#what a stab in the chest it is when he cracks 😭

[redmyeyes]

❝ In the past I held two truths: my love for you, and my love for God. One was real. And one was a fantasy. ❞

Tim rejecting Hawk, 1968 & 1979

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

[facioleeknow]

hi!! saw that you're taking request!! how about something like jeonghan get annoyed by the reader because he thinks reader is too clingy lately so he decided to put some distance, end up with something bad happens to reader and he regrets everything he did? angst to fluff pls thank u so much 😭🫶

Hello, I hope you like this and I hope I did your request justice, I'm sorry for the delay it was a crazy week.

Clingy•Jeonghan

Tw: angst, not proofread, mean Jeonghan, men

Jeonghan was glaring at you. You brought him flowers, a beautiful and delicate bouquet made of pink and lilac flowers that complimented him wonderfully, and he was glaring at you.

 The new comeback was a success thanks to Woozi’s massive effort and the members enormous talent. God of Music was at the top of the charts everywhere and everybody was ecstatic, except your boyfriend apparently. His eyes bore into the side of your skull while you talked to Seungkwan and Vernon, making you fidgety and uncomfortable; even his members were starting to feel that something was wrong with the way he was basically stabbing you with his stare. This wasn't the normal jealousy that Jeonghan always showed when you were spending time with the members and not him.

“Come out for a second,” his stern tone made you slightly jump in your chair out of surprise, his slender fingers wrapped around your forearm tightly and pulled you away from the conversation hurriedly.

Outside of the dressing room Jeonghan loosened his grip on you and then let your forearm fall back into place. He let out a heavy sigh, his hand rose to pinch hard the bridge of his nose.

“Are you alright, honey?” you fussed, a hand coming to rest on his bicep. Jeonghan brushed your hand away and opened his eyes to stare at you. It wasn't a kind stare.

“Who told you to come here?”

Your words died in your throat, his tone was way too harsh and it did things, bad things, to your heart.

“I just thought it would be a good surprise, I'm sorry.”

You don't know what you were apologizing for but it was like a second instinct.

“God you're so clingy, I don't want you here, go home.”

His words shot right through you leaving you cold and empty. Tears started collecting in your eyes.

“Okay, I'll go home,” you whispered with a shaky voice. The bouquet you carefully selected fell on the floor (you actually had to suppress the urge to throw it at him but you were in public). Jeonghan’s eyes widened, realizing way too late what he had done but your eyes were on the floor and you couldn't see his guilty expression.

Everyone in the building was looking at you as you stomped out of the door and into the street. Your eyesight was blurry and your feet proceeded blindly along the sidewalk. Too engulfed in your own pain you didn't see the slightly uneven part of the sidewalk on your path.

CRACK!

Jeonghan went back into the dressing room with a face that spoke way more than words.

“You yelled at her,” said Wonwoo with a less than impressed face. Jeonghan sighed again and let himself fall on the small couch behind him.

“Hyung, you need to stop treating people badly when you're stressed, you know she's sensitive,”  Seungkwan side eyed him.

“I know, I know, I'm going to apologize right now.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and typed out a quick but meaningful text, hoping you would give him a chance to redeem himself but your answer never came.

Even after the show, no answer from you and Jeonghan was starting to worry. Anxiety bubbled in his chest with every breath he took. Just when he was about to ask Seungcheol if he could leave early to go looking for you, his phone screen lit up. It was you.

“Hello?” said Jeonghan urgently.

“I need you to pick me up,” you went straight to the point and didn't even greet him. Not good.

“Okay, where are you?” he asked while putting on a jacket.

“At the hospital. Hurry.”

Jeonghan's heart was at his feet, he had never driven that fast before but he still felt like time was running too fast. As soon as he entered the hospital he spotted you, in the waiting area with a cast on and a crutch. He jogged next to you, the same not impressed expression that Wonwoo always had on you as well, he must've taught you. 

“What happened?!” he asked a little too loudly.

“I broke my heel and then broke my ankle,” your voice was monotone. Really not good.

“You need to look where you're going baby,” he whined.

“I couldn't because I was crying, because someone thought it was fair to treat their girlfriend like trash,” you were definitely making a scene but you didn't care, you weren't the one that had to feel ashamed.

“Let's go to the car okay?” Jeonghan pleaded.

The silence inside the vehicle was defying.

“I'm sorry, I'm stressed and you know how I get when I'm stressed. I never meant to hurt you, that's the last thing I want to do, I would rather die than hurt you, baby. I swear that I'm working on it and it will never happen again. Give me one more chance,” his hand tentatively fell on your tigh and gave it a light squeeze. You just hummed.

“Will you forgive me?”

“Maybe if you buy me a milkshake I will consider it,” you mumbled. Jeonghan laughed, that cute laugh of his that always warmed your heart.

"One milkshake coming up."

[scentedpepper]

Missions, Malaise and Migas Pt. VII | Leon Kennedy

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Final Part

Fandom: Resident Evil

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Male Reader

Summary: Leon and Y/N have some underlying issues. Ones they tried to warn DSO about.

Content Warnings: None

Other Pairings: Luis Sera x Reader

Author Note(s): guys I'm pissing and shitting the last part is out tmrw

fighting sleep when I edited this😭

The storage facilities were further away than either man had anticipated. Another half a mile of trudging through sticky mud, the sweaty hands and the way you all clung to your weapons, it left Leon, in particular, feeling uneasy and vulnerable to anyone else's attack. So, of course, when the steel doors finally opened and you all limped inside, Leon turned too quickly, unceremoniously slid the deadbolt, a loud thud echoing the vacancy.

You were the first to sit, and you lowered yourself to the metal floor in such a way that you didn’t want Luis nor Leon to see it. Because there was struggle there, that much was obvious as your hand, which had bled through the bandage, grasped to the crinkles in the wall and you delicately lowered your form to the floor as if you held a child in your non-existent uterus. You let out a soft huff when you felt a solidified pressure against your butt and your gun fell into your lap.

Despite the fact that you don't directly look at your partner, your senses are turned in his direction, taking him in, feeling when he eases into position beside you, his legs outstretched, though his fingers still clenched around his gun. He doesn’t lean against the wall, doesn't force you to fall into a lull like your body craves. He knows you're not calm.

After a beat of quiet, he decides to interrupt.

"How you holding up?" He barely gets the question out before your head ticks in his direction. His vision is focused on his weapons. He's carefully looking over every bullet that he has left, the stocking, the inventory that his vest holds.

"I'm fine. " You reply sharply. You can practically feel the suspicion drying against your skin like the layers of blood already there.

Though you can't directly see him, you can feel his stares heating your skin. The one that begins with concern then slowly melts away and comes back like the water drops from rain. The one where you're unsure if he's judging you, mentally criticizing what you're saying to him. Sometimes, you wonder if he has an open book with his thoughts that he conveniently turns the pages to. If you could see his mental library, your name would appear on those pages a lot more than you care to admit.

You shake the thoughts from your head, your other senses returning to the man. The inhales and exhales, how you can hear the slight jangle of his vest moving as he breathes and your hand is reaching into your pocket, pulling out the handgun you took from the woman who attempted to stab your partner in the neck.

A silent thank you that wasn't exactly appreciated.

You let a sigh, a puff out of your chest that hurts more than you're willing to admit and you say the first thing you think of.

"It doesn't feel like we're making progress. "

Leon didn't look at you, continuing to examine his weapons.

