anyone in their journey, but writing comfort helps me feel as if I am getting it. I hope that you can feel some too, because people do care. If you feel similar ways to this fic, please reach out, you’re not alone. As always, my messages are open too. <3
Taglist: @buckys2thicc @abitgryffindorky @thatfangirl42
It was a gorgeous night, really. It was a warm summer night, a light breeze blowing your hair. The sky was clear, stars scattered across it. The moon was bright, and the streets weren’t too loud for New York. The buildings lit up the streets, and even in the busy city setting, it wasn’t as harsh as it could be sometimes. It really was beautiful.
Especially looking over it from the roof of Stark Tower.
506 notes · View notes
On this installment of ‘What in the fanfiction?” in my life:
My doctor that I had for 13 YEARS in my life before I changed to a new one for...something I deem to be irresponsible of her to have said: I JUST FOUND OUT SHE DOESN’T HAVE A DOCTORINE IN MEDICAL SCIENCE OR ANYTHING. she has her degree in ZOOLOGY and ZOOLOGY only! come to find out from my mom (who’s an actual nurse) that that is COMPLETELY FINE AND OKAY AND DANDY IN THE AREA I LIVE.
Your doctor doesn’t have to be a doctor of medicine folks. at least not here.
she’s still a doctor by the way. I just don’t see her because I don’t appreciate doctors who say things like she said.
4 notes · View notes
This is being sent around :)
If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself, and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! <333
Thank you so much! I’d love to do a get to know me post so that’ll be coming but I’ll start with 3 random facts
1) known by most people in my real life but I don’t think I’ve mentioned it on my dash - I’m a singer. I do covers of songs in recording studios and post them on YouTube from time to time. I’ve written 1 original song (not posted anywhere) and I’ve rewritten many songs from other perspectives (such as hey there Delilah)
2) I have only broken 1 bone ever and really it was just a fracture - it was my hip and I did it dancing. I didn’t fall, but the Cupid shuffle came on which was my jam and I was a lil too enthusiastic and kicked my leg too high. Broken hip.
3) math is my favorite subject. I love math. Natural sciences are great but chemistry is the devil.
I plan to do a more in depth things about me post - if you’ve ever seen tiktoks saying “these are small things that I do and why I do them” - that. Things like that. 😂
1 note · View note
You guys deserve some kind of explanation -
I’ve received many requests and I’m working on them. I know I say that a lot but I’ve been really sick these past few days. I’m waiting for the results on some tests they ran, they don’t think it’s Covid but it might be strep, we don’t know.
I’m also having a really hard time mentally and I don’t wanna use my account to vent but I’m just trying to take some time for me. I’m really sorry that my writing has been taking so long. I love you all and thank you for the support❤️
2 notes · View notes
OMG yes please share your playlist!!!
I'm still a Tumblr idiot, I posted it as a separate post - you can find it here !
There's one for sad songs and one separate one for Bucky
1) a compilation of all of my favorite sad music to cry to or to make me feel better
2) A playlist I made for songs I think Bucky would relate to
Let me know if the links don’t work!
1 note · View note
How would we feel if I shared my playlist of my favorite songs about mental health? Both sad songs that I cry to and songs that give me hope? Yes?
1 note · View note
Everything I wanted to be
Lance tucker x daughter!reader
Word count 2215
Summary/request: Requested by @maximeevansblog - reader is Lance Tucker’s daughter and he coaches her. The night before a competition she has a nightmare and Lance comforts her.
Warnings: nightmare, Lance being an asshole, Lance being a little OOC (as far as the movie goes), fluff, angst, mostly fluff
A/N: I have very little knowledge on the logistics of gymnastics routines. If I describe anything poorly or in an incorrect way, I apologize. I also know that the Lance we see in the movie doesn’t scream ‘comfort’, but I feel like this isn’t too far off from how he’d react to his daughter needing comfort if he had a daughter in some sort of AU. I didn’t write for a specific age of the reader but it’s more for someone in their late teens ish give or take (lmao)
A/N 2: Sorry it’s been so long for updated content and new fics and this one took me a long time I’m trying my best with everything! Thank you all!!!
TAGS: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @babyboibucky @buckys-blue-eyes @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @thatfangirl42 @bucks-bunny @strawberrimae @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing @thanksforallthesushi
Main Masterlist add yourself to my taglist!
