loverswritesandreads

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Dialogue Masterpost

Dialogue prompts are my favourite kind. So little context, so much creative space to have fun with. So here is a my masterpost full of dialogue prompts.

Romantic Dialogue

Flirting Prompts - Oblivious and flirty

Teasing Prompts

More Teasing Prompts

Romance Dialogue - Bubbly + Reserved

Dramatic/Break-up Dialogue Prompts

More Break-up Dialogue Prompts

One-sided affections dialogue

Unwanted Attention Prompts

Unrequited Love Prompts

Push and pull romantic prompts

Jealousy Prompts

heartbreaking.

First Kiss Prompts

Things said during sex Prompts

Awkward Post-Sex Dialogue

Smutty Dialogue (Masterpost)

One-Liners Dialogue - Romantic, Smutty + Physical (Masterpost)

Romance Dialogue Prompts – Uncomfortable with affection

Grumpy Affectionate Dialogue

Grumpy + Sunshine Dialogue

Inexperienced with romance Prompts

Love Confessions (Masterpost)

Romantic Date Dialogue Prompts

Asking out on a date

Anniversary Dinner Dialogue

Secret Relationship Dialogue

How to write Enemies to Lovers + Dialogue Prompts

Oblivious Enemies to Lovers Prompts

Enemies to Lovers: Apocalypse AU

Exes to lovers dialogue

Friends to lovers Dialogue

Best friends to lovers Dialogue

Childhood friends to enemies to lovers Dialogue

Enemies to friends with benefits Prompts

Enemies to friends Prompts

Fluffy

Fluffy Dialogue Prompts Part I

Fluffy Dialogue Prompts Part II

Fluffy Sentence Starters

One Hundred Compliments

Shy Compliments

Hidden Pregnancy Dialogue

Sleepy Starters

Cooking/Baking Dialogue Prompts

Friends and Family

Silly Drunk Dialogue

Bar Conversation Starters

Rekindling Friendship Dialogue

Not Wanting to Rekindle Friendship Dialogue

Reconnecting Friends Prompts

Supernatural/Crime/Co.

Hero x Villain - Snarky Dialogue

Hero + Villain Dialogue

Angst Villain Dialogue

Supervillain Roommates

Life & Death Prompts + Dialogue

Demons Dialogue

Angel/Demon Dialogue

Angel/Human Dialogue

Human/Ghost Dialogue Prompts

Assassins Banter Dialogue

Showing aliens the human world

FBI mentor and mentee prompts

Heist Prompts

Hurt/Comfort and Angst

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Angsty Dialogue (Masterpost)

AUs

Bodyguard Dialogue Prompts

Patient and Doctor Prompts

Neighbors to Lovers Dialogue

Coffee Shop Prompts

Matchmaking at Work Prompts

Royalty Dialogue

Princess x Loyal Companion

Prince/ss x Commoner

Princess x Guard

Arranged Marriage Dialogue

Royal Arranged Marriage Dialogue Prompts

Royalty Forced Married to Actual Lovers Prompts

Royal x Royal Ball Dancing

Grad Students Prompts

High School Popular Kid + Outcast Dialogue

More

Dialogue Responses Masterlist

Drabble Prompts Masterlist

Three Word Sentences

Four Word Sentences

Five Word Sentences

Six Word Sentences

short & impactful

powerful.

"I can't…"

Reactions to… (Masterpost)

Asking for permission

Random Questions Prompts

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Better

summary: y/n and Bucky have been dating for just over a month when y/n goes down a depressive and anxious whole. Bucky shows up to take care of her and shows how much she means to him. like with all mental and physical health care, it doesn’t “fix” or “cure” anything, and it’s not supposed to, but it does make it better.

pairing: modern!bucky x y/n (she/her); first person pov

word count: 4K

content warnings/tropes: fluff, hurt/comfort, mental health discussions & concerns, depression and anxiety specifically

a/n: I wrote this a while ago and finally feel ready to post it. I used the utmost care with the topics discussed, as well as my own experience from myself and others. please take the most care of yourself (even if that means not reading), you are the most important. if you read, I hope you enjoy and find a safe place to escape. 💜

Bucky shows up at my door. He knocks twice.

“Y/N…please open up. Sweetheart, please, let me in.”

I had no idea why he was here. I hadn’t talked to him in several days, wanting to spare him the dramatics of what I liked to call my ‘dark time.’

Opening the door, I say, “Bucky, what are you doing here?” I suddenly feel as though I may have forgotten something. “Did we have plans today? I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I’ve just been taking care of stuff around here…” 

He interrupts my rambling, “we didn’t have plans, but you haven’t responded to my texts or calls… I’ve been worried.” He continues before I can respond, “I’m sorry, I should have told you I was coming over, or asked instead of just doing it. But I was worried, it’s not like you to not respond. Are you ok?”

