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kvredding · 8 days ago

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Waste a Moment / Part 11

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by : @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : please let me know if I miss anyone on the tags!!! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

"Give me Something I Need"

Saturday.

You hadn’t planned to slip out of bed that morning without a word to Bucky.

But Happy’s message had played in your head all night like a broken record.

Bucky shifted beside you, still lost in an all-consuming sleep. You sat still, letting him rest a little longer. Quietly, you unlocked your phone and reread the message:

You’re welcome to watch it whenever you’re ready.

Maybe you were ready now.

You glanced at the clock—8 a.m.

Maybe it was time.

You hadn’t mentioned the message to Bucky last night, and some part of you didn’t want to. He’d been so drained, drowning in worry about your next mission. He didn’t need one more thing weighing on him. Besides, last night he’d been plagued by nightmares, hiccuped murmurs and tiny cries slipping out as he fought with the demons in his dream. You’d tried waking him up, but he was too far gone to notice your fleeting touch on his skin.

Maybe, part of you kept this from him because, for once, you knew it was your own scar to carry, your own battle to fight. You thought he’d want to help, would try to shoulder the burden with you. But just this once, maybe you wanted to face it alone.

So, as quietly as possible, you slipped out of bed. Scribbling a quick note, you left it on the pillow beside him:

Happy wants me at the compound. Be back soon.

After a moment’s hesitation, you picked up the pen again and added a final line beneath it:

I love you.

—

Happy was already waiting as you entered the hallways of the compound.

“Take it slow,” Happy said softly, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder outside. “You can walk away if it gets too much.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply to steady yourself. The stillness in the media room was unnerving, the air thick and heavy as you took in the blank screen.

The blank canvas felt like a reflection of the fragments in your own mind.

You pressed play on the remote.

The first video flickered to life, and there you were.

You were whole.

You looked alive in a way that felt unfamiliar—radiant, confident, like you never doubted you belonged here.

You hardly recognized yourself— whoever she was.

In a way, you envied her. She was so… certain. So happy.

The screen revealed more moments from the life you’ve forgotten: your easy laughter, your strong and effortless movements, the way you looked at the world without the hesitations and doubts that now seemed entwined in your bones

As you watched, a recurring figure loomed in the background of each clip.

Bucky.

He was always there—hovering at the edges, never fully engaged.

In one video, you sat at the kitchen table, chatting with him, your voice bright and full of warmth. You could almost feel the hope in your own tone as you tried to draw him in.

Oh.

You noticed the way he hardly looked at you, his gaze averted, his responses clipped and distant. A slight frown tugged at your lips on the screen. Still, you’d pressed on, covering the disappointment with another forced laugh. Watching it now, you felt the sting of rejection reverberate you hadn’t felt with Bucky before.

So you let yourself wonder:

How often had you tried, only to be met with that same coldness?

The next clip flashed to you and Bucky in the gym, sparring together. You were smiling, trying to get a laugh out of him as you moved, but he was stone-faced, his eyes cold and focused only on your flaws. He corrected your stance with a harshness that bordered on contempt, barely looking at you.

It was so different from the flirty, loving touches he now shared with you in training. It was so different from the gentleness he shared with you in bed, how his arms wrapped around your waist lovingly as you slept through the night.

In the video, you stumbled, and he just watched, his gaze almost dismissive, as if your struggle wasn’t worth his time.

The camera switched to you as you turned and walked away in silence, his gaze trailing after you with a familiar vulnerability.

Clip after clip, a bleak portrait began to form. And with each scene, a twisted realisation began to settle over you like a dark cloud: Back then, you wanted him to care. You’d tried so hard to make him care— and he just… didn’t.

Did he… hate you?

It wasn’t just you and Bucky, though.

The footage flickered to glimpses of other moments, happier ones.

Yelena laughing with you, arms slung over each other’s shoulders as you traded jokes over a glass of wine.

Sparring sessions with Sam, his encouraging grin as he gave you pointers, patting you on the back when you managed a successful move.

Lazy snack breaks with Clint, the two of you sharing bags of chips and laughing about some ridiculous stunt you’d pulled on a mission.

But in every moment, Bucky was there. He was somewhere in the background, always lingering. Watching. Close enough to be present, but never close enough to be part of it. He looked like an outsider, an intruder.

Watching it all felt like a cruel joke.

Here you were, spending each day with him now, building something precious and real—or so you’d thought. This was a fracture in that reality, a fracture that had been there all along.

Had you simply been too pathetic? Had you just been too desperate for connection, that you looked past everything in order to get a fresh start?

The clips rolled on, a carousel of emotions you had no memory of feeling.

The Bucky on the screen was nothing like the man you’d come to know these past months.

This was a stranger.

A brooding figure who loomed over you, distant, dismissive, every single interaction tinged with disdain, disapproval.

What did he want from you now?

Why was he here with you, treating you with gentleness and care, like you were precious to him? Did he genuinely care? Or was he just trying to ease his own guilt, trying to make amends now that you’d forgotten how much he’d hurt you?

The final clip began, and your heart sank as you saw yourself in the doorway, pleading with him, desperation etched into every line of your face.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed in the video. “I don’t want your company. I don’t need your pity. You think you’re being nice?”

You winced at the screen.

“I feel like I can't breathe around you,”

The room fell silent, leaving you alone with the raw ache that spread like wildfire.

The Bucky who had made you feel so loved, so safe, felt like an illusion now, a fabrication designed to soothe his own guilt.

Had he hated you that much? Had he resented you?

Was this the man you were trusting with your fragile mind? The man you had trusted with rebuilding your heart?

The screen faded to black, leaving you alone with the echo of his words and the weight of memories that felt more like wounds.

You couldn’t tell which Bucky was real. The one who now held you close, whispered reassurances against your skin, made you feel wanted and safe… or the one who had once pushed you away and looked at you like you were an unwanted burden?

When you finally rose, your hands trembled.

The life you’d been building, the careful scaffolding of trust and affection you thought was real, felt like it was crumbling underneath your very feet.

You looked one last time at the face on the screen—she was a person you didn’t know, a person who had once been you. A person who had tried so hard to break through his walls, who’d given him a piece of herself only to be met with a chill that bordered on contempt.

And now, you had to wonder if there was anything left of her worth reclaiming.

—

Every fibre of your being screamed at you to run away from this godforsaken place.

The air felt suffocating, as if even the walls of the compound were conspiring to close in on you.

You couldn’t look at anyone.

You couldn’t bear the inevitable sympathy in their eyes.

All you knew, with a terrible certainty, was that you couldn’t stay here—not with Happy, who, despite the well-meaning confusion, didn’t understand the layers of the lie. Not with Sam, who was so close to Bucky he could probably piece together exactly what had been kept from you.

And not with Yelena, who, as close as she was to you, never uttered a word.

And to think, you had told her you love Bucky before you even told him.

You couldn't be with anyone else on the team.

If they had kept this from you, what else had they hidden from you?

“Wait!” Sam’s voice rang out behind you, sharp and pleading. “Happy told me… Bucky messed up, we should have— Just let me explain!”

“Explain?” The word came out a near-snarling whisper as you turned around. “Explain what, Wilson? That it was somehow for my own good? That everyone thought it was better to string me along like a fool, to keep me in the dark? Or that Bucky—�� your voice cracked as his name left your mouth, a crack that felt like it reached deep into the crater that had formed in your chest. “That Bucky can only stand to be around me now that I don’t remember how much he used to hate me?”

Behind him, Happy slowed to a jog. His expression was gentle, but hopeless. “I—I didn’t know,” he stammered, “I didn’t know he would come across like this—”

“Don’t.” The word lodged in your throat as you shook your head, stepping back.. “Just…stay away from me. Both of you.”

Sam stood there, his mouth half-open. He wanted to bridge it, to find some way to fix this— you were his friend, and Bucky was the closest thing to his best friend, after all— but he kept his distance.

The shattered look on Sam’s face told you he understood.

You turned before the tears could break through, fleeing down the steps, your footsteps echoing hollowly against the sterile walls, each stride dragging you further from the truth, further from everything you thought you knew.

It felt so eerily like the day you snuck out of the compound the first night you remembered.

You had trusted them—all of them. Clint, Bruce, Scott, Rhodey, Happy, Sam, Yelena…and Bucky. Especially Bucky.

The Bucky you thought you’d known, the Bucky who’d held you close in the dark hours, who’d promised to protect you.

As you reached the exit, gasping for air that felt painfully thin you realised that maybe you had never truly known him at all.

—

By the time you stumbled through the door, Bucky was already gone, out on his morning run. The apartment felt hollow once again, just like when you first moved back in. You shut the door behind you, locking out the world. You leaned against the door to hold yourself up. The anger that had burned out in a great ball of fire was now replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion.

The home– your home– that you had welcomed Bucky into, that you’d come to share with him— felt surreal. Every piece of clothing that was his, every soft throw blanket you cuddled under felt like a mocking reminder of what you’d thought was real—his gentle smiles, his soft voice pulling you out of the dark, his arms wrapped around you in those vulnerable hours just before dawn. But now you knew it was only a cruel joke you hadn’t been in on.

