You Know The Vibes

Yall asked, I’m answering. Watch this space.

[psychzzz]

I was wondering, did you take your fanfic down, or what. I would love to read yours!!

The one on TikTok is mine!! :)

It was stolen and posted onto Tumblr by another user unfortunately.

[girlwithadragonheart]

PSA

Stealing written (or otherwise) work from other creators is absolutely unacceptable, and it always has been.

I thought the post had looked familiar, but I couldn’t place why it felt like I had read it before. A few minutes after I reblogged it, I got a DM from someone.

Oh! That explains a lot.

The creator, @madi34487 (link to their blog) has taken the work of this lovely person from TikTok and reposted it as their own. When it was pointed out, it was obvious in the formatting of the post and the general nature of the writing itself—it wasn’t written for tumblr.

Moreover, when confronted about plagiarism and asked to take it down, they refused and blocked the original creator.

Guys what are we doing???

It’s the big ‘26, we cannot let this happen. All forms of plagiarism are unacceptable. This is what kills fandoms. I will not sit by and watch it happen on our beloved hellsite.

Okay thankssss!! I’m sure the writing theft has blocked me by the time this is posted as I left the same message on my reblog.

The fic title is: Love Me Instead.

[psychzzz]

Edit since a lot of people aren’t reading this properly: THE TIKTOK VIDEO IS MINE!! The writing IS MINE! It was stolen by someone and reposted HERE to tumblr, not the other way around 😭

Hi all! I hate to be coming on here and doing this but unfortunately there is an account who has decided to steal my work and block me when called out for it.

Their account is @madi34487 and they have word for word stolen one of my TikTok headcanons and posted it here on tumblr as their own work.

This is mine, posted on TikTok 2 days ago.

Then theirs, posted last night on here.

If this person had been honest, owned up and deleted the post I wouldn’t have taken this further.

However blocking me and refusing to take the post down tells me they are likely guilty of doing this with all their writing.

I know I’m not well in the resident evil community on here yet, but I would really appreciate some help/people standing by here to make sure this person does not get any more support for stolen works.

I am saddened it has come to me having to make posts on all my socials, but alas, that is the world we live in.

[psychzzz]

The quiet moments of vulnerability - Steve Harrington x reader

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Authors note - it’s been a while since I’ve written anything but Headcanons. This might be a little rusty

Steve Harrington was good at pretending. He had always been good at pretending. Pretending he was happy. Pretending he was normal. Pretending he didn’t hate every aspect of his life in high school.

Around you, pretending isn’t quite as easy as it used to be. You’re observant, almost annoyingly so, and Steve feels as if his usual approach of confidence, half truths and changing the subject just… doesn’t work.

“You ok?” You’ll ask the second his shoulders slump. “Let’s get some air,” you’ll suggest halfway through a movie when you notice his hands shaking. “You can tell me anything,” You insist, and Steve swears on his life he’s never met anyone as persistent and stubbornly caring as you are.

Yet, no matter how persistent you are, he rarely caves. Throws around an “I’m fine” or “Don’t sweat it, I’m just tired,” because that’s all he knows. Someone noticing, someone caring, it’s not something he knows how to manage. To deal with.

There are moments. Moments he lets those walls down. Moments he really is too tired to fight the monsters in his head. Moments where he walks in the door after a long day of coaching baseball and just collapses into your arms.

Today? Today was one of those moments.

“Oh, Stevie…” His head rests against your neck, where he’d practically smothered you on the couch the second he got home. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

His breath seems to hitch at your question. His thoughts race. What is wrong? Does he even know himself? How is he supposed to put something he barely understands into words that make sense?

There’s silence for a while. A few minutes of thinking and laying in the moment. Then-

“I’m tired,” Steve whispers, his voice cracking in a way that makes your chest feel hollow.

“Yeah?” You ask softly, because you both know there’s more. That ‘tired’ means more. His heavy tone tells you so.

“I- I’m exhausted. All the time. And- and I feel like I’m stuck, you know? Like everyone’s moving on and I’m stuck. Like- like everyone’s fine and I’m just fucked up or something.”

You have to take a moment to fully digest his words. Have to think for a second to make sure you respond in a way that won’t make this worse.

“You… You think everyone else is fine?” Keeping the disbelief from your tone is difficult, but you can tell Steve hears it anyway when you feel his face scrunch up against your neck. Frustrated.

“Well, yeah.” He answers, his voice strained just slightly, irritation filtering through. Not aimed at you. At himself. “Everyone’s… happy. Nancy is doing her fancy reporter stuff, Robin is like an activist icon, Johnathan is making movies and shit, even Dustin has up and left me-“ He cuts himself off, clearing his throat “Left for uh, for college. Everyone’s moving on. Making something of their lives. And me? What am I doing? Teaching sex ed and coaching a bunch of brats who stink at baseball.”

