#holding on to anger and resentment feels good but it will ultimately hurt you in the end

[ionlytalktodogs]

Lately I’ve been thinking about kindness and how hard it is sometimes.

It’s hard to remember the person on the other side of the screen is a human being, yes, because we are separated by the internet. But it’s hard in real life too. It’s hard to look into the eyes of someone who has hurt me and say, “I forgive you.”

But it helps. Even if it doesn’t help them. Forgive and forget is not always the best way but sometimes it is. Sometimes you can let anger go, even if it’s hard.

Kindness is hard but it’s healthy. Healthy for YOU, mind and body.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you please do a part two of the Sebastian fluff where he lets his thoughts get the best of him and gets anxious that reader now sees him as a monster because of what they read on his document so he prepares extra good items and plans to give them heavy discounts and even some free but reader barges in like

"MANTIS SHRIMP??? PUNCH SOMETHING RIGHT NOW"

And after a bit of reassuring(possibly some punching too bc reader is too starry-eyed for him to say no to em) Seb realizes he trully never had anything to worry about and just, generally grows fonder of reader?

Ps. Adore your writing, keep up the awesome work!!

"God, why did I let them take it? Stupid, stupid, stupid.."

Sebastian couldn't stop beating himself up, even though he knew he shouldn't care about the opinion of any human sent by Urbanshade--especially one of the "expendable" class.

Yet because it was you, specifically--who was currently in possession of his document--he began to wonder what you'd think of him once you found out the truth:

That he was nothing but a horrible monster. Plain and simple.

If not the knowledge that he was a hideous chimera of several sea creatures' DNA...then surely the revelation that he caused the lockdown of the Blacksite would ultimately make you resent him.

He released all those creatures, who stopped at nothing to prevent you from reaching the crystal and had you running, fighting, or hiding for your life.

He was responsible for all the injuries you've sustained while crawling into his shop, desperately needing a medkit and a place to rest.

He would understand if you'd never want to visit him again after what they documented about him..but the image of your furious expression and overthinking the words you'd possibly say to him left him feeling incredibly anxious.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself gathering more supplies. Medkits, code breakers, and every light source he had currently in the shop, trying to market down whatever he could. He was even willing to let you take batteries for free...which was something he'd never normally do.

Would it be enough to make up for everything horrific you discovered about him and the terrors he indirectly put you through? Absolutely not.

Was he willing to try it anyways just for the small chance that you'd keep visiting him? Maybe.

No other human has shown him a single ounce of kindness or gratitude for his services. Nobody except you, of course, and he refused to lose that.

-thump, thump-

"Shit.." He froze, hearing movement in the vent duct, hands trembling for his light to shine brighter. Part of him wishes he could stay in the dark, as he didn't wanna see your face and whatever hurt expression it could possibly hold.

But he knew it'd be rude if you actually needed to buy something, so he forced himself to look as your familiar figure crawled out of the small opening. You seemed out of breath, like you were just running from something, and stood up to dust the dirt off your pants.

"Sebastian..I need to know something, and you need to be 100% honest with me."

The moment you pulled out his document, the shopkeeper could feel his heart sink.

"Wh..What did you want to know?" He asked, already bracing himself for the worst.

You sounded dead serious, and he was convinced you were finally going to let him have it.

You were going to force him to explain himself and his actions, and tell him what a monster he truly was. Literally and metaphoric-

"Its it true that you have mantis shrimp DNA????"

Silence.

Of all the possible outbursts he expected from you, that certainly didn't cross his mind.

Sebastian just stared down at you, utterly dumbfounded. He blinked several times, unsure if he was truly seeing the wide smile and starry-eyed look on your face.

He had been waiting for a deep scowl, eyes full of anger and betrayal and sadness that he wasn't the "friend" he claimed himself to be when you first visited his shop.

Yet now? He saw nothing but pure delight in your expression.

"Um..yes. But of alllll the things you read about me, that shocked you the most?" He was still treading carefully.

"Well, it sucks that you were an innocent guy who got thrown into a shitty situation." You gestured to him, frowning a little. "And I'm sorry you never saw justice, but...it's just SO cool that you're part mantis shrimp!" A grin returned to your face. "They've fascinated me for years! I used to watch videos of them all the time. Did you know the velocity of just one of their punches is equal to a .22 caliber bullet-?"

"Stop." He put a hand up, huffing. "At least some part of you must resent me. I mean...helloooooo, did you skip over the bit where I'M the reason those monsters are after you?! There's no way you could've ignored that..unless your brain turned off the moment you read "mantis shrimp"."

"I read everything, Sebastian." You huffed back. "Look, if I ever had to go through what you did..I think I'd wanna rebel, too. And as much as those monsters scare me, they've probably endured the same experiments as you. They probably felt just as trapped and afraid. You must see at least a few of them as your friends, right?"

"Eyefestation and the PAInter are the only ones I consider "acquaintances"." He answered after a long pause, shoulders slumped. "The anglers are primitive, but they recognize me as the one who freed them, so they don't bother me or my shop. The only creature that tends to be an issue is-"

-thump-

-thump-

Tensing, you looked over your shoulder to see a Wall Dweller emerge from the vent behind you, its mouth split open and drooling with hunger, standing on two legs.

"-that." Sebastian glared at the creature; and before it could run away, he blocked the entrance with his tail fin. "Oh no you don't." He swooped over to grab ahold of its head with his third hand, causing it to shriek and kick its legs as he held it up high. "You seriously need to stop eating my customers when they're trying to BUY SOMETHING!!"

The Dweller just growled at him, to which he ignored it and glanced down at you. "What should I do with this thing?"

"Punch it!" You grinned, your fists balled up in front of you as you hopped up and down. "I wanna see how fast you could throw one!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Pleeeeaaase?"

"..ugh, if it gets that stupid puppy-eyed look off your face, fine." He looked back at the Dweller, grinning widely as he cracked his knuckles. "You wanna eat something so bad? Try this."

"....grahh-?"

In a blinding flash, his fist went through the creature's skull, effectively turning its head into dust. Then he dropped the whole body onto the ground with a grimance. "Eugh..never done that before.."

Then he looked down at you again, seeing your smile brighten. "Hope that made you happy."

"It did, that was amazing!" You laughed, kneeling down to rip off a chunk of the Dweller's flesh. He eyed you strangely, his expression changing to a look of horror as you shoved a piece in your mouth.

"What the f...why would you eat that?!"

"It's okay! I've had this stuff before." You swallowed, feeling rejuvenated already.

"B....Before?! What you're eating is clay and acid-"

"Actually, it's fresh meat. Reminds me of poultry, almost. I found a document somewhere saying that it has regenerative properties." You explained to Sebastian, whose eyes only widened the more you talked. "I didn't believe it at first until I saw the Angler kill one. I was hungry and...eating it healed my electrical burn somehow."

".......why was that not in its actual document?" He muttered.

You shrugged, ripping out another piece and offering it to him. "Care for a bite?"

"I'll..pass. But thanks." Lowering his body closer to you, he frowned. "Are you absolutely sure that-?"

"I'm sure."

"..you didn't even know what I was going to-"

"You were worried about my reaction to your file. I could tell from the discount signs and how you were scared to even look at me."

"............."

"But I promise it doesn't change anything, okay? We're still friends, Sebastian, and I'll still swing by to do business with you." You reassured him, smiling as you patted the back of his hand, before noticing the bandage on his third arm seemed bloody. "Um..when's the last time you changed that?"

"...oh this? Erm..it's fine." He attempted to hide it behind his back. "Nothing you should be concerned abou-"

"Too late. It's my concern now. Let me repay you for saving my tail."

He had no time to protest, as you were already on your feet and running for the medkit that was on the table. You weren't worried about getting to the next zone right now.

Not that Sebastian planned on kicking you out anytime soon.

No.

Now that he was able to confide in you, he was genuinely beginning to enjoy your company--especially as you asked him to rest his arm across your lap. From there, your gentle hands went to work changing the bandage out for a fresh one, using an alcohol spray to keep the wounds from getting infected.

He hissed and cursed a few times at the stinging pain, but not once did he try to get you to stop.

Suddenly, it all began to hit him in this exact moment.

You were willingly playing nurse to a giant sea monster that has killed a man and was responsible for the terrifying things you had to witness down here.

He couldn't understand..but at the same time he felt relieved that all along he had nothing to worry about.

"Th-That's fine..thank you.."

Hearing a sniffle, you glanced up as Sebastian hastily took his arm away, "standing" back up and turning away from you. You just smiled and patted his tail comfortingly, not saying a word as you waited for him to collect himself.

For once, that snarky and sarcastic fish you've come to know was gone, and he was letting his walls down, finally realizing he could trust you.

Eventually he fell silent, and you wondered what to do now. You bought everything you wanted to earlier, so you didn't wanna overstay your welcome-

"Do you mind staying for a little bit longer?"

The question surprised you, but you smiled and nodded. "Sure. As long as you don't mind, shrimpy."

There was a pause, and he slowly looked back at you, pouting. "Big talk coming from someone as tiny as you, friend." He playfully sneered.

You just laughed and shook your head, glad to see him in better spirits.

Thanks to that scrambler on his back, you didn't have to worry about HQ getting on your ass about continuing the mission or threatening detonation.

You could definitely stay awhile and ramble about more mantis shrimp facts to Sebastian...if he was willing to hear them, of course.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Tw: Parent trauma stuff, a vent post because damn my mommy and daddy issues are flaring up during my exams

Yves will talk to your parents for you.

As much as he wants to have you solely rely on him for your emotional, physical, and spiritual needs, he isn't selfish enough to deprive you of the experience of having a healthy and loving relationship with your family. Or at least, have a successful reconciliation with them and move on from the hurt.

He knows that people with good bonds between their initial caregivers would go on to live longer, happier, and have an overall peaceful mind; something that Yves wants you to receive. And it's something he could afford for you, why wouldn't he let the love of his life have something wonderful like this?

Yves already knew your history, the fights, the tears, the anger you held for your parents, and their refusal to admit their wrongs. But he wants you to confide in him organically, he doesn't want to force such a change in you. So he waited, stayed by your side, and observed, allowing you to slowly warm up to the idea of using him as a diary.

He would listen with no judgment, engulf you in a cushion of comfort and solace as you cry in anguish over the painful feelings you harbored for your parents. Yves would stay silent, cuddling you if that is what you needed and pressing soft kisses on your head whenever you're overwhelmed with your emotions. Only when you've calmed down, will he gently pry.

He has to dig through layers of resentment and agony, ignoring the red herrings and false wants. No, you do not truly want your parents to die a horrific death for what they did or didn't do for you, that's not your ultimate desire; try again. It doesn't matter how difficult it gets, Yves already knew the answer but you don't. He's trying to get you to realize what you actually need.

And you just wanted to feel loved, heard, seen, and protected for once by the adults who were supposed to teach you how the world works. You don't even give a damn if they gave you a sincere apology or not, all you needed was their acknowledgment that they were imperfect, you wanted their willingness to change, and them to be there for you while there is still time left. You wanted them to look at the mirror and see all the ugly parts they've been pretending not to notice, just like how they've been holding up a mirror against you all your life and nitpicking on all your flaws no matter how inconsequential.

You wanted to move on. Not alone, but with them. But they're stuck in the past, prickly and resistant to improvement. And it appeared to be a herculean task for you to do alone, an impossible mission, even.

Yves will absorb all of it with a sympathetic gaze, stroking your hair as you lay against him, completely drained of energy yet free from the burden plaguing you for years. Perhaps even decades. He will thank you for exploring this topic with him, it has taken a toll on you. But to heal, is to feel.

He will review all the information he has gathered on you, your family, and their dynamic, past and present. He will assess if this bond is salvageable or mangled beyond repair; Yves isn't going to blindly play family counselor, he knows there are just some relationships that aren't worth saving or not feasible to exist. If it's the latter, he will focus more on enriching your life to dull the pain of the past; it will no doubt always be there, but it will shrink with the joy he nourishes you with. At the same time, Yves would be cursing your family with a taste of his wrath, making the option of death appear to be a more merciful one. You wouldn't know what he did, but all you needed to know is that they're absolutely out of your life.

However, if the relationship is still viable, just severely damaged, Yves would do anything in his power to mend it. Just like how he would sew up holes in your clothes or fix any of your items that are broken with his excellent craftmanship, he would execute a plan to rebuild the bridge they charred.

They still cared for you, but they chose the wrong way to show it. Or they had their own demons to deal with which unfortunately roped you into a hell that you shouldn't have been in. Or that's just how they were taught by their own caregivers and they didn't know anything outside of it. As long as there is that weak pulse of genuine parental care and love for you, Yves will do anything to resuscitate it.

