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many-gay-magpies · 4 years ago

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Smh i should really stop talking to my mom about anxiety/mental stuff because every time it only makes me feel worse

I love my mom a lot but like . sometimes there are just things that get on my nerves even though i love her. I kinda feel bad because like she tries so hard to understand and says she understands and I know she DOES to a degree so I feel bad for lowkey thinking like the whiny teenager all like "yOu DoN't UnDeRsTaNd Me" sometimes, y'know? Like the bottom line is our brains just work really really differently a lot of the time and she either wants to believe or genuinely believes that they dont

Every time I talk to her about my (non-clinical, probably) anxiety and what caused it (this girl bullying me for six years) she goes on to mention all the ways she was bullied as a kid and all the terrible shit she's gone through to say in the end "so I understand" when like all of that shit is way different from my experience so every time she says it inside I'm just like "yes but actually no"

Like, today i was talking about my bully to her and how I've started realizing that all my responses now are responses i was forced to give as a kid because of the situation i was in with my bully, and she went in depth and told me (all stuff she had already told me about before and also when i had been talking about my anxiety stuffs before) about how her mom forced her to sleep in curlers so she would have banana curls and made her wear dresses and how she got mugged really bad when she was older and all this stuff that is very valid trauma and sucks ass and i thank her for trying to understand me but at the same time all the shit that happened to her was surface level. Neither of us could control what was happening to us, because her mom made her dress like that and I couldn't just make this girl suddenly not have issues, but like a dress is still something you can change??? Take off??? Like it isnt attatched to you as a person. I cant change the fact that i exist, which this girl bullying me apparently hated me for. To her my existence was just like "oh i must hurt this person" not because of what i wore, what i looked like, etc etc.

She also kept subtly bringing up the fact that i had never been PHYSICALLY hurt by my bully and implying that because she HAD her pain was worse and i could have had it worse if my bully physically hurt me and ACTED on the threats to hurt me (which my mom's bullies did) and while yes that was true . My bully didn't threaten to physically hurt me at all so there were no threats TO act on she just talked to me like i was shit all the time and beat my self esteem about my personality into a meaningless pulp . I kind of wanted to scream in my moms face "YOUR PAIN WAS MOSTLY PHYSICAL WHILE MINE WAS EMOTIONAL, BOTH ARE VALID AND DIFFERENT" but i know she does know that-- but maybe it would have gotten the point across idk

I wish so badly that i could just tell my mom "I dont want/need you to understand, i just need you to be here" and like i could but . I'm not there yet

(Warning ahead, I'm sorry if this gets really long but like I wanna get it off my chest before i go to sleep bcs i feel like ill sleep better if i do)

Another thing that annoys me is that??? Every time??? I say something??? Or tell her how I'm feeling at the moment??? She just asks me??? "Why?"??? And yes its good to talk about stuff but I'm trying to explain to you in a polite way why i want to leave the conversation and that its making me uncomfortable and i just want to go to bed and you just go "but why are you uncomfortable?" Or like if i tell her I'm upset and i want to stop talking about it she goes "why are you upset? I dont want you to be upset" and I'm just. I literally just said i dont want to talk about this anymore can i please leave you cant control that I'm upset about this because continuing talking to you is just going to make me more upset because no matter what way i try to explain it i cant get my points across right to you and i dont want to say you dont understand bcs thats immature but you kind of dont understand

I want to tell her "This conversation isnt having the outcome i wanted it to have and i want to leave it before it makes me more upset so that i can go think on it for later" but I'm sure if i do. that shed just go "but WHY arent you happy with the conversation tell me so i can fix it" and if i tell her blatantly what is making me unhappy (the fact that she keeps saying she understands and pouring stories of her traumas onto me to "prove" that she understands) then she's going to guilt trip me when were talking in the future by emphasizing the fact that i dont like when she talks a certain way and be all like "oh i wont tell you about my OWN experiences though because you said you don't LIKE when I DO that" and i just hhhhhh