Lance Tucker was an Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, and a sought after gymnastics coach. Slightly arrogant, but consistent and dedicated to being the best. And he was. He was the self-proclaimed God of Gymnastics, and while his coaching style wasn’t for everyone, he was one of the best at what he did.
He was also your father.
You didn’t know your mother too well, she had left when you were too young to remember. It was just you and your dad, Lance. You had started gymnastics from an early age, and it was your choice. Some parents force their dreams onto their child, and they expect their child to be the best at whatever that may be.
That wasn’t exactly the case for you.
You had wanted to get into gymnastics but it was because you looked up to your father. You wanted to make him proud. He had been ecstatic of course, and he had been private coaching you since you were old enough to get started. He was hard on those he coached, and you had heard people call him an asshole, a dick, everything.
He was harder on you.
You knew deep down that he just wanted you to succeed. You never let it bother you because once you left the gym he became your dad again, rather than your coach. The only reason why he pushed you was so you could become the best gymnast you could. He was a great coach. But he was your dad too.
You had trained all of your life and were living up to the Tucker legacy. You were competing for the World Championship qualifications, tomorrow.
You were nervous as all Hell for it. Your father had been training you long and hard lately. Whenever there was a competition coming up he would work you longer and harder, and the critiques would be harsher. He would stop you mid routine to tell you to start over again, even if it had been the smallest of mistakes. But he gave you credit when credit was due.
He knew that you would use the criticism as fuel to push yourself. He had found that out through years of coaching and parenting you. You would push yourself out of spit to prove him wrong. He was so proud of you, but it wasn’t the time to be proud yet. It was time to perfect your routine.
The sun had set, and you were going through your floor routine for the upteenth time - you had lost count - and you were starting to feel nervous. So much so that it was clouding your mind, causing you to hesitate and make small mistakes. You weren’t even registering the criticisms and remarks anymore, knowing they were coming while also knowing that listening wouldn’t help at this point.
At some point your father had called it a night, frustration lacing his voice. He could tell something was bothering you, but you being a more closed off person, he didn’t think right now was the time to talk about it.
“We’re done for tonight. I think if you just try to get some rest tonight you’ll be fine for tomorrow. Do some stretches while I close up.”
You nodded, sitting on the floor to stretch out your legs while doubts crossed your mind. You were nervous about tomorrow. You were worried about disappointing yourself but more than that - you were worried about disappointing your father.
The two of you rode home in silence, and you took a shower the moment you got home, getting ready for bed. Before you went to your room, Lance tried to ask if anything was bothering you. You had simply shaken your head and said goodnight.
He knew something was wrong. But he knew that he wouldn’t get anything out of it by pushing you. He was the same way.
You tossed and turned, anxieties about the next day and the expectations running rampant through your mind. Eventually you were about to fall asleep.
You were doing your floor routine, Lance standing with his arms crossed looking expectantly at you. You had hesitated on your first handspring, the landing sloppy. You had been able to get back on track, but you nearly fumbled a few more times. It was not your best performance, and it certainly wasn't good enough to be in this competition.
As you came off to the side, your father held his arms out, pissed expression on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck was that?”
You winced slightly, feeling tears sting your eyes. “I- I don’t know, I just messed up, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help anything, y/n. You fucked up just like I knew you would. Everyone is gonna remember this and it’s your fault. I wasted so much time and effort on you and you pull this kind of shit.”
“I didn’t mean to dad -”
“I don’t care what you did or didn’t mean to do. You did it. You fucked up and that’s on you. I expected better from you and you disappointed me again.”
You woke up with a start, looking around the room quickly. You tried to take a deep breath as you put your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes as you tried to stave off tears.
It was just a dream.
It was just a dream
Just a really bad dream
You picked up your phone to look at the time, groaning at how early it still was. You should go back to bed. It was too early to be awake. But you were too worked up to be able to do that now.
You sat up in bed, trying to calm yourself down. It was stupid really - you had trained all of your life for this competition. You did everything right. Your dad was proud of you.
Sure, he was hard on you, but that was just his coaching style. He just wanted you to be the best gymnast you could be. But the dream felt so real. What if you were really a disappointment to your father? What if he was embarrassed by you?
You didn’t know when the tears came, but they were falling down as you took a shaky breath.
