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Mel had never spent a lot of time dating—between her schooling, and Becca, and their parents it was never a priority, and any relationships she had were over quite quickly anyway. 

She saw glimpses of you on her first day at PTMC—running from room to room, never spending too much time in one place, always answering another page or the call of your last name. She hadn’t even had the chance to introduce herself, but she was infatuated. 

You’re absolutely stunning, probably the prettiest person she’s ever laid eyes on. Not only that, but you’re also ridiculously smart, which she learned as she spent more time with you. It shows in the way you do your job, the jokes you make, and your indescribable ability to always say the right thing at the right time. 

Her crush was practically unbearable, and the fact that you seemed to constantly end up near her whenever you were in the department made it much worse. She even started to wonder if you were flirting with her, but then the entire hospital learned that you and Dennis had been dating for years. 

It reinforced what she had already assumed—you were not into her, you never had been, and you never would be. 

You proved her wrong during a cold, dreary shift in the middle of November.

“Dr. King,” You greet, sliding down onto the chair at the workstation beside hers, tapping your badge to the sensor. “You crushed that chest tube back there, perfect technique.”

Mel looks away from her computer, fingers going still over the keyboard, her heart pounding in her ears. 

“Oh, thank you,” She says. “You—you were great, too.”

“I didn’t even do anything, but that’s sweet,” You say, a mesmerizing smile crossing your features as you lean against the back of your chair, spinning to face her. “How do you keep your hair so neat during these shifts? Mine ends up looking like a rat’s nest by hour six.”

Mel blinks, pressing the ‘a’ key a few times to keep her hands busy. “I just put it in a braid.”

“Yeah, right, I see that,” You say, still smiling. “You don’t use any product or anything?”

She shakes her head. “No, most cosmetic products give me hives.”

She grimaces after the admission, realizing how unsexy the statement is. She’s trying to figure out a way to take it back when you laugh, making her look at you again, the sight otherworldly. 

“That sucks,” You say. “Some of them bother me too, I usually use unscented stuff.”

“Really?” Mel asks. You nod, glancing towards your computer for a second, pulling up the chart you need to finish before you can go home. You return your attention to her once it’s open. 

“Do you wear it in the braid outside of work?” You ask, wheeling a little closer to her, eyeing the blonde braid that cascades down her back. 

“Sometimes,” She says. “My hair being in my face usually, uhm, annoys me? But it’s not always in a braid. I can do a ponytail, too.”

She’s not sure if that’s supposed to impress you or what, but she regrets the words as soon as she’s said them. She closes her eyes, shaking her head as she brings both hands up to the back of her neck, feeling how hot her skin is. She expects you to make fun of her, like most people would, but you don’t. 

“I bet you can,” You say, no hint of sarcasm or teasing in your tone. “I’d love to see it.”

“What?” Mel asks, her eyes widening. 

“You in a ponytail,” You elaborate. “Probably looks really good.”

“It’s just a ponytail,” She counters, looking back at her keyboard, pressing a random button a few more times, adding a string of r’s to the line of a’s that’s already there, the whole thing reading ‘eFAST positive for left-sided pneumoaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrr.’

You squint, the conversation going exactly how your others with Mel have gone—you flirting in a workplace-appropriate manner, and her completely missing the fact that you’re down fucking bad for her. 

“Hey, do you have plans after work?” You ask, not caring who around you hears the question. 

She backspaces, deleting the letters and finishing the word ‘pneumothorax.’ “No, not really. Do you?”

“There’s nothing in my fridge that I want for dinner,” You say. “I was gonna’ stop and grab food at this little place I like, would you wanna’ come?”

Mel hesitates, her brain freezing momentarily at the invite. “Get dinner…with you?”

“Yeah,” You say, casually. “Do you drive?”

“Uhm, yes?” She says. 

“You can meet me there, then, if you want,” You add. “It’s a really chill place, basically a diner.”

Mel finds herself nodding before she can fully process the plan, the idea of getting dinner with you both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying, even if it’s platonic. She can’t say no, that would be the dumbest thing she’s ever done.

“Okay, sure,” She says, perking up a bit, smiling at you. “I…would…like to do that.”

“Cool,” You say, smiling back. Her hands go numb. “It’s a date.”

You pass Dennis on your way to pack up your stuff, sticking your arm out and grabbing his bicep. He stops walking, lips curving into a smile, eyes soft at the sight of you. 

“Hey, heading home?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “No, I won’t be home until later—I’m getting dinner. With Dr. King.”

Dennis hums, his smile growing. “Finally.”

“What?” You ask, almost laughing. 

“You’ve been flirting with her for months,” He says. “You finally made a real move.”

You glare at him, folding your arms over your chest. “Hard to cross the Rubicon when she doesn’t even realize there’s a river.”

Dennis raises an eyebrow. “...what?”

You huff. “You know, the Rubicon River? Julius Caesar?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, she’s gonna’ love you.”

