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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics and @cafekitsune

Now

"Fuck you," you spat the words.

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.

Please, fix this.

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"

"Don’t fucking touch me. Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."

"Can you just—"

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.

He deserved it either way.

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh.

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."

"Oh."

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize.

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.

Could you ever forgive him?

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take.

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.

Thump, thump, thump.

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.

"Good"

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."

Then

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.

"I’m James."

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.

Now

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now.

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.

But he couldn’t say anything.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you.

"Say something!"

"You’re beautiful."

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said.

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You sighed.

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women.

"They had traces of the super serum."

Fuck.

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.

"Yeah."

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization.

This was different, though. This was sinister.

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."

"Well, let’s take him in and—"

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.

Compromise. You could do compromise.

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.

So he agreed.

"Yeah."

"Good. I’ll meet you outside."

Then

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.

The man was hotter than the sun.

"No problem." you smiled at him.

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."

"You would?" he questioned.

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.

You made him smile for the first time.

"Yeah. I’d like that."

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.

Now

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.

Broken.

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.

"Bucky!"

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him.

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn’t."

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."

"Oh."

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.

"He said you’re going to therapy."

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."

You hummed, sipping on your tea.

"Does it work?"

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself

But he broke the silence.

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed.

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.

A cup of lavender tea.

Then

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora.

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.

"It’s ok. I got you."

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed.

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

He would give you anything you asked for.

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.

Now

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.

"I—"

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."

"He was about to torture you!"

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"

"I’ve always cared."

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.

"Sure."

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.

"Look at me."

You swatted him away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."

"I never stopped loving you."

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart.

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.

"I’m sorry."

A lapse of judgment.

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had.

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been.

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken.

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his.

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.

Beg me, your eyes said.

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment.

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.

"Fuck."

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."

"Me too." he finally admitted.

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.

"Inside."

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."

Then

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.

Oh, how right you had been.

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.

Bucky had been real.

With his departure, he had also taken your heart.

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.

That is, until a ray of hope appeared.

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.

Steve left shortly after.

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.

This Bucky never hugged you.

This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.

This Bucky never said I love you.

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.

Things got worse a couple of months later.

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence.

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.

You were wrong.

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.

You left with half a heart that night.

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.

"Hi."

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.

"Yeah, of sorts."

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.

"Oh."

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.

"You have a nice place here."

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

It couldn’t be.

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.

"Clara let me in."

No.

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run.

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

His mouth answered without his permission.

"Does it even matter?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.

Now

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you.

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room.

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern.

"You ok?" he had whispered.

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out.

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress.

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance. A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot.

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever.

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment."

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would."

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."

Hope. A tiny silver of hope.

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness.

Forever

"Thanks for helping me."

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with.

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.

"How was your date?"

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you.

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Barnes.

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.

"What?"

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.

"Bucky, ask me."

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.

This time, neither of you was scared.

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

Tag list: @wintasssoldier @fallenoutofrose @cjand10 @nouk1998 @smplymrvl @littlemiss-yeehaw @magnificentsvn @kentokaze @gostodosopa @musicgirl44 @rebloggingmyrecs @mbindzus-blog @pampeop @buckystwilight @blackhawkfanatic @miss-i-ship-it @bibliophilewednesday

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months

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Find Your Way Back Home: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: minor angst, fluff, implied smut at the end

Summary: You and Dean finally reunite after being apart for so long. Emotions are high, confessions are given, and you think you might be falling in love with him all over again.

Author’s Note: This is the final part of six parts of the commission for @winchester-sinchester. Dean is thirty-one, the reader is twenty-three, and Sam is twenty-seven.

You and Sam haven’t been together since that fateful night. You couldn’t face Dean for days until you made yourself realize that you shouldn’t feel guilty for moving on. He clearly had. After coming to that realization on your own, hunting with Dean became a helluva lot easier. You’re done feeling guilty for a man who couldn’t even decide if he wanted you or not. His body says yes but his actions say no.

You’re not sure which answer you’re prepared to hear.

You can’t really focus on your relationship with Dean since Sam is such a big problem in and of itself. He became so much worse from when you got Dean; nearly killing Bobby, killing innocents in the name of a hunt, letting Dean get turned into a vampire, putting you in the line of fire multiple times, and so much more.

Dean couldn’t take it after almost hurting Bobby so he made a deal with Death who got Sam’s soul for him from the cage. He put a big Great Wall of Sam inside his head that protected him from the things he did while being soulless, so as long as he didn’t go poking at it, everything will be fine.

He poked at it until it crumbled.

The only thing that saved him from the endless torment of Lucifer is Castiel who came in and took Sam’s pain as his own. Castiel took on Lucifer so that Sam could walk free. That’s when his path to redemption began, starting with everyone he wronged and ending with you. Sam couldn’t look at you for days after figuring out that you and he had sex for nearly a year while Dean was playing house with Lisa.

“Sam, we both consented to it. You don’t have to be sorry,” you sigh.

“I know but I took advantage of you.”

“Actually, I took advantage of you. You were the perfect distraction from my feelings for Dean. You gave me what I needed when I needed it. Don’t be sorry for that.”

“Promise we’re okay?”

“I promise,” you smile at him.

“Good. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Sam gets up from your bed and leaves the motel room you got yourself. It’s hard to see him as the soft and lovable person you grew up with instead of the monster he became, but it took time for your heart to heal from him. The only thing incomplete in your life is Dean. You’re not sure what you’re going to do about him. He’s acting like he didn’t toy with your feelings for years and that’s honestly pissing you off.

He promised not to leave you but then again, he promised a lot of things that he never kept.

Someone knocks on your motel door and you walk over to it with a sigh. Thinking it’s Sam, you start talking before you can open the door.

“Look, I told you I’ve already forgiven you.”

You open the door mid-sentence and see Dean standing there with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Really?”

“I thought you were someone else.” You turn to go back to your bag which is sitting on your bed. You’re about to take a shower so your shower stuff is lying on the bed. Dean walks in and closes the door behind him. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have Lisa waiting for you at home?”

“I ended it with her.”

You’re not sure what to say for a few seconds. You were expecting a lot of things, just not that.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage.

“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For leaving you.”

You don’t know why but this pisses you off more than it should. You swiftly turn to face Dean with a glare and cross your arms.

“For which time exactly? The first time when you took my virginity and promised not to leave? Or how about the time after that?” You give a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know, it’s the time when you fucked me and left me in the middle of the night to be with some woman you haven’t connected with in eight years. Tell me, Dean, what time you’re referring to?”

“Sweetheart--”

“No, don’t sweetheart me. I am so fucking pissed at you because not only did you leave me multiple times, but you took my heart with you every time until there was nothing left of me to give. To anyone. Are you sorry about that? Are you sorry for making me fall in love with you?”

Dean runs his hands through his hair and yanks on the short strands in frustration.

“Fuck, Y/N, it was because I fell in love with you that I had to leave.”

“What?” you whisper.

“I found myself falling for you, more with each day I spent with you. Shit, you were only eighteen when I allowed myself to feel something for you, to see you other than the kid I met at the park. It took everything in me to walk away because I’m so fucked in the head. I’ve gotten more people killed than I am able to save, and it’s because they knew me. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I thought if I left, you would move on to someone else, someone who could give you what I couldn’t.

“Then, I found myself back in your arms. It hurt me to leave. No, it killed me to leave. Lisa was out of the life. She was away from it all. I felt like if I took you out of the life, I’d be taking you away from doing the one thing you love the most. Helping people. I know how much you love hunting. If I stayed, I felt like I’d get you killed, especially after Sam went into the cage. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if that happened.

“Yes, I could have handled it better, but I’m here now, ready to atone for my mistakes.” Dean sinks to his knees in front of you as if he’s a servant and you’re his royal subject. “I’ll beg if I have to.” You can’t find the words for him. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable in his entire life than he is in this moment. “Sweetheart, you’re the only woman I love more than anyone. Sometimes more than Sammy. I hate that it took me this long to realize it, but I won’t stop until I put your heart back together. After all, I have all the pieces.”

The longer you stay silent, the more Dean suffers. You already know what your answer is going to be, but you make him suffer just for being an ass over the years. When he looks ready to burst into tears, you speak.

“I don’t know, Dean, it might take a while. I quite like the sight of you on your knees for me,” you smirk.

Dean walks on his knees over to you until he is pressed against you. He grabs your hips to steady himself and presses a kiss on the patch of skin above your waistband from where your shirt had ridden up.

“I can smell you,” he whispers with a smirk.

Yes, the sight of Dean on his knees makes you wet no matter what kind of conversation you’re having.

“Yeah? Do you want to taste me?”

“Sweetheart, you know you’ve always been my favorite meal.”

He lightly pushes you onto the bed so you’re lying flat on it, and he grabs the waistband of your shorts to pull down your legs. You must be fucked in the goddamn head because it doesn’t seem to matter how much time has passed, your heart will always belong to Dean.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernaturalfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn #spn fic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fluff #spn angst

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h7jfangirl · 2 months

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TGS UPTADE (Chapter Cover) ✨🎩

I love this one, I think it's my favorite cover until this point.

Jekyll has his old outfit I LOVE THE REFERENCES

Guys, ITS THE OLD DESING GUYS.

When I saw this cover, my first thoughs of it weren't the most pessimist, really

The colors are soft and lighter, and the place looks beautiful and peacful, it gave me nostalgic vibes but I mostly felt... Comfort

So I though this chapter would be the star of the final redemption arc of Jekyll's and Hyde's relationship, the chapter where all their fight would finally end for good and start to actually accept themselfs and work together as a team

I interpret Hyde's expression as a "Wait what!?" Reaction to actual self-love coming from Jekyll, and read the name of this chapter as something of "We are a team! We are together in this! So if one of us goes down, we are going down together! I would never ever leave you alone!" Like a thing of friendship or Brotherhood even.

But after reading the Comment Section in the page, I finally notice that something was off in the cover, a simple detail telling that this may not be a 'end of the conflict' type of chapter

And that simple detail...

It's Jekyll

I really hope he goes insane in this chapter, like ACTUAL insanity, I love when a calm character goes through a 'madness arc' and sadly I don't see it often so I WANNA SEE SOME GOOD SHIT.

Jekyll is grabing Hyde's clothes very strongerly, you can feel the anger on his grabing and how close he puts his face towards Hyde's.

His body says "I'm about to kick this asshole's ass"

But the thing is that he is also... Smiling. You can't see his eyes but there is a shadow on them that you can tell something it's not okay, something it's wrong with Henry but not in the "Poor victim" type that we always had see him before, on the whole comic

But in "This man is dangerous" type

So, with that grin and his body looking agressive towards Hyde, you can said Edward may be in danger in this chapter.

Predictions~

Now, everybody agrees that the place we were shown it's actually part of Jekyll's mind, a memory actually. So, I think that somehow Jekyll and Edward will both go inside their memories, to see what were the events that lead them to this specific moment

Maybe with Frankestein's help, in a intent of her to understand the experiment's true nature, also trying to help Jekyll and Hyde to they can finally understand it too (THEY ARE TAKING A THERAPY SESSION TO A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL)

They go both inside their own memories because the transformation got worse, and now their body is unconsious, so it would be only Jekyll and Hyde alone inside their mind, finally being able to stand in the same room at the same time, and netheir of them knowing what will happend outside, now that Frankestein knows their secret and the mob it's still out there

So of course, Henry wouldnt have someone who could help him and calm himself, so he is blaming Hyde for the situation as Hyde avoiding the accusations and also blaming Henry too. The rest of the chapter would be about them looking at their memories and reflecting about their actions

But of course, I can imagine two final scenarios happening, based on the scenario shown on the cover actually happening. They finally go together to see a old memory, and they are both close to the cliff, seeing the place

So, Henry finally has the conclusion of blaming Hyde for all the situation, and snaps angst him, deciding to end this just right there, now that he is able to touch and feel Edward's skin as if he had his own body, as a another person he can fully touch

So there is two options:

Jekyll's grabs Hyde's clothes and makes both of them jump to the water, accepting the death as a end but making sure to drag Hyde with him as well, so it feels actually worth it. Of course this being a moment similar to Hyde's ephifany when he is told that he could take down Jekyll as well.