What truly haunted you was how quickly he had changed.

You saw the time stamps— put everything together.

I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around you, he had said.

That was the night before mission.

You woke up a week after.

He turned disdain to affection in one week? How was that even possible? And who’s to say he won’t change again in another week?

Your legs gave out and you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. Somewhere, deep in your heart, there was a fragile shard of hope, clinging desperately to the idea that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. But that hope was buried deep now, with no chance of ever clowning it back out.

The videos Happy had shown you kept replaying in your mind, like a twisted record skipping over the worst parts— Bucky, cold and dismissive.

You’d trusted him, told everything to him, let him be the anchor in a life you could barely remember. And yet, he had pushed you away, treated you like an inconvenience, and let you believe in this version of him that never truly existed.

One week.

That was all it took for him not to hate you anymore, apparently. He must want something from you, right?

And after all that you’ve been through, you would not let yourself be used— not as a vessel for Bucky Barnes to ease his guilt, if that even was what he’s looking for.

And to think that he had any right to deny you of a mission you were ready for.

To think that you had let him dote on you, let him control you?

It made you feel sick.

The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted you. Your heart skipped as Bucky stepped inside, looking every bit the familiar, gentle Bucky you’d grown to love. He carried a bag of groceries, likely planning another quiet night in, oblivious to things you now know.

When his stare landed on you, his brows furrowed with concern. “Hey,” he said softly, setting down the bag, “Everything okay?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “You need to leave,” you said, your voice coming out cold and sharp. It was the only armour you had left.

He blinked, confused. “What?”

“Get out.” you spat.

Bucky’s face fell into a frown, his confusion twisting into panic. “What’s going on?” He took a tentative step toward you, but you backed away, each inch of distance feeling like a wall between you.

“Happy showed me footage from the last three years,” you managed, your voice trembling. “I saw the way you treated me—like I was nothing, like you couldn’t stand the sight of me. You didn’t even like me, did you?”

Bucky froze.

Shit.

Too late. He was always too damn late when it came to you.

He’d been so obsessed that Yelena might spill everything, that he’d forgotten about Happy—the one person who was in charge over those cameras, with no idea of the mess he’d even made. Well-meaning Happy, who would have only shown you the footage because he thought it would help.

Then, a wave of guilt crashed over.

God, he should’ve told you. He should have given you something, a thread of truth to hold onto, a warning, anything to soften the blow. But now—what did he have? Just the wreckage of a truth you’d been blindsided by.

And he knew how it looked.

Even if he wanted to tell you why he was distant, would you even let him try to explain? Or would you see it as just another lie, another desperate attempt to hide the truth from you?

The colour drained from his face, and his mouth opened as if to speak, but you cut him off, your words rushing forward, filled with years of hurt you hadn’t didn’t you could carry.

“I trusted you, Barnes! After everything, you were the one person I trusted—my memory’s gone, my past, all of it, but I had you.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on, each word heavier than the last. “But you couldn’t stand me before, could you? You only started caring once I forgot. Once I couldn’t remember all the times you looked at me with nothing but resentment.”

His eyes widened.

“No, no, it’s not… it’s not like that,” he stammered, a visible desperation, shaken to his core. “Please, it’s not what you think—”

“Then what is it?” you shot back, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your voice. “Did you just prefer me like this? Do you like me broken? Do you like me weak? Does this do something for you? You sick fuck.”

He stepped closer, hands up as if to calm you. “You don’t understand. I—”

“I don’t understand?” you choked out, the agony spilling over. “I saw how you looked at me, how you dismissed me. Am I supposed to believe this—” his hands pointed up and down his body, “—is real?”

His face twisted in pain, but you refused to let yourself feel anything for him, anything but the betrayal coursing through your veins wildfire.

“It was all a lie,” you whispered, shattered.

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head desperately. “It wasn’t… it’s not a lie. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off. You pointed toward the door. “I want you to leave.”

His eyes, filled with anguish, filled with tears burning on the edge “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“I don’t know you, Barnes,” you replied, your voice hollow, drained of all feeling. “Not really. And after what I saw, I don’t think I want to.”

“Please—”

“Out!” you cut him off.

He stood there, waiting for you to find your footing, but you held firm, your voice as cold as the truth you’d uncovered.

Finally, he gave a small, defeated nod.

Slowly, he turned, each step toward the door reluctant. When he reached the threshold, he paused, his hand hovering on the doorknob, as if waiting for a sign, some word from you that might let him stay.

But when he glanced back, he found only the sharp gaze you levelled at him. Whatever hope he’d held onto was lost.

Without another word, he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

—

You stood there, staring at the closed door. For the first time, you felt the void he’d left behind.

You did it.

You had pushed him out of your life as he had once pushed you away.

But instead of relief, the hurt deepened, and the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free. You sank to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, your body trembling as sobs reverberated through you.

You had lost everything—your past, your memories, and now the only person who you had loved in this new, fractured life.

-to be continued...

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kvredding · 8 days ago

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Buy The Book - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: I got inspired by that movie, idk what to say

Warnings: Kidnapped

Word Count: 2393

Requests:OPEN

[Thank you for the gif @bill-weasley ]

Enjoy!

Something was off about the day and no one believed you.

Maybe it was the morose hotel room your agent had put you in for the week, or maybe it was just the gray foggy weather. Either way out you felt like something was wrong, you felt like you were being watched.

“Honey, I needed you ready like 30 minutes ago.” Your agent, Santana, stresses the second she enters the hotel room with her own key copy. She attacks you quickly, pulling you from the bed and pulling you to where you had laid out your shoes the night before. “This is ridiculous and you know it.”

“I just have a bad feeling.” You mumble, letting her slip the heels on you as if you were a child. She pats your calf solemnly before standing to fix your hair and check your makeup one more time.

“I know, you’ve told me all of this before. . You feel as though you are being watched, Michael Jackson style. You don’t feel good. You forgot to eat breakfast. You forgot to wash your laptop.” She rants, snatching both your ids for the event before grabbing both your bags and leading you out of the room.

You turn at the least second, needing to see the door shut for your own sanity before you allow her to lead the way.

“I think you are just stressed. You have always hated large crowds and you hate talking in front of people but this is a necessity. You have a terrific book out and you need to own it.” Terrific is definitely not how you would describe the book. Not in the slightest. But Santana had always admired your books far too much.

It had started years ago, 8 books exactly, and you had been up on an all nighter the day the original project came to mind.

You had been taking a publishing class and among 24 other aspiring authors you were sure the dream wasn’t worth it anymore. Especially after you had all received the project for the next month, write your own novel.

There were hundreds of ideas that came to mind for you, heroes and villains alike, and you were sure that no matter what genre you picked from the suspense bucket your professor carried around you would have it down. Then you unrolled it you saw in the neatest handwriting you had ever seen….ROMANCE.

And you knew you were screwed.

Up all night, page after page of ideas you can do, all of which you hated. You hated the genre, the least romantic person alive and of course fate would have you be the one to choose the subject. You had always wanted to do fantasy, with epic battles or sci fi.

Anything but romance.

You were just about to give up, hyping yourself up to march to your professors class and demand a new one, but then on the way out of the library in an attempt to hide from the sun like a forgotten demon you ended up running into the campus crazy.

Redmayne, an old man that swears his family was murdered one night by a man with a metal arm, that he had stolen something from his family. “THE WINTER SOLDIER! HE’S COMING FOR US ALL!”

And he had sketched the face onto the sign he carried around.

You remember stopping short, nearly stumbling from the sudden stop as your bag swung around and you took in the sketch. You were a terrible person to say that the sketch was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen.

Just a black and white coal sketch and your heart was beating through your chest.

“Sir,” You called, already feeling like a fool. “I have 40 dollars in my pocket and I’ll give it all to you for that sign.”

And thus your new world was created.

‘The Frost Warrior’ was born, weeks of pouring over your laptop as you created the story of a man named Jameson Boone, a man who once fought for his country and now served as a brainwashed assassin. And no one could forget the leading lady, the spy that met him on a mission and have continued to work together since, with tension and heat keeping them close.

Your teacher had loved it so much she recommended it, and you received an agent. And the series became real.

Soon enough the ‘Frost Warrior’ and his true love were being snatched from every bookshelf as people followed along with their journey.

“I think it was the last book.” You mumble, watching the elevator doors close you both in as she whips her head to glare.

“What? What do you mean?” She snaps out. “Jameson just got freed from their captors!”

“So? Now what will he do?” You laugh bitterly, pulling at the awkward outfit you were wearing. “The Frost Soldier is out in the real world. There is no more story.”

“Bitch, revenge.” Your publicist snaps, hands out in the hair from shock. “I want him to get his revenge. To…… to find that person. The head of it all. I want Jameson to come back and prove himself. Last book? We have built an empire off these novels and you want it to be the last book?”

“I don’t know. It seems weird. With all the fighting on the news, did you see that captain america footage? It just feels like there are more serious things to-”

“We will talk about this later.” She snaps once the doors open, pulling you with her to meet your awaiting fans.