We’re still standing in my doorway. “Yeah, totally. Just been busy is all.” Does he notice my red- rimmed eyes? Does he notice the hitch in my voice? Does he notice I’ve been wearing the same clothes for three days by the look and smell of them? 

He must notice.

He says in a light and breezy tone, contrasting his original serious concern in this conversation, “have you eaten? I’m starving.”

He pushes into the apartment. 

I’m a little stunned, truth be told. We have only been dating for about 6 weeks, I didn’t think we’d gotten close enough to show up unannounced to each other’s apartments or barge our way in when we’re clearly dealing with something. It should annoy me. It should irritate me. It should anger me that he takes such liberties so soon into a relationship. But it doesn’t. It makes me feel… cared for? Like he knows something is wrong and instead of trying to force my hand at an explanation he simply changed topics to food and the reality of us dining together this evening. 

“You have no food.” He states simply. The refrigerator light illuminates his sweet face. “How do you only have an empty milk carton and a bag of wet lettuce?”

“I haven’t gone to the grocery store.” Obviously.

“Well, this is disgraceful. Just disgraceful. Tomorrow, we are going to the best grocery store we can think of and buying everything.”

He’s making plans for tomorrow. What is “tomorrow”? I don’t even know what tomorrow is. I haven’t thought of tomorrow in at least a week. It’s hard to think of tomorrow when all your energy is being spent trying to get through today. The reality of today weighs harder than it has in a while. I thought these thoughts finally met their maker when I started dating Bucky. Though, I thought the same thing when I met Bucky and thus my mind waged war with itself convincing me Bucky could never want me how I wanted him.

But alas, the demons were wrong. He wanted me. He told me so. He showed me so. I couldn’t believe it. I thought, Okay, a few dates and something is bound to scare him off. I’m not interesting enough. I’m not funny enough. I’m not pretty enough, he must know, certainly everyone else does. 

He kept asking me on dates. I kept saying yes. He kissed me. Oh, how he kissed me that night outside my apartment building.

. . .

He insisted on walking me home that cold December night. I told him he didn’t have to, he lived in the opposite direction, but he insisted. He held my hand, made me feel like the most special person in the world. He pulled my hand to a stop a few steps from the door. “Y/N,” he said. “We’ve gone on a few dates now and I’ve tried to be respectful, but I have to ask because I honestly don’t know what else to do.” 

This is it, I thought. He wants to know why I am so awkward all the time. Why I can’t seem to hold an intelligent conversation. Why I am always brought to a stuttering mess by the secret little looks he sends me.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out.

What? WHAT?! He wants to kiss me?

“It’s just… I figured I’d know when you wanted me to kiss you but every time I go to make the move, you duck your head and shy away. I thought maybe it is just shyness or whatever but maybe you really don’t want me to kiss you, so I figured I’d just ask. Best plan of action I could come up with. So, I ask again, can I kiss you, please?” 

      I am stunned. I am awestruck. I am gaping at this beautiful man who just asked to kiss me twice. He has twice now asked to kiss me. Oh. My. Gosh. Oh my gosh!!! I have a million ways I want to say yes, but my awkward-ass self only seems to come up with “yes, please.” 

      He smiles. That beautiful, crooked smile. And then he leans, he leans so close. He’s moving slow like he knows that’s what I need. His nose brushes mine. “I haven’t kissed a lot.” Why do I do this to myself? Just shut up, Y/N. “I mean,” because of course I can never shut up, “just don’t expect much.”

      “I don’t expect anything.” He answers. “But I know without a doubt you are amazing and that kissing you will be amazing. If you don’t believe me, please feel free to prove me wrong.” 

I smile up at him, and he lowers his mouth to mine. His soft, full lips covering mine so gently, I can’t help the little moan that rises in my throat. He pulls away grinning…winningly? Smirking, I think they call that smirking. Before I get a chance to respond to the smirk, his mouth is back on mine showing me how right he was. It is amazing. It is spectacular. It is everything I never knew kissing could be. He promises with his mouth and tongue that he does in fact like kissing me. That he likes me. That he wants to keep kissing, I can tell, for as long as I allow it. And I want to allow it forever. I never want to stop kissing him. Please, keep wanting to kiss me, I think to myself. When oxygen becomes necessary, we pull away, grinning stupidly at each other. 

“You are amazing,” he whispers to me. “With your permission, I’d like to do that again, and often, as often as possible actually.”

I giggle, concurring, “Yes, that sounds like a good plan.” He then walks me to the building doors, stopping to place another chaste kiss to my lips, then the tip of my nose, then my forehead. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

. . .

Oh, what a beautiful night that was. I wish I could go back to that feeling of weightlessness and elation and absolute adoration I felt toward Bucky, and I could tell he felt toward me. Why is he still here? Why did he come over? Why is he still caring about me when no one else ever has? I don’t get it. 

“I’m ordering take out, what sounds good?” He says from my couch, feet propped up, phone in hand ready to order food. When did he make himself so comfortable? 

“Why are you here, Bucky.” I ask abruptly, and rather harshly if I do say so myself. 