But of course, in this case we'll see Jekyll's perspective to this words "Taking you down with me" (I love how similar they are, even if they turned out to be so different from each other, somehow they are still the same person)

Or, there is this other option. Jekyll actually dosen't jump to the cliff but instead, he shove Hyde to the cliff in a intent of murder him, being mostly like a metaphoric suicide rather than a direct one (Because they are the same person after all). The reason why Jekyll is also jumping in the cover may be a symbolic jump as "Going insane/Jumping the cliff of sanity" for doing something so brutal that the normal and sane Dr Jekyll wouldnt do... Push a person on a cliff, to kill them. So not only this would be a intent to kill Hyde but at the same time accidently murder the person he used to be, the good Dr Henry Jekyll

(Jekyll also jumping can be more like of "how he feels" rather than something literal, he feels atrap and his only company is Hyde, and I dare to say he is the person Jekyll hates the most at this point).

Of course, in any scenario, nethier of them would actually die (yet) because there is like two chapters left to finish this comic, duh

But I like to think about the Second Option. Because it could also explain those spoiler images Sage share in their social media a while ago

There it was another one with Jekyll with a lot of bottles around but I couldn't find it.

Because I think it would fit in. After pushing Hyde on the cliff Jekyll goes out and takes back the body's control and fix the angry mob problem, thinking he has done right in killing Hyde, when actually you can see that he dosen't has his normal eyes anymore but now has Hyde's bags in him (Of course, it could be for the fact that he climp up the society to get in the roof, but I don't think he would like to being seen very tired) meaning that Jekyll has change, in a more hyde-like way. Hyde is not death, and Jekyll's actions will have more consequences, as long they keep fighting each other there will be no end to their problems.

So, this is the tgs UPTADE. I like everyone in the fandom started to make theories like crazy and I love every single one of them.

Sorry for my bad english hehe bye~

#he used to #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs #tgs update #tgs hyde #sorry for my bad english #henry jekyll #tgs laynon #I want insane Jekyll so baaaad #and not something like oh it's Hyde directly controling his body #no I want Jekyll just Jekyll damnit #I think it would be cool if in this point we start to see how Jekyll and Hyde would slowly swap their roles #not only in their personalitys but fisically #as Hyde realising the depth of his actions he starts to look more like Jekyll (Like before Henry made the formula) and #as Jekyll starts to losing it he eventually looks more like Hyde #so basically #they slowly turn into the other #but of course they keep their original colors #so the finally showdown would be them facing their worst and best treats and finally accept every aspect of themselfs #of course I imagine Hyde acting more sweet and soft as a Jekyll #and Jekyll being actually more sinester and elegant as a Hyde #like they are still themselfs somehow but now with the other aspects of their personalitys #the good and the bad ones duh #they both have flaws so yeah I think that can work

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xxx-silhouette-xxx · 1 year

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Am I the only one disappointed with season 3 of The Mandalorian?

Contains SPOILERS - so skip if you don’t wanna know

Tonight was, painful.

I’ve REALLY been trying to hang on with an open mind but after tonight, there’s no going back.

And I’ve got some things to get off my chest.

Din Djarin has had NO character development from the sacrifice he made for Grogu’s life. This has been inarguably, the biggest disappointment for me. I was hoping for a season of exploration of a man’s moral compass and worldview being hauled upside down, a young boy who’d been orphaned, traumatised and taken in by a cult that raised him with titanium religious beliefs. Who grew into a hardened bounty hunter but gave up everything he knew for the sake of a lost child. Became shunned for protecting said child and despite doing what he felt was right, strived to seek redemption and forgiveness. There was so much potential for Din as a character in terms of growth and development, all of which was swept under a rug within the first two episodes. He has instead become apart of Disney’s formula of “the boss ladies side bitch” with nothing to add to the scene but his catchphrase “this is the way”. That and the sudden revival of his hate for droids even though he had been working on that issue in past seasons.

Grogu is more or less the commodity Disney grew cash dollar signs in their eyes over for the sake of product marketing and just have him doing cutesy shit for the sake of being cutesy.

And then there’s Bo Katan.

Now disclaimer - I’m not the type that hates an actual person for a character they play. Yes, I’ve never liked Bo Katan (that much I’ve made clear in recent posts) but I also think that Katee Sackhoff does a brilliant job playing a character as such. And to see her come to life in season 2 was incredible and to me, Bo Katan from season two is the REAL Bo Katan.

Because I’m sure as hell disappointed with what they’ve done to her character in season 3. Bo Katan was a terrorist who broke away from Mandalore unable to accept a new direction in leadership from her own sister. She massacred and terrorised innocent people, she plotted towards the death of her sister, splintered off from her terrorist group after the throne of Mandalore was taken by Maul and continued to fight against his loyalists and later the empire itself.

And we all saw the look of death on her face when Gideon pointed out that the dark Sabre belonged to Din

This isn’t someone I was rooting for but this was someone who didn’t know when to give up and would go to any means possible to get what they wanted. This is the same woman who made an oath in the throne room of Mandalore, saying that an outsider would never rule the people. The odds were against her in many ways yet she still fought like hell…. Where is that woman? And who replaced her with Disney’s first emo teen princess whose suddenly forgotten her xenophobic upbringing?

And as for Lizzo and Jack Black’s appearances in episode six?

My partner said it best when he commented that they turn the whole show into a parody of itself.

Personally, I found Christopher Loyd’s character as flat as cardboard and an absolutely pointless goose chase used to build up momentum all to throw away the opportunity for a twist ending.

It really breaks my heart to see the series diminish into what it has. The whole reason people fell in love with the show was due to Din and Grogu’s father son dynamic and that’s all been thrown to the side in favour of other characters, setting up for the future of other shows and tying off the ends to the sequels.

Season three completely lacks the drive and purpose of the previous seasons.

It should and could have been so much more than what it is.

And Din Djarin deserved more depth in his story then to be abandoned to the side lines.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian season 3 #din djarin #pedro pascal #star wars #mando #mando spoilers #mando fanfiction #katee sackhoff

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lilbitdepressed27 · 9 months

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Donna Beneviento/Fem!Reader

Summary: your her soulmate

Warnings: none

WC: 2.9k

Authors note: to the anon who requested a Donna/reader I hope you like it :)

You had been running for quite some time now. Having to avoid the villagers was hard enough as it is but now it was raining and you felt like your legs could give out at any second. This could have been easily avoided if you had just kept your trap shut. But no, you had been in a saloon gathering your bearings and trying to figure out why you were in this village.

Since you were a child you had a pull in your heart that made living uncomfortable. When you had asked your mother why, she had thought you were sick and took you to the doctors. But when they found nothing your mom thought you were crazy and just wanted attention. So you stopped telling her when your chest would start hurting and doing the weird pulling. This went on till you were twenty-two. Once you had the money you allowed the pull to lead you.

That's how you ended up in Romania. This hadn't been nothing like what you saw on the internet. The place had given you a weird vibe. Feeling like you went in a time machine and went back a few good years. This place was like a darker version of red dead redemption. But you'd do anything to get answers on the weird pull. So you thought it'd be smart to ask the bartender at the saloon.

It was not.

He screamed witch and that's how you ended up running through the dark forrest. You were able to escape being burned to death. You were bleeding and you were sure you were bruising as well. Having to fight your way out of there. Then you had no choice but to run into the forrest. Never would you have thought that you would be chased with torches and pitchforks.

But at a certain moment they stopped and you only had a second to catch your breath. You fumbled with your inhaler. Taking deep breaths trying to calm down your racing heart and aching lungs. Just when you caught your breath, you heard the villagers once again closing in.

"Fuck." You whizzed out. You noticed the most turning a weird yellowish color. Before you could really take in what was happening as you were running up the hill you stumbled on branches and roots. You heard the screams of terror from those villagers. You tried to run faster but you were losing energy quickly. Hearing the footsteps behind you grow closer. At the heavy breathing of those villagers.

Right when one of the villagers, you noticed it was the bartender that called you a witch was only a few inches away from grabbing you he suddenly, stopped? Causing you to fall and roll into a ball covering your head. You heard the bartender screaming and begging but you didn't pay them any attention.

The silence that followed was loud. The only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing. You tried to find your inhaler with out rising your head. But you came up empty. Whimpering in pain when breathing was becoming harder. You felt what could be a small hand tapping your shoulder. When you looked up you saw that the hand belonged to a doll. That was moving on its own. Even though the doll was creepy in her white dress you saw she was holding your inhaler. She held out her wooden arms offering you the inhaler. Even though the doll was straight up terrifying, you felt...safe. You took your inhaler with shaky hands. And took it, shaking it before taking two puffs.

You stood on shaky legs feeling the dolls hands helping you up. You weren't sure why it was helping you but as long as it didn't hurt you. You figured it was safe.

"Th-Thank you." When you were able to calm down you looked down at the doll. Eyes widen when you saw a woman in all black, wearing a veil. Standing behind the doll. She was around your height. You stood a few inches taller. The familiar pull growing stronger when your eyes connected with the woman. Even though you couldn't see the woman's face you could feel the connection. The pull of the heart getting stronger. The woman held out her hand. Her rather small hand.

"Come with me, you'll be safe." A feminine voice rang out. The pull again was the thing to lead you to take the woman's hand.

You came to learn that her name was Donna and the doll was Angie. She was your soulmate apparently, Donna had explained she felt the same pull. Which was why she was in the woods last night. She had felt the pull stronger than ever and closer she got to you the stronger it got but it also grew warmer.

Soulmate.

This beautiful woman was your soulmate. You haven't seen her face but you knew she was beautiful. She sounds beautiful. Her voice was smooth, it was something you could listen to all day. She had explained how she researched on the pull.

When Mother Miranda had found out about the pull. She had barged into her home and demanded to know about it. Mother Miranda had never heard of such a thing and she wanted to know. Donna had explained it the best she could. Angie was the one do most of the explanation. When they were done Mother Miranda had told her that she’d never find her soulmate. That she’d never be loved. That any one would run the other direction when the saw her face. The words had echoed the her brain the more she thought of her soulmate.

But when the pull had started to feel closer to her she shot out of her house. She couldn’t believe it. Her soul mate was coming to her. From the pull she could feel that you were in danger. Angie had also felt it. They both hurried towards the direction of the pull. Finding you in a fetal position. A man standing in front of you with a axe, ready to struck down. Angie was the one to attack the man. But Donna had finished the job.

No one was to hurt you.

Donna had been surprised at how calm you were taking everything in. Ever since the fall of Mother Miranda things had been quiet. Her siblings kept to themselves and their areas while she stayed alone in hers. She couldn't complain. She liked being alone with her friends. The dolls have always been here with her, making her feel not as alone. But with the pull she had always felt this longing for someone. She was the smartest of the lords but yet she couldn't explain why she had this connection with you. The overwhelming need to protect you from the those villagers. Was so strong it was something she never felt before.

Donna knew from the moment she saw you she wouldn't be able to let you go.

It had been a week since you found your soulmate. You had yet to see her face, which you didn't mind you wanted her to feel comfortable with you. You and Angie got along pretty great. She was basically a child in a dolls body. It was how Donna had explained it to you.

"Look see that's a lion and I'm right there petting him. He really likes the belly rubs." You were showing Angie pictures you had taken with your Polaroid camera. You had plenty of pictures from the journey of following the pull. You taken the pictures of everything little thing you encountered on your journey to her. Hoping to show who ever was at the end of the pull.

"That's so cool. It's like a big kitty."

"Well they kinda are, lions, tigers, jaguar, leopard and snow leopards are big cats."