"We'll go back for more evidence. " He manages after a moment, the tone of his voice causing your heart rate to throb in your ears. It's deadpan and you get the distinct sense that he doesn't really want to be talking to you right now. Like every other thing that comes out of your mouth is a spitball aimed for his left temple.

Another exhale that you wished you didn't push out so harshly. Your head leans against the wall behind you and then a clank, your gun, at your side. After that, the silence.

Moments later, after peering out the crack through the heavy door and listening more intently than his ears were capable of, Luis sat in the empty space on the other side of you. You're vaguely aware of your breathing, your heartbeat, Luis next to you. It's all in and out and you can't tell if the beat of your heart is from the walk uphill to the storage facilities but the increasing rate is beginning to cause worry that you otherwise hadn't addressed.

You close your eyes, an odd way to fight against the blurring of your eyes.

Your chest wants to rise with the amount of oxygen your body craves and your toes are curled inside your boots, arms draped loosely over your abdomen. There's a faint but consistent ringing in your ear. Despite the fact you could've sworn you weren't in the battlefield, the sounds still echoed around in your skull.

Something is crawling at the back of your throat and there's an airy feeling in your head that causes you to force your eyes back open, wide. You lift yourself up just an inch before a white dot begins to move in and out of your field of vision. You let out a strangled, hitched gasp, slamming back against the wall.

"Hey. " There's something, or more so someone that calls your name in the distance, an arm outstretched, someone's fingers curling around your shoulder. "Y/N. "

You don't respond. You can't. You're too busy trying to stand again. Fight it. Fight. Fight. Fight. But your back slides back down the wall. The sound reverberates through the room and it stuns the men into silence for a moment.

"Y/N?!" Luis is alarmed to say the least and he's begin to get up on one knee. You can't feel his hands on you as you try to stand again but it's his palms bracing you that leaves you successful in your improper endeavors.

"Y/N. " Leons standing now. He takes a few steps forward. Slow. He's stepping like you're a tiger who's been cornered and at any second you may pounce. "Y/N stop. You're just hurting yourself. " There's something other than the usual authority he holds in his voice as he watches you stumble across the room, a hand clutching at your abdomen.

Before you get a chance to speak, a hoarse wheeze shakes through your body and the hands that have wrapped around you, pulling you back with little struggle, seem to have a secure grasp and without intention, you do nothing but use that. Your head falls into the crook of the persons shoulder, the back of your skull, the nape of your neck, the curve of your upper back. It fits against them perfectly.

"Leon. " Your voice is a mere whisper and your eyes are screwed tightly together. Everything feels like pins and needles. When you speak his name it's like watching something deteriorate; crumbling brick, cracks spreading across a clear surface. "I-" You can't get it out. It takes too much of a breath. It'd send a blinding strike of pain throughout your entire torso.

"Don't try. " He says quietly.

It's a few more seconds of staggering with him holding you close to his frame, never daring to pull you away from his shoulder even when you sway on your feet.

You can feel another prescence above you and it doesn't take much to know Luis is there, examining your face, listening to your unsteady breaths. Then his hand is on the back of your head and his fingers give you a kind stroke.

It should hurt. If he were to press a little firmer it would ache but you appreciate the touches nonetheless.

"We need to get him out of here. ¡Rápido!" Luis sounds almost as uneasy as you feel.

"No. " Your voice is barely audible. It's strained and full of effort just to make a sound at all.

Luis and Leon look to you and then back to one another.

In-between the exchanges, your eyes slowly slit open, locking with Leons as you grip the vest that is looped around his side. You can feel yourself losing your footing, like your legs are being detached from your knees and pulled out from underneath you.

You faintly register your name whispered from his lips, his face is strained, scared, and he doesn't look away from your fading gaze and suddenly, it stops. Your vision.

Your lungs cave in, your chest caves in and your head is resting in the safety of Leon's shoulder, an arm bracing you.

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

Can you write about Mika comforting Damien after he’s had a nightmare?

Of course! I’ve been busy and writing other stuff but I can do it now!! Hope you enjoy and sorry if it’s not so great. I’m not so great at writing Damien😭, but I Hope you enjoy :)💙.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated as always!!

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He didn’t understand why the nightmare kept happening. The Demon Lord was dead, gone, and wouldn’t’ve been able to hurt Damien or Mika.

Mika, his lovely wife. They both had fought the Demon Lord for her freedom, and got married once they returned a few months ago. He believed their life could be better and peaceful, but every so often a nightmare haunted him, and it was always the same.

He opened his eyes in the dream and was in the throne room, with the Demon Lord far from him. Damien looked up on instinct and saw Mika, his lovely Mika, held up in the air by the monster. He wanted to run towards her, and he always, always tried, but he was stuck. He was frozen like a statue and was forced to watch the Demon Lord stab her, and hear her scream.

The Demon Lord said something, something about him being a bastard and how it’s his fault, but it never really processed. The only thing that processed was the sounds and sight of her death. He stabbed her until she stopped responding, and threw her lifeless body to the ground.

It broke him out of his trance and he tried to run towards her, shouting her name, but he was suddenly stopped by hands pulling him away. The Demon Lord looked at him the entire time, smiling even harder when the hands drag him away to the dungeons. It changed so quickly, it always did, and suddenly his hands were placed on a stone wall, and he heard the crack of a whip followed by the pain on his back.

It cracked over and over again, the pain worsened each time, and just before he woke he heard someone whisper, “A demon till the day you die.”

He sat up with a loud gasp, the world spinning as soon as he opened his eyes. He took in quick breaths, eyes scanned the room to see any threat, but there was none. He almost screamed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, only to look over and immediately recognize Mika.

“Damien? What’s wrong?” She noticed his breathing and the slight sheen of sweat on his face, and had a guess of what happened. She moved up to lean against the headboard and gently pulled him with her. Like always, he moved with her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, laying his cheek on her shoulder, while she ran a hand through his hair. “Was it a nightmare again?” He nodded silently. His eyes were focused solely on her stomach, the places she was stabbed in, and almost missed her next question. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing was different. You still died and I was…”. He couldn’t finish the sentence, his throat felt too tight to continue. His tears fell before he could’ve stopped them, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, feeling slight embarrassment though he knew she never judged him.

Her hand moved down his back, rubbing up and down to prove nothing was there. No scars or cuts or slashes. No one had hurt him. She lifted his chin up to make him look at her, up into her lovely green eyes that always made him feel safe. “Damien, you’re here with me. We’re safe.” She took one of his hands and placed it on her stomach, proving there were no stabs or blood, and then placed it over her heart. “We’re both alive.” She then wiped a few tears away and caressed his cheek lovingly, making him feel the warmth from her body, and not the coldness he knew her body had in the nightmare.

He listened to her voice, felt her touch, and followed her breathing to ease himself, a routine he did after each nightmare. Her heart was strong under his hand, and alive. He let out a deep sigh and nodded. “Yes, we’re alive. You’re alive. We’re safe,” he repeated to himself.

She slid back down to her spot in bed, him following her, and pulled him to her chest. He heard each heartbeat and breath she took, reassuring him more. She then began to hum a lullaby softly, guiding him to a peaceful sleep. When he was on the edge of sleep, ready to fall back into the darkness and hope for a better dream, he heard her whisper, “I love you, Damien. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. Forever.”

He believed her, like he always did and always would until the end.