“You love those kids.” Is your first response, because he does. He adores every part of his job, has told you and the others many times. But you also know he has these moments. Moments where he feels left behind. Abandoned and afraid. You’re well aware it stems from a childhood of constantly being left alone, and that thought destroys you. “No one is leaving you, you know that, right?”

Steve is far too silent for far too long.

Gently, you wind a hand through his hair and pull him up so you can see his face. The sight makes you nearly whine in sympathy.

You can count, on one hand, the number of times you’d seen your boyfriend cry. Every single time broke your heart just a little bit more.

“Stevie… no one is leaving you, baby. I swear. No one is leaving you behind. You hear me?” You insist, lips chasing the tear tracks on his cheeks, trying desperately to soothe him. His shoulders shake under the hand that isn’t in his hair, and there’s a noise suspiciously like a sob leaving his lips.

“I- I’m so afraid,” He cries, burying his face against your shoulder once more. You let him, because it’s clear he needs it now more than ever. A quiet comfort.

“Afraid of what, Steve? I can’t understand unless you tell me,” you whisper softly. Steve sniffles against your skin, shaking so violently you could swear the couch is moving beneath you too.

After a second, his voice cracks as he whimpers, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Deep down, you know that’s Steve’s greatest fear. Losing his loved ones, some way or another. Not being enough for them. You curse the Harrington’s for not giving more of a shit about their son growing up. Maybe if they’d been present, Steve wouldn’t be as afraid now.

“You aren’t alone. Not ever,” You whisper, kissing the side of his head with an adoring sigh “Nancy, Robin, Johnathan, Dustin? They’re all a phone call away, Steve. You know they’ll always pick up. And if you need them, they’ll always show up. You know they all call like, 50 times if they don’t hear from you for a couple of days?”

Steve blinks, lifting his head to look at you with slight doubt in his gaze. “What, why?” He asks, as if he doesn’t know. As if he really doesn’t understand how loved he is.

“Because they worry about you, Steve. Because they love you. Because they want to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and ok,” you respond, a gentle smile gracing your lips at the way he goes wide eyed.

“Really? They say all that?” His voice cracks again, but not with sadness this time. With overwhelming joy.

“They do. They ask at least a million questions, especially Robin and Dustin, then tell me to make sure you know they love you. Dustin says you need to plan another road trip soon, by the way. He called earlier. Says you promised him.” Your words seem to cheer Steve up a little, as he finally, finally smiles.

“I’m sorry,” He says sheepishly, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw. “For- For being so weird. It’s just been a rough day.”

The look you give Steve could literally kill. He winces, rolling his eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah. No apologising for having feelings. I know.”

“Then stop doing it,” You hum, soothing his hair back as you watch him carefully. “Can I say something, and you’ll promise not to shut it down straight away?”

Steve eyes you sceptically, but slowly nods, unsure whilst he wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Uh, go ahead I guess?”

“I think you need to talk to someone.” Well. Steve wasn’t quite expecting that. It kind of makes his heart rate pick up, nearing that panicked state again.

“I- why? I talk. I talk to you. All the time,” Steve argues. He does. He talks a lot. And he knows exactly what you mean, but that doesn’t mean he can’t play dumb for a minute.

“Steve, come on. You barely talk to me. Not about what’s bothering you. And I completely get it, because it’s trauma. Yeah, trauma we all went through, but we all feel it in different ways. I see a therapist you know. It isn’t as scary as you think,” you promise, your thumb coming up to caress his cheekbone “In fact, almost everyone in the group sees someone. Except you.”

Steve knows that. Of course he knows that. Dustin had been on his ass for months about seeing someone. So had Nancy, and Robbin, and- ok yeah, maybe Steve was a bit of a wreck. “What if it doesn’t help?” He mumbles, vulnerability finally shining through.

“Then we find something that does,” the promise isn’t a perfect solution, but it’s all you’ve got. All you can do, really. There’s only so much help you can give to Steve, alongside your unconditional love. “So… what do you think?”

He takes a second to mill it over before he grunts, “I think I’ll hate it. But- but I’ll try. If you want me to.”

“I want you to do it for you, Steve. Because you want to get better. You do want that, don’t you?” The question also holds some amount of vulnerability. A silent ‘Are you really stuck, or can we get you out of this mess together?’

He stares for a minute. Then another. Then, with the utmost care, he presses his lips to yours and says “I want to get better.”

It’s not confident. It’s not perfect. It’s not the best answer in the world. But it’s start, and really? That’s all that you need.

[psychzzz]

I want this, I want you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING!! Talk of SA, rape and non consensual acts. Talk of sex used as torture. angst, fluff, the start of sex. Heavy petting, talking about sex.

Words: 500+

Winding your hands into Bucky’s hair, you try and get into the moment, sat in his lap with his tongue exploring your own.