You and Angie continued to look through the pictures on the floor. She had moved to sit on your lap. You leaned back on the couch where Donna sat. She had a book in her hands but you could feel her eyes on the back of your head. You could tell that she was also looking at the pictures.

"Who's that?" You heard Donna finally speak from behind you.

You looked down at the picture to see that it was one of you standing facing the camera with a beaming smile on your face. But what was behind you was a woman. An older woman, your grandma. She was a beautiful older woman with an even more beautiful soul. She had believed you all those times you'd tell her about the pull. She had told you she had felt the same pull that lead her to your grandpa. He had been a great man. Your grandparents had always believed you. It was the main reason why you decided to follow the pull. Your grandpa passed when you were twenty and the year that followed your grandma passed as well. Her final words go you had been to follow the pull. Leaving you with an allowance that would cover your journey and then some.

In the picture the older woman stood right beside you. Your smile had matched with the older woman, Donna took in the older woman features noticing the burn mark covering the right eye of the older woman. The burn scar was huge, long and covered most the woman's right eye. The half of the eyebrow was gone due to the burn. But never the less the woman smiled.

"Oh that's my grandma. Uh she was attacked when she was younger." You said in a gentle voice, remembering how your grandma told you about her day she was attacked. "She was attacked all because of the color of her skin."

"Oh I'm sorry, people can be cruel to those who are simply different."

In the way she said it, you knew she was speaking from experience. Your heart screamed to go comfort her but you didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Yea, but I loved my grandma either way and so did my grandpa. I don't think I've ever seen someone so in love. What my grandparents had was special. It's what most be would die for." Angie was still in your lap looking at all the picture that had any type of animals in them. Which happened to be a lot.

"Your grandfather didn't care about the scars?"

The question was asked with so much disbelief, confusion and longing?

"Yea he didn't care. He always admired her beauty. Reassuring her that there was no other woman like her. Grandma always said that the scars had made her insecure but with grandpa around he would always do whatever he could to make sure she knew that she was loved."

"Sounds like he was a good man." It seemed like she was deep in thought.

"He was."

****

The day carried on you and Angie spending time drawing. Donna was in her office working on some paper work while she was also talking on the phone.

“Don’t take it personal Y/n. We have had a hard time trusting others. It’s not you really. She just needs time.” The doll whispered.

“I’ll give her all the time she needs. I’m not going anywhere Angie.”

You continued drawing in silence cracking some jokes here and there. Making the doll laugh. It was until you heard the a soft raspy voice call your name from behind you. You turned around and saw Donna standing there fiddling with her fingers.

“I would like for you to stay. But I also would like for me to explain somethings to you.” Her voice coming out confident but you could also hear the shakiness in her voice.

“Okay Donna we can take it at your pace.”

She sat down on the floor with you her hands smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on her dress. With some hesitation on your part you took her hand in yours. You heard the hitch in her breathing. It took her a second for her fingers to intertwine with yours. But when they did you swore she could hear your rapid heart beat.

“I have a this cadou, this has caused a deformation on my left eye. It’s also allowed me to control Angie and control plantes. Cause hallucinations. Moth-A woman named Miranda had put it in me after she killed my family. She had manipulated me, I was alone and scared and she used that to her advantage. Miranda was a terrible person, she wanted me to use these abilities to hurt others. I couldn’t do that, when the time came my siblings who were others in Miranda’s control had developed a plan to take her down. We were successful. Since then I’ve kept to myself.”

With every word you had felt the anger in you grow. You didn’t care that she had, powers? You didn’t care that she could kill. You didn’t care about the scar she was obviously insecure about. You loved this woman. Your soulmate. To know that there was a woman that hurt her physically and mentally. You had wanted to murder that woman.

“The day I saved you, I used my abilities to make those villagers see their worst nightmares. The pollen around my home has always affected others. But to you. You had breathed it in and you were fine. I want would love for you to stay here with me Y/n. These past days you had proved to me that you would. I just hope you would still stay after I show you my face.”

The hold you had of her hand you gave it a gentle squeeze. “Donna I’m not going anywhere. That’s a promise.” With a shaky exhale she let go of your hand. Her hands raising to her veil. Your heart breaking when you noticed how they shook.

“Donna you don’t have to sh-I want to. Really. I just never shown anyone.”

The first feature you noticed was her soft plump lips. Her skin was pale but it looked so soft. Then followed her nose but when you saw her nose you also saw the start of her scar. The more she lift her veil, the more the you were able to see the scar. It was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. But what really got your attention was her eye. Her eye color was a beautiful dark green. Almost looking gray. You couldn’t help the smile, she was the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You hands raised up to touch her cheeks. Hovering momentarily asking for permission.

Donna looked you in aw. There was no sign of disgust or horror in your eyes. It was quite the opposite. She took in that your eyes were filled with love. Something she’s never experienced. She couldn’t help the tears that filled her eye. The way your hands cupped her cheeks when she gave the okay that you could touch her. The way your soft hands caressed her cheeks. The way your touch just made her feel so loved. She couldn’t help but to lean into your touch.

“Oh Donna. You’re beautiful, no stop-” You didn’t let her pull away from your touch. You knew you’d have to make her believe you. You’d keep trying till she accepts that she’s beautiful or you die. “You are Donna. This scar just shows how strong you are. You said yourself, that Miranda did the experiment on many others and they didn’t make it. You did. You’re strong. You’re beautiful. And you’re my soulmate. I’ll love you till the day I die.”

Your hands still cupping her cheeks. She had brought up her own hand putting it over yours. “I’d love nothing more amore mío. Ti ho aspettato così tanto.”

You smiled letting out a small chuckle, “I don’t know what you said but that was hot. I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

With a heavy blush on her cheeks at the compliment Donna smiled, your thumb wiping her tears away. “I said I waited so long for you, I did not know what I was messing at first. But know I do. You. I was missing you.”

You moved your hands and wrapped your arms around her waist. You leaned forward just a bit. Your foreheads almost touching. “You don’t have to wait anymore. I’m right here. And I’m not leaving you or Angie. You’re stuck with me now.” You leaned in and stopped your lips only inches away.

Donna bit her lip, ‘be brave’ Angie repeated in her head. She leaned in the rest of the way. She couldn’t describe what it felt like to kiss you. Her soul had never felt so happy and complete. Her heart felt like it would be best out of her chest from the happiness she felt. Her sister Alcina spoke of the feeling. Donna had listened how Alcina spoke about the carpenter that worked in the castle. Donna had always thought that she’d never experience the love her sister had. But here she was. Kissing her soulmate.

Donna laid your arms after the kiss. She rested her head on your chest. Listening to your rapid heartbeat. The longer she laid there she heard the steadiness of your heart rate return. It was a rhythm she could listen to for a long time. She felt your strong arms around her body like a weighted blanket. Making her drift into a deep sleep.

It was the most peaceful sleep she had ever taken.

She was loved.

Mother Miranda was wrong.

#donna beneviento #donna benevento x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #fem reader

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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

Then Go (Part II of II)

Cassian x Reader, in which Cassian leaves the Night Court to be with you. I don't think you guys are expecting this ending lol but it was pretty fun to write, not reflective of my thoughts on Tamlin's redemption arc ;) @azsazz came up with the ending (surprise surprise lol)

Part I here!

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: fighting (forgive the fight scene ok I hate those), character death

The flight back to Spring was tense.

You and Cassian had only ever had a few arguments over the past couple years - petty squabbles, pointless arguments, superficial bickering - the two of you never had anything to truly fight about. Not that you were fighting, really, but he hadn’t spoken more than six sentences - fragments - in the past few hours.

Even when you two had been at odds, Cassian never shied away; in fact, the male became even more vocal, if that was even possible, always voicing his thoughts and opinions, quipping at you with smartass remarks or snarky comments.

But he hadn’t been speaking; it was… new to you. He came back to his bedchamber utterly beat. And you felt bad, deciding while he was gone talking to Rhys that you’d still pretend you were mad when he came back, sitting back against the headboard with your arms crossed over your chest, just as he left you - you’d let him make it up to you, make you forget all about his friends’ behavior. It was selfish of you, you realized, but Cassian would have been all too eager.

Despite the minimal experience you’d had living with the mating bond, you knew immediately that something was wrong. Normally you felt butterflies through the bond, a fluttering beat, the warm compassion your mate sent you. You’d felt it gone cold, empty while he trained in the war camps, too afraid that it would be a distraction that could cost him his life, or that others could find out and use it against him - or you.

You’d never been in a fight, never served in the war - not like he had, protecting his friends, family, even mere strangers. You didn’t bear scars - not in the way he did, marking up each limb, mangled gashes that lingered over his neck and face, adorned every inch of his wings. He was a male that sacrificed far more than you ever thought possible, and had been on the brink of death too many times to count (too many times than you felt comfortable with, honestly).

But the pain you’d felt that evening in the Night Court - it was the closest thing you could imagine to that pain, to the pain of being torn apart and your corpse cast aside. You felt your heart breaking, the string pulling so hard you thought you might throw up right on the bed.

He needed help.

You couldn’t even clamber to your feet fast enough as he appeared in the doorway, silent - so quiet that even the spymaster himself would have been proud. Barely any words were spoken, just a hauntingly sad glance exchanged between the two of you. It would have been better off if he hadn’t said anything at all. His voice sliced through the air, despite how quiet his words were. His voice was gruff, throat horse - not like the groggy Cassian, tired and not ready to wake up, it wasn’t the sad Cassian, voice cracking and strained. It must have been anger, the irate side of the male you had yet to see up close. “Let’s go.”

It was all he said, tone clipped and terse, that sent chills down your spine - and through the bond.

You were quick to scramble to your feet, almost afraid to approach the male in his livid state. He appeared calm, arms stiff at his sides, but seething, chest rising and falling steadily, forced. Cassian was seeing red; he himself didn’t even know he had that amount of self restraint.

And you’d felt bad - he’d wanted to introduce you to his friends - his family - since virtually the first day you met.

So you weren’t fighting, but you felt guilty for letting him take you to Night. It was a fear you didn’t share with the male - not fully really.

“What if they don’t like me?” What if they don’t like where I come from?

Cassian brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “They’ll love you as I do, (Y/N).” His voice was nothing above a whisper, no hesitation, no doubt, no fear behind his reply.

You had a feeling they wouldn’t approve of your Spring heritage - hell, the prejudice of the Night Court Fae ran high in Spring, too. Many of the goers in your own home court didn’t like the fact an Illyrian soldier lingered in their court - you surely figured the Night Court would feel the same about you. It didn’t matter to any of them - Spring or Night - that the two of you were fated mates. He hadn’t cared about those strangers in Spring who passed him on the street - but you didn’t have an Inner Circle like his: friends and family that would protect him at any cost, even if that meant leaving his mate.

Cassian chose you, though. Despite the faux protection Rhysand and Feyre offered him - they left him with the sour options. They were prepared for him to leave, they knew he would; otherwise, they wouldn’t have given him the choice.

And you didn’t dare say those words, the ones you knew Cassian was waiting for you to utter: I told you so.

That would hurt too much.

You didn’t want to be right. Never in any world would you have wished this pain on your mate - the same pain he’d gone through however many years ago when his mother died, when he was teased endlessly in the camps about being a bastard.

And hundreds of years later, he found himself in the same position: outcast, ostracized by his so-called family.

The only thing that kept him sane was you - clinging to him for dear life as he raced through the courts back to Spring. You didn’t question him, but he knew you quietly understood what had happened between him and the High Lord and High Lady of his home court. He felt your panic through the bond once he’d left that conversation, answering the royalty of the court by turning on his heel and leaving.

Nobody had tried to stop him, either.

Rhys and Feyre did not protest as the male made his way from the room. Not a peep from Morrigan or the other Archeron sisters, who were no doubt listening from the doorway. Cassian felt Lucien lingering, though, Cassian supposed he would be the one male who understood. Amren was nowhere to be seen, Azriel missing as well.

