Emotional Hurt - Tumblr Posts

Today officially marks 7 haunting and excruciating years since Buck last saw his sister and he doesn’t need to step out of bed to know today is going to be one hell of a day, his 12-hour shift at the fire station looming not far ahead.

Buck doesn’t want to be alone anyway if he’s honest, because then his mind will be stuck in an endless loop of what-ifs and how he could have stopped his sister from walking out the door that morning for school just to never come home again. It would constantly play on repeat the last time he saw her at only 13 years old, how she hugged him goodbye and told him she loved him and would be home to see him off the school bus.

On October 8th, 7 years ago today, Maddie Buckley walked out the front door to her home, and she never returned.

A Band of Gold|G|2.5k Words

Read on AO3

Fandom: 9-1-1

Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Eddie Diaz & Isabel Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Eddie Diaz & Abuelo|Eddie Diaz's Grandfather (9-1-1 TV)

Characters: Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Isabel Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Abuelo | Eddie Diaz's Grandfather (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley

Tags: Mentioned Helena Diaz (9-1-1 TV),Mentioned Ramon Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Mentioned Shannon Diaz, Wedding Rings, Family Fluff, Family, Family Feels, Eddie Diaz Needs a Hug (9-1-1 TV), Upset Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Past Eddie Diaz/Shannon Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, Hurt Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Emotionally Hurt Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Emotional Hurt

Summary: Eddie and his abuelo’s wedding band. A history of love and acceptance.

THE SILENT SHOUT || PART I

A/N: my best friend has been diagnosed as borderline. Currently I have an occasion to spend a lot of time with him, I am also a witness of his anxiety and panic attacks, of his rage outbursts and incertitude, which is overhelming him on and on. Looking at him one day a thought came up to my mind: if BPD can be caused by some traumatic experiences, maybe Bucky was suffering to similar symptoms also. After all things Hydra had done to him, I suppose he might likely suffered from this disorder. That’s why I decided to make a little series of bpd!Bucky. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. Based on a true events.

Words: 1624

Warnings: self harming, panic attack, bpd, angst, bpd!Bucky, sad!Bucky, depression, blood, graphic description of violence, swearing

Author: Rouge

It has been a week since he moved to your house.

From the very beginning you were more worried than happy about that idea of Steve. Despite your positive attitude towards Bucky, you good knew he may cause a lot of problems.

But on the other hand you understood what Steve has been going through for last couple of years. Notorious uncertainty, sadness, sorrow. He was a mess and you wanted to do anything to comfort him.

When you heard that Shield finally found Bucky, alive, you felt a deep relief. It meant the end of Steve’s mental pain. It meant that since then everything could have been seen only in a bright colors.

When Steve came to you with his idea of taking Bucky to your common house, you didn’t even try to hide your dissatisfaction. A lot of arguments had taken place then in between two of you. But finally Steve managed to melt your heart and you said yes.

However, keeping the good of your child in your mind, you ensured Steve that if something wrong will about to happen, you will move out, taking baby with you. He agreed on that little deal without blinking.

You had to reconcile with a fact your man was sharing his love at three, not only at two… It obviously was hurting you, sometimes Bucky seemed to be Steve’s number one, but you had to accept it. They were friends since childhood, they grew up together, they were fighting together, arm to arm. In such situation you could do nothing. You didn’t want to hurt Steve by your listlessness at Bucky’s problems. You knew that man went through a lot in his life. Like Steve, Bucky Barnes was only a pawn in that brutal game. Like everyone of you…

When you met him for the first time since 5 years, you were shocked.

He looked incredibly good, some bruises still could have been seen at his muscular arm and neck, few scars on his collarbones, a swollen jaw. But he looked good as for someone who has been tortured for months.

But something had changed and you easily felt that.

His eyes.

There were no more happiness in them. That beautiful blue eyes of his, which were glowing with a mischief sparks formerly, now were dark and bereft the will of life.

“Y/N! Can you hold the door please!?” Steve screamed aloud.

You got up from the leather sofa in living room and quickly went to open the door. As soon as you did, you saw several boxes and a bit of Steve’s bangs above them.

“Do you need help?” you asked amicably, opening doors as wide as you could.

“No, dear, just hold on them” Steve said. Slowly and carefully he passed through the threshold and put boxes down in the hallway.

You were observing him for a while, then you sight fell on someone standing in front of the door.

James Bucky Barnes.

Standing there dressed in a large black leather jacket, dark jeans and grey shirt, with a black hat on his head, Bucky slowly raised his chin and looked briefly into your eyes.

“Hi, Y/N” he gave you a small smile, a little wince appeared on his face.

“Bucky” you smiled happily, whispering his name and taking step back to make a space for him. “Come in, come in.”

Hesitantly he walked inside and then you closed the door behind him making sure they were locked.