With his vast wealth, he could easily eradicate issues stemming from financial pressure. With his near infinite contacts, your parents have no problem getting the means to survive another day with their disease- they could even receive a cure for it. With his influence, their perpetrators could finally be brought to justice. With his shrewdness, Yves would orchestrate occurrences daily to teach them valuable lessons and correct their viewpoints. He would only make himself known if it's necessary, otherwise, your parents may think they're on a lucky streak or finally maturing as adults. Or if they're superstitious, a sign from a higher power to reach out to you and talk.

However, Yves wouldn't let them open the conversation with you just yet. They have to prove themselves, that they could pass his discrete battery of tests. Even if they did well, Yves would enact one last checkpoint: he would personally pay them a visit and talk.

The atmosphere must be calm, but not too lax to the point your parents feel comfortable disrespecting Yves. It has to be polite, warm, and cordial, but not too much lest they fail to subconsciously perceive what a threat Yves could be. There must be discipline, on both sides, no exceptions.

Yves have already taken their hunger, thirst, and sleep levels into consideration. The temperature, the smells, the humidity, the lighting, and the hormones present in their bloodstream on that day as the smallest variable could throw his entire plan off. As a failsafe, he would prepare cups of their favorite hot beverages and tea-time snacks laced with drugs that would allow him to control the situation better. It will have no adverse effects on their health, it will only serve to influence their mind however Yves sees fit. But he really didn't have to go this far, they trusted him to the fullest as Yves always had their best interest in mind. They're quite fond of him too, so it would be a difficult feat to shake him off their good graces.

It started off with a light-hearted conversation about general topics, just to ease your parents further and to fully prime them for the transition to heavier ones. Some discomfort was expected, maybe they tried to change the subject or divert his attention to something else, but Yves is unwavering. He would be gentle, yet firm. Using his body language and even minuscule actions such as picking his cup up without drinking from it to manipulate the situation. Implicitly reminding them who is in charge of the entire scene. It's almost like a spell, they couldn't bring themselves to leave even if they had a history of running away at the first sign of discomfort.

Yves will hear what they have to say. It's nothing he hasn't heard or seen before, this is only to give the illusion of a fair playing field. But his intention was never to take anyone's side, but to give you what you wanted out of your parents.

Once they're done, Yves would take a sip out of his tea. He would then lay out your deepest feelings toward them, the rage, the sorrow, the push, and the pull. Perhaps they were neglectful without intending to, money was tight and they had to put food on the table. Maybe they went through worse and resented you for having a better childhood than they did. They dismissed your hardships as something trivial, and sent a message that you just weren't that important.

You felt like you were never good enough under their outrageous expectations, you felt like their love was conditional and your worth was tied to what you could do for them. You felt betrayed because they broke your trust by telling your relatives your secrets, you felt like they only had you because everyone else was having babies and they succumbed to peer pressure. You felt discarded when they both divorced, or they remarried and had children outside. You felt less important than their booze bottle. Your views don't matter, only the opinions of others do. You were forced to be another parent for your siblings: children you never asked for. You felt unloved, you felt unwanted, you felt abandoned.

He made sure to speak in a language, pace, and tone they understood. It will be absolutely direct, with no room for misunderstandings and Yves would be happy to clear up anything over and over again.

It's difficult. It's frustrating but achievable. He has to keep a poker face as they try to deflect, defend, and twist. And for each attempt for them to escape these strong revelations, Yves would have something to counter it and ground them back to Earth. No one can leave until Yves thinks the outcome is satisfactory. Let the room flood with tears, let their voice go hoarse from yelling, it doesn't matter to Yves, he has his eyes constantly on the prize.

Eventually, he gets what he wants out of this meeting. Your parents would be as exhausted as you when you first vented to Yves about your relationships. They're finally accepting that they're also human with the most hideous of faults. And also accepting that they have the capacity to change for the better before it's too late.

They passed. His final test, they passed.

He would end the discussion, scheduling another meeting but with you this time. The dates he chose are very strategic, as a confrontation too soon or too late will render their 'training' ineffective.

Yves wouldn't be in the room, at least not visibly. He still has eyes and ears to watch over you, but his conceivable presence will affect the process. It has to happen without his obvious coaching, but Yves has the ultimate control.

You will be tense and they will be on edge, so he ensured that both sides are sufficiently groomed (with or without knowledge) before commencing.

It could take anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks for you and your parents to get on the same page, going through most, if not, all five stages of grief. It is a death of the past, and the birth of the present, after all.

His green eyes will be staring at the screen intensely, having his ears carefully listening to every single detail. Yves would be working tirelessly to puppet the stage, nothing is done unintentionally; not even that one green leaf that blew past the mildly smudged window. Everything happens for a reason, and that reason was Yves's puppetry.

In the end, he would succeed. You and your parents would break down crying, holding each other and promising to do better while they could still feel what it's like to breathe. Due to the tremendous emotional toll it has on each other, Yves expected that you will experience aches on your body. You would receive nightly massages from him.

Slowly but surely, things will change. Yves encourages you to call them as much as you can, likewise, he would encourage them to contact you too. Dinners, lunch, and brunch with everyone would be frequent. You would have the family that you deserved, but never gotten.

And Yves would smile, joining in pictures and conversations between you and your parents. Enjoying the quality time he gets to spend with you.

Your father would sling an arm around his shoulder, while he gracefully crouches down to his level. Your mother would grin and have her hand holding you by your arm as the entire family looks into the camera lens.

Yves is also happy to receive the blessing to experience the domesticity of a nurturing family he never had.

[theclementinediaries]

The Seven Deadly Sins of the NXX Team

➵ PRIDE best describes Artem, for he takes great pride in everything he does, especially when it comes to work. He would go above and beyond, and would go to great lengths, to ensure that he is always on top of his game. His work is his pride, and his pride is his work, his entire sense of self-worth relies heavily on how well he manages to do his job right.

➵ He has a reputation of having a 99% win rate, so you could imagine how much his pride suffered when he lost in that 1% case. He felt like a failure, like everything that he has worked up to until that point, all of his achievements and success, meant nothing. And for someone, who puts so much value in his career, his success, whose pride mainly stems from his achievements and winning, that really put a dent on not just his pride, but his self worth in general.

➵ Who is he, if not a winner? Who is he, if not the best of the best? Who is he, if he can’t succeed? Would there be any point for his existence if he can’t succeeded, if he can’t become the greatest?

➵ Ultimately, Artem’s pride is his biggest motivator to do better, to be better, but it’s also what eats him up inside, it’s what pushes him over the edge, to the point that it’s hurting him.

➵ Green is the color of ENVY, and that perfectly describes Vyn to a T. Don't get him wrong though, he is not envious of someone having more money, fame, status, or materialistic items than him, far from it actually. Vyn's envy is rooted in seeing people, who have a more full filing happier life than him, especially if they are less fortunate than him.

➵ Of course, as a psychologist expert, he bares no ill well towards people who have it better than him, and on the contrary, he should be happy for those people given his profession. But yet no matter how much he tries not to, he can't help but feel envious of those people, like he resented them for having a life that he fought so hard to obtain, yet it came so natural to them.

➵ His jealousy and envy is one of the reasons why he's so meticulous with his words, never letting anyone ever get too close, for fear that he might uncover something, that he might not like.

➵ For someone who is so happy go-lucky, WRATH really does have a strong hold on Luke. But don't get it twisted, Luke is not angry at anyone at particular, more specifically so, his wrath is directed at himself.

➵ He is so angry at himself, for not being strong enough, for not being good enough, for not being smart enough, but most of all, his angry at himself for not being there for you when you needed him the most.

➵ The anger and wrath that he feels is mostly fueled due to his own shortcomings and inadequacies, and how he expresses that anger is by acting so recklessly, throwing himself into danger, sacrificing himself, again and again. He hopes that his self-sacrifice would compensate for all his failures and shortcomings, he hopes that him throwing his life away would make up the fact that he failed to protect you, failed to give you more time, failed...you.

➵ And most of all, he hopes that his self-sacrifice would help lessen the wrath inside his heart, but it never does, in fact, it only seems to ignite it further.

➵ Now this might sound predictable from the infamous playboy himself, but Marius, is driven by LUST. He likes to indulge in the pleasures of life, whether that be sexual or not, it doesn't really matter to him.

➵ For so long, Marius wanted nothing more than to be free, to live the life that he so desperately wants, and to have the freedom to make the choices that he wants. Those are his deepest desires that he lust for the most.

➵ But sadly, no matter how much Marius lusts over a life of freedom, no matter how many times he wished to indulge in a pleasurable life that not even money can buy, the universe doesn't always give us what we want.

➵ So all Marius has left is to fulfill other people's hopes and dreams, fulfilling other people desires and lust, in hopes that, that would be enough to fill the empty whole inside his heart.

[stanfordsweater]

what are your favorite wincest episodes

hehehe

in chronological order rather than in order of preference:

dead in the water -- i really latched on to this one as a kid and so it still holds a big piece of my heart. i love the slow aching reveal of how traumatized dean is, all with sam right there watching. i will always be preoccupied with the times where dean get peeled back and exposed all vulnerable

what is and what should never be -- another great vulnerable dean episode, i loved the insight we get into his thoughts on sam, more specifically how clear it is that his self-hatred clouds his understanding of sam's motivations and why he sticks around with dean beyond "the job." it helps that sam looks so unbearably sexy in dean's perfect world created from his most desperate desires and deepest insecurities. i want to connect this one with DSOTM, but that ep didn't make the list because season five is PAINFUL and i hate watching it 😭

metamorphosis -- kind of out of left field, but this episode is a great example of how their relationship is breaking down in season four. dean punching sam and sam just taking it and keeping his chin up is such a gut-punch + sam's reaction to the reveal that they angels are watching out for him, for all the worst reasons, while dean is getting closer to them himself... you also get sam's desperation to save dean, to be something good, and his despair and teeth-grinding resolve to stop using into his powers... which only lasts so long. TENSION. delicious.

swan song -- AGONY.

i love so much about carver era, but to whittle it down:

there's a lot of aspects i love about season 8 spread across a number of episodes, like the way dean is just freaking out and trying to protect sam in the great escapist, the tension cas and more immediately benny brings to their relationship, the attempts to reconnect and the feeling that they might actually work through it this time, even with all the jealousy, but every time you think they're about to work it out something else gets worse-- it's really fun. i don't think any individual episode makes this list but they all get honourable mention.

i think i'm gonna like it here & road trip -- double feature because of the way dean's decision comes home to roost. dean's absolute despair in 9x01, it's SO wild and hurts my heart, the way you can understand exactly how they've ended up here, the betrayal, dean's guilt but the lack of apologies, sam's righteous anger and his deep-down buried soul-rending shame... i want to drink it all up with a straw, i'm obsessed. sam is in fine fucking form in road trip. he's NOT BUDGING and it's so good. also he looks fine as fuck and you know dean is burning inside. all of it leading directly to my favourite death scene in the entire show at the end of season nine. fabulous.

safe house -- this one is just a fun reprieve from all the angst of the seasons before, where sam and dean are working a case and making fun of each other and spending hours across from each other in a motel room at a table too small for them and not getting sick of each other. there's also the end scene where sam is so pleased that dean was haunted by visions of him dead <3 affirmations with the winchester brothers!

carry on -- i know many finale haters and i understand their points, but i was so shocked that the show remembered what it was about and delivered us that beautiful monologue and the forehead touch and the heaven reunion, all wrapped up in sam finally having the life he had wanted in a way he would hate. it's poetic and it finally resolves that last lingering question that allows him to actually enjoy heaven, and the final piece dean needs to not feel like a monster for "failing" to provide sam with the apple-pie life. jared has this interview from season eight where he says that sam carries that resentment over being dragged back into hunting with him, and while it's not rational-- ultimately he was not dragged, he made his choice in an impossible situation, manipulated by outside forces-- i really loved that the finale actually gave us (and dean) absolution for this last desire of sam's. i don't know.

