#i'll put this on ao3... at some point... eventually...

Mark smiles, faintly roguish, but gentle and just for you.

He holds your stare, and something to the way he does so makes you wonder if he sees the same lights sparkling in your own eyes, and if he finds the sight as oddly captivating as you do.

A minute passes.

Mark loosens his tie.

It's a simple, small thing, but it stirs something inside of you, and you don't know why, but your breath hitches a little and your eyes widen slightly and he definitely notices. But he doesn't say anything and neither do you. All he does is keep looking intensely into your eyes until he doesn't because his gaze is flickering elsewhere — trailing across your features, settling on your mouth for longer than can be dismissed and when you bite your lip subconsciously it's as if he's mesmerised. You can hardly recall where you are or what you're doing here, none of it matters as much as his head tilting ever so slightly and then—

A voice through your earpiece jolts you out of your stupor. You suddenly take stock of the warmth from Mark's breath on your face. Your noses almost bumping. When did he get so close?

You press a button on your earpiece to answer the call, and by the look on your partner's face, he hears it too. It's Wubba and Bubba, giving the signal as agreed, and the moment is gone and your friend clears his throat and straightens up, as a confusing mixture of disappointment and frustration and lingering excitement flutter and twist in your gut.

When he moves out of your immediate space, the inches feel like miles.

You push the feelings down. You have work to do.

Mark mumbles something over the voice channel before turning back to you once again.

'You ready, buddy?'

The corner of your mouth quirks up, matching his own eager grin.

'You know I am.'

His grin widens.

What the heck's a June of Doom?

This is a month-long prompt challenge/ list/ event/ thing that focuses on whump, angst, hurt/ comfort, and the like. Despite the air of doom it exudes, this challenge is very relaxed—your mod knows life happens but you still want to be part of your fandom(s), and sometimes you can't just sit down 30 days in a row to write/ art/ create. So, this list is out stupid early every year so you have the chance to prepare and particiapte! It's never too soon to Doom!

Rules

Tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

Be cool. We're cool here. Don't like, don't read. Don't start none, won't be none. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it. Let people be happy. 💕 (But if someone's comin' at you within the confines of this challenge, let me know ASAP.)

FAQ

You can participate with original and fan works!

You can do so with whatever medium you want!

You can combine this challenge with other challenges!

You can start/ finish this challenge whenever the heck you want! And I'll reblog it here if you tag the blog, even if it's not June!

You can use one, some, or all of the prompts listed for a given day however you want! The point is to be creative!

You can mix and match prompts from different days!

If nothing on a certain day is inspiring you, there are 15 alternate prompts to play with!

Angst, hurt/comfort, and lighter/funnier forms of whump are welcomed and encouraged! Torture takes many forms! :)

I'll post reminders and such as we get closer!

[AO3 Collection] - Open late May 2027

[Banners] - Eventually!

**Only posts that tag the blog @juneofdoom will be reblogged. I am a one-man show and haven't time to comb through all the variants of the #juneofdoom tags anymore with the number of participants we have, so if you want to be featured here on the main blog, just @ me!**

If you have any questions, comments, shout outs, ideas, or just need some encouragement, inbox me anytime, June or not!