“You suck,” You say, reaching over and pushing his shoulder. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Bring me leftovers,” He says, starting to walk backwards away from you, wanting to get ready to head home for the day. He mouths ‘love you’ before he turns around, disappearing into the department and leaving you alone in the hallway. 

The first time you bring Mel back to your apartment is a few weeks later, after your fourth date. Dennis is at work, since it’s only late afternoon, giving you at least a couple hours until he’s back. 

She watches you kick your shoes off at the door, tossing them aside without much thought and hanging your bag up on one of the hooks before heading towards the kitchen. She copies your actions, slightly more careful, taking a second to line her shoes up beside a pair of Dennis’ sneakers before following you. You’re standing in front of the fridge, scanning the shelves for something to drink, still trying to warm up from the crisp air outside. You pull a bottle out, setting it on the counter before looking at Mel. 

“You want something?” You ask, nodding your head towards the fridge. She shuffles over so she can see better, reaching for a bottle herself, catching your eyes as though she’s asking for permission. You nod, closing the fridge and leaning back against the counter. 

Mel looks around, taking in your apartment. “I like your place.”

“Thanks,” You say, already making your way towards the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She sits beside you, asking a few questions about your decor and plants, all of them making you smile.

You’re talking about a patient you had a few days prior when her eyes clamp shut, one hand taking her glasses off as the other touches her right eye, holding it open. 

“Something in your eye?” You ask. She nods, humming in affirmation. You shift towards her on the couch, leaning over. “Let me see.”

She drops her hand, turning to face you instead, letting you examine her eye. You have her look in various directions for a few seconds, but you don’t see anything, and the sensation dissipates. 

“I think it’s gone,” She says, blinking a few more times for good measure. You don’t move to sit back on the opposite side of the couch—if anything you move closer. 

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, hovering a few inch away from her lips, one hand supporting you as you bend, positioning yourself almost on top of her. She stumbles with her answer for a second, swallowing thickly before nodding.

“Uhm, yes, yeah, absolutely,” She says, stuttering over the words. You smile as you close the gap, bringing your free hand up to the back of her neck, your thumb tracing over her jaw. You don’t properly kiss her right away, your bottom lips simply touching for a second. Your grip tightens, and Mel feels her thighs clench beneath her jeans. She can smell the subtle scent of your chapstick—sweet and intoxicating. Her breath hitches, hands ghosting over your exposed hips, your shirt riding up. 

Your lips connect a moment later, both of you moving slowly, stretching out the moment. Mel’s heart slams against her ribcage, her hands starting to go numb from the sensation. She takes hold of your hips gently, fingers curling into your skin and pulling you closer. You don’t protest, instead slipping your hand into her hair, getting tangled in the blonde locks. 

The feeling of your lips on hers makes her woozy, goosebumps prickling up her arms despite the wave of heat that thrums against her skin. You drag your knee up, slotting it between her thighs, nudging them apart. You slow down, pulling back, eyes flicking over her face. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, but she barely processes the question, desperate to feel more of you. She just nods, sliding her hands under your shirt and bringing you back in, reconnecting your lips with more fervour than the first time. You press your knee against her, eliciting a small gasp, one that only breaks the contact for half a second. 

You drop your hand from her hair to the bottom of her t-shirt, your fingers grazing her stomach before you push farther, finding her chest. You press your thumb into her nipple, sending a fresh wave of desire through her stomach and thighs. She tightens her legs on either side of you, making your knee shift, putting more pressure on her crotch. She winces, humming at the sensation. You go still, relieving the pressure off her chest and breaking the kiss. She whines before she can even think, the only thing on her mind the lack of contact. Embarrassment floods her cheeks, dusting them the shade of pink that you love bringing out so much.

“I—uh, sorry,” She stammers, dropping her hands from your sides. “I didn’t…uhm…mean to make that noise.”

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow, biting back a smile. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Oh,” She says, averting her eyes to her lap, trying to get her face too cool down. “I-okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You promise. “Do you wanna’ stop?”

“No!” She exclaims. “No, definitely not.”

You actually smile this time, nodding. You lean back, brushing your fingers across the waistband of her jeans, stopping over the button. You look up, making eye contact, waiting for the small nod that she gives before undoing it, tugging the zipper open too. You grab either side of them as she lifts herself up a little, letting you pull them down her thighs. You don’t stop until they’re completely off, tossing them onto the floor, then you let yourself focus on the black panties she’s wearing. You clench your jaw at the sight of the lace, trailing your fingers up her thighs until you reach them, looping around the fabric and tugging gently. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” Mel interrupts, watching your movements closely. You take a second to admire her legs, the way her veins criss-cross under the skin, only visible where the sun hits. She shudders under your gaze, lifting herself up again when you start to pull her panties down, discarding them on the floor beside her jeans. You pull a hair tie off your wrist, holding it between your teeth as you gather your hair behind your head. Mel’s brain goes completely silent other than one thought—

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.

Your arms flex as you loop the hair tie around a few times, already leaning down before you’ve finished securing it. Your hands land on her shins, pushing her legs up so her knees are bent. She lets them fall open, making you smirk. 