[ihearttish]

you’re making me high’

pairing: shuri udaku x black fem!reader ft; emerald haywood

word count: 6.5k

Synopsis: after you and shuri split, it is up to you to go about getting over the breakup. what would happen on a night out trying to do so?

warnings: ( 18+ smut) mean!shuri, adult language, fingering, thigh riding, (if you squint) strap!slinger!shuri, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking… (pure filth)

A/N; hii!! my names niya & wellll— i am quite VERY new to writing so cut me some slack please !🙏�� i do NOT mind constructive criticism, so feel free to give me tips or what not in the comments, i’ll only get better by you doing so :) anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic as much i as i enjoyed writing it! take care <3

tags: @abenomeiiii @playhousedistee @vampzxi @heejayy @amplifiedmoan @shurismainbxtch @inmyheadimobsessed @sapphicvqmpires @oceean ( comment to be added) 😭

dividers from @firefly-graphics

The club's neon lights flashed your eyes as you stepped inside, your heart racing with anticipation. you were out with your best friend Emerald, determined to forget about that ex-girlfriend of yours.

a break up in a relationship that could have been fixed is often the result of unresolved conflicts or communication issues.

in many cases, one or both partners may feel frustrated or misunderstood, leading to a breakdown in the relationship.

if these issues are not addressed, they can escalate and lead to feelings of resentment, anger, and ultimately, a breakup. exactly what has happened with you and shuri.

sometimes, it may be possible to fix a relationship that has ended, but it requires both partners to be willing to work on the issues that led to the breakup.

better communication skills, or making changes to the relationship dynamic. however, it's important to remember that not all relationships can or should be fixed. if issues that led to the breakup are too significant or if one or both partners are not willing to work on them, it may be best to move on. moving on wasn’t something you knew how to do in this case.

it simply hurt too much.

you and shuri were together for two and a half years. what didn’t seem to be something so temporary, was.

the arguments every day, the victimizing, going days without talking to each other, the list could go on. you just couldn’t take it anymore & apparently shuri was tired of it as well. they were all things that can go wrong in a relationship that you wanted to last forever (but did not), went wrong and boy did it hurt like hell when you finally sat down, had a drink, and realized it.

most days you would find yourself starting to miss shuri. most days you wish things would have went differently between the two of you. you wished that she wouldn’t have given up on you two so easily.

other days you think it was a good thing.

shuri was constantly running away from her feelings. it’s like communication was where she drew the line. it’s like it became a boundary, one of the things that can hold a relationship together, the woman you thought of as ‘perfect’ finally lacked something so important. disappointing.

the whole point of going out tonight was so you can finally get that damn girl off your mind. shuri was like your drug and you needed her. like an addiction, almost. you wanted nothing more but to hear from her again. you didn’t care what it took, you just wanted your girl back. however, you wanted her to come back on her own. even if she wasn’t good for you, after all. you missed your girl.

emerald pulled out a chair for you to sit on at the bar. you took a seat and removed your leather jacket.

this would be the first time being back outside for you. you were honestly a wreck. torn, even. emerald being your loving bestfriend who was always there as a shoulder for you to cry on about shuri and any other things that would stress you out, (mostly shuri) she promised to help you out tonight. she didn’t promise to make you forget and move on, but she did promise to help get your mind off it. maybe not forever, but at least for tonight. (failed miserably by the way)

“i can’t believe you were able to get me out here, em.” you say in an embarrassed tone. following up with a chuckle.

“i had to, i couldn’t stand seeing you like that, y/n” emerald’s lips quivered at her words. so damn sensitive. she was really overprotective over you and she never once failed to show it.

when things got rough with shuri, she’d always threaten to ‘beat her up’. you found that part funny, you loved em but judging the fact that shuri would mop the floor with her without question, for obvious reasons, you found it historical. cute, but historical. you gave your best friend a toothy smile and adjusted the way you sat in your seat.

“what you tryna drink, em?” you cock your head to the side, flipping your curly hair out if your face.

“you want me to be honest?” she smirks, looking down at you.

“i’d like that, yeah.” you giggle at her question. she drug her tongue across her lips. “another time.” she smirked once more.

“i’m fucking with the martini though, you?” she side eyed you. “i’ll have whatever you get.”

…

“y/n, you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“oh, so other nights i look gross?” you teased.

“what? that isn’t— that’s not what i meant! the hell?” babygirl was fighting for her LIFE. “i’m just fucking with you!”

you chuckled, causing emerald to give you the dirtiest look. “see girl, that’s yo problem now,” she smiled. “that shit gonna get you snatched up one day, watch.” if only you knew.

you and emerald’s night so far consisted of a bunch of drinking, laughing and conversations that didn’t correlate to shuri. this was something you really needed. although, somehow your mind continuously kept landing on shuri.

“dance with me, em.” you say sternly, standing up and holding out your hand, awaiting hers.

“shit, why not.” she threw back one final swig of her drink and sat the now empty glass down on the table before she takes you by the hand, following right behind you as you guided her through the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.

you and em were now at least two feet away from each other on the dance floor, as the loud music transitioned from a hasty song, into a slower song. you swayed your hips left and right. whining to the beat. you felt and knew you looked good tonight. your brown leather mini skirt began to raise up more and more.

as the melody picked up, you moved your hips in a gentle, smooth motion, almost as if you were floating on the dance floor.

your movements were graceful and fluid, as if you were in a trance, lost in the music. within every beat, your hips swayed back and forth, following the tempo of the song. your eyes were closed, and a small smile played on your lips as you moved to the music, lost in the moment.

🎶 “ ‘Cause I'm in love with that girl

So don't be mad at me

'Cause I'm in love with that girl

So don't be mad at me

So what, you're from the other side of the tracks

So what, the world don't think we match

I'll put it down like my love's on wax, guess what?

I'm in love with that girl

And she told me that she's in love with me “🎶

emerald had her glossy eyes on you as you moved your body to the music. she couldn’t take them off of your curvy figure.

she then took a step closer towards you and held her hand out, nearly wrapping around your waist.

“can i?” she asked, waiting for permission to touch you in such an intimate way.

“y- yes” you hesitate. you barely got to get the word out before both of emeralds hands were found now wrapped around your waist, she took your hand as she spun you around, your back now on her front. she began swaying her hips but you were standing like a damn statue. this took you by surprise.

“em, i don’t think-“

she lowered her head down to your ear, her curls brushed against your neck as you felt the warmth of her breath before she spoke. “i don’t bite y/n/n,” she promised.

“just vibe with me, yeah?” her grip tightened around your waist which caused you to let out a muffled moan. emerald noticed this.

still hesitant, you started moving your hips to the beat again. you and her were now moving in sync. the warmth of her felt nice, you felt very safe in her touch and you grew to hate every second of it.

you hated that you wanted to only be this way with shuri. you hated that your best friend, of many many years was making you feel the way your ex lover made you feel.

although you and shuri were broken up, waves of guilt flourished throughout you. shuri swore up and down this would happen. was she right? she said that if one day you and her were to part ways, you’d end up with emerald.

you denied it, of course. em was your best friend and you never thought you’d feel such things for her because of the friendship you shared. you were almost for certain that it was the same way for emerald.

she couldn’t possibly see you that way. so you thought. you two were only dancing. right? friends dance.

the song slowly transitioned into another and it was a faster tempo.

🎶 “ I'm looking for a girl like you

Well here I go

Now, now, now, who's the baby bobbing

Dipping, dodging, crying, sobbing?

Looking to be mobbing cause it's just clocking and robbing

Oh hi now, welcome to my town

The illy I town, you got kids lifting eyebrows

Every time you fly down, so lie down

Full maxing, seeing you laughing

With passion happening

Every action has a reaction” 🎶

you noticed em’s grip on you loosened so you stepped away from emerald and turned to face her. “emerald, i appreciate you for this you know?” you start. “and i really adore you for attempting to get my mind off things.” your body stiffens as you play with the charms on your bracelet, with the charms that were gifted to you from shuri.

“listen to me y/n.” she stepped closer to you and grabbed you by your arm, her grip was tighter than before, causing you to breathe out.

she pulled you closer to her. “i know you’re fresh out of an relationship that you wanted to go well so bad, i get it, okay? i do.” she looked down at your lips, licked hers and then looked back up into your eyes.

you were just inches away from touching each other’s foreheads. “but i can’t keep holding this in anymore,” your breathing picked up, scared for what she might say next.

“i have feelings for you, y/n/n. i’ve always have. it was extremely painful having you come to me about relationship problems because i knew— i know that if we were ever together, you wouldn’t have to go through any of that and i mean that,” her lip quivered at her own words.

“i mean it with everything in me.” she choked. it was silent for a minute. emeralds eyes roamed any sudden expression on your face, begging you to say something. anything.

“em, how long have you been feeling like this?” you finally spoke, now holding her hand. “ever since we graduated high school. i love the bond we share together, y/n/n. i’ve only ever felt this way about you. i guess i’m tired of you not seeing my feelings towards you, now.”

“i’m glad you told me, em.” your cheek was now wet from the tear you just let fall down your face. she brushed away the tears from your cheek with her thumb and pulled you into a hug. “sorry if i killed the vibe, you were just loosening up.” she chuckled. “no no, you’re okay, emmy, i promise it’s okay. let’s continue?” you reassured her.

she nodded her head and you separated yourselves about and began dancing once again. almost as if that didn’t just happen. what even did just happen?! your best friend confessed her feelings for you and you said—— nothing…

surprisingly, emerald didn’t say anything about you not telling her if the feelings she had for you were reciprocated or mutual. instead, she just had the biggest sheepish smile on her face as you and her danced with each other to the new song that was on. a much faster one.

you were still unsure if you truly felt that same about emerald, or if anything could possibly work out between you too because as of for right now, this very moment, all you could do was think about shuri. her touch, the way she’d look at you & how easy it was for her to have such a impact on you, shuri has such a hold on you and you can’t seem to get enough.

you turn towards emerald to start dancing on her once more when you wish your eyes deceived you when you came into view with the last thing you’d want to right now, this very moment. behind em, sitting down at one of the tables was your ex.

Shuri was seated across the room. your heart sank at the sight of her. to make matters even worse, she was seated with another girl, laughing and having a good time. at least, that’s what it looked like. the girl she had been with had dark skin and long ginger curly hair. the bitch was all in her face. you immediately felt a pang of jealousy and sadness.

it was so hard for you to move on but here shuri was, hugged up with some girl. if you were white, your face would be as red as a hot tamale. you stared long and hard into her soul and before you knew it, her eyes met yours.

the look on her face when she noticed you was malicious. yet, the look on your face gave very much… distraught. you wanted nothing more but for her not to know that her being here with someone else, some skank, got under your skin. instead, you took matters into your own hands. not thinking clearly what so ever.

one thing moving to another, you found your lips on your best friends. you wrapped your arms around her neck as your lips continued sinking into emeralds. hoping it was enough to make shuri jealous. or at least feel what you felt.

you were also hoping this was for nothing and that shuri could see you tonguing your best friend. the kiss became sloppy and hot. however, your feelings for em hadn’t changed, you thought. you opened your eyes and stared into emeralds.

the smile she had on her face made your stomach sink because you’ve only done this to get a reaction from shuri. when you looked back over to her, the look she gave you was devilish. if looks could kill- yeah, you know the rest.

you thought you were done messing with shuri and that you’ve made your point across. emerald had other plans. her lips smashed right back onto yours. this time, the kiss was 10x more passionate and your lips begged for more as you gave in and kissed her back.

her tongue even made it’s way into your mouth as she placed her warm hands around your exposed waist. she kissed you hard and soon, your lips parted.

she leaned down to whisper in your ear once again. “come with me?” she whispered. the desperation in her raspy voice sent a chill or two down your spine. you were about to go and make out and potentially have sex with your best friend. what a night.

you gasped at her words before nodding your head. she held her hand out behind her and you grabbed onto it, following her towards the private rooms the club had.

having to pass your ex, you shoot a glance and once you’ve passed her, you could practically feel her eyes on your back as you and emerald maneuver your way into a unoccupied room, hand in hand.

emerald used your back to slam the door shut as she roughly pushed you against the door. you knew where this was going and your breathing was uncontrollable at this point.

she grabbed your chin and forcefully but gracefully crashed her lips onto yours. the kiss was even more sloppier, even more intense than the first time you’ve kissed her. this girl was hungry and you couldn’t tell whether or not you felt the same way or if you were just in the moment. your hands roamed her body and so did hers.

she broke the kiss and backed away before walking over to the couch taking a seat. she sat down manspreaded, her hands rested in her lap. she starred deeply into your eyes and took her lip in between her teeth.

she then motioned for you come to her and tapped her lap. still in shock that all of this was occurring ever so quickly, you slowly made your approach to where she was sitting. still quite hesitant, but you’ve already dug yourself into a deep hole.

you straddled her, sitting on her lap. your front facing hers. she used her thumb and index finger to lift your face up to hers before she kissed you for the 3rd time tonight. you could practically feel her hunger for you growing in her mouth.

she brought her left hand down to your lower back, taking a drag onto your perfect ass. “fuck y/n.” your mouths separated. “i need you so bad.” she whispered, still trying to catch her breath. “have me.” you challenged with a smirk planted on your face. fuck, why would you say that?

emerald lifted you up off of her slightly, pulled your skirt up a bit, revealing the black lace panties you had on underneath. she pulled them to the side and pushed right back down onto her thigh. she grabbed ahold of your hips and you winced at the friction.

