nikki

Part 29: what next?

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The scent of smoke still lingers in the air, acrid, slightly sweet, and damning.

Barbara and Tim are still talking as they rush around the living room, laptops are being set up, coasters pushed off the coffee table to make space, Tim stumbles on Barbara's chair and spills soda all over the very expensive rug….. without so much as pausing to look at the mess.

cassandra is curled on an armchair with a judging expression aimed at the others, she’s holding an ice pack to her leg from some fight she got into with (name) in the backyard that bruce hadn’t even known about. there’s way too much slipping past him these days.

it's all a head rush to the shaken man.

J’onn is sitting next to him on the sofa, the same spots where he sat with (name) during an investigation And comforted the person who looked like his spouse. The same room they'd argued in over their reckless actions with his youngest.

Honestly with the context he now has? He's relieved that worse didn't happen in front of Damian.

Condensation drips onto his lap from a glass of water someone shoved into his grasp, but he doesn't react or set it down. He knows he needs to sober up, drink the damn water and clear his mind so he can deal with this properly. Be the responsible adult in this situation, (even if everyone in the room is grown) it's what he does. He takes charge because he's the one who can remove all emotion and be objective in any situation, or at least that's what he tells himself. he can be objective, he will be objective and rational and intelligent.

…He can't seem to untangle any of his thoughts to do anything but keep repeating what he saw.

(Name) Wasn't his (name), but they were at the same time. Their childhood, their family, their school life, college and the following internships and the trips to study out of the country, Their first meetings. he saw it from their perspective in his minds eye, even felt brief flickers of their emotions that they associated with the memories.

It's all still in their mind, but so is something new and very confusing. This would've been easier if they weren't still them.

there was something dangerous in their body, a cold war assassin from a different timeline. that was the only explanation for everything so different and wrong with those memories, they wore the same face, used the same name, but they were from somewhere very, very different than his world. aliens attacking the universes populations, government produced metas running rampant, public identities, unbelievable cruelties to the young, he cant get the picture out of his head of a child being given a gun and told to point it at a man.

he’s no stranger to weird timeline shenanigans, he knows about the batman who laughs timeline, the dark justice league timeline, the thomas wayne batman, the different realities where each of his children have taken up his mantle after his death.

but (name) comes from a place with no justice league, no gotham, no bruce wayne.

no version of him was in their life, that he could tell from what j’onn showed them anyways, they were a loner in all the worst meanings of the word. alone, no bonds beyond some redheaded woman, they were just existing to be violent without their own cause. just taking whatever work is pointed at their boss.

“bruce?” a voice snaps him to attention, j’onn is still staring at the zippo they brought in like some kind of fucked up evidence of this whole nightmare, the martians long emerald fingers keep rubbing over the face of the metal over and over, contemplative more than fearful, for some reason. it gives bruce pause for a moment.

he sighs deeply, lowering the water to the coffee table (in-between cords and caffeine sources) he wipes his damp hand on his pantleg a few times before he speaks. “…j’onn, what do you think of all this? i think i…”

he doesn’t finish the thought, i think i need guidance for once. he can’t look vulnerable in front of tim and barbara right now, when they’re already freaked out and jumping to conclusions about him being too emotionally compromised to deal with….whatever this is.

jonnz turns his gaze on him then, eyeing Bruce’s fingers twisting into the fabric of his clothes over his thigh, before he looks at him with that unreadable crimson stare. “you’re sweating.”

bruce almost runs a hand through his hair out of habit, but he reaches for the untouched water instead. “i wasn’t talking about my situation, you’re a detective, you saw into their head, what do you make of this?”

the silent give us something to work with. goes unsaid, but it’s very much felt. bruce can feel the others listening, barbara shifting towards them, tims clenched jaw as he hunches over a monitor, cassandra just straight up stares.

j’onn turns his head to glance at the zippo again, the burnt tarnish slowly rubbing away and revealing a heat tint in blues and purples.

“do you trust me to actually make a judgement, or do you just need to hear someone speaking calmly.”

bruce is annoyed that he hesitates for a moment, what does he actually need here? does he want j’onn to pass a a sentencing on his spouse-this case? or does he just want a distraction while he tries to figure out where he’s supposed to stand here. is he a husband? or a vigilante?

j’onn glances up before bruce can figure out what to spit out, but its not at bruce.

the martians bloody gaze stares at the doorway to the living room, and for a moment? bruce thought (name) was gonna walk in like always with that same clipped expression they wore these days, but no, instead the hall squeaks (shoes?) then damian stomps in at a quick pace.

”you!!” damian practically shouts as he locks onto tim, already pointing at him with a snarl twisting his expression into something enraged.

tim blinks in genuine confusion as he twists his torso away from his laptop. “me?-ack!”

the room collectively flinches as damian grabs a decorative candle off the fireplace shelf and lobs it at tims head.

j’onn is somehow already on his feet, but damian isn’t done yelling. “you freaking asshole! what the hell did you do!? why is (name) gone?”

bruce steps between the boys before anything else can be thrown, he tries to raise his hands and coax things to something a little calmer. (and lower volume.) “damia-”

but he gets cut off before he can hope to finish.

“no! i want to know why the channels are sending emergency alerts, and the bat chat is blowing up with some bullshit about tim catching a spy!?”

barbaras head whips around and she gives tim a flat look. “did you really take all the credit for my research leading to this?”

tim huffs, gingerly pressing a cold soda to his forehead dramatically. “feel free to reap the rewards too, there’s more candles.”

bruce tries again to mediate. “damian, stop yelling at your brother and listen to us. this is actually very serious, (name) isn’t….they’re not fully themselves right now, okay?”

he steps around the cords and wires hanging off the coffee table, and crosses the room to put a hand on his sons shoulder.

damian pauses for a moment, then, his face scrunches and he crosses his arms and turns his face away. “you smell like alcohol, you decided to get drunk over this?”

a flicker of sheepish embarrassment shoots through bruce, but he doesn’t flinch away or pull his hand back. “….that was before anything happened, and I’m very much in the right mind. now focus on the actual pressing issue for me.”

he tries to get damian to look at him, but tim speaks up behind him with a painfully sarcastic tone. “yeah, there’s a whole ass dopple-ganger slash ghostly possession wearing our parents body and running around the world right now. but let’s throw decorations at each other instead of dealing with it.”

cass shoots tim an unreadable look from her sprawled position in the armchair.

“i told you they’re not a threat, they fight like they just want to live, not to kill us.”

“they didn’t try to kill you, that’s great and all that cass. but they weren’t being super gentle and careful in the hospital when they tried to stab red robin in the neck, and are we forgetting that they brutalized that guy in the parking lot?”

damian leans around bruce to snap at tim huffily. “are you gonna hold onto that forever? you lived you dramatic dork. and that ”guy” was a crook trying to kidnap me and assault them. and he only lost a tooth! you do that every damn night with your stupid under-trained bo staff and nobody bats an eye at it! you only care about that and bring it up constantly because it fueled your vendetta.”

barbara groans into her hands loudly, the ginger slides her fingers under her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose tightly. “well, we weren’t wrong to be wary of them…”

cass chimes in again. “they’re probably frightened wherever they are, they shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“i kinda agree, we should focus back on finding them so we can monitor them and figure out how to fix them-” barbaras sentence is cut off by another interruption from damian.

“don’t talk about them like a dog that ran away from home, and what do you mean fix them?”

barbara glares sharply at damian, and this time he looks a bit sheepish for his quick outbursts.

she straightens up and fixes her glasses before fixing the room with a stern look. “i’m not saying that (name) is a dog, or malfunctioning, but they are hiding something very, very dangerous about themselves. we can’t ignore that part, and we can’t pretend that wayne manor wasn’t compromised.”

damian waits a moment to make sure she’s done speaking this time, then he steps around bruce to stand closer to the group. “….you guys still haven’t explained what exactly happened.”

cass is the one who speaks up next. “martian manhunter read (name’s) mind, we saw some things from another timeline….they’ve been through a lot.”

“yeah, a lot of bodies.” tim mutters quietly as he reaches for his drink again with a small scowl still on his face.

cass doesn’t even pause before she turns her head and speaks dryly.

“so have i. Will you hunt for me?”

the mood in the room falls a little more somber, somehow. not out of shock obviously, but remembrance that this isn’t a removed issue for some of the members of the bats.

the silence stretches for just a few seconds, then damian clears his throat quietly. “can i see the….other timeline stuff?”

his gaze flicks to the martian, and suddenly everyone else remembers that the poor man has been witness to all this bickering and family drama playing out.

said alien glances at the boy, then his blood red eyes lock on bruce. “i can, but your father has something to say first.”

bruce blinks, of course he’s being put under the spotlight. damned mind readers…

he returns to the couch and sits with a grunt, trying not to think about how he always sat on the left side beside his- “i’d like to wait and just show the others all at once, if you can wait for a bit, i want the whole group up to date on this….”

bruce looks at damian.

“i want us all to talk about this on even footing, to make a plan for our next steps….and i want all the bats ready to take in (name) if they see them.”

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A/n: been a while since I did a different POV huh? The candle part was my favorite scene for some reason so I hope y'all are okay with the Tim abuse 😔 anyways thx for reading and I manifest a good day for y'all! 💙

You’re a member of that rare club. It’s taken years of small kindness’ and lingering in Steve’s shadow to get there.

Even if you wanted to, you’d never risk ruining that just because of some schoolgirl crush. Not when Bucky might make your heart stumble and your face heat, but he hasn’t taken away your wits.

The same wits that tell you, it’s not worth the risk.

It will never be worth the risk. You worked too hard to get where you are. It’s too good a job, to burn up because you have a few fantasies. Steve Rogers famously went through assistant after assistant, before you. When you’d asked Natasha why—Steve’s a perfect boss, he lets you take hour long lunches and use sick time as PTO, as long as you don’t tell HR—she’d just shrugged.

“It’s not Steve that’s making them quit.” She’d hummed, like you were supposed to know exactly what that meant.

You hadn’t. You still don’t. Best guess, he thinks that everyone can keep up with him and forgets to slow down and match pace. But you can keep up with him just fine. Without breaking a sweat. Sometimes you out-pace him, and that earns you a loud, approving laugh and small smirk from Bucky.

Bucky.

James. You’re trying to call him James, in your head. It’s more formal. Creates a larger gap, between private fantasy and reality.

In fantasy, Bucky is a hazy voice that creeps into your dreams and rough stubble that brushes over your cheek. You tangle the sheets and blankets between your legs in bed, and pretend he’s there, holding you tight. Dreams and scenarios play out before you go to sleep, where he backs you against a wall and declares that he’s loved you since he first saw you. Or he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, pleading because he can’t take being away from you anymore. Maybe all his stares at conferences and meetings finally amount to something, and he grabs your jaw and kisses you so brutally you both just fall onto that soft couch in his office.

But Bucky doesn’t just stare at you. It’s one of his weird little quirks that Steve calls just Bucky, and Sam calls creepy and weird, he’s lucky we love him.

You do love him.

Bucky’s perfect. When you’d met him, he’d seemed as if he’d fallen out of a silver screen or leather-bound book. You’d never understood fantasies about powerful men, until one with the brilliance of fifty suns had been adjusting his cuffs in front of you. You’d barely been able to breathe, and it’s only gotten harder since you’ve known him.

At first look, Bucky’s a sharp jawline, dark hair, and eyes that follow you into your sleep. He’s cold and standoffish in that annoying way that makes the fool in your heart babble about how you could melt him. He snaps and orders and doesn’t waste time on things that don’t matter, and you’d like to hear how his voice could go soft, if you could make it.

That fool in your heart is loud. It tends to get the better of you, until the object of it’s fleeting obsession shatters the illusion by itself. Most of your crushes take a sledgehammer and destroy the heroic visage you’ve made of them in a second. You just have to wait for it, and they save you from themselves.

But Bucky likes to ruin your life.

It’s been a year, since Steve hired you. Fresh out of college, nervous, and with what Natasha called doe-eyes.

You love Bucky more than you did at the start, and it’s incredibly rude that he won’t just cut it out so you can focus.

“How’s your mother?” You ask one night, when it’s just you and Bucky.

James. When you’re alone in a room with him, and the white sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to show off obnoxious muscles, it’s important to remember you should be calling him James.

“My… Mother.”

He’s staring at you like you’re crazy. Heat floods your cheeks, but you just nod. He doesn’t get to win.

“You said she was moving.” You shrug, and Bucky’s tongue flicks over his lips.

“I did say that.”

“Yeah. I know.” You pretend to turn over a paper. “I was there.”

Bucky snorts, and it’s enough to yank your attention up. He’s shaking his head with that tiny curve of a smile, and it makes your heart do something that might resemble overdrive.

“What?”

“Nothin’.”  

“What-“

“My mother’s doin’ just fine.” Bucky says, staring at you across the room. “She loved those muffins you made her. Got me and my sisters in a lotta trouble, for not bothering to make her a housewarming gift.”

You swallow. “Oh, I- I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Bucky—James, but it’s impossible to remember when he looks at you like that—smirks. “I’d want you over me every time, too.”

There’s no possible response you can think of, to that. Not one that makes sense, and isn’t humiliating. You look back to your papers, mumble a thank you, and try not to let Bucky’s low chuckle pool heat between your thighs.

You don’t succeed.

But that’s a problem for your vibrator to worry about, when you get home.

Because that’s where the fantasy. And the reality is always starker. Harder to escape.

Bucky is a mountain of a man, but you’ve never climbed anything at all. Not a tiny hill, not a slope, not even a bump in the road. The most basic things, that most people get out of the way in middle school, you’ve never even brushed against. Not on purpose. It’s just… Never happened. And you’re certainly not going to start doing anything now. With your older pseudo-boss and sort of friend. You don’t have a death wish, and you’re certain that rejection will kill you with the humiliation alone.

So in reality, you’re never going to risk anything. You’ve never had health insurance this good before. Steve buys you lunch every day—technically he buys himself lunch, but you’re allowed to get whatever you want—and you got to move out of your rundown apartment with the landlady who kept getting mad you dared to have trash, but refused to fix your broken heater. In New York.

You haven’t had freezing fingers in a year. Because now, you could afford gloves. And in the harsh cold of reality, no dick is worth more than a nice pair of gloves.

Bucky’s might be. Bucky and his smile and low laugh and nobleness and silent kindness and-

No.

Nothing’s worth it. Not when Bucky wouldn’t even want you anyway.

You’d rather have the gloves.

“You get a plus one to this event, you know?”

You look at Steve over the desk, frowning slightly. “Huh?”

Steve’s lips twitch. “You get a plus one.”

“Okay?”

“Wasn’t sure you knew.” He shrugs. Your frown deepens.

“Of course I knew. I send out all the invitations.”

“Hm.”

“What’s hm? What does hm mean?”

“Just hm. Do you have the numbers, about-“

“They’re in front of you, Steven.” You narrow your eyes. “What’s hm mean.”

“Told you, nothing-“

“What.”

Sam says that there are only three people Steve is afraid of. Natasha, Bucky’s mother, and you. At the time, you’d laughed it off and rolled your eyes.

With how his throat bobs and he avoids your gaze, you’re starting to think that last part might be true.

“You’ve just always had that plus one offered.” Steve mutters, looking at the reports like they’ve suddenly turned into something interesting. “Noticed you never used it. Wanted to, uh- Make sure you knew.”

“I knew.” You snap, and Steve sighs.

“Yeah, I thought you did.”

“Then why’d you ask-“

“You wanna get lunch?” Steve’s voice raises, and the conversation is clearly over. “I think I could go for some sushi, or- Mexican. Maybe acai?”

Those are three very different things, and it is your job to figure out which one he really wants. But you can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

You have never used your plus one. You’ve never needed to.

There’s never been anyone worth using it on, except for one, dumb, handsome man who already has his own invitation to every event, and never has a problem finding his own date. You’ve spent dozens of nights lingering at Steve’s side—because he can tell you all he wants to enjoy yourself, you’ll slack when you’re dead—and glaring daggers at the model hanging off of Bucky’s arm. Giggling at everything he says and trying to drift closer than the polite, respectable distance he keeps them at.

He lets you sit closer to him than he lets them. And they are all a little younger, so maybe he wouldn’t mind that you’re not experienced and-

You stamp those thoughts under your heel. Not worth it.

But is Steve’s noticed how you never bring anyone, maybe he’s noticed how you stare at Bucky as well. And if he’s noticed that, he might start looking closer. And if he looks closer, he’s going to realize that you’re in love with his best friend, and he’s going to tell Bucky, and you’re going to get fired, and lose your cool apartment and fuck, you aren’t emotionally prepared to be a prostitute-

You need a date.

It’s the safest, most logical conclusion. You study Steve across the room, and quickly decide against asking to be set up. That might get back to Bucky, and you don’t want him to know for reason that defy common sense. You can’t ask anyone at work, but all your friends are your co-workers. You could go out to a bar, but that sounds dangerous and exhausting, and you’re not even sure where you’d find the time.

Which leaves one option.

Dating apps.

There are millions of them. You know from college friends and social media that there are about five worth having. You download all of them, and spend the rest of your lunch setting up your profile. You’re by no means ugly, and you’ve got plenty of pictures in exciting locations thanks to Steve being unable to get through any work event without you there. You put down that you’re not sure what you’re looking for, because you’re really not. You lie about your job, because when you tell people you’re Steve Roger’s personal assistant, they usually get weird. You settle just secretary, even though Steve and Natasha would shout at you if they saw.

They won’t see. None of them will see.

And you’ll get a nice, boring date to the next event, and everything is going to be fine.

“You never tell me about your family.”

Bucky’s words are so low you almost don’t hear them. You look up at him in surprise, and hope the dim lighting hides your flush.

“You never ask.”

His lips twitch down. “I’ve told you about my family.”

“So?”

“Usually.” He mutters, glaring at his papers like the did something to personally offend him. “When you tell someone about yourself, it’s an… Exchange of information.”

“An exchange of information?” You snort. “Is that a CIA thing?”

“Not everything I do is a CIA thing.”

“Everything Natasha does is a CIA thing. And you were in the CIA together.”

“Nat was better at it than I was.” He grumbles. His brow does a tight-knit wrinkle thing, when he’s frustrated. For a grown man, it’s always rather adorable. “I’d like to know about your family.”

“I…” You blink at him, your brain turning fuzzy and useless.

He’s staring at you. Saying those words like they matter, and you can barely understand them at all.

“Why?”

“Because. We’ve worked together a while. I know… A lot about you.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, giving you a strange look. “You know about me.”

“Uh huh. That’s usually how being friends works.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, well. You’ve met my mother. She adores you.”

“She doesn’t adore me-“

“She adores you.”

He says it like it’s really not up for debate. You flush. “Oh- Okay.”

“Everyone you meet adores you.” Bucky grumbles, like that complete lie of a statement infuriates him. “And I tell you everything about me.”

You don’t think that’s true either. You know a lot about Bucky, but not everything. Steve says Bucky’s just like that—not big on sharing—so you hoard every bit of information he offers you like a dragon with gold, but it’s far from everything. “Bu- James-“

“Bucky.” He corrects, and you sigh.

He’s not making that part easy, either.

“Bucky.” You say, smooth and careful. “You know everything about me that Steve knows. I- I can tell you more. But I’m not all that interesting.”

“I disagree.” He mutters. “You’re impossibly interesting.”

You can only hum, pressing your thighs together as he just keeps staring at you. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that. It makes your brain slow down and all your thoughts turn honeyed and gooey. His hands are right in your eyeline, and he’s got those big, deft fingers that you’ve imagined tracing over your hips and lips, and he’s giving you compliments. Compliments like they’re just breathing, like he doesn’t even have to think about them because you could be all he sees.

“What do you want to know?” You mumble, desperate to move the conversation away from this. If you offer yourself too much of his attention, it’s going to drag you under like quicksand.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?”

“My favorite flower-“

Bucky grunts, nodding tightly. You take a deep, slow breath, careful not to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Bucky grunts. “Well, what kinda flowers have people gotten you before.”

“I- I’ve never been given flowers.”

“You’ve never-“ Bucky cuts himself off, and you risk a glance up to see him scowling. “Ever?”

You can hear the what about that he won’t say. What about a boyfriend.

If he’s not brave enough to ask it—although you don’t understand why he’d care—you don’t have to be brave enough to answer it.

“No. Never ever.” You mumble, and you might dissolve into a mist of humid humiliation and confusing arousal.

You have Bucky’s attention, and you both wish he’d take it back and never want him to stop pushing. You’ve never had someone poke at you this much. It makes your core ache, and you’d rally rather not explore what that means right now.

“You need to sign these.” You shove some papers across the desk, staring at Bucky’s hands again.

They’re curled in fists. You’d like them inside you-

You mentally slap yourself, and force a smile onto your face, nodding to the papers. “Steve told me not to let you go home, until you did.”

Bucky chuckles at that, though there’s still a strange look in his eyes. “Not let me go home, huh.”

“Yes, sir.” You drawl.

Bucky’s knuckles go white. You could swear his voice gets lower.

“And how would you stop me from gettin’ home, kid?”

“With lots of talent.” You shrug, giving him a tiny smile. “And my body.”

Bucky coughs, and the desk jerks suddenly. His knee must’ve slammed against it. You shoot to your feet, ready to check on him, but he waves you quickly back down.

“Fine. I’m fine.” He scowls, scooting forward in his chair. “Papers.”

He makes a beckoning gesture, and you just stare at him.

“James, are you-“

“Bucky.” He grunts. “Papers, sweetheart.”

You nod stupidly, shoving the papers into his hands. You’re not sure what’s happening. Your thoughts are all still made of candy-clouds and goo, so you don’t want to overthink it.

It’s only when you get home, that you realize what he called you. I

Sweetheart.

You can’t blame him. He can’t know what that does to you.

You really need to find that date.

It happens in the middle of work. The worst possible place for it to happen.

Steve’s on a conference call, and you’re lying on his couch, swiping through dating apps. You’re only there in case he forgets something, and you don’t have to pay much attention for that. The voices of old, annoying men drone on and on and on in the background, and you have everything memorized so well that when Steve calls your name, you answer without even realty paying attention to what you’re saying.

The call is three hours for no good reason at all. You get bored.

Hence, the dating apps.

It’s almost as mindless as the call itself. All in all, the experience is turning out to be more of a fun game than an actual method to find a date. The next gala is creeping up, though. You refuse to give up.

But you’re also picky. And you keep comparing every profile you see to Bucky, which is deeply counterproductive.

Michael is handsome, and the exact same height as Bucky, but he’s built with corded muscle instead of the softer, thicker strength you’ve seen straining through Bucky’s suit. Henry has a picture of himself with kids—his sister’s, according to the caption—but you look at it and just think of when Bucky and Steve went to the children’s hospital, and Bucky had become such a soft and approachable person you’d been worried you’d get pregnant watching him.

Leon has nice eyes, but they’re not as pretty as Bucky’s. Cal is in the military, but he’s beaming about it in a way that makes you think he joined so he could run around with a big gun, while Bucky joined because his family needed the healthcare. Jake has a sweet smile, but it doesn’t make you feel bubbly like Bucky’s. Asher and Kyle both have high paying jobs—all their photos showing them driving Maserati’s and drinking expensive whiskey—but one of the things you’ve always loved about Bucky is how he doesn’t brag. His suits are less expensive and more well-tailored. His watch costs $150—he always grumbles that he just needs it to tell time—and he drives a motorcycle that Sam says he built from scratch.

You squint at Damien’s profile, and he’s got a motorcycle too. His caption says that he built it himself, and you don’t know anything about motorcycles, but you doubt he built it as well as Bucky did.

You swipe left with a sigh, and go onto the next profile.

James. 41. Business Manager. You give the picture a quick glance—beefy, shirtless chest that makes you drool a little, only the sharp, bearded jawline of the owner visible in the photo—and squint at the bio. Wealthy bachelor looking for his Queen.

You snort, and scroll lazily down. James’ Interests include music, cars, technology, dancing, family. No kids, but wants them. Looking for casual fun—you can’t be causal, or have fun, but it’s always nice to pretend—located thirty feet away, pet cat, smokes and drinks socially-

Located thirty feet away.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You sit up suddenly, rapidly scrolling back up to the photos and main bio. James, 41, Business Manager.   

Fucking- Fuck-

You click frantically through the photos, somehow burning alive and freezing to your bones all at once. James’ next photo doesn’t show his face either, instead displaying a fluffy white cat on his bare chest. You know that cat. You’ve fed and pet her, paying her more attention than Bucky himself whenever he brings her to the office. Alpine adores you. You have more photos of her on your phone than you do of yourself.

Next photo.

Bucky drinking at that Italian place he, Steve, and Sam always go to for celebrations. In the background, you can see Natasha flirting with the bartender. You remember that night. She’d taken him home, and you’d heard far too many details about how hot and submissive he was in the morning. You’d been happy for her, and sick with jealousy. You’d spent all of that night standing next to her, trying not to stare at Bucky while he and Steve drank.

Which means-

You pinch in on the photo, feeling a little sick when you find it. Shrouded enough in the background that you can only see it if you look, but you can definitely fucking see it.

Your lovelorn, sad expression as you stare at Bucky like he’s made of stars.

He’s seen this photo. Everyone who’s been on his dating profile has seen this photo.

You feel sick. You unpinch the photo, ready to maybe just fall back into the couch cushions and have them swallow you whole, and then it fucking happens.

Your thumb drifts a little to the right.

You swipe yes on Bucky’s profile.

And a little heart graphic overtakes your screen, the bolded words It’s a Match! Shoved into your face.

You scream, and throw your phone across the room.

Steve looks at you like you’re insane. You feel insane.

“Are you-“

“I need to go to the bathroom!” You shout, and Steve opens his mouth, but you’re already running.

You have to pass Bucky’s office—right next to Steve’s—to get to the bathroom. You pause to stare at him, unable to form any coherent thoughts but fuck and Bucky.

He’s on his phone. Reading something with a knit brow. You might actually be about to throw up.

Like he can sense you, he looks up.

Your eyes meet.

And you run away, as fast as you fucking can.

Steve is a lovely boss. When you tell him you need a week off for vague personal reasons, but that you can still work remotely, he tells you not to bother and just take the time without work.

“But- I can help-“

“I know. I’m telling you not to.” He gives you a small smile. “You’ve earned the break.”

“Steve-“

“You’re allowed to just rest,” he says your name kindly, and you shake your head. No. You’re not.

“Please give me something to do.” You plead, and Steve sighs.

“Kid, you don’t have to prove something-“

“Please.” If you don’t have anything, you’re just going to stare at your match with Bucky the whole time. And that’s a harrowing, deadly prospect of a way to spend your week.

Steve sighs, and gives in. You get a bunch of emails to send, and they’re just enough to distract you.

Barely.

Sometimes, you still manage to falter, and open up the app. Stare at the you matched with James three days ago! Banner at the top of the screen. Maybe he hasn’t seen it at all, and you’re hiding for no reason. He could be someone who never even checks who he matches with unless they message first, because he just gets so many matches. Jealousy stabs through your heart, sour and sharp, and you sigh.

It’s your best hope. That he’ll just never know.

But he matched with you, too.

He could just swipe right on every girl he sees. That’s a thing you hear men do.

Bucky’s not the type to do that.

He’s also not the type to be looking for his Queen. Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

But you’re pretty sure you do.

This is making your head hurt.

Your real best bet is that someone’s been catfishing as James Barnes, but there’s no real hope of that with the bar photo. You’re going to have to quit your job and change your name. Maybe Steve can reference you to another similar job if you apologize enough. Maybe you can move to Alaska and learn how to be a fisherwoman. You’re not very patient. And you’re not going to be able to afford your nice gloves anymore. Maybe you should just die. The best option might just be dying-

Your phone buzzes.

Message from James.

You throw your phone again. He knows.

Death is looking lovely right now.

Your days off turn into a week off. Steve checks on you, but doesn’t push you to come back. If anything, he’s still trying to convince you to just take a real vacation.

“It’s going to help more than… What you’re doing right now.” He stands in the middle of your apartment, gesturing at your ice cream and the mess of clothing on the floor.

“This is helping plenty.” You mutter. Steve sighs.

“Look, I’m really not mad about you taking the time. I know you. You wouldn’t take it if you didn’t need it.”

“But?” You give him a pointed look, and his jaw ticks.

“But I wish you’d tell me what was goin’ on.” He says, sounding more sad than annoyed. “So I could help.”

You give him a tight smile. “Steve-“

“Anything you need. If I can’t get it, I’m sure Bucky or Nat could-“

“Steve.” You don’t want to hear about how Bucky can help you. Not when he knows perfectly well why you’ve gone into hiding. “I- I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Steve frowns, but lets it go. In the Steve way, where he keeps asking every time he visits, but always takes the no in stride.

“Can you at least tell me what I should be saying to everyone else?” He asks after a week. “People are noticing I’m missing my brain.”

You laugh softly. “I’m sick.”

“But you’re not.”

Not visibly. Your heart feels sick. Bucky’s sent you two more messages on the app, one into your personal number, and none on Teams, and you’ve read none of them. You don’t want to hear his gentle rejection, because it’s going to crush you into fine, little pieces.

“We’re worried about you.” Steve says. “And again, no rush to come back, but I don’t know how to work my own schedule and Bucky’s started pacing whenever I try to do your job, so-“

“Bucky’s pacing?” You blurt, and Steve blinks.

