She  Isn't  Someone  Who  Flusters  Easily.  Could  Withstand  The  Force  Of  A  Thousand 

indefinite hiatus.

🌶️ SC // @weaponid ( bucky )

she  wasn't  entirely  sure  what  parts  of  herself  were  even  human  anymore.  she's nothing  but  want  and  wreckage  spinning  out  of  control.  her  mind  a  cruel  reverie,  reflections  of  war  plastered  across  her  psyche,  gunfire,  blood,  mistakes  she  couldn't  fix.  if  bloodletting  worked,  she'd  have  knelt  in  a  pool  of  poison,  waiting  until  every  drop  was  expelled  from  her  veins.  instead,  she's  here  with  her  head  tilted  back,  throat  exposed  like  a  doe  with  carnivorous  teeth,  presenting  the  prize  of  willful  subjugation.  wild  eyes  pleading  from  where  she's  draped  across  his  sturdy  thighs.

❛ take  it,  take  it  all  from  me,  please.  ❜  control.  unspoken  and  kept  in  the  way  she  whines  like  a  battered  hound  of  war  asking  to  be  put  down.  gloria  hates  herself  for  it,  how  slick  and  hungry  the  prospect  of  ruination  makes  her.  the  desperation  louder  than  the  ragged  edge  of  a  breath  she  couldn't  catch.  enough  that  her  body  counters  vulnerability  by  drawing  blood  from  his  lips  with  her  teeth.  enough  that  her  palm  flattens  and  cracks  along  his  jaw  to  initiate  a  surge  of  pain  she  craves  tenfold.  ❛ all  of  it,  bucky.  ❜  claws  threading  through  his  hair,  pulling  and  soothing  over  all  at  once.  she  ground  down  onto  him,  rough  and  frantic,  chasing  the  sharp-edged  friction.  chasing  the  violent  shudder  that  tore  up  her  spine.  ❛ please.  ❜

30.     netflix watch history.  // HCS @pittmade

her  hand  lingers  on  his  chest  longer  than  it  should.  like  she’s  not  sure  whether  she’s  holding  him  BACK  or  holding  him  UP.  the  heat  beneath  her  palm  is  blistering,  not  from  his  rage,  no...she’s  felt  that  before,  watched  it  shatter  men  like  glass.  it's  something  older,  deeper  —  that  relentless  ache  between  them  that  never  stops,  only  roots  and  blooms  stronger  than  the  last  time.  there's  nothing  made  of  coldness  in  her  eyes,  they  never  are  with  him  and  maybe  that's  part  of  why  she's  letting  it  all  CRUSH  her.  they’re  tired,  though.  tired  in  that  bone-deep  way  that  comes  from  years  of  standing  just  outside  the  life  she  maybe  could’ve  had  by  some  shift  of  luck.  but  that's  not  made  for  people  like  her,  rewards  for  unforgivable  deeds.  ❛  no...  fuck,  i  don't  know!  ❜

and  there  it  is.  that  band  hitting  the  dim  lighting  just  enough  to  coax  every  bit  of  guilt  eating  her  from  the  inside  out  to  the  surface.  gloria  stares,  choking  down  penance  and  letting  the  barbed  wire  cut  into  her  throat.  the  worst  part  was  that  it  never  stopped  her.  not  once.  she  pulls  her  hand  back,  cradling  it  like  a  third-degree  burn  against  her  chest.  a  step  back,  but  it  doesn't  matter  how  far  she  goes,  he'll  always  HAUNT  her  and  she'll  always  let  him.  ❛  i  don't  know  what  to  do,  you're  not  mine.  ❜  the  fight  in  her  voice  is  gone,  and  what's  left  is  so  much  worse.  a  quiet  devastation,  worn  thin  at  the  edges.  trembled  in  dewy  honey  eyes,  her  arms  thrown  up  with  a  defeat  she  can't  escape.  she  could  imagine  it  as  some  surge  of  fading  adrenaline,  from  de-escalating  impending  dread.  from  the  even  more  fucked  up  part  of  her  that  wanted  frank  to  pummel  that  handsy  fuck  into  the  dirt.  but  it's  so  much  more  than  that.  ❛  i  don't  do  it  to  hurt  you.  ❜  almost  a  plea,  entirely  mournful.  ❛  i  have  to  remind  myself  that  there's  a  world  outside  of  you,  frank,  cause  if  i  don't,  i'll  keep  drowning  in  you.  ❜