But a shadow swirled around Cassian’s ankle as he ascended the stairs back to his bedroom, a silent promise from his brother that he’d be visiting soon.

Cassian had often been jealous of both of his brothers’ winnowing abilities - he hadn’t felt that way since he was a young male. But he had wished for nothing more in that moment, so he didn’t have to tread down the long halls with his tail tucked between his legs, a hound kicked out of his home.

He landed not-so-gracefully at your front door, knees buckling as he staggered forward, trying his damndest to protect you from the force of impact. The dirt from the street kicked up around you, the dark muck swirling around you - Cassian wished it’d swallow him whole.

He didn’t know what to do. His younger self wanted to fly off without a trace, far north of Windhaven or the other Illyrian camps, punishing himself in the cold. He’d pick a fight with the largest tree he could find, punching the thick bark until his knuckles bled and his fingers broke. He’d fly low and fast, so close to the icy river that flecks of freezing water pricked his skin as the waves crashed through the ice shards below him.

But you were there in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around him, probably afraid he’d drop you. He flew so fast - he wasn’t sure he’d ever gone that fast while carrying another Fae in his arms, especially not one with such little flying experience. Your face was pressed tightly against his neck, your nose was cold from the windchill that graced the both of you.

Cassian stood there, frozen, right in the middle of the village. He didn’t move - he didn’t know how to move; didn’t know where he should go, what he should do. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips against the frigid skin of his neck that he snapped out of his trance, clutching at you harder, fingers grasping the thick material of your dress. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the crown of your head.

Hundreds of years of friendship, thousands of battles fought together, millions of fights picked with each other. All traded in for a female he knew for almost just a decade.

A decade he’d spent the better part of keeping you a secret from his family.

Perhaps on some level he expected this, knew how they would treat you.

Not that he doubted you - he hadn’t questioned your love for him, your dedication, your willingness to do the same for him. He didn’t question or curse the Mother, not when she gave him a lovely Spring female.

Gods, he just felt so weird.

Starting from scratch again.

____________________________________

Cassian had to find something to busy himself with.

He no longer had to tend to the Illyrian camps, no training with the Valkyries or battle strategies to hound over.

But old habits die hard - he woke before the sun everyday, utterly exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well, just reliving that terrible night in his head over and over - what he could have said differently, if he’d made the right choice.

Of course, he’d made the right choice. Choosing you over those who were so ready to cast him out. He just regretted walking out the door without slamming his fist into his brother’s nose.

Cassian suppressed a haggard sigh, shifting in bed to roll you off his chest. Your brows crinkled in confusion, discomfort at the slight change of position. You nuzzled your face into the fluffy pillow, falling back asleep before your mate pressed a soft kiss behind your ear. Cassian eased himself quietly off the bed, twisting and cracking his spine as he flexed his wings in the small room.

Cassian loved your apartment. Quaint, cozy, warm - he’d never truly had a home. Not a house of his own, just staying at his brother’s houses. His mother’s house was burned to the ground when he’d returned for her - he didn’t have many memories of her or the home, but he imagined it would be much like yours: riddled with blankets, too small for his wings to sit upright on his back, a small fire that could somehow warm every room. You’d even gotten rid of most of your blooming plants, opting for just the lush green ones, as the pollen had him waking up with itchy eyes and a runny nose.

He smiled softly as you reached for the pillow beside you, the other half of the bed still warm from where he laid with you. But he’d spend the morning training in the Spring forest, and would return home before you woke.

He donned his Illyrian leathers - despite many attempts to leave them behind, he couldn’t find anything as comfortable to train in. No clothes could carry as many weapons, couldn’t keep him warm as he flew laps around the court. By the time he fully dressed and was out the door, the sun was already peeking through the town, orange light shining at the end of the street as Cassian took off in a run, sprinting through the town and making his way to the woods.

He relished the time he could be alone, where the village was empty and there were no strangers, no Fae staring nor children pointing at his wings. Normally, the male was confident enough to push pass that all, or nicely answer questions when they stopped him in the street. You were always hanging on his arm, speaking kindly with your neighbors. Many of them were nice - simply interested in the foreign male - but there were a few that threw glares, and a couple territorial males that growled at him as they passed by.

But that’s why Cassian kept training - just in case. That, and he was a restless male.

He wove through the trees, pulling his heavy sword from where it laid snugly between his wings, and slashed at the drooping branches and thick vines. His wings unfurled behind him, dragging against the wind as they slowed him. They ached, spent too long curled up underneath him as he slept last night, they hung off the bed haphazardly on the other nights. Cassian smiled to himself, imagining a home the two of you could build together - big enough for him, cozy enough for you to fill with those green plants and comfy furniture.

Cassian spent the morning throwing rocks and doing push-ups, climbing the rope-like vines and practicing his knife-throwing. He’d had half a mind to fashion himself an Illyrian bow - carve it from the thick bark of a healthy tree, strong enough to send the arrow even as far as the Night Court.

He pulled his thick dark hair behind his head, tying the sweaty strands back with one of his leather bands. His ear twitched when he heard the rustling of the trees behind him. His wings shot up immediately, perked up behind him ready for a fight. The sun was almost fully up, rays of light shining through the tall trees. But the brush was dense, he couldn’t quite make out what was making the noise.

“Azriel?” He called, stepping closer to the line of trees. His brother had a tendency to play tricks on him, attack him where he was least expecting.

But he knew Azriel would have been silent.

Cassian didn’t know what lingered in the Spring forest, the small and large creatures that lived amongst the flora. There was no answer, not even the continued rustling of leaves and dry sticks. The male’s eyes traced the outline of the thicket, unable to make out any threat. With a huff he stretched his wings and took to the skies, circling around the woods to cool off before he headed home.

He pushed himself into the bedroom as you were just waking up, stretching in bed when he caught your eye. You smiled, the bond in your chest unfurling with warmth as he approached the bed. He bent over the mattress, offering you a kiss in greeting. You hummed a reply, curling your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back to bed.

Cassian chuckled, hoisting you up instead. “Let me at least bathe before I take you in the bed,” he whispered against your lips, tucking an arm underneath your legs and holding you close to his chest.

You smiled, nuzzling your neck against his dewy skin. “You do smell,” you mumbled, arms circling around his neck. “But I don’t care.” You pecked his cheek. “I don’t like waking up without you.”

Your mate huffed, kicking open the bathing room door. “You’re more than welcome to come train with me.” He set you on your feet and cupped your face, holding your jaw in his palms. You rose on your tiptoes, letting the male press a firm kiss to your lips.

Your hands encircled his wrists, holding him still as you met him in the middle. “Then I’d smell just as bad as you - plus I need my rest. Besides, you always manage to find other ways to tire me out, after all.”

Cassian smiled, showing all his teeth. Nothing but pure adoration lacing his features.

He found that each morning he saw your face shining in the rays of light peeking through your small bathroom window, the pain of leaving his court lessened each day. The bond in his chest was stronger than ever, constantly humming with activity and bursting with love.

The two of you bathed each other, something that had become part of your sacred morning ritual. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back as he washed your hair, his fingertips running over the sensitive part of your scalp behind your ears. You washed his back and wings, paying special attention to where he’d always somehow managed to cake mud at the base of the wing where it stemmed from his back.

You’d waited until you were mated - you’d picked up on the fact that despite their size, they were quite private. Always held high and proud, you admired them from a distance, afraid to even run your finger along the wide bone that stemmed from Cassian’s thick muscled back. It was months after you’d officially mated in secret - even after you’d rode through the frenzy. Cassian took your hand in his and traced everywhere he liked to be touched. So strange, having never even seen a male with wings, then to be mated to one. You didn’t know where to begin.

The more time Cassian spent frequenting your small home in Spring, the more comfortable you grew with the wide leathery wings. You’d explored what made him tick - where to touch him to make him cum, how to oil the leather, how to properly wash them, which of his muscles were sore after a long flight, how to relieve the tension. Cassian eventually had trouble falling asleep in his home court, without your fingers mindlessly tracing patterns against the soft flesh.

After your bath, your mate wrapped you in a plush robe, dressing himself in the soft sweater you’d gotten him as a birthday gift last year - a Spring evergreen color that brought out his eyes. You’d even taken one of his knives and sliced wing holes through the back and sewed buttons along the bottom. It was haphazard, not as precisely done as the thick ones he donned from the Illyrian Mountains. But he assured you that he loved it nonetheless.

“Some tea, dear?” You asked, already filling the kettle for more than enough for two cups.

He nodded in response, already slicing up the bread for breakfast. Cassian had a habit of preparing himself a cooking-snack, already digging into a plate of bread with jam and cheese as the eggs cooked on the stove. You weren’t sure he had a favorite meal of the day - every time he ate was damn near a feast.

Though, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Your home was always stocked to the brim with fresh pastries, breads, the finest roasts, and more potatoes than you could count.

You wouldn’t complain about his size, either.

Cassian sneezed as soon as you opened the kitchen window, a small breeze blowing through the house. He rolled his shoulders back and continued to stuff a slice of cheese in his mouth before tending to the eggs.

Your shoulders shook with a flinch as you heard a firm knock on the door, followed by what sounded like a kick.

Cassian watched you, pausing mid-chew as his eyes flitted between you and the door. You held your hand up at him, stopping him in his tracks as he already started moving towards the living room. “Let me see.” Your mate cocked a brow, wiping his hands at his pants. But Cassian nodded, watching you stalk to the door.

It wouldn’t be uncommon for your neighbors to visit, to bring you some extra pastries or flowers, to stop by for a chat or ask to borrow some flour. You were fairly certain some of the younger females came by to ogle at your mate, especially for a chance to see him when he’d cook shirtless. It never failed to make him blush and scramble for something - anything - to cover up with.

But that morning, you didn’t expect to open the door and come face-to-face with the High Lord.

His eyes were narrowed, jaw set and filling the frame of the door. His hands were balled into fists at his side, knuckles white in strain. Tamlin’s blond hair was long past his shoulders, where he normally kept it trimmed and tame, it was unruly, jagged edges frayed and burnt.

Your heart stopped in your chest, stricken with fear when you met those piercing green eyes. Purple half circles laced his under eyes, dark marks carved into his high cheekbones. The white shirt he wore was frayed, dirtied, and hung loose on his frame. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not to search around your living room, not to Cassian who’d no doubt drawn his knives in the kitchen. Tamlin’s voice was like gravel. “I can smell him.”

“High Lord, sir - I - ” You stuttered a response, offering him a half-assed curtsey. Your hands shook as you grabbed at your robe, pulling it tighter around yourself.

Despite how much you’d wanted to defend him after your stint in the Night Court, you’d never actually met the male - never seen him up close, even. But he stood - absolutely raging - at your front door and you were shocked.

You felt the heat of a familiar Illyrian approaching behind you, his wings splayed out for intimidation - for preparation, you thought, unsure of what fight was about to unfold at your front door. “You’re not welcome in my court.” Tamlin’s eyes flicked upwards, above your head, surely meeting where Cassian stood at your back.

“She’s my mate,” Cassian began, gruffly but level. Not looking for a fight. “Where she goes, I go.”

Tamlin didn’t flinch. “She’s of the Spring Court - she’s mine.”

You took a step away from the High Lord, right into the brick wall that was Cassian’s chest. His arms landed on your arms, warm hands wrapping around your shoulders. He held you firmly in front of him, against him - your heartbeats synced. Cassian’s calmness flooded through the bond, the peace before battle; alert, but ready. Ready to throw you out of the way should he so need to.

“She’s not yours, not even because she’s Spring.” Cassian’s grip tightened as he leveled the High Lord in front of you; the one you’d dared to defend in front of his own High Lord and High Lady - of his previous court, he supposed. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” He took a deep breath, one in which would allow him to force the next words out of him: “I am seeking refuge.”