All you had ever wanted was to make your father proud. You were interested in gymnastics initially because you knew that he was. And you had come to love it, but more than that you wanted to live up to your father’s expectations. If you were proud then you knew you were doing something right. But he always had some sort of criticism. You knew that was how he coached and he pushed those with the most potential the hardest - but you couldn’t help but doubt it sometimes. Maybe he felt obligated to train you because you were his daughter. What if you were just another student to him? Would he still be coaching you if you weren’t his child?
You were brought out of your thoughts by a small knock on your door. You pulled your hands away from your face and looked up to see your dad leaning against your bedroom door frame, arms crossed. “You okay hun?”
You creased your eyebrows together and looked down at your hands. “Yeah dad, I’m fine,” you said, voice wavering slightly as your doubts still ran through your mind. You hated crying around anyone, most of all your father, scared to show any sort of weakness around the strongest person you knew.
“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. He hated when you would deny that something was bothering you. When you nodded, he sighed again. “You’re awake in the middle of the night and I heard you crying. That doesn’t seem like fine to me.”
“I’m just tired and worried about the competition,” you reasoned.
Lance looked at you for a moment before pushing himself off of your door frame and entering your room, sitting on the edge of your bed. “You’re solid y/n. You’ve been doing well training lately and the only reason why you hesitate is when you get in your own head.” You sighed, embarrassed. “You’ve never been this stressed before competitions, are you sure that’s everything that’s bothering you?” he asked gently.
You felt a lump forming in your throat but tried to swallow it down. You nodded almost invisibly, not wanting to sound petty looking for reassurance.
“Y/n look at me,” he said gently.
You took a breath and looked at your father, eyes red and new tears forming. You bit the inside of your mouth, trying to keep them from falling.
“This isn’t just stress about the competition. What’s keeping you up?”
“It’s stupid, just a bad dream but it’s fine I’m not 6. I’m just overreacting.”
“Y/n, if it’s keeping you up then you’re not overreacting. It’s okay. Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.
You took a small breath before asking. “Do you really think I’ll do well today?”
He looked at you and shook his head. “Without a doubt.”
You looked down at your hands. “You’re not just saying that right?” you mumbled.
“What?” he asked, hoping he had heard you wrong.
“You just… You’re my coach. And my dad. You’re kind of obligated to tell me that I’m doing a good job. You’re not supposed to tell me if you think I’m worthless as a student. But you're an olympic medalist so I’m asking, unbiased opinion, if you had never met me before would that still be true?”
“Of course. y/n - where is this coming from?”
“I don’t know, I just - the way you coach is through criticism. You push those who have the most potential the hardest, I know that. But sometimes I just wonder if I’m actually doing a good job. Sometimes I just feel like you’re coaching me because I’m your daughter I guess. I just -” you took a small breath as a few tears started to fall. “In my dream I - I messed up my routine and you were so mad and disappointed and...I don’t know.” you looked up at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be. And I just really wanted to make you proud and hear that I did well from you. But that’s not the way you coach and I understand that and I just wanted to know if the criticisms are because you see potential or you feel obligated to coach me.”
Lance felt his heart drop to his stomach. Yes, criticism was his style of coaching but you had always taken well to it. Or so he had thought. You had pushed yourself when you were criticised, you loved to prove all the petty remarks wrong. But seeing you crying in the middle of the night over whether or not he was proud of you - it broke his heart.
He had two jobs - being your coach and being your father. But he was your father first. He knew that, but apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job at making sure you knew it too.
“Y/n,” he said your name simply before you started crying and he brought you into a hug despite the awkward positioning. He rubbed a hand up and down your back and pulled back to look at you. “I have never been more proud of anyone in my life. But not just because you're my best student - but because of how you carry yourself. You are going to do amazing at this competition, and even if you don’t, that doesn’t matter. You could quit right now and that wouldn’t change a damn thing. I am, and have always been, so fucking proud of you. I’m sorry I haven’t done a good enough job making sure you knew that.”
You laughed a little, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you tried to wipe them away. “Fucking tears,” you said.
“Hey, don’t swear, it’s fucking rude.” he said seriously before you both started laughing.
“Seriously, y/n. I am so proud of you. Nothing could ever change that.”
You smiled softly. “Thanks dad. Sorry for getting all worked up over nothing, I know you hate this kind of shit.”
“Don’t apologize for your emotions. You can’t control them, no one can,” he smiled at you.
“Try to get some more rest y/n. Even though you’re gonna beat their asses you can’t do it if you’re exhausted.” he winked at you before standing up.
