haven-in-writing

[haven-in-writing]

Under The Influence

You never yelled at me while sober

Only while drunk or high

And the day you shouted at me

Left me with something broken inside.

I returned to the familiar comfort

Of the bathroom floor

Pressed against the wall and corner

Watching jersey shore.

You always apologize after

For losing your temper with me

It’s always ‘your job is stressful enough’

You shouldn’t have to deal with me.

The same thoughts I find lingering

Touching the back of my mind

Tell me that it’s so much better

If only that I would die.

[haven-in-writing]

I don’t really know what to do but I’m just venting out of frustration right now. I have so much piled on me that it’s not even funny. My landlord jacked the rent up higher than we were expecting and now I’m $543 short of what I’m supposed to pay and I can’t even afford to get groceries this week or next week. I have literally $8.09 in my banking account and rent is due next Tuesday.

I have no clue wtf I’m going to do. But if anyone is willing to help I would appreciate it even if it’s a dollar 😭 I’d be willing to write a fic or read tarot in exchange but I need help so bad right now.

My cashapp is $Alexria my name is under Queen B (don’t judge me I’m trying to sell feet pics but it’s not working)

[haven-in-writing]

I don’t really know what to do but I’m just venting out of frustration right now. I have so much piled on me that it’s not even funny. My landlord jacked the rent up higher than we were expecting and now I’m $543 short of what I’m supposed to pay and I can’t even afford to get groceries this week or next week. I have literally $8.09 in my banking account and rent is due next Tuesday.

I have no clue wtf I’m going to do. But if anyone is willing to help I would appreciate it even if it’s a dollar 😭 I’d be willing to write a fic or read tarot in exchange but I need help so bad right now.

My cashapp is $Alexria my name is under Queen B (don’t judge me I’m trying to sell feet pics but it’s not working)

[haven-in-writing]

a printer error is an attempt from god to get you to kill yourself but you must be stronger and you must must must beat the printer to death with a large object like object

[haven-in-writing]

I made this meme back in 2023

Did I cook back then? lol

Me was in benninging of me writin’ career

[haven-in-writing]

Write Characters with Deep Emotional Wounds

(Without Making Them Walking Tragedies)

╰ Start with the scar, not the stabbing. Everyone talks about what happened to your character (The Big Trauma) but honestly? It’s the aftermath that matters. Show me the limp, not the bullet wound. Show me the way they flinch at kindness or double-check locks three times. The wound shapes them more than the event ever did.

╰ Don't make them "Sad All The Time" People with deep hurts aren’t just dramatic sob machines. They make bad jokes. They find weird hobbies. They have good days and then get wrecked by a song in a grocery store. Layers, my friend. Pain is complex and it sure as hell isn’t aesthetic.

╰ Let them almost heal and then backslide. Real healing isn’t linear. One good conversation doesn’t erase ten years of bottled-up grief. Your character might think they’re over it, and then one tiny thing, a smell, a phrase, a look, knocks them right back into the hole. Make them earn their healing. Make us ache for them.

╰ Give them armor and show the cracks. Maybe it’s sarcasm. Maybe it’s perfectionism. Maybe it’s taking care of everyone else so no one notices they're broken. Whatever mask they wear, show us the hairline fractures. Let us catch the moments where they almost drop the act.

╰ Don’t turn their trauma into their only personality trait. Yes, they’ve been through hell. But they also love spicy chips and bad reality TV. They have dumb crushes and secret dreams. A tragic backstory isn’t a substitute for a full human being. Let them be more than the worst thing that ever happened to them.

╰ Let their wound warp their decisions. People protect their wounds. Even badly. Especially badly. They might sabotage good relationships. Or push away help. Or cling too tightly. Make their past live in their choices, not just their flashbacks.

╰ Don’t make the world validate them for existing. Not everyone is going to understand your wounded character. Some people will misunderstand them. Blame them. Get frustrated. And honestly? That’s real. Let your character find their people, after facing the ones who don’t get it. It’s so much sweeter that way.

╰ Wounds can make them kinder—or crueler. Pain changes people. Some become protectors. Some become destroyers. Some do both, depending on the day. Let your character’s hurt make them complicated. Unpredictable. Human.

╰ Don’t heal them just to tie a neat bow on your story Sometimes the best ending is messy. Sometimes the healing is just starting. Sometimes it’s just hope, not a full recovery montage. That’s okay. Healing is a lifelong, terrifying, brave process—and readers feel it when you respect that.