To which Tamlin almost let out a huff of air - humor in his eyes. “Refuge,” he tested the word, grimacing at the bitter taste. “What do you know of refuge? And what about it in my court?” Tamlin drew his shoulders back. “You aided that bitch in destroying my - ”

Cassian ushered you out of the way, leaving you stumbling a few steps off in the living room as he approached the High Lord. “What you did to your own court - ”

Then Tamlin lunged.

He drew his claws, sharp and jagged, aimed directly at Cassian’s face. But the Illyrian was too quick, drawing a hidden knife from his pants.

You squinted - how he managed to hide that in his linen pants -

Cassian’s wings splayed out behind him, balancing the male as he stepped backwards and threw the High Lord off of him, angling the blade between them, right under Tamlin’s jaw.

Tamlin pushed himself up on all fours - to be fair, you’d never seen his wolf form, only heard stories and rumors about the shifter male, but gods he was already animalistic enough. He jumped at Cassian again, who stumbled backwards through the doorway, and between Tamlins punches, he raised the knife upward, aiming right for his side.

The High Lord squirmed away, the blade only narrowly meeting his skin. “Get away from me if you know what’s good for you,” Cassian growled, wings bent against the wooden boards of your front porch. You yelped, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you watched with wide eyes, the two males grappling and hitting each other before you.

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin barked, reaching for Cassian’s throat.

His claws never met your mate, Cassian had grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side, awkwardly angling Tamlin’s arms, which only infuriated him further. “You’re out of practice,” Cassian spat. “Your court is a wreck.” Tamlin kicked his legs, scrambling to pull himself from his captor. Cassian kneed him in the gut, earning a cough from the shifter. “And you fight like a bitch.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, snapping at Cass. He reached for the blade tucked into his boot, to which Cassian kicked the male off him, onto the street below. Tamlin grabbed the blade and slashed, slicing through your mate’s sweater. Cassian returned the gesture, slicing at his chest, to which he drew blood from the High Lord.

Cassian took a step back, admiring his warning cut, flaring his wings behind him. The dirt spurred around the males at the flap of his wings. He’d take to the air if that wouldn’t give him the unfair advantage. But the High Lord wouldn’t quit, he threw his knife straight for your mate.

The blade landed only in his shoulder, though, nothing the Lord of Bloodshed hadn’t dealt with before. And as Tamlin jumped for the Illyrian one last time, Cassian had no choice but to pull the knife from his wound and hold it straight before him, right to where Tamlin had thrown himself.

The knife was sharp, he had to hand it to Tamlin. It sank easily into him, into that stone cold heart he’d heard so much about.

The High Lord’s hands didn’t even grasp his shoulders as he slumped before the warrior, body sagging before him at his feet.

You felt the bond quiver, the utter shock Cassian felt at the action. You were frozen in the doorway, beyond belief with how quickly that escalated - you couldn’t even process it.

Neither could your mate.

Cassian stood over the blond male, laying bloody and limp on the dirt road before him.

It wasn’t the first male he’d killed.

It surely wouldn’t be the last.

He felt your arms around him, you’d flung yourself to his side. You wove your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his arm. Your racing heart leached through the bond, racing at a pace similar to his own. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fallen High Lord - the one who he had killed.

He clutched at your back, fisting the plushy robe as he dropped to his knees. His chest constricted as if his lungs collapsed,

A panic attack, his mind was reeling, his heart beating so fast he was sure he’d choke on his own blood surging through his veins. What a fucking perfect time. He’d come to terms with his role many centuries ago - warlord, killing for the goodness of others.

He’d just killed Tamlin.

His body felt heavy, the weight on his shoulders suddenly soul crushing.

Cassian raised his head as your hands clutched his shoulders. His heart hammered in his chest. His eyes raised from Tamlin’s cold body, but not to you - to everyone else. The neighbors had trickled out of their homes, standing along the sidewalk and in the grass. Some with their jaws agape, others holding onto their loved ones, a few crying, even fewer smiling.

Your mate watched as one by one, they bowed.

Tamlin had no kin. No family left, no lineage, no appointed heir from the Mother.

Cassian had become High Lord of the Spring Court.

“Fuck.”

____________________________________

You took Cassian to the Spring Court estate a few days later. His shoulder had healed in the meantime, which gave him the time to convince him to settle into his new role. It took a lot of initial processing, plenty of overthinking, and many hours spent pacing around your small cottage. The male was in utter disbelief - “is this even possible?” “I don’t want to be High Lord.” “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

He was confused… scared, even, you could see it.

Shit, it would be a lie to say you weren’t.

But all you could do was take it one step at a time. The Mother chose this path for him, and he had no other choice but to accept it.

You walked hand in hand through the destroyed estate, the fallen walls and piles of stones along the floor. The furniture had molded, what with the rain that fell through the holes in the ceiling, your footsteps didn’t even make an echo with how much debris lay around the halls. Creatures skitted through the rooms, slithering and burrowing between piles of rocks and destroyed foliage. Just a testament to how much there was to rebuild.

“What do I know about being High Lord?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What did Feyre know about becoming High Lady? She couldn’t even read.”

Cassian gave you a flat look. “She’s still my friend, you know.”

“Is she?” You challenged his gaze. “She and her mate kicked you out of your court - your home -”

“They didn’t kick me out.” Cassian stopped in his tracks, holding up his hand to correct you - and you arched a brow at him. “I left.” You pressed your lips together. “I want to build my home here, with you.”

You smiled, stepping close enough to him that your elbows brushed against his sternum. “You’re not saying that because you have to, right? Now that you’re stuck here with me?” You couldn’t hide your teasing smile.

Cassian smiled behind a breathy laugh, the first genuine one you’d heard in about a week. “Not because I have to.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, curling an arm around you as you two continued roaming the ruins of what you supposed would be your new home.

“Are you going to talk to them?”

He knew exactly who you were talking about. But he only offered a shrug. “I guess I have to, huh?”

“You don’t have to… I’m not really sure how all this works.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You wished you had better answers, you wished you could comfort your mate with the truth. But you didn’t know what would happen, you didn’t know the first thing about court royalty.

You hadn’t heard anything from the Night Court, uncharacteristic, you thought, considering their constant meddling in the past. Lucien had sent word to Cassian, the second day after the Spring Court title had shifted, offering himself as emissary to the Night Court. Nothing much from Autumn, nor Winter. Helion, of course, sent congratulations along with an invitation for dinner and more - he was pleased his ‘good friend’ Cassian had joined their club.

Cassian felt the air shift, the cold that washed over him as a dark misty shadow curled around his ankle. He peered over his shoulder, meeting the cobalt siphons behind him.

You eyed the other Illyrian, offering him a nod of your head in greeting. He mirrored the gesture.

“I’m going to the gallery,” you offered, turning from Cassian and his brother, quietly making your way down the hall. Cassian sent a strum through the bond, thanking you, and offering a promise that he’d join you momentarily.

“High Lord?” Azriel teased once you’d disappeared down the corridor, offering a mock bow to his brother.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Az shrugged. “I have eyes everywhere. Not specifically on you.” Cassian smiled. “I’ve seen far too much of you in my lifetime.”

“Did Rhysand send you?”

Azriel shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” But as his brother was uncharacteristically quiet, the Shadowsinger continued. “Trading in Lord of Bloodshed for High Lord of Spring then?”

Cassian rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder, a bit too hard. “I think I prefer the first one,” he grumbled.

Azriel eyed his brother, watching how he gnawed on his lower lip and how his hazel eyes flitted around the room. “You’ll be fine, Cassian. You’ve won too many wars to count and led how many soldiers into battle?” Az clapped a hand on his back. “You weren’t General of the Night Court Armies for nothing… consider this a promotion.”

Cassian rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Yeah well I suppose I’ll be meeting with my colleagues soon enough.” The dread dripped off his voice. He scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his tangled black hair. “I suppose I’ll be needing a shadowsinger, if you’re interested in warmer weather and a bit more sunshine.”

Azriel smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, brother.” With a ruffle of his wings, Az prepared himself to winnow out. Cassian was sure Rhysand would have his head if he found out he spent too long in the Spring Court - or with him. “Good luck.”

Cassian bid Azriel goodbye and made his way through the estate halls, kicking the crumbled stones and stepping harshly over the broken glass. He watched the dust pool up in the corners as he wandered the corridor, crossing into the gallery. His eyes washed over the shredded canvas, greens, purples, blues - no red. He recognized Feyre’s art - he’d seen enough of it throughout the River House… and the Town House and the House of Wind.

All of her works were ripped up, clawed through until there was nothing but colorful cloth strewn about the marble floor. The art that remained hung on the walls showed the expanses of the Spring forests, sparkling lakes, and vast meadows. Perhaps one day Cassian would make it out to explore the landscape.

He found you in the corner of the gallery, where the windows had been broken out and the forest started growing in. The vines and trees crawled through the room, ivy growing along the stone walls and bright flowers blooming in the shrubbery. He rubbed the tears away from the corner of his eye before approaching you.

“I know it’s not much,” you sighed, gazing up at the painting of the orange poppy fields that hung high on the wall. “But it’s Spring…” You felt Cassian wrap his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, back pressed against his chest. Your fingers trailed over his forearms, tracing over the rigid muscle before burying his hands in yours. “It’s home.”

“It’s my home, too. The Illyrian Steppes are too cold anyway.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point.

“We’ll have to do something about your allergies, though.”

He groaned. “I don’t have allergies.”

“My whole neck is covered in your drippings.”

Cassian wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing coming out of my nose - I don't know what you’re talking about.” You twisted in his grasp, wrapping your arms around his large waist. He shrugged his wings, blinking a few times to clear the fog from his itchy eyes.

Damn the Spring Court. It couldn’t have been the Summer or Dawn Court?

He had to be the High Lord of a court he was godsdamned allergic to.

#cassian #acotar #cassian x you #cassian/you #cassian x reader #cassian/reader #acosf #fanfiction

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chekhovvs · 2 years

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The first time Scar dies, Grian places his hands on his throat and looks him in the eyes, and for one terrible second Scar wants to–

He wants–

Grian looks him in the eyes, into the burnt out red around his iris, and he apologizes, over and over, and his tears sting in Scar's wounds, and it feels like he is dying a fourth death with each drop.

Well.

Scar knew this was going to happen, but somehow he thinks that Grian didn't. That he thought he could die for Scar, somehow, and that that would be redemption.

Scar is prone to no such delusions. He knew he was going to die the second he heard that hissing noise, and afterwards his visions of death became different; haunted by bloody gleaming swords and Grian's choked off laughter, and that was fine.

Really.

Because he was ready to forfeit his life, to give it a million times over just to have Grian stay by his side and take first watch over the dark desert grounds and bake bread in the early mornings, where the dunes were still cold.

Being red makes Scar a little hollowed out, a little brittle and desperate, and when Grian asks why he won't kill, he's afraid of his own answer.

("Because no one should feel this way", Scar murmurs, and tries resolutely to not look Grian in the eyes. He fails, of course.

"What?", says Grian, who wasn't expecting an answer to a question he asked three hours ago, still knee deep in the soil of their carrot patch.

Scar shakes his head, and some sand falls into his eyes.

"Nothing, nothing, I was just talking to Pizza!"

Grian huffs with indignation, but still continues to plant the carrots in neat little rows.

It's awfully domestic.)

In his dreams, Scar has his hands around Grian's neck and he squeezes, hard and dark and terrible.

In his dreams, Scar watches Grian explode over and over again, and each time his hands press the doomsday button again.

In his dreams, Grian sits on Pizza and his head is thrown back in laughter, melodious like a wind chime, and the sun that rises over the mountains is never red.

In the end, Grian has his hands around Scar's neck and he is pleading for forgiveness and there's blood in the sand, blood in Scar's hair and under Grian's nails.

Scar says nothing at all, because the sun is still coming up red and Monopoly Mountain has collapsed, and being red has made Grian another monster entirely.

The world fizzles out slowly, and in the void, the warmth of Grian's hands lingers on his neck.