Minutes go by and soon enough you're blinking to try and see through the amount of flash photography there was, smiling a tight smile as it all begins to die down and the questions start coming in.

“What was your inspiration?”

“A sign, years ago, with a drawing on it.” You smile.

“Did you inspire Stephen off of Steve Rogers?”

“No. I actually have no clue where he came from.”

“You mentioned on your last tour that the rare amulet the Frost Warrior had gone to find was inspired by the ‘Amulet of Ronav’ which was just recently given to a museum after being missing since your book. Were you excited about the news?”

“Yes.” You admit, nodding. “Though I am so curious as to who randomly decided to return that.”

“Do you think the ‘Frost Warrior’ will try and find some of the weapons that ‘Baskilisk’ was making him hunt down? Maybe assassinate the monsters that hurt him?”

And you drew blank on that question because truth was you could see it, you could see the man of your imagination crawling through vents and tunnels to find the weapons before they could. You could see him growing his relationship with his old best friend and joining the new world with his leading lady.

But you didn’t want to anymore.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You rush out, standing quickly to walk out of the conference and rush to the bathrooms. Nauseated and tired.

This was never what you had imagined.

In your rush to run some cold water and pour it on your face you missed the man coming into the bathroom right behind you until you stood at full height to look in the mirror. Jumping quite a bit when you see him.

“OH MY-” You whirl, kicking out and managing to hit his thigh before his own hand reaches out to grab your throat, pushing you into the wall beside the sink and cutting off your circulation as you scratch and claw at his hands.

His eyes were red, not bloodshot but the pupils of them were red, like a demon and by the way he didn’t even flinch when you scratched across his face you were sure he was.

“Easy now pet.” He mumbles, pushing you up by your throat until your feet were no longer on the floor. “I ain’t gonna kill ya. I just need you to…..”

And the words were missed by the way your vision blacked out, body going limp.

“Oh, can we get the bag off her head please?” A voice breaks out, sounding a bit slow as you blink in a pitch black nothing, until someone roughly pulls the bag over your head and you are forced into a new light. “Oh, she does not look well.”

“They drugged her in the car.” Someone behind you mumbles as your head sinks forward, trying to close your eyes again.

You must have passed out for a couple more minutes before a bucket of freezing cold water is splashed over you, snapping you awake in a panic. You struggle to catch your breath as you fight against the restraints on your wrists and ankles.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” You manage to scream out, your voice scratchy and dry as the bondages scratch and pull at the skin. But you can’t stop the panic, can’t stop the way your body struggles and your breaths shorten, can’t stop the tears from falling down until you can taste the salt of them. “What. The. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry, really, about all of this.” Someone sighs out, wearing an overly expensive tux and far too much gel in his hair. “I’m a big fan and it was never meant to get this far.”

“What the fuck.?” You gasp out, looking around you in attempt to process what was going on. Every wall was gray and metal, with what looked to be bolts sticking out, the floor concrete. Nothing to recognize.

The men standing around you all stood with guns at their hips wearing black on black, all looking a bit bored at the moment which was a complete contrast to how you were feeling.

“Am I in a warehouse?”

“GOOD EYE!” The gel hair laughs out, clapping his hands together. “You are just absolutely marvelous.Didn’t I tell you guys?”

“You’re going to kill me!” You cry out, fighting against the restraints a little more. “Please please please, don’t! I’ll give you anything!”

“We don’t want to kill you lovey.” He sighs out, coming to pull a bit of your hair between his fingertips. “We just need some information.”

You stay silent in hopes that he will explain more, closing your eyes to try and even out your breathing, making your body go still to try and ease some of the burn you had given yourself from fighting against the zip tie. Only he doesn’t keep talking, instead he watches you as if you were stupid.

“Information….on?” It felt silly, pulling an attitude while being tied up to the chair.

“The Winter Soldier.” The man smiles, still looking confused that you didn’t already know, tilting his head as he awaited your answer. “Oh. right. I apologize, you probably prefer to call him that code name….. The Frost Warrior.”

It’s silent for a moment while you blink at him, finally coming to terms with what he was saying before you burst out into laughter so hard that your ribs started aching. You couldn’t stop laughing, the tears less of panic and more so of humor now as you tried to calm down.

“Excuse me-” Gel hair tries to interrupt before you shake your head.

“Okay, where are the damn cameras?” You blurt, laughing as you turn to look for them. “This is a prank, right?”

“I can assure you-”

“Honestly Santana did too much this time.” You laugh. “You want to know about the Frost Warrior, well hate to break it to you bud, that was my last book.”

“Last book?”

“Yes, Last one.” Your laugh dies down a bit. “No more Jameson Boone, no more searching for lost and ancient weapons. Or being an assassin.”

“Well….Jameson Boone has stolen something from me. And I think he needs to be handled. So I would disagree.” Gel hair bites out, taking a couple steps forward in anger, and you begin to realize that he was being completely serious.

“You have been publishing stories that have actual information in them for years and now I;m currently being HUNTED by that fool and I know you know his next move so you NEED TO TELL ME!”

“Wait-” You gasp as you catch the glint of a knife right before his body slumps down quickly, everyone not tied to a chair moving forward to see what might have happened. You angle your body to look to see what happened and you notice the bullet hole the same time they do.

A scream tears through your throat as the men around you all raise their guns in their own panic.

More pops ring out and more bodies slump before a hooded figure marches into the room. Every move is one done in grace, when they smash their foot in someone's face they don’t miss a second before throwing someone over their shoulder and smashing a gun.

You take this opportunity to try and escape, throwing your body in an attempt to get rid of the zip ties only for the chair to fall back, your body with it, both landing with a heavy thud as your head cracks into the concrete.

“Oh…” You whine out in pain, wanting nothing more than to hold your head as the hooded figure comes to stand over you. “Wait, please I beg you-”

“Don’t.” The figure grunts out, reaching up to remove the hood, the face from the sign years ago. The same jaw and the same eyebrows pinched together in anger. “And maybe next time you’re kidnapped you shouldn’t offer to give them everything.”

“Oh my god.” You gasp out, blinking twice as much to erase the image. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.”

“Come on.” He grunts, lifting the chair to slice the zip ties with his knife easily, hauling you over his shoulder.

“You’re not real.” You mumble, feeling something warm leak down your face. “Oh my god I hit my head and I’m bleeding out. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I am. Because I’m talking to a fictional character right now.” You’re set down then, on your feet so the man before you can assess the damage with an angry glare.

“We haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Bucky Barnes…. I think…. And you’ve been writing novels about me.”

Part 2?

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kvredding · 10 days ago

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Bucky Barnes Masterlist

1. Alpine.

2. Teddy Bear.

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kvredding · 10 days ago

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The Holidays Series Masterlist

College!Quarterback!Bucky Barnes + Curvy!College!Reader

W.C.- Tba

Warnings- Smut, fluff, angst, each one has its own warnings.

Summary- A series of one shots that explore the relationship between Bucky and reader.

Spooky Secrets & Sweet Treats- You and the gang decorate for Halloween and host a Halloween party. During which a heated argument starts up between you and Bucky, revealing some hidden truths. Will these new truths lead to a new relationship and a fresh start between you two, or will it become worse than before?

Fall Days & Long Games- You get tired of Bucky avoiding you, so you corner him before his game. After more revealed secrets, will things finally be okay? Or will your relationship just get worse? And of course, when John Walker is thrown into the mix, something always happens.

Friendsgiving-

More tba

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kvredding · 12 days ago

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Since You've Been Gone - Masterlist (In Progress)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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kvredding · 13 days ago

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Marvel: Unplanned Masterlist

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, fluff, idiots in love. Each chapter will have their own warnings :) Written in first person!

Words: Currently not completed.

(Coming real soon)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

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kvredding · 14 days ago

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The Queen and Her King

~ series masterlist ~

Summary: Y/n L/n becomes Queen of Astoria not that she wanted to. Prince James of Winterfeld meets her and falls in love.

Series Warnings: angst. fluff. historical inaccuracies. small amount of past child abuse. accusations of infertility (being barren). death. swearing. and that’s pretty much it.

Word Count: 32,084

Status: ongoing (every monday)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

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kvredding · 22 days ago

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the winter soldier's weakness

bucky and y/n have been free from Hydra for two years, trying to make a life of their own. but that becomes a struggle when bucky is framed for a bombing (3,036 word count)

*I'll probably make this into a series :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

both bucky and user are victims of hydra, violence, husband!bucky, telekinetic!reader, telepathic!reader, established relationship, PTSD struggles, brief mention of sexual assault, kidnapping, psychological and physical torture, angst, let me know if i forgot anything x

Bucky and Y/n have been free from Hydra for nearly two years and are beginning to build their own lives. When Hydra took Bucky in the 1940s, they couldn't get him to break in the way they wanted. They weren't able to remove his humanity entirely. No matter how often they wiped his mind, Bucky never forgot his wife. His mind clung to her memory, and they knew they couldn't control him without her.

Growing up, Steve, Bucky, and Y/n were a trio—best friends. They were inseparable. But as time passed and they got older, Bucky and Y/n's friendship became romantic. Bucky and Y/n married shortly before Bucky was sent off to war.