[haven-in-writing]

when your stomach is really mad at you and you're not sure which one of your fourteen unhealthy lifestyle choices is causing it

[haven-in-writing]

Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens 2025 Tour

I can’t believe I finally got to see the two bands that introduced me to the music I know and love to this day. Quite literally have gotten me through the worst times of my life and through several attempts.

[haven-in-writing]

Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens 2025 Tour

I can’t believe I finally got to see the two bands that introduced me to the music I know and love to this day. Quite literally have gotten me through the worst times of my life and through several attempts.

[haven-in-writing]

oh my god

[haven-in-writing]

[haven-in-writing]

Soldat

She and The Winter Soldier are each other's only solace on the H.Y.D.R.A base.

The Winter Soldier X Reader

Bucky Barnes X Reader

"I need to know, kid-"

The snarl that left her lips was animalistic. "Don't call me that," she said, her voice low enough to be a growl.

A sigh left Steve's lips as he stared at her. But his blue eyes weren't intimidating, not in the slightest.

Not compared with what she was used to.

He held up a picture. "Do you know this man?"

It wasn't a clear picture, not in the slightest. Nearly impossible to make out who the picture was of. But she knew. Of course she knew who he was. He was the most terrifying man she had ever met.

"Have you got a date with death, Captain America?" She mused, tugging at her binds. "Because that's all you'll get by seeking him out."

A single flame appeared on her fingertips. She held it against the rope around her wrist.

Steve let his head fall, shoulders slumping forward slightly. "Why are you doing this, kid? Why do you want to work for H.Y.D.R.A?

She clenched her jaw. "I told you, Captain, don't call me kid." She smirked at him as her flame singed at the rope. "I've fucked men older than you."

Pink dusted his cheeks as he turned away from her.

"And," she continued, "for the record, I don't want to work for H.Y.D.R.A. Just like your friend, I don't have a choice."

Her words weren't supposed to be comforting, but warm blossomed in Steve's chest. Of course Bucky wasn't doing this out of choice. Somehow, he was being forced.

The rope fell away from her wrists, but she stayed still.

"He will come for me."

"The Winter Soldier," Steve said and she nodded, confirming it.

But then Steve crouched in front of her, his arms resting on his legs. "Good."

Her fist connected with his face. Not yet surrounded by fire, that would come if he didn't let her go. "Trust me, Captain, I'm saving you!" She yelled as he stumbled away from her, giving her room to stand up. "The Soldier won't hold back when it comes to me."

It wasn't supposed to be a brag, but it was. When you have Earth's most dangerous assassin at your beck and call, it's kind of hard not to brag.

Each step left marks in the floor, soot in the shape of her boot. "If it wasn't for him, I'd thank you for getting me out, Captain." She said it with such sincerity, Steve could only stare. "But I can't leave him there."

Her fists were on fire as she walked away from him. Captain America should have been putting up more of a fight, but he let her go, watched her walk away from him.

At the sounds of screams from outside of whatever building she was in, she broke into a run. Through the empty halls of the building and through the doors, out into the light of midday.

Whatever plan Captain America had, it was a bad one.

He stalked towards her, killing everything in his path. The mask and goggles covered his face, but she knew it was him. She would always know it was him.

"Soldat."

His movements were slow, purposeful as he moved towards her. He said nothing as he became hurried, almost desperate.

This wasn't the first time she had been his mission. She had never been afraid of him, of the danger he possessed.

He held his gun in his metal hand,his other arm stretched out towards her. He spoke in Russian as he took her hand and pulled her into his side.

"I'm okay," she said back to him, switching to Russian. "I'm safe, Soldat."

He was silent as he took her away, his hold on her tight. She wrapped her arms around him as he took her away on his bike. Her arms were tight around him, face pressed against his muscled back.

All the while, she had no idea she was being tracked.

***

He held her tight as H.Y.D.R.A tried to pull them apart. But The Winter Soldier wasn't going to let her go.

"Soldat," she whispered, thumb moving over his cheek. "I'm okay. You can let me go."

A grunt left his lips, but he made no move to release her. But then they started to say those fucking words. "Longing."

"No!" She cried. She searched his blue eyes, tried to work out who he was. The Soldier, or the man he used to be.

"Rusted."

"Soldat." His hand came to rest on top of hers, his other arm still holding her tight.

"Furnace."

He drew in a sharp breath, but he didn't let go of her. He wouldn't let go of her, until his mind wasn't his own.

When they finished those damned words, The Winter Soldier released her. He was still reluctant, moving slowly and unwillingly.