He looks up at me, “I told you, you didn’t answer my calls.”

“Well maybe that’s because I didn’t want to be bothered.” Why am I pushing him away? He’s the only one to ever want me, why am I pushing him away? 

“Yeah… I thought about that. Decided I’d risk it anyway. I’m feeling pizza or Chinese, what do you think?”

“Bucky.” I’m getting tired again. I don’t want to fake it right now. I’ve been faking it most of the last week in school and when I talk to my mom, I can’t fake it right now. Not in my home. Not with Bucky.

“I'm worried, Y/N.” He looks serious now. “I’m worried because I know what it looks like to seclude yourself and not talk to anyone. I know more about what it feels like, though. I know what it feels like to feel like no one cares and doesn’t want me.” He looks down at his clasped hands that lay in his lap now, “I don’t want to project my feelings onto you, but this last week feels awfully similar to what Steve told me I was like when I was dealing with depression before it was diagnosed. I am absolutely not trying to diagnose anything here, but I know what it's like. I know how that loneliness feels, and if you are feeling a fraction of what I felt during that time, I am not going to risk leaving you here another minute feeling lonely and unwanted when I can easily come over here uninvited and barge my way into your home and show you that you aren’t alone. You are not alone, Y/N.” 

I don’t quite know what to say. I’m still standing at the doorway between the entryway and the living room looking at him on my couch. I don’t have a fight in me right now. I half- heartedly shrug, “I’m just feeling down right now. It's hard to feel like I’m not alone when up until a short while ago I was.” I’m looking down at my feet, trying not to feel embarrassed. Why am I embarrassed? I couldn’t tell you, but I feel like I should be. I don’t want him to see me like this. 

“Y/N,” he’s standing in front of me now. When did he move over here? “You are not alone, ok?” He repeats the mantra. I’m starting to get annoyed again. Like him saying it will make all the darkness go away.

“Yeah, I know, Bucky.” I say in a sigh, walking around him to go sit on the couch myself and put my feet up frustratingly on the ottoman in the middle of the room. “Saying it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it though, ok? I get like this from time to time. It hasn’t happened in a while, but it's happening now and you saying otherwise doesn't change how I feel.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he concedes gently, “but it still can be helpful to hear, even if it doesn't make all the bad thoughts go away.” I move my feet to the ground, and he settles on the ottoman in front of me, leaning forward, hands clasped between his knees, looking me right in the eyes-- right into my soul, it seems. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“No,” I answered instantly. I’m being petulant, I know I am, but who is he to think he can somehow make this feeling go away when I’ve spent the better part of 20 years trying with no avail. “I see a therapist, I try to not let this consume me, but it happens. And you trying to push it away because it isn’t convenient to this fun and easy little thing, we have going doesn’t help take the pressure off, you know what I’m saying?” Still, I am pushing him away, and still, I do not know why. 

“Y/N, our relationship is new. Of course, it's just been fun and easy so far, that’s what the beginning of relationships are like.” 

My eyes immediately fill with tears. Before he can say more, I interrupt, “of course I wouldn’t know that though, would I?” 

He sighs, “sweetheart, please stop feeling so embarrassed by this.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” I snap back.

He winces, “you’re right, I’m sorry. I just hate that this bothers you so much. It doesn’t bother me. It makes perfect sense to me. You told me yourself you’ve never wanted a relationship before, that makes me feel all the more special that you chose me out of everyone to want to be with.”

I scoff, “of course I said that, Bucky. When you’re 23 years old and have never had a boyfriend, let alone fooled around with anyone, it's easier to say ‘oh, yeah that’s my choice, not at all because no one has ever wanted me before.’ Don’t you see how humiliating that is for me?” The tears fully formed in my eyes, so close to tipping over the edge. “Don’t you see that it’s hard to accept sometimes that you actually want me, when literally no one else ever has?” I’m almost yelling now. I don’t want to be telling him this. I don’t want him to see me like this, such lack of confidence and so much self- pity. That’s not attractive, and I’m going to push him away with the very conversation that explains why I fear he’ll not want me anymore. 

He lets out a breath, bows his head, and brings his clasped hands up to his forehead to rest on his thumbs. “Every time you say that a part of me can’t even believe it. I know what it's like to want you, Y/N, and feel like you don’t even see me as anything more than a buddy. I didn’t kiss you until our fourth date because I was convinced you didn’t want me to. A part of me thought you were thinking we were just hanging out as friends, and I just couldn’t handle that when I wanted nothing more than to hold you and kiss you and make you mine. I wanted to be yours long before you finally claimed me. You protect yourself, Y/N. I’m sure you have plenty of valid reasons to do so, but you protect yourself so fiercely that I spent weeks trying to break down your walls and show you how amazing I think you are, how much I care about you.” He smiles fondly at me now. “I remember when you said yes to our first kiss. I couldn’t believe it. I fully expected a rejection, waiting to hear you tell me that you weren’t interested. Up until that point, I truly had no idea one way or the other about how you felt about me. But you said yes. And I thought, I am going to do everything I possibly can to show her I want her, that I want this. Don’t you see, Y/N” repeating my words from earlier, though much kinder from his lips, “don’t you see what you mean to me?” 