But something felt off. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Don’t get you wrong, it was good. Great. Both of you were into it, you could feel he was enjoying himself - pressed against your thigh. But he just seemed… vacant. Not there. Especially whenever your hand went to wander below his chest.

To test your theory, you try again. Distracting him with a twist of your hips, you attempt to touch him below the belt, and sigh when he swiftly grabs your hand and brings it back to his hair - feigning need.

“Bucky”

You pull back with a soft frown. His face is flushed, red and hot, but like you thought he’s not fully there. Is more so looking through you, than at you.

“Ok, no. No more. I don’t feel comfortable”

You mumble, trying to get off of his lap. Bucky seems to snap back into reality, his hands coming to quickly grab your waist and pull you back.

“No no no no no, Y/n, I’m sorry. I want this. I do. Sorry”

He rubs a hand over the skin peeking out past your waistband, his eyes full of guilt and the slightest bit of anxiety.

“I just- I got lost in my head”

His tone is full of stress, making your own heart ache slightly. Was something wrong, and he just hadn’t told you?

“I think we need to take a second”

You finally decide, sitting back and crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky looks shaken, near distraught, and it catches you off guard.

“What the hell is going on, Bucky? Talk to me”

This isn’t something you’ve ever seen from him before. Fear to touch. He was usually bold with you - at least, after the first time. This was new territory.

“It’s- it’s just-“

It’s clear Bucky is struggling, so you wait patiently. Give him time.

“Zemo”

He finally gets out, making you furrow your brows.

“Zemo?”

“Yeah”

Ok. Alright. Zemo. Let’s try to understand this.

“What about Zemo, exactly?”

You query, trying to get to the bottom of what Bucky was saying.

“It’s- something he said. In that- that club, place, whatever it was. When he was.. making me pretend to be the soldier again”

Your blood boils slightly at his words, but you try to stay calm. Supportive.

“And what, exactly, did he say?”

Bucky winces, in a way that’s clear this is hard for him to talk about. To rehash.

“That- that the client could use me, essentially. That I’d do or be whatever they wanted”

He says quietly, eyes falling shut as he seems to get lost in memories.

“That part of what they did to me I- I blocked out, you know?”

Your blood runs cold. What?

“What part of what they did to you? What are you talking about?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes shoot open, looking at you like you’d said something ludicrous.

“You know because.. because they did use me. HYDRA. As.. as a body. As a thing. For-“

His voice breaks slightly.

“For sex”

The feeling in your chest is something you can’t even put into words. It’s like a black hole just opened there - sucking any and all breath from your lungs, and ripping your heart straight from its cavity. You knew HYDRA were monsters, knew they’d done unspeakable things to Bucky, but this? This seemed… pure evil. It made your brain come to a halt.

“They assaulted you?”

You whisper in shock.

“They… raped you?”

Bucky’s face turns cold at the question, eyes narrowing.

“I hate that word”

He admits. But the words are heavy. As if he’s thought about this a lot before, but never voiced it out loud. It breaks your heart.

“It makes me feel- like a victim”

“Bucky”

You say softly, cupping his jaw and staring deep into his eyes.

“You are a victim. And victim ain’t- it’s not a dirty word. It doesn’t define you”

The words you speak are desperate - trying to bring comfort to your clearly suffering boyfriend. Bucky stares at you, as if trying and struggling to believe you, but eventually nods, gaze softening.

“I’m more than that though”

He says softly, as if unsure. As if trying to convince both you and himself.

“More than what they did to me”

His words make you smile sadly, and you nod, teary eyed.

“You are. Of course you are. You’re James Buchanan Barnes - strongest, bravest most amazing man I’ve ever met. You make me damn proud to be with you, every single day. I love you”

You’re rambling, and you know you are, but this new information has made you feel a lot of emotions - overwhelming love being the top one.

Bucky seems to understand that you’re just trying to be there for him, so he smiles softly, hands coming to rest on your hips and squeezing.

“I thought you knew”

He whispers into the silence after a moment, forehead rested against yours from where you’d pulled him close.

“I thought you knew what they’d done. Thought- thought everyone knew”

“I didn’t”

You assure him softly. The way he breathes a sigh of relief tells you that it’s ok that you didn’t know. That he’s just happy you know now. It’s another few minutes of silence, of thoughts swirling around, before he speaks again. This time with a gentle tone, soft and loving.

“I- I want to touch you”

He mumbles softly.

“I do. It’s just- a lot, right now. And I dont- I don’t know what I need. Or can do. So can we just-“

He struggles to put his feelings into words, but you’re so happy he’s trying, so proud, that you sit back and listen intently.

“Can we go slow? Im sorry, I know it ain’t ideal-“

You cut him off there.