“I love you dad.” you said softly.
‘Love you too. Get some sleep.”
37 notes · View notes
omg hi, just wanted to fangirl and say that i’m such a sucker for your writing, always waiting on an update!!
Omg HIIIIII HELLO!!!!!! You fangirl over ME?! I fangirl over YOU bestie!!!!!! Thank you so much for the kind words, updates should be coming within the next couple of days!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
2 notes · View notes
Hi there holy CRAP I got so many requests and kind messages in my ask box last night, thank you guys so so much I’m truly overwhelmed with all the support you all have given me.
I am working on those requests as best (and fast) that I can!
I NEVER thought I’d have anywhere CLOSE to this amount of followers ever for my writing it truly makes me honored whenever I hear that my writing has helped someone because that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do!
Stay tuned, I’m working on those requests! I’m working as best that I can!
3 notes · View notes
Wish me luck I’m running a 5K at 7 AM and then pulling a double shift at work 😅
For now, a few WIPS:
Coach!Lance tucker x daughter!Gymnast!reader - comfort for a nightmare. (He was your coach. But he was your father first)
Bucky x reader - comfort for being a highly sensitive person (you’re emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.)
Bucky x reader - comfort for using work as a distraction. (“When I’m at work I’m not trapped in my head. Either way I’m tired. At least this way I’m getting paid”)
I want to again apologize for the lack of content. I am trying my best. I work almost every day and sometimes I do double shifts. I appreciate all the patience and support I have received and for all the new tumblr friends I have made. Thank you all for being so amazing!
5 notes · View notes
Oh my god I love this so so so so much my HEART IS FULL
Hide & Seek
Summary: Bucky wakes up to his favorite things in the world. His sons and you.
Pairing: Dad!Bucky x reader
A/N: unbeta'd, Ill edit later. Don't copy, or repost but I'll appreciate likes comments and reblogs.
Hushed giggles and pattering of mall feet wake Bucky from his nap. He blinks slowly, shielding his eyes from the soft golden rays streaming through the swaying living room curtains. He touches his chest with a smile, knowing you must have taken the baby when he fell asleep.
The last thing he remembers is watching his babbling newborn stretch his chubby arms before yawning in his face.
Bucky’s enhanced hearing picks up more giggling. Closer and louder. Little voices whispering. A flash of orange darting across the hallway catches his attention.
Rubbing the drool stain on his henley, Bucky lolls his head to the side. His oldest son skids to a stop, his lively eyes widening comically before he gasps and runs away.
“What?” Bucky chuckles, scrubbing his hand down his face.
He sits up when he sees you saunter around the corner, his blue eyes brightening as you make your way towards him. “Hey, honey.”
“I missed you.” Bucky grabs your hips the second you’re within reach, pulling you on his lap.
Looping your arm around his neck, you chuckle, “Bucky, you were asleep for ten minutes, how could-.”
He cups your face, gazing at you with such awe and love that your breath hitches and your heart races. No matter how many times he gives you that look, you’ll never get used to it.
“I love you.” He murmurs, his hand moving up your thigh to your waist, soft lips brushing over yours until your own parts and his tongue slides in your mouth. Sliding your hands in his soft, short chestnut locks, you bring him closer, the kiss deepening as he slants his head. He’s always so eager to have a taste of your lips.
“He got mommy. Leave her. We gotta go,” your son whispers loudly to his brother, small feet slapping on the floors as they run into the kitchen. “Go, go, go.”
You break away, resting your forehead on his, laughing, “right, almost forget, you’re playing hide and seek with our boys.”
“What?” Bucky repeats for the second time in five minutes. His curious blue eyes sweeping across the open living room, he spots his eldest hiding under the chair, and his middle child peeking at him from under the sink.
You nod, patting his chest. “And you’re losing.”
Bucky tilts his head, “I am?”
"Yep.” You stand up and back away, giving him a playful look. “There’s five minutes left and if you don’t find them, you’re taking us out for pizza.”
You both grin when you hear a chorus of yeahs erupt from the ‘hiding spots'.
Bucky stretches his arms over his head, rising to his feet. “What do I get if I win?”
“If you win, we take you out for pizza.” You lean whispering that it was your son’s idea of course.
He places a warm kiss on your lips, happily sighing. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he wanted to, these are the moments he lives for now. Bucky will never understand how he got so lucky to have you and his boys but he’s going to cherish every minute of his life with you.