I want to tell him yes.

“Yes,” but I also need to be honest, “but I don’t believe it sometimes.”

“Why?” he asks gently.

“Because I’ve wanted you, too.” Tears fully running down my cheeks now. “Yes, I protect myself. I do it because I’m used to wanting someone who doesn’t want me, so I have to protect myself from what I assume is the inevitable pain of rejection.” 

He goes to speak again but I cut him off, needing him to know just one more thing. “I’m glad you persisted, though. I know it's technically only been a little over a month of us going out but I’ve had the best time with you. I didn’t know I could be this happy. Which is why I feel so low right now, like I’ve fallen from a higher cliff than normal and the hit at the bottom hurts more.” 

“Please let me in. Please know you can lean on me. I want to be here for you in these moments. I want you to know I care about you. Maybe that knowledge will cushion the blow just a little bit when you fall off that cliff.” 

“I want to lean on you, but I don’t know how.” I sniffle and readjust on the couch to try and relax my defensive stature. 

“Just tell me what you’re feeling. If that’s too much, tell me what you need right now. If that’s too much, just let me sit here with you until one of those isn’t too much anymore.” He says it so simply, like the solution is so simple. 

“I worry about us,” I admit quietly. “I worry I’m not enough for you.”

I can tell he wants to argue, to reassure me in his own idealistic way. But he seems to catch himself, knowing that those words won’t amount to much for me right now. “Okay,” he says instead, “what else?”

“I worry about school, not being smart enough to get through it. I waste my time reading books or scrolling through Instagram, and I hate myself for wasting time not studying.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. I’m always lonely. I always feel like I need to take care of everything by myself and I don’t have anyone to truly lean on. Then I feel guilty knowing I have you, and that just circles me back to the first one again.” I huff it all out in an exaggerated tone of annoyance and defeat, wanting so much to jump to the portion of the night where I get to not talk anymore.

“Okay.” He says, gearing up for something else. “Can I tell you what I think?”
            “I guess.”

“Let me start with the school thing. You are allowed to not study all the time. You are brilliant, and hardworking, and deserving of your spot in school and to do well. Taking breaks to read or scroll, or do anything else, is allowed and encouraged. You need to take care of yourself and spending all your time studying is not taking care of yourself. You will do well in school, you will graduate, and then pass the bar and then be a kickass lawyer.” 

I smile at the determination in his voice. He’s not telling me his opinion; he’s telling me facts that he knows to be true. 

“Now about us.” He takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart, that’s normal. I have the same worries. I constantly worry I’m not good enough for you.”

I shake my head ready to argue the point, but he interrupts.

“No, now you had your turn, it's my turn now.” That same smirk- like smile takes over his face again before it returns to the seriousness of the moment. “I worry too. But like I said earlier, we’re still new. The lightest part of the relationship is right now. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved this part. I love getting to know you more as a person and as a girlfriend, figuring out how your hand fits in mine and how our hugs work and all the different ways I can kiss you-- that part is my favorite, by the way.” 

This makes a fraction of a giggle take over my face. He smiles at the possibility.

“But the best part is still to come. It's the part where we become serious about each other. The part where things aren’t so shiny and new anymore and we start to see the not- so- perfect parts of one another and still choose to be together, to want each other like we did at the beginning, but even more so now because we can appreciate the depth of it more. I’ve loved this past month with you, but, baby, the thought of what our relationship is going to become-- I can’t even describe to you how happy it makes me. I want us to have the not- so- light times because that’s when we make clear how much we mean to each other. Am I making any sense at all?” he half- heartedly laughs out. 

“Yeah,” I say quietly, amazed at how he so perfectly articulated something I’ve been too afraid to want, “you make perfect sense.” It's time I go for broke here, tell him what’s at the core of my fear about our relationship, both now and going forward. I need to talk about this or I will never scratch this itch that I am not enough for him. I quietly ask, “it doesn’t bother you that I’m not ready to have sex with you?”

He looks a little taken aback, like he wasn’t expecting me to go there when that issue has been at the forefront of my mind since our second date five and a half weeks ago. “No,” he states definitively. “Of course not, where did that come from?”

“I feel like it's the elephant in the room whenever we’re together.” 

“Y/N, you told me, in no uncertain terms, that you want to go slow. So we’re going slow. That’s it. I don’t need any more clarification from you. When you are ready… If you are ready to cross that bridge, I trust you will tell me.” He looks down for a moment, then back up at me. “Can I… Is it ok if I ask questions if I’m not sure about something? I don’t want you to take my asking questions as a round- about or manipulative way of saying I want something you’re not ready for. But I don’t want you to think I don’t care or don’t want to know about where you are with this area of our relationship. Because I do, Y/N. I don’t care how awkward the conversations may be, I want to talk about it. I want you to be comfortable enough to talk about it with me, knowing I won’t ever pressure you into anything.” 