Hydra kidnapped Y/n from her and Bucky's home in Brooklyn and began running experiments on her shortly after Bucky was brought into their containment. She developed similar abilities as Wanda Maximoff, but her power was inconsequential compared to what Wanda would come to be. Nevertheless, they used Y/n as a bargaining chip to get The Winter Soldier to cooperate; they made her his partner on his missions. Or, they would threaten to kill her if he didn't complete the missions he was sent on. Even in the dark ocean that was The Winter Soldier's mind, his subconscious still clung to his love for Y/n.

Y/n never became a hardened killer like Bucky; she, too, clung to her humanity. But she knew if she refused to complete her orders, she would be tortured or killed. Or worse, they would torture Bucky to punish her.

Y/n had been sent with Bucky when instructed to kill Steve Rogers and prevent him from stopping the Heli carrier launch. So, when all was said and done, Bucky dragged Steve and Y/n from the river. He left Steve behind but scooped Y/n up in his arms and set off with her. However, Steve doesn't know that the woman with Bucky is Y/n because she wears a mask like Bucky.

Ever since, the two have been trying to put the pieces of their new life together while overcoming their PTSD and mind control. They wanted to start over and be good people. The longer they went without getting their minds wiped, the more memories from their life together in the 1940s came back. All they wanted was to live a semi-normal life as husband and wife and leave their life with Hydra behind them.

Y/n and Bucky were having a typical day, or their version of normal, when they saw an article in the newspaper saying Bucky had bombed a building in Vienna. The two of them quickly returned to their apartment, preparing to flee and find somewhere off the grid to live, when Bucky stopped midstep, gripping Y/n's arm as his eyes landed on Steve Rogers, who stood in the middle of their apartment.

Steve turned to look at the two of them, and he flinched at the sight of Y/n, who was positioned protectively behind Bucky. "You're..." Steve muttered to himself as he looked at Y/n, blinking rapidly as if she would disappear. You're alive." He gaped, and Y/n shifted on her feet nervously. "When I came out of the ice, I looked for you... they said you died of natural causes in 1998. But you're..." He swallowed roughly, trying to decipher if she even remembered him or if Bucky did, for that matter.

"Do you know me?" Steve asked the two of them. Bucky swallowed roughly, nudging Y/n further behind him. He wasn't sure of Steve's intentions. The last thing the two of them wanted was to be drug off to some facility and get their minds picked apart by doctors. Bucky would rather die than let Y/n be subjected to another form of captivity. She was struggling immensely with her PTSD, maybe more so than Bucky, and he refused to put her in a distressing environment like a psychiatric facility where the two of them would be separated. All they knew was each other.

"You're Steve. I read about you in a museum," Bucky says flatly, his metal hand resting possessively over Y/n's abdomen to keep her behind him.

"Is that all you know about me? What you read in the museum?" Steve asks, his voice trembling slightly as he looks between them. Y/n looked up at Bucky anxiously as they heard a voice say, 'They set the perimeter' in Steve's earpiece. An average person wouldn't have been able to catch it, but they both had enhanced hearing.

He's come to take us away. Y/n said telepathically to Bucky, jumping to conclusions. He's distracting us so they can trap us.

"The bombing... we didn't do it," Bucky says cautiously, his hand still blocking Y/n from moving closer to Steve.

"The people who think you did are coming here now, and they're not planning on taking you alive," Steve warns, and Bucky bristles.

"Nobody's laying a finger on her," Bucky says lowly, and Y/n shifts her feet anxiously as she hears people outside their apartment.

Steve scrambles for something to say as the authorities surround the apartment, "You pulled me from the river, why?" he demands. Bucky ignores him, pulling Y/n against him in a protective gesture.

"We're getting out of here," Bucky mutters quietly to her, and she nods. Using her telekinetic abilities, she pulls her and Bucky's emergency bags across the room and into their hands. Bucky quickly puts on his backpack, and so does Y/n.

Y/n gasps, and Bucky cradles her head with his hands as two grenades get thrown through the window, but Steve quickly covers the grenades with his shield, stopping the blow.

Officers and agents begin to breach the apartment. Driven by pure instinct, Y/n begins to fling the men out of their way as Bucky leads her out, using his strength to force the men out of their path. "Stay behind me, baby," Bucky calls over his shoulder as he punches one of the men into the wall. Y/n glances back, catching a glimpse of Steve fighting off the men in her and Bucky's apartment.

Y/n takes Bucky's hand and uses her telekinetic powers to propel them flyingly down the many flights of stairs. Once they land on solid ground, Bucky takes her hand and hastily leads her towards the exit, punching his way through the row of men while Y/n shoves any other lingering threats out of the way with her powers.

The minute they step out of the apartment building, they're surrounded by hundreds of men with large guns and a helicopter hovering over them. In the middle of the wall of men was T'Challa. Bucky comes to a halt, Y/n bumping into his back. He spins around, grabbing Y/n's wrist to take her with him as he attempts to escape through the building, but Steve is blocking his way.

"If you fight it, you'll only make it worse," Steve tries to reason. Bucky's breathing was erratic, driven by the desire to keep Y/n out of harm's way. Y/n looked around at the people surrounding them, tightly holding onto Bucky's jacket.

"She's my wife, Steve," Bucky pleads with him, hoping he'll somehow give them a way to escape.

The agents close in on them, knocking Bucky and Y/n to their knees as they cuff them. The officers had unique cuffs designed to remove Y/n's mutant abilities so she couldn't use mind control on the men. She nearly fell forward once the cuffs were secure, growing weak from the debilitating handcuffs.

"Buck..." she mutters weakly.

"Take those cuffs off of her!" Bucky demands, fighting against the officers who were trying to subdue him. Hydra often used similar cuffs on Y/n so she couldn't escape, so he knew how weak they made her. Not to mention, they were a PTSD trigger for her.

"It's for our protection until you're both evaluated," one of the officers insists as they yank Y/n to her feet, her legs wobbling beneath her. Her breathing grows shallow as she realizes she cannot defend herself, panic brewing in her gut.

Seeing Y/n's distress, Bucky fights harder against the men as they restrain him. Bucky grunts angrily, realizing he can't fight off all these men, "I'm right here, doll. Just breathe, baby," Bucky calls to her, his voice shaking with barely contained rage, "You don't need to use those fucking cuffs on her," Bucky growls as they pull him to his feet.

"She's unstable. We can't risk her using her abilities on us," one of the men says as they start shoving Y/n and Bucky toward the transportation vehicles, tugging Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson behind them. Silent tears began to stream down Y/n's face as she tried to look over her shoulder at Bucky.

"I know, baby," Bucky said as he caught a glimpse of her face. "I'm right here, it's gonna be okay," he said, his voice tinged with desperation.

She nods slightly as she's shoved into the vehicle. She could see Steve, Sam, and T'Challa being put into a van behind theirs out of the corner of her eye.

The officers force Y/n and Bucky into the vehicle, strapping them into restraints so they could hardly move. Y/n's breathing was erratic, and her body trembled as they finished strapping her in. Hydra agents used to strap her down to partially keep her from escaping but also so she couldn't move when they did vile things to her.

They strapped Bucky into the seat opposite hers so they were facing each other. "Please, " Y/n whispered to herself, unsure of what she'd be pleading for.

Bucky's eyes bore into her face, "I'm right here with you, doll. I'm right here. Nothing's gonna happen while I'm here," he promised, his body trembling with the urge to touch her.

"I don't like this," Y/n says, her voice trembling. Bucky grimaced from her sob, the sound cutting through him like a knife.

"I know, but we're gonna be alright. We have each other. That's all we need," Bucky says to reassure her and himself. He knew he had to try to keep her calm.

"I heard them say they're going to separate us when we get there," she says shakily, "They're scared I'll influence your answers when they evaluate us."

When they arrived at the facility, the two were separated. Y/n was put in an office with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Y/n sat at the table in the office, tapping her foot anxiously. She hasn't been away from Bucky for at least 70 years. Even when they were trapped in Hydra's facilities, they were still together.

"What happened? How are you alive?" Steve asks Y/n.

"Isn't it obvious?" she asks rhetorically as she watches the footage of Bucky getting evaluated.

"I'm sorry," Steve says earnestly. Y/n glances away from the screen, nodding in acknowledgment at Steve, before focusing back on the video of Bucky, "How did you end up with Hydra?" Steve asks cautiously.

Y/n sighs, fiddling with the cheap wedding band on her finger. She and Bucky got them not too long ago since they couldn't afford wedding rings. Hydra took their real ones away in the 40s, "After Bucky was subjected to all of the experiments, he became the perfect weapon. The only problem was he wouldn't obey them; even with his mind wiped, he kept trying to break free from where he was kept. To get to me," she says, "I guess they thought he would listen to them if I were under their control. So, they took me. The rest is history." she explains, looking back at the screen.

"Here's a receipt for your gear," Sharon Carter says as she enters the office, handing a paper to Sam.

"Bird costume? Come on," Sam scoffs.