Bucky saunters in the kitchen, stomping loudly around the table, pretending that he cant see his colorful shirt sticking out. Your son scoots back, holding his hand over his mouth, squealing as Bucky gets closer.
You sit on the coffee table and watch as your supersoldier opens and closes the cabinets, loudly calling your sons names.
“Are you in here?” He shouts, opening the fridge. You wave at your boys, gesturing for them to run. Bucky keeps his head down, waiting for them to flee the kitchen before turning around.
They hide behind you, giggling into your back.
“Where are they?” He asks.
“Who?” You shrug, you look back at their happy faces, a perfect combination of you and Bucky staring up at you. “It’s just me.”
“Alright, guess I’ll go look upstairs.” He replies slowly, stomping down the hall.
They slink out when they think he’s gone. For a brief second, your house is quiet.
Then Bucky springs out from the hallway and chaos erupts around you.
They scream running around the living room as your husband chases them. Bucky pretends to stumble and miss each time he gets close enough to grab them.
You’re almost in tears from laughing so hard. After a few minutes, you announce that they’ve won. Bucky holds his hands up in defeat, letting them tackle him to the ground. The room filled with chants of pizza as they jump and climb on him.
You join them on the rug, poking your oldest in his belly. “So what’s this about leaving me behind huh?”
He looks at you, his toothy grin matching Buckys. “Had to. Daddy told Uncle Sammy that you can’t handle-”
“Who wants pizza?” Bucky interrupts, plucking the boys off the floor, using them as shields as he backs out of the room. “Love you, doll.”
You smirk, arms folded across your chest as you watch your husband run from you, “Love you too Bucky.”
2K notes · View notes
I might start writing more drabbles because I started working every day and get home at midnight
I don’t do a lot of about me updates but I just got my first job in 2 years. I’m just working at a local mom and pop restaurant trying to save for next semester. I work as often as they’ll let me and with everything that’s happened the past year they have ✨no one✨ so I’m there most days. That and I’ve been going through a few personal issues that I don’t need to bring y’all into.
I apologize that I’ve been slow. I know I said I’d be around more and I apologize that I wasn’t able to stay true to my word.
I have a few ideas but making entire fics has been hard. I have some ideas for headcanons and drabbles but I’ve never done it so I’m not sure if anyone would be interested.
I appreciate every single one of you. I know I’ve gotten quite a few new followers the past few days and WELCOME I LOVE YOU ALL! You truly don’t know how much I genuinely appreciate all of you, especially for sticking with me through everything. I haven’t even been here for a year yet I feel so welcomed and supported. So truly, thank you. I just thought you all deserved an explanation as to why I haven’t been posting much. ❤️❤️❤️
6 notes · View notes
Haha sorry my bad don’t worry about it
Why is this something I would say?
@stucky-on-spiderman @thatfangirl42 @thanksforallthesushi
You're being murdered. You look the killer in the eye & your last words are the last text you sent:
8K notes · View notes
Thanks for the tag @stucky-on-spiderman !!
For part two of a Bucky fic:
“Now all he could hope for is that you would take him back”
Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thanksforallthesushi
Share the last line you wrote of your WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence. Thanks for the tag @cockslut-padalecki 💛
From Ammunition chapter 6:
“Party’s over,” she said softly.
Tagging @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @kellyn1604 @boop-le-snoot @mostly-marvel-musings @daddymenrah ⭐️
270 notes · View notes
My soul has been 86’d
Are you available?
No sold out
60K notes · View notes
Reason to come back (Part 2)
Bucky Barnes x reader
Word count: 2172
Summary: You debate whether or not you want to give your relationship with Bucky another chance
Warnings: more angst (ish?), tension, doubt, slight talk of violence, tfatws spoilers (not huge plot points just Sarah), changing POV’s
Tag list: @barnesplums @buckys2thicc @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @buckfics @freigeistundanderes @thatfangirl42 @bucks-bunny @fghi23 @strawberrimae @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing @babydaddy-buckybarnes @babyboibucky @midnightbabylon @osterfieldshollandgirl
A/N: Ok yeah so this is gonna be a series. It has been decided. I’m already working on a 3rd part!
Main Masterlist Add yourself to my taglist!
Time was an interesting concept. It went by fast when you were doing something you loved, yet seemed to drag when you were doing something you hated. When Sebastian had first left, time had seemed to stop completely, and when he had left that day, it had been all too soon.