“Yeah? Think he misses you, too.”

You swallow, and glance at your phone. The unread messages.

Bucky only paces when he feels like something is wrong. Really wrong.

And you don’t want to know. That he’s been thinking about. That he’s been pacing. Because it all ends the same anyway.

“I’ll be back soon.” You mumble, flipping your phone face down. You don’t want to know. “Just- A few more days.”

Steve looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe you.

But you’re a big girl. You can survive a little rejection, and it doesn’t have to be anything at all.

You’re going to keep going, and this won’t have to have been anything at all.

Nobody asks, when you get back to the office. Nat and Sam check in that you’re okay, and Steve lets you pick lunch three days in a row—and you think he’s blaming himself for everything, which at least tells you that Bucky hasn’t snitched about anything—but the only thing waiting for you is a phone full of voicemails and a crowded calendar.

And Bucky.

Bucky, who almost acts like nothing even happened at all.

Almost.

He’s staring more than he used to, and he’d always stared quite a lot. When you’re left alone in a room together, he stares until you look up at him, before immediately coughing and looking back to his own papers. He lingers outside of Steve’s office until you ask if he needs to talk, and he shakes his head and runs off like a teenager caught trying to buy drinks. Nat shouts at him after two meetings where he wasn’t paying attention, and he mutters that he was distracted.

“What?! What could you possibly have been so distracted by that you missed every cue Sam gave you, five times in a row?”

He just shrugs, and you can feel his gaze burning straight into your heart. You bow your head, and pretend you don’t see it.

You still haven’t looked at the messages. You’re not going to. And he hasn’t brought it up, so it’s like nothing ever happened.

Like nothing ever happened.

But it happened. The world ended, but it also just kept spinning, and now you’re suspended in a world where Bucky doesn’t even treat you like a friend anymore.

Steve notices. Of course he does. Asshole.

“Did something happen?” He asks softly. “Did Bucky… Say something to you?”

You look up with wide eyes, mouth going dry. “Wha- What? No, Bucky- James and I, it’s fine.” You laugh, high and nervous. “Everything’s fine.”

Steve hums, and he doesn’t believe you. You can see it, shining in his eyes. “You know… I’ve known Bucky a long time.”

“I know. I’ve read the about page.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I mean, yes, but-“ He sighs. “Bucky’s not good at… Talking. When something matters to him, he shows it.”

“Okay.” He’s shown you nothing but silence and stares.

“And he, um- He’s a good guy-“

“I’m aware.”

“I know you are, but-“ Steve sighs, slumping in his chair. “Just, if Bucky ever says something to you, or asks you to do something, and you don’t want to, don’t. I’d rather you piss him off then feel pressured. Not that he’d pressure you,” he adds quickly. “But if there’s ever… Anything. And I’ve been wrong about… Stuff. Just know you’re as valuable as he is.”

He’s speaking in riddles. This has been a long few weeks. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, taking in a deep breath. “And is there… Anything you want to tell me? As my friend?”

It’s a mean card to play. You almost want to. Steve’s kind, and he gives good advice, and you believe him. You know that if you confessed your silent, raging love for Bucky, Steve would just support you.

But you don’t need someone to support you right now. You need someone to smack you in the face and tell you to stop being a baby about your crush not liking you back.

“No.” You give him a strained smile, and it hurts on your face. “Why, is there something you need to tell me?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, then slowly shakes his head. “No. Just… You were missed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Steve clears his throat.

“By everyone.”

You nod, useless tears stinging at your eyes, and look back to your work.

Later that day, Bucky goes into Steve’s office and they talk for two hours. You want to eavesdrop, but that would be a new, pathetic low.

You stare at Bucky’s head through the glass, and chew on a pencil until it snaps in half.

When Bucky leaves the office, he stops in front of your desk and lingers. You can feel the heat from his body, and you’d like to fall into it. He clears his throat, and you look up like he’d grabbed your chin and demanded it.

His eyes are shining on yours, and you’ve never seen his jaw clenched so tight. As if he’s disgusted, just from the sight of you.

“You look nice.” He rasps, and you can’t tell if you’re glowing or burning out.

“Thank you.”

He nods, looking up to the ceiling, then back to you. “We all missed you.”

“I’ve been told-“

“I missed you.” He says those words firmer. They sink into your core, molten and demanding, so overwhelming you’re not even sure what to do with yourself.

You’ve been staring at him too long. Words are failing you, thoughts are failing you, and-

“I, uh- I’ll leave you to it-“

“You too.” You breathe out, and Bucky stumbles back like you hit him. “I- I missed you too.”

He blinks. His nostrils flare, and he gapes at you with a red face. For a second, you don’t see the calm, collected man you know and adore so well. You see something closer to a teenage boy, fumbling and gaping and unsure what to do with his own strength.

You like him, just as much as you like the rest of Bucky. Love it.

Endlessly and uselessly love it.

Bucky turns on his heels, and almost runs back to his office. Your nails dig into your palms, and you force your attention back to your work.

It will pass. All of this, like every storm, is going to have to pass.

You get a night off. Steve has a date, and it’s the one part of his life you have and want nothing to do with. You were going to use the evening to catch up on more voicemails, until Sam shooed you out of the building like a bird. Go rest, woman.

You are resting.

By catching up on emails.

There’s a knock on your door, long after anyone should be out doing anything. You don’t move from the couch at first, because you think it’s a mistake.

Then the knock repeats. Louder than the first time. And someone shouts your name, muffled through the door.

Not a mistake.

Bucky. That’s Bucky’s voice.

You fall, trying to get up. Your knees feel like jelly, and you haven’t even seen him yet, but he’s already doing that thing where his attention makes you feel like you’re made of electric static. Sensitive and empty-headed in the best and worst way. You can barely stand it. You can’t really stand at all.

When you finally—somehow—make it to the door, Bucky’s standing on the other side like he’s awaiting inspection. Tall and silent, shoulders squared and arms behind his back, looking at you like you’re holding his life in your hands.

You stare at him. He stares back, and you can measure your every breath in heartbeats. Louder and louder in your ears.

“Hi.” You finally say, shifting on your feet, and his throat bobs.

“Hey.”

“What’re you-“

“I wanted to check on you.” He blurts, and you freeze. “And- Talk.”

You ignore that last part. It’s the last thing you want to do. “I’m fine.”

Bucky’s pretty lips tug down. “You took two weeks off.” He mutters. “You don’t even take sick days.”

You swallow. “I- I was trying to take care of myself-“

“By working the whole time?” He looks past you again, and you follow his gaze.

Right to your laptop, open on an email draft.

“You’re supposed to be takin’ tonight off too.” He says, a little scolding, and you stiffen.

“You’re not my boss.”

Bucky chuckles. Low and deep, shivering up your spine. “Trust me, doll. I’m fully aware of that.”

Oh. That does something nice to your core. You think you might be getting a fever.

“James…”

“Bucky.” He grunts, and you take an unsteady breath. Staring at his chest seems to be the most effective way to speak to him.

“Bucky, I- I’m fine, really-“

“I brought you flowers.” He says suddenly, and his hands shoot out from behind his back.

He’s holding out a large bouquet of roses and lilies, each in about three different colors. It’s a stark contrast to his black suit and neatly pressed white shirt, petals spilling and little bits of yellow pollen clinging to the stems. To the cuffs of his sleeves.

Bucky clears his throat, pushing the flowers a little further forward. You take them with shaking hands, a little worried they’ll dissolve the moment you touch them. They don’t. And Bucky clears his throat.

“I, uh- I gave you options, and-“ He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I come in? Please?”

You can’t think of a good reason to say no. You don’t even think you’d get out the words, if you tried. So you nod, and step to the side.

And now Bucky’s in your apartment. Looking around at your things and licking his lips, nodding slowly. He fits into it, like a puzzle piece being slowly slotted in, and-

No.

You can’t think like that. It’s not going to help anyone, not by far.

He brought you flowers.

To apologize for breaking your heart.

Bucky looks back to you, bracing his hands on his hips. You swallow, hugging yourself tight, and neither of you dare to move. Bucky takes a ragged breath, looks to the side, and back to you with the strangest, most anguished expression you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“Tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.” He starts, urgent and pleading. “You gotta tell me if I’m steppin’ over the line.”

“Bucky-“

“We both know why I’m here.” He takes a step forward. You take a step back.

Bucky freezes, and you take a shaking breath, staring at his shoes.

“I- I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t?” Bucky cuts you off, and you glance up to see him frowning. “At all?”

You blink. “No, I- I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you meant it?”

You nod, and Bucky’s jaw works tight.

“Could you?”

“What?”

“Could you mean it?” He rasps, and your mouth falls uselessly open.

“Ja-  Bucky.” You shake your head, stepping further back. If this is a trick, you’re too fragile to fall for it. “I- I don’t know.”

“Why not?” He takes a step forward, your eyes trapped together. “Is it me?”

“Is it you?”

“Yeah, I- I mean- You don’t really date.” He clears his throat. “And Stevie’s never told me why, ‘cause- I’m not your boss, but I’m not not your boss- ‘s what Sam says-“

You’ve never heard him ramble. Never heard him speak like he’s not sure of the next work. It’s just as endearing as the display at the desk, but you’re even less sure what to do with it. “Bucky-“

“If it’s just me that you’re not- That’s the reason.” He’s standing over you now. Bowing his head. “Then that’s fine. I’m not gonna be an ass about it. But…” His shoulders slump. “If it’s not that. Then I- I’d like to…”

He trails off, giving you a hopeful look.

But you’re lost. Nothing he’s saying is making sense, and you’re almost being dragged under by the current of his words.

“What?” You repeat, more pleading than before. Bucky sighs.

“You never answered my messages.” He mutters. “Figured I’d need to ask in person. Needed to hear it.” He clears his throat, lips twitching. “Even if it’s a no.”

“Even…” You frown. “Even if what’s a no?”

His head shoots up, and his frown deepens. “I’m… Asking you out. On a date?”

Oh.

What.

Your surprise must be written all over your face, because Bucky looks bewildered. He can join the club.  

You just keep staring at him stupidly, and he says your name, slow and measured.

“You read my messages, right?”

You shake your head, and he groans.

“I- I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s- It’s my fault.” He mutters. “Nat told me you were oblivious-“

You cut him off indignantly. “I am not oblivious-“

“We matched on a dating app.” He drawls, lips twitching slightly. “And you’re shocked I’m askin’ you out.”

You scowl, hugging yourself tighter. “I thought you made a mistake.” You grumble, and Bucky chuckles.

He takes another step forward. Close enough that you can smell him, smell his cologne and aftershave and something deeper that’s just Bucky. You step back more out of fear that you were about to fall forward.

Bucky follows you.

Suddenly your pinned against your counters, Bucky’s arms braced on either side of your body. You swallow. Bucky’s tongue darts over his lips, and you think you did drown in his everything. You’ve been swept out to sea, and there’s no hope of being dragged out to shore.

And with how Bucky’s looking at you, you’re not sure you’d ever ask to be saved.

“You.” Bucky reaches up, brushing hair out of your eyes with a small smile. “Are not a mistake. And if someone’s been tellin’ you that you are.” He leans down, until your lips are almost brushing. “They’re damn lucky you’re lettin’ them make it.”

Dear God. You’re not strong enough for this.

“James…” You breathe out, and his brows knit. “Bucky. Don’t.”

He tenses around you. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” You whisper, eyes dropping to his lips. They look so soft. “Don’t do this.”

Bucky leans a little back, but doesn’t pull fully away. “Why not? I told you, if it’s not ‘cause of me, we can work it out-“

“Bucky-“

“I’ll quit.” He says suddenly, and you gape.

“You’re the boss, you can’t quit-“

“There are like, four bosses.” Bucky waves you off. “Five if we’re countin’ you, which I am, and you do twice the fuckin’ work. I’ll just quit, and you can have my job, and we can-“

“Bucky.” You grab his shirt, and he falls silent immediately. “Just- Stop. You can’t quit, you shouldn’t-“ You take a deep breath, trying to focus on speaking instead of crying.

Bucky says your name softly, and big hands thread through your hair as you start to sniffle. It’s so pathetic, but you’re tired and overwhelmed and you can’t take him doing this to you twice. You’re not the kind of girl Bucky Barnes is going to want. Not for real. Not for long. And you can’t handle him pretending you are.

“It’s not nice.” You whimper, even as he tugs you into his chest.

Pressing your face into his chest is just as amazing as you’d always imagined. You wish you weren’t crying when it finally happened.

“What’s not nice.” Bucky prompts gently, and you swallow.

“You.”

“Me?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his torso. Bucky pets the back of your head, words low and cautious.

“What about me isn’t nice?”

You shake your head, hugging him tighter. You can’t stop. It’s like a reflex. “You can’t- You can’t say that stuff. ‘S mean.”

“Me tellin’ you I’d quit for you is mean?”

“You don’t mean it.”

Bucky tenses. “I do mean it-“

“No, it’s not- I’m not-“ You swallow, breathing him in. “I don’t just wanna be…”

You trail off. Bucky prompts you softly. “Be what?”

“Be fun.” You mumble. “I can’t do fun, you know than, and- And if you’re not serious, then-“

“I’m dead serious.” Bucky grunts, and you swallow.

“James-“

“No. Listen to me.” He picks you up without a warning, sitting you on the counter so you’re at his eye level. You grab his shoulders, and he keeps his hands planted on your hips, almost holding you under his words.

Forcing you to hear them, as he watches you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

“I am serious about this. About you.” He grabs one of your hands, holding it between your bodies. “I have wanted you since I met you. Don’t look at me like that,” he squeezes your hand when you give him a doubtful frown. “I have. You are beautiful and smart and bossy, and I’ve been obsessed with you so much, Nat’s slapped me about it twice.”

You swallow, closing your eyes tight. You can’t look at him right now. “Your profile said looking for casual.” You mutter, and Bucky snorts.

“Last year, Sam made that thing for me. ‘Cause I was obsessed with Stevie’s new PA, and I needed to get under someone to get over it.”

“Hm.” You peek at him. He looks sincere. “Did you?”

“I got under many someone’s.” He shrugs. “Didn’t have Sam’s intended effect. Think I just wanted you more, after every time.”

You swallow. That does explain a lot about the profile, in hindsight. Those were all very Sam things to say.

“I want you.” Bucky murmurs, pressing a little closer. Your noses are bumping, and he’s still not looking away. “You’re in my dreams, and days without you are nightmares. Just- One shot. It’s all I need. Please.”

And God, you want to give it to him. More than anything. You want to tell him that he doesn’t even need his shot, he hit a bullseye a year ago and you’ve just been waiting for him to realize it since.

But-

“I’m a virgin.” You blurt, and Bucky blinks.

“Okay-“

“I can’t do what others can. For you. And I- I don’t know how anything works- Well, I know how sex works, I got an A in health class, but everyone got an A in health, but I got an A and paid attention, and-“ You’re rambling. “I just don’t know how dating works, or- Or relationships, and I’m not- You’re very- You.”

You gesture over his everything, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“That a problem, doll?”

“No. God, no. You’re perfect, I’m just- Not? And that’s not really fair to you-“

Bucky grabs your face, and your cut off in a kiss.

You’ve seen kissing in the movies and on TV. Read about it a million times. It’s always all sweet and romantic, with swelling music and breeze and passion.

And nothing has done it justice at all.

Kissing Bucky is awkward for a second—his lips slotted over yours, your whole body frozen as it shuts down, then reboots—and then it’s like breathing. Your hands fly back to his shoulders, your legs spread so you can lean further forwards, and your lips move without a thought. Pressing against Bucky’s, moving in a dance he seems more than happy to lead, chasing at the slight chance that you could have just a little more.

One of Bucky’s hands finds this back of your head, and the other grabs your waist. Dragging you further forward until your chests are pressed tight, massaging the softness there in rhythm with his lips. You sigh, breathy and content, and Bucky presses further down. He’s all you can feel, muscle under your hands and love pounding in your heart. You nails scrape his neck, and he groans into the kiss.

The sound vibrates against your spread thighs. His hand on your waist flexes, fingers digging into the softness, and you gasp.

Bucky pulls back too fast, and you follow. Tugging him back, unwilling to let him go just yet. He follows for a second, tongue tracing over your lower lip, then yanks himself back.

His brow presses against yours, and you both breathe raggedly.

“I like you.” Bucky almost growls. His thumb presses over your swollen lips, palm cupping your cheek, and you melt further into him than you already were.

“Bucky-“

“You’re what I want.” He leans forward, demanding and pleading all at once. “Your body.” He pushes his hand under your shirt, rough fingers dragging against sensitive skin. “Is a bonus.”

You shiver, whimpering softly. You feel pliant. Dizzy, in a way that no flirting or video has ever rendered you before. You think Bucky might’ve sucked your soul out with that kiss. You’d like him to do it again.

But when you try to lean up, Bucky pushes you gently back down. You whine, and his lips twitch.

“You like me too.” He mutters, watching you like he’s somehow still unsure.

“Mhm.” You say, and he stands a little taller.

“How long-“

“The same.”

“Oh.” He grins. “Good. That’s- Good-“

You slam back up, kissing him with an open mouth and sloppy need. Bucky responds immediately, and heat is starting to build between your thighs. It’s not just going to go away with a little touching and petting. It’s almost painful. You need him.

Bucky pulls away again. You’re going to punch him.

“Jesus.” He mutters, staring down at your desperate expression. “You gotta slow down, baby-“

“Don’t want to.” You breathe, pulling at his shirt. “Want you, Bucky. Want you now.”

His throat bobs, eyes darkening, but he remains composed. “You… You’re a virgin-“

“Then show me.”

Bucky says your name, and now he’s the one begging. But you’re not letting him off this easy.

“Show me, Bucky.” You rest your chin on his chest, giving him your best pout.

He grabs your face between big hands, chest heaving as he stares at you. You offer a sweet smile, and his nostrils flare.

“Please.” You whisper. “Anything. I just want to feel you.”

“Feel me.” He echoes, like he can’t believe it. “You wanna feel me?”

You nod, and he presses his brow over yours his, his eyes squeezed shut.

“And you want me to show you.” He rasps. “All the different ways I can make you feel good.”

You nod frantically, almost clawing at his shirt. Bucky’s eyes shoot open.

“Yeah?” He grunts, and you whine.

“Yeah. Yes. Please-“

He grabs your jaw, grip hard and unyielding, folds over you like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. His lips move, harsh and hungry, and his hand on your hip starts to knead the skin like he’s trying to leave a mark.

“Wanted this for so long.” He grunts, dragging his hand down to squeeze your ass. “Wanted you. So fuckin’ bad.”

You moan into his mouth, and Bucky sucks on your lower lip. You can’t have enough of him. He’s warm and leaves little fires everywhere he touches. You’d like them to sweep through you, overtake you and send you higher.

“So gorgeous.” Bucky’s hand moves lower, resting on your upper thigh. “Thought about you all the time, hated bein’ in a room and not getting to touch you, was so sure I was going to lose my damn mind not havin’ you be mine.”

“I- I wanted you too.” You breathe out, almost delirious from his kisses. “Always wanted it to be you, never- Oh-“

You lose your ability to speak for a second, when Bucky starts to kiss under your ear. Your body goes pliant and soft, and his growl against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. He’s holding the back of your neck now, guiding it to offer himself better access. You tug on his hair and he moans. It makes your knees wobbly.

“Never anyone else,” you breathe, and he seems to like that. The massive hand on your thigh shifts slightly, so Bucky’s thick fingers are grazing your core through your clothing.

It’s a perfect pressure where you’d been craving any of his attention, and it’s a promise of more later. Your legs give out, eyes fluttering as your brain short circuits with arousal.

Bucky picks you up like you weigh nothing. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as he sits you on the counter, back arching as he captures your mouth in another kiss.  

“No one else.” He mutters, hand on your neck slowly, possessively moving down your spine. “Never gonna be anyone else, doll. Not for you,” he nips at your jaw, hand on your thigh teasing the sensitivity under your shirt. “Sure as shit not for me. Been no one else since I started thinkin’ of you.”

Your breath hitches, and you lean back with wide eyes. “Bucky, you don’t have to-“

“I’m not lying.” He says firmly, dropping his brow against yours. You try to lean back, but he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back together.

You blink at him hopelessly, grabbing at the collar of his shirt like you’re looking for balance. Bucky gives you a tiny smile, pressing his lips sweetly over yours. Another, softer promise.

“No one,” he murmurs. “Was ever gonna live up to you. First few months I’d fuck a girl and feel sick the next day. Like I’d done you wrong.”

“You- You didn’t-“

“Yeah, I did. We coulda been doin’ this a lot sooner.”

You flush, looking down to where your bodies are pressed so tight together. Bucky’s dress shirt and hidden muscle, both hard and gentle all at once. Your sleeping clothes and bare feet, swinging off the counter. You lean a little further into him, suddenly feeling rather small.

“What if I’m not…” You take a deep breath, frowning at the floor. “What if I don’t-“

Bucky says your name, concerned and caring, and you shake your head.

“What if I’m not the fantasy, Bucky.” You look back up with your best pleading eyes. “What if that- That idea of me isn’t worth what you thought?”

His brows knit tight, and you try to shirk away as he studies you. You can’t tell if you like it or not, but you know you feel bare. And you both want him to look away, and never go where you can’t reach him again.

Bucky’s lips twitch. He leans forward slowly, kissing each corner of your mouth before taking it fully under his. The kiss is hot and commanding, almost forcing your brain to slow back down. You dissolve into it, your thoughts a nice haze of Bucky. He guides your legs a little further apart, and takes both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them behind you.

“I love you,” he mutters. “I told you. And remember,” he pulls back with that lovely, secret smile. “I’m helpin’ you through it, right?”

You nod, and Bucky leans back forward, bumping your noses together.

“Trust me?”

“Yes.” You breathe, and he grins.

“Good girl.”

Heat floods between your legs, and oh. You like that. You’re shaking a little bit, you like it so much. Want it so much. Want Bucky.

Like he’s reading your mind, he rasps against your lips. “You enjoyed other things before?”

You nod, unable to tell if that’s another flush or just how turned on you are, and Bucky smirks.

“Like what?” He kisses your cheek, massaging your thighs. “Tell me what you like, sweetheart. What you want.”

“I- I want to be under.” You whisper, and you think his hands might be magic. Pulling answers out of you that you would’ve rather died with an hour ago. “Want you over me. Tell- Telling me what to do.”

Bucky hums, nosing at your neck. You close your eyes, forcing on.

“Tell- Tell me how good I’m doing. And- Other stuff.”

He leans back, and your core throbs at the shine in his eyes. Like he’s going to eat you alive. “Other stuff?” He rasps, and you nod weakly.

“If you can- Can do that.” It’s hard to focus, between his piercing gaze and the hand wandering between your legs. Teasing your inner thigh, until you’re voice is high and breathy. “Do that, and- and be-“

“Be a little mean?” He coos, thumb pressing over your aching button. You swallow, and nod.

“A little mean.” You echo, and Bucky grins.

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses you again, slow and romantic, and you barely notice his hand moving away. “Think that’s enough outta you for now.”

“Wha- Bucky-“

He steps away. Without warning, Bucky just backs up, and you almost fall off the counter trying to chase him. He laughs, and pushing you back into place in a second, then moves away again. Where you can’t follow.

“Bucky, come back-“

“Nope.” He grins, like he knows you’re already too lost to chase him. He probably does. Asshole. “You want me to show you?”

You scowl. “James-“

“Call me whatever you want, baby. You ain’t gonna be able to talk at the end, anyway.” He braces his hands on his hips, raising a brow. “Want me to show you.”

He won’t come back until you answer, so you just nod, crossing your arms like a scolded child. Bucky grins, and you’re hoping for another good girl and kiss, but he doesn’t even lean closer.

“Alright.” He stands a little taller. “Strip.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Strip.”

“Like, completely?”

“Hm.” He pauses, raking over your body in a way that really shouldn’t make you feel more turned on. “Yep. All of this, off.”

He waves to your body, and gives you a silent, challenging look. Like he’s expecting you to go back, and ask for that date first.

But at this point, you’re going to explode if he doesn’t make you cum. And you’ve never backed down from him before. You have no interest in starting now.

Slowly, you peel off your sweater. Your shirt. The cold air hits your bare chest, and not wearing a bra was the right choice. Bucky’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, the evidence of your effect on him straining through his pants.

Your nipples are peaked, and you awkwardly palm at them the way you’ve seen in porn. Bucky shifts on his feet, hand flexing like he’s trying not to reach for you, so you repeat the motion again.

“Pants.” He grunts, and you smile sweetly.

“Please?”

Bucky chuckles, like he can’t believe you. “Jesus, woman-“

“It’s polite-“

“If you don’t take your pants off.” He grunts, giving you a firm look. “I’m gonna rip off your pants and fuck you on this counter right now.”

You swallow. That doesn’t sound all that bad, but-

Something foolish and lovesick inside of your chest demands that tonight be special. So you move on from your breast, but give Bucky a nervous smile.

“Next time?”

He softens slightly, and nods. “Next time. Pants.”

You smile, and he smiles back. But the expression quickly shifts back into desire, as you shuffle out of your pants. You take your underwear down in one motion as well, leaving you completely exposed. At Bucky’s mercy.

And he’s just watching you.

Watching you and rubbing his crotch, where an erection is demanding attention. The lewd sight makes you fuzzy in all the right places, your own legs spreading a little wider apart.

You need him so bad it hurts. Your fingers dip into your wet pussy, clumsily rubbing your clit, and Bucky groans.

Suddenly he’s back against you, staring at your hand between your legs and panting like a dog.

“Look at you.” He groans, dragging his gaze back up your naked body. “Better than a dream.”

“Thank you.” Your hips buck up against your own, suddenly flimsy and useless hand. You’ve touched yourself before. With Bucky all around you, it’s simply not enough. “Bucky- You-You need to touch me-“

“I know.” He grunts, lips ghosting over yours. “Need you to be ready, just-“

His throat bobs as he cuts himself off, his hand on his own hard dick suddenly pressing against your pussy. A spasm shoots through your body, and you almost fly off the counter.

Bucky presses further down, attaching his lips to your neck and collarbone. His tongue flicks against a pulse point as he spreads your pussy lips. Rubbing up and down while his thumb circles around your clit, working you up and up and up. You’re panting in his ear, vulnerable and dazed, and Bucky hums against your skin.

“Shirt.” He grunts. “Get my shirt off.”

You nod, and it should be a simple task. But Bucky’s relentless. He suckles on your neck, leaving possessive bruises on your skin all while working your pussy and drawling in your ear.

“I know exactly how I want you, pretty girl.” He mutters, flicking your clit with his thumb. “Told you I’ve been thinkin’ about it forever. ‘Bout every single way I’d take you if I got the chance. And I’m gonna show you all of them,” he kisses over a bruise, teasing two fingers against your fluttering core. “But tonight, we’re takin’ it easy.”

You whine, fumbling with just the top button of his shirt. “I- I don’t want easy-“

“I know, baby.” He presses just the tip of his finger into your cunt, and you clench around him with a whine. “But you’re so sensitive.”

If you had the power right now, you’d hit him for saying it like that. All mocking and syrupy. Making you try to fuck your hips down onto his fingers. But Bucky just pulls fully out, moving his attention back to your swollen clit.

“You need to take care of the buttons.” He whispers, pushing down hard on the bundle of nerves. “They need a little extra attention.” He rubs his thumb back and forth. “Before we get goin’.”

“Fuck- Bucky-“ You breathe, almost slumped against his chest. Your fingers are shaking, desperate to just hold onto something as thighs spread as wide as they can go. “Fuck you-“

He chuckles, kissing the side of your head as his thumb picks up speed. “We’re getting there, needy girl.”

You scrape at his forearm, one hand still trying to pry his shirt open with no real resolve at all. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, the asshole. Driving you insane with the teasing over your exposed entrance, never fully offering relief. You manage to get the top button open, but then Bucky pushes down hard on your clit, and an open moan falls from your lips as you double over.

“That’s it.” Bucky laughs, low and dangerous in your ear. “Doesn’t that feel good, baby?”

You nod, watching him move on you. “Bu- Bucky-“ You pull on his collar. “Help…”

“You’ve got it.” He says simply, spreading two fingers and dragging them between your pussy lips. “Just keep tryin’.”

There is no world where you have it, but Bucky’s words are enough for you to keep grasping fruitlessly at the fabric. Your head drops onto his shoulder, as you paw at his shirt. He laughs, rumbling through his chest, and slows his pace on your clit.

“All the ways I’ve pictured havin’ you.” He mutters. “This is the prettiest. Got you nice and ready, barely even touched you.”

“You’re- You’re touching me-“

“Not like I could touch you.” He says, a deep promise in his voice. “Told you, I’m going easy on my best girl. But if I wanted…”

He chuckles, kissing the side of your head. Pushing on your clit as your body starts to wiggle, trying to find more relief. “Bucky-“

“Every time I’ve seen you, layin’ on the couch.” He presses further forward, his bulge against your thigh. “I’ve thought about putting my hands all over your perfect fuckin’ body. Touching these tits,” he ducks his head, and your breath hitches as he kisses over the curve of your breast. “Touchin’ this sweet little pussy.” He plays with your clit like it a toy. “And makin’ you squirt all over Stevie’s nice cushions.”