But, as soon as he let her go, they grabbed her, took her away from him. Unlike the Soldier, she wasn't brainwashed. She didn't need reconditioning.

She struggled as they took her away from The Soldier. But she would find her way back to him, she always did. The last time H.Y.D.R.A tried to keep them apart, The Winter Soldier slaughtered everybody in his way to get to her.

"Kidnapped by Captain America," said her handler, her researcher as he stalked towards her, notebook open. "I thought you were trained better than that."

She stared at him, resisting a scowl. "Father," she said and held her chin up. "I don't understand why I am here."

Her father released a chuckle. "We need to understand how, Darling. How did a highly skilled killer get kidnapped by Captain America."

She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her boots. "He caught me by surprise," she mumbled and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"How?"

"James."

She stopped in her tracks upon hearing his name, her mission forgotten. She knew that name. James. Her Soldier.

"You know James."

Her hands shook at her sides, ready to swing. "No," she managed to spit. But her voice was strained, as if it hurt to say.

But really, she didn't know a James. She knew The Winter Soldier, not the man he was before. The man he was before wasn't hers to know.

"Sorry about this, kid."

"I'm not a-"

But something hit the back of her head, and she crumpled to the floor.

"I don't know," she answered, her voice shaking. "I wasn't concentrating."

He wrote something down.

"It won't happen again."

"It won't happen again, what?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

They dragged her away after that, dragged her back to her soldat. But they didn't have to drag her, she went willingly. All she wanted was to get back to him. Her steps were hurried, her guards holding her back.

As soon as she was in the cell, she was upon him. "Soldat," she whispered as she stood before where he sat on the bed.

His legs were already parted, but he gave her enough room to climb between them. His hands settled on the backs of her thighs as he stared up at her.

Again, she couldn't tell who she was looking at. The Winter Soldier, or James.

Her hands settled in his shoulders. "Soldat," she whispered again. "James."

"I know that name," he whispered.

"It's yours, according to the man that kidnapped me."

A sigh left his lips. His hands moved up, settling on her waist. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, blinking when she pushed his hair out of his face.

She shook her head. "No, but he wanted to get to you," she answered and kissed him. It was only quick, testing what James would let her do.

He kissed her back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What if I could get you out of here?" He whispered, his flesh hand moving up her back. "Would you want to come with me?"

This was all she had ever known. But she hated it. There had to be better for her out there, better with him. With James, with her Soldier. She would take him any way she could get him. As James. As the soldier. As Bucky.

She nodded her head as she climbed into his lap. "In a heartbeat," she whispered as she laid her head against his shoulder.

His hand closed around something around her back. He tugged it from her shirt and held it in his palm. "I think I've found us a way out, sweetheart."

She was so damn scared, but she had him by her side. Her James. Her Soldier.

[haven-in-writing]

Okay okay okay…. I NEED MORE DANGIT!!! They’re so cute and happy 😊 also not Brock Rumlow being mentioned 👀 wonder what’s going on there…!

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART NINE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.1K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, cussing, breaking bones, torture, murder, violence, weapon use

A/N ✦ Hiiii I'm back lol sorry it took so long for an update life has been HECTIC!!!

PART EIGHT »»» Series Masterlist

A loud crack echoed through the large room, the sound of a man following after it. 

“One more time, who the fuck do you work for.” Bucky hissed.

He towered above one of the men who had shot at you. Sam managed to catch both of the men after their vehicle had crashed. While Bucky was busy with you, Sam had brought them to one of the empty warehouses Bucky owned near the coast. 

“Fuck you.”, the man croaked back.

Another crack sounded, and the man paled, throwing up from the pain soon after. Bucky had broken all his fingers, one by one, for refusing to answer his questions. They were all bent at odd angles, rendering the man's hands useless. 

Bucky’s hand fisted in the man's hair and yanked his head back to stare at him. 

“You realize you still have ten toes, right? I will break each fucking one of them if you don’t tell me who sent you after my girl and I.”

The man's eyes filled with terror.

“Brock, Brock Rumlow.”

Bucky released his head and turned to leave. Nodding to Sam as he departed, the aforementioned man moved from his spot where he was leaning up against the wall, hand reaching to his side for his holster.

“Wait–No, I gave you the fucking information, you bastard!”

The man's shouts drowned out as Bucky shut the door behind him. A loud pop sounded a few seconds later; he was unfazed by it.

His pocket buzzed. Reaching for his phone, a grin lit up his face as he saw a text message from you.