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I hope you enjoyed! I’m open for many more, but forgive me if I’m not as good for Matthew and Damien but I hope you enjoyed and see this Anon💙!

[kooktrash]

"i did something terrible"

tae telling the truth that he is cheating on oc😭😭😭

oh god I hate cheating aus 😭😭like I fr get mad writing them cuz whew let someone cheat on me. I dare them. anyway thanks for submittinggg this isn’t perfect but hopefully you liked it a little 🥹

don’t say ‘i love u’ | kth

You know those days that just get worse and worse? The kind where you wake up in the morning already in a bad mood? You’re tired, you’re irritated, and you just want the day to be over. That was today.

From the moment you woke up feeling more drained than you should be to now. You’re home now and it’s been eerily quiet tonight. Your boyfriend got home an hour what looking worse for wear and you already knew it was gonna be a no talking night.

You were in the middle of drying your hair in the bathroom when you heard Taehyung’s voice speak over the sound of the blow dryer. You turned it off stepping into doorframe and looking at your boyfriend, “What?”

His head was hanging low sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows against his knees. His gaze pulled from the floor to you, “I did something terrible.”

And just like that your heart stopped. There’s only so much that sentence could mean. You tried to play it cool not wanting to jump to conclusions. You set the blow dryer down on the sink before walking out leaning against the wall with yours crossed over your chest, “Like what?”

He didn’t say anything for a second. You couldn’t even read his expression at the moment. Usually, he’s an open book to you. He’s so easy to read and right now it’s the opposite. Like you could tell something was off but you couldn’t see what, or maybe you didn’t want to see.

“I slept with Jisoo.”

For a moment you swear there was a ringing in your ear like your brain to tune it out. Maybe it refused to pay attention to what your boyfriend of three years just said. But you did hear it and every word made your stomach sink. Your breath was held in your throat as you processed.

He slept with Jisoo. Your best friend Jisoo?

Taehyung waited for you to snap, his eyes never once left you. You didn’t even blink, you were forcing your body to stay calm. If you didn’t, then you would snap and you refused to cry in front of him right now.

“Did you hear me?” His voice cracked at the end as he tried to clear his throat, “I said I slept with Jisoo.”

Your jaw clenched. You were heartbroken right now. You trusted him and Jisoo. You’d known her for years, long before you and Taehyung got together and she did this to you. And you were mad.

How could you be such a fucking idiot? How could you let him do this to you? How could you let yourself be vulnerable and trust someone only for them to stab you in the back? They made you look stupid every time you all got together.

You trusted both of them. You never took their light banter or closeness as anything to fear for. They would never do anything to hurt you, that’s what you thought. But clearly you were stupid. So fucking unbelievably stupid.

“When?” It was the only thing you could get out. It’s like your mind still couldn’t process what he’d just said. You knew if you tried to say more the hurt would get the best of you. You’d surely break down crying and you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’d loved him enough to hurt like this.

“Last weekend,” he said, his eyes were red almost teary but he wasn’t going to stop. He needed you to know it all. He was ready to change. “… and once about a month ago.”

You couldn’t hold in the scoff that escaped from your lips in disbelief. You couldn’t even look at him right now. You tried to think of when that could’ve possibly been. You hadn’t hung out with Jisoo recently so that meant they sought each other out. They planned it. They talked about it. It wasn’t a spur of the moment.

You wanted to disappear. If you could dissolve into the floorboards you would. If you found out another way you would erase yourself from their lives. You’d want Taehyung to wonder forever and ever why you left him like that. You’d let him act blind to it even if he knew the reason all along. You can’t believe you didn’t know.

You still refused to give way too how you actually felt. The moment you do it will all break loose. Your anger, your heartache, your betrayal. You weren’t going to let him know he got to you. At least you still have Jisoo. You could erase yourself from her life though you’re not sure if she’d actually die without you now. You used to say you’d die without each other, but you wouldn’t hurt someone you care about right?

“Say something,” Taehyung bit into his bottom lip nervously, “Please. Yell at me, tell me you hate me, I don’t care just say something.”

You pushed off the wall walking over to your vanity where your bag and keys sat. He stood up from the bed ready to stop you when you walked past him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that you weren’t talking to him. He fucked up. He knows he fucked up and he swears he’ll never do it again.

He caught on to what you were doing just before you got to the bedroom door. He slammed it shut pressing his back to it.

“Move,” you barely got it out. His arm went to grab you when you jumped back, “Don’t touch me.”

He shook his head, “No, Y/n, please. Just listen, let me explain, fuck it was a mistake.”

“Taehyung, please move so I can leave,” you tried saying calmly. His hand was over the doorknob and you tried with all your might to pull his hand away but he didn’t budge.

“It was a mistake, I swear,” a year slipped from his eyes, “I promise I will never do it again. Please don’t leave, just think about us for a moment. We’ve been together for three years.”

You didn’t say anything, face stone cold as you kept your hand on his arm still trying to move it off the doorknob. He went to pull you into him when you finally snapped.

You shoved his hands away, “Don’t touch me.” Your voice cracked as your eyes began to pool with tears, “Let me leave.”

“No,” he shook his head still leaning against the door, “I love you Y/n. Please just think about us.”

You ran your hand over your face in annoyance, “You love me? Really?”

“Yes, and it was a mistake. A big fucking mistake it didn’t mean anything I ju—“

“Give me a fucking break Taehyung,” you scoffed finally letting a few tears slip, “You don’t love me.”

“I do,” he dropped to his knees wrapping his arms around your legs, “Please don’t leave. I love you, okay? I love you and it didn’t mean anything. I only want you.”

“You don’t love me!” You yelled trying to get him off, “If you did you wouldn’t have slept with my best friend, twice!” He flinched a little at the reminder shaking his head, “Please. It didn’t mean anything.”

“You’re a liar and a cheater and I want nothing to do with you or Jisoo, so please, while I’m still asking nicely can you let me go?” You tried to calm down again.

He stood up wanting to reach you when you opened the door making your escape. Immediately his arms flung around you pulling you into his chest, “Just let me explain. It didn’t mean anything Y/n please don’t do this to me. I need you.”

“It didn’t mean anything?” You asked, his hold relaxing a little, “So why’d you do it twice?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. He let you pull away, “I—I. It just happened. But I swear I love you, I don’t care about h—“

“Stop saying you love me. If you did you would’ve never risked our relationship,” you said, “And stop acting like it didn’t mean anything. She’s my best friend Taehyung, not some fucking stranger from the bar. You knew what you were doing.”

You took his silence as a sign to keep going. He wanted you to talk so you were going to let him know how you felt. You could see the trails of tears from his eyes and it made you scoff in disbelief.

“Why are you crying?” You asked slightly annoyed, “Huh? Why are you crying Taehyung?”

“Because I love you—“

“No you don’t!” You yelled, “You don’t love me so stop crying. You don’t have the right to cry like you’re the one who’s hurt. I’m the one who was lied to. I’m the one who is looking so fucking stupid right now. I’m the one who wasted three years of my life on you.”

“Please don’t say that,” he said softly, “I made a mistake. I know I did but I’m willing to change. I want to change for you. Think about us.”

“You sound so stupid right now, you don’t have the right to say that to me,” you said bitterly, “You weren’t thinking about us when you fucked Jisoo, twice right? Yeah did you think about us then? You want to change for me? It’s been three years Taehyung. Three years that you threw away for what? Do you love her?”