“I’d look at you.” You gasp, holding onto his shirt for dear life. “In your chair. Wanted to sit on your lap.”

Bucky groans, hips jerking slightly. “Shit, I’ve thought about that too. Pinning you on my cock ‘till you’re sobbing, fucking you over my desk- Christ, whenever you’d bend over I’d just want to drag your ass back and fuck it ‘till you were drooling.”

“Fuck, yes.” You’ve given up on the shirt.

Your hand is wandering down between your bodies, and you rub against Bucky’s crotch, trying to return some of the favor. Bucky moans into your ear, pressing his hand flat over your cunt.

“Shit, you- Can’t just fuckin’-“ Bucky grunts your name, and you roll your hips against his hand.

“Need it. Need it, Bucky- Just- Your fingers, please-“

“No.” He mutters, his own voice gravelly as you squeeze him. “Can’t be patient, can you, sweetheart? Want this cock so bad you’re just grabbin’ for it, wasn’t even able to get my shirt off-“

“It’s a mean game.” You breathe, and he laughs, pushing his lips back over yours.

“You started it.” He brushes the hair from your face, easily moving you backwards until you’re just groping for something of him to hold onto.

“Why can’t you just- Just fuck me-“

“Because you wanted to be a good girl.” Bucky’s kisses are turning slow. Lazy. He’s groping your pussy again, but with far less purpose.

Just spreading your arousal and teasing everywhere you need him, driving you up to an edge you think might take away your mind. A mind you’d be happy to lose for him, if he’d just take it.

“And I want to show you.” Bucky rests his thumb over your entrance, his free hand pushing on your abdomen. Forcing you to stay still. “But you’ve got a greedy pussy, sweet girl. Think you need a little break?”

You shake your head—you do not want a break—but Bucky pushes his thumb a little harder, and you squeak.

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Look at me.” He orders, and you don’t have another choice. His voice is magnetic.

With just the top button exposing his sweaty collarbone and his erection evidence that he cares about this as much as you do, all of Bucky is magnetic. Gravitational. And it makes you feel so unbelievably good, just to be seen by him.

Being fucked by him might kill you.

It’s a risk you’re willing to take.

“Hi.” He smiles, and your lips wobble with need.

“Hi.”

“You still in this?”

You nod, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

“I’d like you to say it-“

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help yourself from saying it.

It’s supposed to be mocking. But your voice is still high, and Bucky looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” He shakes his head, tone something between amused and exhausted. “Otherwise you’d be a really fuckin’ brat.”

You flush violently, and Bucky slaps your pussy once. Just enough to make you feel like you’ve been struck by lightning, and mold back into his whims.

“One day.” He drawls, one knuckle pushing up to press on your clit. “I’m gonna get you on my face. Let you ride me, fuckin’ suffocate between your legs.”

You’re shaking, watching him. He’s talking like he’s predicting the weather, but your head is running wild. The image of Bucky under you, forcing your cunt onto his generous mouth. It would be hot and wet, his hands would leave bruises, and, and-

“You’re so reactive,” he mutters, using featherlight swipes of his thumb against your clit. “Think I could make you squirt on me. It’ll be like this,” he starts to move in tiny, rapid motions back and forth. “Like this. But my tongue,” he licks up your neck, nipping at the underside of your jaw. “And your needy clit bein’ sucked like I’ve got some fuckin’ candy.”

He pinches your clit, and starts to roll it back and forth. You can feel a pressure, building and building. It’s almost blindingly good.

“You’re makin’ such nice sounds for me.” Bucky mutters. “Bet you’ll sound even better, coming apart all over my cock.”

You nod, humping into his hand. You need more, but just when you think it’s going to snap, Bucky’s hand moves back down. 

“You feel this, baby?” He circles his thumb against your hole, and you hum, eyes flutters. “She’s ready for me.”

“Yes.” You breathe. “Ready, Bucky, please- Wait-“

You almost whine when he pulls away again, but this time it’s for a good cause. Bucky rips his shirt off, tossing it to an unimportant corner of the room.

He’s a work of art. All thick, tanned muscle and scars from his time in the army. They ripple when he moves, decorate him like earned tattoos, and you want to map each one with your fingers. His arms are fucking tanks, reaching out for you, and you tumble into them without a thought.

Bucky hauls you into his arms, hooking under your ass and dragging you off the counter with only a grunt.

“Legs around me.” He orders, and you obey. It’s nice to be this close to him.

Plus the bonus, of getting to try and ride his chest while he carries you to your room. You stumble and giggle, trying to give him directions. Bucky shoves open your door with his shoulder, and you laugh as he walks backwards to the bed, his knees hitting the mattress and sending you both tumbling down.

“Shit- Bucky!” You shriek with delight as Bucky rolls you over, trapping you under his broad body. “Oh- Ooh-“

Your words fall off as he kisses you into the mattress, settling between your spread legs quickly. Your hands wander over the expanse of his back, and it’s a nice wealth to be crushed under. You’re losing cognitive function again, as Bucky ruts his still covered erection against your wet core. You don’t know how he’s kept it together so long. You feel like you’re going to cry with desperation, and you’re fully at his whims.

This is nice, though. It’s a hot pressure—still far from what you need, but enough to tide you over—and Bucky’s wall of muscle around might be the best things you’ve ever felt. Your tits pressed against his chest, his arms braced by your head as you just make out like teenagers. He glides one hand down, rolling your nipple between calloused fingers, and you gasp softly.

“Bu- Bucky-“

“I’m gonna start slow.” He murmurs, low and commanding. “Then pick it up. Fuck you ‘till you can’t walk, baby. Give you what you deserve.” He drops his hips, forcing you to stop grinding up. “That sound good?”

You nod, blinking hopelessly up at him, and he smiles.

“Good girl.” You get a sweet kiss on your cheek, his beard tickling softly. “Stay down.”

You don’t understand the request until he’s moving again, and suddenly it seems impossible. Being naked in front of him had been one thing. Naked, sprawled out in bed below him, and watching him strip is another thing.

Bucky sits up on his knees, never breaking eye contact as he pulls off his belt. You start to chew on your lower lip, and he moves back forward, stopping you with a gentle press of his thumb.

“Easy.” He murmurs. “Relax.”

You whimper, but try to. For Bucky.

And you think you might be turning into a puddle anyway, under the reverence in his gaze.

Bucky gets his pants off with practiced ease, and your mouth falls open.

His cock is thick and big. Veiny in a way you want to feel dragging against you, the head red and angry. Your breath catches as he starts to stroke it, just watching you wait for him.

Your legs close, trying to rub together for some friction. Bucky grabs your knee, and drags them back apart.

“Let me see you.” His thumb rubs in small circles. In a perfect rhythm, with his hand beating his cock. “Nice and relaxed for me, doll. Need you to be relaxed.”

You hum, watching him under hooded eyes. You can’t stop yourself from glancing down to his dick again. You feel empty, waiting for him. You’ve been waiting long enough as it is.

Bucky follows your gaze, and his lips twitch.

“You just walk around all the time?” He teases. “Waiting for some cock to fill you up.”

You nod, breathing through your mouth, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You whisper, dragging your gaze back to his. “Need to feel you, Bucky. Pleeease.”

He swears under his breath. “Legs a little wider. Now.”

You listen quickly, and Bucky lowers down. He drags his cock between the puffed, slick lips of your pussy, the head bumping against your clit.

“Dirty girl.” He hovers over you, watching your every breath as he plays with you. “So fuckin’ pretty, should be stuffed with cock all the time, shouldn’t you. Gonna keep you in my bed, fuck you full of me.” He kisses you quickly, his words getting rough. “My smart fuckin’ baby, begging for my cock.”

“Don’t- Don’t tease-“ You mumble, and Bucky grins.

“But you’re so pretty when I do.”

He kisses your cheek, and you feel raw. A live nerve, open for him and almost vibrating with desire. But Bucky’s hands are gentle against you. And you know.

He’s going to treat you well.

“You think you can let go for me?” His question is gentle. Almost soft. “Always workin’ so hard.” He notches himself at your entrance, and your breath catches. “I’m gonna take care of you, aren’t I.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Please.”

Bucky grins, and kisses your lips. “That’s right. You just gotta take it.”

You don’t get to even nod, before Bucky starts to push in.

And you’re not a blushing nun. You’ve used your fingers, and even some toys. Tried to see what the big deal was. But it had just felt like something was inside of you, and kind of heavy, and mostly just annoying.

This is different.

Bucky splits you open, and it knocks the air from your lungs.

“Breathe.” He grunts in your ear, and you nod uselessly. “Breathe, baby.”

You gasp for air, burying your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, and clawing at his shoulders.

He mutters your name, and you try to arch your back up, inviting more. You need more. Everywhere he isn’t feels cold and hollow. Bucky needs to smear himself all over you, or you’re going to lose your mind.

“More.” You manage to croak out, and Bucky grunts.

“Are you-“

“Yes- Fuuuuck-“

You moan, loud and shameless, as Bucky presses deeper in. He bullies your pussy open, thick cock pressing deep into you and making your feel more full than you could’ve ever felt possible. Your body feels like it’s singing, a shiver of delight pushing up your spine as he hits that spot inside you that you weren’t even sure was real.

Your pussy clenches involuntarily, and Bucky hisses in your ear.

“Shit- Relax.” His thumb snakes between your bodies, massaging your clit. “Let me in, babydoll, come on-“

The massaging helps. You melt into him with a shaking breath, head tipping back when he bottoms out.

Bucky’s head drops into your chest, his breath hot against your breasts. You’re just sitting in each other, in the sticky, feverish heat that might drive you insane.

“You feel… fuckin’ perfect.”

Bucky’s voice is a rasp, and he sounds like a man ruined.

You might have already lost your mind.

“You too.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.

The sound is a vibration, and you bite your lip as pleasure rushes right down to your toes.

“Oh… God.” You squeeze your eyes shut, clenching again, and Bucky grabs your hips.

“You gotta stop doin’ that-“

“Can’t.” You whine. “’S- You did it, you spent forever working me up, and- And now-“

His muscles shift around you, and that’s enough for your body to keen. Your back arches, pussy squeezing, and Bucky makes a guttural sound from his chest.

You squeak, when he pulls the tiniest amount out and slams back in. Your body goes completely limp, and Bucky pushes up over you, his cock still buried deep inside as he stares down at you.

“For someone who asked me to teach her, you’re bad at takin’ directions.”

“You- Bucky-“ He’s fucking you, shallow and slow. Just dragging back and forth. You might cry over it. “You- You knew that already-“

“I did.” He muses, pressing your hips further down. Forcing you to feel every thrust of his cock against your cervix. “It’s something that I love about you, y’know? So sweet and mouthy, all at once. My dream girl. So far outta my reach.”

He angles you a little up, letting him rut against your g-spot, and any chance of a sassy retort is knocked out of your head.

“Not right now, though.” His lips twitch. “Bet you’d tell me anythin’ right now, if I fucked you nice and properly. Fucked you like you deserve?”

Your head bobs, words slurred on lust. “Any- Anything, Bucky, oh my god- mmmmh-“

His thumb swipes your clit, and it’s like a tiny shock you can’t even react to. Your body jerks, but Bucky just pins you back into the mattress.

“Think I don’t want you to talk right now.” Bucky leans down, smirking as you blink with teary eyes. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we sweetheart?”

There’s something mean and powerful, radiating off of him right now. He really knows exactly where he has you right now. And you have no desire to be anywhere else. 

“Ye- Yes.” 

“Might’ve fucked you nicely, if we’d just talked a month ago.” He raises his brows. “But you made me wait for this pretty pussy. Hurting us both, baby.”

“I- I was-“

“I know.” He kisses your nose. “You are a fuckin’ brat. Bet you thought about this every time you touched yourself.”

“I- I did.” You confess. “Needed your cock, Bucky. You’re- You’re so big-“

You mewl, as he rolls his hips and slams back in. He kisses you, open-mouthed and sloppy, and you can feel your slick need running down your ass. Or just Bucky’s sweat, as he tenses with the effort to hold himself back.

Effort is visibly, slowly slipping.

“You feel that? Feel this dick inside of you?” He fucks a little harder, and your head rolls. “All yours, babydoll. This hard, just for you.”

You whine, and Bucky sucks on a soft spot at the base of your throat.

“You’re a natural.” He groans against your skin. “Made for this cock, made to be my pretty doll, and- shit-“

He rises back up, watching you with a dark, hungry gaze.

“You’re trying so hard, aren’t you. To not choke my dick with your tight little pussy.”

“I- I am, Bucky- Please-“

“You gonna be good and listen to me, now?”

You nod, doe-eyed and cockdrunk, and Bucky hums in satisfaction.

“Hands on my shoulders.” He instructs, and your body somehow finds the strength to listen. “Mouth open. No holding back, wanna hear how you like it. Hear you scream my name.”

He kisses under your jaw, and you moan loudly. Bucky’s lips curve, and he pulls a little further out than before.

“Just like that. Good, isn’t it?”

“So good.” You whine, and Bucky hums.

“Stay just like this for me, doll.” He drags fully out, then slams back in. You think you see stars behind your eyes, and a sound you didn’t know you could make is pulled from your chest.

“Buuccky-“

“I know. Needy girl, wound up so tight.” He sets a slow but brutal pace, his hands bruising into your hips as he holds you down. “I’ve got you now.”

And he does.

Bucky’s got you so good, you’re already ruined for anyone else.

He fucks you the same way he’s been kissing and touching you. Like he’s trying to lay a claim. Make it so there’s no question what he wants, no doubt in your head that this is anything but serious. His hips piston against you, but it’s not rapid. It’s the measured, strong work of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.

If there’s a pleasure point on your body, Bucky’s finding it and using it. You babble, as he abuses your g-spot with the thick head of his cock. His kisses swallow your every moan and plea, and you can’t think beyond his massive body, completely draped over yours. You’re tangled together, his balls slapping your ass and hands wandering over your body like he owns it.

He drags your knees up to your chest, helping him hit even deeper. You’re so wet it’s smearing all over his cock, and the sight of him driving in and out of you is enough to make that pressure in your tummy feel like it’s going to explode.

Bucky’s beyond words himself, hunching over your and taking one of your nipples in his mouth as he grabs at the other. You mewl, eyes glazed over and body overwhelmed with the need to cum. You might scream if you don’t. You’re probably already screaming.

“I- I need- Bucky, please, please, fuck-“

You scratch at his shoulder, so close to toppling over the edge but unable to figure out how to just fall. Bucky grunts, slamming down harder. His tongue swirls your nipple, sucking the peak between full lips before he crashes back up. His kiss is sloppy and open. You’re writhing in the sheet, edged into complete oblivion and on the verge of tears.

“You having some trouble, babydoll?” Bucky teases, throaty and wrecked.

You nod, shaking with the need to snap.  Bucky hums, kissing you too sweetly to be productive.

“Let go for me.” He squeezes your ass. “Just let go.”

Bucky finds your clit, and barely even offers more than a tease before you’re coming with a scream of his name.

Your back flies off the mattress, your hips bucking, and you’ve never cum this hard in your life. The tension in you burst like fireworks, heat pooling down your pussy and your body trembling. Your vision goes white. You might black out for a second, the daze of pleasure clouding your gaze.

There’s nothing but Bucky, still pounding into you. The obscene sounds of it, his guttural moans and the slide of his cock through your spasming cunt. His thrusts are jagged and uneven, his mouth kissing you everywhere he can seem to reach.

He follows you quickly, thick ropes of cum painting your insides and dribbling out of your pussy.

Bucky kisses you one more time, before he pulls out. It’s slower, like he’s trying to memorize you. You reach up to cup his face, smiling against his lips, and he lets out a heavy breath.

“That wasn’t too-“

“Perfect.” You whisper, and he relaxes.

“Good. Good.” He rises back up, brushing away the hair stuck to your face.

For a second, you just watch each other.

And with Bucky looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the universe, you feel like it.

He certainly treats you like it, too. Cleaning you up like you’re a princess, a treatment you never thought you’d want until it was Bucky offering. A warm, wet cloth between your thighs and a glass of water. He carries you into the bathroom, changes the sheets, then brings you back to bed.

He pauses after he sets you down, hovering around the mattress with a frown.

You scoot a little to the side, give him a hopeful look, and his shoulders slump.

He crawls into bed next to you, pressing his face into your breasts and holding you tight.

“We got things to talk about.” He mutters, and you hum, playing with his hair between your fingers.

“I know.”

“I was serious, about all of it-“

“I believe you.”

Bucky looks up at you with tired, but happy eyes. You smile, and they crinkle when he returns it.

It doesn’t matter if you’re the most anything in the world.

To him, you seem to be the world. And that’s more than enough.

“I’d like to take you out.” He says. “On a real date. Then the gala, too. If you-“

“Yes.” You beam. “Yes, please. I’d like that a lot.”

Part 28: no rest this time!

🔹🔹🔹

You were still shaking as you came to a sudden stop to lean against an old brick building.

Your fingers were all hot, your arms tingled with numbness while your legs were the opposite sting of pain and too much feeling. You were gonna be sick, you were certain you were gonna throw up this time, you're a total mess and you know it, blood spackled rumpled shirt, bruises dot your skin from Cassandra's little test, and you can discern that you've got a manic look on your face to go with your heaving chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you're hit with yet another fractured memory that isn't yours, the ache behind your eyes makes you want to drop to the dirty ground, just what the hell did that Martian do to you!?

🔹

“are you sure this is safe? I don't think anywhere in Gotham counts as normal soil condition.”

The muttered words make you roll your eyes and let out yet another sigh, your head whips towards the speaker while you keep your pace up. “I checked it all out last week, even did a macronutrient test, it's the perfect place to test the hardiness of it.”

Your boot catches on a vine, and you stumble into a tree trunk right after you finish speaking.

Her total silence behind you is telling.

“…look, there's water, plenty of sunlight and shade, the swamp provides great nutrients and organic matter. And there's even some old ranger shack thing out here, so observation will be a lot more comfortable. Okay?”

Your huffy muttering sounds more and more defensive even to your own ears, but you've already put the time and resources into this to think about quitting now. So, you keep trekking through leaf loam and snagging roots with stubborn determination.

After walking into multiple spiderwebs, and tripping one more time on a stump that you could've sworn wasn't there before, you finally spot the building up ahead through the trees.

It's all overgrown with ivy, and the old radio tower looks like it's gonna collapse from erosion and decay, but the lodge style building is still standing strong, windows look to be intact and everything.

At last, you turn and look at your sweaty companion behind you. The redhead gives you an unreadable look from behind her glasses while she shifts her backpack straps uncomfortably.

You jerk your head towards the building pointedly, “well? What do you think. Ready to call this place our temporary home?”

She gives the building an assessing look, them glances at you once again, lips pursed in such a way that you know she's holding a lot back. “…is there even bedding here? Water?”

You gesture flippantly at the place, turning on your heel to stubbornly walk closer. “There's at least one bed, and there's solar power, we'll figure out the water thing.”

The redhead gapes at you and quickly scrambles after you. “Hold on, one bed? Possibly no running water? This isn't a-a sleepover, (name)!”

her boots crunch dry leaves loudly behind you in her quickened haste, twigs and moss making the terrain dangerously uneven. it’s perfect in your eyes.

You ignore her outrage. “sometimes science is uncomfortable, this is nothing compared to what we'll walk out of here with anyways. Are you willing to live for your work? Or are you caving as soon as *you're* the one who's a little inconvenienced? Now let's go see if we can't break in here, a little poison ivy won't kill you, Pam.”

🔹

you hate every bit of this, the ache behind your eyes and the sting of pain and leftover adrenaline in all your extremities, why did this have to happen now? you weren’t ready to leave! you didn’t have any concrete plans, no identity or bunker to lay low in. no backup or extraction plan, you’d naively thought that waking up here with nothing to work with was your rock bottom worse scenario.

now here you are, alone, mind compromised and your next moves guessable to someone with any intelligence. you don’t have supplies or tech to work with here, not even decent clothing or a tactical bag. you loathe this feeling of helplessness, it makes you feel utterly incompetent after all your years of infiltration missions.

what would natalia do in this situation? she’d no doubt be securing some type of safety first and foremost, probably running off to barton’s farm in your old world.

the memory of the blonde archer makes you roll your eyes as you lean against the brick wall, the idiot would be offering you a pullout couch and some nasty microwave pizza right now…

you jerk away from the wall, eyes roving the place you’re in critically.

industrial district, a few old factories and warehouse looking buildings dot the land like ugly rusted stalagmites, a few brick homes dot the empty spaces in-between the overgrown concrete lots, not the best cover, but it looks like there’ll be less chance of full security camera coverage out here.

you stalk closer to the homes as inconspicuously as you can, avoiding looking at them and keeping your head down pointing at the sidewalk. a dog barks from inside a fence, the clang of a garage echoes in the distance, this place is still clearly lived in, just normal people going about their lives while you’re trying not to lose your everything in broad daylight.

something catches your eye, there in a side yard, laundry strung out on a line, no visible car in the driveway.

it’s easy to slip over the rusted chain link fence and snag an unmarked jacket off the line, before returning to the sidewalk like nothing happened. it’s at least clean, a bit big but that’s an advantage when you want to disappear completely, it’ll cover the blood flecks on your shirt anyways, and the big hood makes you feel just a bit secure.

now for somewhere to hide out and see what happens next.

maybe you should follow your fractured memories to that cabin?

🔹

moving through gotham in the daylight is dichotomous between feeling much lighter than gotham’s nightlife, and a quiet terror in the back of your mind that you’ll be recognized be someone. a mix of wary paranoia and curiosity for the city you’ve resided in for so long.

the people out and about are moving with the casual urgency of a busy life, work, shopping, loitering at restaurants or other places of rest and convenience, a few kids gossip loudly about the fires outside a 7/11, they’re clearly ditching school just based on the uniforms. you’re tired, really tired at this point. getting your ass kicked and your mind thrown through a blender wasn’t on your itinerary for the day, and all the walking on an empty stomach among the normal crowds isn’t improving a damn thing. you seriously doubt any of these people feel like they’re being hunted by unseen forces at every corner.

you can’t keep your eyes away from fire escapes, alleyways bathed in shadow between tall buildings, rooftops looming above, the clear skies, anyone walking a little too slow, you avoid traffic cams and security feeds above shops as much as physically possible, but there’s only so much you can do in a metropolis city like gotham.

it’s plain stressful.

between the crowds and the bad traffic spots, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the window of a shop, some little artisan bistro that you don’t bother reading the full name of. you look rough, bags line your eyes and make you look exhausted, (you are) your clothing is rumpled, and you look pale and drawn out compared to your usual tone. your gaze subconsciously drifts to the mark on your temple peeking out of your stolen hood, that stupid wound from your last moments of normalcy here….or you mean the last moment before you died and occupied this body?

you turn away from the glass and move, heading for the edge of the city. thinking about this too long makes your chest ache.

🔹

it’s far too humid under your jacket as you drop down on an overgrown bench overlooking an old rotten gazebo, the sun is dangerously close to dipping by now, and you’re still not at the damn station, or even near the swamp, maybe your memories were too unreliable to actually find it anyways. you seriously miscalculated how far you could move in one day in this battered body, no enhancement, no muscle training beyond aesthetic, and you’re stiff as steel beams from the soreness.

you feel old.

you stare out at the lake as sunlight dances over the surface like orange and gold silk, it’s actually quite pretty…

you’re really thirsty. you should’ve nabbed some type of supplies from the city, you were just too paranoid and worked up to even think about ducking into any stores (where you could be trapped or cornered) and now you’re paying yet again for your idiotic response to high stress.

you let yourself groan and slump further down on the bench with a deep sigh, tucking your hands behind you to lean back on, then you hiss softly as a bramble digs into your thumb.

you shake your hand out and wipe the speck of blood off on your pants, your gaze wanders over the calm water again as you try to relax your legs and stretch out the cramps, breathing exercises help.

tilting your head back, you shut your eyes and just settle into the slight comfort that rest brings you, you can figure things out after you take a little rest right?

your muscles soften, your breathing softens as the ache in your everything lessens to a dull knot that you can actually ignore, you’re just tired.

and relaxed.

you’re too relaxed.

the landscape is too calm, you try to move your legs just to stretch and get up, but something snake-like has curled around your ankles.

your brain briefly flashes back to chains, a chair, a test of loyalty and your servitude. your breathing spikes despite the complete calm in the rest of your body, you need to get away from-

“you look a little held up.”

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: I'D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY AND NOT ANSWERING COMMENTS! somehow I got logged out of my accounts when I tried to add my laptop on so I am VERY SORRY FOR THAT Y'ALL!!! Anyways I hope y'all like the chapter! I've put off this part for WAYY too long since the last Pamela chapter 😭 I can't believe this is almost at thirty parts now wth!? I hope y'all have an amazing day/night and remember to drink your water! 💜🩵💜

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Daylight wasn't what woke up Bucky the next morning; it was absence. He stirred probably past 9 am, feeling relaxed and complete, which reminded him of the peace he felt whenever you slept by his side, but this time he got to hold you, caress, and kiss you without the voice in his mind that told him that he couldn't do that.

His hand landed on the spot beside him. You were gone, probably not too long ago, since the sheets were still warm.

A knock interrupted his scanning of the room.

"Just a second," Bucky exclaimed as he got up. He padded towards the door and opened it as he yawned. “Morning.”

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes. I hope that you had a good sleep. I brought you this so you can check if they fit.” Alfred said, handing him a bag of clothes. “Master Bruce wants you to know that if you need anything, from clothes to essentials, he would gladly lend his card to buy what you need.”

Bucky widened his eyes as he stared down at a bunch of clothes. From what he could see, judging by the fabrics, they all were appropriate to the weather.

“Tell him I don't need this.” Bucky tried to hand back the bag, but Alfred shook his head.

“They might not all be related, but the stubbornness runs deep in this family,” Alfred said. “The sooner you understand that, the easier it will be living with them.”

“Morning!” Your voice cut Bucky’s complaints.

“Ah, Miss Wayne, the seamstress and the tailor will be here at noon for the fittings to the gala.”

“That's great! Can you please call them to add Bucky to the list? He will need a suit for the gala, too.”

Alfred bowed his head. “Consider it done.” He said, and then slightly turned to see Bucky, who was blushing, almost daring him to utter a word. When he didn't, he nodded and dismissed himself after announcing that the breakfast was ready.

You narrowed your eyes, following Alfred with your stare until he took a turn to the left.

“Did I interrupt something?” You asked, pointing behind you to where Alfred had headed.

“No, why do you say that?” Bucky swallowed.

You hummed. “He was smiling.”

“He was not.”

“He raised me, believe me, I know how he looks when he's trying to stop himself from breaking his composture.” You shook your head. “His mouth was twitching up the moment he turned.”

Bucky chuckled and then reached his hand to pull you to him.

“Hi,” you mumbled close to his lips.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He said, wrapping his arms around you, the bag of clothes dangling against your back.

It was your turn to be shy; your cheeks were hot when you buried your face in his chest.

“Stop! If they hear you calling me that, we will be hearing them mocking us till next year's Christmas.” You said, slapping with much force his chest.

“There's no one around.” He assured and kissed your hair.

“We should go and eat breakfast.” You said, tilting your head to look at him.

“Give me one minute, I like having you in my arms.”

“I like it too.” You wrapped your arms around him.

He scanned your face and kissed your forehead, enjoying the peaceful moments you had left, knowing that the manor would wake up in a few hours and having you this close would have to wait until the lights were off.

The next few hours, Bucky and you lived in a bubble. The manor was still asleep, minus breakfast with Duke, who retired to the Batcave as soon as he finished his plate — so you and Bucky took advantage of it and spent as much quality time as you could.

Bucky noticed rather soon that you looked different now, not due to the serum, but because now there was a carefree attitude in you that he had not been able to see during your time in New York. He realized, as he stared at you as you took his hand and walked with him around the common areas, noticing that the semipermanent frown, and the way the weight on your shoulders that had become so familiar and so you, weren't there.

Resolving the case, finding those missing people had done that. Or the meaning of it to you: fulfilling your purpose.

You also told him about your conversation with Jason at the compound. It was still hard to talk about it, but once you had done it, the pain had subsided. During the first week after your return, Jason set aside his self-inflicted exile and returned to the manor with the sole purpose of talking with you and reconnecting with you for more than a few hours like he used to.

You had ended up breaking down after most of those days; he and Bruce had been at your side. And after days of pushing it, Jason went with you to visit his grave.

You had confessed to him that you hadn't been there since the funeral, and even then, you had been numb. So he went with you, held you as you cried, and apologized to him over and over again. And he repeated to you how much he loved you and that there was nothing to apologize for.

He held you through the nightmares that going there brought back, too.

You also shared with him that you had started therapy the week prior. Babs and Bruce had checked your therapist's background multiple times. So far, they knew you were a vigilante, and you were sure that they had their suspicions about your alter ego, but once you felt more comfortable, you would disclose it with them.

At noon sharp, your family reunited in the common room to welcome the assembly of people who would be in charge of working on your garments. Steph, Cass, and you went upstairs to your room, followed by four women who carried a handful of options for you to wear. Babs was already waiting for you upstairs, having used one of the regular elevators.