Y/N: Would movie night tomorrow work?

Bucky: Of course, sweetheart.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

You paced in your entryway.

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. Besides, you look great.”, Nat said from her spot on the couch. 

You were nervous about your second date with Bucky. It wasn’t that you were afraid of being shot at again, but it was the fact that you were already beyond smitten with this man and didn’t want anything to ruin it. 

You fidgeted with the hem of the grey T-shirt you wore. You had dressed in pajamas for your movie night, texting Bucky beforehand and making him agree to also wear pajamas. You wore your favorite pajama pants, silky pink ones adorned with tiny purple and red hearts. Your feet were tucked into a pair of fuzzy purple slippers a similar shade as the socks you wore. 

A knock sounded from your front door, almost making you jump. Turning toward the door you hurried to open it. Flinging the door open you looked Bucky up and down. He was dressed in tartan pajama pants, a tight white t-shirt, and black slippers. You smiled up at him happy he was already wearing his pajamas so you didn’t feel out of place. 

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your bag from its hook next to the door.

Looking over you shoulder you called to Nat, “See you later!”

“See you guys.”, she waved at you, not looking away from her show. 

You exited your apartment, locked the door, and walked down the hallway hand in hand with Bucky.

The two of you made small talk on the way to his home, the trip going quickly. Pulling into his driveway Bucky threw his car into park and jumped out of the car hurrying to open your door for you. 

“Thank you.”, you blushed, smiling at the tall man.

“Of course sweetheart.”

The two of you ventured into his home, Bucky leading you down a hallway you hadn’t been down yet. Entering the room at the end of the hall your eyes widened. Bucky had a fucking theatre in his house, because of course he did. You thought to yourself that if you too were rich you would totally have a theatre as well.

Several rich black-leather chairs formed rows of four, the screen took up the entire wall in front of them, a popcorn machine popped in the corner, and there was a small countertop in the back of the room covered in different snacks and drinks. 

“This is so cool.”

Bucky felt his chest swell with pride, happy to have so far made you happy.

“Wanna grab some snacks and then we can pick a movie?”

“Yes!”, you beamed at him.

Hurrying towards the counter you pondered over which snacks to grab before selecting (you favorite drink) and a bag of (your favorite chips). Bucky grabbed a package of Reese’s Pieces and a bottle of water. 

You moved towards the popcorn machine before Bucky shooed you away, telling you to sit down and he would get the popcorn for the both of you. 

Plopping into one of the plush chairs you sighed, relaxing back into it and hitting the button to raise the footrest, propping up your feet. 

“How much butter or salt do you wat?”, Bucky asked from the popcorn cart.

“I’m not picky you can do whatever.”

A few minutes later and Bucky sat down beside you, setting the bucket of popcorn on the arm rest between your seats. The popcorn glistened in the low lights of the theatre room, it was saturated in butter, practically marinating in it. 

You let out a laugh.

“What?”, Bucky raised his eyebrow at you.

“Nothing it’s just, I didn’t realize when I said do whatever you want that you were going to drown the popcorn.”, you giggled out. 

He chuckled along with you.

“Hey this is the best way to eat it.”

“Oh whatever. How can you eat shit like this and still like a Greecian statue?”

“So you think I look like a Greecian statue?”, a wide smile plastered his face and he cheekily began flexing his large arms. 

A blush lit up your face and heat pooled in your stomach as you stared at his bulging biceps, almost salivating all over yourself. 

 He laughed at your bright face. 

“What movie a-are we watching?”, you stuttered out. 

“What do you want to watch?”

Bucky, as it turned out, had never seen Interstellar, which you had as one of your top five movies, so you very easily talked him into watching it. At the end of the movie you were a sobbing mess and Bucky sat with his mouth open taking a few minutes to process everything that had just happened in the movie. 

After you had calmed down and Bucky had regained his composure he asked if you’d wanted to stay the night again, an obvious yes.

“Yes of course, but I do have to be at work at eight in the morning.”, you frowned. 

“So what? I can take you to work.”

“You don’t have to��”

Bucky cut you off, cupping your face in his hand. 

“I don’t have to, but I want to Y/N.”

You could have swooned, instead opting for leaning in and softly kissing him on the lips, pulling away and murmuring a quiet thank you. 

The two of you moved upstairs to Bucky's large bed, and quickly fell asleep in each others arms.

PART TEN COMING SOON

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

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[haven-in-writing]

[haven-in-writing]

me when : *literally anything*

Close up of horses.

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[haven-in-writing]