Like every time i tell her she doesnt understand and try to explain it in a way that she WILL and it'll finally click it just. Doesn't and it makes me feel so defeated because every time i do that she just circles back around to "well i experienced all these types of trauma so i totally understand" and i appreciate the effort but that just isnt the kind of support i needed to make me feel content

And also when i was talking to her tonight i told her about a specific instance that happened in like 1rst or 4th grade where I was crying because the girl bullying me was just in one of those. Bad Moods™ where like she hated me for existing and talked to me like i was a piece of trash she had stepped in or smth and then she and a couple other kids asked me WHY I WAS CRYING and I didn't want to tell her "hey I'm crying because you keep hurting me and i dont want you to" because if i said that she would just hurt me MORE so i made up a lie on the spot and said that my parents had a small argument (I'm a sensitive kid and will cry at the barest hint of conflict between my parents so it checked out) and i was crying because of it and . Out of that ENTIRE STORY the one thing my mom zeroed in on was the fact that i told a lie that "painted my parents in a bad light"

Just. Like. Yeah. It did. But I wasn't even thinking about that at the moment?? Like it didn't even cross my mind??? The only thing i was thinking about was that i was scared and in danger and i probably would have said anything to get OUT of that danger (as fake or ill-perceived it might have been). But no, even later on after i had explained that in basically those exact words she still went back around to say "oh if it was bad enough that you told a lie about your parents to get out of it then she REALLY fucked you up"

Which??? By the way??? Is a whole other reason why i try not to talk to my mom about this shit??? Because every time i open up about it and want to have a conversation in a more logical/organized/"well here's the situation and here's what we can do about it" kind of way she always turns it around and says stuff like "damn [REDACTED] really fucked you up didn't she" and "I didn't know it was that bad"/"I didn't know it effected you that bad, you should have said something!" which. Makes me Feel Bad™, for some reason way more than my dad excitedly talking about reptile and monkey brains and how stuff that happened to us in the past is engrained into our brain and still effects us now, like instinct

She also always turns all of my stuff talking about emotions into "oh you're just a teenager" "you're pms'ing" "you'll grow out of it later"

Like one time i told her that her mind was always in the past or the future, always worrying about the past or the future, never in the present, in response to her worrying a bunch about something and how i had my mind in the present more often and her response was something along the lines of "well you're like that because you're young and a teenager, you CAN stay thinking in the present because you dont have all that stuff to worry about like an adult does, I'm an adult and i work a bunch so i constantly have stuff to worry about" and like. Yeah theres some solidity to that. But also i literally talked about that exact thing with my dad and HE said her brain was always in the past/future and never the present so I'm pretty sure its not just a teen vs adult thing

And then towards the end of this whole thing when i had finally managed to tell her "hey I'm uncomfortable in this conversation can i please leave and go to bed" and even further explained that it was because i went into this wanting to have a more casual/logic-based talk rather than an emotional discussion and . she's kind of of the mind that "why did you bring it up if you didn't want to have a deep emotional discussion about it" and I'm just HHHNNNNGGGG but also i actually DIDNT mention it, first i was mentioning how id been having sensory overload lately and how certain sounds of words hurt and then she said i should have a doctor check that out and then i said "I've been reading up on anxiety and sensory overload is a part of that so i figured that's just what it was" (bcs my dad gets sensory overload a lot too) which then ensued a ten-minute conversation about how i probably dont have clinical anxiety because mine isnt as bad as/like all the many, many people my mom has known who DO have it (throughout which i kept trying to tell her "just social anxiety exists too tho" to which she would respond "yea but u dont have these symptoms of general anxiety so i dont think u have it" and while i hope and think i dont i was just like HHHHHHH because i mean social anxiety and by social anxiety I DO NOT MEAN GENERAL ANXIETY YOU CAN HAVE SOCIAL ANXIETY WITHOUT HAVING GENERAL at least i think idk i might be wrong) which i ended by saying "i probably dont have clinical anxiety but i do believe my brain has been wired to react to certain situations based on how i had to react to those situations for six years" which then lead to me talking more about my bully and my mom pretty much siphoning as much emotional vulnerability and opening up out of me as she could