"I didn't write it," Sharon says as she subtly turns the audio to the video on so they can hear. Y/n had tried to turn it on with her abilities, but the cuffs were still firmly placed on her wrists so that she couldn't access her powers. She was defenseless without them. She wasn't a skilled fighter like Bucky and didn't have super strength, either.

Y/n perks up in her seat as the audio comes through, "I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" the interviewer asks, only to be meant with silence, "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky," Bucky says weakly. Y/n fidgets in her seat. She wants to be with him and help him. She watches the screen intently, reading his every microexpression as Steve talks with Sharon and Sam.

"Why would Task Force release this photo to begin with?" Steve asks.

"Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?" Sharon suggests.

"Right. It's a good way to flush two people out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. You get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier." Steve says.

"He didn't bomb anything," Y/n says defensively.

"So, someone framed him to find him?" she asks.

"We looked for Bucky for two years and found nothing," Sam adds.

"We didn't bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads," Steve quips.

"Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would," Sharon says, and their heads turn toward the screen.

"You need to take these off me," Y/n begs Sharon as she rises from her seat, holding her wrists before her, "If Bucky turns into... him... I'll need to use my powers."

"I can't do that," Sharon says seconds before the building lights go off. Everyone freezes.

"Take them off!" Y/n demands shakily. Sharon sighs and types a code onto the cuffs, making them pop open. The minute the cuffs are off, Y/n's mind searches the facility for Bucky in an attempt to locate him. She knew he would be racked with guilt if he accidentally hurt someone. She wanted to stop that from happening.

"Sub-level five, East Wing," Sharon says, and Y/n immediately takes off in that direction. Steve and Sam are hot on her trail. While she runs through the halls and down flights of stairs, she tries to reach out to Bucky with her mind, but she's met with a mental wall. He wasn't Bucky anymore.

"I need to find him," Y/n says frantically as she rounds a corner, Steve and Sam trailing behind her, "And you can't be there when I do," she says firmly. Y/n stops in her tracks as she spots the interviewer lying on the floor, weakly asking for help. Rage boils up in her stomach, and she launches him up with her powers, yanking him over until he is hovering in front of her. He gasped for air, her powers cutting off his oxygen supply, "Where is he?" she demanded.

"Y/n, stop," Steve tries to reason, but he's thrown into the wall by The Winter Soldier. Y/n immediately drops the interviewer onto the floor with a thud and whirls around to face Bucky.

"Солдат! (soldier)," Y/n addressed Bucky. He froze at the sound of her voice, releasing Steve as he slowly turned to face her, "Он не наш враг. (he's not our enemy)," she said gently, approaching him cautiously.

"Y/n," Bucky mutters, standing like a statue as Y/n walks over to him.

She smiles softly, holding her hands up in a submissive gesture, "Ты знаешь, я бы никогда не причинил тебе вреда (you know I would never hurt you)," she says softly as she carefully takes one of his hands in hers, "Моя задача защитить тебя, а ты защитить меня (it's my task to protect you, and for you to protect me)," she says as she interlinks their fingers. Steve rose to his feet slowly, watching anxiously. Bucky's head snaps in Steve's direction, his hands quickly grabbing Y/n to yank her behind him.

"Нет, нет! Он не угроза (no, no! he's not a threat)," Y/n says quickly, tugging on the back of Bucky's shirt.

"Steve Rogers враг Гидры, угроза для вас (Steve Rogers is an enemy to Hydra, a threat to you)," Bucky says, his voice void of emotion.

"Нет," Y/n says softly but firmly, turning Bucky to look at her, "Он твой друг (he's your friend)," she insists. Bucky's eyes scan over her face with an almost medical-grade sense. Y/n smiles softly, thinking he's understanding, until he lifts her and throws her over his shoulder. She yelps in surprise; Bucky punches Steve with his free arm, knocking him to the ground, "Bucky, stop!" Y/n says, fighting against his grip.

Bucky forces his way out of the building, holding Y/n firmly over his shoulder. In a moment of desperation, Y/n slips into Bucky's mind. She floods his thoughts with memories of them as children and teenagers, some including Steve, then memories of them together in Bucharest. Bucky stumbles slightly, still holding onto Y/n firmly.

Bucky shudders, letting out a shaky breath as he loosens his grip on Y/n so she can stand again. Bucky blinks rapidly as if he's trying to decipher what's real.

"It's okay," Y/n says gently, reaching up to rest her hand on the side of his face but he grabs her wrist roughly. His eyes snap to her face, and he lets out a puff of air. He realizes it's only her, and he releases her wrist. "You're safe," she says softly, resting her hand on his face.

"We're not safe as long as we're here," Bucky says gruffly, glancing around the building. Y/n lets out a shaky breath, rubbing the side of his face with her thumb, "I don't want to be a weapon anymore," he says with a tremble in his voice, "I want to live a life. With you," he swallows roughly.

Y/n smiles and stands on her tiptoes to rest her forehead against his, "We can live whatever life we want." she whispers. Bucky shuts his eyes, exhaling shakily.

Steve approaches the two of them cautiously, clutching his side from the harsh blow he received when Bucky knocked him to the ground, "I can help you," he says shakily, "I can help you hide. Please."

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kvredding · 30 days ago

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Wolf Maiden

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: Betrayed by those closest to you, you are left as a sacrifice for crimes of witchcraft, expected to be killed by the otherworldly creatures that dwell in the forest. You wait for death, only for destiny to find you instead.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 6995

Warnings: werewolves, mates, false accusations of witchcraft, mentions of assumed infertility, reader has a birthmark on her thigh (only the shape of it is described), attempted sexual assault, attempted murder, actual murder (violence and gore), this is a non A/B/O werewolf fic (just regular monsterfucking with knotting, oral sex, and sizekink here) and a very smutty ending

“Y/N Y/L/N, you have been found guilty of witchcraft.”

The wind bit into your bare skin where your ragged dress didn’t cover you. Your arms had long lost any sensation from hanging in the restraints, a mercy considering the wounds from the bindings. Every movement made the wooden frame creak; maybe if you’d had the strength, you could have broken free, but three days of starvation and a meager amount of water had left you exhausted and weak.

“The sentence is death, and shall be carried out by the full moon tomorrow, where you shall be offered as sacrifice to the beasts of the forest.”

Your anger was still burning a righteous pit in your gut. Nathaniel, your cowardly, monstrous husband, had come to see you before the sentence was carried out, and you wished you had clawed his eyes out of his skull. It was all his fault.

“On the chance that you survive until morning, the sentence shall be carried out by hanging.”

He’d never gotten past your inability to bear him a child, never considered it might have been him that was the problem. When his slimy brother had tried to proposition you with hopes of being a stand-in, you had spurned him, only for him and their mother to accuse you of the seduction, and Nathaniel had seen an opportunity to rid himself of his “barren” wife. A birthmark on your thigh that vaguely resembled a crescent moon was credited as the Devil’s Mark, and the whole village had been in uproar. You had never been particularly religious, a notion that worked against you once Nathaniel and his family had begun their lies. According to them, you had bedded half the village, and men were all too eager to blame their weaknesses on a woman.

Especially one who could read.

The moon was high in the sky now, full and bright, bathing the small clearing in white. None of the villagers had hung around to see your sentence carried out - they would either find you dead in the morning, or you would be alive only for them to hang you. There had never been a hanging after a sentence like this; you didn’t believe the stories they told children about the monstrous things in the woods, but you fully believed in bears, wolves, and other hungry predators. If that was your end, you would prefer it to facing the gibbering idiots you’d once called your community.

What little wind there had been suddenly disappeared. Everything was still and silent, aside from your shallow breaths, but it was quiet enough for you to hear the rustle of something in the tree line. You lifted your head weakly, scanning the darkness, but your vision was blurry, so you couldn’t discern anything in the shadows.

If death was coming for you, you were beginning to wish it would hurry up.

Something moved again, and this time, you saw the shadows move. They extended out from the trees until they weren’t a shadow anymore, and you felt fear run down your spine when it stepped out. It was at least seven feet tall, broad shouldered, covered in black fur, and though it walked on two legs, it looked more like a wolf than a man. Startling blue eyes fixed on you, and the creature sniffed the air, prowling a little closer. Sharp teeth and claws gleamed in the moonlight, and as it grew closer, you didn’t make a sound, watching with a dreadful understanding that the tales you’d been told from so young may not have been so made up.

The beast was close enough that you could smell the scent of wet dog clinging to it. It stepped up to the wooden frame, casting its gaze over the bindings and the crusted blood on your arms, then it met your gaze with… pity?

You must have been imagining it. It got closer, sniffing at you curiously, and you held your breath, closing your eyes when his muzzle dragged down the front of your ruined dress. “Please,” you prayed in a barely audible whisper, “kill me quickly.”

It reared back. “Kill you?” it repeated in a throaty yet masculine growl.

Surprise made your eyes snap open again. “You - you can speak?”

He blinked at you. “Yes,” he replied gruffly, before reaching for your bindings. You flinched, still uncertain of his desire, even as he used his claws to break the restraints and caught you before you could hit the floor. He lowered you gently in his arms, checking you over. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

His behavior was confusing. “I don’t understand,” you managed, despite your raw throat. “You - you aren’t going to kill me?”