He’s starting to get anxious with this, like he’s worried he’s already somehow crossed a boundary. I truly start to love him a little for it. 

I reach forward and rest a hand on his arm to quiet him. “I know,” I say simply, determinedly. “I know you would never pressure me. And yes, you can ask questions. I just worry that I’m not giving you something that is so natural and expected in a relationship that it may start to cause some resentment the longer we wait.” I look him in the eye as I tell him this. I keep my voice even. I want to convey how serious I am about the possibility of resentment without him so quickly dismissing it. I want him to think about it and be honest with me if it is going to be an issue. 

He holds my stare for a moment. He keeps it as he responds, “Y/N, I will never resent you for your decisions you make about your body.” He says it in the same way I delivered the previous statement. He understands what I’m saying, and he is answering me with the thought I feel is required to deliver it. The tears come back to my eyes. He grabs my hand that is still on his arm and holds it in mine, bringing our foreheads together. “I only ever want you to be happy, sweetheart. However, I can have you, I will take and handle with all the care I have.”

“Are you sure?” I ask desperately one last time. 

He chuckles a little, “honey, I got two hands and a wild imagination. I promise; I am just fine.” I let out a wet chuckle and feel myself smiling for the first time in a long time. “There she is,” he whispers, looking in my eyes again. He leans forward and kisses the few tears away that are trailing down my cheek. Then brings his lips to my mouth for a sweet, long overdue kiss. 

When we break apart, he sighs heavily and stands up just enough to move to sit on the couch beside me, arm going immediately around my shoulders to pull me into his side. “How are you feeling?” He asks, lips against my forehead. 

“Better. Thank you,” I answer, sliding my arms around his waist to cuddle into his side. 

“Good.”

“Did you say something about food earlier?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.

He smiles that crooked smile and says, “why yes, I think I did.” He reaches for his phone, pulling up local restaurants. “So, what’re we feeling tonight? Pizza or Chinese?”

“Both,” I answer immediately. 

He laughs, “good choice.”

We rest on the couch the rest of the evening. Eating and talking and watching silly movies intermittently. He continues to reassure me; I continue to get a little better. He holds me tight as I start to drift off to sleep. I feel him nudge me to go brush my teeth and get into bed. My protests going unnoticed, apparently. When I climb into bed, I pull him down with me. “Just keep holding me, please,” I ask tiredly as my eyes fall closed. 

He slides in beside me and pulls me close. He places a kiss on my forehead and whispers, “always, sweetheart. Always.”

. . .

thank you for reading! if you like my work and want to support me, please like & reblog! you can also buy me a coffee if you’d like :)

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Masterlist

Stories

Drabbles

Ideas

Asks

. . .

thank you for reading! if you like my work and want to support me, please like & reblog! you can also buy me a coffee if you’d like :)

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Ideas

bucky idea #1 (Bucky and y/n are kinda frenemies where they irritate the hell outa one another but it’s only surface level stuff, deep down they respect one another, and they both secretly lust after each other)

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Stories

Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Original Stories

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Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Kindness Connections

When a night was ruined because I think no one wants me out with them, Bucky shows me just how well he listens. And I am powerless to the pull of the kind hunky baseball player.

Better

y/n and Bucky have been dating for just over a month when y/n goes down a depressive and anxious whole. Bucky shows up to take care of her and shows how much she means to him. like with all mental and physical health care, it doesn’t “fix” or “cure” anything, and it’s not supposed to, but it does make it better.

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reblogging this to remind me to write it!!!!

im thinking of a new bucky fanfic where Bucky and y/n are kinda frenemies where they irritate the hell outa one another but it’s only surface level stuff, deep down they respect one another, and they both secretly lust after each other. but after y/n is sent on a small mission to an old hydra base where she sees videos/ equipment of the torture used on Bucky she is so traumatized from just seeing it and knowing more abt what he actually went through that she breaks down in front of him and they have a deep heart to heart where he says he’s ok now, even though he’s still healing, he has friends and a life and joy (especially from his relationship to y/n) that he never had before. he’s still healing, but in such a better place now he knows he’ll be ok, and he got a lot of that from their harmless pranks on one another then they kiss obvi aaahhhh

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ok i’m going to start writing one shots and answers to prompts! they’ll be in first person pov with y/n and non-descriptive other characters so they can be easily linked to a fandom or real life scenario for the reader, but this is to help me get better at descriptive setting and dialogue!

if I do character writing, it’ll be bucky barnes fanfic to help with my descriptive character writing as well.

if you see this, thanks for joining me on this journey, I hope you like what I write :)

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Daydreaming is an important part of writing. Even without words pouring out onto paper, you're still the author of stories.