“Good,” You murmur, switching your grip to hold the back of her thighs, lowering yourself even more. Her thighs already feel weak, a tremor rushing through them the second your tongue makes contact with her clit with a single swipe, the sensation gone as quickly as it came. She whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut, grabbing the couch beneath her hands. 

You duck down again, putting your lips around her, sucking gently and flicking the tip of your tongue up and down. She shivers, her head dropping back as she moans, the sound hitting you directly in the stomach, amplifying the desire that’s already coiling. 

You go slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm her or do anything she doesn’t like. You alternate between flicking and pressing your tongue flat against her, the action pulling moans and whine from her each time you do it. You bring your hand up once it’s obvious how wet she is, carefully sliding two fingers inside, moaning into her when she cries out with pleasure. 

Your fingers curl inside of her, pressing into her walls while your tongue continues swirling around her clit, her legs starting to shake against your head. You slide your free hand up, finding one of hers and lacing your fingers together, setting them on her stomach. She tightens her grip on you, raising her hips when you pull your fingers out and pump them back inside. You can feel your own muscles growing weaker with each sound she makes, a harmony of whines and moans accompanying your movements, making you whimper. The vibration puts Mel right on the edge, desperately rocking her hips in time with your fingers. 

You feel her tighten around your hand, thighs pressing into your skull, muffling your hearing. She’s loud enough that you can still hear her, and you glance up towards her face, your eyes rolling at the sight of her leaning back, chest heaving. Her nipples poke at the thin fabric of her shirt, the sun painting her neck and face, giving you a fantastic view of her expression. Her mouth is half-open, eyes scrunched with focus as she gets closer. 

She still holding your hand tightly, practically cutting off the bloodflow to your fingers, but you don’t care. All you can think about is getting her off. 

Her mind is simultaneously empty and going a million miles an hour, wondering if she should let you know that no one has ever made her come before, or if she should just fake it to avoid hurting your feelings. The thoughts are interrupted anytime she gets close to making a decision, another pulse shooting through her, coiling tighter in her stomach. You start to slow down about ten minutes after she first clenched around you, snapping her out of the loop, her eyes falling on you, still between her legs. 

She’s about to say something when you pull your fingers out, the evidence of her arousal all over them, expecting you to be frustrated with how long this is taking. Your eyes flick towards her, a tiny smile on your face, the words dying on her tongue. You touch her swollen clit with the two fingers that were just inside of her, pressing hard. She jumps, far more sensitive than usual after getting eaten out for god knows how long. It feels like a jolt of electricity shreds through her, pushing her into a place that she’s never been—not even on her own. You shift your hand as you slowly come towards her face, keeping the pressure on her and attaching your mouth to her nipple. 

“Oh,” She breathes. “Oh my god.”

You leave marks across her chest, then you rest your forearm beside her head, tucking your face by hers, nipping the side of her neck. She moans again, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, abs tensed and hands dug into your sides. Your breath is hot on her neck and ear as you pant, still pressing circles into her clit, each loop more dizzying than the last. 

“I’ve got you, Mel,” You murmur, kissing her earlobe and taking it between your teeth. She gasps, the orgasm finally cresting and spilling over, her hips rolling erratically and chest flailing with frantic breaths. You don’t stop touching her until she sighs, movements slowing once the orgasm has passed. You lift your fingers off her clit carefully, kissing her neck a few times, propping yourself up more so you’re directly above her. 

She’s still catching her breath, eyes dazed and heavy. “I—that’s never—I’ve never…”

She trails off, but you know where she’s going, your eyebrows lifting in slight surprise. 

“Ever?” You ask. She shakes her head, breathing hard. 

“Not with…another person,” She explains. You can’t help the way that goes straight to your head, your lips curving into a cocky smirk. 

“Want me to do it again?” 

For weeks after that all Mel can think about is you. Your presence becomes even more distracting in the ER, at times making her have to leave a room if you’re in it, taking a breather in the bathroom to get herself together. It’s worse when Dennis is there too, his face unchanging, but his eyes follow her through the doors, knowing exactly what she’s thinking about. 

As time goes by things get…blurry between the three of you. 

Dennis isn’t really involved at first—the two of you spending time at Mel’s apartment or taking advantage of him being at work whenever possible. A few times he comes home while she’s still there, but he makes himself scarce, and Mel usually leaves shortly after he gets back. 

The first time she spends the night is unexpected, and Dennis is the one who initiates it.

You’re standing in front of the board with her three months after your first date, watching the name of your most recent patient disappear as he’s wheeled towards the ICU. Mel rubs sanitizer into her hands, squinting a little, deciding which patient to see next while building up the courage to say something to you. 

“Do…are you busy tonight?” She asks, rocking back on her heels. 

“I have plans, yeah,” You say. “Dennis is going out with Santos and Javadi, so I was gonna’ have a few friends over.”

“Oh,” She says. “Right, yeah, that sounds fun.”