And then at the end i told her "can i please leave i kind of feel like crying and i dont want to do it in front of a person at the moment" (because I haven't cried in a few months and i feel like I'm in need of a good cry tbh which in itself is something she doesnt really understand) which lead her to go "why do you feel like crying now I'm worried for you" and HHHHHHEBDJBEHNDEJHBDNEHDBEH yeah--

There's probably more i could say but I'm not going to, because its almost 1 am and while i had actually been about to sleep early at like ten she ended up roping me into an hour or two long talk about emotions, which is. Fun. And i have to get up in six hours so I'm going to go to bed. Sorry if this was a mess which I'm sure it is, i really just needed to get this out there lol

Also when i went to my dad after this to say goodnight (i actually like talking to my dad abt this stuff a lot since his brain and mine are just really similar) he gave me this lil smile and just said "deep breaths" and that made me feel better

#magpie thoughts #and at the end she started doing that thing where she acts silly to try and make me happy and not feel like crying which is a good sentiment #but like i WANTED to cry tonight and now im not in the mood anymore #magpie rants

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wintersxsoul · 6 years ago

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The Night We Danced

Summary: Two dorks in love that have to wait to get drunk to confess their feelings.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Maybe some language, drunk people and I think mentions of sex??

A/N: This is my entry for my dearest @writingsoftheloser 1k historical writing challenge! I got the Victorian Era, so I came up with this longass nonsense. I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback and reblogs are free and make me really happy and motivated <3

Bucky Barnes was a dancer.

He sometimes had flashes of his old life in the late 30’s and 40’s, long summer nights dancing with beautiful dames, little Stevie by his side laughing and stepping in the ladies’ shoes. Everything was much more simpler, happier, but war happened and the dances turned into battles, the warm hands that he was used to hold became rifles and glocks. The jazzy tunes turned into gunfire, dates turned into risky missions and the thought of a long happy life turned into dust when he fell off that train.

Bucky Barnes stopped being a dancer to be a soldier, a spy, a deadly assassin.

They had taken all he was away, all his memories, his hopes and dreams. Everything was wiped but not his motor skills or knowledge. They turned him into the most efficient soldier, cold and calculating, his only motive in life was completing his missions. He had killed mercilessly, not questioning even once who was in front of the gun, he just knew he had to pull the trigger.

Everything changed the moment Steve Rogers, his best friend since childhood, found him 70 years after being used and tortured. Steve saved him from the claws of Hydra and gave him the opportunity to gain back his own self, to finally give his life meaning again.

His life changed drastically when he joined the Avengers, he could use his unrequired skills to help people, to save lives. He had his closest friends, Steve of course, Sam, Nat and then he met you. Once he was able to recover almost all his memories, he had a long heartfelt conversation with Natasha since she had suffered in similar ways. The brainwashing, the body killing training, the horrors of the Cold War and the cruelty of the Red Room.

You and Nat were inseparable, both becoming SHIELD agents the same year. You were a freelance hitwoman, both of your missions were to kill the same target. But before you could kill each other, SHIELD stepped in and rescued both of you, seeing your potential and the ability to do the missions other agents weren’t able to. When Bucky first came to the compound, you were away because your last mission went badly and it almost killed you, so Fury and Steve decided it was better for you to lay low for a while. Months went by and Bucky’s curiosity only grew, he really wanted to meet you, since everyone talked about you like you were an angel. When the time came to finally meet you, everything he ever heard about you was not nearly accurate to him. You were as much of a mystery as Nat, but unlike her, you opened up to him fastly, trusting him blindly. You both held each other on your worst nights and were also there for the other when you needed a good laugh.

You could have never imagined that the infamous Winter Soldier could be such an absolute dork with such a pure heart and soul. At first he was a bit sulky and moody, he was like a ghost around the compound, but months of therapy and help from his friends turned him into the man he was today, the man you loved deeply, even though you lied to yourself trying to make it seem like a platonic feeling. For years you remained as best friends, until the masquerade ball Tony organized for Natasha’s birthday.