“ride my shit.” emerald said in a low voice. you began to grind up onto her thigh. your wet core drug against her leg slowly. “oh fuck!” you moaned out. she brought her lips to yours as she allowed you to fuck yourself on her, your pace picking up by the second.

you pull away and stopped grinding against her. “emerald, wait.” you got up off of her and pulled your skirt down a bit. “i just-“

before anyone could make another move, the door to the room you were in crashed open. not the normal way to open it though. the door was split right down the middle. the loud noise caused you to jump back, a familiar tattooed hand was seen poking through the new whole in the door and grabbed the handle from the inside, unlocking it and twisting it open.

once the door swung open, there in the doorway stood shuri. your problematic ex. shit.

“shuri, what the fuck?” you shout. “so this what we doing y/n?” shuri said with a low voice before she took one step in. “ain’t i say this would happen?” she shook her head in disappointment.

“shuri i—“ you cry out.

“yeah? you what? you’re about to sit here and let your so called ‘best friend’ have what belongs to me, hm?”

her eyebrows furrowed, putting both of her hands behind her back.

“shuri, you broke up with me!” you put base in that last part. “y/n, i broke up with you to prove a point. look at you, couldn’t even wait to open your legs again,” she took a step closer to emerald.

“gonna let emerod touch you in ways i used to? huh?” she yelled out. “well,” she chuckled. “she fucking can’t. nobody knows yo body like i do. nor would anyone love you as much as i do.” she dropped her hands from behind her back.

“who the fuck is emerod?” emerald questioned.

“you’re literally here with someone else, shuri.” you stepped up in her face. “i’m not fucking with that broad, we’re just friends.” she pointed out.

“same for me and emerald.” you say, backing away. yikes, that’s gotta sting.

“let’s go, emmy.” you grabbed her arm and started to walk past shuri but she hurriedly blocked the exit.

“you think i’m some fool? you put yo lips on that bitch. them same lips that was on every inch of my body not too long ago?” shuri spat.

“yo, who the fuck are you calling a bitch?” emerald stepped in front of you, now face to face with shuri.

“you not hard, get the fuck out of my face, em.” shuri spat back. “you know,” emerald backed up, grabbing her hand. “you don’t deserve y/n,” she brought your hand up to her lips and and kissed it. “i do.” she finished. “yeah?” shuri let out a dry laugh. “yeah. i could love her better,” she promised. “and i could fuck her better.” emeralds words made your eyes shoot up to shuri and then at her. “prove it.” shuri commanded.

the room grew silent for a minute. you’re not too sure what she was implying. “that’s what i thought.” shuri grabbed your wrist, and tugged you along behind her, walking out of the area the private rooms were.

“aye, what the fuck?” emerald grabbed shuri’s arm, making shuri’s neck snap back towards emerald and before you knew it, shuri’s hand went right across em’s face. “leave us.” shuri commands.

“y/n-“ emerald manages to get out, while holding the side of her face. “i said to leave us.” she warned. shuri then began to walk off once she thought her point was across, holding you tightly as you walked with her out of the club.

shuri walked you to the passenger side of her car. she then opened the door but you did not enter. “shuri, that was really uncalled for.” you tell her.

“she’s a big girl, she can handle it.” she replies. “but you literally put your hands on her, that’s not okay. i’d be a terrible friend if i leave here with you.” you shot back. “true,” she says. “that ain’t got shit to do with me.” she shrugs. “shuri.” you spat. “alright. i shouldn’t have reacted that way, but seeing you with her made me want to do more damage then what i’ve already done. just be lucky i didn’t.” she confessed and you sigh.

“if you want to leave with her, cool.” she tells you. “but, i do miss you and i want to talk things out with you.” she smiles. “i miss you too, shuri. i’m gonna go find em.” you grin. you look over to your left and see emerald pulling off in her car. shit. “looks like your coming home with me.” shuri smirked.

you got in the car and shuri closed the door once you were in. she ran to the driver’s side, got in and started the car.

most of the car ride was silent so far. you still had another 20 minutes to go being that shuri’s house was quite far. the silence was loud, the sound of the wind blowing filled your ears as shuri drove on the highway with the windows slightly rolled down. “how have you been, love?” shuri broke the silence. “i’ve been—“ you pause. “fine.” you breathe out. “you know i don’t buy that, right?” she looked at you for a second and then put her focus back at the road.

“then why ask?” you ask. “just trying to make conversation.” she chuckled. you missed that. her laugh, the way she knew you so well, everything. “so, you didn’t give what’s mine away during our time away from each other, right?” she asked.

“i didn’t want anything from anyone but you shuri. i was really hurt.” you tell the truth. “you was about to give it up to emerod tonight if i haven’t shown up.” she mumbled but you heard her clearly. “emerald and i only went that far to make you jealous, shuri. i seen you with that girl so i just did the first thing i could think of.” you tell the half truth. a part of you wanted you and emerald to do the do but another’s part of you was still unsure.

“what about you?” you ask. “i’ve been way too busy missing you, nkoszana.” you gasp at the nickname that you missed so much. shuri placed her hand on your thigh, like she normally would when you’d be in the car together.

you missed that as well. her touch made you tremble and she noticed it. “what took you so long?” you wanted to know. she glanced at you with a confused look on her face. “what do you mean?” she asked. “i’ve been waiting for you to come back to me. if i hadn’t been with emerald, would you still?” you ask with a pained voice.

“of course i would, i just wanted to be right about something. luckily you were here tonight, i was going to have to give in and pull up or something if i haven’t seen you tonight.”

“so is that why you broke up with me? to prove a fucking point?” you shouted at shuri. “what? no. i just was running away from my feelings. i’ve realized that it’s the only thing i do. i felt like i had too much pride to tell you exactly how i really felt and you didn’t deserve that so i just did us both a favor and ended things.” not knowing what to say to that, you were silent. “i can’t be without you, y/n. instead of running from my feelings, i want to discuss them, from now on. okay? i want to fix us.” she claimed.

“then why have you been acting the way you have been?” you shot back. “because you and emerald were all over each other. i was afraid.” she admits. “afraid? afraid of what, shuri?” you look at her. “i thought she’d take you away from me. you never seen what i saw when you two were constantly together. it mad me feel,” she swallowed. “misfit.”

she finished. “shuri, why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“you wanted me to admit i was jealous?” she chuckled. “yes. all of this could’ve been avoided and worked out, you know?”

“i do now. i’m sorry okay? now that you know, can i have back my baby girl?” her voice got low.

“i don’t know shuri, i don’t think it’s that easy.”

“tell me what i need to do then?”

“promise me you’ll communicate with me.” shuri bit her lip. “i promise my love. i’ll try for you, i swear it.”

you smile and put your hand on top of hers that never left your thigh. shuri chuckled and leaned in for a kiss. you leaned your head in as well. you pecked her lips a good three times, but as soon as you pulled away, shuri licked her lips hungrily.

you could tell you weren’t the only one wanted more.

you knew your girl.

you look at shuri and soon she looks at you as well. she bites her lip and began to start slowly rubbing your thigh in small circles, the way she knew you liked. shuri knew just how to get you going.

she looked back at the road but continued to rub your thigh. she hand slowly made its way to in between your legs. she stopped when she reached your fabric on your underwear.

you took a deep breath as she gave you a look that says “can i?” and you nod your head yes.

“let me hear you say it, mama.” that made your knees buckle in your seat, which earned a smirk from shuri.

“i want you to use your words, love.” she repeats. “can i make you cum?” she asked.

“fuck, yes shuri.” she wasted no time taking her fingers to your clothed cunt. she started to rub your pussy slowly, in small circles on your clit.

“look at you, leaking for me already.”

shuri slid her index finger down your slit, stopping at your entrance. “fuck!” you cried out. she then slowly inserted two fingers inside your dripping cunt, pumping into you slowly as you squirmed in your seat beneath her.

she rammed her skilled digits into faster as your moaning became louder. “unh! shuri, shuri, shuri!”

“damn baby, i missed the way you say my shit.” her pace sped up, she fucked into you harder, increasing sounds of the high pitched moans escaping your mouth. she curved her fingers slightly, this made your back arch.

she moved her fingers in and out of you so well while driving with one hand. wasn’t nothing new for you but somehow, it felt better than it ever has. “oh— fuck shuri. i’m gonna- unh!” you spread your legs wider, letting her into you as much as possible. “i’m so fucking close, don’t stop!”

“yeah? you gonna cum on my shit?” shuri curved her fingers up, hitting all the right places, causing your legs to tremble. “yes, i’m gonna cum. shit!” you managed to get out. “mmm i’m gonna, i’m-“ before you could finish, you whined at the empty feeling of your pussy that had been leaking all over shuri’s seat.

“wh- shuri! what the fuck?”

“you gotta wait til i get you home, love.” she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked off what remained on them. “i wanted to cum now!” you yelled at her, sounding like a big baby.

“i didn’t want my seat’s messy. you’ll thank me later, mama.”

“like i haven’t made a mess on them before.” you mumbled. “what was that?” shuri shot back. “nothing.” you pouted and crossed your arms, sitting back in your seat.

shuri pulled into her garage in her apartment. “come on big baby.” she mocked in a whiney voice.

“shut up.” you scoffed and got out of the car. you both walked to the elevator, you pressed the button and waited for the door to open. once it did, you both walked in and shuri pressed the floor number as you rested your exposed back against the cold wall. you looked everywhere but at her, clearly still irritated that she played with your nut like that.

“you really got a attitude, huh?” she said before laughing dryly. you ignored her. “do you hear me talking to you?” she stepped in front of you. you looked at her and then looked away again. shuri took her hand and grabbed you by your neck, forcing you to look up at her. “you really don’t want to ignore me right now.”

“you know i have an attitude, why ask dumb questions?” you rolled your eyes. the elevator dinged and she let go of you. “go.” she said, smirking. you walked out and stopped outside of her apartment number. shuri unlocked and opened the door and pushed you inside. she picked you up and carried you up all of the stairs, entering her bed room, she threw you onto her freshly made bed. “still got that attitude?” she checked. “not gonna change nothing so it don’t matter.”

“let’s fix that then.” she stood over you. “strip.” she demanded. you sat up and slid off your skirt first, then your cropped top & your heels. you reached for your panties but shuri smacked your hand away. “leave these on.” you obeyed and looked into her eyes. she once again grabbed you by your neck and pulled your face into hers, kissing you sloppily.

her slipping her tongue into your mouth made you moan out. your legs wrapped around her body as she laid you down on your back. still holding your neck, she let go and began trailing kisses down it. your breathing started to pick up from the pleasure her kisses caused. the kisses turned into sucking and small nibbles, you were for sure you’d leave her marked up completely.

she moved down to your boobs, cupping the right one and taking the left one into her mouth. she then gave attention to the other one, resulting in many breathy moans coming from you.

she kissed down your stomach, making you shiver at her touch. once she made it to below your stomach, she unwrapped your legs from around her and left kisses up your thighs. she also kissed around your aching cunt, begging to be used and abused.

“shuri, please.” you cried out. “please what?” she looked up at you. “tell me what you want baby.”

“want you to taste me.” you say. “that’s my girl.” shuri smiled and looked down at your leaking front. she played with the now wet fabric if your panties. “these look good on you.” she praised.

before you knew it, you heard a ripping sound. “shuri? what the fuck?” shuri created a hole in your underwear. big enough that it exposed your entire pussy. “look at her, begging for me to fuck her up.”

she then took her fingers to your clit. she rubbed slowly in circles, while looking into your eyes. “watch me, okay baby?” you nodded before moaning at her touch. she put her head down and slid her tongue over your clit. she licked and sucked on it, making you squirm and whimper.

“fuck, baby!” you moaned out. she took two fingers and stuck them inside of your hole while she continued to eat your pussy. she rammed her fingers into you like she did in the car, sending you over the edge. you instantly felt yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm as your hips bucked upwards into her face, riding it out. “shuri! i’m so close, fuck!” you grabbed her head, bucking your hips harder. shuri curved her fingers and pumped in and out of your harder as well.

“unhh! i’m cumming, i’m- unhh” you were a moaning mess. you felt yourself release in shuri’s mouth but the pleasure didn’t stop, shuri continuously slid her fingers into your dripping cunt. “mm, you taste so fucking good.” the vibrations of her words sent you over. she sat up and pulled you in to kiss her and you tasted yourself on her lips. once she pulled away, you laid back on the bed, out of breath. trying to come down from your high.

“you okay now, love?” shuri stood up and took off her shirt and her cargos, leaving herself in nothing but her black sports bra and matching boxers. she tossed the clothes in her hamper and sat down at the edge of the bed. finally calmed down, you sat up and crawled over to where shuri was sitting. you wrapped your arms around her and smiled ear to ear. “i am now.”