He shook his head, “I love you.”

“Do you love her?” You asked again wanting to hear him say it.

“No. No! I don’t.” He huffed, “I don’t love Jisoo. I love you. I care about you—“

“You’re a fucking liar,” you scoffed moving to walk toward the front door. He picked you up, “Y/n please, baby don’t do this. I was going to propose. I want to get married. I want to be with you and only you. Please just don’t leave me. You know I can’t do this without you.”

“Stop!” You screamed pushing him off.

“Stop with all of this bullshit!” You said moving away from him, “You don’t care about me. You don’t love me. You wouldn’t have done that if you did. You think I want to be with you? You think I’ll be able to forget all this and still stay with you? You must think I’m really fucking stupid.”

He didn’t look at you. His gaze was locked on the floor feeling disgusted with himself. He hurt you. How could he do that? He let Jisoo get in his head, he let her play him along until he gave her what she wanted. What had happened should’ve been a one time thing but they just had to do it again. And it’s not that he didn’t feel guilty about it. He wanted to tell you the first time it happened but Jisoo told him not to. She said you’d never forgive him if he did.

So he kept it to himself. He swears he didn’t mean to do it a second time it just happened. They ran into each other at the store and Jisoo convinced him to go over to her place.

“Tae, look at me,” you were calmer now and that made him hopeful. Maybe you’d think it over and realize he really did love you. You’d go to couple’s therapy and cut Jisoo out of both your lives. Ten years from now you’ll be married probably with kids and you wouldn’t even think about it.

He looked up at you. Whatever tears you had were dry now and your voice was hoarse, “I’m going to walk out this door.”

He opened his mouth to speak before you continued, “And I don’t want you to stop me. I don’t want you to follow me, nothing. I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to think about you. Do you get that?”

His mouth clamped shut fighting back tears but it was no use, he was crying as your words cut into him.

“Stop crying,” you told him again, “Once I’m out this door I’m done. I’m done with you and I’m done with Jisoo. You have no reason to cry. You did this. You ruined us so don’t act like it’s me. I’m serious Taehyung. I don’t ever want to see you again. I hate you.”

You looked him in the eyes feeling broken inside as you struggled to get the words out, “I. Hate. You.”

I hate you. His body went rigid. No. No you don’t. You don’t hate him. You love him, you love him even when he makes mistakes and you can’t just leave him like he’s nothing.

You got to the door swinging it open and slamming it shut. It took him a second to react, your words cutting through him like a knife. He ran to the door twisting the knob feeling it jam. You locked it before you left, probably to delay him. You knew he’d go after you.

He fumbled with the lock as he opened the door peering down the hall. You were quick but he ran not caring if the door was open. You’d have to come back. You lived together. Where would you even go?

“Y/n!” He called out running down the stairs. He reached the front doors too late. He watched through the glass as you stepped into a taxi. You turned to look at him one last time as he ran out. The car door slammed in his face and you were urging the driver to go.

He took his phone out ready to call you, it rang once before going straight to voicemail. He tried again but the same thing.

You can not do this to him. He can’t do this without you, don’t you get that? He fucked up, he knows he did. But you weren’t supposed to leave. You were supposed to understand that he’s not perfect. That he fucks up even if he doesn’t mean to and you’re supposed to be there to fix him. You’re supposed to love him no matter what the way he loves you.

“Pick up the phone Y/n,” he mumbled to himself as he called for the eighth time in the time it took him to go back to his apartment. His fingers worked rapidly to type.

taehyung | answer the phone

taehyung | it didn’t mean anything

taehyung | I love you

taehyung | I’m sorry

taehyung | pls y/n don’t do this

taehyung | where are you going

taehyung | we live together

taehyung | pls can’t you just answer the phone

It took three hours to get a response and it wasn’t from you. It was from Jisoo.

jisoo | you told y/n didn’t u?

He blocked her and tried to call again. He grabbed his keys. He was going to go to every single one of your friend’s houses until he found you.

You say you hate him but you don’t. You can’t.

You can’t do this to him.

::.

a/n I’m ngl I had this all planned out when I got it and then when I actually did it I couldn’t think of anything

hoped you liked it

and y/n ghosted him. y/n had someone else go pick up all the belongings from the apartment. changed phone numbers. blocked him off socials. all dat just cuz she knew it’d hurt him :p

idc if it’s baby daddy Jungkook himself but if I ever get cheated on just know I’m gonna dip and I’m gonna keep quiet about it lol

doing one or two prompts a day [hopefully]. only doing it this week tho

[lizartss]

His name on an exhale. Yuuji slumped, all gashes and cuts against Megumi. He called for him in a voice that was barely there, as cracked and broken as he was after all was said and done. He'd never felt this tired before. Heavy bones, heavy heart, thumping to the sound of heavy breaths.

“Megumi?”

He said it again, pitched, because Megumi wasn't responding to him. Not a sound. Even his arms hung limp at his sides. Squeezing him tighter, trying to let him know that he was there, that Yuuji was in front of him and they were fine. Bleeding out and no longer who they used to be, but still flesh and bone.

“Yuu…”

It was weak, but it had left Megumi's lips nonetheless. Yuuji perked, pulled away, words on his tongue that buried themselves back into the recesses of his throat, digging a hollow place to die — because Megumi wasn't even looking at him. Eyes jaded, grey mist trapped in green glass, pressing up against it, clouding vision until Yuuji could no longer see himself reflected in Megumi's gaze.

All the relief he had been feeling seized up in his chest again. Yuuji would be sick.

(ive been following you for a while now, and ive thought so since but it really stands out to me how sweet you are😭 so, so sweet, i wish you literally all the happiness in life. i don't really have as much time as id want for writing recently, but i got so many ideas from looking at your work!! (this was inspired by the itafushi sideprofiles one, whole fic got planned out in my head bc the way you draw expression is so good!!) will definitely link whenever i do write it bc honestly,, such beautiful art as inspiration😩

also, just wanna add here that i saw your rant about you art and i just wanted to say, you're doing so well. it happens sometimes, people want to improve and i think that's such a beautiful, human desire, but it gets overwhelming sometimes when you're not getting where you want to be with the things you want to. sometimes it helps to take a step back, for a second, a minute, an hour, maybe a day. give yourself a break from the expectations that consume you, and find what you love all over again when you come back. it gets like that, with art, with writing, with anything honestly. you will improve, you are improving, you have improved, relish in those things for a while too because you deserve to feel accomplished just like everyone else.)

Dear anon,

I have read this ask multiple times by now and I have cried literal tears every single time. At your writing and your message.

I mean first of all, ouchhhh, but your writing is so beautiful.

“Bleeding out and no longer who they used to be, but still flesh and bone”, I think you just stabbed me in the heart.

“Eyes jaded, grey mist trapped in green glass, pressing up against it, clouding vision until Yuuji could no longer see himself reflected in Megumi's gaze.” This one.. can I put this one in a jar and put it next to my bed?

I would love to read more of what you write!! I seriously can’t believe you get inspired by my art?? Like??? I always get inspired by people’s writing but I didn’t even know it was possible the other way around 😭 And thank you for your very kind words 😭😭 you’re so sweet too like actually makes me cry (also like I do really try with the facial expressions, like character acting is so important to me in my art (like most of the time at least >.>) so I really appreciate you mentioning that)

And your last message!! I love you I love you I love you! You are so right honestly. I tried to absorb your message and it really made me feel a lot better today. Actually I think EVERYONE needs to read that! Anon thank you again, I tried my best to convey how much I appreciate this with words but.. I’m just sending good vibes your way and I hope your pillows are cold forever! (I mean if you like that, if not then I hope your pillows are whatever temperature you want it to be)

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ i wish you all the best too xx

Oh also yes!! Link me your fic when it’s done please!