“No,” he chuckled, though the sound was odd.

“But you’re… you’re the Beast, aren’t you? The one who protects the village.”

He growled lightly. “I do not protect the village,” he rumbled unhappily. “I protect the forest from the village.” With a sigh, he inspected your wrists. “You are not the first I have freed from this place.”

“You freed all the others?”

If he had an answer to your question, he didn’t give it, scooping you up off of the ground again. You were too weak to fight him if you wanted to, and he was so warm you couldn’t resist curling into him, resting against his broad chest as he walked away from the village. “I will help you,” he murmured, “as I helped the others. When you are safe, I will return, and make it look like you were killed in the night.”

You didn’t particularly want to think about what he would do to imitate a death; you’d heard the stories of the bloodied pieces left behind of others sentenced to the same fate. If this creature had deceived the village elders, you only felt amusement that they were so easily convinced, and some relief that previous innocent parties had escaped their intended punishment.

Wherever he was taking you was deeper in the woods than you imagined anyone from the village had been. There was no path, only vague indents in the undergrowth through the thick trunks, so when you came to a small clearing with a hut, it looked out of place.

“Did you bring the others here?” you asked quietly, curious about your savior.

He kept his gaze focused on the hut, trudging through the leaves with a steady gait. “No,” he admitted after a few seconds. “But the others were not like you.”

“Like me?”

It was hard to tell if he was smiling or not when he didn’t give an answer. He carried you up the unmarked path to the front door of the small building, pushing it open and stooping to step inside. You looked around once he had set you down on the bed in the only room, realizing that he must live there alone.

Suddenly, he turned, twisting and grunting as the fur on his body disappeared, and his whole form began to shrink, though not by much. The man left standing there was just as broad as the beast had been, and he quickly grabbed a pair of pants hanging in the corner to pull on over his nudity before he gave you an indecent view.

“You’re a man,” you whispered in surprise, watching as he lit a lamp, filling the room with a dim light.

“Not quite,” he replied in a much less monstrous voice. Picking up a jug and a glass, he brought them to you, filling the glass with water once you’d taken it. You sipped it gratefully, not stopping until the glass was empty. “My name is James,” he said softly as he pulled a small basin close and poured water into it. “Though most people call me Bucky.”

You gave your name in return, watching as he snatched up a washcloth, dipping it in the water before taking hold of one of your damaged wrists. “What are you, if not a man?”

“Both man and wolf,” he muttered, cleaning the cuts left behind by the bindings. “I can choose to live in this form or the other. The other is stronger, but the man… the man is more rational.”

“You seemed plenty rational to me,” you observed cautiously. “At least, compared to those bastards in the village.”

He chuckled at your coarse language. “Yes,” he agreed. “I do not get involved, but I’m aware of what you were charged with. It was how I knew to come to the altar tonight.”

You’re surprised at that, realizing he must have visited your former home to know the charges brought against you. “You’ve been in the village?” He nodded, finishing with one wrist and moving to the other. “How have I never seen you?”

“I am very good at hiding myself,” he muttered, cleaning away the dried blood. You didn’t push any further questions on him, watching him work until he was done. “There is food and more water over there.” He gestures to the table. “I will not be gone long.”

The door closed softly as he departed, and you were left alone in the dim light from the lamp on the table. You shivered, looking around to find a blanket behind you, dragging it over your shoulders and huddling on the bed to try and get warm. Exhaustion pulled you down within minutes, and when Bucky returned near dawn, you were out cold.

You stirred when the smell of food aroused your hunger. Sitting up, you saw Bucky, dressed now, huddled over a fire and stirring a pot, bathed in sunlight from the only window in the hut. It smelled like oatmeal, and your stomach growled, reminding you of your last pitiful meal. “That smells good,” you whispered, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

Bucky gave you a sideways look, smiling. Now that you could see his face properly in decent light, you realized just how handsome he was, like some sort of fairytale knight come to life, if you disregarded the beast he could become. His hair was long and thick, dark strands tied loosely at the back, obviously to keep it out of his eyes. “I assumed you would be hungry,” he murmured, reaching for a bowl.

“What about you?” you asked as he filled the bowl.

“I already ate,” he replied, and you knew better than to ask what. Probably whatever he had used to fake your death at the altar. He handed the bowl to you, along with a spoon, and you hugged it close to yourself, inhaling the aroma as the heat warmed your hands. “I should have some clothing for you,” he muttered absently as his gaze dragged over you in a way that made your thighs almost as warm as your hands. He froze as his eyes landed on your exposed thigh and the birthmark there, and you moved the blanket to cover it, suddenly self-conscious of the stain.

“It’s just a birthmark,” you mumbled. “It’s always been there.”

He hummed, getting to his feet. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

You looked down at the oatmeal, stirring it for a second, and when you looked up again, the door was swinging shut, and Bucky was gone. A lead weight dropped into your stomach, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, not that you could think what. Was he offended by the mark on your skin? Did he believe what the villagers had called it?

When he didn’t come back, you sighed to yourself and began to eat, small mouthfuls at first, then larger ones when your hunger overrode your better manners. You resorted to licking the bowl clean when you were done, feeling relief for the first time in days. He still hadn’t returned by then, so you got to your feet, placing the bowl on the table before approaching the door, keeping the blanket wrapped around you as you exited the hut.

His retreat hadn’t taken him far. He was only a few meters from the door, digging in the dirt with his bare hands, and you realized he was pulling weeds out of a neat row of growing vegetables. You wandered closer, and he paused, glancing up at you before returning to his task.

“You live here all alone?” you asked curiously.

“No,” he replied gruffly, pulling another weed from the soil to toss it into a pile beside him. “This is only a watchpost. My real home is much deeper in the forest, where the rest of my people live.”

You didn’t know much about the world around your village. It was an insulated existence; your life required no travel when everything you needed was in one place, and merchants often passed through with new goods. Nathaniel had been to the city once or twice, but it was a long journey you had never felt the desire to make. “It must be lonely out here.”

“I like the quiet,” he shrugged, fishing out the last weed before brushing his hands off. He got to his feet, turning to face you. The wind picked up a little, and you shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. Bucky’s eyes widened and he grunted, moving towards you. “I forgot the clothes.”

Even though he didn’t request it of you, you followed him back inside, lingering by the door as he went to a chest in the corner behind the table, rifling through it. He pulled out a simple cotton shift, turning to thrust it at you.

“This will cover you better,” he instructed, and you took it meekly, moving towards the bed and shedding the blanket. He cleared his throat and turned away, tucking his chin into his chest. “The mark on your thigh -”

“It’s a birthmark,” you repeated, pulling your tattered dress over your head, “despite what the elders claimed.”

“It’s not a birthmark,” he said softly as you dragged the shift on, and his statement made you turn your head to him, tilting it in confusion.

“I’m decent.”

Huffing lightly, he turned, raking his eyes over you, and the hunger in them startled you. You drew back an inch or so, feeling the bed connect with your calves. He stared at you, twitching like he was trying to control himself.

“What is it, if not a birthmark?” you asked breathlessly. “It’s not actually a Devil’s mark, is it?” Werewolves were apparently real, as you’d obviously found out, so you didn’t see why other things wouldn’t be too at that point.

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “The mark of the crescent moon means that you are a wolf maiden.” You frowned at him, uncertain of the truth behind his words. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop as he moved a little close, speaking hesitantly. “It means… you are strong enough to be mated to a lycan, to carry his children.”

You pursed your lips, unable to stop the wry smile twisting them. “I’m not so sure about that,” you laughed dryly. “I’ve never been able to conceive.” Sadness weighed on you, and you let it take you down until you were sitting on the edge of the bed. “That’s why Nathaniel betrayed me, because I couldn’t give him children.”

A low rumble of amusement made you look up at him. “Only because he is human.” His voice lowered, humor turning to anger as he spoke of your husband. “Weak. His seed could not hope to take root in your womb. You weren’t meant for him.”

The words were roughly spoken, and the same warmth his ravenous looks had inspired returned tenfold, making you squirm on the thin mattress. Bucky loomed over you, breathing heavily, and you licked your lips, gripping the edge of the bed tightly as you posed your next question.

“Then… do you think I am meant for you?”

His eyes were almost glowing. “No,” he whispered. “I know you are.”

The breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding came out in a shudder, but he didn’t move, pinning you with his gaze. “H-how could you know that?” you asked, ignoring the instinct in your heart that agreed with him. “People don’t just know, it doesn’t - it doesn’t work like that.”

He laughed, breaking the spell as he looked away. “I’m not a person,” he reminded you gently, moving backwards to the table. You followed him with your eyes, trying to force your tense muscles to relax. Everything about him had you on edge, in a good way, which was somehow more terrifying than if he frightened the hell out of you. “I do not expect anything of you, Y/N,” he murmured, keeping his back to you, “but do not expect me to conceal my desire for you. I knew the moment I scented your blood that you were mine. Perhaps that was why I knew to come.”

“I’m still technically married,” you said, as if your vows meant anything to you with the betrayal from your spouse.