“So, what are your plans for the party?” You asked Bucky nonchalantly while you looked for costume designers online. He looked up from his book and shrugged, he really didn’t know what you meant but he knew you would elaborate. You closed your laptop and placed it on your nightstand, all your attention on your friend now. You laid across the bed, resting your head on his lap. You were staring at the ceiling so you totally missed Bucky’s adoring gaze.

“Well, apart from getting hammered with Thor’s Asgardian alcohol, I don’t really know.” You rolled your eyes internally at his comment. You laid on your stomach so you could face him, your chin resting on your hands on top of his chest.

“Obviously you are doing that, but it’s not what I meant.” Bucky chuckled and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure about asking him to be your partner, maybe he was planning on going with someone else, maybe he wanted to go on his own. You cleared your throat while reaching out to fiddle with the laces of his hoodie nervously.

“Are you going with someone?” He frowned, realizing that you didn’t assume (like he did) that you were going together. Maybe you were planning to go with a date? He knew it had been more than a year since you had dated someone so maybe you wanted to use the party as an excuse to do so?

“What you mean with someone? I d-”

“You should ask Sarah from Forensics, I’ve heard she has a huge crush on you. She’s sooo soft and pretty. I have her number if you wa-”

“Okay, Y/n stop right there. I am not going with Sarah or with anyone else but you.” His eyes widened at his own boldness but he quickly found a logical explanation.

“I mean, we always go together to this kind of shitty parties we both dread. But if you are going with someone else is fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I just thought that maybe you wanted to go with an actual date and not your best friend.” He tousled your hair and you whined jokingly. He mumbled “dork” and you stuck your tongue out.

“My best friend is pretty cool and when she gets drunk the party starts, so I am not missing that for Sarah from Forensics.”

“Oh god James, and I am the dork? You absolute dumbass.” You shook your head in amusement and sat on the bed, putting your disheveled hair in a low ponytail. You slapped him lightly on the right shoulder and got down of the bed, gathering your stuff.

“I can’t stand to see that beautiful stupid face right now, I have to look for a fucking dress. You better wear something in dark red cause, you know it-”

“it’s my color” he mocked you using a high pitched tone of voice and laughed at the face of disgust you jokingly pulled off.

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you f-” His sentence was cut off by the bang of his door closing but you already knew what he said. You rolled your eyes and made your way to Nat’s room since you needed to organize shopping days and all that stuff.

Bucky Barnes was a dancer and fortunately he still had some moves, but waltzing was out of his league. He knew what a masquerade was of course, so the fact that he had to learn how to dance a completely different style was...frightening to say the least. He talked about it with Steve so they both were headed now to a masterclass while their dates were out shopping. Nat had asked Steve as her date because she wanted to go with his best friend. Their friendship was the most platonic you’ve ever seen and watching them flirt and banter was the highlight of your days. Nat was a fantastic dancer of course, she used to be a fucking ballerina, so she offered to teach you some moves. She was the only one who actually knew your feelings towards Bucky because you had confessed them one night you had drank your weight in vodka and when you saw Bucky’s text asking you to please be careful, you laughed and told her. You didn’t remember that conversation and when Natasha tried to ask you, she realized she shouldn’t bring up the topic until you were ready to believe it yourself.

“Ooof Nat, should I really buy this expensive dress?” You asked her while checking yourself out in the mirror. The dress was absolutely stunning, made of a dark red taffeta or a similar material, short sleeved and a beautiful v-neck, not very revealing but enough to make your babies pop. The bodice hugged your curves and the skirt was puffy.

“Listen, Stark is paying for everything, that includes our dresses. So yes, you are going to buy it.” She stood up and lead you back to the changing room so she could purchase both of your dresses.

Steve sighed heavily at Bucky’s complaints. They’d been dancing for four hours straight and they weren’t getting any better, or at least that’s what they thought. Bucky really couldn’t believe he had been dragged into this mess just because he loved getting drunk with you under any circumstances.

“Come on Buck, don’t worry. You two will probably be too drunk to even stand, why bother so much in learning this shit?” Bucky rolled his eyes and nudged his friend on the shoulder.