“where you at? one more?” she cackled. “one more baby.”

shuri got up and walked into her closet and you sat on the bed patiently waiting for whatever she had to offer up next. shuri returned with a strap you knew well. the one that she could feel whatever you felt. the one that you came on every single time she used it. she lifted you up and laid you in your back, but your head hung off the bed a little.

thinking that was a mistake, you scooted back so your head wasn’t dangling off but shuri grabbed your face and pulled it back, hanging off the bed once again. “nah, stay here.” shuri demanded. shuri hovered over you and you finally understood what was going on. she slid her thumb over you lip and placed a kiss on your forehead. before you knew, shuri slammed her dick into your mouth, roughly. “fuck! let me use that pretty mouth of yours.”

shuri grabbed your face and thrusted into your mouth, slamming her dick down your throat fast and hard. she fucked your throat as spit flung everywhere, sliding down her thighs and your face. she fucked into you some more until tears ran down your cheeks, you were feeling as if you couldn’t quite breathe properly but you wanted to make her feel good so you dealt with it.

she pulled out of your mouth, panting and throwing around curse words here and there. she didn’t cum yet so that was now your mission. completely fucked out, shuri laid you on your stomach. you arched your back for easy access and shuri angled her dick at your entrance.

she bent down and kissed your back before slowly feeling you up with her strap. “fuck!” you moaned out. she started off slowly thrusting into you. your ass smashed against her front repeatedly, making your big ass jiggle. shuri smacked your ass hard and you winced in pain. it hurt but it was a good hurt. she placed her hands on your hips and fucked into you faster & deeper, your skin smacking against hers.

“oh my- fuckk baby! unnh” you fucked her back, throwing everything you had against her. “you feel so fucking good.” shuri grabbed a hand full of your hair and pulled, lifting your head up. “you fuck me so well, shuri. mm” you praise. this caused her to speed up. making your head drop even though she was holding you up by your hair. “sit the fuck up, can’t even sit up for me, so pathetic.” she breathed out. she gripped harder, wrapping your hair around her hands a few times.

you were a whimpering mess, she slammed into your g spot over and over. she always did so well pleasing you but something really snapped within her tonight.

“i want you to flood my shit, baby. can you do that for daddy?” she managed to say. her pants made you even wetter than you already were. “unnh!” was all you could manage to say. “answer me!” she shouted. she slapped your ass making you hiss. “yes, yes, yesss. shuri, fuck!” you finally said. feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “that’s my girl.”

“but first,” she picked up the pace, digging deep into you. “you think em could ever fuck you like i do? huh?” she asked. “mm mm unnh” was all you could say. “use your fucking words, y/n” she fucked into you harder and harder. “no. baby, no. UNH. i belong to you. i’m all yours baby. fuck!” you told her what she wanted to hear and you meant every single word. “this my pussy?” she moaned at your words. “this all yours, shuri!” you cried out. “i’m cumming shuri, fuck!” the sound of your squelching wet pussy and you & shuri’s moans filled the room as you let go of everything you had.

“unh. i’m right behind you baby! fuck.” you felt shuri’s release intertwine with yours. she let go of your hair and you both crashed down onto the bed laying beside each other. the both of you were breathing heavily, trying to come down from your high.

shuri rolled over onto her side and faced you. “does this mean i’m yours again?” shuri asked you, pushing away the hair that rested wildly on your forehead. “you always will be shuri.” she smiled and pulled you close as she hugged you, still breathing heavy. “i missed you, my love.”

“i’ve missed you too.” your lips connected and she kissed you passionately while rubbing your back.

[peony-pearl]

(this was part of a discussion from another post that I wanted to move to it’s own post bc this right here is the crux of my emotions for Iroh and Zuko and Azula; it does end kind of abruptly but yeah this is me wordvomiting my feels)

--------

Man the Iroh and Azula relationship in atla breaks my heart because, yes, there is favoritism - but the situations that built up to it are so specific and tragic on both ends (this is more of me rambling bc I have brainworms for this fam oughghghg if you read this thank you)

I do believe that Iroh did what he could to maintain a good relationship with both Zuko and Azula before he left for BSS. Zuko was 8, Azula was 6. That’s YOUNG. I almost wonder if she could remember what he looked like, because after Lu Ten’s death, I think he immediately took that journey before returning to the Fire Nation, thus there could have been another year or two+ until she saw him. She potentially went from ages 6-10 years old without seeing her uncle. Not to mention that even before Ursa left, Azula was already parroting Ozai’s rhetoric. Now with her mother gone, Azula had her father’s full attention and her friends (until the three were separated).

Zuko on the other hand, after his mother’s disappearance, didn’t have any friends from what we saw, nor did he have his father’s approval, and his relationship with Azula? We’re unsure of at this time, but all things considered, he’s had a resentment towards her because of the trauma Ozai is putting him through (which is also trauma to Azula by emotionally excluding her and putting her on a pedestal that he himself will topple). When Iroh returns, Zuko, who is most likely lonely AF, gives his uncle some attention, who then in turn, gives Zuko attention he’s wanted from one of his elders for a long time.

Azula, entrenched in Ozai’s teachings, resents Iroh for abandoning Ba Sing Se, and sees how he overindulges with tea and food to cope with the pain. She won’t be like him; and to even be seen near him by her father is embarrassing. But I’m almost certain she would see the relationship Zuko and Iroh were forging and it HURT. Iroh probably doesn’t force her to talk; that’s not the conversation he wants to have is to force her to spend time with someone she doesn’t want to be around. Besides, to anger Azula could lead to angering his brother, and he’s not at all ready for that mess. He of all people knows the almighty power of the Fire Lord; he was prepared to carry that glorious burden his whole life until it slipped from his fingers.

Ultimately Iroh is fine talking to just Zuko; but no one sees the seeds that are being planted. Iroh doesn’t realize how he’s still playing the game his father embedded in their minds. Iroh leaves Azula to her devices, unaware of how she is living the life that created and destroyed Iroh himself, while he can put his misplaced fatherhood upon Zuko. At this point, Zuko still just sees him as uncle.

And then the Agni Kai. Zuko is burned, and Iroh goes with him. I’m not entirely versed in the manga about Azula getting Zuko his ship, but I think it says a lot that Azula, even when upset that Zuko and Iroh had a relationship, made sure Iroh was part of the team because she knew Iroh could ensure Zuko’s survival. Plus it got him out of the palace so she wouldn’t have to keep seeing him or hearing his dumb laugh, or be invited to Pai Sho games (Which she did want to play but Uncle is SO ugh you know?)

And then three years pass. 3 long years in which Iroh and Zuko may not expect to go home. Iroh probably comes to terms with this; he’s older, jaded, still messed up from losing his son and everything that came with it. Zuko, however, wants his birthright (aka his father’s approval and love). Zuko and Iroh are waging this part of their lives together while Azula and Ozai are holding down the fort; she is becoming stronger and smarter, and has every ounce of her father’s approval.

I have a couple of headcanons as to why Iroh’s demeanor had a bit of a big change once we get to season 2. Nearly losing Zuko to the pirates made him realize how much he saw the boy as his surrogate son. So yes, the favoritism is there; they have endured things together for 3 years that have forged a bond that gives Zuko a father figure (that he didn’t really ask for) and Iroh a surrogate son (that he is more than willing to guide and smother) and this topic alone is enough to make me want to scream and wail because Iroh wanting nothing more than a second chance than to guide a son who wants his actual father who cares nothing for him and yet Iroh CONTINUES to try with Zuko? brain goes BRRRR

(but I also heavily headcanon Iroh’s presence during Yue’s sacrifice to have been a game changer in the way he carries himself and continues to live; but that’s just a headcanon; but the way that he watches a princess from a nation he has waged war upon sacrifice her life for a world she’s never seen when he’s lost his son and he almost lost Zuko and watching her fade away gives him stronger convictions to be a true father figure to Zuko; even if he’s still kind of bad at it for a while, his dedication to Zuko as a son really takes flight in the following season and I think this all ties together)

and then when Azula comes to collect them to take to Ozai and lies to Zuko about the thing he’s been wanting for 3 years. The thing that’s kept him up, ate away at him, the thing that SHOULD be natural - his father’s love. It’s a lie.

And Iroh defends his nephew unflinchingly from his sister - who is also just a pawn and a soldier, just like Iroh was. I personally like to imagine he taught her some of her skillset (but would she have retained it since she was last willing to learn from him around the age of 6? She is very smart after all).

But could Iroh have looked at Azula, realizing it was her that shot that lightning and, after Zuko called him a ‘shallow old man’, gone to Azula and asked what Ozai had put her through over the years? Or did he still revere the power of the Fire Lord, and the magnitude of power Azula holds.

This leads to one big problem with the family - communication. Especially for Iroh. Communication SUCKS in this family. Zuko is so volatile that Iroh often cannot bring himself to really explain things to Zuko in a clear way, which doesn’t help because Zuko NEEDS to be spoken to clearly because he does not get metaphors and proverbs - but is Iroh really even the best person to explain to Zuko that his father is hurting both him and his sister? When Zuko wants so desperately to go home and be loved? And yet hearing that his sister is suffering would enrage him when she’s only been adored by Ozai. And even then, if Iroh acknowledges Azula’s suffering, he doesn’t act to help her. Could he though? He doesn’t give up on Zuko (who struggled for validation) but he never attempts with Azula (who had the Fire Lord’s entire approval).

For Season 2, everything about Zuko and Iroh is the path to stay alive and stay free… which they’re not free. They never will be again because the Fire Nation wants them and in order to stay safe they must seek refuge indefinitely in BSS. Thus, they must avoid Azula, who is willing to enact on her father’s orders (he IS the Fire Lord, after all). Azula has also shot Iroh with fire. Yes, Iroh is much older and Azula is 14; but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a point that Iroh looks at her and sees her traveling with her friends, facing the Avatar, besting Iroh himself in a situation and as he wakes up from his injuries after she attacks him, he goes ‘I’m done.’ He would continue to put all of his efforts on Zuko. There is a very potential life or death situation with them being wanted, and Iroh won’t relive losing a child under his care.

And yet he would know where Azula’s life is eventually going to lead her, because he was once her. But he left the Fire Nation to escort Zuko and to keep him safe. Zuko did everything he could to try and finish his father’s task, and now his efforts have only landed him a wanted poster. Azula has the Fire Lord’s blessing and her crown - Zuko and Iroh are all each other have, and they also have the bounty on their heads. The efforts Azula put through to ensure that Iroh kept Zuko safe have now reversed, and they are actively evading her as enemies. The painful irony.

Had Ozai never sent her out to collect them, I absolutely think Iroh would still remain open to his niece. Unfortunately, Ozai continues to task her with ways to divide her from her family and therefore keep her closer to his will. By entrusting her with their capture, he alienates her from her shamed brother and uncle, and then gives them reason to have grief with her and not want to be in her life as she actively and willingly serves her father, not once hearing them out on their side of the story. They are rushing to find a way to stay out of chains and survive while she flawlessly continues her family’s goals.

What if she was never tasked with capturing them? But was still traveling the Earth Kingdom to broaden the Fire Nation’s reign? What if there had been a point when she wasn’t poised to capture them or attack them? I can still see Zuko naturally being bitter that she’s there. Iroh may still even be wary, as having her around after they have not achieved a goal means failure and capture (which is what I reason their reactions to her showing up in The Avatar State to be; they immediately know something is off because without a letter, without warning, Azula shows up in full armor after they have not achieved their goal of capturing the Avatar; and Iroh heard lightning earlier, and if it wasn’t Ozai and he deduces it was Azula? Oh lord she knows how to conjure lightning now which means they’re in deep sludge); but imagine if she’s just there to start her overseas military career, not to capture them. What if she knew they were wanted? What if they saw her, knowing they’re wanted, and they avoid her until they come face to face with her and she’s even more hurt that they immediately believed she would be cold enough to turn them in? They really thought that low of her? lol okay HEY GUARDS. Or what if she was like ‘Zuzu I made sure you had that ship and crew, you really think I’d turn you in?’ Or the opposite? In which Zuko sees Azula and knows they can trust her, but the more they get help from her the more she worries that Ozai is going to learn that she’s been secretly helping them through their escapades as wanted men? What if it had been Azula that got them their passports to BSS and was like ‘go here and stay out of my hair I am BUSY and I can’t keep risking my neck for you like this’.