Have fun, Doomers! ⚡︎

2027 Prompt List ⚡︎

"Don't panic." | Obedience | Shivering | Vertigo

"I'm trying!" | Whip | Emergency Room | Blackmail

"Leave me alone." | Cold Shoulder | Locked Out | Relapse

"It hurts..." | Headache | Failed Rescue | Bedridden

"Say something." | Desperate Measures | Sobbing | Woozy

"You did this to me." | Experiment | Magical Exhaustion | Hiding

"Let me know when you start." | Numb | Ransom | Antidote

"You poor thing." | Bite | Delusion | Broken Promise

"Don't make me say it again." | Silence | Immortal | Coercion

"I trusted you." | Shackle | Gamble | Abandoned

"You're going to get yourself killed." | God Complex | Threat | Knots

"Who are you?" | Footsteps | Accident | Defiance

"You'll get used to it." | Stitches | Malnutrition | Underwater

"Wait!" | Possession | Auction | Transformation

"Get out of here." | Adrenaline | Smoke | Dead Battery

"Somebody better start talking." | Blood | Holding Back Tears | Dystopia

"Why would you do this?" | Plea | Fatigue | Withheld Medication

"I never said that." | Missing Time | Faint | Plague

"Well, well, well…" | Last Resort | Cane | Comeuppance

"Hopefully." | Brain Fog | Power Outage | Stress

"We're out of water." | Hunted | Stranded | Infection

"What happened?" | Hostage | Electrocution | Fear

"Or what?" | Came Back Wrong | Rage | Cornered

"I didn't know where else to go." | Mask | Submission | Paranoia

"Please don't leave me." | Memorial | Stairs | Wound Cleaning

"Time's up." | Outmatched | Syringe | Exposure

"What were you thinking?" | Attack | Human Shield | Bad News

"I'm fine." | Poison | Kintsugi | Past Trauma

"Had enough?" | Acceptance | Graveyard | Pinned

"Let's get you cleaned up." | Fall | Bandages | Overwhelmed

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

Dehumanization

Drugged

Blankets

Broken Glass

Psychotic Break

Last Rites

Historical Event

Russian Roulette

Prisoner Trade

Phone Call

Damage

Fetal Position

Protective

Basement

Dime, ¿por qué me dices solamante mentiras? Tell me, why do you only tell me lies? Dime, ¿por qué no dices nunca la verdad? Tell me, why do you never tell the truth?

You sang along while doing your makeup. You had just come back to the Watchtower from some very long-overdue vacations. You were sure you didn’t need them, as you did every time someone pointed that out, but the team had been very insistent since you had been working nonstop even before Valentina announced them as the New Avengers. Originally, you had been part of Bucky’s staff while he was running for Congress, and later joined him in DC during his term as his secretary. Once Val made the announcement and the work started to pile up, he called you to join the team to help him. 

The work wasn’t much different than before, so you had adjusted easily. You still worked for Bucky, helping him with the bureaucracy side of being a superhero.  Eventually, your work extended to the rest of the team, from scheduling meetings to ensuring that there was always a supply of food to satisfy the metabolism of a team with enhanced individuals. And that said supply, also included their favorites — not an easy job, but you managed. 

You were efficient, including things that were beyond your job description. You were the bridge to the rest of the departments – marketing, PR, Val’s team, anyone who wanted something from them had to get through you. 

The team trusted you. 

Bucky trusted you. 

You had learned a lot coexisting with him in his tiny office. Knew when to push him and when to give him space. You could read his expressions and grunts like nobody else and knew if he was overwhelmed, bored, angry, or just hungry. You were… friends. 

During his campaign, he would stay by your desk after hours while you worked, even when the bullpen was empty and you were the only ones left there. He wouldn’t leave until you turned off your computer and called it a night, but since you were a workaholic, that meant he would stay there for a few hours, talking over the sound of your keyboard. At some point between talking about his campaign over the bitter flavor of cheap coffee, he opened up to you, telling you about his life and later sharing his insecurities. 

Was he doing the right thing by running for Congress? Would people trust him even though he struggled to trust himself? 

He didn’t walk on eggshells around you — he had learned that way early after meeting you. You saw him, James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. Not the Winter Soldier, not Captain America’s sidekick, not the grumpy version of himself that he used as a shield to the rest of the world. You saw Bucky as a human. 

And he loved you for that. 

Of course, you didn't know about that fact, even though whoever had seen you both together had told you that. 

And you, well, you knew you had a crush. For months, you fought the idea of liking your boss, a big no-no rule in your book. But, just like the common saying, the heart wants what it wants. So you only accepted to yourself that you had a crush. Just a crush. The way your heart acted when you were around him or how your smile got bigger and brighter meant nothing — just a crush, nothing more. 

Lies. 

Mentiras. 

A new notification interrupted your routine, and you rushed to unlock your phone. 

Besties, please tell me I'm not the only one struggling to get the songs out of my mind.

You chuckled at your friend's message. Of course, they weren’t the only ones. In your defense, it was Bucky’s fault, in more ways than one. First of all, the vacations he forced you to take started just as the series adaptation of Mentiras dropped, which led you and your friends to binge-watch it over wine and snacks in one night. You had told your friends that you were finally taking a break from work, and hours later, they surprised you by making the arrangements to do the same and travel to Mexico with you. Watching the series with them was the first step of your two-week plan away from anything work-related once you landed. 

You had the time of your life, singing the songs you didn’t remember you had known. You sang your heart out lyric by lyric — because growing up only made you finally relate to old songs that your mother's generation sang.

And then the Pobre Secretaria number happened. 