“Listen pal, I wanna do this right. You know how much I love dancing so this is just an excuse to learn something new.” He could almost believe his own lie, but Steve knew better. He knew Bucky better than himself, so he obviously knew the unspoken thing that was going on between two of his best friends.

“Okay buddy, whatever you say. I just hope Y/n appreciates all this instead of laughing at you like Sam and Nat are probably going to do.” He muttered something to himself and left the room without saying a word.

“Fucking idiots, I hope they fuck soon.” Steve said to himself before turning around and smiling at the dance teacher.

“Let’s do this Janet, I have a very dangerous woman to impress tonight.”

“I really, really, really, really regret the day I gave you access to come into my room whenever you want to.” You told Bucky, who was laying on your bed on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows. You slumped next to him and buried your face in the pillows as well. You really thought you looked like idiots but you couldn’t care less.

“Can we stay here? We can watch one of those victorian romantic movies you love and get wasted on our own.”

“You know I would love to, but Nat would kill us. Besides, you hate those movies.”

“I was just trying to persuade you Barnes, you don’t need to be so rude.” You stood up and opened your first drawer, pulling out the two masks you had bought throwing Bucky’s to his head and he responded with a fake “ouch”. He sat on the bed and looked at you amused, the small mask in his hands.

“And you have the nerve to call me rude. I already have my mask and I won’t show it to you until tonight.”

“Wow, sorry for thinking about you and your shitty memory, old man.”

“You know what Y/n? I’ll see you tonight before I throw myself out of that balcony.” You giggled at his fake tantrum. You really loved your friendship with Bucky, because even though you were always joking around each other, you had your backs. He was always there and so were you.

“You want me to walk you to your room?” He frowned at you but his eyes widened when he realized what you were about to say, but you said it before he could cut you off. “In case you don’t remember where your room is at.”

“That was one time Y/n, please let it go.”

“Never.” And with that said, he left. You giggled remembering the first night you two got drunk together. It was the first time Bucky had tried Thor’s alcohol so he was excited to finally get drunk after all those decades. He drank by himself almost three flasks and encouraged you to drink a bottle of vodka on your own, so at 6 am, you were stumbling through your room floor because Bucky had forgotten where his own room was, so he wanted to sleep at yours.

You took a last look at yourself in your mirror and placed the mask in its place. It was a shame that Bucky had decided not to wear the mask you’d bought for him, but his taste was pretty great so you knew it was going to be amazing.

When you reached the party the place was already full of people. Everyone was dancing to the slow melodies or drinking at the bar. You noticed that Tony had removed all the furniture from the room so it looked like a grand dance hall, the usual modern lamps he owned were replaced by huge golden crystal chandeliers, the windows were covered by thick curtains that looked like the ones European palaces had. The cream and golden tones of all the decoration gave a really regal look to the party, the soft glow of the candles in the bar and the sound of champagne glasses relaxed your senses.

You fixed your long silk gloves and sighed, moving through the crowd towards the bar, where Nat stood chatting with who you assumed it was Steve, Sam was behind the counter pouring alcohol to his half empty glass.

“You mind filling this lady’s glass?” Sam smirked and you winked at him. He raised his eyebrow under his cream and red mask and he took out a tall glass.

“What would the lady like to drink?” He rested both of his palms in the counter, looking at you with an amused look in his eyes.

“Vodka on the rocks, s'il vous plait.” You heard Nat choke on her drink and Steve turned to look at you while Sam just poured your drink, a smile playing on his lips.

“Aren’t we starting a bit early, Y/n? Your date is not even here.” You shrugged at Sam’s comment and took the glass when he handed it.

“Since you all seemed so surprised with my drinking choices, I’m going. I need an unjudging friend right now.” You waved your hand gracefully and moved towards the centre, trying to find Bucky. After five minutes and an empty glass, you saw his bulking figure talking to some woman. You needed a moment to gather your thoughts because he looked absolutely sinful with the outfit he was wearing. The black pants marked all his muscles, specially his thighs, those fucking thighs that drove you insane and his ass...you shook your head trying to stop your mind. You needed another drink.