[inkykeiji]

its mentioned a little bit in the fic but while we're on the topic: how does tag!dabi feel about his mother?? and where is she now? since dabi says he misses her if im remembering correctly.

oooooh anon!!! such a good question!!

tw: mentions of physical abuse + drug abuse

tag!dabi’s feelings toward his mother are very, very complex. they aren’t something he’s even fully unpacked—aren’t something he’s sure he’ll ever fully unpack, hesitant on whether or not he even wants to untangle something so heavy and messy and convoluted.

you’re right! he does mention within part two that he misses her deeply. and he does. tag!dabi was very close with his mother, and one of the reasons why he fucking hates seeing keigo put his hands on reader (aside from the fact that it’s wrong on so many levels; just fundamentally wrong) is because his father used to hit his mother, and it made him so fucking angry that his vision bled a furious red. he was even angrier that he wasn’t big enough or smart enough or rich enough to do anything about it. he couldn’t help her. he couldn’t save her. he couldn’t protect her.

he loves her, deeply, dearly, but he doesn’t have many happy memories of her; only up until he was about 8 or 9, and then everything crumbles to ash the moment shouto enters their pristine family photo.

the feelings he experiences when he thinks of his mother are contradictory, paradoxical; he understands why she did the things she did, why she ultimately turned to drugs as an escape from it all. he also understands that his mother suffers from severe mental illness (and worries, silently, that he might’ve inherited a piece of it—he heard these things can be genetic, you know). he gets it, he does. but he also understands that while it isn’t her fault that she’s sick, it was her responsibility, her duty, to see a doctor and try to get better. he feels anger towards her, anger towards the fact that she took what he believes to be the ‘coward’s way out’, anger towards the fact that she picked drugs and their manufactured bliss over her own children time and again.

he sympathizes with her mother and everything she went through due to his brute of a father, but he knows she had resources, avenues she could’ve pursued to get them all help, to get them all out of there, and that she didn’t. that she deliberately chose not to. any fight she had ever contained had been beaten out of her long ago, and she was too tired to do anything but take the easy way out.

her choices hurt him. he took her decision to turn to drugs very personally. but he loves her so much, and he knows she tried. she tried to keep up the charade, she tried to be the Good Housewife and Great Mother in the Happy Family, she tried to keep everything as ‘normal’ as she could, even as she sank deeper into addiction, even as she began to crave that euphoric release more and more potently.

he doesn’t know if his siblings were ever taken from his father after The Incident with the kettle, after his mom had been put away, locked in a cushy padded cell. he didn’t stick around long enough to find out, but he knows that his father has enough authority to sway others, to get his way, just like he always does.

there is a tiny piece of him, buried deep deep deep in his soul, that holds resentment towards himself for running, too. that calls him a hypocrite for doing exactly what his mother did, for leaving his younger siblings to deal with their father, alone, because he just couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t handle continuing to take the brunt of the abuse so his baby siblings didn’t have to. but he silences that shard of himself easily enough, reminding himself that he was only thirteen, only a fucking child, dealing with things no child should ever have to deal with, and it was not his goddamn job to parent his kid siblings. such responsibility should never be thrust upon a mere child. never. it’s extremely unfair to ask of a kid, especially a kid in his position.

so those are the knotty, complex feelings he has towards his mother. he hasn’t been able to bring himself to visit her in the psychiatric hospital, not once, though he hopes that one day he can. he thinks he’ll regret it if she dies before he gets to talk to her, and see her face to face, just once more.

[allaboutdating]

Why You should forgive

Forgiveness is a powerful and transformative process that allows individuals to let go of negative emotions and move forward in a positive way.

Forgiveness involves releasing feelings of anger, resentment, and bitterness towards someone who has wronged you, and instead choosing to let go of those negative emotions and move forward with a sense of peace and acceptance.

Forgiveness can be a difficult process, especially if the hurt caused by the other person was significant. However, it's important to remember that forgiveness is not about condoning or excusing the other person's behavior, but rather about freeing yourself from the negative emotions that may be holding you back.

Here are some key components of the forgiveness process:

Acknowledge the hurt: In order to forgive someone, you first need to acknowledge the hurt that was caused. This involves confronting your emotions and being honest with yourself about how the other person's actions made you feel.

Choose to forgive: Forgiveness is a choice, and it's important to make a conscious decision to let go of negative emotions and choose forgiveness. This may involve talking to the other person and letting them know that you forgive them, or simply choosing to let go of negative emotions on your own.

Work on healing: Forgiveness is not a one-time event, but rather a process that takes time and effort. It's important to work on healing yourself and processing your emotions in a healthy way, whether that means talking to a therapist, practicing self-care, or engaging in activities that make you feel good.

Let go of resentment: Resentment and bitterness can be major obstacles to forgiveness, but it's important to let go of these negative emotions in order to move forward. This may involve practicing gratitude, focusing on the positive aspects of your life, and working on cultivating a sense of empathy and understanding towards others.

Practice self-forgiveness: In addition to forgiving others, it's important to practice self-forgiveness as well. This involves acknowledging any mistakes you may have made and choosing to let go of negative feelings towards yourself.

Ultimately, forgiveness is a powerful tool for healing and moving forward in a positive direction. By choosing to forgive and letting go of negative emotions, you can free yourself from the past and create a brighter future for yourself.

[secret-ushy14]

Hey

I know you’re dealing with a lot rn and that this is cruel of me to do but I need to tell you this,I’m feeling like shit about this ,my love for you our relationship,it feels as though it’s not what we both wanted. We both have needs it just feels as though mine is not being met, It hurts to feel ignored, especially when I noticed that you seem to have time for others over us. I know you’re struggling with depression, and I sympathize, but it feels like I’m competing with your own mind for your attention. I hate having to constantly hear that if you truly wanted to fix things, you’d make an effort, but I can’t help but sort of agree. It takes both of us to make this relationship work, and I feel like I’m the only one trying. I want you to find your way out of this situation and see that you have someone who loves you deeply. Constantly confronting you shouldn’t be necessary. I feel like I’m holding onto something that’s slipping away.

Despite the pain, I can’t help but love you. I want to support you emotionally, but you’ve become so distant. You used to share everything with me, and now it’s like there’s a barrier between us. I don’t need to know every detail, but I wish I felt included, like your girlfriend, not just an afterthought.

I’ve cried over this because I care deeply and want the best for you, but your reluctance to let me in makes it hard. It’s difficult to find the right words to comfort you. Sometimes, I feel foolish for holding on when the me months ago would have walked away .But you’re different; I see myself giving everything for a chance to make this work, I want this to work.

There’s anger and resentment building inside me that I keep pushing down because I care about you so much it hurts. I lay awake at night, hoping for a text that never comes. It’s exhausting to always be the one reaching out first. I want you to know I love you, but if you’re tired of me, I want you to end things on your own accord. I know I will get over it. I feel neglected, and you know it, but it seems you don’t want to acknowledge it. I hate this feeling. I’m struggling too. Every day, I think about going back to old habits that would harm me. I hate my body and who I am. Did I make things weird? Are you realizing that my love is too much for you? Why do you sabotage your happiness? Why do you feel like you don’t deserve love?

I’m willing to give you my firsts. I want to fuck you and give you my all. I love you, but don’t make me hate you. I’m not mad at you I can’t bring myself to ultimately hate you because at the end of the day I know it’s not your fault but it’s time to fucking see through it. I need you and I want this it feels good I feel good when I’m with you. I don’t know if you see this as a casual thing but I came into this with something more,again this is my first time so I’m naive but I’m trying to get this to work and I don’t want to ask too much or even bother you too.

This pressure of being perfect or even able to perform well when all I ever wanted was you here. I don’t have high expectations of you but I hold you in a high regard, you’re smart, you’re aware and you’re initiative. Those are the things that made me so attractive to you, things you don’t get enough credit for. I like your voice and I like how your lips crinkle with that cute smile you have idk it’s really cute and I’ve fallen so deeply inlove with you it hurts to not know what’s going through your mind anymore, am I too stupid to understand? Is it to protect me or are you scared I’ll leave. I feel the same way. I’m not one to talk deeply about struggles but I understand. Whatever I don’t want to type this all out I know you wont read it it’s okay I’m sorry for doing this I didn’t mean to give you stress

[kjdara-side]

Y'know, even if I wouldn't take the route at the end, I completely understand that this fic isn't even really about having a happy ending.

I avoided reading this for so long because Im still recovering from CICYHN, but I can understand why reader chose to do this. We see her forgive him again and again, waiting for him to see that she isn't going to abandon him. It's in her blood to always do good and fight for the good in others, and it's why she kept fighting despite Bucky pushing everything away.

She's a hopeful spirit, no doubt. And we see her hold so much damn confidence and power when we see her confront him, hence the calmness and leaving the ring. She even threatens to kill him, but really we know it's the anger and betrayal talking to not get hurt again. It was like she was guarding her heart but in the same protective way we see her fight for others.

So really, her forgiving him at the end did signify growth. She had the strength to focus on herself and attempt find love elsewhere, even allowing herself to just be friends with Bucky. But the thing it seems like people miss is that she isn't in love with him in the same degree she was before, she knows better now! The only difference it seems is that they both made peace with the demons they were fighting back in the snap. She overcame the pain of all her losses through time, forgiveness, and strength to start over new. And isn't that what we all strive for after grieving? How do we move on from the past if we never allow ourself to restart?

And while we may never recover from this, Reader had a year to grieve and wallow. We only had less than an hour. Healing is not linear in any way, but I do find the beauty in this story is how she chose to heal herself and find courage to find happiness with Bucky. People have their own way of coping and healing, so it isn't bad that she chose Bucky at the end— we need to remember that she went no contact immediately after it happened! It's not like she begged him to love her right after! So she isn't the one to blame, at all.

They're different people now in different circumstances, as stated near the end. It did take me the whole night to process everything, but essentially I had come up with the conclusion that this is the reality of some people's life. If we judge the two of them getting back together at the end, we are missing the entirety of the story in itself. Each scene depicts so much heartbreak, betrayal, vulnerability, morality, and self-reflection. Every scene that follows one another looks to depict her stages of grief, ultimately settling on acceptance at the end—however messy it may look.

I don't know, I may be talkin out of my ass, but I can't bring myself to hate this fic even if I tried. Your writing just encapsulates the authenticity of relationships and love. There is a poetic nature to how you show growth in characters and their attempts to mend themselves into a new person. It hurts yes, but time eventually heals all wounds. We can't hold grudges or continue to live in resentment forever, it hurts no one but ourselves.

Thanks for giving us another beautiful fic. I will always be in awe of your angsty writing because I trust you to fulfill that need I have when I'm feeling masochistic LOL. ❤️

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 😊

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

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 Batnes.  

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.

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[pluckyredhead]

It is baffling to me how much hate JayRoy gets. For what is ultimately a soft bff ship, it has a disproportionate amount of anger directed at it. Explain????

I mean, as a longtime Roy fan, I get why longtime Roy fans in particular resent it. Jason and Roy have literally only interacted in Red Hood and the Outlaws and its various sequels, and those are truly terrible and actively offensive comics written by a confessed and chronic sexual harasser. It also emerged out of the New 52, and I don't know a single DC fan who was reading comics when the New 52 happened who didn't feel deeply hurt by pretty much everything about that reboot, myself included. The Roy in those comics is unrecognizable from his previous 70 years of canon, severed from all of his history and cherished relationships, and written entirely to serve the purpose of lifting up Lobdell's ludicrous Gary Stu version of Jason. They are bad comics. It doesn't help that so much of the fandom continually centers Jason at Roy's expense, even now.

So yeah, I get being pissed about that - I was too, 10 years ago! But I feel like after a certain point, holding on to that kind of anger is just sort of unproductive? Like, yeah, the New 52 was awful, and RHATO is awful, but they both happened, let's see if we can't make something good out of it. For me, that was enjoying the over-the-top accidental homoeroticism of RHATO and realizing that actually, the character I recognize as Roy would be really interesting to pair with Jason. That was finding ways to reconcile pre-52 Roy with what we were now being given (remind me to write that post I've been thinking of about Roy's tech-y tendencies even before the reboot). I get mad too, but I don't want to wallow in it. I want to build.

All that said, I totally understand people who are like "Nope, too much water under the bridge there, I can never ship it." Or people who just don't like it for whatever reason! That's allowed! But there I do agree that people who hate JayRoy tend to be extremely vocal about it in a way that I would never be publicly about a ship I disliked (and HOO BOY do I have ships I dislike). I was looking at twitter yesterday and so many people are furious even though they've gotten exactly what they want (Roy hanging out with the Titans and looking for Lian), just because Jason is there? Friends, it is not worth it!

I don't know. It just feels like...so much about being a comics fan is infuriating, I'd rather not make it even worse on myself by reading everything through the most negative lens possible, you know?

[echo-of-sounds]

ptsd

How Aizawa and Toshinori would help and support their partner with PTSD.

I'm going to be honest, this was absolutely exhausting to write. I think I greatly overextended myself today because I don't feel great now (there might be some mistakes in this because of this), but I kept going because I wanted to get this out. Aizawa has a couple less headcanons than Toshi, but I did add in a little snippet of writing for him that I wrote some time ago.