You turn to her, already smiling, the reflection of the fluorescent hospital lights somehow dazzling in your eyes. “Do you wanna’ come?”

She falters for a second, having already accepted the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing you tonight, her brain rewiring to make sense of the invite. 

“Re—really?” She stutters.

You nod. “Yeah, I’d love it if you were there.”

“Who, uhm, who’s going?”

“Emma, Joy, Vivi,” You list. “Maybe Garcia if she gets off at a normal time.”

Mel can’t help the confusion that crosses her face, brows furrowing. 

“That’s—you’re all…friends?” She asks, and you laugh, touching your hand to her bicep. She looks at it, hearing her heart start to pound in her ears. 

“Yeah, seems like a weird group, I know,” You say. “But it’s really fun, I swear.”

“Okay,” She says, nodding. “They wouldn’t mind?”

“You being there?” You ask. “No, not at all. Just come to mine whenever you’re done here, yeah?”

She spends most of the night wondering how much your friends know about your relationship, unable to determine if they’re just super cool or have no idea that you’ve fucked her time and time again on the couch that they’re sitting on. People start to slowly file out after a few hours, leaving you and Mel alone. 

She doesn’t know exactly what she expects—for you to make a move, maybe—so she subconsciously braces herself to let you down, too exhausted from her shift to even think about sex right now. You come back to the couch after bidding your friends goodnight, sighing as you sit, grabbing the remote off the coffee table on your way down. 

You turn the TV on, opening one of the streaming applications. “I’m kinda’ in the mood for a romcom, do you have a favourite?”

She hums, thinking. “No, not really. I haven’t seen very many.”

“A lot of great options, then,” You say, scrolling through the genre, landing on one of your favourites. You toss the remote away from you, pulling a throw blanket off the back of the couch, curling into her side without a second thought. Mel goes rigid, carefully adjusting her body so you’re more comfortable, holding her hands up, unsure what to do with them.

“Is this…would Dennis be okay with this?” She asks. You lift your head up, nodding.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he be?”

She shrugs. “I just…I know this is casual, and-“

“Cuddling can be casual,” You say, smiling a bit. “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course,” She says.

“Great,” You say. “You don’t have to keep your hands up, you know.”

“Oh, right,” She says, setting on hand on your thigh and the other in her lap.

Dennis comes home towards the end of the movie, quietly, not wanting to disturb you or whatever friends are still in your living room. Mel slowly comes to at the sound of the door clicking shut, blinking a few times, feeling the weight of you on top of her. Her arm is wrapped around your waist, your head on her chest, legs and blankets a tangled mess. She adjusts her glasses, looking up when she hears soft footsteps, finally getting her bearings when Dennis comes into view, pausing when he sees the two of you. 

“Oh, hey,” He says, quietly. “She passed out?”

Mel’s shocked by how truly casual it is. “Yeah, yes, I think so.”

“You want me to take her?” He asks. “You’re a little…trapped.”

She doesn’t, and Dennis picks up on the hesitation, smiling when her eyes fall on you again. 

“I don’t have to,” He adds. “If—if you’re comfortable.”

“I am,” She says. “But she should probably sleep in a real bed.”

“She crashes on the couch all the time,” He says, laughing softly, waving her off. “Can never make it to the end of a movie.”

“I can,” You grumble, grabbing hold of Mel’s shirt, not bothering to open your eyes. “I just don’t want to.”

She flinches, frowning. “Did we wake you up?”

“Mhm,” You hum, eyes still closed, tucking your head into her neck. “But it’s okay, you probably wanna’ get home, right?”

Dennis sees the same hesitation on her face as you sit up. 

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want,” He says. You smile to yourself, looking down at her. 

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t mean to kick you out,” You say. “Do you wanna’ stay?”

She thinks for a moment, then nods. “If that’s…allowed.”

You laugh under your breath. “Yeah, it’s—it’s allowed.”

She starts spending even more time at your place after that, whether Dennis is home or not. It becomes routine for her to come over after all of you work the same shift, cooking dinner together or ordering in if it was a particularly rough day. A third toothbrush joins yours and Dennis’ in the cup on your bathroom counter, a few pairs of scrubs and changes of clothes fill a drawer you emptied out, her favourite mug finds it’s way into your cabinet. You eventually just give her a key, claiming it’s for ‘emergencies,’ which she takes very literally. 

You and Dennis are off for the day, and she promised Becca that she’d pick her up after her shift so they could get dinner, meaning she won’t see either of you for the entire day. She stops by her place for the first time in a few days once she’s off, reaching for a lightswitch as she steps inside, flicking it up. She frowns when nothing happens, turning it off and on again, but the darkness persists. 

She realizes how cold it is once she closes the door behind her, a shiver running down her spine despite the massive coat she’s wearing. She walks into the living room, reaching for one of her lamps, turning the knob until she hears the ‘click,’ but it doesn’t turn on. 