[wizardofrozz]

Echoes of the Past

Bucky Barnes x Super Soldier!Reader, Steve Rogers

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: swearing, dark themes, description of torture, blood, violence, flashbacks, description of injuries

A/N: Okay, I’m so sorry this took me so long to start posting but finals have been kicking my ass 😭 I was going to say I’m nervous about posting this but that’s nothing new so just always assume I’m a wreck when I post a new story 😂 I hope this lives up to what everyone is expecting, and I’d love to hear any thoughts

Chapter 1

(Y/N) shoved through the door to Steve’s apartment, stumbling in when the door popped open. She kicked debris out of the way, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Steve was following as she continued to push broken furniture out of the way. (Y/N) made it to the couch and turned towards her best friend again, wincing as her eyes scanned his bruised face, his smile sad when he glanced up at her. Steve was pretty banged up when they found him on the riverbank after the helicarriers when down, but he was alive, and according to him, Bucky’s the one that pulled him out.

           “Stop babying me,” Steve laughed humorlessly, settling on the couch with a groan, his eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds.

           “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you stopped picking fights,” she whispered, trying to smile at him as she curled up at his side. Steve looked worn, beaten, and pale, similar to before the war, and it made her chest ache. He lifted his left arm, still babying the stab wound on his right side, and wrapped his fingers around (Y/N)’s palm, squeezing it as tears started to well up in his eyes.

           “How the hell are you alive?” Steve whispered, squeezing her hand tight enough to hurt.

           “That’s a long story,” (Y/N) chuckled, dropping her eyes to stare at their hands.

           “I think now is a good time to tell it,” Steve proposed, tilting his head in an attempt to catch her eyes. (Y/N) avoided his gaze, her eyes studying his thumb swiping across her fingertips, still trying to wrap her head around how huge his hands were now.

           “I never saw you after the serum,” (Y/N) noted absently, tracing her thumb over his knuckles, thinking back to the last time she saw Steve.

           “I know,” Steve whispered, shifting in his seat but never pulling his hand away. “I hated that I could only write you a letter after Bucky fell, but that was the only option I had.”

           “I was so alone,” (Y/N) whimpered, swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Our brownstone was so quiet, and I was so broken. My brother stayed with me for a few weeks, and just when it felt like I could breathe again, I got the news you went into the ice.” Steve sucked in a shaky breath, leaning his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

           “I’m sorry,” Steve croaked, tightening his grip on her hand.

           “I kind of lost it after that,” (Y/N) sighed, scratching at the tear in her jeans. “Peggy personally delivered Bucky’s belongings after your plane went down. I begged her to tell me what happened to him.”

That grabbed Steve’s attention, and he lifted his head, squinting at her. “What did she tell you?”

           “She told me about Bucky’s capture, and your reckless rescue mission,” (Y/N) snorted, raising a brow at Steve.

           “It was pretty reckless,” Steve laughed, releasing her hand to wipe at his eyes. “I don’t regret it, though; I helped a lot of soldiers that day.” (Y/N) nodded along, smiling down at her lap, pride swelling in her chest.

           “S-She told me the details of what happened to Bucky and what possessed you to crash the plane,” (Y/N) sighed, anxiously cracking her knuckles, a bad habit she developed over the years.

           “Okay,” Steve drawled, shifting to face her more, “that doesn’t explain how you’re here.”

           “The Commandos came home and showed up on my doorstep, somehow knowing where we lived and offering their condolences. I started asking questions, desperately needing some kind of closure, and that’s how I found out about Hydra.” (Y/N) shifted in her seat, pressing her back against the arm of the chair, and hugged her knees. She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing down the memories associated with the name that made bile burn in the back of her throat. “Most of them thought Hydra did something to him when he was captured, including Bucky, and I latched onto that, hoping that if I knew what it was, I’d have some closure.”

           “What did you do?” Steve hissed. (Y/N) looked up, withering under the glare her best friend was shooting at her, feeling smaller than ever.

           “I didn’t do it on purpose,” she whispered, resting her chin on her knees. “I went digging around in something I didn’t understand, and that was my mistake.”

           “Dear god,” Steve growled, massaging the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve been killed, (Y/N)!”

           “I know!” (Y/N) yelled, squeezing her eyes shut, lowering her voice before she spoke again. “I thought they were going to, and they almost did, but I made another mistake. Well, in retrospect, it wasn’t really a mistake.” Steve’s head lolled to the side, turning a glare on her again, clenching and unclenching his jaw; (Y/N) took a deep breath, steadying her racing heart before continuing.

1946

(Y/N)’s head felt heavy, and every thought seemed to take too long to form as she slowly became aware of her surroundings again. A faint pulsing at the base of her skull seemed to grow with each passing second, and a broken groan bubbled past her lips. Her mouth was too dry, her nose burned with the musty smell of mold, and she couldn’t feel her fingers until she shifted, hissing at the coarse rope biting into her wrists. Before she opened her eyes, she strained to listen to the world around her; she could make out the faint rustle of clothing nearby and the hum of electricity, but otherwise, it was silent.

She tentatively lifted her head, blinking with heavy eyes; her vision was slightly fuzzy, and it took a few tries for her to make sense of the room. The walls were gray, but years of grime left dark patches around the room, sucking out the already minimal light washing over the cell. (Y/N) stomach clenched when her eyes shifted to the sturdy steel door opposite her; the yellow and white paint was already faded and chipped, but the ten thin lines carved into the paint were unsettling. She tried to keep her breathing shallow, hoping not to alert the guard slouched in a chair in the corner of the room that she was conscious.

(Y/N) looked down at herself, grimacing at the dark red staining the cream-colored shirt that she assumed was from the wound she could feel at the base of her skull. Her head snapped up at the screeching of metal dragging against concrete, studying the dark figures stepping into the room. Three masked men shuffled into the room wearing rich black uniforms that looked like a knock-off of the uniform Bucky wore the last time she saw him. It felt like a vise closed around (Y/N)’s lungs as her mind supplied a mental image of him the day he got his uniform, proudly showing it off with a contagious smile.

(Y/N) held in the pained sob threatening to burst from her lips and forced her gaze back to the men spreading around the cell to make room, so the last man to enter. He wore a similar uniform, minus the mask, and took his time strolling into the space, his dark, empty eyes scanning (Y/N). He approached slowly, scrutinizing every inch of her body, giving her the urge to squirm under his stare, but she bit her cheek, willing her nervous limbs to stay still.

           “Who do you work for?” The man’s accent was hard to understand, and it took (Y/N) a moment to comprehend his question.

           “Uh, no one,” (Y/N) replied, her brows pinching together as she stared into the dark brown eyes lingering on her face.

           “I won’t ask again,” the man hissed. He gripped the arms of the wooden chair (Y/N) was tied to, leaning in close enough that she could smell liquor and stale cigars on his breath, and she swallowed down the urge to gag.

           “I work for no one,” she repeated, shifting in her chair, tugging on the ropes holding her wrists behind the chair. (Y/N) lips twitched when the rough material dug into the sensitive skin of her wrists, rubbing them raw. She was too preoccupied to notice the man’s hand move until her head snapped sideways, pain exploding across her cheek.