“Follow me” you gave him another smile and you led him to the large living room.

 It was the biggest room in Steve’s house. One wall had windows and door leading to a big balcony. The room was painted in light orange mixed with lime. The floorboards were made of pear tree wood that had a nice, warm shade. There was a brownish carpet with an abstractive pattern in the middle of the room. Steve had fitted your common living room with stylish furniture. There was a big dark brown leather corner sofa on the left. It had light brow cushions. In front of it, there was an ebony coffee table with sculptured legs and edges. There also were two brown armchairs. The table were placed on the carpet. Next to the sofa, there was a tall lamp which metal parts were coloured patina gold. Opposite to the sofa there was a big plasma TV standing on a stand similar to the coffee table. Below the TV there was a black DVD player. Right to it, an ebony case with clouded glass doors could be found. There also was a small showcase where you put some books, films and wine glasses. Above the sofa there was a wide painting showing a stunning sunset on a seaside. The windows were decorated with a short white delicate curtain and fantasy yellow drape. On the windowsill, there standed a flowerpot with an orchid. Next to it there was a picture frame with a photo made on your vacation in Dubai. The room was really warm and cosy.

 “Do you want to drink something?” you asked politely when Bucky sat on the sofa. “Coffee, please…” he looked at you and took his hat off, placing it next to him.

 You walked to the kitchen and put a kettle on a stove. Suddenly you felt a pair of familiar strong hands at your slim waist.

“Thank you…” Steve whispered directly into your ear, leaning down to kiss your cheek from behind. “It means a lot not only to me, Y/N.” “I know, Steve” you gave a slight nod and slowly turned your head towards him so you could reach his rough lips and kissed them.

Steve hummed happily at the unexpected kiss, his grasp got tighten around your waist.

With an agile movement you slipped out of his arms, pecking his lips.

“He is my friend too, Steve” you said, pouring a boiling water to the cup with black coffee. “It was obvious I’ll say yes in a respond to your idea” you shrugged slightly. “I was and am still worried about Sebastian, our child.” you lifted your chin and sadly glanced at Steve.

He rubbed his chin.

“I know… But he is working on those… Outbursts..” Captain sighed deeply. “Okay. I will move boxes to his room. They are still blocking the passage through the corridor” he let out a quiet giggle before he left kitchen.

 You took a cup of coffee and came back to the living room.

“Here you go” you put the cup on the table, smiling at Bucky and taking a seat in one of the armchairs. “So… How are you, Buck? You look magnificent” you smirked warmly, crossing your legs.

“I’m doing good lately” he took a sip of coffee, humming in an approval of the bitter taste. “You’re a real coffee master, Y/N.”

You laughed shortly.

“Oh, thank you! Charming as always, Buck!” you winked at him.

He woke up in the middle of the night.

For a while he was laying motionless on his back, glaring up at ceiling.

Then he slowly got up. When he was walking towards bathroom, he could feel a chill at his bare legs and torso. He had only his black boxers on.

He entered the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind him, trying not to make any sounds which could woke you and Steve up.

Bucky stared at the scars lining his right wrist, observing it as if from a great distance. Other days he would count them and their meanings, one for every time they'd hurt him. Every time he hated himself for lying to people he loved. But it was so easy, too easy for him to promise them that he had taken the antidepressants.  And now, feeling the scars beneath his fingers, Bucky could picture it so vividly that he could feel each sharp intake of breath, each tear that slid from his pale skin. As the bathtub faucet ran cold water over his neck and the blade glowed crimson beneath his clumsy fingers, his head would tilt back, his mouth open in silent agony but also perverse joy, because he knew that he should not be feeling this, doing this, enjoying this as he did. And his anger exploded with each swift movement of the razor, his pain that so often destroyed him coating the floor of the tub in sickening contrast to the pale tile.  He remembered kneeling on this same floor, attacking his biceps until he could take it no longer and fell back, exhausted, against the bathroom cabinet. It was few weeks ago, when Steve agreed to doss him when he escaped the hospital run by Shield. The urge was so strong that he clenched his fists to keep from reaching for the blade. It was so tempting. So painfully tempting. Bucky thought desperately of his wrist again, aching to feel sadness for the delicate skin that he so readily destroyed. He forced his fingers to stay on the shining tiles, but so eager was he for the pain.. And he cut the skin once again, observing like a little stream of redness was pouring down, mixing with a cold water at his feet. He felt like his skin was burning under the touch of a cold razor, he felt a bit dizzy because of the blood which was flowing out of the cut. Bucky chuckled nervously, but it turned into breathless weeping. He stayed here as long as he had to, until the urge was gone. Because he had to fight this and he knew that. Because of the five words he kept repeating in his mind, kept vowing, swearing to himself. 

I won’t draw blood tonight.