anger   doesn't   just   simmer   inside   him,   it   boils   over   —    violent,   clawing   at   his   chest   like   something   alive.    one   minute   he's   nursing   a   drink   with   the   squad,   laughter   buzzing   around   him.    the   next,   he   spots   the   brunette   locked   in   some   stranger's   orbit,   their bodies too close.    he   watches   the   guy's   hand   slide   from   her   arm   to   the   curve   of   her   waist,   and   something   in   him   snaps.    now,   he’s   the   center   of   gravity   —   surrounded   by   too   many   eyes,   all   waiting   for   the   kind   of   show   that   starts   with   a   punch   and   ends   with   smears of blood on the asphalt.   it   doesn't   come   to   that,   thanks   to   gloria.

palm   pressed   to   his   chest,   he   tears   his   gaze   from   the   man   walking   away   and   leans   back   against   the   wall,   shaking   his   head   like   it   might   clear   the   heat   rising   in   his   throat.    the words are there,   coiled   tight,   but   they   won’t   come   out — not   when   she’s   looking   at   him   like   that,   not   with   the   weight   of   the   ring   on   his   finger.    “    what   do   you   mean   i   can't?    what   the   hell   do   you   want   me   to   do,   gloria?   you   want   me   to   sit   back   and   smile   while   he   has   his   hands   all   over   you?.     ”    right   now,   he   wishes   the   other   guy   would've   swung   at   him.    it would've given him a   reason   to   let   the   poison   out,   to   crack   his   knuckles   on   his   skull   and   stake   his   claim   on   her,   somehow.    “    why   do   you   always   gotta   do   that   shit   in   front   of   me.     ”    the   anger’s   still   there,   but   it’s   dulled   now — muted   by   something   heavier.    that   quiet,   bitter   frustration   he   saves   for   himself.    the   kind   he’s   been   carrying   too   long, the kind that keeps him up at night with the thought of her.

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 .    (  a collection of  mixed action prompts.   adjust phrasing as desired.   potentially mature content within.  )

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

[ 30. ] sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; "what are you gonna do about it?"

honey  gaze  scours  the  delicate  clutter  of  tools.  all  foreign  to  her  knowledge  and  oddly  comforting,  as  if  by  some  extension  of  who  he  was  could  quell  pockets  of  unrest.  the  tightness  in  her  chest  loosened,  just  a  little.  she  keeps  so  many  horrors  there,  unearthed  like  a  vandalized  mausoleum.  gloria  follows  the  sound  of  his  voice,  leans  back  into  the  warmth  of  his  presence  behind  her.  her  fingers  hover  over  the  spools  before  settling  on  one  —  a  dusky  blue,  like  the  swirling  sky  of  a  storm.

❛ this  one.  ❜  she  murmurs,  voice  low  enough  to  keep  it  steady.  gloria  focused  on  the  feel  of  it,  every  sensation  of  lips  adorning  skin  and  distracting  racing  thoughts.  ❛ don't  go  too  easy  on  me.  ❜

@medicbled

"here, let me show you something." voice and touch are gentle yet firm as he ushers them to his work desk and tugs gloria down, wooden office chair squeaking in protest under their combined weight. before them stands a rotary vise fixed around a fishing hook and a collection of colorful threads, feathers, flash, and beads kept in organized chaos. there's a storm brewing in that head of hers and this method, distraction and redirection, has always been effective in quieting his own busy mind.

"we'll do an easy one," josef begins, reassurance offered in the form of a squeeze and pecks against the slope of her shoulder between sentences. "pick a thread."

EDITS// dr. gloria de lima ( mutuals my reblog )

Said you need some extra magic today, you can boop the snoot under the cut!

Rico says stay hydrated, take breaks and get yourself a sweet treat

❛ i  could  have  been  easier  on  you. ❜  admittance  turned  over,  softly  spun  by  the  same  bedside  manner  she'd  developed  since  her  FAREWELL  TO  ARMS.  she  shrugs  gently  and  twists  around  in  the  exam  room,  prepping  her  station  for  sutures.  concern  knits  her  brows,  a  thousand  questions  hiding,  but  nothing  said.  what  bar?  how  far  his  mouth  ran  before  the  fist  hit?  how  many  punches  he  got  in? 

lyrical sc//@frthestars ( bradley )