“Have you done this before?” Tim asked him. He was already on his final look since he hadn't needed any big alteration besides dropping the hemline. “You look like you are about to give a presentation naked.”

“Having strangers' hands on me isn't my favorite thing to do.”

Tim nodded solemnly, “Don't worry, they are used to us asking for breaks when it gets too much. Don't be afraid to take a few minutes outside if you need it. It's a regular thing, especially if we had a… rough night out.” Tim said, then lowered his voice so only he could hear. "There was a time that I had to do a fitting a few hours after I got my ribs bruised." Your brother winced at the memory. "Longest fitting ever."

Bucky thanked him just as someone called him for his turn. Bucky took a deep breath and stepped in front of the mirror.

“Recent adoption, Mr. Wayne?” The tailor, Mr. Lee, an older man who had mentioned working for the family for years, asked over his shoulder as he wrote down his measurements.

Bruce chuckled. “I'm too old for that. He's my oldest daughter's plus one.”

That seemed to gain his attention.

“Miss Wayne’s? Gotham’s sunshine?” The old man whistled. “Should I begin sketching some options for the wedding?”

“I don't know, should he, Mr. Barnes?” Bruce asked, raising his eyebrow at Bucky.

Bucky choked on his saliva.

Your brothers laughed at the panicked look in his eyes.

The tailor chuckled and patted his back, “Don't worry, child, we are joking. Unless…” he trailed.

More laughter followed.

"You will be making me a favor with the heads-up so my team can work on her dress; several designers will be fighting only for her to see their drafts." He added with a teasing smile, noticing how Bucky blushed. "Can you lift your arms for me? Perfect."

Due to the short time they had until the gala, Mr. Lee had him wear a discarded suit of Jason's, who had similar measurements, and did the necessary adjustments.

Bucky stared at himself in the mirror as he worked on the onyx fabric around his body. Mr. Lee worked quickly and efficiently, placing pins where it was needed and hand-sewing where he could.

Once he was done, he got up and handed him a tie.

“Will you do me the favor of putting this on? If you're not comfortable with a tie around your neck, I have other options for you.”

Bucky took the tie and blinked at the older man, taken aback by the request, since he had seen how the man had adjusted the tie personally to the rest of the family.

“I can notice the tension in your body, kid. It's not my first time working with veterans.” Mr. Lee explained.

Bucky had to take a deep breath to dissolve the knot that formed in his throat. He put on the tie, making sure it wasn't too tight.

“I’ll ask Mrs. Duncan what color Miss Wayne chose for her dress. Would you rather add a handkerchief or a pin so you can match?”

“A handkerchief would be nice.”

“Consider it done. What do you think?” Mr. Lee questioned, pointing to the mirror.

Bucky stared at his reflection. He flexed his fists instinctively, making the vibranium shine. Noticing the glare, his eyes dropped to his left hand.

Mr. Lee noticed and got closer. "I can ready up a matching glove if you want me to. But if I'm allowed to speak, let me tell you that it won't be needed."

Bucky considered it for a second.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Bruce said, approaching from behind him, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

“I think I’ll be okay without it,” Bucky said, earning a soft smile from both gentlemen.

“Any adjustment you want or need?”

Bucky moved his arms and legs, similarly to how he had seen your family do, to check his mobility in the suit.

"I think it's perfect," Bucky said.

He found you later in the dining room, talking with your sisters over your plates. Bruce had told him that usually at that hour, they would have lunch before going back to the Batcave for training. The moment you saw him entering the room, your smile widened, and you reached your hand for him to get close and sit next to you.

"Hi," you mumbled, after he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Hi." He responded with the same breathy tone you had used, sitting next to you with one arm on the back of your chair. You leaned into him with a wide grin, eyes dropping to his lips.

"Ugh, I'm gonna throw up. Can't you go and be gross somewhere else?" Cass groaned.

"Cass, please, at some point, you'll have to get used to seeing us around like this." You said, resting your hand on his knee.

She narrowed her eyes, "Okay, I can try."

"Thank you." You breathed out with relief.

She lifted a finger and then added, "With one condition."

You cursed under your breath.

"Bradley agrees to train us while he's here."

"Who the fuck is Bradley?" You frowned, and then she pointed a finger at Bucky. "Of course." You muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. "What do you say?" You turned to Bucky.

"I'm not sure what I can teach you, to be honest," Bucky said.

"We all have room to grow. Like Tim," She pointed to the arched entryway where said brother was entering. "He's great with gadgets, and he's a great detective, but he relies too much on his bo staff, take him that and his utility belt, and he's cooked."

"Wow, thank you for the observation, sister." Tim huffed with sarcasm, sitting next to her. "Why did I earn that?"

"I'm trying to convince Brooklyn to train us while he stays here."

"I see." Tim hummed and then leaned in. "Cass struggles with the gadgets and teamwork; she's more of a hand-to-hand combatant."

Steph snorted, crossing her arms in front of her as she leaned back. "I can use some new tricks, too."

"What'cha say?" Cass said, looking expectantly at him.

"I guess we can work something out." He said, and even if he was technically forced to it, it felt amazing to be useful and have people actually want to learn from him.

The three of them cheered and even went for a high five with both of you.

As the days passed by, Bucky got to learn how seriously your family took training. He had seen you back at the compound, working for hours on your form, going over and over through your techniques. Here, in your home, things weren't that far apart, but there was a synchrony in the team he rarely saw whenever more than one trained at the same time, all with a clinical sharp focus on getting better because all of you were conscious of what it meant and how all those skills would help not only you to survive but to save people.

For a second, he had fallen into the idea that they would be cocky, a little difficult to teach, since most of you had years of training. But he was surprised to know that the moment they put a foot on the training mat, everyone was humble, ready to learn — even Cass and Damian, who heard about the deal and quickly joined, left their snappy attitude behind.

"Hey, Sarge. Am I doing this right?" Tim asked from across the mat, going through the movement he had taught them that afternoon. The rest of your younger siblings had already left, leaving him behind since he seemed to struggle the most.

Bucky approached. "Make sure to plant your feet properly, and when you do that swing, remember to use your waist as you move."

Tim frowned and shifted his feet, and then repeated the move.

"Like this?" He asked, glancing over at Bucky.

"Exactly." Bucky nodded. "Try it again. It must feel natural to you."

Bucky watched as he went through the motions a couple of times more and corrected a few things until Tim could do it without struggle.

"Thank you, Sarge. I'll go upstairs to take a shower and change before dinner. Want me to send you something down here?" He asked, taking his bag and water bottle from the bench.

"I'm okay, your sister is supposed to…"

He got cut off by the ding of the elevator.

"Are you done for today?" You asked, stepping out of the elevator the moment the doors opened.

"Yes, I'm already on my way out," Tim said and kissed your cheek. "I'll see you at dinner." Then he glanced over his shoulder towards Bucky. "Take good care of her, Sarge."

“Since when does he call you Sarge?" You asked, looking as the doors closed and the elevator went up.

"Since we spent a whole sparring session talking about the 40s. He had a lot of questions." Bucky replied, opening his bag and burying his hand inside.

“Yeah, that sounds like him. He and Alfred can go for days talking about the Howling Commandos.” You said smiling, and took a seat on the steptool you had been using in the past days. “Same exercise as the last time?” You asked, turning to face away from him and towards the exit of the cave. In the past days, you had been sitting there as he walked away and forced you to focus on his voice.

“I have something different planned for today.” He said behind you, extending his hand and showing you a silk tie.

“Oh.” You turned your head to look at him. "I didn't know you were into that. And here?" You pointed at the room. "I thought you said sex was off the table since there were too many people here who don't care about privacy."

“This is for the exercise.” Bucky chuckled. “And, can you blame me? The last few days, whenever we pull apart of a kiss, there's at least one of your siblings behind you, throwing daggers with their eyes at me.”

"Don't remind me." You mumbled as he blinded you with the tie over your eyes. “So… no kinky sex?”

He tilted your face up with his fingers and kissed your lips. “Not today.” He muttered against your mouth.

You pouted as he moved away.

“You’re so mean, may I remind you that my room is soundproof?” You said, using your hearing to follow him with your head. “Do you wanna go upstairs and corroborate that?” You smirked when you heard him laugh again.

“Focus, baby.” He said, getting further away.

“You haven't given me my instructions, Sarge.” You pointed out.

“Really? But you’re already doing so well.” He made his voice sound deeper.

You pressed your thighs together.

“Please, don't say things like that.” You begged, swallowing a whimper, the fact that you couldn't see and could only hear his steps and follow his voice made the situation more intense for you.

“Why not?” He got closer from your right. “From what I can hear, you liked that. Your heart is beating so fast.” The last part, he whispered it, and the moment he got next to you, he found his place behind you. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Bucky.” You whimpered his name, feeling his breath fanning your cheek as he leaned from behind you.

“There are four speakers around the cave, and I will play a sound from each of them randomly. Just keep breathing and try to focus on each sound, and tell me what you hear and from where.” He whispered against your ear.

“Sounds simple.” You swallowed.

“The blindfold is there to help you focus on your hearing; it will make it easier.”

“Okay.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Ready?”

You nodded.

A beat.

“Steps, in front of me." You said.

"Close or far?"

"Close."

"Very good. Continue."

"I hear… people chatting? From my left. I can't decipher what they are saying.” You grunted, frustrated.

Bucky chuckled. “That’s why we are practicing.”

You sighed and tilted your head to your right, hoping that it could help you decipher the other sound.

“Steps, probably two people? It's more than one, I’m sure. Behind me. Sounds far.”

“Good job, baby.” His praise went directly to your core, and you shifted slightly in your seat, thighs rubbing to relieve the building heat.

“Pay attention, sweetheart, we are amping the difficulty.”

Before you could ask what he meant, you felt his hands on you from behind. His palms gripped you by your waist, and then you felt his lips against your neck.

“Bucky.” You whimpered.

“Listen up, baby.” He said against your neck. “Be good for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” You breathed out.

You tilted your head, giving him more access to your neck as he took his time with his mouth busy on your skin with open-mouthed kisses followed by love bites.

You tried to focus. You did. But as the sound went off, Bucky bit your neck and then, to your surprise, licked the zone where his teeth had pressed. You jolted in your seat at the feeling; his strong grip on your waist stopped you from moving.

“What did you hear, baby?” He said in your ear.

“Mmm, I— fuck.”

You could feel his grin against your skin when he moved your face to kiss you on the lips.

“Focus.”

“You’re making it difficult.” You whined.

“Out there won't be easy.”

“Yeah, well, it's not as those goons would latch themselves to my neck like you're doing, and definitely not making me feel — fuck, like you do.”

“They better won't be.” His chest rumbled. “Listen up, baby.”

You concentrated, even closing your eyes under the tie.

Will you… A male voice said from far away.

“Wait, is that your voice?”

“Shh, focus.” He kissed your cheek and then slowly let you go, taking a step back to let you concentrate.

go on… Now it came from behind you.

The next words came from the other two speakers, and as soon as the last word was uttered, you gasped.

“Bucky!” You mumbled, raising your hands to lower the blindfold. Once you could see, you turned towards his heartbeat. He was standing to your right behind you, with a nervous smile.

“So… what did you hear?” He asked, but instead of replying, you jumped off the seat and rushed towards him, crashing your lips with his as your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him down to you. “That's not an answer.” He mumbled against your lips, carrying you and helping you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You repeated the words he said, pulling away enough to meet his eyes. “And my answer is yes, I will, I’d love to.”

The smile on his face was bright as he pulled you back to him, kissing you breathless.

“When?” You asked with excitement.

“Right now.”

You widened your eyes. “What?”

He nodded, and with you still in his arms, he grabbed his bag and then walked towards the elevator.

“Wait, Bucky, I have to get ready, I can't be looking like this for our first day!” You grabbed your oversized shirt as of proving your point.

“You look beautiful.” He said, kissing your cheek.

“We are wearing gym clothes!” You tried to get off his arms, but he tightened his grip, pressing your chest flush against his.

“Your point?”

“At least let me go change.” You pouted.

He kissed your pout and sighed. “Fuck, you're not playing fair.”

“Better get used to it.” You sang as the doors opened and walked with you in arms.

“Yeah, I'm seeing that.” He smiled fondly and then stopped right under the doorframe. “Fine, you win, but only 15 minutes.” You made your best impression of Bambi eyes, widening your eyes and furrowing your brow; the trembling lip was the cherry on top. “I’ll take a quick shower and meet you at your room.”

He let you go with a kiss and began walking towards his room.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“That will ruin the surprise.”

“Bucky!”

He chuckled and turned around, walking backwards.

“Just wear something that makes you feel good; whatever you wear will be perfect.” He turned around, his shoulders shaking at your reaction.

He's so damn lucky that I—

You gasped, clasping your hand over your mouth, swallowing the words that almost got out.

“Oh my God, oh my God.” You chanted as you stepped back into the elevator, pressing the button to your floor. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

The doors closed, muffling your panic.

God bless the fact that your room was soundproof. The change had been made by Bruce months after your adoption, once he realized the sudden noises startled you, especially when you were inside your room — he did everything in his power to make it distinct to the cells HYDRA kept you.

During your childhood, the soundproof walls assured you that no sound from outside would disturb you, as you grew up, it assured that your family wouldn't hear the loud music that you played, and as an adult, well, it drowned the sounds you were currently making.

"Where the fuck is it?" You asked out loud again with frustration, throwing another set of clothes out of your walking closet and onto the floor. " I swear I saw it — yes!" You reached your hand and pulled out the ítem you were looking for.

5 minutes had gone by already since you bolted out of the elevator and into your room. Countless clothes were scattered around inside and outside the walking closet, and several drawers were open with fabrics popping out of them.

You jumped into the shower, careful not to get your hair wet. As soon as you were out and wrapped in a towel, you moved to do your makeup and quickly covered the basics.

4 minutes for him to be there.

You cursed under your breath after glancing at your watch and rushed to put on your selected outfit. Usually, if this had been any other date with another person, you would have gone for your preselected option, the selection you would have made after finding out through them or through other sources the place and plan for the night.

This time, however, you were lost… and somehow it made the whole thing better.

The moment you heard the familiar knock on your door, you jumped out of your seat, put on your favorite lipstick, and rushed to open the door.

“Ready?” Bucky was waiting for you, wearing a pair of dark jeans with a white dress shirt.

“Yeah.” You said with a big smile. Your heart was still racing, adrenaline still running inside your body. “Let’s go.”

He smiled back and offered his arm for you to take.

“Where are we going?” You asked, taking his arm and falling into step next to him.

“Patience, baby.”

You huffed.

He guided you down the stairs, but instead of leading you to the foyer to take your coat and step outside, he turned and guided you towards the back of the house.

“Where are we going?” You frowned.

“Just a little bit more.” He said.

Another turn, and after passing by the library, you figured out exactly where you were going. The hall led to only one place: the greenhouse.

“After you,” he said, opening the door for you.

The greenhouse was probably one of your favorite places at the manor, just as the library and wherever your dad was; the reason was simple: it brought comfort to you. When you were younger, gardening became one of those activities that allowed you to step out of your mind and relax. You could spend hours there, lost in the colors and the scent of nature.

At the center of the greenhouse, a table had been placed, adorned with flowers and lamps, and two plates covered by silver plate covers were awaiting both of you.

“How?” You whispered, taking the seat he offered you.

“I asked around, I had to improvise since most of my date plans were thinking with us being in New York.” He sat across from you. “I thought it would be a good idea to be in a private place. It helped that Alfred told me about this place being special for you.”

“It is.”

“Can you tell me about it? He offered to explain, but I told him I wanted to hear it from you.”

“This place and the library were my grandma's spots; she dedicated a lot of time to them. After she died… the whole hallway was shut down.” Your eyes drifted to a spot in the corner of the greenhouse, and for a moment, it was as if you had gotten back in time. “My first weeks here were hard, I barely slept, too much noise, and nowhere felt safe. One night, I started wandering around. Dad and Dick came back from patrol and noticed I was gone. They searched everywhere until Dick looked here before they called the police. He found me sleeping in that corner.”

Bucky followed the place you were pointing at.

“He woke me up, tearing up, and when Dad asked me why I was here, I told him I found this place peaceful, even if it was practically abandoned. He opened the hallway the next morning and started renovating it, and when I asked to spend more time here, he allowed it. A week later, I asked for some gardening tools and a few seeds.”

“You did an amazing job.” He mumbled, looking around at the several plants around you.

“I had help.” You smiled fondly, thinking about the many friends who had either gifted you plants or helped you set up, especially Poison Ivy, who, once she became your friend, made punctual visits to help you deal with the more stubborn plants. "This side of the house became mine and Jason's. He loves spending time at the library, even now, every time he comes, he sneaks there, sometimes while I'm checking the plants, he would come here and read."

He hummed.

“You do know you're wonderful, right?” He said, staring at you.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head.

“Really, you are. I mean, I already knew it, but seeing you here, in your home, surrounded by your family — you truly are wonderful, Miss Wayne.”

“I hate you.” You said, covering your face with both hands.

“You don't.”

“I know I don't.” You took a deep breath and lowered your hands. “You are also wonderful — ah ah, don't you dare say otherwise. You are, Mister Barnes. Besides Alfred and Gordon, I have not seen anyone else outside our family keeping up with the craziness that we are.” You smiled softly, reaching your hand to grab his left hand that was resting on the table. “I'm so lucky.”

You saw his cheeks turn red, blushing profusely at your words.

“We should eat.”

You laughed at his attempt to dismiss the compliment. However, your laugh died the moment you lifted your silver plate case.

"You didn't," You whispered, taking a deep breath and letting the smell of your food hit you.

"I told you I asked around. Tim told me you loved this dish, and when I asked Alfred, he seconded it."

"You really thought of everything."

"You deserve that and more." He shrugged.

You had to bite your tongue to avoid spilling your feelings right there. Dinner went by easily as breathing, as every single minute you had spent with Bucky. The conversation was interesting, and it warmed your heart the moment he started rambling about your siblings' improvements. After dinner was over, he got up and stood next to you, offering his hand.

"Would you dance with me?" He asked.

"There's no music." You said with a smile as you took his hand and got up.

"That I can fix." He kissed your cheek and took out his phone.

A beat later, you heard the first chord of a ballad.

Satisfied with the volume, he placed his phone on the table and then grabbed you by the waist to pull you close. Your arms found their place around his neck, and then began to sway to the beat, letting the music and his grip on you guide you.

"So, is the date going as you planned?" You asked.

"Much better."

"Thank you."

Bucky frowned, "What for?"

"I rarely let myself do spontaneous things. I'm so used to planning everything, getting several steps ahead of every single scenario, that was my version of freedom. And at first I was so anxious, but… You make me feel safe. Like I can let go for a moment and everything will be fine because you're there to catch me."

"You make me feel safe, too."

"I really, really like you, Bucky Barnes."

"I really, really like you, too, Miss Wayne." He said before closing the distance with you and kissing you.

The day of the gala started as chaotic as ever; the glam team arrived right after lunch, taking turns with each member of the family until everyone was ready and good to go.

Jason and Dick had arrived a few days earlier, taking their respective bedrooms at each side of your room, which only meant that you had two more sets of eyes watching over Bucky and you. The anticipation had been building over the days, reaching new heights after your date, and you were positive that as soon as you could, you would take Bucky out of the manor so you could break said tension and finally get past stolen moments alone with only kisses and touches over your clothes.

Having a full house meant that the manor was loud, and that you, as one of the oldest, had at least one of your siblings attached to you during the day. At first, you had thought that nights would be different with most of your family going out to patrol, but you didn't count on Duke struggling with falling asleep and knocking on your door to talk or play with Titus until he was tired enough to get back to his own room. Once he left, you would jump down to Bucky's room, but it was always so late that the moment your head touched his pillow, you would be asleep.

"Cass! Sunshine! Let's go!" Steph yelled from the bottom of the stairs. The whole family was already waiting by the foyer, including Bucky; only you and your younger sister were missing.

"We all agree that they are late because of Cass, right?” Damian said, standing next to your father. “The question is why specifically.”

“20 dollars, that it was because she didn't like the dress, and our big sis is trying to convince her,” Tim said quickly, lifting his head from his tablet.

“No, I blame the makeup,” Steph said.

“You're putting money on that?” Jason asked.

“Twenty.” She responded with a curt nod.

“Fifty on the hair,” Bruce raised his hand, “Last gala was that.” He added with a smirk.

“Fifteen, something happened with the dress, and they had to change it,” Duke said.

Bucky only heard the exchange from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, smiling to himself. This was probably the tenth time since he got there that he had caught them running a betting pool.

“Wanna bet, Barnes?” Dick asked him, after he put money on you being the reason behind the delay.

“Not today.” Bucky shook his head.

“He’s still hurt that he didn't win the last bet.” Duke snorted, “If only he had said ten minutes instead of fifteen.”

“I promise you that it looks good!” Bucky’s head turned to the second floor at the sound of your voice.

“Are you sure?” Cass's voice sounded tiny and unsure; it was moments like this that reminded him how young your sister was.

“I promise.” You said, “Let’s go, they are waiting for us.”

“Finally? Are they coming down now?” Jason said, noticing Bucky’s shift of attention, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Instead of replying, Bucky waited a beat, enough time for Cass to appear at the top of the stairs, with you right behind her, gesturing with your hand for them to smile, and then circled your face with your finger, finishing up with a thumbs-up.

“You look beautiful, Cass.” Your father was the first to catch up with your instructions as Cass began her descent.

Behind her, you gave him a thumbs-up and then pointed towards Dick and Jason, widening your eyes, urging them to second your father’s compliment.

“Yeah, Cass, such a beautiful makeup,” Damian said, instead. Bucky noticed how Jason and Dick sucked a breath in and tensed beside him.

You shook your head in panic.

Cass froze mid-step and then turned towards you. “Maybe we should change it again.” She mumbled.

“Cass, baby, you look gorgeous.” You reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders to turn her and keep walking down the stairs. “Don’t listen to him.”

“He just wants you to stay here because he knows that you will be one of the prettiest girls out there, and he will have to help us keep all your suitors away.” Dick chimed in.

As soon as you felt Cass relax, you nodded, and Jason and Dick rushed up the stairs. Each of them offered his hand to help you walk down the rest of the steps. Dick took Cass’s hand as he kept murmuring compliments to boost her confidence.

“Took you long enough, sis,” Jason mumbled, guiding your hand so you could hang on his arm, as you followed your siblings a few steps apart.

“She made me redo her makeup twice! She didn't like what the team did,” you whispered, making him laugh.

Then he grimaced. “Fuck, that means no one won.”

You playfully slapped his forearm.

“You look beautiful, big sis.” He said, before you get to the bottom of the stairs.

“Thank you, baby bro.” You reached your hand and pinched his cheek. “Look at you, so handsome!”

“Bah! Stop it.” He leaned back, away from your touch. “I don't want a picture of me with my cheek all red because of you.”

"But it goes so well with your brand! If your face is already red, you can ditch the helmet."

You let go of his arm, chuckling, your eyes wandered around until you found Bucky at the side of the stairs.

“Hey, handsome.” You mumbled approaching him.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He offered his arm, and you took it, delighted.

“Wait, we are matching!” You said, pointing at his handkerchief, once your eyes scanned him.

“We are indeed.” He smiled, leaning towards you and kissing your cheek.

You were about to turn to meet his lips when you heard your father calling your name.

“Darling, are you also taking your car?”

“Yes, Dad.” You replied, squinting your eyes at him because you knew that he already knew your answer.

“Do you mind if Cass and Tim go with you?”

“Of course I don't.”

The cars were already waiting for you outside: Bruce’s car, Dick’s convertible, and your car, and once everyone was up, you drove towards the Wayne Tower.

You were already in line to get off at the bottom of the stairs when Tim suggested to Cass to get off now and join your father and Damian, who were already waving at the press. You smiled to yourself, happy that Tim had already warmed up to your relationship with Bucky.

“You sure you want to do this?” You asked Bucky, who was sitting in the front seat, as soon as Tim and Cass got out. “I can get out of the line now and take the entrance to the underground garage; we can skip all this circus if you want.”

He glanced outside, at the way your Dad posed to the press, your siblings lined up to pose individually, waiting for their turn, the scene looked out of a Met Gala.

“I won't blame you if it's too overwhelming or…” He turned to you at the change in your tone. “Or if you don't want the rest of the world finding out that we are dating.”

“Hey, look at me.” When you didn't turn, he leaned in and lightly tapped your chin in his direction. “I knew what I was getting into the moment I started feeling something for you. You might have to teach me some poses, but I want to be with you, every version, and that includes Gotham’s Sunshine. I want to let everyone know that I’m yours.” He cradled your face and kissed you. “Do you believe me?”

You nodded, swallowing the knot that had formed in your throat. “I do now.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw the staff signaling for you to move forward.

“Let’s do this then.” You said.

The moment you were out of the car, the familiar noise of the city and the buzzing coming from the people around hit you. Quickly, Bucky took his place next to you, guiding you to the line right behind Dick and Jason.

“How are the ears?” Dick mumbled under his breath, side-eying with concern at the roaring crowd of reporters.

“Good, I still put on the earpieces to help me drown the noise; it’s helping.” You smiled at him.

“Good to hear. If you need me to shut them up, tell me, my public image can take it.” Dick said, and then after giving a gentle tug to his suit jacket's lapels, he took a step forward. “Show time.”

“Shit, I almost forgot.” You let go of Bucky’s arm and opened your purse. “Here, these are for you.” You took out a small velvet box with a W engraved on top of it.

“What is it?” Bucky took it, and once he opened it, he found a pair of cufflinks.

He grabbed one, inspecting the golden item. “J.B.B.,” He read his initials, which were engraved with an elegant handwriting.

“My father gave them a few upgrades. If you press either of them twice, it doubles as a mic to the comms channel and a recorder.” You removed his current cufflinks and exchanged them for the new ones, all while explaining in a low voice. “And if you tap it using Morse code for S.O.S, it activates a distress signal for us to find you.”

“Does this mean I’m finally welcomed to the family?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Eventually, you would know that once he gives you a ring like this.” You raised your hand and showed your own family ring. “For now, this is a ‘I recognize you're important to her, so we’ll take care of him, make sure he is safe’ type of gift.”

“Did he tell you that?”

You nodded, feeling your eyes get teary. “Yeah, he did.”

“I’ll make sure to thank him, and let him know that I think the same about them.” He cupped your face. “As long as you let me, I’ll make sure you and they are safe.”

“Thank you.” You mouthed, and then he kissed you.

Someone cleared their throat behind you. “Miss Wayne, it's your turn.”

You pulled back from the kiss. “Right, photos. Is my makeup okay?”

Bucky nodded, and after squeezing your hand, you walked away.

The blinding flashes started as soon as you were in their eyesight. People screamed your name as well as directions for the pictures.

“Here, Miss Wayne.” One of the photographers yelled to your right.

“Over the shoulder!” Another one exclaimed.

But you just smiled, shifting your position until you thought it was enough, and walked to the other standing point after Dick moved to join the rest and wait for you for the traditional photo at the entry of the Wayne Tower.

However, after a minute, you extended your arm in Bucky’s direction and told him to join you. The moment Bucky appeared, there was a second where the flashes stopped, a few gasps of recognition were heard, and then the flashes and the screaming got even louder.

“Here, Mr. Barnes!”

“Are you friends, Miss Wayne?” The photographer asked, zooming in on the way Bucky held you by the waist with a tight grip, and the way you leaned into him.

“He’s my partner!” You exclaimed back with a bright smile.

Bucky chuckled, turning his face and kissing your temple, causing another wave of flashes and pleas to kiss again.

You walked towards your family, holding hands with Bucky, even if the photographers kept yelling for one more photo.

“Well, I guess you’ll be this year’s headline.” Lucius Fox said once you get to his side.

“The night is still young, Lucius! And don't let any of my brothers or my dad hear that, they're gonna take it as a challenge.”

Lucius chuckled and then leaned to kiss your cheek. “How are you, sweetheart? I heard from the board that you're doing an amazing job, as well as Dick and Tim. There are already talks of who's going to be assigned as the successor.”

“Oh God, let’s have that talk in a few more decades, please?”

He bowed his head. “I’ll pass the message.”

Your family got to their position at the steps of the Tower, Bruce in the middle, to his right Lucius, Damian, and Tim, and to his left Dick and you. On the step behind you were the rest of your siblings.

The gala was going perfectly, or as perfectly as a Wayne’s gala could go. The guests were happy, servers held trays of snacks and drinks for them around and between the crowd that had taken over the dancefloor. Bruce had dialed up his charisma, chatting with some members of the board with an untouched glass of liquor in his hand to keep the appearance of him being slightly drunk.

Dick and you had mostly spent the hours saying hi to the guests, making small talk as it was the usual, going from group to group, hearing them talking about their lives, and some even taking the opportunity to make petitions or suggestions — in the end, this whole gala was for them, a celebration of their work during the year right before the holiday break.

Investors were also invited, as well as representatives of companies or individuals who wanted to buy stocks in the company, and were cordially invited to hear the end-of-year report, as well as current investors and collaborators.

Bucky waited for you at the bar, watching as you moved across the room with a bright smile, holding Dick’s arm. He wasn't surprised by why there were people who seemed so eager for you to take a more prominent role at the company.