The force of the hit lifted two legs of the chair, leaving it teetering for a moment before her weight brought the legs to the floor with a crack. (Y/N)’s head hung to the side as she tried to blink away the growing spots, spitting the blood pooling in her mouth at the man’s shoes. She shook the hair from her face, glaring up at the man’s disgusting smirk, wishing he’d lean close enough for her to headbutt him.

           “I don’t work for anyone,” she snapped, spitting more blood on the floor, “I was looking for a-a loved one.” The man’s expression brightened as he stood tall, his grin growing as he glanced over his shoulder at one of the soldiers.

           “A loved one, you say. And who would that be?”

           “What did you do to James Barnes?” (Y/N) kept her eyes locked on his face, pride swelling in her chest when his face fell, his mouth falling open to reveal yellowing teeth. Her pride fizzled out when another smile started to spread across his face, and at that moment, she realized her mistake.

           “I think we can help you with that,” the man hummed, clasping his hands behind his back and starting for the door. (Y/N) opened her mouth to yell for him, but the sound was cut off with a whimper when a blunt object slammed into her head again, instantly throwing her back into nothingness.

Steve sat in silence, staring across the room, his jaw shifting under his skin like he was chewing his next words. (Y/N) held in the nervous urge to say his name, not wanting to prematurely initiate the outburst that was clearly coming.

           “Really!” Steve snapped, jolting in his seat, all of his limbs flailing wildly for a split second.

           “It was either give him something or get beaten to death,” (Y/N) grumbled, folding in on herself more.

           “What else do you remember?” Steve sighed, pressing his pointer finger knuckles into his eyes.

           “A lot of it’s a blur,” (Y/N) huffed, letting her eyes slip closed. “I don’t like to think about it.”

           “I found you suspended in a Hydra lab in Delaware, so where were you before that?” Steve twisted around on the couch, so he was facing (Y/N), rubbing the stab wound on his shoulder.

           “Fuck if I know, Steve,” (Y/N) grunted, dropping her arms and extending her legs. “When they did unfreeze me, they didn’t give me a run down on world news. The second I was conscious, I was being dragged off to…some room.” (Y/N) flinched as the memories floated around in her head, the phantom pain settling like a rock on her chest, and she immediately pulled her knees to her chest again. Steve noticed the sudden shift and sat forward, his eyes flickering around her face as his lips parted with a gasp.

           “What did they do to you, (Y/N)?” Steve tried to reach for her, pulling his hand away when she flinched, and his heart longed to comfort her, but he held back.

           “I wasn’t an agent,” she whispered, resting her forehead on her knees. “I wasn’t trained to kill like – like B-Bucky; I accidentally picked up on some fighting.”

           “How?” Steve mumbled, narrowing his eyes at her.

           “I was a pawn….”

1952

Waking wasn’t peaceful or enjoyable, but it wasn’t painful or unbearable either. One second (Y/N) was floating in the recesses of her mind, and the next, her eyes fluttered open as the steam rolled out of the opening around her feet. The glass cylinder rose towards the ceiling, warm air flooding her chapped skin as she came back to herself. The first few times she was brought out of the cryo chamber, she could remember some things, but each time seemed to steal more of her awareness.

She blinked sleepily down at the handlers climbing the steps towards her, studying their uniforms, but she said nothing. (Y/N)’s legs were unsteady, and she leaned most of her weight on the handlers pulling her down the steps and out of the room. By the time she made it into the hallway, even if she couldn’t remember her past, she knew what was coming next. They reached the door, and (Y/N) was able to hold herself up, her muscles loosening enough for her to walk on her own. Deep down, she knew she should fight, swing at the men flanking her, but she couldn’t remember why it mattered anymore; her brain had been frozen and thawed so many times, she wasn’t sure if it even worked properly anymore.

The handlers grabbed her arms, dragging her across the room to a metal chair equipped for her strength, and started to strap her down. (Y/N) kept her eyes on the ground out of habit, not bothering to look up when the handlers moved away and waited. Like many times before, her ears perked up at the muffled shouting echoing through the halls, her brain trying to place the sound. (Y/N) kept her head bowed even when she heard the thump of footsteps and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The room fell quiet aside from the sound of someone climbing up from the floor, hissing profanities under their breath.

           “No,” someone cried out. (Y/N) lifted her head at the familiar voice, her eyes immediately landing on the man sticking out. The man looked young, thin, and exhausted, his scraggly hair hanging over the tops of his ears while huge, red-rimmed eyes locked onto her. The man spun around to face the armed guards, his head whipping side to side as he tried to find someone to take pity on him. “Please, not again.”

           “One day, you’ll learn,” one of the guards sighed. (Y/N) watched the man turn towards her again, his searing blue eyes glistening with tears, the chains she hadn’t noticed around his hands and feet clanging together as he shuffled forward. Something about him seemed familiar, like she should know him and her brain continued to piece together her scrambled psyche when suddenly the memory slammed into her.

           “Bucky?” she whispered, a quivering smile spreading across her face. Instead of the happiness she expected, Bucky crumbled with a cry, falling to his knees, covering his face with his hands.

           “Look,” a handler ordered, poking the muzzle of a gun between his shoulders. It took a few seconds, but Bucky eventually lifted his head, locking eyes with (Y/N). Her heart broke when she saw the destroyed look on his face; the tears washing away the grime on his cheeks only made the scene in front of her more painful.

           “I’m so sorry,” Bucky croaked. Before (Y/N) could reply, a handler stepped in front of her, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. Without fail, just like every other time, her memories exploded in her brain, giving one second to prepare before the first punch landed. Bucky cried out when (Y/N) did and continued to even when her shouts turned into whimpers. Blood ran into her eye from a cut above her eyebrow, her jaw felt funny, and there was a sharp pain under one of her eyes, and Bucky watched every second. The last thing she remembered was the broken shell of the man she loved on his hands and knees, sobbing.

Steve turned his face away halfway through her story, staring at the wall to his right. (Y/N) grew more anxious the longer Steve stayed quiet, but she couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth, so she sat there, shaking under the memories she wished to forget. The silence stretched on until Steve’s sniffle broke it, pulling (Y/N)’s head up from where her forehead was resting on her knees. He finally turned enough that she could see his profile, along with the trails of tears making his cheeks shine in the low light.

           “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, wishing there was a way to make herself smaller.

           “What?” Steve breathed, turning to face her head-on. “Are – Are you apologizing to me?” (Y/N) shrugged, shifting her eyes to the floor as she waited for whatever Steve was struggling to say; she didn’t look up even when she heard the couch groan as he moved closer. “Can I touch you?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, her brows pulling together, “uh, yeah?” Steve hesitated before grabbing her arms and yanking her across the gap, crushing her against his chest. (Y/N) froze, every muscle locking up, but she slowly started to unclench the longer Steve held her until she melted against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

           “Sh,” Steve hummed, cupping the back of her head. She didn’t realize she was sobbing, loudly, against his shoulder, clinging to Steve like a lifeline as flickers of Hydra assaulted her brain.

           “I could hear him s-screaming,” (Y/N) cried, her voice breaking as the memories of Bucky’s screams bounced off the inside of her skull. “It was like they waited until I was conscious again so I could hear what they were doing to him.” Steve stayed quiet, rhythmically running his hand down her back, hushing her like a fussy child, rocking her side to side.