“Oh,” She mutters, digging her phone out of her pocket and turning the flashlight on. She opens the breaker panel on the wall, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, but toying with a few of them anyway. Neither of the lights blink to life, but she can see her breath curling in the beams of the flashlight. Her eyes widen with the realization that her heating system is electric, meaning it’s been off for however long her power has been out—in the middle of December.

She’s outside your apartment an hour later, after her landlord lets her know that it’ll take at least twenty-four hours to fix the problem and get her apartment back up to a livable temperature. She called both you and Dennis on her way over, neither of you picking up. She toys with the key in her hand, debating whether or not this is actually emergent or not, still unaware that you definitely hadn’t meant what you said and that she was welcome to come over anytime. She eventually gathers the courage to unlock the door after knocking a few times, wondering if you’re even home.

“Hello!” She calls, not wanting to catch either of you offguard. “Sorry for barging in, I tried calling, but, uhm-”

She stops when she doesn’t hear any kind of response, slipping her shoes off and walking farther inside. Your keys and jackets are hung up by the door and there’s a few lights on, suggesting you’re both home, but you’re not in the living room or kitchen. The sound of the shower running becomes apparent once she’s closer to the bedroom, the door slightly open. She knocks before pushing it open, moments away from saying your name when she’s interrupted. 

“Oh my god, fuck, please.”

It’s you, your voice unmistakeably desperate and pleading, the same way it sounds when she buries her face between your thighs until you can’t think straight. Desire slams into her stomach, heat crawling up her neck and blooming across her face. She closes her eyes, trying to overcome the arousal so she can figure out what exactly she should do in this situation. 

She could wait until you’re done, but it feels like an invasion of your privacy to simply…listen to Dennis fuck you without your knowledge. She should interrupt, but the idea of that is almost painful, the awkwardness of the rest of the night playing out in her mind. A moan echoes off the walls followed by a series of whimpers, making her breath hitch. Her hand lands against the door softly, her actions uncharacteristic and amative as she slowly pushes it open. 

Steam sticks to her glasses immediately, and she quickly slides them up to the top of her head. The glass door of the shower is fogged, but she can still catch glimpses of the two of you. You’re pressed against the back wall, face blissful over Dennis’ shoulder, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His back muscles ripple as he holds you upright, thrusting up rhythmically, each motion eliciting a moan from you. 

He yanks you closer to him with the next thrust, making you gasp, your eyes opening in surprise. Horror crosses your expression for a split second, but it’s quickly replaced with an amused look, your head tilting slightly. Dennis notices the change, looking over his shoulder, seeing Mel standing there. 

She startles, grabbing hold of the door knob, already starting to pull it shut when she speaks. 

“I, uh, I’m so sorry,” She says. “I didn’t want to scare you, sorry, I’ll just—I’ll be in the living room.”

You talk before the door can click shut. “Mel, wait.”

She grimaces, poking her head back in. “Yeah?”

“You just got off work, you don’t want to shower?”

Her apartment basically becomes a formality after that.

Trinity’s birthday party is technically an open invite, but Mel is still a little surprised when she explicitly asks the blonde if she’s coming, extending a personal invitation on top of the text message that was sent to practically every group chat imaginable. She was already planning on going, since you and Dennis would be there, but the small action makes her feel like she’s welcome regardless of her close relationship with the two of you. Not that anyone knows you’re anything more than friends. 

She’s already there by the time you arrive, since she had the day off and you didn’t. You spot her in the living room easily, dropping onto the couch beside her, smiling wide. She automatically bends towards you, moving so she can see your face better, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of you—like always. 

“Hey,” You greet, tucking your legs up beneath you. 

“Hi,” She says, smiling back, clasping her hands together and resting them on her lap. “How was your shift?”

“You know, the usual,” You say. “It was actually pretty quiet, which was nice.”

She nods. “Yeah, that is nice.”

“You look nice,” You say, admiring the way her hair falls around her shoulders. “You know I love when you have your hair down.”

“Oh,” She says, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. “Thanks, uhm, thank you.”

“What’d you do with your day off?” You ask, shifting your knee over, knocking hers with it a few times. “Anything exciting?”

She hums. “No, not really. I did laundry and went grocery shopping.”

“Oh, you’re an angel, we haven’t had groceries in weeks,” You say, touching her knee again, but this time you don’t pull it away. She glances down, her mind buzzing at the contact. You’re not looking at her anymore, instead taking in everyone else. “Santos didn’t skimp on the guest list, hey?”

“I guess not,” Mel says, turning to look over her shoulder at the sound of someone coming down the stairs. You look too, grinning when you see Dennis, hopping to your feet and meeting him at the bottom. Mel follows, not sure what else to do in the sea of people in Trinity’s living room. 

“Hey,” He says, smiling softly as he steps onto the landing. “When’d you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago,” You say, sliding two fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulling him close, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Santos up there?”

“Yeah, she’s freaking out over the idea of Garcia not showing up,” He explains, glancing towards Mel. “Sorry for leaving you alone down here.”