Warnings: though I kept some of these vague, it is ultimately from my perspective of having sexual trauma: self-harm, some suicidal thinking, anger issues, mentions of and alluding to sexual trauma/rape, panic attacks, intrusive thoughts, derealization/depersonalization, and dissociative amnesia

Aizawa Shouta

Whether or not Aizawa has ‘official’ PTSD, he does experience a lot of the symptoms: insomnia, nightmares, avoids thinking about certain things, flashbacks, and panic attacks. And those are just the more ‘notable’ symptoms. When something hard falls, his muscles clench tight, unable to release until he’s inside and safe. When he’s out in public, trying to be normal, a teenager’s scream or baby’s cry alerts him. He searches for the source, only able to talk himself down when he sees it’s only kids playing on the swings.

You may be open and explain your diagnosis to him, or you may keep it to yourself, too ashamed or worried to tell him. Either way, he picks up on symptoms before you tell him, seeing the same lesser-known behaviors and reactions in you that he often struggles with: wanting your back against the wall to see the entire room, subtle mood-swings, hypervigilance, the smallest of interactions becoming emotionally taxing, afraid to go outside, disordered eating, and chronic pain from clenched muscles and a high heart rate.

While he wouldn’t say he’s used to self-harm, as it’s always troubling to see bruised, misshapen knuckles and gashed open skin, especially on someone he cares for, he isn’t a stranger to it. He’s experienced those overwhelming emotions too tangled to speak. Sometimes, it’s almost easier to hurt yourself than explain them. He also knows it isn’t attention-seeking behavior like how society accuses adults of being when they self-harm. He’ll patch you up, take you to urgent care if necessary, and keep you in his arms the rest of the day. Responsibilities can wait.

And like self-harm, Shouta handles panicked responses fairly well, no matter if it’s a panic attack, flashback, nightmare, or intrusive thoughts. He’s dealt with his fair share, and he’s helped people through similar things during his patrols to know how to talk someone through one. The only time he uses restraint is if you’re harming yourself and not responding to him. He knows it isn’t the best to use physical restraint, but he just cannot tolerate watching and listening to you scratch your neck raw or punch your thigh till it’s bruised.

Trauma changes how you interact with the world. It makes you less trusting, easily angered, frustrated, pissed off, resentful, disgusted, and offended at how people look at you. They call you brave. They call you a survivor. They compliment your strength, making your story and distress into some inspiration porn that you should be proud of, completely unaware of how you’re barely holding on, revolted by your own body and thoughts, praying to whatever god that’ll listen to kill you in your sleep. It makes you want to scream, to choke them to shut up. Your trauma isn’t theirs. You aren’t a charity case. It’s fucking putrid.

Sho directs you away from the source, pulling if needed. Continuing to interact with whatever’s triggering you won’t do you any good. He doesn’t want you to suppress or ignore the anger. That’ll lead to a whole 'nother group of issues. He simply wants you to release it in a healthy way: going for a run or walk, to the gym, rough sex, or just hucking pillows against the wall. After, it’s time for ibuprofen for all the furrowed muscles and a warm bath, getting the last of the anger to dissipate.

Insomnia is an unwanted, old friend of his. He’s tried stupid breathing techniques. He’s tried tea and melatonin. But nothing seems to work. His jobs and their responsibilities don’t help. While he likes both of them, they often become a detriment to his mental health, requiring too many odd hours to the point he can’t get a break even when he’s at the dorms relaxing and too much of his energy and focus without giving him the adequate time off.

If you’re ever tired of just laying in bed and need something else to do, join Shouta in the living room. He isn’t for long conversations in the dead of night (or really any time), but he is a warm body and familiar, loving company. He also doesn’t pepper you with questions. If you thought tea would help, you’d try it. Same for any medications or bubble baths. Sometimes, nothing works, and you just need someone to lay with.

Risky behaviors and compulsive comfort-seeking worry him the most. He doesn't doubt your abilities or intelligence. But trauma changes people. It alters a young child’s mind. And the mind does its best to protect itself, convincing itself that sex with this random and possibly dangerous man is a good choice, and drinking till you can't see will make the overwhelming emotions go away, and self-starvation, self-mutilation, drugs, and whatever else you may reach for in a heated moment that will, ultimately, end up harming you, perhaps permanently, is a good thing. He’ll have a hard time letting you go out drinking alone. It isn’t coming from a controlling place. It’s all concern. So, even if he dreads it, he will accompany you out for a night, wanting to see you happy and safe.

He can see, and hates seeing, you cycle through fighting, flighting, and freezing. You’re destructive, punching walls, snapping when he asks a simple question. Then you’re stand-offish, refusing to eat and talk, and avoiding everything you can, willing to swallow a handful of meds to make you sick just so you don’t have to go to work. Then you’re just frozen: stuck in bed, can’t talk through the static swallowing your brain, and navigating the world through autopilot. You hardly realize you’re cycling. You’re only trying to make it through another week however you can.

Don’t let his eternal frown fool you. Shouta worries and worries, especially because he works a lot and doesn’t have the best energy levels. He helps you along even when you try your damnedest to alienate yourself. He isn't your enemy. You aren’t alone. Yet, it can feel like it, even if you aren’t actively thinking it. And you’re stuck in your apartment, in the same dull, daily pattern full of second-guessing and feeling off. He knows you feel abandoned, particularly when he isn’t there physically, and like there isn't a single person out there that could possibly understand what you’re going through. But there is. He does.

Intimacy and bliss can turn into fear and panic in a millisecond, from something so insignificant. It’s dark and cool. You’re on top, riding him slowly, kissing down his jaw, loving how his scruff feels along your cheek. His breath and warmth offset the chill. You whisper, exchanging just how much you love the other as hands never leave your back. Except, fingers press on your lower back, igniting adrenaline to flood, sparking flashes of hands yanking and prying where they shouldn’t. You claw and cry, fumbling off the bed while his hands rake your skin, wresting what you didn’t want to give, what a child shouldn’t have to defend. His eyes and his mouth etched into your brain, always gnawing at the back, fighting to come forward and use you more.

Then rough hands — solid hands are touching you, not prying but comforting, keeping your nails away from your skin. Shouta’s voice is gentle. Protecting you from the outside, his warm, naked body pressed to yours. It was real and safe. Honeyed words breathe over you. And soon, your breaths calm to match his, the tears stop, and you’re exhausted but still sheltered in his arms.

Aizawa x Reader Snippet:

It left your body infested; A hive you only remembered after too many shutdowns, filled with ghosts and wasps. Oil stained your arms in printing palms you never wanted to feel again. It tainted your sides and thighs, smeared what should have been young, clean skin. It could never be washed off. It would never leave you in peace.

But now... now you had to relive the lips on yours, defiling, plundering whatever the hell they wanted, leaving slime and vermin in their wake, infecting your brain with rotted functioning and foul, elusive memories.

It wasn't vacant anymore. It was sounds, no longer fuzzy, but laughing and demanding and directing. And bodily sensations, prickling heat where you never wanted — where you didn't understand. Taking and stealing and abusing and raping-

Your stomach sank. Thighs hardly supported your weight as you fumbled to the toilet. You gagged and spit, but nothing more came up. The damage was done. No voiding or inundating would clear the maggots he left under your skin.

So you crumpled to the floor, in on yourself.

"I remember... I remember him..." you hiccupped, nails digging into your arms. Solid hands overtook phantom ones, smoothing over long-ago sensations that still haunted you. "He to- he touch- he- he- he-"

"You don't need to say it."

"Sho..."

"I understand. I understand," he whispered.

Yagi Toshinori

As with Aizawa, Toshinori is no stranger to many of the symptoms and struggles of PTSD. He’s been through enough bloody battles, horrific injuries, and heinous scenes to last him plenty of lifetimes. He’s just gotten excellent at hiding them after the years of cameras and eyes watching every move he makes. The only true privacy is when he’s in his own home, and even then, he almost feels unsure and scared if he’s allowed to experience them.

Depending on how well you’re able to mask the symptoms and their severity, he might be able to pick up on them before you tell him. Regardless, he’s supportive, accepting, and open, willing to listen to how much or how little you want to talk about, even if it’s a simple sentence with no details whatsoever: I have past trauma. And if there’s ever a time you want to talk about details, he’s there. He won’t call you a faker if you can’t remember everything or even most of it. Memories can be crystal clear, foggy, episodic flashes, or just nothing; none of it means you’re faking.

Whether it was caused by ongoing abuse or one incident, you feel like your life stopped some time ago. You question everything you do, are afraid to say something wrong, wear something wrong, do something wrong. And every day is a struggle, from holding down a job all the way down to ‘simple’ actions like changing clothes. Whatever mistreatment they gave you morphed into ‘tiny’ forms of self-harm, loathing, insecurity, and inhibition, unable to live life as you should.

Toshi sees you blame yourself — hate yourself — as if you, a child at the time, should have known better or dressed differently or told someone, said something, to someone, anyone, and maybe it wouldn't have happened, stopped sooner, or given you some closure. However, it wasn’t your fault. None of it was. None it was ever your fault, and he'd do anything to help you see that. That's what abusers do, turn your brain and body against themselves. He’ll check in often, not prying, only wanting to see how you’re handling the day. If it’s detachment, he can bring home your favorite dinner to stabilize you a little. If it’s anxiety, he’ll call you, distracting you in the meantime.

Big triggers are easy for him to remember. He won’t raise his voice or swing his arms around or be passive-aggressive. Those just aren’t his style. For ‘smaller’ triggers and things that make you uncomfortable, he keeps an eye out for because sometimes, people don’t pick up on things that are provoking. The word 'bitch' may not incite a panicked reaction, but he does notice how you grimace when it's directed at or about you, even if it's a joke. If he feels it’s worth mentioning, he’ll bring it up one night when you’re relaxed. It’s not to put you on the spot. He only wants you to feel reassured and safe with him.

Toshi never makes you feel embarrassed or pathetic for hyperarousal symptoms. You aren't sensitive. Well, you are, but that isn't a bad thing. It doesn’t make you difficult or annoying. Childhood trauma can literally alter the brain’s structure. Having 'greater' or 'heavier' emotional responses isn’t in your control, and he won’t ever talk down to you for it. And hyperarousal constantly works your body rigid. Whenever he sees you too tightly coiled, he’ll massage your shoulders to relax the muscles, asking if you need a distraction or if you want to talk about it.

He doesn’t get frustrated at any ‘overreactions’ to seemingly small stimuli, and he isn’t afraid to say ‘leave it alone’ when someone notices and wants to make a stupid remark. It’s none of their business. Their words aren’t needed. He’ll place a calming hand on your shoulder when a sudden knock startles you a bit too much, letting you know there’s no danger. And when a car horn drops you to your knees while walking, he’ll guide you to a bench so you can gather yourself. He knows it’s frustrating and never wants you to feel like a burden, so he’s always as patient as can be.

The other side of hyperarousal, the side with irritability and outbursts, is hard on Toshi too. He knows your sharp retort wasn’t because of him, but it was directed at him, and it’s hard to take. He won’t snap back. He suggests you take some time to calm down. Even if that statement makes you angrier, as if it’s insinuating your rage isn’t justified after all the shit that’s happened to you, it’s best you do. Once gathered, it’s embarrassing and heartbreaking to realize no, it wasn’t justified, and Toshi didn’t deserve you swearing at him. He’ll always accept your apology and will probably want to cuddle for a bit after, kissing your temple and stroking your back.

The dissociation is terrifying. Derealisation is dreadful. And depersonalization is just downright confusing. People who haven’t experienced these altered states simply can’t relate their oddity. It isn’t some five-minute episode of ‘zoning out’. It’s suddenly waking up, but you’re not in bed; you’re at your desk, working on a paper. The last thing you concretely remember was eating spaghetti for dinner, which you later find out was three days ago. And you’re lost and scared, feeling like you’re hardly holding on to ownership of your own damn body. You can’t remember watching the first half of the movie. But you did. You can’t remember getting groceries. But you did. You can’t remember going to your doctor’s appointment. But you did.

You know you did because Toshi was beside you the entire time, and when you come around again, he’s staring, wondering why you didn’t answer his question or troubled because you forgot about your morning together. It’s just gone. The worry sinks his eyes. That sinks your heart. And you’re both left confused.

He does his best to help navigate the episodes, but they’re difficult for even therapists to understand, so he has plenty of work to do. And don’t feel bad because he wants to. He’s your partner. He cares for you and wants you to feel safe with and dependent on him when you need it. It takes time, understanding, and a lot of patience, but he doesn’t give up.