Look, look at your secretary Fíjate, fíjate en tu secretaria Oh sir, what pain, poor secretary Ay señor qué dolor pobre secretaria Ask her to copy a hundred thousand times I love you Pídele que copie cien mil veces yo te amo Look, look at your secretary Fíjate, fíjate en tu secretaria Oh sir, what pain poor secretary Ay señor qué dolor pobre secretaria I think she's close to going crazy Creo que le falta poco para enloquecer

Lupita trying to get her boss's attention. Doing so much work for him, all while looking fabulous, rocking some animal print — so 80s. Yeah, your friends quickly pointed out the similarities. From there, each time Lupita appeared in a scene, your friends couldn’t stop saying that it was you. Lupita was also the most efficient bilingual secretary with a massive crush on her boss. 

The main difference was that she managed to get the man. Well, they became fuck-buddies with romantic feelings involved, mainly by Lupita, but with her boss was unclear. Even though he was married, she wasn’t the only mistress he had. But that was another history. 

It didn’t help you that the song was catchy. 

After watching the series, one of your friends even suggested getting tickets to watch the play while you were in Mexico City. The next two weeks had you playing the soundtrack and the original versions of the songs on loop. So it wasn’t shocking that all of you started humming or singing some song every chance you got. 

You texted your friends back and finished your routine, just in time for some coffee and food before dealing with your morning meetings.  Thankfully, you had taken Bucky’s advice and accepted moving to the Watchtower with the team. It was way better that way, having in mind that you had moved from Brooklyn to DC to assist with his term, or at least before he quit and returned to the superhero gig full-time.

He had apologized profusely the first chance he got.

Days later, you were back in NYC without a place to stay, having ended your lease to follow him, and into an eternal cycle of interviews and “We found someone else” speeches.  You crashed on your friend's couch while you thought about what to do next. Lara, your friend and temporary roommate, assured you that it wasn't a problem for you to stay with her for all the time you needed. But you needed to work for your sanity, since the alternative of being a couch potato would only trigger unwanted thoughts for you.

But then the New Avengers happened, and in a few weeks, you received Bucky’s call.

“Buck?” You answered the call, confused. You had seen him on TV during the press conference that announced the team — even though you didn’t expect a call from him, it brought you relief knowing that he was okay. 

He said your name, and you could swear you could hear his smile in his voice.

“Hey, I know right now I don’t have the best references as a boss, but –” He took a deep breath, “I need some help in this new job, and I know you must think that I’m the worst, and I won’t blame you if you do — I just, I can’t think of anybody for the position” 

Silence. 

“You still there?” Bucky asked, bracing himself in case you would react badly. 

“Still here, I’m just confused,” you replied after a beat. “What are you talking about, and how am I even an option for it? God, Bucky, I’m a secretary, I don’t think a superhero needs one.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I do! Val has been throwing us from meeting to meeting. Talking with the press, attending parties where we have to mingle with rich people. She mentioned that we are gonna have a photoshoot with our new gear for some merch.” He sounded exasperated. “Sweetheart, I swear it feels like I’m back on campaign, the only thing missing is you. I need my best team with me, and that is you.”

Your heart made a jump. Sweetheart. You had missed hearing that nickname. You had missed him. 

“Are you sure you’re not just offering this because you feel guilty? We talked about this, Bucky. I’m not mad at you, and you don’t owe me anything.”

“I know, I know. I promise you that this is real. You’re perfect for this job! I trust you, you’re amazing with what you do. I've already spoken with Val, and she's doubled the pay you used to receive. The job description is pretty much the same, but with more perks. Just help me survive all the compromises that Val throws at us. Also, we are moving to the Watchtower. There are plenty of suites waiting to be occupied. You can choose whatever floor you want, that’s part of the perks – that way you can save some money.” He rambled. You could tell the whole thing had him on his nerves. By his voice, you could see him clearly before you. Pacing in front of you, his hand gripping the phone like a lifeline, his free hand brushing his hair back.

The offer sounded good. Too good to be true. You bit your lip and looked at your laptop, the email inbox still open, waiting for the replies to the dozens of CVs that you sent. Bucky’s offer sounded legit. The pay sounded great. And deep down, you knew that the main reason it sounded amazing was because of the man who was calling you. 

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to,” he started backtracking, afraid that he was misreading your silence, “I just —I know you’re perfect for the job, and I miss working with you. If you’re not satisfied with some perks, we can negotiate, just read the contract I’ll send you and think about it.”

“Buck,” you interrupted his ramble. 

“Yes?” 

“When I start?” 

That call had been almost a year ago. 

“Oh my God, you’re back!” Yelena's voice welcomed you once the elevator doors opened. She rushed to hug you and met you halfway to the kitchen. 