“It’s fine,” She says, quickly dismissing the apology. 

“Garcia’s coming,” You say. “I talked to her earlier, said she’d be here whenever she got off. Even said she was ‘looking forward to it.’”

“You wanna’ go tell Trinity that?” He asks, slightly exasperated. “She’s losing it.”

“I think she told me in confidence,” You counter, moving to wrap your arms around his neck. “So keep your lips sealed.”

“Make me,” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you again. Mel looks away, a blush spreading up her chest and neck. You smile against his lips, only pulling back when you hear someone clap him on the shoulder, making you separate. 

“Get a fucking room,” Trinity says, coming down the stairs with Victoria behind her. She says your name in greeting, offering an uncharacteristic smile along with it. 

“Hey, happy birthday!” You exclaim, releasing Dennis to pull her in for a hug. Dennis looks towards Mel again, giving her a reassuring look. 

“You want a drink?” He asks, and she nods quickly. 

“Yes, please,” She says. He walks off to the kitchen, leaving her with you, Trinity and Victoria. She naturally takes a step back, assuming you don’t want her involved in your conversation, but you reach back without even looking at her. You casually—so casually—bring her back over, letting her take the spot beside you in the small circle. 

The four of you move to the living room, taking any free seats around the room. You sit on the floor, and Mel sits too, bringing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. You touch her thigh for a second, squeezing it quickly before returning your hand to your own lap. Dennis stops infront of the two of you, passing both of you drinks, the tops already off. 

“Thank you,” Mel says, whereas you just smile. He sits on your other side, leaning back on his hands. She takes a sip, trying to keep herself from staring at you as much as she can. 

There’s various conversations overlapping in the room, and the music playing in the background is making her head spin ever so slightly. You lean away from Dennis, putting your lips close enough to her ear that you won’t have to shout. 

“Most people are just dropping by for a drink or two, it’ll just be a few of us in a bit,” You say. She nods, glancing at you for a second, then returning her gaze to the spot on the carpet she was looking at. Dennis leans forward, poking his head around your frame. 

“You okay?” He asks, and she nods again. “We can go out back if you want to, just say the word.”

“I’m okay,” She insists. 

You slide your bracelet—a stretchy, beaded one that your niece made you—off your wrist, holding it out to her. She takes it without hesitation, twisting it around her fingers, the same way she has so many times before. You watch her toy with it for a few moments, fondness swirling in your chest. 

Trinity suggests a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ once some people have cleared out, leaving a smaller group of you behind. A few people protest at the ‘childish’ game, but everyone agrees to participate. The questions start off relatively tame, but they slowly get more and more chaotic as time goes on. You only have one finger left by the seventh round, almost convinced people are trying to get you out on purpose at this point. 

“Uhm,” Victoria hums, looking around the circle, squinting to see how many fingers everyone is still holding up. 

“Hey, no targeting,” Trinity says.

“No, I know,” She insists. “Uh, never have I ever…had a threesome?”

Trinity lowers a finger, taking a sip of her drink as she does. 

“I’m out, then,” You say, copying her actions with your pinky, tipping your drink towards your mouth. Various exclamations of shock come from the group, making you laugh, setting the now-empty bottle on the coffee table. 

“You’ve had a threesome?” Garcia asks. “You’ve been in a serious relationship since you were like, twenty.”

“Twenty-one,” You correct. “But yeah, I’ve had a few.”

“Like…more than one?” Victoria asks. “In college, or whatever?”

“Hang on,” Trinity says. “You’ve had a threesome and I never heard about it? I told you I had a threesome after like, three months of knowing you!”

“That was your personal choice,” You tease, leaning back into the couch, shrugging. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Did you put a finger down too?” Victoria asks, looking towards Dennis, who shrinks into himself a little. 

“I, uh, yeah,” He says. 

“Do you guys have threesomes together?” Trinity questions, smirking as she leans closer, this newfound information blowing her mind. 

Dennis’ face goes red, but you just shrug, glancing towards him with a slight smile on your face. You’re past tipsy now, but you’d probably share the same amount of information sober. 

“Yep,” You say. 

“Oh my god,” Victoria says, blinking rapidly, sitting back on her feet. Trinity chuckles, raising her drink a little. 

“Never would’ve fucking seen that coming,” She says. “Huckleberry’s freakier than I thought.”

“It’s not that freaky,” Dennis counters, his face still burning. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Trinity says, glancing around the room as she tries to think of what to ask next. Her gaze lands on Mel’s hand, which has barely moved all game, slightly lower now than it was before. “Wait, Mel, didn’t you have four fingers up?”

Mel flinches, pulling her top lip between her teeth. “Uh-huh.”

“Melissa fucking King,” Trinity says. “You’ve had a threesome?”

She nods in response. The shock that ripples through the group is ten times what it was for you, disbelief evident in their voices. 

“When?” Trinity pushes. 

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” You say, giving her an escape. She looks at you with wide eyes. “I think some mystery would do us all some good, actually. This group has a disturbing affinity for gossip.”