Another low peal of amusement; his shoulders shook with his mirth. He turned to smile at you, one eyebrow lifting above the other. “Do you really think such a human bond as marriage means anything to something like me?”

“I guess not,” you answered prudishly, folding your hands in your lap.

He watched you for a moment as you stared at the floor. You didn’t say a word, worried you’d insulted him in some way, and when he moved, you flinched out of habit, a reaction that made him freeze. “You are safe here,” he murmured with a sigh, moving towards the door. “I will be back after dark. Do not go past the trees.”

The door closed behind him. You looked up, biting your lip as you mulled over his instruction. When you got up and went to the door, you opened it to an empty garden; he had disappeared. You closed the door again, scanning the hut for anything to occupy yourself, spotting a small pile of books by the chest. Moving to inspect them closer, you realized they were fiction, and seized upon them with glee.

Books had always been a comfort, somewhere to escape the brutish hand of your husband and his family. You had read everything the village offered three times over, so the unfamiliar stories you had found were enthralling, easily passing the time while Bucky was gone. When your stomach rumbled, you ate some more oatmeal from the still warm pot, finding fresh logs stacked outside to refresh the flames when they dimmed. By the time night fell, the fire was the only light, but there was plenty to read by.

Eventually, you grew tired again, deciding to let the fire die as you curled underneath the blanket on the bed, wondering if your host would return before you dozed off. He hadn’t, though you thought you heard howls outside as your eyes fluttered shut.

When you woke, you were much warmer, and you quickly realized it was because you were laying against something very warm and very furry. Bucky had returned at some point and now lay next to you, still the wolf, offering the comfort you couldn’t find in the thin blanket. You remained still, comfortable in his loose hold, uncertain whether you should have been upset at his presence or questioning the undeniable feeling that you belonged there.

After a few minutes, you felt the beginning of a more desperate need. You wriggled carefully out of his hold, sliding off of the bed onto bare feet. As you stood, Bucky shifted onto his front, and the monstrous bipedal wolf became a man again, bare-assed on the bed. Your face heated up, and you grabbed the blanket, tossing it over his behind in an attempt to silence your lustful thoughts.

The woods outside were silent, lit pink with the growing dawn. You found a spot to relieve your need, then wandered over to the other side of the hut, staring through the trees in the direction you thought the village was based on where the sun was rising.

Would there be any kind of funeral for you? Did anyone miss you? You hadn’t had what anyone would describe as friends, despite living there your whole life. Other women had spurned you for your love of reading, of knowledge, and of course, your other perceived feminine failures.

And what were you to do now? You couldn’t go home. You knew nothing of the world beyond books and what others had told you. The thought made you feel helpless, more than you’d ever felt before, and the tears begin falling before you recognize them.

The sun rose higher, and you sat in the grass, arms wrapped around your knees as you stared into the forest, tears leaving tracks on your cheeks. You heard the hut door open but didn’t turn, not even when Bucky approached from behind and sat down beside you. He was silent, though he let his shoulder brush against you in an offer of comfort.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you admitted softly, fresh tears trickling down the paths previous ones had made. “My whole life I’ve been told what to do, and I did it, for the most part. But I’ve never been anywhere. Nowhere real.”

He listened, giving you a few seconds before he spoke. “What does your heart tell you?”

You sniffed, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I should be heartbroken, not just by Nathaniel’s betrayal but by… by everyone's!” Your voice rose with your frustration. “Yet I don’t. I feel… I feel…” Words became an irritated noise and you threw your hands up. “You confuse me,” you finally said quietly, glaring at him.

His low chuckle infuriated you more. “I have already told you what I feel,” he shrugged. “My choice is simple. But your choice is not mine to make.”

“You’re not helping this be less confusing,” you grumbled, elbowing him as he laughed again. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiled at you, an affectionate expression that shouldn’t have warmed your insides like it did. “Because we know,” he whispered. “Every wolf knows when they have found their mate.” The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. “I had begun to believe that I would never find mine. It’s why I came here, away from my people, because I did not believe my mate was there.” His smile grew. “Apparently, I was right.”

“So you want me to stay,” you deduced, and he nodded. “What if I decide not to?”

His smile faded. “Then I will remain here,” he murmured, finally looking away. “And hope that you would one day return to me.”

The sudden sadness in his tone made your heart ache. You didn’t say another word, but you leaned into him, and he accepted the small token, both of you sitting in peaceful companionship. Clouds began to gather in the sky, and leaves danced on the ground with the breeze, gathering underneath the trees when they were blown too far. Eventually, there were enough clouds to threaten rain, and Bucky got to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You didn’t let go once you were standing, giving him a tiny smile when he looked at your joined fingers.

It began to rain not long after you had gone inside, and he immediately started to prepare a meal. Putting all of the weirdness to one side, you struck up conversation, trying to get to know him just a little before allowing yourself to admit there was more than simple attraction between you. He answered most of your questions, telling you about his home and his family, his friends, asking you questions in return, and you began to feel like his life was idyllic compared to yours when your answers were much shorter and less enthused. In truth, your father had only kept you around long enough to marry you off to the first man who proposed a large enough dowry, and then both of your parents had succumbed to the bitter winters several years before. You had only Nathaniel’s family, who treated you with disdain at best, and as an indentured servant at worst.

When the rain didn’t ease up by nightfall, Bucky decided not to hunt that night, joining you when you retired to the bed with a book. You didn’t protest when he curled in behind you, offering further warmth that you happily accepted. The book grew too heavy for your tired limbs not long after, and you hovered between awake and asleep, barely catching his murmured words against your hair as the latter became stronger.

“You’re mine.”

You awoke with his arm around your waist, and something poking into the small of your back. The sleepiness faded as you realized what it was, and warmth filled you from head to toe. He was out cold, and didn’t react when you peeled his arm off and slipped outside into the morning light. Your thoughts were already racing, mulling over your situation with no clear answer to any of it. Bucky seemed so sure of something you didn’t feel you could possibly understand, and if you were honest, while you had devoured romance tales with a fierce desire to feel something like it, the real thing terrified you. In less than two days, you felt more of a connection to this stranger than you had to anyone in your entire life.

Needing to clear your head, you began to walk along the treeline, pausing when you heard the rush of water through the trees. There was a worn path through the bushes, so you followed it, putting the hut behind you as you searched for wherever the sound of water was coming from.

It was only a stream, maybe the width of a person laying across it, maybe deep enough to submerge your ankles. You moved closer, dipping a toe in, and the deliciously cool, fresh water enticed you further, until you were standing in the middle, enjoying the clean feeling. Letting your arms hang free, you tilted your head back, wondering if it would be uncouth to undress and bathe right there.

You hadn’t been able to wash yourself in nearly a week, so you took the opportunity, removing your dress and tossing it onto a nearby rock away from the water. Crouching down, you cupped your hands, washing as thoroughly as you could, lamenting the lack of soap. Still, it was better than nothing, and the sun was rising high enough to bathe your skin in late summer warmth, helping you dry off.

A low growl from the trees made you turn, spotting Bucky lurking in his wolf form, breathing heavily as he watched you bathe. You rushed for your dress, pulling it on as he prowled closer, scenting the air around you. “I told you not to go beyond the trees,” he snarled, baring sharp fangs.

Your indignation at being held there overrode everything else. “You cannot keep me here against my will,” you snapped, attempting to storm off away from him, but he was faster, blocking your escape.

“And where will you go?” he replied with a curl to his upper lip. “Back to the village so that they may hang you?”

“Maybe I should go and warn them that there is an actual beast,” you shot back. He lunged, and you squealed as he hauled you close. “Let go of me!” you shrieked, pounding your fist against his shoulder only for him to laugh mockingly. “I do not belong to you!”

His grip loosened and you slipped free, landing on the ground with a thud. “Then go,” he said wearily, turning his back. “See how far you get.”

Your steps were hesitant when you rose, and you half expected him to follow you. After walking a few paces, you broke into a run, wincing when your bare feet caught on the uneven ground, and you were certain he wouldn’t let you get far, even if when you glanced behind, there was no sign of him. You kept going, unable to believe he had just allowed you to run; maybe he believed you would only get lost, that it would teach you a lesson, and the further you got, the more you thought that getting lost was the least of your worries.

Coming to a stop, you looked around, wondering how far from the village you actually were. You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back there - actually, you were certain you didn't - but at the same time, you were terrified of whatever otherworldly magic was taking hold of you when you were with Bucky. It was too easy to be with him, to give in, and you needed to know it was your own heart, your own soul making you feel this way and not something else.

You had been walking unsteadily for hours, stopping every so often to try and find something familiar to follow. There was no sign of a road, no sign of anything, and when it began to rain softly, you started to feel a little hopeful that Bucky might have followed you after all. If he had, he didn’t show himself, so you continued on, slowly growing wetter and more exhausted.

The bushes suddenly rustled, and something jumped out, making you scream in surprise. It was only a deer, wide-eyed and instantly sprinting away from whatever had spooked it. You spun when you heard a voice, dismay making your heart sink when you realized it was a familiar one.