“Lena! Hi! I got here pretty late, so I went straight to my floor and fell asleep almost immediately.” 

“I can imagine. It's good to see you back!” 

Besides Bucky, Yelena was one of the ones you were closer to. And just like most of your friends, she was convinced that Bucky and you were madly in love, two dumb idiots who were just dancing around each other. Her words. Or at least the shorter and censored version. 

“Can you believe that even though he suggested your vacations, Bucky got grumpier and sulkier than ever the moment you left?” She said with a smirk while she followed you through the kitchen. You moved with ease around the kitchen, taking out what you needed to prepare your quick breakfast.

“New blouse?” Ava pointed out from her seat while nursing a mug. 

You looked down at the silk fabric.

“Yes, one of my friends' gifts.” 

The day after watching the play, your friends had dragged you around malls in search of something that resembled Lupita's wardrobe – animal print, miniskirts, stockings, or something orange. It started as a joke, but the moment you tried on one of the animal print silk blouses, they wouldn't shut up until you went back home with a full new outfit. 

“Cool, you look good.” Ava smiled softly. 

“Good? She looks sexy!” Yelena exclaimed. “Also with that pencil leather skirt? Those heels? That old man is gonna get a heart attack the moment he sees you.” 

“That or finally all that sexual tension will break,” Ava mumbled, joining Yelena's side next to you while you waited for your coffee to be ready. 

“We have talked about this. He doesn't like me. Besides, he's my boss. At most, we are just friends, nothing more." You recited while you prepared some toast. If you had turned to see them, you would have caught them mouthing your words. By now, they had learned the speech.

“Friends that want to jump each other's bones,” Yelena corrected you. 

You sighed. Yeah, this was a typical morning with the team. 

“It’s too early for this,” you said, rubbing your temples.

“We have two weeks of pent-up teasing. Let us be. Didn't you miss us?” 

You snorted, “You really think that I'm gonna believe that you didn't tease Bucky during that time?” You took a bite of your toast, and with a mug in hand, you took a seat.  

“That's different.” Ava pointed out. Both of them follow you and take a seat on each side.

“Two weeks without teasing you,” Yelena corrected. “Happy?” 

The girls joined you while you ate, keeping you company and catching you up on what happened while you were gone.

Enlisting every proof of Bucky’s change of humor. 

Bucky was in charge of the training plans. Thanks to his experience, he easily found their opportunity areas and wouldn't back up until he saw results. However, those weeks, he had been ruthless with the team. The drills got harder, as if the more bruises and pain they got, the sooner you would be coming back. And that included his own training. Bucky spent more hours in the training room than in his room. Ava was sure he wasn't sleeping enough, finding him there late at night and early in the morning. The team had also caught him countless times staring at your office across his. 

“Just call her”.

Bob had told him one of those many times that they found him staring at your empty spot in the common room. That love seat you swear was perfectly positioned. He had agreed once, and since then, it was usual to see them seated by your side.

“I promised that she was going to be two weeks free from work. I'm part of her work.”  Bucky always mumbled back and went back to the training room or whatever distraction he had that day. 

They also had a couple of missions between that time. They saw the panic in your eyes the moment they said it. So, without a word, Yelena showed you the med bay and debrief records. Each wound had been treated, and they were fine. That was an invasion of privacy, but who could stop her if she wanted to prevent you from spiraling?

You no longer believed them when they said “I'm okay” after a mission. Not since those words were followed by seeing them get off the jet with gunshot wounds, covered in a mix of blood and debris, bruises, cuts, and broken bones. You needed to see them being okay with your own eyes. They were like your family, and call it trauma response, or whatever, but you knew they were as paranoid as you, and they understood your worries. 

They gave you the heads up that Bob had finished the books you had suggested to him, so you had to be ready for an extensive review of each of them. Alexei and John had taken up some online cooking courses. They had started a couple of fires the first few days, but the last attempts seemed okay. Or at least edible. You were thankful you weren't there, since the paperwork to repair the kitchen was exhausting. You already knew that, thanks to that pair, too.

Yelena wanted to show you some new knife tricks and couldn't wait for you to resume your training. It didn’t matter that you were in one of the safest buildings on the planet. All of you knew that by being so close to them, you were an easy target, so Yelena had taken it upon herself to show you some moves of self-defense. However, you weren't known for doing things halfway, so now she was full-on training you. 

Red room training for dummies, trauma light version. 

That was the official name she had given it. It didn’t take long for Ava to join you and to offer to teach you how to shoot a gun. 