           “I just don’t understand why,” Steve mumbled, mostly to himself, not expecting an answer.

           “What do you mean?” (Y/N) sniffled, resting her cheek on his shoulder, watching his Adam’s apple bob.

           “He was so under control on the bridge,” Steve mumbled, his hands stilling as his brain worked.

           “That didn’t happen overnight, Steve. Why do you think he was only active for 50 of the last 70 years,” (Y/N) sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, swallowing down the bile forcing its way up. “He – He wouldn’t give in; he fought them for so long.”

           “Yeah, and you suffered for it,” Steve snapped, his arms tightening around her.

           “He couldn’t remember,” she whispered, breathing through the panic welling up in her stomach. “The wiping process destroyed his short-term memories. H-he couldn’t remember what happened when he fought back. I think that’s what made it worse.” (Y/N) crawled closer to Steve, clinging to him to hold herself together as the memories threatened to tear her apart at the seams. “I had to watch his heart break over and over again until finally, he caved, and that was the worst day of my life.”

           “I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered, hiding his face in her hair, tears falling into her hairline.

           “I was only brought out a few times after that when he started to step out of line again, but most of the time, I stayed in cryo,” (Y/N) croaked, flinching at the unpleasant flashback of the first time she woke up after the Winter Soldier. “They moved me around a lot after that. I woke up in different places until you found me.”

(Y/N) could hear Steve’s inhale rattling in his chest, reminding her of his pre-serum days when he wheezed with every breath. A new pain bloomed in her heart when she realized how much had changed from her childhood. Of course, she was happy that Steve was healthier and stronger, but she couldn’t help but miss the man she grew up with. Seeing just how much Steve had changed over the years scared her, not because she was worried about the man Steve turned into but because what did that mean for Bucky? How far gone was the bright, loving man she knew?

Chapter 2 | Masterlist

Taglist:

@itsafansworld07​ @youracidqueenmina​ @witch-of-letters​ 

[taykeisuke]

i need a crumb of poly jeanpiku 😭 with daddy dom jean especially ugh 😩

i hate sharing jean b-but maybe just this once😣

cw: sub pieck and fem reader/soft dom jean ; spit ; jealousy ; light dumbification ; mostly focused on jean and reader pieck’s kinda just there ; bulging ; daddy kink :{

1K words maybe i can’t count

But daddy dom Jean.. h-he’s so soft y’know🥺 especially in the bedroom.

He’s never mean, never orders you around or raises his voice, even when you and Pieck act like a couple of brats and disobey his wishes or talk back to him. He doesn’t have to, he simply resorts to using the calmest words paired with the softest touches that inevitably gets you both to melt.

“Get on top of her, baby.”

The gentle caress of Jean’s voice sends waves through her body and make her head hazy, and encourages Pieck onto the bed where you lie just at the edge, hands pawing at the silk sheets with bated breath and swollen cheeks as her thighs keep your folded legs pressed against the air. Laying her bare torso flush with yours.

Her body’s so soft— the feel of the dips and valleys of her frame smooth as butter and skin like satin, hard nipples lightly rubbing on top of yours and making both of you whine in frustration, pretty faces twisting up into prurient little expressions. The entire exhibition only makes it all the more enjoyable, Jean loves to see his pretty babies getting along.

Then he groans under his breath, eyes falling on what’s in front of him; two pretty pussies that belong to his favorite girls in the world, and they’re both his.

He runs his hand along the shaft of his dick, hard and aching. “You know I love both of you so, so much?”

“Yes,”

“Yes daddy..” the answers are quick, hasty without any need for second thought.

One corner of his mouth upturns a little, and his frame drapes over Pieck’s as he brings his head to the opening of her cunt, “Uh huh, you know why?”

The room falls quiet, except for the small whines pushing past Pieck’s mouth, hair brushing your shoulders from how she struggles to barely hold herself up on her palms. Jean takes the silence as an answer of its own, slowly forcing the tip of his cock past her hole and stretching her out on him. The silence in the room is sliced with a cry from the dark haired woman, involuntarily sending a throb right to your cunt.

She feels him so deep, the contrast of the pale skin of her ass sitting flush with his tan letting her know that he’s all the way inside, and she can’t help but let her mouth hang wide because it sends her head in a tizzy. “Cause your pretty pussies are so good for me, always making me cum.”

You lament at the profession, whining with each soft drag of his balls against your clit from the short thrusts he delivers to Pieck’s cunt that dribbles slick all over him.

“I’m.. m’gonna cum, daddy,” her damp lashes beat from her waterline pooling heavy with tears, mouth leaking a string of drool along the column of your neck.

“Pieck..” you mumble between puffy lips, sheets spilling from between the cracks of your fingers.

You hate to admit it.. but you’re jealous. It’s an ugly feeling that creeps up from the pit of your heart all the way up to your cotton-stuffed head. Don’t get it wrong, you love Pieck, but you love Jean.

At first you weren’t too keen on your little menage à trois, he was your daddy first.. y’know? Why did you have to share him? Watching him fuck someone else, having to watch her drool from getting fucked dumb on his cock instead of you, never fails to leave a sore spot in your chest every time.

It makes tears stab the edges of your aching eyes, glassy and pulsing as you start to cry.

Through your haze, you can hear him whisper ‘Angel,’ “What’s wrong?” You struggle to get the words out, you don’t know how to, overwhelmed so much with tears and jealousy that your words come out strangled and you choke between cries.

His palm feels cool against your flushed face, bringing his thumb down to stroke at the plush of your cheek. “Baby, calm down. Talk to me,” his plea, although benign, makes you sob even more.

Jean’s understanding. As gentle as he always is with you. But how’s he going to know what he can do to fix things if you don’t open up that pretty mouth and speak to him?

“I want you too,” your eyes are pleading into his golden gaze, “It’s not fair,” your voice croaks. You feel like such a crybaby. Such a burden. So overrun with envy that you can barely even get your words out without breaking down like a complete mess.

But Jean understands. He doesn’t blame you for being so open and wearing your heart on your sleeve. Out of you and Pieck, you’re definitely the more sensitive of the two. Always having to console you, calm down those crying fits by sitting you on his fat cock, hugging you close and bouncing you gently until you decide to be a good girl for him. That’s why he showers you with extra attention, longer kisses, and double the love.

Pieck half-sighs with a moan when Jean’s length leaves her, spine bending in and back trying to search for more. But then he’s pushing inside you now, dick wet with her cum and combining with yours to make one big mess.

“Look at me, hey. You don’t have to be upset, okay? Remember what we talked about?”

“I know daddy,” you rasp, feeling the harder nudge of his cock against your soft spot. Yet the reassurance still doesn’t qualm your insecurities, and he knows it.

“I love you. We both do.” His lips connect with Pieck’s neck, and she peers through you with a doeish look.

Your brows furrow, and your eyes involuntarily disappear into your head until there’s nothing but the whites showing when Jean pushes deeper, and he stops you mid-sentence when he hears you mutter something along the lines of, “Daddy, I—”

“Not me. Tell her how you feel, angel.”

You try again, “He.. daddy’s—”

“Go ahead,” he encourages you, sinking further into you despite the tightness that tries to grip him still to prevent him from going deeper.