“I wouldn’t call it disturbing,” Trinity argues. “It's…enthusiastic.”

Victoria is still gobsmacked, her mouth opening and closing. Mateo puts a hand on her shoulder, his face bright with amusement, trying to bring her back. Emma and Joy watch everything from the chair in the corner of the room, staying absolutely silent. Emma’s expression matches Mel’s, slightly confused and a little anxious. Joy looks absolutely delighted.

“I thought you didn’t like dating,” Victoria finally says. 

Mel shrugs, nerves still evident. 

“She never said she was dating them,” Trinity counters. “Are you dating them?”

She shrugs again. “I—I don’t-”

“Okay, come on,” You say, interrupting. You’re well aware that Mel is more than capable of standing up for herself, but you can see the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out what to say in response. “Why don’t you tell us about your threesome, Trinity?”

She sighs dramatically, putting her elbows on her knees, leaning forward. She feigns a fond reminiscence, drawing another laugh out of the group. 

“Gladly,” She says. “It was my freshman year of college-”

You and Mel are in the kitchen a couple hours later, rinsing out cans and bottles in the sink, tossing them into the recycling bin in Trinity’s pantry. You come up behind her at one point, setting a hand on her hip, kissing her shoulder. 

“You alright?” You murmur. She nods, rinsing the last can and drying her hands off on a towel. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” She says. “I didn’t think anyone would notice I put a finger down.”

You hum, letting go of her and closing the pantry door. “They’re vultures, it’s not your fault.”

The tone is teasing, making Mel smile. She steps back from the counter, turning around to face you, hands clasped together. You, like always, read her like a book. 

“I think I’m ready to head out,” You say. She perks up, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, me too,” She says. “I could uh—I could give you a ride?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, face completely neutral. It was a little hard for Mel to tell when you were kidding around at first, but now she’s basically an expert in your sense of humour. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

She ducks her head down, looking towards the floor, her smile growing. “I think I can make it work.”

“As long as it’s not too far out of your way,” You add, unable to keep yourself from smiling, too. “Let’s go get Dennis.”

She parks where she always does in front of your building. Dennis makes three mugs of tea without asking. The three of you brush your teeth side by side in the bathroom, easily moving around each other. You sandwich yourself between Mel and Dennis on the bed, looking like a pack of sardines, wishing both of them goodnight before Dennis turns the light off.

And it's all completely casual.

...

Right?

A/N - i honestly...don't love this and was tempted to do a complete rewrite but i haven't posted in so long i decided to post it anyway! love u guys mwah happy saturday <3

tags:

honestly, if you were any sort of smart, you would have told him to fuck off a loooooong time ago. even if you did, you’re sure he probably wouldn’t have listened. that’s just the type of guy he was.

he really wasn’t always like this. he was sweet. protective in the way that made your other friends joke about how he was “in love with you”. you laughed it off. then again, you weren’t dating as much as you were now.

it started with a guy from your gym. he was alright looking. not really your type but he seemed nice when he came up to you to ask for your number. you usually wouldn’t give it out to some random guy but .. it’s been awhile to say the least.

after texting every so often, he asked you out. cute little hole in the wall restaurant for lunch. you said yes .. even if it could have been planned better.

that day, jack had texted you if you wanted to hang out around lunch time. maybe check out the new coffee place by your house you said you’ve been wanting to try.

cant. big mama’s got a date😈

something about reading that created a pit in his stomach. he didn’t respond for a little bit. tried to focus on something else. he couldn’t understand what had him so upset about this. what he did understand was that he could not let this happen.

when lunchtime came, he placed his house key on his kitchen table, walked outside and shut the door. he pulled his phone out, hitting your phone number.

“jack?” you answer after the first ring.

“hey, sugar,” he says in the most fake sincere voice. “i’m sorry, i know you’re on a date. i just locked myself out. robby’s on, you’re the only other person who’s got one. anyway you can come here?”

he hears you sigh, a small malicious smile growing on his face knowing he’s got you.

“..you can’t just like.. walk around a bit until i’m done?”

“i would but i left the stove on. i’m sorry.”

he wasn’t sorry.

when you showed up, he couldn’t help but eye you up and down. you were wearing some cute casual dress that your tits were nearly pooling out of. he quickly fixed his face, giving you a smile.

“you look nice. sorry i had to steal ya.”

you shrug, pulling his spare key out of your bag and unlocking his door. “eh. he was kinda boring anyways. jobless. mama’s boy. you kinda saved me.”

jack laughed, having a bit of a smug look on his face. he liked the sound of that. jack abbot. your savior.