Bucky didn't know, of course. You would join them in the training room whenever Bucky was away. It wasn't that you were afraid of his reaction, but he had a particular way of acting around you.

One time, you tripped and hit your knee pretty badly, hurting your ankle in the process. You stayed on the floor for a few minutes, fighting back tears from the pain. Next thing you knew, Bucky was by your side and carried you to the med bay and didn't leave your side. Once you could get back to your room, he carried you there and stayed until he was sure you didn’t need anything else. He kept hovering the next few days until he knew you were better, with a cold compress and ibuprofen ready at any sign of pain.

His hovering was something you were kinda used to — it happened when you were sick, whenever you hurt yourself, or when you were overwhelmed and overworked. He was always there for you, just as you were with him. Except your excuse was that it was technically your job, even though you knew perfectly that you were doing more than a regular secretary would do. 

But your work wasn’t regular either, so who cares? 

After quickly catching up with the girls, you rushed to the first 12th floor of the tower where you had your scheduled meetings. You would typically move around the bottom floors as some of the main departments, offices, and meeting rooms were located there. The highest levels housed the private quarters for the team: suites, common floors with the kitchen, a library and some couches and a big TV, two private training floors with a gym with modified equipment for the enhanced members, a shooting ring and the area for the team drills, the comms room, artillery, the team meeting rooms and the med floor.

The rest of the floors that Val was still working on assigning.

By 11 AM, you finally set foot in your office, and as if they had been waiting for a moment for you to sit and have privacy, a familiar knock on your open door broke the silence. 

“Hi, sweetheart. Were you hiding for me?” He asked, acting hurt. As if he hadn’t known exactly where you were since he had access to your schedule. The little menace he was. 

“Not at all, just running from meeting to meeting, it seems that some departments had a lot to say after two weeks.” You said with a fake cheerful tone. 

“How bad was it?” He grimaced.

“Nothing that I wasn’t expecting,” you tried to hide your smile. Bucky was a professional worrier, so you weren’t surprised by his reaction. “Val, marketing, and PR joined forces, and now I have to schedule a couple of mandatory public appearances, and according to the Marketing Team, you need more merch. You know, the usual.”

“Why do I feel like it is my fault?” He sighed as he left his spot at the door and walked towards the couch you had in your office. 

“It’s not your fault.” You assured him while he lay down. He didn't reply and just closed his eyes. After so many years fighting, he knew which battles to choose. Convincing you that everything wrong was his fault wasn't one of them. 

You really looked at him once he got closer. Ava and Yelena didn't lie – he seemed tired. 

“Sleep a few hours here, you look like hell.” You told him while you were preparing to work for the next hours. Computer on, your favorite pen, sticky notes, and markers nearby, headset fully charged, files ready to be organized by priority.

“Ouch, sweetheart,” he placed his hand over his heart, “I look like hell because I feel like it, thank you very much for the reminder.”

“Bad day?” You asked softly.  

He opened his eyes and looked at you. He had missed you, not only the work you did but your presence. He could relax around you; that had been one of the main reasons you had a couch in your office in the first place. He would always find his way into your office — paperwork in hand and coffee or snacks on the other.

Sometimes he would show up empty-handed and start venting about whatever was bothering him — Sam (especially with the ongoing lawsuit, their interactions turned even more tense ), the team, the government, the internet, the plot of the current book he was reading, even gossip he had overheard thanks to his enhancing.

The days when his mind was so loud and the rest of the world tried to be louder, he would walk straight to your couch and stay silent, enjoying the quiet until he felt ready to talk again. 

Sometimes he would bring work from his office with him or some snacks. He would listen to you rambling about whatever topic you liked and never complain. On bad days, he would even take naps there, especially after a hard mission or a sleepless night where the nightmares became too much. 

“Bad weeks,” he corrected you, and you couldn't stop the thought that maybe your friends haven't exaggerated about him missing you. Your stubbornness told you that anyone in his position would have resented the absence of their assistant.

You didn't ask him to elaborate and just nodded, something you did when you noticed that he was overwhelmed and you would rather wait for him to decide to talk about it. 

“Sleep, Buck. I'll be here when you wake up.” You said, dropping the blinds behind you and adjusting the bright light to a softer one, enough for you to read your files and for him to be able to sleep. 

“Promise?” He looked at you with such vulnerability that you had to clear your throat to stop yourself from confessing your feelings for him right there. 