“He’s deep.” He is. Truly. Not only to you, but to her too. She can feel it. From the press of her stomach to yours, his dick creates a small outline from how far he reaches inside your tight little pussy and bulges lightly. She stifles a moan, burying her face in the crook of your neck and body gently rocking thrusts as she patiently waits her turn.

“I love you,” your whimpers send a surge through him. You’re in pieces. So fucked out that your cheeks flush and your expression falls apart, so sloppy that you stain the sheets below you with cum and leave the room in a flurry of squelches and moans. He loves you. He’ll tell you a thousand and one times and fuck that pretty pussy open on his cock no matter how many times it takes to get it through to you.

“Mhm,” his lips on yours bring you peace, whining while he fucks you through it. “I love you too, angel. Both of you.”

[metalheadcowboy]

Billy catches max having a breakdown in the bathroom, max is wearing his jacket while he angrily cuts his hair. -🐢

AHHHH 🥺😭

“Hey, Max, have you seen my-” Billy stops dead in his tracks in the entry to the bathroom, “... Belt.”

The sound of scissors echoed through the room, Billy watching in shock as strands of fiery red hair floated to the floor like a feather. When he looked up he cringed, Max’s hair looked botched, hopefully not beyond repair.

“What the hell are you doing?” he questioned, quickly lunging forward to take the scissors out of Max’s hands only for him to turn to Billy and point the sharp object at him, “Jesus!” he threw his hands up in surrender, taking a step back.

“Go away,” she warned, keeping the scissors held in his direction, “‘S none of your business.”

“I think it’s my business to know why you’re getting hair all over my favorite jacket,” he points out, focusing in on the jean jacket Max had on that was too big for him, cuffed at the sleeves, but still hung off his shoulders.

“I’ll stab you,” Max threatened, widening his eyes a little and raising his eyebrows. Billy just laughed.

“Yeah? And what will you tell dad and Susan?” He countered, raising his own eyebrows.

“Like they’d care anyways,” Max mumbled.

“Woah, low blow, Maxie,” Billy said with a chuckle.

turning back to the mirror, Max examined his hair. He ran his hand through the part he’d tried to keep long on top and then the sides that were supposed to be shorter, but were ridiculously uneven. He tightened his grip on the scissors before letting them fall into the sink with a broken off sob.

“Shit,” he cursed, watching Max grip onto the sink for dear life, tears falling steadily off her face and onto the tile floor.

And Billy was never much of a comforter or great with cheering people up, but he could tell that Max was in some sort of serious distress. He moved forward again, making sure Max wasn’t going to maul him with the scissors, before pulling him tight to his body. 

Max barely tried to fight before melting into Billy’s hug, crying into the chest of his t-shirt while Billy awkwardly rubbing his back, not knowing what else to do. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just held together Max letting it all out before Max pulled away with a sniffle.

Billy reached over to the counter by the sink, grabbing a tissue for Max, giving him a second to calm down before questioning him.

“You don’t have to tell me, but...” he trailed off for a second, “If you want to talk about it-”

“I’m a boy,” Max suddenly blurted out and Billy would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t turn the size of saucers.

“Oh,” he spoke softy, nodding his head, “I mean, yeah, okay, that explains the hair.” He cracked a small smile as Max did the same, but more shy.

“Yeah, shit,” Max spoke, looking down at all of his hair, years of growing it out laying on the ground while he was left with the scraps, “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Billy quickly offered to Max’s surprise, “Just tell ‘er I stuck gum in your hair or something and this is all you could salvage. She’ll have to take you to get it cleaned up, no way she’ll let you walk around like that.” It seemed really obvious to him, but he was always getting into trouble, had an excuse for everything.

“You’d really take the fall for this?” Max checked, not wanting Billy to come back to her later pissed that he got the blame.

“Yeah, ‘s fine, I’ll probably be in trouble for graffiting the back of the school anyways.” and with that they both laughed and went their separate ways with a few last words from Billy.

“Clean up all that hair and if you fuck up my jacket I’ll fuck you up too, no excuse not anymore.”

Send me trans Steve/Billy asks 💛💛

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

It is I the same anon, I just cannot help myself. I love your sex pollen/fairy dust/tavern Clyde idea!! I can see Clyde being very sweet and protective but also at the same time very turned on and battling with himself to be a gentleman lol!!

Your man-at-arms Clyde wanting to make some wages to marry reader and getting injured 😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺 Oh Clyde!! I just know you will elevate this story with all the feels and tenderness. And yes to the big tub!! I hope there is some lavender bath salts or something to make his hair all floofy and smell nice hahahaa 😆 Clyde deserves all the loving.

I'm so glad you like it! <3

It turned out to be a long boi, not a surprise for me, and I still have quite a bit to go.

But here's a fun little snippet because I can't help myself:

*

“Get out.” – he tried a stern, commanding voice, dropping all your discarded garments to punctuate his order.

“Get in.” – you mimicked his tone and continued bobbing around in the water.

After some useless grunts and empty threats, Clyde realized there was no reasoning with you in this state and you had him exactly where you wanted him – stripping down to his unmentionables and wading into the water to pull you out by force.

“How are ya not freezin’?” – he asked, teeth chattering instantly as cold water stabbed painfully through his body.

“It’s marvelous, you just have to give in to it.” – you hummed, finding his rigid arm in the water and pulling him close.

It had to be the fairy wine keeping you warm, or at least giving you the illusion you were warm. But for how long, he wondered with a coil of dread twisting in his stomach.

While he was busy thinking of your temperature, you wrapped your arms around him and pushed yourself close, your buoyant chest bobbing right under his chin.

“Oh, Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven, help me.” – Clyde moaned out a little prayer and shut his eyes tight, like not seeing your face and chest did anything when you arms were wrapped around his neck and body pressed up close.

You giggled at how hard he was fighting against something so simple and natural. – “I thought you would be having a better time.” – you mused, legs wrapping around his waist and locking at the ankles behind him, one hand lazily running through his damp hair.

With his eyes still shut tight like you were a monster under his bed, he huffed. – “I have never been happier, if that means anything, but I am also terrified. This ain’t right.” – he tried again to reach past the magic playing with your senses, to you.

“I think it is.” – you shrugged and planted a kiss right on his full, trembling lips. It was easy with his eyes closed. You felt his whole body jolt from the contact, like a whip cracked at his backside. He groaned, vibrating against your mouth, as you left a few quick pecks on his bluish-tinted lips and pulled back a little.

“See, ya can’t do that.” – he warned and it was the exact wrong thing to say. A part of him felt he knew that by now, but he was still compelled to say it and see if you would do it again.

The only resistance he could offer, lacking the strength of character and mobility of body to pull away, was to at least not give into your nips and your insistent tongue prodding to be let in, as much as his blood might be boiling from it.

When you slackened your hold again, Clyde deftly managed to spring free of you limbs and body, backing away towards the shore. – “That was the last one.” – he said deliberately this time, knowing exactly what effect that had on you.

You lurched forward again, ready to kiss on him until he either drowned or his resolve was broken, but the oddest thing happened.

Cold water splashed right across your face, like a sharp slap and it momentarily made you sober up. You looked at Clyde indignantly and his face and posture told you he was prepared to do it again if necessary.

*

You just know the man-at-arms is gonna be peak angst and hurt/comfort, which I'm pretty Clyde's blood type <3

I can't wait to get to that one and hop right in that tub!

Thank you so so much for your kindness and enthusiasm about these stories, it means everything to me <3 You have made my day twice in a row and I can never repay you <3