“Don’t talk like that. Sex is about both partners feeling completely comfortable, and safe. If one of us doesn’t feel that - then we hit the brakes and reevaluate. It’s completely normal, Bucky, and it’s right. Don’t ever apologise for voicing your needs, ok?”

You tell him firmly. Bucky blinks at you, slightly shocked, before nodding quickly.

“So.. so it’s ok if we don’t, for now?”

The smile that pulls at your lips is filled with nothing but adoration.

“How about cuddling and a movie instead?”

Bucky’s eyes soften, hands pulling you in to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sounds perfect, doll. I love you. So much”

“I love you too, Bucky”

————————————————————————

AN: this is a bit of a Drabble of an idea I just wrote up when I couldn’t sleep. It isn’t perfect, or that great at all. But it’s something I always think about as a Headcanon Ik a lot of you guys have been wanting me to write up some headcanons so

[psychzzz]

Talking ain’t easy.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 500+ (I think)

Warnings : Bit of angst, fluff.

Leading the New Avengers wasn’t easy, and Bucky was struggling in general.

He didn’t, however, anticipate how much his trauma would cause him to struggle even more.

For years Bucky had been forced into silence - punished for voicing his thoughts, speaking in any way at all. And he was convinced it was making him a bad leader.

Why? Because he’s terrified of speaking up. Terrified of giving the New Avengers his suggestions, because some deep, dark part of him is afraid of being punished for it.

Even now, as the team press him for his view, beginning to get irritated with his lack of taking part.

“Barnes, if you cannot come up with a single idea, what is the point of you leading this team?”

Yelena huffs, giving him a look. Bucky wants to argue, he wants to say something, but he can’t. He freezes. All that leaves him is a feigned indifferent grunt, as he drops his head to look at the floor.

“Leave him be, Lena”

You cut in, shocking the entire group. You rarely, if ever, got involved during meetings. You were more of a silent but deadly observer. Yet here you were, standing up for Bucky, of all people.

“Can’t you see he’s trying? Give the guy a damn minute”

Yelena raises an eyebrow at your snappish tone, whilst Bucky stares at you in quiet disbelief. He wasn’t used to you being so… loud, with your thoughts. He’s thankful, though. Your interruption gave him more time to gather his thoughts, and build his courage.

“I uh, I was going to suggest going round the side. The blueprint seems like it shows some kind of tunnel there. Means we can get in and out unnoticed by any enemy agents”

Bucky rambles through his explanation, but surprisingly, all the team agree. It’s a solid plan. A good plan even. One that should work.

“Alright, Barnes. I suppose that isn’t a bad idea”

Yelena chips in, but you can tell by the tone of her voice she’s teasing now. Lighthearted. Bucky needed some lighthearted banter for a minute.

With the plan set in stone, the rest of the New Avengers head out to go get some rest before the mission. But not you, and not Bucky. You stay sat at the meeting table - staring at one another

“You didn’t need to do that”

Bucky clears his throat, shuffling slightly in his chair.

“It wasn’t necessary”

“Well from where I’m sitting, it looked like you could use the support”

You respond with a lopsided smile, something small and private. You stand up, and swiftly cross the room, depositing yourself in Bucky’s lap.

He smiles softly, secretly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Hmm. But if you keep defending me, people are going to get suspicious”

He jokes. You grin, raising your eyebrow and pecking Bucky’s lips.

“Eh, let em talk”

You chuckle, before going serious again, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck with a hum.

“What was that about, anyway? Not talking?”

You enquire. You’d noticed Bucky stayed silent most meetings, but just assumed he had nothing to add. You’d never considered it may be another reason.

Bucky’s face goes dark for a second, before he sighs, rubbing a stressed hand over his eyes.

“Hydra”

He admits quietly, leaning into your touch.

“They- I wasn’t allowed to talk, I guess. And if I ever did, I’d-“

His voice cracks.

“I’d be tortured on the electric chair for days. Punished. Guess it just makes speaking up… hard, now”

The words make your heart ache, so you tug him forward, resting your forehead against his.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. Yelena shouldn’t have pushed”

You mumble. Bucky shrugs, tugging you closer, if possible.

“I’m ok. She couldn’t of known”

Which was true, but still. With a pout, you push his hair back.

“Being afraid to speak up is valid, Bucky. It’s understandable. It ever tire you out, trying?”

You question, genuinely curious. Bucky nods, looking exhausted.

“Right then. How about we go upstairs, get into bed, have a cuddle and talk about whatever you need up there?”

Your suggestion gets Bucky stirring, but he’s clearly unsure. Half afraid. In the end, he gives in.

“Alright. Alright. Let’s go upstairs and talk about my trauma”

He jokes with a soft smirk, making you smile back. You know it’ll be a long night of figuring things out ahead - but you’re glad you get to do it with Bucky, and learn more about his past.

———————————————————

A/N: I am not used to tumblr, so this is just a little Drabble as we get into the swing of things.