“Wow look who’s back and empty handed!” Steve said to the small group. You nudged him in the ribs and asked Sam for another glass of alcohol.

“Why are you this flustered Y/n?” Nat asked you when she noticed your flushed cheeks. You fixed your mask trying to hide your nervousness and failing miserably.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your three friends shared a knowing look and you rolled your eyes, finishing your drink in two sips and encouraged by the burning liquid, you went to where Bucky was. You could now see his whole outfit perfectly and your heart swelled. He was wearing a black ruffled shirt with a black and dark red embroidered vest and a black tail coat. His face was covered by a simple half Venetian mask, decorated with the same colors as the outfit’s. He was chatting with some agent you couldn’t recognize and you felt a pang of jealousy at how he was looking at her, smiling and touching her. At that moment you realized the alcohol was kicking in and that’s why you were having those stupid thoughts. You approached your friend and placed your gloved hand to his shoulder, indicating him that you were besides him and waiting for him to pay attention to you. You catched a part of the conversation and they were talking about one of the last missions the undercover agents did, so after a court nod from Bucky and a brief goodbye from her, his eyes were on you.

“Well, look at you!” He smiled at you warmly and you felt something flip inside you. “How did you recognize me?”

“Oh boy, you can mask that face all you want but you can’t mask those thighs.” You smirked and he started laughing at your comment, making you feel proud of your wittiness.

“How drunk are you already?” You brought your hand up between your bodies and pressed your thumb and index together whispering “a little” so only he could hear it.

“Lucky for you, I drank almost a flask, so that makes us dangerous already. Wanna dance?” He extended his hand and you took it accepting his invitation. You suddenly felt really nervous since it was the first time you were going to slow dance with him but unbeknown to you, Bucky Barnes felt sick due to his nerves. He wanted this to work, he wanted to show you and the world that he was still capable of being a soft person, not this cold calculative soldier with a dark past.

The feeling of his hand on your waist and your other hands intertwined was intoxicating you, your bodies pressed together, the only thing between you two were your clothes. You spinned around the room for what felt like eternity, time for you had stopped and everyone had disappeared.

You burst the small bubble you were both in saying you needed a drink, Bucky stopped swaying you and with your hands still intertwined, went to the empty bar.

“I’ve always loved the Victorian Era, you know?” He said while giving you a glass full of vodka, and took a sip of his flask. “The clothes, the courting, the chivalry and all that fuss.” He smiled sadly at you thinking that you wouldn’t notice.

“If you could, would you go back in time and stay?”

He took another sip, now longer, and shook his head. “Of course not, you wouldn’t be there.” He blurted out without thinking and you just giggled at the comment.

“Oh Barnes, don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure you would make good friends there as well.” You gave him a sincere smile and he shook his head again, taking another sip of the flask, this time a long one. You looked down at your glass and twirled the straw, looking at how the ice cubes collided with each other.

“I love you.” You jerked your head up and maybe it was the alcohol clouding your mind or the denial of your own feelings, but you didn’t notice his intense gaze, filled with love and adoration.

“And I love you too, you idiot. As my best friend, you should know that already.” You placed your lips around the straw and finished the whole drink, Bucky still looking at you shocked that you rejected his feelings without you noticing.

“No, Y/n, what I mean is that I’m-”

“You are what, Barnes?” Nat cut Bucky off and you threw yourself into her arms, kissing her face and wishing her a happy birthday. “I missed you, Nat. Where were you?” You started talking to her totally ignoring your friend, who got that as his cue to leave the party. He would never blame you for not feeling the same or not even noticing his feelings, that was totally on him, but he didn’t feel well enough to stay in the party. He knew you wanted him there, to get drunk together and then both of you ending up throwing up in the sink and the toilet, but tonight he needed to breathe, he needed to get out of the crowd.

“Hey, where is going Bucky?” Asked Steve while he approached Nat and you. You frowned and looked at the entrance, catching a glimpse of Bucky’s broad shoulders and hair leaving the party. “I’ll be back in a sec.” You said and stumbled down the bar stool, heading towards the entrance half running.