[loverswritesandreads]

im thinking of a new bucky fanfic where Bucky and y/n are kinda frenemies where they irritate the hell outa one another but it’s only surface level stuff, deep down they respect one another, and they both secretly lust after each other. but after y/n is sent on a small mission to an old hydra base where she sees videos/ equipment of the torture used on Bucky she is so traumatized from just seeing it and knowing more abt what he actually went through that she breaks down in front of him and they have a deep heart to heart where he says he’s ok now, even though he’s still healing, he has friends and a life and joy (especially from his relationship to y/n) that he never had before. he’s still healing, but in such a better place now he knows he’ll be ok, and he got a lot of that from their harmless pranks on one another then they kiss obvi aaahhhh

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BITS MASTERLIST

Is it all Bucky all the time? Yeah, pretty much.

Keep reading

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Pairing: Modern AU: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is the young CEO of his family’s publishing house. A year into the role and working his ass off, he’s finally taking a much needed vacation (upon the advice of his well-meaning family and friends).

Solo and feeling a little lost, Bucky finds himself getting a little attached to the front desk receptionist, a local who grew up on the islands and dreams of bigger things.

A/N: I'm still figuring some things out (including how many total chapters there will be) so please see individual chapters for warnings. This is a slow burn so I can guarantee there will be fluff and some angst. This isn't exactly an enemies-to-lovers fic, but they're more of acquaintances-to-friends-to-lovers. Additionally, I don't usually give specific ages for the reader or Bucky, but given where these two are in their lives, Bucky is 27 and the reader is similar in age, give or take a little. Finally, the islands were this is set are fictional and are not made to resemble any one specific place. The Bienville is named after a hotel in NOLA that I stayed at as a kid and fell in love with. If you'd like to be tagged as I release chapters, please let me know!

Single Occupancy

Room Service

Above the Line

Destination Management

Ecotourism

Off Resort

Add-on

Immersive Tourism

Turn-Down

Red Eye

28th and Broadway

Epilogue

[loverswritesandreads]

Always You, Forever

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take you away from it all. This time, you might just let him. 

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, mentions of abusive parents 

a/n: I’m in love with 40s Bucky!!! This is based on this request. 

Masterlist

The rain was merciless against your skin as you ran down the streets of Brooklyn. The heels you had been forced into pinched against your toes, and your satin gloves soaked water into your fingertips. You knew you should have waited for the car to come get you, but your mind was racing too fast for you to form a coherent thought. 

Occasionally, the cut on your cheek burned when a salty tear mixed in with the rain. Bucky wouldn’t be happy when he saw that; Steve would probably try to fight your dad. 

When the small apartment building you longed for finally came into view, you raced up the rickety old steps. Bucky always told you not to run on them—especially not in heels—the groans from the aging wood gave him a heart attack whenever you bounded up too quickly. Normally, you would listen to him. Not today. 

Your knocking was loud enough to wake the entire unit. You beat your hand against Bucky’s door relentlessly, praying that he wasn’t out with some girl for the night or over at Steve’s. By some stroke of luck, the door whipped open with a force, your best friend on the other side rubbing his eyes and looking half asleep. 

“Buck,” you choked out, tears blurring your vision. “I told them.” 

Keep reading

[loverswritesandreads]

Undisclosed - Masterlist

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

Warnings: Beefy!bucky, angst, references to death/crime, injury, toxicity, eventual smut (minors dni, marked **), a bit of slow burn!!  

a/n: This series is now complete 🤍

Series playlist ⍋

❆ Chapter One 

❆ Chapter Two 

❆ Chapter Three 

❆ Chapter Four 

❆ Chapter Five

❆ Chapter Six**

❆ Chapter Seven

❆ Chapter Eight 

❆ Chapter Nine 

❆ Chapter Ten

❆ Epilogue

Series art!!

🤍 Bucky

🤍 Bucky and Alpine 

🤍Scenery 

🤍 Bucky at the diner

Extra content!!

Reader gets sick (drabble)

Spring in Stowe Mills (oneshot)

The bear attack (drabble)

[loverswritesandreads]

For the Love of the Game - Masterlist

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drinking, Mild language, Angst, Minor injury, Smut (Minors dni, marked with **), Enemies to lovers trope!

a/n: This series is now complete :)

✶ Part One ✶ 

✶ Part Two ✶ 

✶ Part Three ✶

✶ Part Four ✶ 

✶ Part Five ✶ 

✶ Part Six ✶ 

✶ Part Seven ✶ 

Drabbles/One-shots (chronological after the main series, excluding the prequel) 

Bucky realizing he’s falling in love. Prequel one-shot.