If there’s a possible trigger, he wants to explore options safely in the hopes of avoiding future episodes. You both come to realize that movie you couldn’t remember had a scene where a woman was slapped, and your mind, tired and unsuspecting, disconnected; the store on the corner has a worker with an eerily similar tone to a past abuser, and your mind detached from the situation; the appointment with your new doctor, a man, stressed you more than you thought, and your mind, once again, separated itself to avoid witnessing harm. He’ll continue keeping an eye out for possible stressors and triggers.

And speaking of doctor’s appointments, Toshi is right beside you for those appointments you dread. New doctor and scared? He’s with you. Anxious and just want support? He’s with you. Pap smears and cervical exams are painful, nearly unbearable, leaving you exposed, fearful, like you’re powerless, which is exactly why you put the visit off for so long, never wanting to feel that again. He goes in and holds your hand the entire time, calmly talking with you and the nurse, making sure you know everything that is going to happen. It’s easy to feel like you’re a victim all over again. But he does all he can so you know you have all the power. He nor the doctor have any. If you need a breather or to stop, you can. You’re in complete control.

Sex is hard to figure out. It doesn’t matter how old or how used to it you are. The sharp ebbs and flows of your sex drive can be a bit difficult on him. Hypersexuality isn’t really a symptom he can help with. His body can only do so much before he’s exhausted. And while he doesn’t mind you taking care of yourself, he feels a little insecure. It’s best for both of you to be honest. He isn’t failing you. Sometimes, your body just needs more while it works through its feelings. On the other hand, losing all interest is also a bit hard. He would never pressure, coerce, or convince you into sex. He misses the closeness — the intimacy — more than anything. Cuddling, naked or clothed, whichever you can handle, is a perfect substitute.

Intrusive thoughts worry him. He’s dealt with them too. They aren’t just impulsive thoughts like people joke about. They’re obsessive, insufferable, incessant images flashing behind your eyelids every single blink. They summon migraines and nausea, throw you off balance, and make you claw at your sides, desperate to get them out.

Some are worse, accompanied by emotional flashbacks, coming when all you want to feel is adoration. Toshi could be as soft and loving as possible, kissing down your stomach to your thighs, gently touching you. Nothing else matters. Yet, one word, one touch, one look brings him back. His eyes, his disgusting fucking eyes glare from between your legs. They're supposed to be blue and bright. But they're red, his tongue scorching your skin, singeing fingerprints on your thighs. Overwhelming helplessness, hopelessness, shame, confusion, and humiliation flood as the red eyes, his body, infest your mind. They’re long gone yet still have such a stronghold on you, never letting you truly move on.

Toshi immediately stops touching you, wrapping a blanket around your naked body as you cry, trying to fight the thoughts. If you need medication, he grabs it. Tea? Your cat? A cold cloth? Whatever you need, he gets, holding you through the wracking flashback. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t let you go, not while you’re fighting yourself so much. He whispers and supports you until you’ve calmed enough to be coherent. Then he’ll gather whatever you need for the rest of the night and lay with you. Feeling his long arms and heavy heartbeat against you helps sleep come just a little easier

[lunasglow]

1. Fabien himself has stated that cole hates himself because he should have been there to protect Helaena. It’s also such an interesting contrast when there’s characters like Erryk, who do care about what their white cloak symbolizes, actually does his duty by not harming anyone in the royal family and ultimately dies against his own brother to stay true to his oaths. Then there’s Cole who leaves his post to be used by Alicent (someone who has used her title as queen and his feelings for her to have him to do what she wants) for pleasure after targeting Rhaenyra and her sons because she wouldn’t go sell oranges with him. Actually, I think you should be a little grateful that the actors and directors interpreted them as lovers when it’s sourced from a dynamic between a child and an adult with the canon line: "Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?"

2. Nothing will change the fact that Alicent has humiliated and hurt Rhaenyra for years, her undue vitriol peddled by her belief that “honor and decency” will prevail against her. She’s taken her children from her, humiliated her on the small council, even stabbed her after her monologue about duty and sacrifice. She’s a hypocrite, and in more ways than one. She works with and protects two murderers (Cole and Larys) and has a hush money routine for her rapist son. Not only that, her vitriol against Rhaenyra is just unjustifiable. Anger that should be reserved for Otto and Viserys is directed towards her instead, someone utterly irrelevant as to why she is unhappy. Calling her a hypocrite is not misogynistic when it’s a baseline truth of who she is as a character, especially when she made Rhaenyra the target of her resentment for years only to backtrack on her own standards. Also, I’ve always been very critical of how the writers have adapted Rhaenyra and Alicent. Coming to terms with the new development but also hating the fact that it was written at all for her show arc are two different matters.

3. you think that men and women are held up to the same moral standards, which is a crazy conclusion to come up with after watching HotD, let alone reading fire and blood. I hardly trust your perception of reality on that fact alone. Contrast after contrast is made between Rhaenyra and the greens. Like the fact that Aegon is considered a worthy claimant despite being a rapist and a drunk, or the fact that Rhaenyras bastards sons were more honorable and beloved than their trueborn counterparts. Your biggest takeaway from this story is that women suffering is good because it’s what’s expected for them to do, and Rhaenyra is bad because she didn’t suffer enough by your standards. Or that having bastards is the worst thing to happen when Aegon leaves his own to rot in poverty. It’s little wonder that you haven’t worked yourself towards the fact that GRRM is criticizing that system that holds women to higher standards/demonizes bastards. An integral theme of many of GRRMs storylines is this status quo is both wrong and often meaningless because of its double standards.

I’d say more, but it’s Sunday! Have fun with your one sided stalking sprees, btw!

HotD presents two individuals who suffer at the hand of the same patriarchal system set to make them suffer when they rebel (Rhaenyra) AND when they're complacent (Alicent). That is the central issue and the tragedy of Alicent's unjust & now hypocritical vitriol towards Rhaenyra.

"Rhaenyra the entitled whore, Alicent the deserving saint" is not only a repulsive mindset and textbook misogyny, it's also so far removed from the point being made by making them parallels in this adaptation. People who buy into it are simply not interacting with the core themes of the story.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

It’s painful to read about the punishment lwj had to endure for betraying his sect. Like I know about all those witty metas on how he got away with it and didn’t even tarnish his reputation and all that. But you know what? I don’t care. That was brutal, cruel, and hurt like hell. I feel bad for him

Hello there, nonny, I am going to repost a past ask I got in regards to this as well as some expansion on my thoughts for this as well:

Personally, with how I thought of it, I don’t think he could ever hold any long standing hate over what was done, he had been the one to say he would take whatever punishment his sect deemed fit in solidarity with Wei Wuxian.

Lan XiChen restrained himself for a moment, but continued on, “Thirty-three whip scars! He was punished in one go, once for every person. You should know how much it hurts when it lands on your body, for how long you have to rest to recover! After he went out of his way to send you back to The Burial Mounds, he returned in such low spirits to receive his punishment, how long he kneeled before the Wall of Discipline! I told him when I went to see him, ‘Wei gongzi has already made a grave mistake, there is no use attempting to rectify it’. But he said… that he could not say with certainty that what you did was right or wrong, but no matter what, he was willing to be responsible for all of the consequences alongside you. They say those years were him reflecting on his mistakes, but in reality he was entirely bedridden. Even so, when he knew of your passing, he still dragged such a body to The Burial Mounds to search on last time, despite everything.”

I think this shows what a direct contrast his view of this punishment was in his eyes next to Jiang Cheng, who always said Wei Wuxian would bring him trouble if he chose to support him. It was his only show of support for a man that had wreaked havoc on lives, but Lan Wangji also couldn’t condemn him for ultimately having tried to do good in the process. He had nothing to resent or hate since in that situation there were faults that happened on all sides. His was as lenient of one as it could be without the Lan Sect condemning him as a traitor and executing him for physically hurting his own Clan, others would have killed on site. His protection of Wei Wuxian was kept hidden and he was allowed full privileges as a Lan teacher and taking a Wen child as a ward. It’s also a callback to how he chose to stand with Wei Wuxian when they had been hit in Cloud Recesses, choosing to share the burden of an incident saying both had been at fault for rule breaking.

But, Lan Wangji also still held a lot of respect for his uncle and brother and didn’t seem to think they had broken any of that in terms of his punishment. They couldn’t have broken a trust in something he had never tried to detail. I think his view of it was that each and every one had been ignorant. He isn’t one to make it hidden when he fully disagrees with others and taking a stand, his way of rebelling is also very quiet in comparison to Wei Wuxian. He did instill more tolerance in his juniors after all to be open to those who are considered strange.

Maybe it is a bit hypocritical of me to try to reason it all this way, as I had grown up in a rather traditional Mexican household that used corporal punishments for small punishments until the more recent generation. And I understand the brimming resentment that can grow from that when it’s shown to not be necessarily fair, I guess, is how I can word it. But, I think for Lan Wangji as a character in the novel, his penchant of love and forgiveness is stronger than whatever anger he could have held at the time, as he chose to break away from that compared to Jiang Cheng and Jin Guangyao. He is just as willing to extend that forgiveness as Wei Wuxian is if there is the chance for others to understand what he is trying to say. In the case of the Lan Sect, I think he held on to the idea of their merits being enough to also accept things eventually slow as it is, but Lan Xichen allowed him to make his own choices, along with Lan Qiren even if he was outwardly disappointed, he did not ever say this aloud in front of strangers. So I think that counts for something in the least over any sort of lingering resentment he may have had to instill change from within his sect over anything else.

Is this punishment supposed to be cruel?

Yes, without a doubt yes. But also remember, the Lans are the only ones who know of this and it was one of their own against them. In any other position Lan Wangji would have been killed otherwise if he was not of such a crucial beloved position within his clan and sect. Any other clan that found him would have killed him as well on spot.

Despite all of this though and knowingly going against his own clans choice and to hurt them from what was seen as a worldwide enemy, he still decided to take Wei Wuxian's side and not regret his own actions without complaint. He knew what was to happen for siding with an enemy to the whole of the rest of the Jianghu that did not believe or trust in Wei Wuxian.

It is unfair, it's meant to feel bad for him at the reveal. He preserved with his love and that's the takeaway from it, he did not choose resentment despite his lose during those 13 years.

[thewingedwolf]

no i genuinely do not understand the greens. their ONLY issue with Rhaenyra is that she’s a woman. that is Literally it. Rhaenyra is competent, was trained to rule, has several powerful allies and has attempted to make peace with the greens Several Times only to be rejected at every turn. her sole crime is getting horny as a 19 year old and asking Cole to fuck her, and instead of actually walking out and saying no he squeals bc she hurt his feelings. meanwhile they got:

aegon the rapist and child murder abetter who, crucially, does not want to be king and does not have intelligent advisors to make up for his failings

larys the kinslayer, who can’t even claim a good reason for it, he just did it bc he disliked daddy and wanted to be lord, AND he’s a weird sexual abuser

criston cole, who has murdered not one but TWO MEN OF NOBILITY, and in the first case flagrantly broke guest right and faced no consequences bc he’s the favorite of Alicent. and once again, his only issue with Rhaenyra is that she doesn’t perform femininity the way he deems proper.

otto hightower, who plotted against his king to get his daughter and then his grandson on the throne AGAINST the will of the king, most of the small council, the lords paramount, and the will of the people, completely throwing the line of succession into chaos, furthering the violent patriarchal hold the nobility have on the peasantry and the women of Westeros, all bc he wanted more power. he’s got all of twyin’s god complex and none of his charisma!!!

alicent, who never wanted any part of any of this and didn’t bother attempting to make peace with Rhaenyra in any sort of genuine way until it was too late and spent the entirety of Aegon’s childhood resenting him for his patriarchal power until she turned herself and her sons into bitter, hateful tyrants. she can’t even tell him she loves him bc she doesn’t!

and the only two even vaguely competent greens, Aemond and Mysaria, who seem to genuinely want what’s good for the realm despite some of their less than savory qualities but have very little real power and are surrounded by the dumbest bitches this side of the narrow sea

WHAT DO THEY HAVE. no intelligence, no good qualities, no compassion, no empathy, just a lot of bitterness and anger. say what you will about daemon but at least he’s like, competent lmao. the greens wanna be the lannisters so bad but they all got the dysfunction and none of the intelligence!! Tywin, Tyrion, Cersei, and Jaime all had their faults and blind spots and those ultimately lead to their downfalls but they were not stupid! You cannot say the same about any of these people except maybe Aemond, who still insists on picking fights with teenagers and then getting upset when they don’t go his way.

Even Consummate Good Guys side with team black!!! Cregan Stark rolled up, took one look at that mess and said “RHAENYRA GET ON THE DRAGON WE ARE GOING GREEN HUNTING” AND HES RIGHT!! Listen to the Starks! They are always correct!!!!

Except Helaena she’s a gem and we’re all thrilled to have her here