Even if your act was to act as a young, rich girl and carefree socialite, there was a sharp focus in your eyes and in the way you presented yourself. A born strategist who complemented Dick’s leadership. And if everything went as your family planned, both of you, as well as Tim and Damian, would share Bruce's role at the head of the company.

“Would you like to dance with me?” Bucky asked once you returned by his side and had drunk your non-alcoholic beverage.

“Of course.” You smiled. “Sorry for leaving you alone, but for the rest of the night I’m yours, I promise.” You said once he took you to the dancefloor.

Bucky pulled you close to him, swaying with you in his arms like the day of your date.

“I get it, I’m dating a busy woman.”

“Glad you understand it.” He made you spin and pulled you back to his arms. “Are you enjoying the night?”

He nodded. “The view, and now the company, is astonishing, breathtaking.” He said, scanning your face with his eyes.

“Shut up.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Oh man, it's gonna be one of those nights.” You heard one of the guests mumble, and when you focused, you caught a few more whispers.

You pulled back from the kiss, a frown already appearing on your face. Careful not to appear obvious, you turned slightly towards the grand windows that faced the city.

And then you understood.

The bat signal, high and threatening, loomed over the night sky of Gotham City.

Your heart sank.

Because Gotham needed Batman. And when they asked for him, it only meant a big problem if they were admitting it.

On cue, on the other side of the room, your father tripped, giggling to himself at the bar. You took Bucky’s hand and rushed towards him.

“Hey, Dad, are you okay?” You asked, reaching for him.

“‘m fine, darling.” He slurred his words, swaying slightly.

“Maybe you should call it a night.” You suggested out loud, feeling the curious eyes of the guests on your back.

“I’ll take him. As well as the younger ones, it's getting late for them too.” Dick appeared and approached to hold your father up, and put Bruce’s arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go, old man.”

Dick gave you a curt nod, and promptly, you turned and diverted the attention towards you.

“My apologies, I know that when the signal is up, it means chaos only. If anyone wants to go home is free to go, just remember to do it calmly." You announced, taking the mic from one of the members of the live band that was playing. "Whoever desires to stay can do so; we will offer shelter in case anyone needs to stay longer.”

A chorus of thank yous followed by your announcement, and there was a murmur of people arguing about what was best. As time passed, almost half of the guests left, while the rest decided to stay, either because they were desensitized to the chaos or were too anxious, and the distraction helped.

Half an hour passed, and Tim, who had stayed behind with Jason and Duke, told you he was leaving too. You kept your smile on, even if inside you were feeling the anxiety creep up.

An hour later, Jason and Duke walked towards you, something that didn't aid your serenity.

"We are leaving, sis. I'm taking Duke with me; he wants to stay at my place tonight." Jason said out loud.

Translation: Dad needs us, yes, even Duke.

"Oh, okay. Do you want me to drive you home, guys? Or Bucky?" Do you also need Bucky or me to go, too?

"We don't think so. We will call you if anything." Jason said with a tight smile and leaned to hug you. "Breathe, everything will be fine, Alfred and Oracle are already overseeing everything." He whispered in your ear.

"Please, be careful." You whispered back, hugging him tight.

"Always."

"Don't stay up too late, and text me when you get home." You said once Jason let you go.

"Don't worry, sis," Duke said, and hugged you. You repeated your plea to him, too.

Bucky rubbed your back as you watched your brothers go.

"They'll be fine." Bucky tried to comfort you.

"I know…" You whispered, and before you could shed a tear, you let out a breath and turned towards him. "Thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else." He mumbled, kissing your temple. "Come on, let's go and steal a tray of snacks. I'm hungry, and you haven't eaten." He took your hand and guided you in search of food.

Almost two hours later, you could finally leave, leaving Lucius in charge. The moment you were in the car, with your seat belt on, you pressed a button on the console.

"— Robin, be careful, there's movement," Bruce said into the comms.

"I'm here, talk to me." You said, the panic evident in your voice.

"Hey, darling, we're okay, breathe. Are you driving?" Bruce asked, concerned.

"Bucky is." You said. "What happened?"

"Gordon was the one who activated the signal. He gave me a file on a case; he needs extra eyes to dismantle a group that is smuggling guns, all hands on deck, easy but boring, we can be waiting for hours since they are using the docks to access the city."

"Do you need Bucky or me?" You asked.

"No, darling, but I promise I'll tell you if it's needed."

"Fine."

"Try to get some sleep, I think we will be returning late."

"Okay, woke me up when you get home, please."

Bruce sighed, "Will do."

"Thank you, I'll leave the channel then. Please, be careful, I love you."

Bucky took your hand the moment the line disconnected.

"See? I told you they were fine."

"I know, I just needed to hear it from them." You said, leaning your head back on the seat.

The manor was silent when you arrived. Alfred had received you at the foyer once you parked your car, and he then dismissed himself to the batcave, after telling you that Titus had stayed there with him.

Bucky followed you to your room, talking with you to keep your mind occupied. You stood in front of the full-length mirror across your bed and started removing the pins from your hair and your jewelry. Bucky did the same, but he stared at you from the side of your bed, leaving his new cufflinks on your side of the bed, and once he had removed his suit jacket and tie, he sat on the foot of the bed, looking at you from behind.

"You okay there?" You asked, massaging your scalp once every pin was off.

"Mhm, just thinking." Bucky said, then he got up, "Let me help you." He said, standing up and walking until he was behind you.

His hands worked on the zipper on your back, lowering it slowly, his fingers gliding over your skin as he did so. You couldn't avoid the way your breath caught at the feeling of his knuckles against your bare skin.

"What are you thinking about?" You mumbled, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I'm thinking," He grabbed the strap of your dress, and painfully slow, he lowered it, leaving your shoulder naked. "That after many," He leaned in and deposited a kiss on your shoulder, "many days," another kiss, this time on your neck. "We are finally alone."

A smile pulled up the corners of your mouth.

"What are you planning?" You asked as he continued leaving kisses on your neck.

"My plan is, if you allow me," he held the other strap of your dress with his fingers, "to make you feel good." He rested his chin on your shoulder. "What do you say?"

"Yes, please."

Bucky left another kiss on your neck, and with a flick of his wrist, your dress pooled around your feet on the ground, leaving you in your underwear. You tried to turn around, but his arm snuck around your waist and pressed you against his chest, his bulge brushing the plump of your ass, aided by the extra inches that your heels added.

"Don't turn, not yet, keep your eyes on the mirror," He whispered against your ear. "Let me feel you, you just enjoy. Can you do that?"

You nodded.

"Good girl."

A choked sound left your mouth.

"Can I touch you?"

Another nod.

"Here?" His hand hovered over your tummy. "Use your words."

"Yes." You said breathless.

"And here?" His hand moved up, hovering over your chest.

You nodded. "Yes."

His hand moved down, brushing against your skin until his fingertips brushed your panties. There was already a wet patch forming on the fabric covering you.

"What about here?"

"Yes, please, Bucky."

Your hips jerked the moment his finger touched your sensitive clit. You had to grab onto his arm that was still around you.

"Fuck." You cursed as he made circles around your clit, still under your underwear.

"Eyes on me, baby." He mumbled once he noticed the way you had closed your eyes and leaned your head back on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," you said, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "so good, don't stop."

He continued working on your clit, leaving kisses all over your neck. "That's it, let me hear you, it's just you and me."

You let out a whimper when he pushed forward his hips.

Without stopping his movements, he guided your face to the side with the help of his other hand and kissed you. You moaned against his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him closer. Blindly, he pulled your bra away and grabbed your breast in his hand, massaging and focusing on your nipple.

"Bucky," your voice cracked when his lips left you, "more."

He nodded and quickly removed your underwear and heels, leaving you bare in front of him. You attempted to turn, but instead he grabbed you by your waist and guided you to the bed. He sat across the mirror and then sat you in his lap, with your back against his chest.

"Open your legs for me, baby." He urged you, teasing you with his touch on your thighs.

You complied, opening your legs, until you could see your glistening pussy in the mirror.

"So beautiful," he mumbled, "and all mine." He returned his attention to your clit, making you squirm on his lap.

You gasped the moment his fingers moved lower and pushed inside you,

"Oh, my God." You said, leaning your head back as he began fucking you with his fingers.

"Look, baby, look at the mess you're making." You forced yourself to look at your reflection.

You were panting, hips rocking against his palm as he pushed another finger in, stretching you, the heel of his palm giving you a toe-curling friction against your clit.

"Bucky, Bucky," you chanted his name, voice breaking at the intensity of the moment, the feeling of his length right against your ass, getting harder by the second, made you whimper at each time your hips grinded against him.

He made a motion with his fingers inside you, reaching that sweet spot that got you so close that you could touch your orgasm with your fingertips.

"I'm gonna — ah, please."

"Come, baby, let me feel you."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you arched your back. "Oh, God." You turned your head and pulled him to kiss you, however the kiss broke the moment you came. "Jesuschrist." You attempted to close your legs, but he took his fingers out and slapped your pussy, making you mewl.

Without the overwhelming feeling of his fingers fucking you, you turned in his lap and kissed him, you worked quickly on undressing him until you had to get up, and then returned to your place on his lap, this time facing him.

Your hand sneaked between both of you, taking him in your hand and jerking him off, until his tip was leaking with precum.

"You ready?" He asked when he pulled back from the kiss.

"Yes." You nodded, and, grabbing his shoulder to keep you steady, you took his cock and guided him inside you. "Fuck, you're big." You said, letting out a breathless laugh.

"Just breathe, take your time," He caressed your side, helping you lower yourself on his length.

Your jaw dropped the moment you finally sat fully on his lap, every inch inside you making you feel so full. "Fuck, Bucky."

"That's what we are doing." He said, with his brows furrowed, making you laugh. "Fuck, sweetheart, you're so tight, laughing doesn't help."

You moaned, feeling him twitch inside you.

"I think I can move now." You gave an experimental roll with your hips, making both of you moan. "Okay, yeah, I can —" Your voice cracked when you did another roll.

"That's it, sweetheart, make yourself feel good." You rolled your hips again, this time more easily. "God, you feel amazing."

You captured his lips again, brushing your tongue against his. His fingers gripped your ass, aiding you as you rode him. You were still lost in the feeling, utterly cock drunk, that you didn't register when he got up with you in his arms and flipped you on the bed, getting you on your knees on the mattress, with him kneeling behind you.

In one stroke, he pushed in from behind inside you, as he held you on his lap.

"Fuck, fuck," you babbled, reaching your hands forward to hold you up. "Harder, Bucky, I can take it, please, I can —"

He grunted behind you, snapping his hips against you harder, the wet sound of each stoke mixed with your moans. You collapsed forward, leaving your ass high for him to fuck, completely lost in the bliss of him. He gripped your hips, fucking you into the mattress with force. You stretched your hands on the mattress, gripping the sheets in tight fists.

Somewhere out of the mist of your pleasure, you registered the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, each hit matching his movements. He was not holding back now, using more than his usual strength, and thank goodness for the serum pumping inside your veins, because otherwise there was no way you could've handled it.

"Bucky, please," he held your hips high, reaching to that spot inside you with the angle.

Your moans got louder, pleas and his name in chant, as well as his own whimpers and grunts.

Your back arched the moment your orgasm hit you, white pleasure blinded you, and tears left your eyes due to the overwhelming feeling.

He came with your name on his lips, grunting as he spilled his seed inside you. Bucky leaned forward, finding your mouth as he kept grinding against you, mind and body buzzing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around him, milking him dry.

"Well," you said with your voice hoarse. "That was definitely worth the wait."

He laughed. "Yeah, totally worth it." He kissed your shoulder and then leaned his forehead on your shoulder, catching his breath.

"Bucky?"

"Yeah?" He said, caressing your skin where his fingers had been holding you with a bruising grip.

"We need to think about how we're going to repeat this when there are people here. My walls are soundproof, but God, we're so damn loud." You said mortified.

"You think so?"

"I know so." You replied. "Besides, now that I know how it feels with you, I don't think I'd be able to keep my hands away from you."

"Do you want your father and siblings to kill me?" He huffed. "But yeah, I agree."

He shifted, straightening behind you.

"The good thing is —" He pulled out of you and then sank himself inside you, making you moan and look over your shoulder.

Bucky grinned, staring at you as he repeated the motion.

"— that the night isn't over yet, and the house is still empty."

You pushed your hips back. "I love how you think." You mumbled, dropping your head on the mattress, already going back to your cock drunk state.

"Ready for round two?"

"Yes, please, yes." You begged, closing your eyes as he snapped his hips against yours over and over again.

Absolutely worth it.

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a/n: pictures taken from pinterest only for aesthethic purposes, dividers made in canva by me.

The distinct smell of books flooded your senses as you stepped into the bookstore that Monday morning, holding a take-out cup of coffee from the nearby coffee shop. It was comforting, as it had been since the first time you walked in, and as it had been this past year working there. Barnes' Book Corner was an old establishment, owned by the same family for generations.

As always, the weight on your shoulders lifted, relaxing your posture as you took a deep breath. It was strange how your workplace was also a place that could be the source of your comfort, a place where you could find solace.

It had been a miracle that you had seen the job offer poster just as the owner's son was putting it up against the front window. The moment you entered the bookstore, you were convinced that the universe worked in mysterious ways, because there was no other place you would rather work in.

Bucky Barnes, the owner’s son, was the one in charge of interviewing you, since he was the one who was currently managing while his parents prepared for their retirement. To your surprise, after you answered a few questions, he hired you on the spot, confirming the serendipity of the whole situation.

From there, one shift after another, your friendship with him bloomed. Bucky was a very fascinating individual, especially once you went past his reputation and his usual brooding exterior. He was a few years older than you, but your school days overlapped enough for you to learn that Bucky was a playboy, always on dates, with a girl under his arm during the frat parties.

Your shifts went by between pleasant conversations and attending to customers, Bucky being a constant across your days. However, said friendship had rarely left the confines of the bookstore. Being in charge wasn't something he took lightly, so he poured his soul into his job, which translated into extra hours and zero social life outside the job.

It also helped that Bucky was a sight for sore eyes. Sharp jaw, devastating smile, piercing blue eyes that could fight the sea from their beauty. More than once, you had found yourself ogling at him as he worked around, carrying boxes that made him flex his biceps and reach the top shelves, making his shirts ride up and flashing his skin. And his brain? God, he was smart and funny, always with a copy of a book near him, and ready to drop the most nerdiest comment possible.

Yeah, you may have had a crush on him years ago, and sometimes it came back from time to time, but who could blame you? He was magnetic. Handsome and charming. Dangerous combination.

“Morning, boss.” You said after stepping behind the counter, leaving your stuff in its usual spot.

“You’re early,” Bucky said over his shoulder without looking at you since he was putting up some books on the highest shelf.

“Wow, you said that as if that's a shocker.”

“It is.”

You made an exaggerated gasp, making him huff a laugh. “Excuse me? You're talking to the employee of the month, a title I'm holding since I started working here, mind you!” You pointed at the board were said title was over your smiling photo. “If I’m always late, I wouldn't have it!”

“Sweetheart,” he said, the nickname he always used with you. “Besides me, you're the only employee, and I can't have it since I’m — how did you call me the other day?” His smug smile made your heart flutter, but you decided to ignore it.

“A nepobaby.” You completed. “You’re so rude, I don't think I will give you the coffee I bought for you, I’ll have to drink it.” You said with a mournful tone, pulling the coffee closer to you.

That made him turn.

He narrowed his eyes at you, leaving the book in his hand back into the box. “Did you say coffee?”

You nodded.

“I bought it for the best boss in the world, but I don't see any of your parents here.” You shrugged as your eyes scanned the back of the store, as if waiting for his parents to materialize on the hall that led to the break room and back office.

“Is that from the coffee shop around the corner?” He said, nearly drooling, noticing the cup sleeve.

Another nod as you logged in to the computer at the front desk. He almost dropped the book in his hand as he placed it back into the book cart and rushed to the counter.

"You're an amazing person, have I told you that?" Bucky said, forearms resting over the counter as he leaned forward.

"Mmm, maybe." You said.

"You're the best employee of the year as well." He added, his eyes tracking the coffee cup as you moved it slightly in his direction.

You hovered your hand around the cup, "Enough for a raise?" You asked, raising a brow.

He hung his head forward, defeated. "You know I can't clear that yet," he lifted his head slightly and leaned even more, lowering his voice as if he was sharing a secret. "But I can put in a good word with my father."

You shrugged, "I know, I had to try. Drink it before it gets cold, it's your order." He raised a fist in victory when you placed his cup near his hand.

"What about you?" He said, closing his eyes as he got a whiff of the coffee scent. "You didn't buy a cup for yourself? We can always share."

"No need, I already drank mine there. I had an early breakfast with a couple of friends."

He scrunched his nose, "The good group you actually enjoy going out with or the one you haven't got the strength to drop and keep going with them even if they make you feel bad?"

You slowly turned to him with your jaw dropped, "That's it, give me that cup back!" You said, reaching your hand.

"No! It's mine!" He leaned back, raising his cup high so you couldn't grab it. You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to the monitor, "I didn't lie, though." He mumbled against the cup once he brought it down.

You sighed, "The good group."

"Thank God. Last time you went out with them was what, after the wedding of one of them last year, right?" You stopped typing.

"Yeah? How do you even remember that?"

He shrugged, "You were stressing out the week prior about your dress, something about not being the right color in the preview, and you also asked for a day off, remember?"

"It was not my fault that they took the photo with bad lighting! The burgundy looked way darker than it should have."

"Believe me, even if it wasn't the right color, you still looked beautiful." He winked and turned around to return to his spot next to the cart, missing the way your skin flushed.

Maybe you do need to get laid.

Which reminded you of the conversation you had with your friends that morning. The reunion went as it always does: each one of you did a recap of the highlights of the last few months, quick jokes between anecdotes over a cup of coffee, and your breakfast election.

Looking back, the topic of your love life was going to be on the table by default. Both of your friends were happily married; one had two kids, while the other was newlywed and expecting. Kids and marriage shanninigangs were the main theme during their turns, so when both turned to you, the "single" sign was already hovering over your head in neon lights with bright arrows pointing at you.

"So what about you? Any cute guy coming to the bookstore?" Mel asked with a playful glint in her eyes, her eyebrows waggling as she rubbed a hand over her growing belly.

You narrowed your eyes over your cup, "Not really."

"Anyone that catched your eye? Any… coworkers perhaps?" Cassie asked, taking a bite of her pastry.

"I don't have any coworkers — well, Bucky… he's my boss, uhm, quasi-boss, more like my manager, if I'm being honest." You rambled as you took a piece out of your pastry with your fingers. "But no one special."

Cassie and Mel exchanged a look, while you obliviously continued eating as you stared out of the window.

"When was the last time you went out on a date?" Mel wondered. "Was it that date with Scott?"

You rolled your eyes, "Don't remind me of him. But yeah, I think so."

Cassie looked at you with her jaw dropped, "Girl, that was before my second pregnancy, and Harrison has 3!"

You winced.

"Wait, but that was the last date. Seriously, your last relationship was with Dylan?" Mel said with a frown, as if reciting the timeline of your lovelife would change the facts.

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, why are you acting as if you didn't know this?"

"I mean, I suspected it, but we rarely talk about your love life! Let alone your sex life!"

"Wow, we are not discussing my sex life." You side-eyed the crowded coffee shop, proper of the hour. "At least not in public and definitely not sober."

"Come on, girl, you are not the type that likes hookups, you're telling me you had slept with someone after Dylan?" You scrunched your nose. "You see my point?"

"I'm fine, I promise. I prefer it this way. I'm happy enjoying my single life and my toys."

Mel shook her head; her face reminded you of how she looked every time there was a debate in class. "Seriously? Haven't you wondered what it would be like? Having someone to share your life, someone who loves you and makes you laugh just as hard as they make you come."

Even Cassie choked on her drink at her words.

"Jesus Christ, I won't believe anything that comes out of your mouth. Hormones and your honeymoon phase glow are talking for you." You said with a fond smile.

Mel blushed, "Yeah, maybe you're right." She chuckled. "However, my point stands."

You rolled your eyes and focused again on your food. After a few moments in silence, Cassie reached her hand, placing it at the side of your plate, forcing you to look up at her.

"What would you say about us arranging a blind date for you?" Cassie said, using the same tone she used when she tried to convince her children to eat some veggies.

"A blind date, really?" You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Yeah, who better to arrange it than your two best friends? We are both in happy marriages, so that's enough to make us more than qualified. We know what you like and what not. We can totally find you a great prospect."

"In what moment did my life become a season of Bridgerton?"

Mel cleared her throat and, holding her cup of tea high, she said with her best British impression: "Dearest gentle reader, you shall be the diamond of this season."

"Easy there, Lady Whistledown." You said, with tears in your eyes from laughter.

"So, what do you say?" Cassie said, laughter still bubbling in her voice.

You considered it for a second. You didn't lie about being happy, but you wouldn't lie that you haven't been wondering what it would be like to have someone. Getting back to your lonely apartment was getting bitterly sad.

"One date. And if it doesn't work out, you two will drop the cupid's work."

Mel squealed, clapping rapidly. "We promise. Oh my God, I can't wait!"

"We won't disappoint you," Cassie said with a bright smile, placing her hand over yours on the table and giving it a few taps. "Better start planning the wedding."

You rolled your eyes, taking a last bite of your pastry and getting up to order Bucky's coffee, knowing that he would kill you if he found out you had gone there and didn't get him something, leaving your friends scheming on the table.

・・・・・

Two days had passed when you got the message. Your shift had just started a few minutes ago, and surprisingly, Bucky hadn't arrived yet, so you were still waiting for him to bring the new arrivals boxes to the front of the store. Without much to do, you took your phone out, and the moment it unlocked, as if it was part of a prank from the universe, the notification popped up.

Mel You have a date! Next Saturday. 7 pm. I'll text you the location.

You ???????

Cassie He's great, you're gonna love him.

You Okay??

Mel He's so nice! Just make sure to wear something pretty. Show that curves, babe ;)

You let out a grunt of frustration. This was insane. You had thought they were going to forget, truly. Or struggle to the point that they themselves would tell you that they would give up, since the dating pool looked more and more pathetic nowadays. But two days? In two days, they found someone willing to have a blind date with you. You brought your hand to your mouth and started biting your nail — an old habit that you had thought you had left behind back in college.

A date.

A fucking date.

You hadn't dated in years. The last one had been a nightmare. And before that, you had been in a long-term relationship, where a 'date' consisted of watching a movie or having take-out in his dorm.

What if you fumble this date?

What if, because of your inexperience, you scare a perfect guy away?

"Why the fuck did I agree on this?" You mumbled, burying your head in your hands.

In that instant, the bell over the door chimed, announcing a customer, or so you thought.

"Who's ready for a blind date!" Bucky exclaimed, holding a bag with rolls of gift paper sticking out of it.

Your eyes widened, and your elbows that had been resting on the counter slipped, making you almost lose balance and almost hit yourself on the face. "What?"

Bucky raised the bag, brows knitting together at your reaction. “The dynamic that my mom insists on us doing? The blind date with a book? Did you forget?”

“Oh, yes, that, sorry — yeah, I remember.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes! I — What do you need me to do?”

“We need to wrap the books that are in that box on that table and write the clues on the front. Are you sure you're okay? You can take the day off if you need.” He sounded worried as he scanned your face.

“No!” You exclaimed, horrified, the last thing you needed was going back to your lonely apartment and spiraling alone. “I’m fine.”

He hummed, “I will act as if I believe you.” He approached the counter and leaned in. “But, just remember, you can trust me with whatever you need, okay? I’m your friend.”

You smiled at him and nodded, “Thank you, Bucky.”

He reciprocated your smile and, after tapping the counter, he strutted towards the table he had organized after hours the day before. “Come on, these books won't wrap themselves.”

You took the list of books with the preselected clues from the printer and joined him.

For the next hour, you fell into a system, while Bucky wrapped the books and placed a sticky note in the front so you could know what title it was, while you were in charge of writing the clues and drawing doodles as decoration on the front of each book.

It was probably the tenth time in less than an hour that you had written “Enemies to lovers” and "Fantasy romance," when Bucky called your name.

“Are you sure you're okay? You keep bouncing your leg, and I think you’re gonna rip the top of that pen if you keep biting it.”

Your leg froze mid-bounce.

Your mouth opened and then closed again.

After a sigh, you closed your eyes. “I’m gonna tell you, but please promise me you won't laugh.”

He left the book he was working on on the table, “Hit me.”

“My friends… they just texted me that they arranged a date for me.”

He blinked.

“A date?” He said slowly.

“Well, a blind date.” You pointed at the pile of books next to you. “Kinda ironic if you ask me.”

His eyes fell to the book in front of him and frowned.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head. “I just… I’m trying to remember the last time you mentioned something about dating.”

“Well, you can keep digging, but to be honest, I think this is the first time we've touched this topic — at least on my end, I’ve heard many things about your dating life.” You chuckled, hoping that he would take the bait and forget your situation.

“You shouldn't believe rumours.” He squinted his nose.

“You forget we went to the same school,” you said, “Still, since I’ve been working here, I’ve seen you leave early for dates or like that time that girl came looking for you to give you back your wallet that you left in her house.”

He frowned. “That was before. I haven't gone on dates in 8 months.” He made an emphasis on the time passed.

“Oh, really? I haven't noticed.” You said and went back to scribbling on the book in your hands. You felt his eyes still on you, and sure enough, when you lifted your head, he was staring at you with his brows raised. “Shit, that sounded wrong. I mean that I truly hadn't noticed, that was not sarcasm. I do pay attention, it's not like I'm distracted while working, I’m just focused.” You rambled until he started laughing.

“God, you do overthink.”

“That's what my therapist said.” You shrugged while you felt your cheeks burning.

“Is that what is happening here? You overthinking the date?”

You exhaled, exhausted, “I'm overthinking everything. What should I wear? What should I even say? How much is too much? What's expected? I haven't been on a date in years, and before that, dates weren't something that I paid any mind to, and they definitely were far from decent, if I even could call them dates. None of my past boyfriends cared enough to take me on a real date.”

You squirmed, trying to push back the memories of the many times you cried yourself to sleep, thinking that you weren't enough for any of them.

“My friends care, and they say this guy is a great catch, so what if I fuck up? I don't have a problem being single, but… i just don't want to lose something that is good only because of a stupid, bad date.”You ranted.

“That’s… so much pressure.” He softened his voice, empathy written in his features.

“Yeah, imagine having to deal with it.”

A beat.

“You don't have to do it alone, you know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you're worrying about going on a date, and here I am, someone who has gone to several dates. You can rant to me about what you're overthinking, and I can help you. Think of me like Yoda but for dating.”

“And I'll be your Jedi?”

His eyes glinted with enthusiasm.

“Yes! You're getting it!”

You snorted, “I don't know if you're insane for suggesting it or I’m even more insane for actually considering it.”

“Is that a yes?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

You sighed, “Fuck it, let’s do it. I don't have anything to lose.”

Bucky punched the air, “Yes!”

“Why are you so happy?” You chuckled, watching as he did a weird celebration dance.

“Can’t I be happy for helping a friend? Think of this as a payoff for the many times you have helped me out.”

“A raise would be nicer, though.” You muttered under your breath.

He stopped dancing and pointed at you. “I’m working on it!”

You rolled your eyes and pointed at the pile next to him. “Go back to work, those books won't wrap themselves.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, raising a hand to his head in the form of a salute.

Yeah… this might be a bad idea.

Later that day, you were eating your lunch when Bucky burst into the break room. He sat across from you and, with a smile that promised trouble. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his ankles as he stretched, and his hands remained threaded together over his stomach.

“Tell me more about you.” He said.

“I’m on my break.” You buried your fork in your plate and brought it to your mouth. "I don't function unless my break is done."

“And you need help. Part of being on a date is being comfortable talking about yourself and listening, so let's practice." He explained.

“Okay…” You looked down at your plate with a frown.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, “I’m listening.”

You let out a deep breath. “I don't know. I suck at this.”

“Come on, tell me anything. For example, why did you decide to work here? We have never talked about that.”

“It’s stupid.” You mumbled.

“It's not, I promise.”

You locked eyes with him, debating yourself if you should tell him the truth or go with a simpler, less uncomfortable reason. But the more you looked into his blue eyes, the more you remembered who was in front of you — yes, your almost boss slash former crush, but also your friend.

So you went for the truth.

“When I was younger, my parents had a rough patch; there were always fights at home and… I don't know, I was old enough to get out of the house without their supervision, so I went out and walked around until one day I found this place, it was… quiet, peaceful. A safe place.” You said, looking down at your food. “I used to come here every day until they decided to divorce and my dad moved out.”

Your eyes burned, tears threatened to spill as you remembered exactly how you felt those years ago.

“So last year, I was on my way to an interview at a corporation. A boring desk job. Can you believe? And then as I was passing by, I saw you placing that sign.”

“That's why you had a job application with you,” Bucky mumbled. You raised your head to look at him, and when he realized he had said it out loud, he blushed. “Sorry.”

You let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, that's why. The moment I crossed that door… I felt exactly like I did back then. I felt safe, like I was coming back home. It was a no-brainer after that.”

His eyes softened, he reached towards you and placed his hand over your wrist. “I’m glad you found this place.”