“We both know they are not coming back, right?” Steve said to Nat, a strong nod and a sigh answered his comment.

You ran as fast as your drunken state let you but before you could notice you slipped with the dress and fell.

“FUCK” You screamed to the empty hall and took off your heels and gloves, standing up trying not to fall again on your ass. Bucky was nowhere to be seen so you headed to his room, your head spinning due to the alcohol.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky startled you, making you lose balance but he caught you before you could fall again.

“I was just checking that you got to your room safely, since you know, you get lost and all that.” You laughed at his fake hurt expression and straightened your clothes. You noticed that he had taken off his mask and that you were still wearing yours. “Why did you leave?”

“I’m feeling a bit sick, I think I drank too mu-”

“James, if you don’t tell me what the fuck is wrong I’ll torture you until you do. The drinking excuse is the worst you could’ve used with me.”

Bucky sighed defeated, he knew he had to get it off his chest, after three years carrying this on his own, he needed to let the words out, he needed you to know. He reached for the laces of your mask and took it off, placing a strand of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek.

“I love you, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes in fake annoyance just to mess up with him.

“Baby, we already established that I lov-”

“Y/n, you are not listening. I am in love with you. I want to be your best friend, your lover, your partner in crime and your drunk buddy.”

You stared at him wide eyed, not knowing what to answer or to do. He caressed your cheek with his thumb and you gasped at the feeling, making Bucky think that you were rejecting the act. You stopped him from moving his hand and he leaned in, his lips brushing yours lightly.

“Either you kiss me or I faint, so make a m-” And just like that, his lips crashed against yours with a passion and hunger you’ve never felt in your entire life. He pressed you against the door, the stupid huge dress stopping you from feeling anything. Your brain finally woke up and you realized what was going on. Bucky Barnes loved you, he was in love with you. And you were in love with him. You pulled away and stopped him, making him step backwards scared that he did something you didn’t want to.

“You love me?” You really asked him, thinking that maybe your brain was betraying you. He nodded and looked away, not wanting to see the rejection in your eyes.

“Hey coward, look at me.” You held his chin and forced him to look at you. “I love you too, always have. I was just too damn scared to admit it to even myself.” He smiled and kissed you again, this time slower, pouring every ounce of love he had for you in the kiss.

“What now?” He asked you once he pulled away to breathe. He had his hand on the back of your neck, caressing your skin with his thumb.

“As much as I’d love you to fuck me against every surface on that room, I am drunk and tired and I need to process everything.” He nodded and waited for you to come up with what you wanted to do next. “So you are going to take this dress off me carefully cause I can’t do it on my own and it’s expensive as fuck, you are going to give me one for your shirts and we are sleeping, together.” He nodded again and smiled, leaning in again to give your lips a small peck.

“Consider it done, asshole.”

#vi1khistoricalchallenge #Bucky Barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #the winter soldier #mutual pining #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers #avengers #the avengers #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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weeniewrites · 4 years ago

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OKAY ONE LAST POST BECAUSE IM ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE AT NOT TALKING

its a more serious one though, so if you dont wanna see me be more personal go ahead and skip i dont mind. im gonna ramble abt the shame i feel with having sadistic thoughts and fears of sexual agency, and kinda, sex in general, maybe some self destructive behaviors? kinda honestly putting my soul out there. its a bit of a vent post. im not having a bad night or anything, just thinking a lot, and want to get those thoughts out of my head

i, really outta do some research on actual sadism or just, see other people who have similar thoughts cause ill admit i feel a lot of guilt about it. like id never, ever, EVER want to hurt another person, and the idea of even spanking someone consensually is very scary to me

but this isnt a new thing for me, some of the first things i found arousing as a kid involved pain. i was fascinated by inuyashas blood covered hands, and rewatched part of a youtube letsplay over and over and over again just to hear the noise link made when he got injured again. same with part of that animated 2ne1 music video where the villain grimaces when his car gets hit. these are really vivid memories for me so like, i know this isnt some suddenly new thing for me. (im also repulsed by gore but can also find it beautiful in art, and writing violent stuff is therapeutic for me but can be REALLY triggering if im reading it)