“I promise,” you finally, barely above a whisper. He gave you a final look and got comfortable on your couch. He took off his boots and unfolded the blanket that you always had ready for moments like this. Once he was satisfied, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

You allowed yourself to get drunk on the sight of him once he fell asleep. Bucky was handsome. And that beauty was accentuated when he allowed himself to relax. The tension left his features and his body, making him look younger, as if the moment he closed his eyes, the years of coldness and darkness melted away. You knew that he still had a few nightmares, but there, in your office, surrounded by you, the nightmares retreated and allowed him to have peace. 

He felt safe. 

And that was obvious. 

But some shadows and ghosts didn't care about that.

He had only had a couple of nightmares there with you, and they had been after some pretty intense missions where innocent people had died, and some of the members of the team had some close calls and had come back barely alive. He felt responsible for the results, and that translated into his dreams. The other times you could swear he had mumbled your name in his sleep, he woke up agitated and on the brink of having a panic attack. He didn't want to talk about what he had dreamed; he just mumbled: “Hydra, too much blood.” 

You never asked him why he had said your name. 

But you could guess by how overprotective he behaved the next few days. He followed as if he were your bodyguard, his eyes scanning for threats in each room you entered. Body tense, ready to jump into action in case of a threat. And you knew that whatever nightmare he had that day, it kept coming back. 

He kept looking at you, as if in any second, whatever wound he saw in his dream would appear. 

You never admitted it, but one of the main reasons you had talked with Yelena to train you was because of the fear you had seen in Bucky’s eyes that day.

The rhythmic sound of your keyboard welcomed Bucky once he woke up. He felt less tired, and the throbbing behind his eyes had stopped. He opened his eyes slowly and quickly found you working on your computer.

A couple of piles of files were in front of you, your eyes jumped from the screen to one of the files, your fingers moving like lightning over your keyboard, only stopping when you reached for your favorite mug — one he had gifted you last Christmas. He shifted so he could look at you better, without you noticing, too focused on the document on your screen, and whatever song was playing on your noise-canceling headset. 

You always joked that as long as there was music, the easier your work became.

When Bucky was there, you would work on curating playlists for him. Once done, you would share it with him so he could listen to it outside your office. The curated playlists became the soundtrack of each of his visits — so you having your headphones on meant that you didn't want to disrupt his sleep. 

There were very, very few things that Bucky was grateful for about his past after the war. Very specific things. The serum had brought him some perks, but there were things he hated. Like how he had to constantly remind himself of controlling his strength, how he had to focus to drown most of the sounds he could pick up now, and how some smells could trigger a migraine. But there were some perks too — he could smell your perfume even from far away, if he focused enough, he could use the sound of your heart to ground himself after watching you die in his arms in his nightmares. 

And right now, he was grateful that he was able to hear you singing even though you were barely making a sound. 

Beloved boss, you've done it Jefe querido lo has conseguido I don't know if I can take it anymore  No sé si pueda aguantar más Look, look at your secretary  Fíjate, fíjate en tu secretaria Oh sir, what pain poor secretaria Ay señor que dolor pobre secretaria Ask her to copy a hundred thousand times I love you  Pídele que copie cien mil veces yo te amo

Bucky blinked slowly. No, he wasn't dreaming. He was used to dreaming about you. But, it wasn't one of those usual dreams where he would find yourself and him dating. God, he still remembers the one where you had a ring on your finger and you called him husband.

Something he would add to the list was that HYDRA had been very insistent on the number of languages that the Winter Soldier was fluent in, so he could infiltrate whatever government they needed. He had invested countless hours in becoming fluent in most of them. Spanish was one of those that he still secretly practiced since noticing that, just as Yelena, you would slip into another language from time to time. 

He also knew that you were completely oblivious of the fact that he could understand you. He had learned that when Val had come over and basically called all of them idiots, when she turned around and was far enough, you had mumbled under your breath, “Un día de estos le voy a partir su madre,” and then you had looked at him with the sweetest and innocent smile as if you hadn't just said that you would kick her ass someday. 

He acted as if he didn't understand you, and from then noticed every single time your Spanish slipped through. More than once, he had wanted to tell you, but something stopped him.

You kept singing about a secretary begging for her boss to notice her — notice that she loved him.  

Did you feel the same as him? He felt his heart beating faster. Do you love him as he loves you? Do you also go out of your way to have his attention because you can't live a day without seeing his smile or hearing his voice? 

“Mierda, Bucky! One of these days you’re going to kill me!” You exclaimed once your eyes wandered and found him looking directly at you. After removing your headphones, your hand moved to your chest, trying to ease your fast-beating heart.