You felt your throat tightening; the way he was looking at you was doing things for you that you didn't want to entertain with, so you looked away, removing your hand to pick up your bowl and lean back into your chair.

"Anyways, don't you think that's a topic for a second date, at least? A lot to unpack for a first date." You attempted to joke.

"It's your decision. If you feel comfortable about it, at the end of the day, it's a part of your life."

"I'll have it mind." You glanced at him, and for a second, you thought he was leaning in, but you heard the bell that announced a new customer, interrupting whatever he was thinking of doing.

He closed his eyes for a second, cursing under his breath, and then got up. "I'll go, you finish your lunch."

You nodded, and then he was gone.

The day passed by with more stolen moments whenever the flow of customers died down. He would approach you at the front desk whenever the customers left the shop or in case some were just looking around, and he didn't need to be placing more books or taking some out from the storage. In case you had switched places, he would find you wherever you were in the store and trail behind you as he asked questions.

Some were rapid-fired, especially when he saw someone approaching from the corner of his eye:

Cats or dogs?

Sunrise or sunset?

Sweet or savory?

Early bird or night owl?

If there was time, he made more open questions:

If you had a superpower, what would it be?

What would you do if you won the lottery?

Favorite song and album, and why?

“Okay, so let me see if I’m understanding, so he is going to marry another girl —” He said while you counted the till after he placed the closed sign.

“He wants to propose.” You corrected.

“Tomato, tomahto. He wants to propose, gifting her a star.” You nodded. “And the star is a girl.”

“Yup.”

“And he falls in love with her.”

“Eventually — it's a really good movie.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don't know, there's something appealing to watch their journey together and how even if they annoy each other from the start, you see them fall in love without them realizing, or at least trying not to think about it.”

“So you're a romantic.” You expected to see a mocking expression, but instead, there was a look in his eyes that you could only think of as genuine curiosity.

“I guess you can say so.”

He hummed, and after he nodded to himself, he took his phone from the table and pocketed it.

“Bucky?” You narrowed your eyes at him. He was moving in silence, something he rarely did, let alone in the middle of a conversation.

"Do you mind closing tonight?" He said, reaching for his jacket behind the counter.

"Where are you going?"

"Unimportant." He put on his jacket. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Unbelievable." You muttered. "And I fucking lost count." You groaned and started over.

・・・・・

It was early, you had just flipped the sign to OPEN just a few minutes ago, and now you were busy accommodating some books when you heard the door open.

“One second!” You called out, taking the last book of the cart and putting it in its place.

“Good morning.” Bucky was waiting for you next to the front desk, leaning against the wood.

“I thought you were a customer.” You said, rolling the book cart with you.

“It’s still early. Here, let's switch.” He turned back, took something from behind him, and walked towards you.

He took the cart and handed you a takeout cup, same one you had bought him the day before.

You inhaled the scent of fresh coffee and mentally scolded yourself for not taking a detour to buy your own cup.

“It's for you, by the way,” Bucky said as he rolled the cart away.

“What?”

“It's your order. Drink it.” He chuckled when he saw the confusion on your face. “What? Sweetheart, don't look at me as if I never do good things for you.”

Maybe it was because you had your guard down, but you flushed.

You didn't answer him; you hid your face and drank from the cup. Only one sip was enough for you to widen your eyes and look at him with surprise.

“It is my order!”

“Of course it is.” He said with a smile, placing the cart in its place and moving to continue the morning routine.

“How?” You took another sip and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of the beverage travel inside you.

“Remember that time, when my parents were here, and I volunteered to bring all of you coffee? Well, I didn't forget your order.”

“That was months ago. I had less than a month here.” You said with surprise.

He shrugged. "I pay attention."

Bucky walked towards the computer and began checking the emails, taking your place at the front desk.

"I see that."

"Oh, by the way, I saw the movie," Bucky said casually over his shoulder. “The one you mentioned was your favorite?”

“Really?”

He nodded, focused on the screen, “Good movie, I see why you like it. And you were right about them.” He turned to face you, “Their journey truly was appealing, but damn, the number of times I just wanted to shake some sense into them so they could see they had what they needed in front of them.” He made a gesture of strangling the air.

You chuckled. “Exactly!”

You kept talking about the movie and other hobbies while working; it felt natural talking with him. Even if during your first month you had tried to keep it professional, Bucky’s charm had been disarming.

You hadn't even received your first check when he was making you laugh and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Now, with this whole date situation, Bucky realized that there were many things he didn't know about you, and maybe it was selfish, but he was determined to know you — not his co-worker who could talk about him about the frequent customers, who could keep up with his humor and make him lose his composure while doing inventory and restocking — the real you, the one that lived outside the bookstore when you were out of the clock.

・・・・・

Three days before your date, while both of you were taking boxes out of the storage room, Bucky became bolder.

“Are you planning to have sex with him?” He said casually, holding the door open of the room with one hand and carrying a box with his metal arm so you could go through.

You almost dropped the box in your arms if it hadn't been because he was close enough to keep the box steady with his hand.

“Careful, you don't want to get injured so close to your date.” He said with a teasing smile.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You scolded him.

He winced. “Full government name? Damn.”

“Why are you even making that question?”

“I swear I’m not a perv.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He snorted. “You mentioned when you were rambling about the date, remember?”

Your eyebrows jumped.

“Well, not explicitly.” He added after seeing your expression. “But you said you were worried about expectations, where the limits are. I thought you referred to that.”

You opened your mouth, but words got stuck in your throat.

“You really have a good memory.” You said instead, placing the box you were carrying on the counter to open it. You tried to use the box cutter, but you struggled to make it glide over the cardboard.

“And you're deflecting, I thought we agreed to be honest.” He approached, towering behind you. “Let me do it.” He said, hovering his hand over yours that was holding the box cutter.

Your breath hitched. He was too close; you could feel his breath fanning on the exposed skin at the side of your neck, and if you took half a step back, you would have his chest against your back.

Instead of taking the blade from your hand, he wrapped his hand over yours, applying enough pressure so the blade could cut through the material.

“We need to change the blade,” He mumbled, removing his hand and with it the box cutter. He put the blade next to the box but didn't move; instead, he placed that hand on the counter, half cagging you.

You gulped, suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

“I’m not deflecting.” You tried to make your voice steady, keeping your eyes trained on the box before you, trying your best not to move back.

He chuckled.

“Then answer.” His voice dropped, low and gravely.

You wetted your lips with a glide of your tongue. And in an attempt to appear nonchalant, you turned around, a decision that quickly made itself noted that it was a bad idea.

You had to tilt your head up to look at him. Suddenly, it felt as if the space between you had shrunk. It didn't help that his metal hand landed on the counter too, fully caging you.

“I — I think it will depend.” You choked.

“Of what?” His eyes scanned your face.

“If there's chemistry. And if he wants to.”

The muscle of his jaw jerked.

“What about you? Do you want to?”

“I don't know yet.” You whispered.

“Would you kiss him?” His eyes dropped for a second to your lips, and then went back to your eyes.

“If things led us there." It was the turn of your eyes to focus on his lips, "Sure.”

“If he had you in this position as I do, would you go for it? A kiss?” He asked when you looked back at his eyes.

“Probably.” There was that again, that glance at his lips.

He hummed, his eyes going back to your lips.

If it hadn't been because the counter was supporting you, you were sure that your knees would have given out.

And then he moved, turning around and going back to taking out boxes.

What the fuck was that?

Before your mind could spiral, he talked again, this time from a much safer distance.

“Whatever you let him do, remember that you're also in control. You can say no. Don't take any step if you don't feel comfortable. Don't give a fuck about his expectations.” Bucky said sternly.

“And if you feel that he's pressing you to do anything that you don't want to, or if you just don't want to be there anymore — you can always reach out to have an escape call.”

“My what?”

He said your name, stopping by the doorframe of the storage room. “Please tell me you have talked with your friends. They are arranging a blind date and not even offering to be your escape call?” He sounded offended.

“I’m confused.”

“You know, when you're on a date, and you want to leave because it's boring, uncomfortable, or you just don't want to be there anymore — a friend can call you.”

You shook your head.

“You should tell them.”

You fidgeted with your fingers.

“I can hear the gears inside your head turning. What's the issue?”

“They know this guy. I don't think I’d need an escape call. Besides, it's on a weekend, they're busy with their family plans.”

“Sweetheart, it doesn't matter if you're going on a date with the best bachelor around; you need to have a safety plan.” He said before getting inside the room.

You sighed. He was right.

"Would you do it?" You said.

"Can you repeat that? I didn't hear you." Bucky said, emerging from the room with two boxes in his arms.

"Would you be my escape call if I need it?"

His eyes softened, and he approached you, stopping right in front of you. "Of course, whatever you need."

You mirrored his smile, and, without thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him.

"Thank you, Bucky." You mumbled against his chest.

He reciprocated the hug, resting his head over yours.

"Not a problem. That's what friends are for."

・・・・・

Days with you, Bucky realized, passed by quickly. This arrangement had pulled you both much closer, so much that Bucky dreaded that it was going to be over soon — sure, you would still be friends like you had been since you started working with him, but he really hoped that the easiness and openness with which you had been interacting these past days would remain.

The day had finally arrived; tonight, you would have your date, and he would see if all the advice and practice had paid off. While Bucky did his morning run around the neighborhood, he realized something, a feeling that he had been having these past days, and had grown more frequent, appeared again, a pang in his chest whenever he thought about you being on a date with another man.

The feeling had come previously, building up softly, creeping until it became painful. Each time he noticed the glint in your eyes when you rambled about something that was on your mind, when you would laugh so hard that your whole body swayed and rested on his side, your smile… soon another man would be on the receiving end of it.

His mind went back again to that day that he had you caged against the counter; he had been so close to kissing you, and after your confession… thinking about this unknown man that would be close enough to do what he had stopped himself from doing, to think that he would be able of feel your lips against his, to touch you, and if he got lucky, he would be able to hear his name out of your lips as you came undone.

Jealousy.

Bucky Barnes was jealous.

He wished that you had a good time, purely because he knew you deserved nothing less than that. But a good time meant that you would like whoever was going to be sitting across from you during your date.

Bucky got to his apartment, his mind still building scenarios, and he got to his shower after checking that Alpine had her bowls of food and water full. Hours passed by with him trying to keep his mind occupied, until his phone rang.

"I need your help." You said the moment the facecall connected.

He could only see your face partly as you moved across your apartment. Bucky noticed that your hair was done; you had opted to let your hair down, making it flow with each movement you did — he wanted nothing more than to bury his head in the crook of your neck.

"Hello to you too, what do you need?" He said quickly. Internally cringing to himself at his earnestness.

He saw how you bit your lip, second-guessing your decision to call him in the first place.

Bucky called your name.

"I told you whatever you need, I'm here. Tell me what it is."

You sighed, placing the phone right in front of you so you could see him properly, still only showing your face.

"I just hung up a two-hour call with my friends, I did my hair, and went through my whole closet." You grunted. "I don't have any idea what to wear. Their only advice is cleavage and a miniskirt, but I'm not sure."

"You want me to drive you to the mall?" Bucky glanced at the clock on his wall, "If we hurry up, maybe you can find an outfit."

You chuckled, "I appreciated, but I do think I can make out something out of my clothes, but —" you wetted your lips with the tip of your tongue. "I called you because I want your opinion on my options… you're also a man, I could use your feedback."

"Of course, sweetheart, show me." He said, interrupting your rambling, especially since you were already flushing.

You smiled at him, and then the image became a blur as you placed the phone against something so he could see you from head to toe. He wondered if this was the same angle that you were using with your friends from the quickness with which you set it up.

"Okay, I think you'll be able to see the look." You mumbled as you stepped away from the phone and then spun around. "What do you think?"

You were wearing a white blouse, paired with a pencil skirt that hugged your curves.

He hummed, "Where is said date?"

"It's a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, not too fancy and not too casual." You said.

"Next outfit then, you look like you're on your way to a job interview."

You gasped, offended. "Is the skirt, right?"

He nodded. "Yep. Next, sweetheart."

You exhaled and then disappeared from the frame.

"Ready? This is the next option." You said, stepping in front of the phone.

Bucky had to stop himself from dropping his jaw and making his eyes go full-on cartoon heart eyes. This outfit was simple, but it was so… you. A black top, with a jacket over it, paired with a long skirt — a long skirt with a slit that went up to your thigh.

"Are you there?" You called out when you stopped spinning.

Bucky blinked and cleared his throat. "Yeah, still here, my connection buffered for a second." He lied. "I think that looks perfect. It's very you."

"You think so?" You leaned towards the phone and smiled; that, and the glint in your eyes, was disarming.

He nodded, "Excuse me for a second." He got up from his couch and went to the kitchen. As he served himself a glass of water, Alpine jumped to the counter and meowed at the phone.

"Is that you, Queen Alpine?" You said. "Long time no see, beautiful."

Bucky frowned, "Do you know my cat?"

"Your mom asked me to go feed her when you went out during your vacations." You explained.

"I thought she had done it." He said as he picked up the phone again and returned to his living room.

"She tried, but Alpine kept acting weird. She asked me to go with her, and it turns out your girl loves me. She let me pet her and ate while I was there."

“She’s smart.”

“That she is.” You agreed. “So, this option?”

“I like that one. But it's your choice.”

“Great, it's my pick too. I have to go, now that I know what I'm wearing, I can do my makeup.”

“Remember, if you need to get out of there, call me, no matter what time it is. I’ll be waiting. Text me when you arrive and get home too, please.”

“Will do. Thank you, Bucky.” You said and then sent him a kiss, “Talk to you later, bye!”

And then you were gone.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch.

Did it make him a bad person that he wished you had a bad date only so you could call him and hear your voice again?

At 6:55, his phone buzzed.

You I’m here, apparently he's parking his car. omg he's here

Bucky Good luck You left a heart on his message a beat later. And so his torture began.

Bucky paced around the apartment without much direction. He went to his room and undid and did his bed again, he did his laundry, did the dishes, and started cleaning the apartment — all that with Alpine meowing at him from her spot on the window. Every few minutes, he put his phone out and stared at your text thread.

At 8 pm, he took the keys to his car out of the bowl near the door and put them in his pocket.

“If she needs me, I need to be able to get out quickly.” He said out loud, earning another meow from Alpine, even she could see through his bullshit.

That train of thought made him take a quick shower, change clothes, and put on his shoes.

He wondered if that guy made you laugh.

If he was letting you talk or interrupting you.

If he noticed whenever you wanted to keep talking about something or when you wanted to change topics.

If his eyes dropped to your lips, and if you did the same with his.

Bucky closed his eyes and groaned.

Why the fuck didn't he ask the name of the restaurant? Why didn't he offer to pick you up? Ah, yes, he didn't want to make you think he was a weirdo. Well, now Bucky was suffering the consequences of second-guessing.

By 9:30 pm, he wanted to cry because you hadn't called him yet, and that meant one thing: you were enjoying your date.

And if that was true, that meant that Bucky had lost his chance.

The truth was that Bucky had been harboring feelings for you for what felt like an eternity — even though it had only been less than a year since he had truly interacted with you; he had seen you before, of course, living near and having overlapping time at the same schools. But he was a coward. He liked what you two had, the easy-as-breathing type of friendship, a type of trust and reciprocated respect.

He tried to date other people, only to fully stop a few months ago, once he realized he felt like shit during and after each date. As if each attempt were a direct act of betrayal to you and to his feelings. He had convinced himself that having you as a friend was enough to make his heart stop aching, enough closeness to alleviate his yearning.

And it had been.

Until now.

He buried his face in his hands. He just hoped that this guy, whoever he was, would take care of you, love you the way you deserved.

It was close to ten pm when he gave up and decided to take his pity party to his bedroom. He would stay up until you texted him that you were safe and sound back in your home, but that didn't stop him from throwing himself on his bed and drowning himself in his misery.

He had already said good night to Alpine when he heard someone knocking on his door. Alpine perked her ears and let out a meow.

"Easy, Al, it's probably the neighbor," Bucky said, and then padded to the door.

He opened the door and froze the moment his eyes landed on the person outside.

You.

"Hi, do you mind if I come in?" You said, burying your hands inside the pockets of your jacket.

"Y-yeah, sure, of course, come in." He stuttered and moved aside.

He closed the door behind you.

You whistled, "This place looks and smells good." You said, looking around, then your eyes landed on Alpine. "Hi, Queen!"

Alpine meowed, jumping from her spot at the window and padding to you. You knelt on the floor and brushed your hand over her fur. "Such a pretty girl!"

Bucky was at lost of words, he blinked repeatedly.

Had he gone to sleep, and was this a dream?

"Totally real." You said, standing up and turning around with a smile on your face.

"Did I say it out loud?" Bucky asked.

You nodded, biting your lip and trying to muffle your laugh.

"How was your date?" Bucky wondered, after clearing his throat.

"The date was great, actually." You assured. "His name is Frank, he's a doctor, well, a pediatrician." You added.

"That's good." He croaked, rooted in his spot near the door.

"It is. He's a great guy." You sighed, and then you started pacing around the living room, your eyes scanning the room as you moved around. Bucky could only keep his eyes on you, still confused about what you were doing in his apartment. "The food was amazing. He was a good company too. Your advice helped a lot." You said the last part over your shoulder. "I really felt that the conversation flowed, I felt more confident too."

You turned to see him, and then slowly approached him. "But every single moment I kept thinking about something, and it didn't leave my mind since the moment I hung up our video call."

You stopped a few steps in front of him. "The whole time I kept thinking about another person. I kept comparing his questions to the way he would respond. The way he looked at me." You took a step forward until you had to lift your face to meet his eyes. "The way he made me feel."

"Who did you compare him to?" He whispered.

You tilted your head, a smile pulling the corners of your mouth. "I think you know."

"I — It will really help me if you say it out loud." He said, and you chuckled.

You took another step forward.

"I kept wishing that I was on a date with you." You said softly.

His breath hitched.

"I was wishing the same." He mumbled.

"Thank God, because if you didn't, this whole thing would have been so humiliating."

It was his time to chuckle. His eyes dropped to your lips and back to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

Bucky lifted his hands and grabbed your face. The moment your lips touched, it was as if fireworks went off inside the room. He leaned into you, making you step back until the back of your thighs brushed the couch.

"Bucky," you whimpered against his mouth.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes in an effort to calm himself down. Your breathing was ragged, as well as his.

"We shouldn't…" He choked out, with a pained look on his face, his control hanging by a thread.

"I want to." You said, reaching your hand to cup his cheek. He turned his face slightly, leaving a kiss in your palm and leaning into your touch. "I want you, and I need you, Bucky, only you."

He opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated, black pools of desire stared at you, and you were sure your eyes mirrored his need.

"Please." You begged with a whisper.

"Fuck." He cursed, the thread of control snapping like a twig.

And then he was on you. He kissed you, a possessive hand held you by your waist, pulling you to him as his tongue brushed your lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Your hand traveled over his broad chest and slid under his shirt.

"I want to feel you." You whimpered. "Please."

"Not here. Come on." You thought he was going to move away to guide you, but instead, he braced an arm around your waist and the other under your knees and lifted you, carrying you towards his room.

With your hand, you guided his face back to you, joining your lips into another kiss as he walked blindly with you in his arms. You were lucky that he didn't bump into the wall or stumble during his path to his room. You assisted him, opening the door without breaking the kiss, and once you were inside and he had kicked the door closed, he let you go to lower you.

He removed his shirt, and you took off your jacket, and between kisses and giggles, the clothes pooled on the floor quickly until you were left in only your underwear, lying in the middle of the bed. He stared at you from the foot of the bed, and when he didn't join you in bed, you propped yourself on your elbows.

You felt heat flushing your skin as you realized he was staring at your uncoordinated underwear. The look on his face was pure hunger as he slowly approached. His hands found your ankles and slowly, oh, so slowly, crept up, leaving goosebumps in their way.

"You weren't planning this. Him having you like this." It wasn't a question. His voice was low and husky.

You shook your head.

"Good girl." He grinned and then, in a quick motion, grabbed you and pulled you down the bed. He held your legs open wide as he positioned himself between your legs and knelt on the floor.

You whined as he began kissing your thigh, getting closer and closer to your core, only to retreat and repeat the motion with your other thigh. "You look so beautiful like this. I've been wanting to do this the moment I saw that skirt on you." He said against your skin. "I thought of kissing every single inch of your skin, higher and higher," he left a kiss over your clothed cunt, "until I got here."

He looked up at you and rested his cheek against your thigh. "Would you let me taste you?"

You were panting as his hands traveled up and stopped at your underwear. You nodded, desperate.

"Use your words, baby." He said, and then let a playful bite in exposed skin.

You gasped. "Y-yes, yes, please."

He smiled and left a kiss on your thigh. "Good girl."

The moment his mouth latched onto your core, you moaned his name. His tongue drew circles around your clit, but his eyes remained on you, watching in awe every gasp and reaction his actions caused.

"Such a sweet pussy, and all mine." Your thighs closed around his head, your back arching as he pushed you closer and closer to your climax.

And then he stopped.

He moved away from you. When you lifted your head and looked at him, offended, you found him standing up and stroking his cock, a devil grin on his face.

"I wanna feel you coming around my cock, baby." He purred, dragging the tip of his cock between your folds, your slick mixed with his saliva, making him glide with ease.

"Please." You begged, mewling each time his tip brushed your clit.

"Please, what, sweetheart?"

"Put it inside, mmh."

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He cooed, "Make you mine inside out?"

"Yes, Bucky, yes."

He dragged his cock downwards and then pushed inside you, slowly, letting you accommodate him. "Fuck" He cursed, hanging his head low as he fought the urge to thrust inside you. "Relax, baby." With his thumb, he made tight circles around your clit.

"It's been so long," You said, struggling to take deep breaths as he pushed inside inch by inch.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm gonna take really good care of you."

Once he was buried to the hilt, he leaned to kiss you. You latched onto him, one hand on his back and the other on his nape. Slowly, he started grinding his hips; each stroke brought more and more pleasure, until you were clawing his back. His shallow thrusts grew more desperate until he was pistoning into you with force.

His lips traveled down, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Bucky," you moaned.

"That's it, baby, you're taking me so well." He groaned against your neck.

Your back arched, and you digged your nails into his back.

"I'm…mmph."

"Let go, baby, I got you."

You came with his name on your mouth, locking your legs around him.

"So beautiful, my beautiful, perfect girl." He praised you as he fucked you through your orgasm. "Shit, sweetheart, I need to pull out."

You shook your head. "Cum inside me, please." You pleaded.

"Sweetheart." He furrowed his eyebrows, pushing away his own orgasm by pure will.

"I'm on the pill. I need you, Bucky."

"Fuck." His control snapped like a twig, his rhythm became erratic as he came, and the overwhelming sensation pulled another orgasm out of you, your walls spasming around him. "That's it, baby, take it all. Good girl."

He stayed inside you until your heart stopped hammering in your chest. He collapsed over your body, leaving kisses all over your face that made you giggle.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Bucky asked, bracing his forearm next to your head so he could look you in the eyes.

"Tell me."

"We need to plan a date."

"A date?"

"Yes, baby, it's time that you have the proper date that you deserve." He said, and with his hand, brushed your hair away from your face. "What do you say?"

"I'll love that." You nodded and smiled at him.

"Perfect, you won't regret it."

He left another kiss on your cheek and then buried his face in the crook of your neck, half draped over your body.

"Bucky," you called.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I have a question." He pulled away again.

"Tell me."

"Since you'll be my date… that means that you can't be my escape call, right?"

He huffed a laugh, leaning his head and leaving a playful bite on your shoulder.

"Hey, careful! No wonder Alpine bites everything that crosses her way. She got it from her daddy." He nibbled at your skin again and then, in a quick motion, turned until he was on his back and you were on top of him.

"To answer your question, yes, I can't be your escape call."

"Buu, bummer. You'd better behave on our date then." You mumbled before kissing him.

"I don't know, sometimes misbehaving leads you to wonderful places." He said against your lips as his hand traveled down and grabbed your ass, making your hips jerk and grind over his thigh.

You squealed, "You're trouble, Bucky Barnes."

"So I had been told, but you'll get to love it."

"I think I already do." You whispered.

"Good," He cupped your cheek. "Because I already love you, too."

taglist: @nikkitabarnes @houseofhyde @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @justwantsomeplums @thearchivistshaven @swimmingnightcolor @w1nter-fairy @sassandscribbles @opheliabbarnes @54nboo @buckyfmd @slutforsr @umbreoni @devililithh @colettebarnes @barnesandashes @metal-armed-muse @heldbybarnes @sheriff-bodecker @bckyslover @demiebarnes @amoremarveloustime @kqtholins @spidermanluvr444 @mathcat345 @singulartoast @erina00 @goldiegirl0312 (+ comment on this post to be added to the taglist)

“So nice to me, sweetheart.” He mocks, leaning a little further down. “Bet you dream about me, don’t you. Up all night with that rabbit Nat got you-“

You shove your foot up, slamming it square on his chest. He’d been getting too close. You’d been able to smell his cologne, and it made your head spin like opium. Bucky laughs again, walking away like you’re not even worth the argument. Your heart stings, but you ignore it. It’s an old bruise. You’re usually good at not pressing it, at pretending it doesn’t exist.

But Bucky exists only to torture you. So it never fully heals.

He’d been teasing about the rabbit thing. It had been a gag gift for secret Santa, and after Nat had even gotten you a very nice pair of shoes when you were in private. But Bucky’s clung onto it, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever thought of. You, with a vibrator. You possibly being able to get off, when you’re the uptight little prude. The one who never brings back hookups, never dates, just sits in corners like an ivy, clinging to the shadows and watching everything else live around her.

You’ve never been fun. Never been someone Bucky would’ve chosen to know. He didn’t choose to know you. You knew a girl who worked with another girl, and that girl had a boyfriend who knew a girl who needed a roommate. You needed a roommate. You had good credit—because you’re boring—and the girl interviewing you had taken a liking to you.

Natasha rode a motorcycle. She worked in a job she was allowed to tell you about—something in black ops, that explained all the wigs in her closet—and spoke five languages. She baked calm down, and went to shooting ranges to calm down, and insisted on getting you a gun license so she’d feel more comfortable with all the hidden guns in the house.

“Hidden guns?” You’d asked, feeling your face blanch. She’d just smiled.

“You’ll never find them all. Let’s go, it’ll be easy.”

It had not been easy. But you understood how—to someone like Nat—it might be. She’d never lost patience with you, but she’d still made it look easy. When you’d gotten home and mumbled that you needed to go shower for an hour, she’d just patted your head like you were a bunny and smiled.

She might’ve been your first real friend in a while. Because it’s not that you’re not… personable. You’re just a little mean tongued. And nervous. And boring, and blunt, and you don’t like leaving the house unless someone grabs the scruff of your neck and drags you. You go to work, and you go home, and that’s mostly it. Your closest friends before Natasha had been co-workers. And you’d been really, truly happy with that.

But interesting people have interesting friends.

Natasha had a lot of friends. And they moved in and out of your apartment like they lived there. 

Tony was a tech titan who you used to watch on the news, and now he left crumbs all over your couch. Wanda was a refugee and artist, and Clint worked in that same black ops thing Nat did. Steve had worked in it, but left to start his own non-profit with Sam. They all went far back, to elementary schools and playgrounds and clubs. They had history, but they were kind to you. Treated you like your little bachelor’s degree and normal person job fit in with their grand showmanship and large personalities that had been sucked right off the movie screen.

Most of them treated you like that.

Bucky didn’t.

Before you’d been introduced to him, Nat had described his as basically Steve’s brother, and it had been a striking endorsement. Steve had been kind to you. He brought you to a movie you’d really wanted to see, and never made fun of your stuffed animal collection. No brother of his could be all that bad, certainly not one even Nat described as charming and kind and not bad on the eyes.

Only one of those things was true.

Bucky Barnes is not bad on the eyes. You’d classify as maybe a medicine for the eyes, a miracle for the eyes, a blessing on a weary and tired viewer. He works in security or something, and it shows in his body. Sometimes he lets his hair grow out, and it’s frames his strong jaw and nose perfectly, all while making you want to run your fingers through each lock. You’re sure it would be like petting a very well-kept dog. He cares for it better than you care for yourself.

He’s got those eyes that knocked all the thoughts out of you, the moment you saw him. They’d sparkled and shone with his polite, white smile, and you’d just been swaying there like a lost scarecrow in a tornado. Your brain had been reduced to a fuzzy TV static and loud blaring noise, like you’d lost your own connection. Bucky had flexed his hand, a silent reminder you were supposed to shake it, and you hadn’t been able to get enough control over your body to even smile back.

His hand had been big. Calloused, with thick fingers and a lot of tiny scars. You’d shivered just at the idea of his touch. It might’ve been warm.

Might’ve been.

If Bucky had ever bothered to touch you at all.

By the time you’d dragged control back into your body, Bucky had given up and moved on. His ears had been a little red, in the moments after. You’d opened your mouth to apologize, make any excuse that would get him to offer a hand again.

He’d turned and walked away. Hadn’t looked at you for the rest of the night.

And when he looks at you now, it’s with something sharp behind his gaze. He never looks at anyone else like that. Never teases or mocks them, either. Acting like their mere presence in the room is a plague on his refined, perfect existence. He certainly never suggests they won’t be able to make it up five flights of stairs or asks if they’re sure they want to go out for the night.