First time**

The fight

Bucky gets injured during a game  

Going pro

What You’ve Got

In seven years

💙⚾️Playlist by @buckystarlight​​

[loverswritesandreads]

Kindness Connections

summary: When a night was ruined because I think no one wants me out with them, Bucky shows me just how well he listens. And I am powerless to the pull of the kind hunky baseball player.

pairing: Modern!athlete!Bucky x y/n

warnings: cursing, fluff, people being rude to reader, feelings of loneliness/isolation. Bucky has a dimple.

word count: 2K

a/n: this is the first piece I am posting here. this isn't the first story I've written though, I write to deal with overwhelming feelings and thought I might try posting one. Bucky fanfiction is a source of escape for me and helps me. I hope someone out there can escape in this and it helps them. 

“…so I went to talk to Tony about it, and he just…” I trailed off giving an exasperated look as if to say, ‘you won’t believe his response,’ but when I refocus to continue the story, I realize no one is actually listening to me right now. A few noncommittal nods and brief glances before turning to face other people at the table, but no one cares at all what I’m saying, that I’m even talking at all. I’m left with an overwhelming surge of loneliness sitting at this crowded table in the middle of a packed bar and restaurant right in midtown Manhattan surrounded by millions—I’ve never felt so isolated.

I didn’t even want to come out tonight. Peggy insisted I join her and her new boyfriend, Steve, on their evening out with his teammates and friends. Being friends since college, I knew Peggy was being sincere when she asked me to come along. She wanted me to meet Steve and maybe click with some of his friends. I don’t think she realized though just how loud and packed this place would be. But sitting a couple places down next to Steve talking to his friends and being the doting new girlfriend, she’s kind of left me to fend for myself in this sea of people I have never met before, and most of whom seem used to being the centers of attention.

I’ve been a sports fan all my life but the certain entitlement to attention some (most, male) athletes hold is downright barbaric. This asshole, (Brad? Chad? Tad? Lad???) asked me both about myself and about my job. So I, the foolish girl that I am, told him about myself and my job which included some rather hilarious stories of my boss, Tony, being well meaning but altogether ridiculous now and then. These are funny stories. Crowd pleasers: short, to the point, hilarious, well delivered. This ain’t my first rodeo talking to strangers (potential friends), I know what sticks.

But this guy, and his surrounding harem, didn’t actually seem to care one way or the other about me. I guess he was trying to give me a chance to brush myself off and ask about him. His work. His life. When I failed my mission in the first ten seconds, he quickly turned to the accompanying women who knew their assignment and passed with flying colors. Actually sitting on some laps, women are throwing themselves at these guys. I can’t say I blame the guys wholly, if someone else was giving me exactly what I wanted I wouldn’t waste my time with the new girl who erroneously answers questions I secretly don’t want answers to. But they could have waited until I was done talking.

I hate this feeling, like no one actually wants me here. I’m not wanted at this table, in this restaurant, by anyone at all for a two minute conversation and that’s enough to bring tears to my eyes. I look down and blink rapidly, feeling ridiculous that these people are having such an effect on me, but I didn’t want to come tonight to begin with. This was a favor to Peggy, and she couldn’t even try to sit beside me so I’m not all alone? I’m tired, I’m annoyed, I’m overwhelmed, and I’m so fucking lonely I could cry. I just want to go home. I stand up with my half full drink and walk over to the bar to give it back to the bartender. He asks wordlessly if I want another, but I shake my head no. A quick trip to the bathroom to look just slightly less pathetic, and I’m headed home to the cat. She’s good at helping me get through this loneliness. And she’ll listen to my work stories till kingdom come. Maybe she’s my best friend. I could do a lot worse.

I text Peggy to let her know I’m leaving. She must have her phone right in her hand because she responds quickly with “I’m really sorry this got so overwhelming. Steve said let’s go out with a few friends… I didn’t realize he meant half the city of New York. Let me know when you get home, I’ll take you to breakfast in the morning. <3.” I’m really fucking sad right now because Peggy dragged me here tonight, but it’s not her fault her boyfriend’s teammates and friends are assholes. She’s a good one. I could do a lot worse.

I finish up my primping and leave the bathroom, hearing the voices and music of the crowd. There are so many people here, but at least the hallway to the bathrooms is relatively sparce and somehow tints the noise of the place.

I hear a soft clearing of the throat, and someone say, “what did Tony do?” I look up to see one of Steve’s friends who just left the other bathroom. He was two seats down from me and the only one not groping women fans and getting their flirt on (though, not because he didn’t have options). He’s definitely handsome. They all are. And most of them seem to know it. Not an excuse for being an asshole. I am briefly stunned into silence, though, by the gorgeous blue eyes that are staring into mine. They aren’t snarky or smirky or looking for an ego boost. These are incredibly kind eyes that match a small smile and faint blushed cheeks of a man who just nervously shoved his hands in his jean pockets.

He continues, “I was just…you didn’t finish your story out there and I wanted to know what Tony did. He sounds kind of wild.” He clarified nervously, shifting on his feet. I, however, am winning the award for best statue impersonator. I haven’t moved. Or stopped looking in his eyes. When he ducks his head and mutters a small “sorry,” and starts to walk away looking rather embarrassed I’m jolted to life.