“Sorry, you looked so focused, didn’t want to interrupt you.” he looked at the clock on the wall and quickly sat up. “Damn, I slept for that many hours?” 

“Yup, how was your nap?” You asked while grabbing a few documents and placed them on the pile of files that you needed the team to read and sign. 

“Great, as always,” he stretched his arms, making his shirt rise and showing a bit of his skin. Your mouth went dry at the sight, and you quickly took a sip from your mug. “Wait — fuck, did we miss lunch?”

You nodded, “It’s okay, I’m behind in so much paperwork, I was going to skip it anyway.”

“Sweetheart, you know that that’s the main reason that we have lunch together every day,” he got up and folded your blanket. “Come on, you have to eat something.”

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you tried to ignore the way his eyes burned your skin.  

He said your name with a serious tone. Fuck. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly that you wondered how it would sound if — NOPE, you weren’t going there. 

“We're not having this conversation again, come on,” he walked towards you and before he got closer you rushed to save your documents and shut down your computer, you knew him so well that you knew he was capable of turning your computer off without a warning — he had done that once, even if you had an unspoken rule of keeping him away of your desk if not needed. 

“I hate you,” you said, getting up, unplugging your phone, and grabbing your purse. 

“No, you don't,” the corner of his mouth went up with a playful smirk. 

Oh, how bad you wanted to kiss him. Just to erase that smile, not because you dreamt about how his lips would feel against yours.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that,” he walked beside you out of your office, his hand resting in the small of your back to guide you to the team-only elevator. 

The conversation flowed with familiar ease as you walked through the city. He barely left your side, only moving away when you got to your favorite diner. Bucky and you usually liked to try new places out. It started as a way for him to get familiar again with the city, and after eating, he would take out his notebook and rate the food and place. Eventually, you joined him on his ritual, and now the notebook was filled with his and your handwriting. 

He guided you to your favorite boot and sat down across from you. The familiar waitress saw you from afar and quickly placed your usual order.

One of your many perks of being a regular. 

“So, how was your trip? You barely posted anything,” he asked once your food arrived. 

“Barnes,” you gasped dramatically, earning you a laugh from him. “Were you seriously stalking my social media? Should I place a complaint with HR?” 

“You’re so funny,” he tried to bite back his smile, and then he did the Bucky Barnes tongue thing. His tongue darted out of his mouth and slid over his lips. “Seriously, did you have a good time?”

“I did,” you smiled, “Sorry for not keeping in touch with you and the team. I said vacation, and my friends heard phone detox. They took my phone away and only gave it back when we were sightseeing for pictures.” 

You didn’t add that you also did it since you were afraid that you would send him a drunk text confessing your feelings and how you wished he would kiss you breathless, ran his hands over your whole body and that you didn’t care if you didn’t make it to the bedroom you would like — you took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks blushing. You tried to play it cool, reaching for your drink. 

“You do work a lot, I'm glad they helped you clear your head.”

You huffed, “I was suffering from withdrawals from the movement we landed.” That was true, “And hey, don’t make it sound like I can’t talk with you outside of work-related stuff. You asked me to take a break from work, not from you.”

He looked at you with such intensity that you had a hard time keeping your eyes on him. “Is that true?” 

“I'm not lying!” Against your better judgment, you reached across the table and grabbed his metal hand. “Buck, I’m serious, I enjoy talking with you. You don’t make me feel like I’m too much, and you listen. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who cares? My life is better with you in it. So shut up, eat your fries, and don't ever imply that you’re just a work thing for me  ‘cause you're not, you're so much more to me than that.” 

You took a deep exhale and tried to move away, but his hand rushed to grab yours, as if losing contact was unbearable. Your eyes went from your joined hands to his face. His blue eyes stared directly at you, and his mouth opened and closed, and you could see the wheels on his head trying to figure out how to respond. 

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, you suddenly felt self-conscious. 

Wait, why was he taking so long to say something? 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Fucking excellent. 

You didn't tell him that you loved him, but you might as well tell him something very close to that. If your friends could see you now, they would've said that during your speech, you were looking at him just as Dulce had to Emmanuel. You had looked at him with raw intensity, as if he were the oxygen you needed to survive. You wanted to laugh, you went from Pobre Secretaria to De mi enamorate. 

Since I saw you, I lost my identity  Desde que te ví, mi identidad perdí In my head, you are, only you and no one else en mi cabeza estás, sólo tú y nadie más and it hurts me to think that you will not be mine, fall in love with me y me duele al pensar que mío no serás, de mí enamorate. Look, the day you fall in love with me Mira qué el día que de mí te enamores yo I will be happy and with pure love voy a ser felíz y con puro amor I will protect you and it will be an honor te protegeré y será un honor to dedicate myself to you, may God want it. dedicarme a tí eso quiera Dios.