You hate stairs. And you don’t want to go out for the night.

There’s only one thing more powerful than your picky little aversions, though.

The petty, blistering feeling at the top of your chest, that refuses to let Bucky win.

“You’re really coming with us?” Bucky calls your name from the kitchen, and you lift your chin, trying to look down your nose at the massive man.

“I was invited.”

“You’re always invited, you never actually get off the damn couch-“

“Barnes.” Nat walks past him, whacking his arm. “Don’t question miracles.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a miracle-“

“Yes it is.” She grabs your arm, hauling you off the couch like you weigh nothing. “I’ve been asking you to do this for years, I’m not letting Bucky frighten you off with his Buckying.”

That makes you giggle, and Bucky frowns. You catch him shooting Steve a look you can’t really read, and Steve just shrugs in return.

“I’m not trying to ruin it.” Bucky says, lofty and bored. “I’m just sayin’ she never comes out with us, and it might be a lot for the little doe to be shoved into the jungle or whatever-“

“You’re a poet.” Natasha says, giving him a flat glare. “Go wait in the car.”

Bucky scowls. “The car-“

“If you act like a dog, you wait in the car.”

“I am not acting like a dog-“

Sam raises his hand. “I caught him humping the furniture this mornin’ when he heard about it-“

“Sam.” Bucky hisses. “Shut the hell up before I knock your teeth out-“

“Steven.” Nat gives him a firm nod, and he sighs.

“Yeah, I got it.”

Bucky and Sam aren’t small men, but Steve grabs them by the collar and drags them out of the room without breaking a sweat. Leaving you and Nat in a suddenly very quiet apartment, a lingering smell of spice and pine still clouding the air.

Another reason you hate Bucky coming over. He’s mean to you, and he’s nice to everyone else, and he questions you then leaves the whole room stained in his presence.

“Ignore Barnes.” Natasha says it like an order, and it probably is.

You smile at her. “I always do.”

You think it comes off airy and convincing. Nat looks at you like she’s trying not to either scoff, or laugh. Before you can insist on anything, she’s grabbing your hand and dragging you into the bathroom. You did promise you’d let her get you ready. When you’d told her you could do makeup and prep yourself, she’d snorted and said maybe, but I’ll do it better.

One of the first lessons you learned was not to argue with Natasha when she’s sure of something. You let her sit you on the counter and sort through your makeup bag, finding everything she deems worthy of being on your face tonight. Your outfit hangs on the door, and you did choose that, but after Nat vetoed three others.

It’s nothing special. A short dress and heels that will blend right in a club. It hadn’t been that different from your other suggestions. But it had gotten a curt nod of approval and smirk from Nat, so it had something. You’re smarter than to question what.

“You should talk to Bucky tonight.” Nat says suddenly, and you blink at her in surprise.

“I- What?”

“Make him apologize. For being an ass to you.”

“That’s- It’s fine-“

“No, it’s not.” Nat gives you a firm look, and you sigh.

“I know, but- I don’t really care, okay? That’s just- It’s Bucky, right?”

You give her a weak smile, and this one doesn’t even convince you.

It is just Bucky. He’s charming and sweet and handsome, and he hates just you. So you hate him in return, just for being so perfect and deciding you’re the only person in the world not worthy of his attention. It would be easier if he really was a bad man. If you didn’t know he volunteered with kids and Steve’s foundation, if he didn’t advocate for his fellow veterans, if he hadn’t made his ma’s chicken soup when you and Nat had both caught something last winter, and taken the time to drop it off in person.

For Nat.

Because you’re just… Not worth it for him. Not worth his time, not worth his smiling, barely worth anything more than glowering stares and taunting words. And you’re not weak. You fight back every day, and keep all of your desires and affection buried deep in the pit of your stomach and swollen like an infection around your heart.

He never has to know that you think about him all the time. That you feel yourself bloom whenever your eyes meet, then wither when his gaze snaps away. Whenever he presses his body over yours just to tease you, the heat of his body makes your breath hitch. You spend long days daydreaming about how good a boyfriend he’d be, if he didn’t hate you. Attentive and caring and giving.

Every night you think about how giving he’d be. Flowers and coffee like he brings Wanda for galleries, or for Nat or Clint when they’ve been working late night shifts. He likes watching TV, you know, because he spends a lot of time sitting next to you on the couch and loudly making comments until you threaten to force-feed him bleach. But if that wasn’t the blunt and unforgiving knife of reality, you could just lay in his arms forever.

He could pick you up and carry you to bed. The same bed that you put that accursed vibrated between your legs, close your eyes, and dream of him railing you into the mattress. Fucking you until you can’t stand, until you can’t speak or thing, until your eyes are rolling back and your mouth can’t even figure out how to close, so he kisses you possessively or gives you some of those thick fingers to suck on-

“You should still talk to him.” Natasha’s words are blunt. If she’s noticed how you’ve been working yourself up, she doesn’t say a single word. “Before he does something stupid.”

You snort. “Bucky always does something dumb-“

“No. He does a lot of dumb things. Close your eyes.” Nat picks up an eyeliner, and you obey. “But there’s a difference between dumb and stupid. Stupid is harder to take back.”

You grunt, and you don’t think anything stupid Bucky does is going to have anything to do with you. But something scratches at your brain, and it’s green and bitter. Your fingers fidget in your lap, and you shouldn’t ask, but-

“Is he bringing someone?” You blurt, and just the idea makes you sick. Bucky with some model-type, holding her hips while she grinds onto him, all the honey he’d pour into her ears and down her throat while you just hugged yourself in the corner of the room. Her sitting on his lap in your apartment, you trying to hide the ugliness of jealousy but never being able to spare her more than a crude sneer. It’s the only reason Nat would possibly want you to talk to him. You and Bucky’s childish game of pulling each other’s hair and biting without teeth and seeing who breaks first, it ruins his picture of the perfect suitor. If you keep it up, you’ll ruin this for him, and he deserves to be happy but the thought of him being happy while you just sink into yourself like quicksand makes you want to die-

“Jesus, no.” Nat laughs. “That’s- Never mind.” She shakes her head, still chuckling about some secret you apparently don’t get to be a part of.

“What?” You try to push. “I’ve heard about his- You know. Promiscuity.”

Nat snorts. “From who?”

“Sam.”

“Sam’s an idiot.” She dismisses plainly, and you frown.

“Tony’s mentioned it too-“

“They’re both idiots.”

“Bucky’s told me, he said he leaves all his girls satisfied-“

“Bucky is the biggest idiot of all of them. Open.”

You listen again, and find Nat smiling at you with a strangely soft affection. Like you’re some wet kitten she rescued off the street.

“Put on your dress.” She says, wiping the corners of your slightly pouting lips. “Talk to Barnes.”

At the very least, you manage to follow one of those orders.

The dress is a little shorter than you thought it would be. It rides up your thighs, forcing you to pull it down with every step. In the car you cross your legs and stare at the floor, grounding yourself in the bass of Nat’s loud music as your heartbeat starts to pick up. You’re going out. You’re going out. Spiting Bucky was not a good enough reason to do this, it’s going to be loud and you can dance but not in front of strangers, and you’re going to be even more boring than usual and you feel like a fraud.

“Nice dress.”

Bucky’s voice is a low behind you, his breath fanning on your neck. You almost scream.

“Christ, calm down.” He’s grinning when you whip around, leaning forward in his seat to whisper. Sam and Steve are next to him, one very pointedly staring out the window, the other looking at something on his phone and humming like he’s already trying to drown out you and Bucky’s fighting.

“You scared me-“

“You saw me get in the car, sweetheart. Not my fault you’re jumpy-“

“I am not jumpy-“

“You are. Like a bunny.” His grin widens, and you scowl.

The shifting streetlamps make him look like an angel. Golden halo rays behind his head, long shadows that make him look even more rugged than usual. His lips look fuller, softer, eyes glimmering like a floodlight through the dark, and-

“Shut up.” You snap, turning back around. You can’t keep looking at him. It’s dangerous.

“I was just saying your dress was nice.” Bucky’s breath tickles your neck. You wrap your arms tight around your stomach.

“You also called me a rabbit.”

“Called you a bunny-“

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s-“ He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

You flip him off over your shoulder, glaring firmly out the windshield. You can feel him retreat, but the closeness had lit up your nerves, and now they’re buzzing with hope that he’ll return.

Stupid fucking body. Stupid fucking Bucky.

You refuse to look at him when you arrive. You stumble a little bit in your heels—Natsha insisted on six inch, which is far too tall for anyone—and Bucky catches your arm, holding you upright. You brush his hand off like a fly and march on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of some other comment about how you’re like a baby deer.

When you get inside, you can smell it. The stench of sweat and alcohol and something fruity they probably use to cover the first smells. You cling to Natasha, letting her guide you through the crowd to the bar. She orders you two shots because you need them, and you don’t argue. Between Bucky and the club, you do. 

You down them both without flinching, and Sam whistles from behind you.

“Damn, you took those like a champ.”

You shrug, and Sam elbows Bucky.

“You see that, Buck-“

“Yeah. I saw it.”

Bucky’s voice is lower than usual. Almost sullen. You’d examine him, try to figure out what’s wrong with him, but you’re not supposed to be letting yourself care. He’s not your problem tonight. You’re here to indulge in fun.

You’re already not very good at that as is. Bucky’s consuming presence isn’t going to help.

Another drink might.

You’re three shots in when Nat brings you out to the dance floor. The liquor is pulling you lose, the frayed knot that’s always in your chest going slack enough to allow you to dance. You’re smiling and laughing like a normal person, almost completely able to forget to check where Bucky is in the room.

Near the edge of the crowd, drinking and talking to Steve.

A fourth shot might be needed.

You’re smiling like a fool now. The room is tilted a little, all the colors neon, but they blind out your usual worried and the tilt helps your worries slide off your body. You’re able to forget about Bucky until you notice a girl talking to him, and you take a fifth shot. A sixth, when he vanishes for nine and a half minutes, and your brain starts to map everything he might be doing to that girl.

Seven, when the first stranger asks you to dance and you’re not drunk enough to forget about Bucky and say yes.

Eight, when he tries to kiss you and you shove him away, because his lips aren’t pink enough and he’s not broad enough for you to every pretend.

Nat tries to cut you off there. You slip past her, and take a ninth. The room is just a blur now. You can’t fully remember who Nat is, and why you’re trying to avoid her. There’s a man with his hands on your hips, and he’s got dark hair that looks too greasy for you to touch. Another man calls you sweetheart, but he says it a little wrong and it makes you want to cry. None of them have the right eyes, and the ones that are closer don’t have the right smile.

You feel like you’re going to cry, by the time you’ve rejected the eleventh man. Or only fourth. Numbers don’t feel real right now. Most everything doesn’t feel real.

Everything except Bucky.

Because your own name is just a sound in your head that sounds foreign, but Bucky says it and you know to turn around.

It’s less because it’s your name. More because Bucky called you.

You smile, swaying on your feet, and you’re not even sure where you are anymore. It’s somewhere with a lot of people. Loud music. It’s dark, but bright at the same time, and Bucky looks like a walking dream as he moves towards you. Your vision swims, but he’s made of clear lines and a stern expression.

He’s mad at you. Your face falls, lip wobbling, and you take a step back. You don’t want him to be mad at you. Your heart is already beating in your ears, Bucky’s anger or distain might make it burst.

“Where the hell did you go?” He snaps, and you bow your head.

“I- I dunno-“ You hiccup, hugging yourself tight.

“Nat’s been looking for you, Steve barely stopped her from trying to make the building go into lockdown, and I-“ He cuts himself off, running a hand over his face, and you blink the tears away.

You’re looking up at him under your lashes, and he’s still angry. Some distant voice in your head tells you it’s your fault entirely. That he must’ve been about to go home with someone when they lost you, and now he’s pissed he had to pause his night to find you. You sniff, wiping your nose with your arm.

Bucky’s frown deepens. He takes a step forward, and you try to step back but balance feels like an Olympic feat right now.

His arm loops around your waist, pulling you right against his chest. You stare up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks from feelings you can’t even name anymore. They’re hollow and big and full and made of a million little cuts. They burn in your heart and through your blood, but also freeze in your throat and muscles. You can’t move. You don’t want to move.

Bucky’s big hand is splayed on your back, and you don’t want to go anywhere you can’t feel him.

That voice from before reminds you that’s not allowed, so you wiggle a little.

Bucky holds you tighter, and you surrender in a split second. His frown deepens, and you think you’re still crying. Your cheeks are certainly burning, and your throat feels oddly tight.

Gentle fingers brush under your eyes, and you hum softly. Bucky’s nostrils flare, those fingers brushing hair from your face before cupping the back of your head, forcing your gaze onto his.

“Jesus, woman.” He mutters, those beautiful eyes scanning over your slack face. “How much did you have to drink.”

“I dunno.” You breathe. His brow furrows.

“Best guess.”

You shrug, shaking your head, and Bucky sighs. You want to shrink and hide from him, from his obvious annoyance and disappointment. It’s nothing new, but it’s raw like this. You can’t figure out anything, let alone how to pretend like his hatred doesn’t bother you. You try to turn and hide your face, but Bucky just pulls it right back.

“Over five?” He prompts, and his voice is so soft. Like he’s trying to coax the answer out of you.

“I- I don’t know.” You whine slightly, and he sighs.

“Yeah. Alright.” Bucky’s throat bobs, and he looks up. Glances around you, his hands never leaving your body.

You stare up at him in the dark. You’re not supposed to be looking at him, but it’s impossible. He’s magnetic, and beautiful, and you’ve never been this close to him without one of you trying to claw at the other.

But your fingers cling to the fabric of his shirt, and it’s not to draw blood. You just don’t think that if he walks away you’re going to be able to stand up.

Bucky looks back down at you, and his tongue flicks over his lips. His thumb drags slowly over your cheekbone, leaving a little trail of fire in its wake. Your breathing gets shallow, your eyes fluttering. Everything feels like a lot. Like you’re so high in the atmosphere the air is starting to get thin. Bucky’s brow furrows, and he works his jaw like he does when he’s thinking.

You’ve always wanted to reach up and touch the lines that form on his face, when he worries. They’re deep, and still handsome, but they only ever mark that he’s stressed. He shouldn’t be. It’s only you, and you’re nothing to him.

He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his hand dragging down to cup the back of your neck. You tip your head back, waiting for him to do something. Kiss you. Bite you. Slam you back against the wall and relieve the ache, building up between your thighs. Maybe just smell you and let his lips brush over a sensitive spot on your neck, teasing you like always until you’re crying and begging for him. 

Instead, Bucky just sighs. He pulls you forward, twisting you until you’re in front of him. His arms cage you to his chest, and he’s almost herding you down the hall.

“Where’re we going?” You tip your head back, and find him glowering at everyone around you.

They’re all moving so fast, stumbling in your path then scrambling away under Bucky’s glower. His eyes flick down to yours for a second, and maybe it’s the delusions of grandeur and liquor, but you could swear they soften slightly.

“We’re gettin’ you home.” He mutters, shouldering the door open. “You need to sleep this off.”

You wrinkle your nose as the chill of night air hits you. “But it’s cold-“

“Car will be warm.”

“But we don’t have a car-“

“We’re taking Nat’s.”

You scoff. “Nat would never give you her car-“

“Well, she did.” He grunts, voice dropping under his breath. “You’d never give me your car.”

“I don’t have a car.” You snap, and Bucky chuckles dryly.

“Yeah, I know.” He opens the door, giving you an amused look. “Up and in, baby.”

Your whole world stops for a second. You feel like you’re floating, a ditzy smile crossing your face, and you start to giggle because he called you baby. Bucky called you baby, like you matter to him, and he’s touching you.

Bucky sighs when you don’t move, and bends down. He scoops you up and drops you in the car like you weigh nothing. You’re still giggling when he closes the door and walks around the hood, sliding into the driver’s seat. For a second you stop, looking out the club with a frown. The world is still hazy, but you can see the neon sign, and it feels like you’re forgetting things that are very important-

“They’re all goin’ back to our place.” Bucky grunts, and you look over to find him staring at you with one of those stone-faced, unreadable expressions that he only uses around you. “It’s closer, cab will be cheaper.”

You frown. “Why aren’t they riding with us?”

“’Cause we’re going back to yours.”

“Why?”

“’Cause.” Is all Bucky offers. He starts the car before you can ask another question, and puts his arm around your seat to back out of the spot.

Nat has a back cam. He just always does it like this, and you’ve always chalked it up to his big, responsible man thing. Usually when the arm is around you, you glare out the window and pretend you can’t feel how close he is. How his fingers brush your upper arm, or how his smell gets stronger.

Tonight you can’t really remember why you do that. And Bucky does really smell good.

You turn your cheek, pressing it into his bicep. Bucky freezes, the car jerking to a stop, and you can feel his attention. It sparks a tiny fire in your core, and seeps down between your thighs. Your lips graze his skin, and he coughs.

His fingers dip down, brushing near your collarbone. You hum happily, and the car starts moving again.

When you’re out of the parking lot, Bucky doesn’t remove his arm like usual. You’re grateful. If he did, you might have chased it right into his lap.

“You have fun?” Bucky breaks the silence, voice gruff.

You nod, turning to watch him drive. He always does it in a way that’s almost unfairly attractive. He holds the wheel lazily, like he knows it’s under his control. You want him to hold you like that.

Bucky clears his throat. “You, uh- You did good.”

“Good?” You murmur, not fully understanding the praise.

You know it makes you throb, and press your thighs together. Bucky’s eyes flick to the motion, and his throat bobs.

“Yeah.” His grip on the wheel is white knuckled. “Good.”

Silence settles again, and you let yourself stare at him. He’s beautiful. So beautiful it makes you unsure that he’s real. You’d like to trace the line of his jaw, hear his smooth, deep voice again. Hear it say your name, because it’s the only thing that reminds you that you’re real. You can’t remember why you ever deprived yourself of this. Of him, and all his quiet glory. He’s a loud man, but never boastful.

He’s only really boastful to you. When he fixes the shower for Nat or someone brings up his army service, he waves them off and laughs, and you’ve always loved that about him. You love most things about him, even when he’s being insufferable. You sort of love that he’s insufferable, too. You’re not that easy either. And if you wrapped around him, you’re hoping he’d be too chivalrous to cut you off. He could mock you all he wants, you’d just hide your face in his neck and breathe him in. Grounding. Handsome. Impossible to resist.

Your fingers are itching, to touch that sad little furrow. There’s nothing for him to worry about. The world revolves around him.

“Saw you got some numbers.” He grunts suddenly, and you pause.

“Numbers?”

“Phone numbers.”

“Oh.” You reach for you bag, checking that the hard line of your phone is still there. It is. You don’t know what he’s talking about.

“You gonna call any of them?”

“Any of who?”

Bucky gives you an exasperated look, then double takes slightly. His worry lines deepen. It makes you pout, grabbing at your own hands to stop them from reaching for him.

“The guys.” He says slowly, frowning at the road. “That you were talkin’ to.”

Oh. Phone numbers. “No.”

His brows raise. “No?”

You shake your head, and Bucky prompts you with an oddly tight voice.

“Why?”

They’re not you. Even your drunk brain seems to know it’s bad idea to say that. “I didn’t want them.”

“Hm.” Bucky taps his hand on the wheel, shooting you a strange look. “Why?”

You can’t tell him that, but you also can’t think of a good excuse this time. You make a lame, half-hearted sigh, and turn your face back into his arm.

He doesn’t push it. He doesn’t talk for the rest of the drive. His thumb drags little circles on your upper arm, lulling you into a half-sleep only interrupted by the bump of the road. You’re not sure how much longer you’re in the car, and when it stops you can’t really remember what you’re supposed to do now.

Bucky helps. He slides away from you, squeezing your thigh in a silent reassurance before he steps out of the car. Your hand traces over where he’d touched you. Bare skin on skin, hands still light and gentle. He seems to have burned his handprint into you, and it spreads until you’re tingly and weak-kneed.

The door on your side opens, and his voice is low in your ears.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” A strong arm loops around your stomach, pulling you back. “Let’s get you in bed.”

You hum, and let Bucky guide you. You trust him completely, with all your heart and not a single question.

He handles you carefully. Guides you inside, holds you steady in the elevator, takes your keys  from your shaking fingers and opens the door. You’re sent to take a shower, but start to trip over nothing the moment Bucky lets go of you, so he sighs and draws you a bath.

“How am I gonna stand?” You mumble, sitting on the toilet while he runs the water. “Or rinse.”

Bucky grunts. “I’ll help.”

You hum in approval, and start to pull off your dress. Bucky makes a strangled sound, eyes flying up to the ceiling, and you’ve never seen his face so red.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting ready for a bath?” You frown at him, and he groans.

“You- Fuck.” He takes a heavy breath through his nose, closing his eyes. “Just- Keep your underwear on, alright?”

You nod, trying to ignore the heavy sting that he doesn’t want to see you naked. Bucky won’t even fully look at you as he helps you into the tub. He leaves the room while you sit helplessly in the water, barely moving until he returns. You wrap your arms over your chest, suddenly consciously that maybe you’re not pretty enough for him to look at you. You pull your knees to your chest and sniffle, just waiting for him. You don’t even know why he left in the first place. You wanted him here.

Bucky sighs, when he opens the door to find you crying.  

“Christ, I leave you alone for five seconds- Hey, woah-“ He kneels on the bathmat, hand flexing before he reaches out and wipes away your tears. “It’s alright, you’re alright. Don’t cry, sweetheart, you’re okay-“

You bite down a sob and turn your face, pressing it right into his shoulder. Again, Bucky stiffens. His arms hover for a second, breathing shallow, and you think he’s going to shove you away.

But he doesn’t. After that single, million year heartbeat of a moment, he grabs you. Holds you tight into his body, cradling your head and rocking you back and forth. The water flows under you, pushing up on the lip of the tub. A little bit flows over, splashing his pants.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

“C’mon, baby.” He murmurs, slowly starting to rise. “Let’s get you to bed.”

You nod, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. When he gets you on your feet, he stops for a second. His lips brush near your ear, and an electric rush dart through you. Then, fast but certain, he kisses the side of your head.

It’s so quick you’d think you imagined it, if you couldn’t feel the burn of his lips long after he pulls away. You reach up to brush it, when Bucky deposits you on your bed. You watch him move around the room like he belongs there.

He does.

He’d belong with you, if he wasn’t such a massive butt about your existence.

“It’s your fault, you know.”

Bucky glances up from your dresser, fisting a shirt in his hands. “What?”

“You.” You say, because it’s that simple.

He’s the reason you’re drunk. That you didn’t score tonight, that you’d been crying, that you have to be coddled like a baby.

Not that you mind that last one. It’s wonderful, having him touch and speak to you like he cares.

It’s still all his fault.

“What’s me?” He says, and you roll your eyes at the ceiling.

“All of it.”

Bucky says your name, and you wave him off with a dramatic sigh. You can hear him pad slowly across the room, and when he pulls you up gently you flop over his body. A useless ragdoll he’s trying to get a shirt onto.

But the harder you make it, the longer he’ll stay. The longer he’ll be nice, and touch you, and-

“I love you.”

Bucky stills. Your words hang in the air, but you don’t understand why. You’ve said far worse things to him, and he must have known. You know. You’re pretty sure Nat does too, with all the looks she’s always giving you after Bucky teases you and you flush, or you bicker and he marches away with a scowl.

It’s not some grand confession. You love him like the seasons turn and the sun always rises. It’s a deep, mechanical part of you that can’t be rewired, and you know because you’ve tried. But Bucky’s leans back and stares at you like the sky is falling.

“What?”

His voice is a croak, and you frown at him.

“I love you.” You say it slower this time. Maybe you’d slurred the words, and he hadn’t understood. “It’s your fault, because I love you and you’re just… There.”

He blinks at you slowly, obviously still not understanding. You roll your eyes, and flop back down.

Bucky coughs, grabbing your knee as if to steady himself. He’s sitting down, and it’s not like he’s in love. The world is perfectly under his feet. You’re the one suffering.

“I’m here?”

“All the time.” You whine, and his grip on your knee tightens.

“But you love me.”

“Mhm.”

“So why’s it problem that I’m here-“

“Because you never do anything.”

You can hear the frown in his voice. “I do things. I do lots of things-“

“You never touch me.” You prop yourself on your elbows, glaring down at him. “You just- You’re there, and you don’t like me and it- It makes me-“

“Makes you what.” Bucky’s voice is deep, his eyes dark on yours, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“You don’t get to know.”

“I don’t get to know?” He snorts. “No, you can’t just- You can’t say that kinda stuff then-“

“I wish you’d touch me.” You tell the ceiling.

Bucky grunts. “Yeah, I’ve heard. But-“

“Think I could cum just from listening to you talk.” You hum, your voice sounding like a faraway dream.

Your eyes are getting heavy, and Bucky’s gone completely silent. The words start to float out of you, like steam escaping through windows, into the warm, open sky.

“I’d like to touch you, too. Put you in my mouth, or just- ride you.” You sigh. “I want everything. I’d do- Do anything you told me too if you asked. Anything.” You look back up at him, your lip wobbling again. “But you never ask me. Why don’t you ever ask me?”

Bucky’s gaping at you, and he shakes his head, his voice a low croak. “I, uh- You’ve never-“

He swallows, glancing down, and you follow his gaze.

He’s straining through his jeans, shifting uncomfortably. You giggle, flopping back down. Your eyes start to droop, the room fading in and out. Bucky rises over you with a sigh, pulling the blankets up.

“’S nice.” You murmur. “You. Bein’ here.”

You yawn, and Bucky’s laughs. Under his breath, like an inside joke he won’t bring you into.

“Yeah. I know.” His hand grazes over your cheek, and you hum sleepily, eyes closing.

His lips press to your forehead, and it’s like a spell. The world, slowly and easily, starts to slip away.

“Sleep well, baby.” He mutters, and under that command, you do.

He’s not there when you wake up, and you have to be okay with that.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to face him again anyway. There’s a fog hanging over your brain, but it’s not thick enough that you can’t remember last night.

Bucky saw you naked. He was in your room, and put you to bed, and you-

You told him you loved him.

That you wanted him. That you could cum just from him talking to you.

You have to move. You have to change your name and move as far away as possible. Maybe Siberia, or Russia, or Romania, or somewhere he’ll never find you again. Because you told him you loved him, and now he’s gone.

He left a water on your bedside table. Mocking you with the fact that last night was real.

You force yourself to sit up, rubbing your temples, and take the glass. If you’re never going to see Bucky again, and you don’t plan to, there’s no need to spite him with ignoring it.

When you stand up, it takes a few deep breaths to start moving. Nat isn’t home yet, and she probably won’t be for a while. That gives you plenty of time to wallow before you vanish forever. You can spend the morning moping and cursing yourself, then worry about consequences.

You make cereal and put on coffee. Stare at the little bits floating through the milk, and try not to think about Bucky. If he’s thinking about you.

If he is, you don’t want to imagine what. That you’re a whore for throwing yourself at him, a fool for think he’d be open to such a confession—from you of all people—or maybe just the same as he always did. Maybe he’d known the whole time, and he just thinks you were gutsy to say it aloud when he so clearly wants nothing to do with you.

Nothing at all, but taking care of you while you’re drunk. Giving you a bath and putting you to bed, handling you like something precious and kissing the side of your head.

That could have been just more mocking. The same game he’s always played, accusing you of wanting him then laughing. Like he’d already known.  

But playing that game while you’re out of it isn’t Bucky’s style. He likes you biting back, sometimes he dangles comments over your head and grins when you snap at them. So there’d be no reason for him to play when you weren’t even able to a join him. But then there’s no reason for  him to act like that at all.

It’s too early to be thinking this much. You put all your hopeful bets on Bucky having somehow forgotten everything, so you don’t have to move.

The door opens down the hallway, and you glance up. It’s early for Nat to be back.

But it’s not Nat that calls your name through the house.

“Where’d you- Hi.”

Bucky walks into the kitchen, and you stare at each other. He’s wearing his clothing from last night, his hair mussed, two paper coffee cups in his hands. You swallow, and he coughs, glancing around the kitchen.

“I got you coffee.” He mutters a little bitterly, and you follow his gaze to the rumbling coffee machine.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to- It’s here.” He puts it on the counter, and you nod, focusing back on your cereal.

You’re both silent for another long moment. There air is thick, like a swamp at the height of summer. You’re not sure how you remember to speak.

“How’d you know I was up?”

“Your door was open.” He mutters. “Made sure it was closed before I went out.”

“Did you-“

“On the couch. Just, uh-“ He rubs the back of his neck, eyes locked onto yours. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone, and- I think we, uh- You said some things. That we should talk about.”

You rip your gaze away as you flush, but if you’d had any hope of pretending you’d been too drunk to retain the night and just hoping he’d leave you be, that ruins it.

Bucky’s eyes narrow. He walks forward, until he’s right at your side. You can feel his presence buzzing through you, and swallow.

“You remember.” His voice is low, and he leans further down before you can protest. “Don’t lie to me. We’ve both been lyin’ way too much.”

You don’t dignify him with an answer. With even a glance.

Bucky leans closer.

“You said you wanted to touch me.” He’s almost growling in your ear. “You said you wanted me in your mouth, that you wanted me to ride you, that you’d do anything I told you-“

“James.” You hiss, twisting to glower at him.