“Oh! Yeah he is wild. Sorry, didn’t think anyone was listening.” My turn to shuffle my feet nervously and, being without pockets (fuck you, women’s fashion) I wring my hands together. “But yeah, Tony just completely dropped the client, no questions asked. It was not the reaction I expected.” I finish my story half-heartedly, already kind of forgetting where I had left off and not knowing where I lost the crowds interest.  

This guy though doesn’t miss a beat. “What?! That’s crazy, he just turned the client down?” Must be a lucrative company if he can just turn away people like that.” Wow. So he was listening. Why didn’t I notice that, then? I looked around. Pointedly. Trying to find one person interested in the story. It was kind of a blur of bodies and noise, but I don’t recall seeing these gorgeous eyes on mine—that, I would have remembered.

“Yeah,” I shrug, still feeling rather defeated, “that’s Tony. Well, thanks for letting me finish, I guess, I’m just gonna…” I point to the hallway exit leading back to the crowd.

He cuts in before I can walk away. “Sorry Brock was such an asshole to you. He’s always doing that to people, its really shitty. I wish I got to sit next to you though so I could look at you while you talked, so you knew I was listening, but it’s so loud in there I had to lean in ear forward.” That explains why he wasn’t looking then. He’s explaining to me that he was listening. That’s nice. Much too kind for someone who looks like that. Might make me do something foolish, like fall hopelessly in love. “I hate these things. Steve promised this would be a small gathering, but Brock heard we were going out, tweeted about it and suddenly every baseball fan in New York is here.”

“You know Steve?” That’s a stupid question, they are on the same team.

He doesn’t make me feel stupid for asking it, though (again, the nerve), “yeah, he’s my best friend. He wanted me to come out tonight to meet his new girlfriend. We barely got to talk though because,” he gestures wryly to the crowd and noise.

“Oh, Peggy! She’s my friend and roommate and made me come out tonight to meet her new boyfriend Steve, but” I mimic his gesture about the environment of the place.  

“Y/N! Yes, Steve told me you’d be here!” His eyes light up with recognition. “I didn’t realize you were her, that she is you.” He flounders and gives himself a contemplative cringe at his words. Great. He’s cute and awkward too.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Bucky.” He extends his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you,” I reply honestly. In the span of a two minute conversation I am feeling so much better. It really just takes some genuine kindness to make someone feel good about themselves. And it costs us nothing. Kindness, truly, costs us nothing.

He continues to shuffle his feet and bury his hands in his pocket. “So…are you leaving?” He asks after eyeing me clutch my crossbody purse.

“Yeah, this really isn’t my scene.”

He blows out a breath, “mine either.”

“Really? Aren’t you used to crowds and noise being a famous baseball player and all?”

“You’d think I’d have gotten used to it by now but no, I really hate these kinds of things. On a field is one thing—I’m focused on the game, doing my job without loads of strangers breathing down my neck or trying to sit on my lap.”

I cringe on his behalf, “yeah, that does sound suffocating.”

He looks at me for a long moment. “Are you set on going home? I didn’t actually get to eat anything here, and a few blocks down is a great whole in the wall type place with some great food.”

Did I actually fall in the bathroom and hit my head on the sink? No other logical explanation for what is happening to me right now. Let’s recap: gorgeous, hunky baseball player with kind eyes and disarming mannerisms who not only listened to my story but asked me to finish it is asking me out to a late dinner because he, too, is exhausted from this place stuffed to the brim with his adoring fans? He wants to go out with me? I am statue again. When he, again, looks away with a blush and embarrassment coating his cheeks I snap back to life and say, almost too loudly, “yes! Let me text Peggy really quick to let her know!”

He gets an adorable grin on his face, which introduces me to his left cheek dimple (aka the eighth wonder of the world) (also, the audacity), and says “great! Let me go grab my jacket and we can go!”

He rushes back to the table, as best he can in the sea of people, and I text Peggy my change in plans. She responds, again almost instantly, “I knew you two would hit it off! I was worried you didn’t get to meet because of the crowd. He comes highly recommended by Steve, who is highly recommended by me, so have fun!!! Text when you get home or need anything <3.”

“Also, Steve told Bucky he doesn’t expect him home tonight then smacked his ass when he walked away. Just letting you know. Steve’s a matchmaker sometimes.” I read from Peggy. I reply, “lol we both know that won’t happen but nice to know you found a fellow matchmaker to share your heart with :).”

Bucky comes back, jacket in hand, with a sheepish grin and a blush on his cheeks that mimics a sunburn. “All good?” I ask.

“Oh yeah just Steve being a punk, as usual,” he tried to deflect with a roll of his eyes but is still pretty flushed.

“Ready?” Bucky asks.

“Yes!” I reply, completely surprised but not at all disappointed when Bucky grabs my hand to lead me to the front of the restaurant, then doesn’t let go, as he leads us down the street. What a night it has been, truly upsetting but then all turned around by a little kindness and maybe a genuine connection with a great person.