There were also different standards for time. 4 hours is a long time to do any activity awake, yet only having 4 hours of sleep is far too little. When someone says I’ll talk to you soon, it depends on who you’re talking to as to what soon means. If it’s a coworker it might be a day. If it’s a friend it might depend on work. Family might be longer, stretching out to every few weeks or even just on important holidays. There was no set time schedule for social interactions.
So when a month had passed since you’d told Bucky you needed more time, you didn’t know how to feel.
You kept turning the idea over and over again in your head, whether you wanted to try again, mend your relationship, start over with him, or move on and start over with someone else. You just didn’t know. You still missed him but it wasn’t as bad this time. He had come back and you were the one to push him away this time.
Did that make you a bad person?
You shook your head. He hurt you and you were giving yourself a chance to process it before jumping back into a relationship with him.
You hadn’t realized how much he had hurt you. You didn’t realize how much of an effect he had on you until he had showed up again and you immediately felt better even though the last time you had seen him he had broken your heart. You didn’t know why you went from resenting him and being emotional to wanting to let him right back in with that goodbye hug.
You wanted that comfort, that safety you had felt while you were with him. But you also wanted to stand your ground. You didn’t want to break your heart again. But you couldn’t deny it
You missed him.
With every day that passed he felt less hope that you would ever take him back. You had said you needed time and he could respect that. But a month had come and gone and he hadn’t heard from you at all. He really thought that that day when you had hugged him that there could be a chance. Maybe he could redeem himself. But the more time went on, he worried that he had lost the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him
He had wanted to ask Sam for some advice, but he also knew Sam would never let him live this down. He would make sure that Bucky was aware of just how much of an asshole he was.
Bucky was already well aware of how much of an asshole he was.
He would check his phone every text and call that he had gotten (which, wasn’t that many), sad to see it was just Sam checking in every so often. He wanted to reach out to you, typing out messages that he never sent. You had asked for more time. This was about you. You would reach out to him when you wanted to.
If you wanted to.
And the more time passed, the less hopeful Bucky was that he would ever get the chance to make it up to you.
You felt at war with yourself. You wanted to cut your losses, move on from what had happened, yet anytime you thought about Bucky you felt a tug at your heartstrings. You wanted to give him another chance. He had said he was sorry, he had his reasonings, he just wanted to protect you. The way he did it was wrong, but he was human. Humans are allowed to make mistakes.
But where does one draw the line? When does a mistake become a deal-breaker?
You had reached out to one of your friends, asking for advice. They were surprised, although happy, to have you text them for the first time in weeks. You had even agreed to talk over coffee one day. You wanted another perspective, your own becoming too confused between what you wanted and what you thought you should want.
You had told them how the original situation had went. You had never told them what had happened initially, only that you and Bucky had split up. So now, retelling the story, you found yourself going back and forth.
“So he seriously just left without trying to talk it out with you?” they asked.
“Well, yeah, but he had his reasons. When he came back he told me he was worried about me getting hurt and something that had happened with Sam’s sister. I mean I get it, that sort of thing is hard to talk about.”
“Harder than leaving you completely?”
You paused for a moment. “Well...I don’t know, but he came back. That means something right?”
“Yeah, I think it means something but it took him weeks to come back to you. He didn’t try to talk to you any sooner.”
“But he did come back,” you whispered as you looked down at your coffee.
“You seem to have made up your mind. Why do you need my advice?” they asked you.
“I just… you don’t think it’s wrong for me to give this another shot do you? I dunno, I just keep going back and forth in my head with what happened and if it’s wrong for me to give him a second chance. I miss him so much, I’m angry with what he did but he apologized. But the first time he left seemed so easy for him, I just worry that he’ll leave again. Like...did he miss me or the idea of me?”
“Y/n, I’m not trying to turn you away from Bucky. I don’t think it’s wrong at all for you to miss him or want to give him a second chance. The two of you seemed really happy together, and I want you to be happy. But when he left you just disappeared. I don’t want him to hurt you like that again.”
You sat there for a moment. “If I were in his shoes, I would want a second chance.”
“But you would never leave someone the way that he left you.”
“That’s what you think,” you said, meeting their eyes. “That’s what I thought about Bucky too. People aren’t always predictable. And I don’t know that I wouldn’t have done the same thing.”