Mistake.

He looks hungry. His eyes are blown out, only inches from yours, his tongue darts over his lips when you look down at them. He’s watching you like a dog that’s finally been told it can have its bone. Your grip on the counter tightens. It’s hard to stay upright.

“Full name.” He hums, the corners of his lips tugging up. “I’m in trouble.”

“You’re being a dick-“

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“I- You-“

“You love it.”

You freeze at that word. The air feels thin now. Your face is burning, and Bucky’s as collected as ever. Like this is all still just a game to him.

“Fuck you.” You spit. It takes everything you have.

Bucky doesn’t even flinches. “Yeah, you want to.”

Your mouth falls open, and he leans in closer.

“You meant it, right? Everything you said?”

Denying seems pointless. You try to anyway, but your lips barely prepare for the word no before Bucky’s giving you a stern look—don’t lie to me—and your voice dies.

He says your name, and it’s the same voice he used last night. Lighter, gentler, man trying to tend instead of force. You weren’t any match for it last night, but that doesn’t seem to be the drink’s fault. You give in just as easily right now.

“Yes.” You breathe.

Bucky’s eyes flash. “All of it?”

“Bucky…”

“Do you want me.” His voice is demanding now, and you try to look away.

He catches your chin, pulling you back. Forcing your gaze onto his, onto those beautiful, enchanting eyes.

You nod, and he hums in approval. The sound settles, molten and warm in your tummy.

“Do you love me?”

His words sound so sincere and taunting at the same time. You can’t look away, so you glare, and he chuckles.

“Come on, baby.” He brushes his lips over yours, his voice becoming something low. Something dangerous.

You don’t even bother to move away this time. You’re breathing in your chest, your stomach filled with too much desire to do much else. The brush of his lips let you taste coffee and mint, and his grip on your chin is commanding. You’re only putty in his hands. A lost cause that doesn’t really want to be found.

“Don’t make me fuck it out of you.”

Bucky’s eyes gleam, and he’s playing again. He knows he has you, that you want to be had.

His hand drags slowly, gently, on your waist. His fingers dip under your shirt, the soft touch making you gasp. You lean forward, and Bucky leans back. He tilts his head slightly, something stern still in his gaze. You blink hopelessly, trying to figure out what, and he squeezes your hips. It’s grounding and electric, and he presses back forward as you go still below him.

“Do you want me to fuck it out of you.” He growls, and your mouth falls open with a whimper.

Permission. He was holding himself on a leash for your permission.

Doubt drains from your head, far down south where a warm, summer storm is brewing between your thighs.

You spread your legs slowly, and grab his hand on your hips. Push it slightly down, until his attention follows.

Bucky’s jaw clenches, and his hand on your chin drops. You watch as he moves so tantalizingly slow, brushing the band of your panties before dragging down the seam at the apex of your thighs. He rubs you over the fabric, and your hips buck into the touch.

“Fuck.” Bucky hooks two of his fingers, tearing your underwear in one rip. “You’re so wet. Soaked through the panties, soaking my fucking fingers.”

You moan, pressing your face into his shoulder. Bucky dips his fingers into your heat, smearing the arousal all over your pussy, and you shake.

“Bucky-“

“You got this,” he spanks your pussy, then drags the mess down your inner thighs. “’Cause I’m here? Or just from thinking about me?”

“B- Both.” You mumble, trying to keep still as the broad pads of his fingers find your clit, rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles.

He hums. “You think about me a lot?”

Pressing hard on the sensitive button. Your knees give out, and you’re only caught by his arm around you’re lower back.

“Careful, baby-“

“All the time.” You whimper the confession, looking up at him with big, teary eyes. “Think about you all the time, Bucky, you’re- You’re so- Oh my god-“

Bucky yanks his hand from your pussy, grabbing your jaw and angling it back for a kiss.

It’s slower than you thought it would be, with how he crashed over you. You’d been expecting rough and harsh, all spit and ownership. Instead there’s a certainly behind it—a rough passion that’s demanding and hot—but it’s slow. Bucky doesn’t use his tongue until you open your mouth, and he hums in satisfaction when you grab at his hair, tugging slightly.

He grabs your ass, hauling you up on the kitchen counter. His hands wander your body lazily, tracing the softness of your hips and curve of your spine. He chuckles when you arch into the touch, deepening the kiss. Stars swim behind your eyes, and you realize you’re still grinding up into his torso.

“Bucky.” You plead, and he presses another tiny kiss to your lips, taking his sweet damn time.

“Off.” He tugs at the hem of your shirt, and you lift your arms to help him.

He leans back when you’re uncovered, and this time he isn’t trying to cover anything else. He palms one of your breasts, licking his lips before he takes the nipple between his fingers and rolls it. You squeak and his eyes dart up, almost studying how you shiver and blink at him.

“So reactive.” He switches to the other breast, and your fingers dig into the nape of his neck. “Almost came before I even really touched you, sweetheart. If you can’t hold it, you’re gonna be a fuckin’ wreck before I’m even done with you.”

You shake your head, face heating further. “It- It’s been a long time-“

“Yeah, but that’s not it.” He drags his hand down, over your abdomen. Back between your thighs. “You got that little toy keepin’ you satisfied-“

“Not satisfied.” You breathe, head lolling to the side as Bucky resumes his tight circles on your clit. “Not you, Bucky, fuck-“

He groans, dragging you back into a deep kiss. You give him everything you have in return, nipping at his lips and yanking his hair. Bucky groans and picks you fully off the counter, walking you both to your room and kicking the door shut.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy.” He grunts between kisses, his own steps getting a little uneven. “The stuff I wanna do to you, no way we’re covering it in one night. Years to make up for, gotta ration it.”

“Years?” You pull back, and Bucky grins.

“Oh yeah. You’re not the only one who’s not satisfied, babydoll.”

“But-“

“Ah.” He kisses you, lowering you onto the bed. “Nope. Not now.”

You frown up at him. “Bucky, you said we needed to talk-“

“And now I’m sayin’ not now. And if my memory’s right,” he grins down at you. “You’re the one who said she’d do whatever I want.”

You flush, crossing your arms over your chest, and Bucky laughs. He pulls his shirt off, and you almost fall backwards on the sheets like it’s an atomic blow.

There have been glimpses. Moments. You’ve been to the pool with him before, and he’d been shirtless there too.

But he hadn’t been standing over you, massive and radiating power. You hadn’t been close enough to trace your fingers over the scars littering his muscle, remnants from his time in the army. You reach up in a trace, tracing one closer to his pant line, and he flexes under your touch. A low sound rumbles through him, and he catches your wrist with a warning look.

You giggle. “You’re not the only one who’s sensitive.”

Bucky’s eyes flash, his voice dropping impossibly low. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak.”

Your shift in the sheets, more desire building in your already aching pussy. Bucky’s attention darts to the movement, and his throat bobs. Every muscle in his body strains, and you give him a sweet smile.

“Prove it.”

Bucky makes that deep, growling sound again and grabs your face between his hands. He presses over you, shoving his tongue down your throat, and this is the kiss you’d been expecting from before. Rough and starved, almost marking you as much as kissing you. He bullies you down into the mattress with his weight, and you spread your legs wide to accommodate him.

“You’re so soft.” He mutters, kneading your thighs as his mouth starts to trail hot kisses down your neck. “Thought about touchin’ you like this forever, about how beautiful you’d be under me. And let me tell you, baby,” he nips under your jaw. “Better than I managed to dream.”

You grind up below him, trying to chase a little more friction. You keep meeting the rough fabric of his jeans, and the drag is beautiful, but it’s still not enough.

“Needy girl.” Bucky drags your legs apart, pressing his hips firmly over your core. The sudden pressure does the trick, and you moan, tipping your head back in brief relief. “Yeah, you like that. Feels so good and I’m not even doin’ anything.”

“Bucky, don’t- Don’t tease-“

“But it’s so fun.” He coos, kissing the corner of your mouth. “You get all nervous, makes me want to stuff you up with cock and see how you squirm-“

You make a loud, wanting sound, trying to fuck your hips up into the air. But Bucky’s heavy. You can only claw at his shoulders, and it just makes him tease more.

His rolls his hips, dragging the bulge in his jeans over your burning core. Your mouth falls open, and he kisses you, sneaking and arm tight around your back.

The forced arch of your back makes your legs open widen, giving him further access. He starts to rut against your bare pussy, and it’s perfect torture. Your arms are tight enough around him to choke, but it doesn’t slow him down. Bucky dry fucks you, your pussy throbbing desperately for release, arousal trickling down your ass and every thrust filling you with a burning pleasure.

You hadn’t been lying. It’s been a long time. But that’s not the only reason why you’re already so close to the edge again. Bucky’s body is everywhere around you, his thick arms holding you tight, his lips wandering over your neck and cheeks, leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. The friction is everything, he’s everything, and you don’t have enough restraint to fight it.

The orgasm is sudden and harsh, shaking your whole body. You claw at his back, twitching and whining in his ear. You didn’t know you could cum that hard, hard enough to make eyes close from the overwhelming sensation, and it’s just from dry humping.

Bucky groans in your ear and pulls back suddenly. His eyes are lidded, expression lustful, and his palm flexes near his bulge like he’s forcing himself not to rub it. Your breathing is uneven, your pussy still aching, and you reach down to try and rub your clit until he collects himself.

He catches your wrist and pins it to the mattress, shaking his head. “You just fuckin’ came, baby.”

“I- I know- I just-“ You try to turn, and Bucky slaps your cheek lightly. Forces your attention back to him.

“You’re a big girl. Use words.”

You want to glare at him, but something about the slightly mocking order makes your pussy throb. Bucky raises his brows, and you barely manage not to drool.

“Want more.” You mumble, and he grins.

“And?”

“And?”

“You what?”

You stare for a second, then roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

Bucky smirks, squeezing his hold on your wrist. “’S alright. We’ll get there.”

You stick out your tongue, and he hums.

“That’s not very nice, baby. Think we need to work on your manners.”

“My manners are fine-“

“You’re a brat.” He teases, and you flush.

“I am not-“

“Yeah, you are. You’re a wet, needy little fuckin’ brat.” Bucky starts to move your hand between your legs, and you pretend to try and pull away.

He sees the challenge, and yanks it down. Presses it against your core, making you shake. Your eyes flutter, and Bucky laughs.

“Look at you.

“You really still got that vibrator?”

You nod, and he pulls your hand up. kisses your knuckles, eyes sparkling. 

“Grab it.”

You scramble up the moment he lets go of you, yanking open your bedside drawer and pulling out the pink rabbit. Bucky grabs your hips before you can roll back over, pulling you backward with your ass in the air. You twist to look at him and find his attention entirely fixed on your core. On the mess between your legs.

He’s almost in a trance, as he drags two fingers through your pussy lips. You flutter, overly sensitive from before, and Bucky shoves his fingers right into your pussy.

You go limp, at the sudden stretch. Bucky’s fingers are everything you’d imagined they’d be, and more. Rough in all the right place, deft and thick, crooking right at the edges as he finds your g-spot faster than even you can sometimes. He hums like he’s figured out something interesting and kisses the curve of your ass. He starts to rub the tips of his fingers, massaging that happy, spongey place inside you, and you moan into the sheets.

“Bu- Bucky-“

“You’re tight.” He mutters, kissing between your ass and pussy, the tiny patch of skin that sends a shiver up your spine. “And wet. Gonna feel real good around my cock, babydoll. Got a perfect pussy for me to fill up.”

You make another desperate sound, and Bucky presses further in.

“Oh, that sounds good to you, doesn’t it. Getting stuffed full of my cum, being my pretty cockslut. I’d make you walk around with it after, wear a skirt so I can fuck you again whenever you run out. Fuck you until it’s stained on your legs, until everyone can fuckin’ smell it. ‘Till they know you’re mine.”

Your pussy clenches at the possessive promise, and Bucky groans.

“You wanna be mine, don’t you sweet girl.”

“Ye- Yes-“

Bucky yanks his fingers out of you unexpectedly, and you almost scream in frustration. You try to twist around again to chew him out, but he grabs the back of your neck and shoves you into the sheets. You go limp, trembling as tears prick at your eyes. Bucky arms snakes around your stomach, his thumb resting under your clit. Never touch it, or where your pussy is fluttering, desperate to be filled.

“Say it.” He grunts, and you shake your head. You’re not that easy.

Bucky doesn’t seem in any rush to give up though. He spanks your pussy, and you cry out in a mix of pain and delight.

“Say it.” He orders, and your hands fist in the sheets as he spanks your pussy again. You grind against him, chasing more, and he pinches your clit hard.

You almost fly out of your skin, a lewd, garbled plea escaping your lips as another orgasms rushes through you. This one is shorter, but no less consuming. You clench around nothing, mouth hanging stupidly open, and Bucky sucks near your throat, his teeth brushing and making the pleasure all the more intense.

“Fuckin’ brat.” He mutters, awe almost coating his voice. “I’m a damn saint, making you cum again when you’re so greedy. When you got this hungry little pussy, begging to be stuffed with cock, and I’m letting you go first.”

“Please,” you try to flip over, but Bucky’s hold on you is too strong. “Bucky, please- Please just fuck me.”

“Oh, I will.” He kisses under your ear, voice silken and taunting. “But not now, babydoll. Then we would’ve brought this out for nothing.”

“What’s-“

A buzzing sound fills the air, and your eyes widen.

“Bucky, wait-“

“You know, you get more sensitive after you cum.” Bucky drawls, dragging the thick tip of the rabbit up and down your pussy. You try to focus on your breathing, squeezing your eyes shut as your body starts to get swept away in a wildfire.

“God, fuck-“

“Quiet.” He grunts. “I’m trying to talk, sweetheart. Be good.”

You nod, biting on your lower lip, desperate to listen well. To be good.”

“Like I was saying.” Bucky drawls, shoving the vibrating dildo up against your clit, then yanking it away. “You get more sensitive. And I was thinking all night about your little confession. That you can cum just from listening to me talk.” Bucky hums, dragging the head down to rest right over your entrance. “I like a challenge, but I’m got enough on my hands with you today. And since I’m so nice.” He pushes the thick length a little inside you, and your pussy clenches around it. “I’m gonna give you some extra hands. Extra sensitive,” he gives your clit a series of tiny hits, shoving the rabbit in deeper. “Some fake fuckin’ cock to get you ready for the real thing, and me.”

Bucky drags you back into his lap, right as he shoves the dildo home. You almost scream as the smaller bit presses over your clit, the thicker part driven right against where Bucky already knew your g-spot was.

“Bucky- Holy shit-“

He pulls your face to the side, silencing you with a deep kiss as you shake. You’ve already cum twice. That’s more than usual, and you’re not sure if you’ve got another.

You don’t get to tell him that, though. You don’t think he’d care to hear it right now, and fuck, do you want to see him try.

“I said quiet.” He growls when he pulls away, and before you know what’s happening he’s shoving the same fingers that had been in your pussy into your mouth.

You melt immediately, sucking on them as your eyes flutter. Bucky groans in your ear, moving his free hand to hold the rabbit inside your gushing, oversensitive pussy.

“Good girl.” He drawls in your ear. “Didn’t even have to ask, you just knew didn’t you. Fuck, you suck my cock half this good I’m not gonna be able to last ten minutes.”

You moan, and Bucky kisses the corner of your jaw before continuing.

“I know you’d like that. What was it you said? That you wanted to touch me? When this is done we can get you on your knees. If you behave.” He nips at your sweaty skin. “I’ll let you suck my dick. I’ll even fuck your face if you ask real nice. I hope you’re nice, baby, cause I can imagine it. You crying, lips around me, fucking your fingers while you choke on my cock. My pretty baby, my sweet fuckin’ doll loving me so much.”

You slump back against him fully, hips rolling uselessly, and it’s more subtle this time. The heat building at the bottom of your tummy, winding tight and made of a strange pressure.

“You’re gonna say it.” He coos in your ear, and your pussy starts to fight against the rabbit. Like it knows you can barely take it.

But you can’t lend it much energy. You like this position well enough.

“After you cum for me again, I’ll fuck you. Fuck you properly like the brat that you are.” Bucky groans, pressing his nose into your hair. “Walking around, making me feel like I’m the asshole for wanting you, for loving you when you’re snapping off at me,you’re a mouthy fuckin’ thing, aren’t you babydoll. Lotta bark but,” he pushes his fingers further into your mouth. “Not even a little bit of bite.”

Your eyes roll back, head pressing into his shoulder, and you give him a silent look of pleading that’s only met with a mocking grin.

“So pretty like this, sweetheart. Stupid and quiet, I ain’t even fucked you yet. Won’t clean you up after you’re done, just let you walk around with it dripping. Maybe I’ll fuck you until it sticks. Until you’re mine.”

Your back arches, and you’re so close. You can feel Bucky’s dick twitch against your ass, and somewhere in the distance your thoughts manage to collect enough to tell you that he removed his bottoms at some point.

“Fuck, ‘course you’re into that. Shouldn’t have expected more from you, with how much you love this. You’re close, baby.” His lips tease the shell of your ear. “So close.”

You whimper, grinding down onto him as the dildo vibrates, and Bucky groans. He pins you down to his lap with a hiss, fingers flexing on your stomach.

“Shit- You can’t just-“

He presses his mouth where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and sucking as his dick throbs against you, and his dirty talk becomes mumbled and deep. 

“My pretty fuckin’ girl, can’t even wait for it, cum for me, babydoll, come on, fuckin’  show me how much your greedy pussy wants my dick-“

The pressure breaks like a flood. Your pussy gushes so hard it pushes out the rabbit, and your head flies back as you grind into the air. Bucky moans, fully moans, and starts to rub your clit back and forth with the palm of his hand. You grab his wrist, spasming and trying to chase it and escape all at once. You whine as it becomes all too much, batting at Bucky’s hand.

He stops, collecting your release on his fingers.

When he presses them against your lips, you open. Hum as he feeds your own juices to you. All you can do is lap at his fingers and look at him under fluttering lashes, and he smiles.

“Good girl.” He coos, and your body seizes up again. You moan around his fingers, and Bucky laughs.

He pulls them out, turning your head for a gentle, deep kiss. You’re boneless and cockdrunk, only able to let him give and give whatever he’s willing. You can’t even try to drag him close.

Bucky rolls you over, making sure your back is pressed into the mattress as he kisses you lazily. He rises up after a few moments, his gaze raking down your body, and you flush. If you had more strength, you’d cover yourself. You’ve never been good at being looked at.

But there’s nothing expect awe and affection in Bucky’s eyes. He traces a hand over your every curve and softer spot, rising slowly on his knees to part your legs.

“You’re a miracle, baby.” He murmurs, pumping his cock in his hands and for once, you feel like one. “Look at what you do to me.”

You do, and you might be about to burst into flames.

Bucky’s thick. Long, but not enough to worry you, and thick. He’s going to drag, be able to get balls deep and make you feel him everywhere.

You’re drooling, and he sees it. He smirks knowingly, and you wrinkle your nose.

“Come on.” He teases. “Say it, and it’s all yours.”

You shake your head, and Bucky hums. Crawls back over your body, notching his cock right at your entrance. His hovers his lips over yours, not quite fully kissing.

“Say it.”

When you find your voice, it’s raspy and broken.

“No.”

“But you know you want to.” He presses the first inch inside, and if you’d had any worries about not being able to take more, they’re knocked away with how good he feels.

You were right. He’s an even bigger stretch than his two fingers, and it perfect. There’s a slight ache, but it’s overwhelmed by the closeness. By how well he fits, how much you need more of this brimming, explosive pleasure already threating to take you over.

“Just say it, pretty girl. Say it for me.”

You shake your head, and Bucky pushes further in, and your hands fly into his hair like they were pulled there.

He groans, rutting into you, and bottoms out. You didn’t know you could feel this good. Be this full. Bucky moans in your ear, and you breath slowly, trying to adjust.

“You feel so good.” He smashes his lips over yours, the kiss demanding and long. “Knew you’d feel this good, always knew you’d feel this good, Christ-“

You roll your hips up, and it makes Bucky jerk. He slams into you, knocking the air from your lungs, and your toes curl in delight.

He barks your name, grabbing your jaw, and you beam at him.

“More.” You breathe, and Bucky’s eyes widen in slight surprise.

He recovers fast.

“Yeah?” He pulls out slowly, then slams back in, his tip kissing your cervix. “You like that? Like being fucked like a toy?”

You moan happily, and Bucky laughs.

“Thought you might surprise me, babydoll, but no.” He taps your cheek, and you open without a thought. “You’re just the pretty cockslut I thought you were.”

He drags all the way out again, but this time pushes in slower. You whine, but he doesn’t even acknowledge you, setting a slow pace that feels good, but is far too much. The roughness made you numb with a good, fuzzy sensation, but this makes you feel it. Bucky’s cock dragging against your gummy walls, the press of him over your g-spot and heat of him, right over your clit.

You can barely take it. You’re already so fucked out from the other orgasms, you’re barely able to hold onto Bucky properly. You think you might be about to black out from pleasure, but no part of you wants him to stop altogether, and how you’re trapped somewhere between paradise and hell.

“Look at you.” He grabs one of your breasts, palming it as he thrusts smooth and deep. “Nobody else does this to you, do they. Makes you feel so good, gets you so stupid on their cock.”

You shake your head, and Bucky taps your mouth again.

“Words.”

“Bucky…”

“Want to hear you, sweet girl.” He kisses your cheek, words pure filth in your ears. “Here you scream for me while I fuck you, hear how much you love it.”

“Can’t-“

“Yes, you can.” He slams a little firmer, giving you a pointed look. “Good girls listen. And when they listen,” he repeats the motion, holding your gaze. “They get filled up.”

You whimper, but nod. Bucky smiles in satisfaction, returning to his torturous speed from before.

“Anyone else do this to you?” He grunts, and you shake your head.

“No- No. Never, Bucky, only you-“

He groans, picking up his pace. “That’s fuckin’ right. No one fucks you like this, I’m gonna ruin you. If you wanna cum you’ll have to find me, I’m the only one who plays this perfect fuckin’ pussy- Shit-“ He groans, jaw clenching as he hits a little deeper than before. “Nobody takes care of you like me-“

“No one.” You echo, and you’re rewarded with another rough slam. “No one, Bucky, only- Only wanted you, needed you- Fuck-“ You cry out, pressing your cheek into his jaw. “You and your thick cock, needed you so bad-“

“I know. I know, babydoll, but I’m here now.” He kisses you quickly, speeding up again.

It’s enough to make you start to feel it again. Not slowly building, but being dragged out. The tip of Bucky’s cock drags through you, and that hot feeling in your core starts to fill up again. 

“Wanted to do this for so long.” He groans in your ear, and a loud moan escapes your lips. “You really got no idea, I thought I was gonna lose it every time I saw you, thought you’d never let me- God-“

You clench around him, and Bucky angles your hips up, allowing him to hit deeper. You moan, and he kisses the back of your neck, sucking a dark mark.

“My girl.” He mutters possessive, and you babble an agreement. “My smart, mean fucking baby, drunk on my cock. Prettiest girl in the world, mine-“

You moan, and Bucky cuts himself off with a groan. He kisses you again, then rises over you. Bracing his arms on either side of your head as he looks to where he’s fucking into you. Your gaze follows, and the warmth in your gut flares at the sight.

It’s the most vulgar, pornographic thing you’ve ever seen. Bucky’s thick cock, sliding in and out of you with ease. Precum and your own need for him shining on the thickness of him, his chest flexing with restraint as he forces himself to keep the same pace. You watch his cock vanish into your body, and feel him deep inside you, and God-

You look up, checking if Bucky’s as strangely moved by that as you are, and find him staring at you. The moment your eyes meet, he grabs your jaw, pressing you back down into the pillows with a rough kiss. You’re unable to do anything but take it all. Bucky’s tongue pressing down your throat, his lips moving expertly over yours, his cock fucking every word but his name out of your head.

“Look at me.” He rasps when he pulls away, and you nod.

His eyes are almost wholly black, and shining. Tears prick at yours, but Bucky leans down, kissing them away before going faster again.

His balls start to slap on your ass, his cock pumping in and out of you until it’s all you can think about. Bucky deep inside you, lighting you up, how you can feel a rush up your spine with his every thrust. A lewd, wet sound is filling the room as he pounds into you. Your pussy burns and spasms every time, but it’s too good to fight.

Bucky’s too good to fight. You don’t know why you tried for so long.

“Bucky-“ You breathe, and he grunts.

“You’re close, sweetheart.” He mutters, and you don’t know how he knows, but he’s right.

You’re about to snap again. To lose it from how he’s fucking you like you’re a doll and the love of his life, all at once. You grab his wrist, squeezing tight.

“Pretty girl,” he teases. “Gonna soak this cock like a good girl, aren’t you. Give it to me, baby, show me how much you love it-“

“Love you.” You breathe out, and Bucky freezes.

Balls deep, he stills. His cock throbs in protest, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

You blink at him, praying you didn’t ruin it. Bucky swallows, and rasps out your name.

“What?”

“I- I love you- Oh.”

He jerks into you when you say it, and you almost fly out of your skin.

“Fuck, Bucky- I- I love you-“

It happens again, but you don’t think he’s doing it to mess with you. He can barely seem to control himself, his attention almost feral as his cock jumps inside you.

“I- I love you- Oh my god-“

Bucky dives over you, kissing you like he’s trying to steal the words from your mouth. Like he can taste them.

“Damn right you do.” He grunts, cock dragging inside you as he starts to fuck you, shallow and brutal. “Love you, love you so much, you’re-“

He kisses you, and somewhere through the floating, hazy dreamworld his cock is fucking you into, you think he’s run out of words.

Bucky’s fucking you like an animal, because there’s nothing left for either of you to say. He pulls your hips back up to that angle from before, returning to that pace from before that pulled the confession out of you. You’re in incoherent, babbling mess, tugging at the sheets and watching Bucky above you like he’s God.

“Good girl.” Is all he’s grunting out, but it’s deep and every word of a noise than anything else. “Mine, my good fucking girl, gonna fill you up, you’re-“ He moans, doubling over your body as his thrusts become short and harsh. “You’re perfect-“

From nowhere, you find the strength to reach up and grab Bucky’s face. You pull it down, kissing him with every word you’re too ruined to say, and he moans.

Bucky slams home, muttering your name against your lips like a prayer. You can feel him everywhere. Hot and sticky, pumping deep into your own heat, coating your walls, dripping out and running down your ass. When Bucky starts to move again, slow and lazy, he presses it deeper, spreads it everywhere.

It’s hot on your clit, and Bucky’s still jerking and spraying inside of you. You’ve never been this full, it’s addicting. Your brain is empty, body alight with the feeling, Bucky’s cum so thick and demanding that you could swear you feel it washing through your whole body.

He reaches between your legs to rub your clit.

You get there all on your own.  

Your vision goes white, as you cum. You’re so out of it you feel it the same way you feel a cool breeze. Light and relieving, washing over the heat inside you and pulling a happy sigh from your lips.

Bucky kisses you, and this time it’s only sweet. All his mean words and taunts so easily dissolve as you reach up, running your fingers through his hair. He smiles against your lips, and you smile back.

“Told you I’d do it.” He mutters, and you shove his chest with a weak laugh.

“Shut up.”

He grins, moving up to kiss your brow, then the side of your face. He’s still buried inside you. Neither of you are in a rush to move any time soon.

“You mean it, though.” He pauses, moving back over your body.

There are those worry lines again. You reach up with a tiny smile, and soothe your fingers over them. Bucky hums, leaning into your touch, and you smile.

“Yeah.” You whisper, and his shoulders sag.

“Thank god.” He presses his face between your breasts. “That would’ve been bad.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his hair, and he wraps his arms around your body. He’s slid out a little, but you’re still connected to him, and you never want to move again.

“How long?” He mutters against you, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Cause mine was when I saw you.”

You flush stupidly—he’s inside you—and mumble, “Me too.”

Bucky frowns. “But you were always- “

“And were you any better?”

He snorts, leaning up to peck your cheek. “Fair shot.”

“I know.” You snip, then, “You- You meant yours, right? I mean- What you said while…”

You trail off, because you didn’t imagine it. I love you and mine, too sincere to just be dirty talk.

Bucky rises back over you, gently guiding your gaze back to his. He smiles when your eyes meet, and kisses the tip of your nose.

“With everything I fuckin’ got.” He mutters, and you smile.

“Good.”

“I know. I mean, I did really well for myself- I’m complimenting you, woman!”

You’d shoved him, and Bucky grabs your wrists, wrestling them down into the mattress. He looks at you with a rough, fond exasperation.

“You’re a gremlin.”

“You like it.” You beam up at him, and he lower back down, kissing you lightly.

“Tough curse.” He mutters. “But I’m enjoying it.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he grins. Beautiful and all yours.

“Can we stay here for a while?” You ask, just because you want to have this, and sit in it. “Please.”

Bucky nods, and you feel your heart shine like it’s been given new batteries. Beating out of your chest and comfortably all at once, as Bucky rolls you both onto your sides, wrapping tight around you.

“We can do whatever you want.” He mutters, rubbing your hips and kissing the marks on your neck.

You relax, because you believe him. About all of it.

And now, you have him with you for all the time in the world.