The second time Scar dies, he takes an arrow through the throat, and he doesn't even have the time to feel the pain.

He'd been all alone on that mountain top for the longest time, so he doesn't know why it makes him want to scream now, this terrible loneliness.

His blood on the ground is nobody's business, even now.

Inanely, he remembers staring at the walls of the Southlands, waiting to catch glimpses of the life within, and sort of–

Sort of hoping–

Well. He certainly doesn't feel sorry when they exile Grian, is all.

("Listen, Scar.", Grian says, and he looks far too happy with that sword in his hand, bloody teeth and eyes like dynamite, "I have a deal for you!"

Scar tries to hold very still, remembering faintly that itch under his skin, that terrible urge that took root when he was red. He wants to save Grian. He wants Grian to die.

Ironic, that he had wanted Grian to return so much that even this reunion isn't soured for him yet. And if he decides to kill Scar, well, Scar wouldn't fight back. He couldn't.

"Alright", says Scar, who is weak in the face of his killer, who is so very desperately trying to make him stay, and he gives a piece of his soul to Grian just because he asked. Just because it's Grian.

Of course, he's still left behind.)

That's that.

A wizard in a tower, defeated by a familiar face and the aching of his heart, standing on the precipice of death just for one second of companionship.

Now, with that arrow through his throat, Scar bleeds out on the warm stones, and because the fight is still ongoing, no one notices for a long time that he is even dead at all.

The third time Scar dies, he really thought Grian and him would have a chance at a happy ending.

Their alliance of sand was bound to fail, and Scar had known, but this time, oh this time, just once, they could've stood together. They could've.

Here, in the graveyard of their relationship, so far away from the desert yet always returning to it, they could've worked it out.

("These…", Scar says carefully, "are for your secret soulmate!"

Grian's wings puff up, and he turns his chin up defiantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

But he won't look Scar in the eye, and his voice sounds like back then, when he would insist he just forgot to wake Scar up for his watch or that he really didn't mind the heat all that much.

It's painful how familiar he is, because Grian does not care, does he?

Scar's blood is still stuck under his fingernails, and he is trying to ignore it, the image of Scar's corpse superimposed on his eyelids.)

If Scar is feeling benign, he'd say that it's the guilt, the feeling of his blood in Grian's teeth that makes his soulmate so distant.

But he's not feeling very benign, watching Grian smile to himself on his way out the door. He does not feel very benign at all.

But sometimes, Grian is so sweet, so caring that somehow Scar just… can't leave.

He can't leave Grian, just as he couldn't kill him in that desert, and well, at least this time, Grian can never really leave him either.

If only for his own life. If only for the memories.

So here's their happy ending, just within reach, Grian's hand shaking and red with Big B's blood, eyes hungry for gore.

Here's their happy ending.

Scar is somewhere in the forest when it happens, calling out for his soulmate, and it is raining.

He thinks, somewhat cynically, that even now, he is alone.

He thinks of Grian's hands on his neck, around his throat, and he wishes, desperately, that Grian were here, just so that there'd be that warmth again in the void.

Scar wants to take his soulmate's hand just once, wants to know that he is not alone, that he will be alright.

(They never did respawn in the same bed.)

Well. Scar has wanted a lot of things, and still the sun comes up red and somewhere, a castle still collapses into the hot sand, and Grian is far away, and they are both dying.

This, at least, is familiar.

In the end, there's not even enough time to scream.

(far beneath the earth, in a little mineshaft dug out hastily, grian's chest is heaving, his ear drums shattered. he is dying. he is dying, and all he can hope is that scar is not as alone as he is. he wishes they could've been better for each other, but the blood in his mouth is familiar and he is already fading. his muttered apology never makes its way out of the damp earth.)

#double life #desert duo #trafficblr #double life smp #fanfic #writing #grian #goodtimeswithscar #angst #someone made a post that was like #'scar's deaths get lonelier with each season'#and i got possessed by a demon and wrote this #still can't believe it's over #so here's an extra long post for y'all

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rofax · 11 months

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Okay okay okay just saw Across the Spider-Verse and have A Thought. Hear me out:

Miguel is not a "true" Spider-Man.

(I KNOW he is a Spider-Man in comics but the movies are establishing their own canon so stay with me here.)

I feel like the movies planted a lot of flags about how he is so, so fundamentally different from the other Spiders. Consider:

• He enters and has a CAPE. Spider-Man doesn't wear capes. It's disrespectful.

• Why is he getting a musical sting that is reminiscent of Prowler's? Why does he get a villain score? Extra suspicious given the big end reveal about the universe with no Spider-Man.

• "I'm not a bad guy!" "You look like one!"

• Peter asking, "Spider-Man is supposed to be funny. Why aren't you funny?"

• He says he isn't like the other Spider-Man's. Maybe he means because he makes the hard choices. Maybe it's more than that.

• Comic Miguel injects himself to get the powers of the Earth-616 Spider-Man. This Miguel is also seen injecting himself to get his powers. There's not really any indication of when this started. I'm thinking it started AFTER he lost his "family".

• He found a world where he wasn't alone and took the place of that Miguel when he died. IIRC, at no point does it show either versions of that Miguel as Spider-Man. Just that this Miguel had a family and he wanted that (ala kingpin).

• When the big anomaly is destroying that reality, why does he not just thwip thwip away with his kid? Does he not have powers?

• He is furious at Miles for robbing a reality of its Spider-Man, but surely he did the same thing when left to take the other Miguel's place?? Unless he was never Spider-Man to begin with.

• Spider-Man dying isn't part of the spider canon we have been shown. Why would it be so disruptive for Miguel to take his place? JUST because he is an anomaly? The other Spiders in the first movie didn't fundamentally destabilize Miles' reality, they were just going to glitch apart themselves. It shouldn't have such a butterfly effect for Miguel to do what he did, unless maybe the original Miguel was adjacent to Spider-Man. Maybe he was the cop who died in that world. Maybe he was the Uncle Ben figure. Somehow his death was important to the Canon.

• Why does he not bring up his Uncle Ben or his cop-close-to-him dying? Why is his tragedy only the one he created and not the usual Spider canon?

• I know he's a cool cyberpunk Spider-Man but he's the ONLY one we see with different colored webs. He is very visually distinct from the others.

• "Are your sure you're a Spider-Man?"

Theory: Miguel was just a scientist who found a world where he wasn't alone and stepped into it. When he brought on destruction by being an anomaly to the Spider-Canon, he chose to become a Spider-Man to preserve the canon and keep the universes in tact... but he was never supposed to be a Spider-Man either, just like Miles. He doesn't follow the canon either.

Also I think because Miles and probably Miguel exist outside the Spider-Canon, they won't be bound by it and will be able to disrupt it. I feel like a significant portion of Miguel's redemption arc/Heel-Face-Turn is going to be realizing Miles is right and helping him because neither of them should have been Spider-Man but both of them became him anyway. Because anyone can wear the mask.

#across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spoilers #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #I JUST #I JUST THINK HE WOULDNT HAVE SO MANY MAJOR DIVERSIONS FROM SPIDER-MAN IF IT WASNT PLAYING AT SOMETHING

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 6 months

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so among the million other things that was wrong with catra's redemption, i want to highlight the main thing that stuck out to me.

i don't know about y'all but i've had people "apologize" to me like this. saying sorry or admitting their mistakes and then immediately following it up with “i'm worthless” or “everyone hates me” or something in that vein. i get it, people are insecure and they have a lot of self-doubt. but when apologizing to someone about a serious mistake that you made, for hurting them or worse, you do not do this. it's guilt tripping.

apologies are difficult. even if you feel really guilty about what you did, it might be hard to face facts and admit that you did something terrible. even if you absolutely despise yourself, your ego can work up when it comes to apologizing.

catra does admit her faults in the first frame (albeit while still being very vague. “hurt people” is an understatement for everything that she did). but immediately following it up with “no one cares about me :((” just defeats the whole point. like yeah, i wonder why. it's probably not because she abused, verbally harassed and killed people, right?

it doesn't look like she's guilty of what she did, it comes off as her regretting it after she started to face the consequences. she's not upset because she hurt people, she's upset because they left her and now she's alone.

not to mention, this scene where she lashes out at adora for saving her life.

the way she says “you all hate me” just sounds accusatory. not only is she snapping at the person who saved her life and is willing to give her a second chance, but she's also getting angry at adora and the others for hating her. friendly reminder that catra was a war criminal who killed people, abused adora for years, caused the death of glimmer's mother and almost ended space and time out of spite. and here she is, acting as if she doesn't deserve to be hated for all this. (also, adora's response to this is absolute bullshit. “i never hated you” yes, you did. you almost killed catra with no hesitation in s4.)

let's not forget the iconic “i'm working on it” that everyone was swooning over. omg catra says she's working on her anger issues, we love character development! oop— but then she immediately shifts the blame to adora by saying that adora was the one giving her a hard time. mhm. like you didn't give adora a hard time her whole life, catra.

this is almost uncomfortably realistic when compared to real life abusers. if they ever do apologize, this is how they do it. they either make it all about themselves so that you feel guilty for “making them apologize” or they snidely shift the blame to you. if you get mad about it, they could simply say “i said i'm sorry, what more do you want from me?”

regular viewers may see this and think “well, she apologized. that's a good thing”. but if you've ever been acquainted with a person like catra irl, you know that this apology is not sincere. it's just a way to shut their victims up and indirectly manipulate them. you think they're being genuine but you also feel like it's your fault partially, because of how they shift the blame to you or pity themselves until you feel bad for them.

#spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti c//a #anticatra #antic//a #anticatradora #anti spop #anti shera #tw abuse #abuse tw #tw manipulation #tw guilt tripping

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bonebabbles · 2 months

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I know that this is obvious, cliche, and has been said before many times about many aspects of DOTC as I go through this, but... the most fitting words that I really have here is that this book sucks.

Path of Stars SUCKS. It's a ton of fanservicey scenes trying to pull at your heartstrings about Gray Wing's relationship with his shitty brother, with any lasting anger that the cats had towards Clear Sky drying up now that he's a father. again. He addresses NOTHING about the abusive behavior he CONTINUES to display, and it torments Star Flower with torture and premature labor for cheap drama.

And worst of all, WORST of all, is all this bullshit about how Slash is "Truly Evil" to make Clear Sky, and The Settlers, look better. Slash is JUST evil. NOTHING else. He has NO other traits besides that he hates love and friendship.

He pins a pregnant woman to the ground and licks her face while taunting how she was supposed to be his mate but he'll murder her at the end of the last book, then starves her as a hostage in this one,

He's sending out massive gangs of rogues to forcefully steal meat from The Settlers,

He has hatred "deep in his bones" and "needs to find reasons to justify" that, as if being evil is just part of his nature and he's never satisfied unless he's hurting someone else,

He wants to make The Settlers pay, just because they seem happy, like some kind of Care Bears villain,

And it's concluded, as Gray Wing snuggles up to his second wife, that,

It's setting me to a simmer. After this WORTHLESS arc has spent so long excusing and downplaying cats like Clear Sky, who has the highest body count in the entire series, tossing a redemption death at Tom the Wifebeater, and forcefully shoving Thunder into an arc about forgiving and being happy for a man who CONTINUES to attempt to manipulate him.

What it says really sets Slash apart from all the "not bad people" is love. Because he is so evil, he can't know what love or happiness really are, and no one could ever want to to see him.

You know, abusers are human beings? We understand this??

They don't crawl out of Hell one day, sniffing for happiness in the air and making a beeline towards the nearest vulnerable person. They often DO love their victims, and can even be truly loved in return, but that doesn't mean they didn't HURT them. That doesn't mean that what happened to you wasn't abuse.

REAL abusers don't act like Slash. They act like Clear Sky. Justifying their actions, using love against their victims as a manipulation tactic, sending them on guilt trips and using their leverage to control their target. But the writers decided to make this character out to be so evil, so unjustified, SUCH a perfect hate sink, so that they could make the realistic depiction look okay.