Your friend nodded. “So call him and tell him that. But make sure you establish boundaries with him. I can’t tell you what they should be but you should have them.”
You nodded, taking the last sip of your drink. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I’m just glad to see you join society again,” they said with a laugh. “Seriously. I missed you.”
You offered a small smile. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I just left like I did.”
“Don’t be. Just don’t do it again,” they joked.
The two of you said your goodbye’s, and you realized that what you had done to your friends wasn’t all that different from what Bucky did to you. You didn’t leave completely, but you might as well have. One day you just stopped interacting with them without any sort of genuine explanation. How was that any better than what Bucky had done to you?
You weren’t sure if that made what Bucky had done more forgivable, or if you had made the same horrible decision that Bucky had. Did your friend resent you at any point? And if they were so forgiving, couldn’t you be too?
Everyone made mistakes. Everyone had different reactions. That was what made life so complicated and messy - everyone went through it and experienced it much differently. What made one person happy could make someone else angry. One person’s gain was another person’s loss. A deal-breaker for one person could be no big deal for someone else.
There was no way that a person should react to anything. So why were you so caught up on whether or not you should give Bucky another chance? You wanted to talk to him, maybe try starting over. That was what you wanted. Why did anything else matter?
You pulled out your phone and went to your contacts, typing out a quick message to Bucky and took a deep breath before you sent it.
Hey, can we talk?
Bucky was going about his morning just like any other. He was in his small apartment, still waking up. He had his cheap black instant coffee, leaning against the counter in his otherwise bare apartment. There were 2 chairs and not much more. You had teased him for not having any furniture, which practically turned into you begging him to provide himself with the smallest bit of comfort. At least a couch, something, anything.
The two of you had settled on him staying at your place. He didn’t have to pay for furniture and he was closer to you. It was a win-win situation. But he had pushed you away, landing him back in his apartment where the most comfort he could find was sleeping on the floor with a blanket.
He didn’t have you to make him feel safe anymore.
Not that he could complain. You weren’t the one who left.
He heard his phone buzz with a new text notification, which he decided to ignore. It was probably just another text from Sam, which could wait a few minutes. He was in no rush to fake an answer to another how is everything message.
He finished his coffee, placing the mug in the sink and pulling his phone out of his pocket to see a new message come in, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.
Hey, can we talk?
He straightened up and nearly dropped his phone, quickly sending a message back.
Yeah of course. Over the phone or do you want me to come over?
He watched as the read receipt popped up on his phone, waiting for your response.
I’d rather have this conversation in person. Can you come over tonight?
Sounds great, I’ll be there.
He sent it and then wondered if he had sounded too eager. What if she wanted to tell him that she was done and didn’t want to say it over text? That was the appropriate thing to do wasn’t it? To break the news to someone in person, to give them some sort of explanation.
It was why he had waited until he came back to tell you rather than retreat to his apartment in the first place. It was the most respectful way to have that sort of conversation. Bucky cringed internally. Not that he had even had that conversation with you to begin with.
He really did mean to tell you why he left that first night. He wanted to tell you that he was worried about bringing you into everything and putting you in danger. When Sarah, Sam’s sister, had gotten that call with a threat Bucky couldn’t help but think about how that could’ve easily been a phone call to you. He had waited for you to call him terrified that night, wondering what Bucky had gotten himself into.
That was the problem though - you’d worry about Bucky’s safety more than your own, even though you were the one being threatened.
Bucky had never cared about anyone so much before, not since the 40′’s when he was protecting Steve before he had gotten the serum. He had needed protecting, otherwise he would’ve gotten beaten to death in some back alley. But with you, Bucky was protecting you because he didn’t know what he was going to do if he lost you.
Nothing had happened to Sarah. But there would always be another mission, and he couldn’t guarantee that that would’ve always been the case. Bucky really had meant to tell you that he just wanted to protect you. But that was the problem.
You would’ve talked him out of it.
If he had told you that he wanted to leave you to protect you, you would’ve had none of it. You knew the risks and you could hold your own, you didn’t want protection. Bucky knew that you wouldn’t have cared if you had gotten hurt as long as you stayed with him. And he knew that if he started that conversation, if he had stayed there any longer, he would’ve gone back on his decision.
He couldn’t lose you, so he cut you loose.
He never wanted to leave you. But it was better than having you taken from him.
Now he could only hope that you’d take him back.
21 notes · View notes