You must have been closer to the village than you knew. There was no time to hide before they came rushing through the bushes, chasing after the deer they had missed. Both of them froze when they saw you, and your husband’s eyes widened in shock. He whispered your name as his brother scowled at you, and you remained motionless, eyes dropping to the weapons they were carrying.

“You’re alive?” Nathaniel sounded bewildered. “But… the elders.”

“She escaped,” Simon scoffed, pulling a knife free from its sheath. “Little witch bitch probably killed a rabbit for all that blood.”

You backed up, tripping on a root. The men moved closer as you hit the ground, looming over you. “You should be dead,” your husband ground out.

“Everyone thinks she is,” Simon chuckled, crouching down to press the tip of his knife to your chin, and you swallowed hard, wishing you hadn’t tried to escape the safe haven you’d been in. “I say we take what she owes us. Or me. Never did get to feel that sweet little cunny you always talked about.”

Revulsion propelled your hand, knocking the knife out of his grasp. “Get the hell away from me,” you yelped, attempting to scrabble away from them, but they were larger, stronger. Nathaniel grabbed hold of you, wrapping an arm around your neck as you struggled against him.

“Now, now, my pretty little wife,” he cooed in your ear. Simon approached from in front of you, rubbing the crotch of his pants lewdly. “You’ll do at least one thing right before you die.”

You weren’t about to let it happen, striking out with your foot, managing to catch Simon right in the balls. He went down, clutching at his groin, moaning as Nathaniel shoved you onto the floor, pulling out his knife. “Fucking kill her!” Simon wailed, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to stand, and though you felt a deep satisfaction at wounding his pride, you were more concerned about the sharp knife your husband was approaching with.

“I’ll just slit your throat,” he growled. “You won’t be a problem anymore.”

He reached down but his fingers never made contact. Something large and black flew over your head, and as lightning cracked the sky from one side to the other, you saw Bucky tearing your husband apart. Simon screamed for his brother, only to draw the wolf’s attention to him; later, you’d mull over how the sight of two grown men being shredded should have been more upsetting to you, but in the moment, you were more concerned with the huge werewolf now stalking you. The rain got heavier, and blood ran off of his fur as he moved, coming closer to you as you watched, rooted to the spot.

Nathaniel’s blade was in his shoulder. You took a step towards him, reaching for it, and he flinched away at first, relaxing when you pressed a hand to his fur, using the other to pull the knife free and toss it away. He didn’t make a sound, and the wound closed in front of your eyes. A clawed hand cradled your face, and you leaned into him, relieved he’d come for you after all.

“You’re mine,” he growled low in his throat, sounding more like the animal than the man. His other hand curled around your hip, clawed thumb inadvertently tearing through the fabric of your dress. “I can’t let you go.”

You gasped as his long rough fingers pressed between your thighs. “Bucky -”

In all the time you’d seen him in that form, you hadn’t really thought of him as naked, even if he had been when he changed back to human. Now, his arousal was evident as his thick red cock emerged from its sheath, poking insistently into your belly. You had never considered the possibility that he might take you like this, if it would even work, but now, the thought wouldn’t stop, building into a desire that had you panting in his hold.

Your back hit the ground when he pushed you down, shredding the material that covered your wet skin. His muzzle nudged between your legs, long tongue rolling out to drag over your cunt, and you whimpered, reaching down to slide your finger through the thick fur near his pointed canine ears. He grunted when you grasped at them, nuzzling closer to you as his eyes closed, flicking his tongue against your entrance before sinking it inside.

His clawed hands pushed your knees up and apart, and he delved deeper, filling you with his tongue over and over. You almost couldn’t breathe, gasping as he feasted on you. The sounds he made were obscene, showcasing his obvious enjoyment of the task, tightening his grip on you when you began to squirm, frightened of the intense pressure he was creating. It grew stronger and you felt tears in your eyes as it seemed to explode inside you with a gush of warmth that he lapped up eagerly, slowly releasing you as you covered your face and sobbed.

Bucky stopped, lifting his head, crawling over your body until his nose could nudge at your hands, coaxing them away from your face. “Did I hurt you?” he asked in a rough voice edged with concern.

“No!” you cried, fixing wide eyes on him. “No, I -” Embarrassment made you want to cover your face again, and you looked away, guilty at your own inexperience. “I’ve never felt anything like that,” you whispered, shame making your eyes fill again. “No one’s ever -”

He chuckled, nuzzling into your face. You lifted your hands to frame his snout. “I will never leave you unsatisfied, my beloved,” he murmured, drawing your legs around his waist. “And I would never hesitate to taste you like that.”

Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his cock pressing against your bare slit. The anticipation made you quiver underneath him, though you didn’t voice your concern over his size, wondering how he could possibly fit. He sensed your apprehension, humming deeply as he grazed your shoulder with his fangs.

“Do not fret,” he soothed. “I will not hurt you.”

You clung to his thick fur, nodding as the tip breached your aching channel. He was warm, almost radiating heat, and though you expected pain from the penetration, there was none, only a heady rush of arousal as his thick cock split you open. Each inch filled you with a delicious thrill, and by the time he was seated deep inside, you were already back on the edge of the same pleasure he’d inspired before.

His breathing changed, becoming hard pants against your shoulder as he held steady and deep within you. You squeezed your eyes closed when his sharp teeth grazed your skin again, clenching around him, and he growled at the sensation, jutting his hips forward a little more. The movement made you aware of something unusual; the base of his cock was thicker, almost swollen, and when he pushed a little more, you realized it was a knot.

He started to move without warning, lifting his head to fix his blue eyes on you just as you fell apart at the drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive walls. You cried out, twisting your fingers in his fur, tormented by the unbearable ecstasy running through you.

“I - I can’t - it’s too - too much!”

With a low growl, Bucky dipped his head, tearing through the remnants of the dress covering your chest. His tongue circled around one nipple, teasing it to hardness, and your eyes rolled back, body twitching as euphoria picked you apart into a million pieces. You couldn’t think or speak, couldn’t manage more than a whimper as he took you and laid claim to every part of you.

An abrupt withdrawal allowed you to find some sort of control over your limbs, but you only had time to lift your head before he flipped you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up into a lewd position that exposed you to his hungry gaze. His claws dug into your skin, breaking through in places, leaving tiny smears of blood as he manhandled you, and it was only the damp moss that stopped your knees scraping against the rock. With one stroke, he entered you again, and this time you screamed, feeling him at a new depth and angle that made your eyes cross.

He howled as he filled you, launching into a punishing rhythm that sent you spiraling. The craving for him grew stronger than the fear of your body’s response to the overstimulation, and soon you were pushing back against his thrusts, seeking more of what he offered. Your cries echoed in the trees around you; you barely noticed that it had stopped raining.

The base of his cock began to swell, pressing more insistently against your bruised opening. You mewled, digging your fingers into the ground, suddenly desperate to feel it, but Bucky didn’t stop, keeping his pace steady until the desperate and high-pitched ‘please’ fell from your lips. He snarled and took hold of your shoulder, pulling your whole body down hard. The thick knot slipped inside and locked him there, and your wish was granted; he came with a throaty roar before his teeth sank into your shoulder, permanently branding you. It only hurt for a second, and then you came with him, drunk on the feeling of his spend filling your belly.

You went nearly limp in his hold, panting heavily. He dragged his tongue over the mark he’d left on your shoulder, cleaning it as he waited for his body to calm, allowing him to withdraw his knot from the grip of your cunt. In the few minutes you were locked together, you bathed in his touch, feeling nothing but the delicious buzz of your connection and the lingering echoes of the pleasure he’d given you. You weren’t sure how long it was before he could finally withdraw, and when he finally did, there was a brief moment of loss and cold, making you shiver.

He didn’t go far. Sliding his arms underneath your body, he cradled you against his chest, beginning the walk back to the hut, leaving the two bodies behind for someone else to find.

A further warning for the people who had been so unkind to you to keep away from where they did not belong.

“Tomorrow, we will leave,” he said as he carried you through the trees. You smiled, burrowing your face into his warm, if a little damp, fur. “Another will take my place here.”

“We’ll go to your village?” you asked sleepily, and he nodded, humming a confirmation. With one hand pressed against his chest, you let your eyes fall shut without saying anything else, without need to say anything. He kept walking, holding you close, secure against his body, the steady beat of his footsteps lulling you into a doze.

When he reached the hut, he carried you inside before shifting to his human form, slipping behind you on the bed to hold you close. You weren’t quite asleep, turning to face him and looking up as he smiled down at you. “I did not mean to be so… rough,” he whispered, running his finger over the wound on your shoulder.

“I wasn’t complaining at the time,” you reminded him, catching his hand with your own. “I’ve never felt that way before.”

His smile softened, and he leaned in to kiss you properly, dragging it out until you pulled back to gasp for breath. “Do not think I have had my fill of you,” he warned quietly, tugging you as close as he could get you. “But you should sleep. The journey home is long.”

You didn’t argue when your eyes were already drooping shut, despite the renewed throb of need in your core. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, almost sheltering you with his body, making you feel safer and more loved than you ever had before. It didn’t matter how this had come to be, only that it had, and nothing would change it. You belonged to man and beast alike.

And he belonged to you.

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

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