and i dont know if that sorta, anti kink purity culture thing the internets been moving towards has contributed? to that shame i feel, or if thats just my empathy acting up. because i really do care strongly for people, basically every person i ever meet. and i, sort? of understand the appeal of masochism myself, and i definitely understand the appeal of domming. but i dont understand how to control a scene, how to start up a scene, how to monitor the subs mental state, how to even take that control in the first place because even imagining doing that scares me so, so fucking badly

so i write noncon dom stuff, so i dont have to figure out how to get them there, or how to keep them safe, and i get to satisfy that deep hidden desire to scratch and claw and smile and laugh at someone shaking and crying in fear. or if its soft, just taking care of them and loving them and being loved and needed i can imagine companionship in the only way i understand how, through sex. ive had very few long lasting close friendships, ive never had a crush, and honestly im not, sure? i enjoy sex? like i like being touched but once i have to do it back i get really scared (unless we take things really slow, but im also very inexperienced). i just like being desired, or honestly getting touch of any kind and thats the only way i know how to ask for it

and i kinda, only realized that fear recently. i dont think i had it when i was 18 and I was just starting to interact with people online. but back then i wouldve never dreamed of flirting with anyone either. (had that fuckin trauma BOY HOWDY)

um, to bring this around to what brought these thoughts out, a while ago i was flirting with a friend, we just did that for fun absolutely no sexual or romantic intentions involved. and they told me about how sore they were and i responded back with a grin and giggle and a growl and a laugh and said all the different ways id love to bend and prod them to make it worse because, well, I’m a sadist. and they liked it. i got dizzy with how much i enjoyed that teasing. i literally started slurring my words and had to stop because i couldnt talk anymore, just drool and lay in a warm fuzzy heap of satisfied feelings.

and then afterwards we talked for a bit and as i calmed down and came back to myself i just, i felt like i was going to burst out of my skin, shakey and unsteady, head buzzing, nearly obsessive with the need to tell them i’d never hurt them and make sure i hadnt. so i told them. tried to keep control of myself but i cried. i was near fucking inconsolable. i was terrified i made them uncomfortable, went too far though everything was consensual and it was just flirting, not even explicit! teasing at the maximum! we’d said far spicier things before! they knew i’d never hurt them never want to hurt them never dream of hurting them. and i still cried. i felt wrong. i felt mean i felt horrible, and i’d enjoyed it

and im still a sadist, i find specific kinds of pain arousing, i dont like scarring or blood, preferring discomfort over all, and occasionally i write much much darker content that i dont find sexually appealing, but helps me get out my anger and other emotions i dont know how to process otherwise, and sometimes its just, fun? i know i dont want to hurt people, and i know these things are helpful for me, but i still feel shame

honestly a lot of the kinks or fetishes i used to like, im not sure if i do anymore, either because i just, dont, or ive realized theyre not as acceptable as i once thought, or theyre just not as common online anymore. and i dont feel comfortable sharing them, whether out of fear of rejection, or of making someone else uncomfortable. considering some of the stuff i enjoy imagining or writing i cant read myself. thats, kindof a weird contrast isnt it? (but that might also be because when i was younger, much younger, id read very dark fics, or angst, or look at gore, animal death, death and the nearly dying, as a form of self harm, purposefully seeking out what i knew would trigger me just to keep me dissociating for as long as possible so i wouldnt have to feel, and i’ll admit this is still a mild problem for me, but ive gotten leagues, leagues LEAGUES better. and i try very hard to heed warnings, because i know no one would want me to do that with their works)

cant i just have fun, do i have to have all these shames and memories to go along with this kind of stuff. whyd i find it when i was younger. why do i so closely associate porn and sex with pain when ive never really stopped consuming it. why cant i admit i just want to be held and told im important and enough instead of imagining getting dicked down by men who i both wouldnt be attracted to irl and be scared of

#weenierambles #tw vent

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