And... it makes Slash offensively boring. NO ONE remembers this fucking character. He has NOTHING going on. He only manages to bully the main characters for a single book before being driven off.

He's nothing. This book is nothing. It's killing me.

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adoreeenina · 5 months

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I wanna be yours - Ch. 10

(Recom! Miles Quaritch x Sully! Reader x Recom! Lyle Wainfleet)

(Warning: Polyamorous relationship. Angst. Enemies to Lovers. Slow burn. Falling in love. Redemption arc. Canon deaths (but not really). Romance. Smut. Jealousy. Threesome. Anal(both F & M receiving). Mention of suicide, self harm, depression, anxiety. PTSD. Feelings being revealed. Jake and Neytiri not being good parents to reader. Reader being a motherly figure to Spider.)

~a bit of oc Miles, just a little🤏🏻, maybe a lot, I picture him being more soft cause Lyle encourages it~

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

It’s bright and sunny when you wake up, and you’re so comfortably warm. Stretching, you felt Spider rub his face into the warm surface of your chest. Smiling at Spider’s clinging arms around you, you sigh sleepily, opening your eyes, only to discover that it’s not Spider that’s holding you. Lyle breathes beneath your chin, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he rests his head on top of your breast.

Startled, you push yourself out of his muscular arms, jumping to your feet, startling him awake in turn. Bleary yellow eyes look up at you before closing them again, wrapping the blanket around him like this was a normal thing for him.

“Good morning to you to, buttercup” He murmured annoyingly, rubbing his eyes.

“What are you doing in my room!?” You shout.

“Check again, sweetheart, this is my room” Lyle answersand smirked when you furrowed your eyebrows and started looking around.

“Why were you holding me? You have no right to hold me” The man didn't seem bothered by your reaction and you just now realized the situation you were in. How did you end up in bed with another person like that?

“You wouldn’t let me go. You had your tail wrapped around me like you didn’t want me to go. I kinda like that” Lyle laughs in amusement and laid on his side with his head resting in his hand, watching your confused expression.

“You’re lying. I would never do that” you frown as you tried to force yourself not to believe him.

“It’s the truth, baby” Lyle says with a devilish smile.

“It’s not!” You hiss, sensing your cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“It’s to”

“It’s not!”

“It’s-“

“Will you two shut up? It’s too early for this” Spider grumbles, he yawns before reaching over Lyle to grab the remote control, turning the TV on.

You huff before looking at the other bed when you notice one person missing.

“Where’s the Colonel?” You ask, the other bed perfectly neat and made, like it hasn’t been slept in.

“He’s with General. Probably getting his ass chewed by her as we speak” Lyle yawns, he sits up on the bed, the blankets pooling around his waist, exposing his naked upper body. You had to look away to stop yourself from drooling.

“What for?” Spider questions.

“We’re not giving her the results she wants fast enough” Lyle shrugs, “a fucking cunt is what she is” he mumbles under his breath as he stands up from the bed, leaving him on only boxers.

The door opens revealing Quaritch, swearing silently, he steps into the room, with a paper bag in hands.

“Here, sweetheart” you look at the bad confuse as he hands it to you.

“What’s this?”

“Your cloths”

“Really?” You accidentally shout excitedly. You rip the bag open showing not just your tewng but also Spider’s and your songcord.

“Awesome. I thought you would’ve thrown it away” Spider says as he reaches for his songcord.

“I was, but figured you would’ve made a huge fuss about it if I did” Quaritch shrugs.

“Nice cargos, Miles?” Lyle snickers, eying the way he’s wearing cargo shorts. Damn, he looks so good wearing them.

Spider shoves you, you look at him with a small side glare, till you realized you were biting your bottom lip, your cheeks heat up and you quickly cover your face with your braids as you busy yourself with your songcord in your hands.

“How’d it go with the General?” Your ears flick at attention, Lyle tried to whisper but you could still hear.

“Pissed but was satisfied to hear we are getting our banshees”

A knock on the door catches all your attention, it opens and enters Z-dog.

“You asked for me, Colonel?” Quaritch faces you.

“Darlin, go with Zdinarsk. She’ll take you to shower and get dressed” you nod, you grab your stuff and follow Zee out of the room.

Pattering your feet into the woman’s bathroom facility. Z-dog holds out a small bag and a towel for you.

“There’s a shower kit in there, use it. Turn the nozzle left for cold or right for hot” with that, Z-dog leaves and closes the door behind her.

undressing, you sigh in relief, you hated the heavy cloths on you, you throw the worn and torn out shirt over your head, your thumbs hook into the waist band of the sweatpants, and pull them down your legs. You move the curtain to the side and step in. You place your items to the side.

Turning the nozzle, water spurted out aggressively making you jerk back. You were used to the gentle streams that naturally flowed through the Hallelujah Mountains, not this hard water that beat your face.

Your hair fell between the movement of your shoulder blades as your tail flicked from the relaxation. You hummed from the warmth, tipping your head back to let the water splash down your neck and chest. You grab the bag to see two small bottles and a bar of what you recognize as soap that the humans uses.

Once you finish, turning the nozzle off, You dried yourself off and got dressed. Holding up the tweng, you place the leather over your hips. Binding it around your tail, you fasten the fabric. you fasten the fabric to the front. Once done, you do same for your top, you maneuver your breast to be held up nicely in your leather top, lastly you tie your songcord on your hip.

“C’mon, mamas” you hear Lopez voice as he knocks on the door. You leave the stuff behind as you head for the door open it, revealing Lopez and Prager.

“Damn, mami” Lopez whistles, his eyes going up and down your body.

“You’re done?” You ask with your hands on your hips.

“Not yet” he holds up a finger, again taking in your body, taking a mental picture to use later, “okay I’m done.” You couldn’t hold back an eye roll at him, “Colonel and the others are waiting out at the docks”

You follow them as they navigated the halls of the holding facility. Lopez and Prager paused, stepping into the transition compartment between the outside of the facility, you stand in between them.

“Gentleman, heading out?” The voice of Ardmore breaks your concentration. Your ears flick downwards, your upper lip twitch, a snarl threatening to come out. You’ve heard of her from Spider, what she has done to him.

“Yes ma’am” answers Lopez. Ardmore turns to look at you with a strange glee in her eyes, it makes you feel uneasy.

She nods her head towards the two recoms next to you, before you could react, Lopez and Prager grabs your wrists and shoulders forcing you onto your knees in front of the General.

A scientist walks into the room and gave Ardmore a device. It was a large collar with a few lights on the side indicating that it was on. Then Ardmore holds up a remote and pressed a button, the collar burst with electrical tendrils.

Your eyes widen at the technology you’ve only seen in movies. This woman is more deranged than you have thought.

"If you run away, the Colonel will shock you. He might trust you, but I surely don’t. So be a good pet and put this on" Ardmore takes slow steps towards you, before she could place the collar on, you snarl and snap your teeth at her, she jumps back before you could sink your teeth into her skin. She glares at you with puckered lips.

“Bring it” she orders as she snaps her fingers. A soldier walks forward and hands a muzzle to her, “you’re going to act like a dog, I’m gonna treat you like a dog”

Prager grabs you by your kuru, forcibly holding your head still, he tugs on it as warning. Ardmore walks towards you again with confidence in every step, she places the muzzle to your face and tightens to straps, making you hiss.

“Behave” she tuts with a small smirk, you try to pull away but there was nothing you could really do at this point but submit as the General steps forward and place the device tightly around your neck with a smug grin.

——

Quaritch looks down at his watch with a grim look. The unit been waiting for almost twenty minutes, annoyed by waiting for the final three.

“What’s taking so long?” Spider ask impatiently.

“Yeah, what’s taking so long? They should’ve been here by now” replies Ja.

“Maybe we should-“

“Oh shit” Z-dog whispers under gear breath, looking behind the unit, Quaritch turns around with raised eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t have the time to ogle your half naked body.

“Colonel, just came to drop off the savage” Ardmore steps aside to let Lopez who has your hands behind your back to keep you restrained from attack the General.

Lyle try’s not to give himself away when he eyes the muzzle on your face behind his sunglasses, he bites his tongue. Quaritch isn’t doing much better, but puts up a pucker face.

You look down feeling embarrassed and humiliated being in such a position like this, tears prick your eyes.

You soon felt a sense of dread fall over you when you see the thing that basically controls you. Ardmore turns to Quaritch and held out her hand. He opened his palm and she gives him the remote.

“Here you go, Colonel. Hope she’s not too much to handle,” the General says upbeat. "You fly run or fly away, the Colonel will electrocute you or I’ll kill you myself. Understood?"

“I hope you get eaten by a Palulukan” you mumble, she didn’t understand you but the nod of your head makes her think you understood. Lopez and Prager heard you and tried to fight back a grin that’s threatening to form.

“Good,” then she brought her attention to Quaritch. “Make sure you have the savage under control”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll make sure to keep the animal in check”

Closing your eyes, your heart break hearing Quaritch call you an animal. It hurts, it was like all the time you spent together and those little moments you had together meant nothing to him. But that made you remember what you really are. A captive, someone they took hostage to learn your ways and to kill your father.

Quaritch could feel the hard stares from his team but ignores it.

“Alright, let’s get going” Miles ordered, clapping his hands a few times. Everyone starts making their way towards the lowered ramp of the carrier. Spider jogs next to you, grabbing your tail.

“Hey-“ Quaritch attempts to grab your elbow, but you jerk away from him with a hard glare. You move your tail forward, Spider getting the message moves infront of you, making sure he enters the carrier before you do, and attempt to keep him within your sight.

Lopez offers to holds you by your arm and helps you walk forward, helping into the Samson. He sits you down next to Spider who hasn’t taken his eyes off you worriedly.

You still haven’t taken your eyes off the ground when someone kneels in front of you, the dragon tattoo on the forearm tells you who it is.

“Can I take this off?” Lyle softly ask you, not wanting you snap at him.

Swallowing softly, you nodded your head, he scoots a little bit closer to you with a reassuring smile.

He leans forward so he could reach behind your head, he works carefully, un-tying the knots before loosening the straps of the muzzle.

Leaning back, Lyle carefully holds the muzzle and pulls it away from you, cringing slightly as it stuck to your face, revealing deep creases on your skin from how tight it’s been.

Quaritch who has been watching the entire time, looks down shamefully.

Lyle tosses the Muzzle to the side and sits down next to Spider.

“Did you bring a secondary mask and unit for Spider? For backup?” You ask timidly, Lyle doesn’t like that, he doesn’t like that at all. Just this morning you were yelling at him for holding you and now you are a shell of yourself. What did Ardmore do to you?

“Yeah baby, I got it, don’t you worry” Lyle smiles at you, you softly smile back before looking down. Spider scoots closer to you.

You took notice that Quaritch took a seat farthest from you sitting next to Z-dog at the other side of the aisle. You ignored the pang of your heart and ignored Quaritch the entire time even while climbing up the Hallelujah Mountains to tame their Ikran’s. Hoping you don’t encounter your family or clan.

“Come on, keep up losers!” Spider taunts them as he and you leaps from a floating rock to another with such ease. Spider looks down at them as they try to keep up, they were much better at climbing, but this was considerably more challenging.

Finally, you and the Recoms climbs into a hallow tunnel of one of the giant, floating rocks. It was cool and damp, some of the water pattering onto your face. The Recoms also took a breath of relief for the tunnel looked like an easy ascension, able to be scaled without climbing, just basic walking.

Then you noticed the troublemaker was missing.

“Spider?” Quaritch gruff voice echoes of the stone walls.

“Boo!” Spider jumpes from between the cracks, startling some of the Recoms, making a few snicker at the ones who got scared.

You smiled timidly, a hand over your mouth, and turn away from the others.