“i thought you said the stove was on?” he hears you say which makes his head snap up. whoops. his mistake !

this became the norm. whenever you had a date, it was like clockwork. popped tire, lost his wallet, forgot his lucky stethoscope at home.

it was so fucking annoying on your end, but on his side, he got to see your pretty little grumpy face that you dolled up for some other guy.

and as time passed, he started to creep even himself out.

when you two sat on the couch together to watch a movie, he covered you two in the same blanket, letting you lean into him. when you left your phone behind to use the bathroom, he checked it. deleted other guys’ numbers and texts. stalked your instagram dms. blocked whoever he didn’t like. acted stupid when you pointed it out.

he really scared himself once he started stealing your panties. it was only one at first. really quick. snatched it up and shoved it into his pocket before you could even blink. he didn’t even realize what he was doing until he did it.

when he got home he felt disgusting about it. took it out and placed it on his bed. paced around a bit. he felt even worse about it once he wrapped the fabric around his cock and started moaning your name.

he was a dirty old man. what kind of guy is best friends with a girl so much younger than him? what kind of guy steals her panties and dirties them with his load?

it all came to a peak when he sat on your bed, watching you get ready for some sleazebag who asked you out right in front of him. practically ignored him. probably thought he was your dad.

he couldn’t control himself! when you spun around in that tiny little dress of yours, asked how you looked, it was like a reflex. grabbed your hips from behind, squeezing the fatty part he found.

the sick part of him reveled in the way you jumped and squealed at the touch. but you didn’t push him away. even when he pushed you over your bed, pressing his hips against your ass.

“fuckin’ stupid- fuck-“ jack slurs out with every snap of his hips. “gooood, you’re so fuckin’ tightttt- oh my god..”

your mascara was starting to smear from your face being pushed into the mattress. he didn’t even have the curtesy or patience to take your dress off. just pushed your panties to the side and pushed his mushroom tip riiiiiiight in.

“bet he’s outside waiting..” he moaned, his hand hitting your ass cheek with a smack. “thought i was your dad- fuck.. fuck, that jackass.. wonder if he’ll see through the window.. mm, yeah, you’d like that? your boy toy watchin’ pops fuck you deep? ahh- mhm.. yeah, baby.. lemme hear it..”

you whine, pushing yourself back into him. talk about willpower. you should have slapped him away minutes ago. inside, you were waiting for this.

“mm.. daddy, ah- please, please don’t stop…”

“don’t worry, baby.. daddy’s right here.. your old man’s got you, ‘kay? good girl..”

once he spilled his seed right in your messy pussy, he stuck his fingers in to keep any of it from coming out. made sure to plug it in nice and deep. he straightened your panties out, stuffing them a big into the hole, soaking them with the nice little combination.

the knock rung at the front door, only him being able to perceive it. he helps you up, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to fix up your makeup. your eyes were all loopy, legs shakey. looked like you were high.

“your little boyfriend’s outside babygirl,” he hums, squishing your cheeks between his hands and placing a fat kiss on your lips. “don’t wanna keep him waiting huh?”

he waits to see your head nod. took a minute to comprehend what he even said.

with a little smack on your ass, he sends you off, chuckling a little to himself as you stumble with your pretty heels on.

“hey, and tell him your pops said hi.”

(google doc link)

Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.

“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.

Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.

“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.

“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.

You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.

“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.

Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.

He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.

But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”

He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”

Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”

Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.

You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.

“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.

For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.

But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.

You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.

The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.

“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.

As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.

Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.

Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.

“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.

They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,

Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-

Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.

“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.

Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”

Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”

He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”

“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.

“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.

“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”

Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”

Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.

All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.

You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”

For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”

You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”

Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”

With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.

You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.

Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.

“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.

Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.

Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.

“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.

You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”

But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.

Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—

He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.

“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.

You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.

You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”

Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”

You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.

You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.

As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”

As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?

That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.

He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:

“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.

He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.

He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.

Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.

Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.

You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”

His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.

He steps over the threshold.

Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.

“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.

“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.

You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”

Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.

“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.

“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly

Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.

“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.

He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”

He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.

You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…

He’s losing it.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”

He whines.

Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”

Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.

Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.

“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”

Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.

“May I kiss you?” he asks.

“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.

Oh fuck.

Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.

“Please?”

You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.

“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.

“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.

“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.

“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.

You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.

You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.

Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”

He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.

You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.

“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.

“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.

He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.

“Can I taste you please?”

Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.

“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.

“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”

Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.

“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.

Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.

You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.

“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.

He is good at this.

Really fucking good.

Too good?

It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.

He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.

“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.

A praise kink.

“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”

Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”

Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.

“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.

You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.

“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.

You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”

His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.

“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”

How could you say no to such a beautiful request?

You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.

“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.

His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.

“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.

Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.

“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.

He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.

“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.

Sweet mother of Jesus.

“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.

Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”

Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.

Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.

He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.

It’s not enough.

“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”

Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.

“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.

“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.

Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.

“Please” He says softly.

“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.

“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.

“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.

Oh lord.

You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.

“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.

You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.

“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.

You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”

He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.

“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”

The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.

“You feel so good doll”

“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”

And lastly:

“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.

He’s fucking thanking you.

You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.

“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.

“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.

“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.

Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.

He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.

“Sorry doll” He says quietly.

“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.

Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.

“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.

“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”

You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”

It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.

And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.

It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:

‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’

He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.

When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.

“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.

Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.

“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?

Oops.