Once the rest of the Recoms finally made it to the top, hundreds of Ikran’s populated the area, their screeches echoing through the massive floating area. A few see them and immediately take flight, their shrill cries following them down into he mist below.

Crouching low, they follow Spider’s and your lead, only stopping the closest they would be able to get before the banshees attacked. You crouch next to Spider on one of the fallen tree trunk as the others gathered around, guns drawn and ready.

You turn your head when a rifle clicked to your right, drawing your attention from the Ikran’s and turning it to the tranquilizer gun in Lyle’s hands.

Lyle is reading a rifle, the tranquilizer dart sliding into place as he snaps it into place.

"I got this." Quaritch pulls the gun from his hands and aims. Lyle had a distinct look of alright, damn. You scowl at Quaritch as Spider starts chuckling at him.

"What?" He lowers the sniper and stares at Spider.

“Na’vi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands” Spider was amused.

“Tranquilizing them won’t help you bond with them. How can you make Tsaheylu with a knocked out Ikran?” You explain, arms cross over your chest with a disapproving frown.

“Y/n did it when she was 10, and she was the youngest of the clan to bond with an Ikran” Everyone's heads shift to stare at you, but it's Lyle and Quaritch who looks pissed.

"Not much else to do when Rawm decided to tackle me off a cliff." You roll your eyes, remembering when Rawm attacked you.

“Jake Sully, did it the hard way?” You could hear the competitiveness from his voice, making you smirk.

“What do you think?” Spider responds with a smirk.

Quaritch's ears turn down in acceptance, sucking his teeth, he gives the rifle back to Lyle, who looks at him worriedly.

"What are we doin' Colonel?" He answers by walking over the roots, and moving towards the banshees. hitting Lyle’s shoulder in the process . You snicker hearing the loud smack, Quaritch still has no control of his tail.

Hell, if Sully could get a banshee the hard way, then so could he. Grabbing his queue over his shoulder, Quaritch tactically steps closer, eyes zeroing in on a Ikran. The beast cried loudly as it spread its long wings before hissing at him.

"This is gonna be good." Spider chuckles and then leaps off the roots to follow behind Quaritch.

"All right, move up." Lyle orders the others, guns still at the ready, “move up, baby” he gently pushes you forward next to Spider.

Looks like one of the banshees wants to kill Quaritch. She rares up, flashing her wings and screeches at him threateningly. He is unperturbed and moves closer as she continues to bare her retractable fangs at him.

"I think she likes you, Colonel” you tease.

He ignores you and continues, needing his full attention for this task. Many times he'd seen these things rip apart shuttles and the men within. He didn't feel like dying today.

"It's just you and me, Cupcake." The Ikran hisses at him viciously, and he returns it. The hiss threw you off, you weren’t expecting him to follow his Na'vi instincts... Why did you feel pride over that? Before you can think further, Quaritch dodges the ikran's lunge and...

Of course he would punch an Ikran.

When she snapped again Quaritch ducked under her neck and rolled to the other side before throwing himself onto her back. His arms latched around her neck as she reared up. He attempts to wrap his legs around her neck, but she bucks and he slams back down with a grunt as Spider Oohs at the rough landing.

You bite your bottom lip worriedly, maybe they weren’t ready. Your ears stand at attention when you realized you forgot something.

"Spider," you leans your head towards him. “Where the fuck is the yimkxa?"

"Did I mention you're supposed to tie the mouth shut first?" He pulls out the banshee catcher and wiggles it tauntingly.

"Thanks a lot, kid!" Quaritch yells out as he struggles with the thrashing Ikran trying to kill him.

"Spider!” You shout, “You were supposed to give him that!" You yell as the Ikran continues to screech and thrash around.

"Oops, he'll be fine." he gives a half shrug. You scowl at his uncaring nature and face Quaritch.

“Make the bond!” You yell out to him, reminding him to connect their queues.

The ikran thrashed and stumbled to close the edge, your chest fell when Quaritch tumbles over the cliff with the Ikran.

"Move up, move up!" Lyle called out, and they all ran towards the edge, meanwhile Quaritch is still screaming as he falls into the clouds. “You see him?"

You run to the edge and peered over as they disappeared into the clouds below with a final, echoing scream that ricocheted around the mountain walls.

You lean into the gale with bold trust as you had many times before, letting it hold you up as you squinted for any sign of the Colonel and the Ikran.

A hand grabbed your shoulder and pulls you back.

You shove it off and turned to look at Lyle. “Let go of me!” you snap.

There was something so genuinely caring about the look in his eyes. His face was impassive, as usual. But his ears were lowered and flat against his head as his tail twitched in anticipation.

Spider sees the two of you looking at each other and watches Lyle’s face morph into sorrow.

“Let’s go, baby” he whispers to you before facing the other. “Let’s go. We're Oscar Mike. Come on." They begin to shuffle away, and he pats Lopez on the back as he passes. "Let's go. We're outta here."

“You can’t honestly believe his dead, do you?” You exasperate. He won’t even wait a little longer?

“Y/n, we both just saw him go off a cliff” Lyle gets eye level with you. Saying your name for the first time.

“No, he fell off the cliff with a Ikran, there’s a chance he could’ve made it”

“Baby-“ he makes a move to grab your arm to drag you back from the edge. You slap it away from you, tears threatening to spill

“No, I’m not-“ A screech came from behind you , followed by the excited laughter of a man who had managed to escape death.

The immense sense of relief that washed over you at the sight of him caught you off guard. You didn't think you’d actually be relieved to see him.

"Yeah!" That's right!" Quaritch grins, pumping his fist in the air with the biggest smile you had ever seen on him. The squad cheers as he zips around and flies.

"Yeah Colonel! Get some!" Lyle calls out in relief as the others continue to celebrate.You let out an incredulous laugh, Spider laughs next you in relief when he leans his shoulder against your side.

"Who's up next?" Quaritch yells out as he swoops down, forcing all of them to duck. You turn to face Lyle who shares the same relieved look as you. You yank the rope out of Spider's hand. Intent on letting the other Recombinants actually use it this time. Spider was laughing and smiling along with the Recoms. Looks like he was relieved he hadn't accidentally kill his father.

——

One by one, they all tamed their Ikran’s. You’re once again felt conflicted. You were so satisfied watching them tame an ikran and fly. It shouldn't have made you happy, you were literally betraying your people, your family.

Compared to Quaritch, everyone else got their Ikran’s with ease. No one else was thrown off the edge a cliff, but there were a few scrapes and bruises. You take a mental note to remind yourself to make healing paste for them.

Quaritch gestured to Spider to come closer. The kid didn’t have to be told twice, jumping from the tree he was sitting on before running over to them. For a split second, Quaritch worried that his banshee would be aggressive towards his son, but as he neared, she simply turned her head to greet him, pushing her muzzle against his chest as he gave her a quick neck rub, obviously loving the attention.

"You named her yet?" Spider ask when he turns to look at him.

“Cupcake has nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Lyle walks towards them with a strut.

“No-“ before Quaritch could protest his Ikran chitters happily hearing her name, he groans in frustration.

“Fine. Cupcake it is” he relents, sighing as he runs hand down her snout.

Lyle glances over his shoulder, seeing you by yourself, sitting on a boulder, looking over the mountain. You haven’t interacted with anyone since Quaritch almost fell to death.

“Spider, why don’t you go with the others” Lyle places his hand on his shoulder, he encourages Spider by gently pushing him with the other recoms.

“Okay?” Spider looks at him weirdly by listens nonetheless.

Lyle sighs when he look back at you, before turning to look at Quaritch who was also looking at you.

“She didn’t want to leave you know” Quaritch snaps his head at Lyle with raised brow, obviously confused by the conversation starter.

“What are you talking about?”

“When you fell off the cliff. We immediately thought there was no way you could have survived, even me” he admits, Quaritch immediately sees the frightened look in Lyle’s eyes, “but she believed you survived. And she was right”

Quaritch hums at the new information and turns to look at your direction but doesn’t see you, he’s widen worriedly and frantically looks around till he see your tail disappears behind a wall.

“Go talk to her and set things straight. As much as I hated it when you called her an animal, I know you didn’t mean it”

“How would you know?” Quaritch snaps at Lyle. But it doesn’t faze him at the slightest, Quaritch forgets the man knows him from the inside out.

“You forget that I know you” both look at each other, the eye contact so intense, sighing in defeat, Quaritch looks down and nods his head.

“Okay” walking around Lyle, Quaritch walks towards where you had disappeared.

Spider stands next to Lyle as they both watch Quaritch disappear behind the wall to follow you.

"Why’d you let him go after her? they hate cach other." Spider ask.

"no, they don't. not really” Lyle answers.

Smiling brightly up at Rawm, you place your forehead to his when he bends down, greeting him warmly as you close your eyes.

“I miss you too, Rawm,” You start, wrapping your arms around his head.

Flapping his wings, he chirps at you and you immediately chuckle at him. Suddenly Rawm shrieks, his wings widening threateningly. Turning around, you see Quaritch standing behind you.

“I wasn’t going to fly away” you growl.

“I know” he replies with his hands up in surrender, eyes meeting yours.

“What do you want?” You grumble, turning your head away, not wanting to look at him, feeling anger bubbling in your chest.

“I just wanted to talk, darlin”

“No we don’t” you snap, turning to glare at him.

“Sweetheart, listen-“

“No, you listen” you cut him off, steeping away from Rawm and stomp closer to Quaritch, “just yesterday you were gentle, pleasant, and caring to Spider and I. And now it’s like all the little moments we had meant nothing to you. You’re hot and cold towards me specifically and it’s giving me whiplash” you shout, throwing your arms up, exaggerated.

“You think I liked calling you that?” He raises voice, not able to hold his temper back, “I had to play the part, if I didn’t, god only knows what she could’ve done to you. You think I liked seeing you with a collar and muzzle like a fucking rabid dog?”

You were taken aback as he snaps, but he wasn’t angry, he was confessing. You couldn’t hold back the tears as the start sliding down your cheeks. Damn you and your sensitive heart.

You take a step back from him and turn your head downwards slightly. Your mind was riddled with a million thoughts that you had no idea how to process at once. It was so overwhelming you could barely think straight.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart” by the sound of his voice, you could tell he doesn’t apologize often, “I really am” he hesitantly reaches for your wrist, half expecting you to slap him, anything.

Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his narrow waist. Quaritch holds his arms up in surprise, not expecting this. He slowly wraps his arms around your small frame, noticing the height difference between the two of you, you barely reach his chest.

“Scared of me dying, darlin” he couldn’t help but tease with a grin but it instantly falls when he hears your whimpers and sniffles into his chest, that’s when he realizes you’re crying.

“Oh c’mon, sweetheart, there’s no need to cry over spilled milk” he coos down at you. You step back as he loosen his arms, placing his hands on your biceps.

Using the back of your hand to wipe away any fallen tears, you look up at Quaritch who hasn’t taken his eyes off you, looking at you like you hold stars in the palm of your hands.

Unexpectedly you slap Quaritch, your palm stinging from the impact but you ignore it.

“What the hell was that for?” He looks down at you, astonished.

“That’s for almost giving me a heart attack. You do that again and I’ll throw you off the cliff myself f” you threatened, before walking around Quaritch to go back with the other. “Fuckin’ suicidal dumbass…” you mumble under you breath.

Quaritch rubs his cheek, a smirk forming as he watches you go, but couldn’t help himself as he eyes the way your tail moves side to side, almost hypnotizing him. Full of your plump ass on display, making it hard for him to look away.

Damn.

He had to fight back a groan. When he first laid his eyes on you, the outfit didn’t affect him, but now? God give him strength for he might sin.

Taglist: @alexandra-001 @commanderrivercc-3628 @henhouse-horrors @certainkittenpeach @multi-fandom-rando @zzedah @mrstargayen09 @loaksulluyswife

#recom lyle wainfleet #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #lyle wainfleet x reader #spider x reader #sully reader #polyamarous #polyamory #throuple #i wanna be yours

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