And here you thought that the only thing you had in common with Dulce was your horniness. 

Bucky was still speechless, something that didn't help your anxiety. You cleared your throat, as if you knew exactly what you were to say. 

I'm sorry for being so straightforward? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable? I don't know what you're thinking, but of course I didn't mean that I love you — that would be insane, right? Hey, so, do we kiss now?  If you don't feel the same, maybe just one kiss and I'm gonna be out of your sight?

Great, you were already spiraling.

Can we make out but make it bad so I can move on? Forget what I said because we are not telling our children that I confessed my feelings in such an embarrassing way, but hey, they know their mother, so obviously, they know I would totally do it that way. 

Thankfully, none of those thoughts got out of your mouth. The bubble you were immersed in popped up when a familiar ringtone filled the space between you. 

Bucky blinked, almost fearing that you would disappear in any second,  “Sorry, I have — I have to take this,” his voice sounded low and coarse. He let go of your hand and reached into the inside of his jacket, where he had his phone. 

His mumbled ramble was drowned by your thoughts.

What have you done? You were just thinking that you had avoided sending him a drunk love confession via text, and now here you were contemplating whether your words had been vague enough to backtrack and assure him that you meant it in a friendly way.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Sure, sometimes he would be oblivious to modern flirting, but he was still a man. A beautiful, charming man from the 40s who wasn't new to the sight of girls yearning for him. A man who used to be a heartthrob, and your heart was prof enough that he still was. 

Jesus, you had heard the stories. The first time you met Sam, he had made sure that you knew every embarrassing story that Steve had shared. You knew about his countless dates, how he would save every penny he could just to take them to dance, to diners, and organize perfect, cute dates. That beautiful bastard who, once upon a time, used to smile more and, with his disarming charm, made every single girl he met fall in love with him.

And the worst part? 

He didn't even fucking try. He just was himself. 

You tried to relax, taking deep breaths and doing the exercises that Bucky had shared with you that helped with his own anxiety. Both of you had a personal vendetta against his last therapist — well, his was personal, yours was on his behalf, but you couldn’t lie about some of the tools working. You were in the middle of one of the grounding exercises when you noticed he was calling your name. 

“Hey, you okay?” Of course, he noticed your panic. You almost facepalmed yourself. His enhanced hearing probably picked up the thumping of your heart and the agitation in your breath. 

“Yeah, just remembered all the paperwork that is waiting for me at the tower, do you mind if I take this to go?” You pointed at your plate and, without waiting for his answer, you called the waitress. He followed your lead — because, of course, he wouldn’t let you go alone, and didn’t talk to you until you both were in your car. He on the driving seat as he always did when you went out together. 

He cleared his throat. “So, your trip?” He asked with caution, trying to go back to the unfinished conversation. Careful. He hadn’t started the car yet. He wouldn’t let you go without at least breaking the uncommon awkwardness that was now between you. 

“What about it?” You replied. Of course, fake confusion, maybe he is going to forget about your embarrassing comment. 

"Did it change your thoughts about taking days off more regularly?” He was looking at the keys in his hand, avoiding eye contact just like you. His voice was steady, but the spinning of your keys told you how anxious he was really feeling. 

“Not really, I don't know. I forgot what it was like not worrying about work. But I'm so used to it that it's just weird after a few days.” 

“Sorry about that, though.”

You snorted, “Buck, it’s not your fault that I'm a workaholic. You could have given me the simplest job, and I would have found a way to stress about it. And most importantly —” 

You finally met his eyes. Even if you wanted to keep your feelings at bay, you could never lie to him. And you had already embarrassed yourself, you had nothing to lose.

“I find myself loving what I do, so thank you for giving me a chance to keep doing that.” You smiled softly, his smile mirrored yours, and with a nod, he started the car. 

You’ll see, sometimes you wonder if the universe hates you. Your life growing up was far from a fairytale. The only man that you had let into your life, the one you trusted more than anything, and with the one you wished to wake up next to each morning, was your boss. You loved him, and you were sure he didn’t feel the same. 

Your phone rang in that exact moment. The phone call wasn’t a problem; you had taken calls thousands of times with him by your side. No, the problem wasn’t that. The Problem with the capital P was that your friends had changed your ringtone without you knowing. The usual Beyoncé song that used to be your ringtone was now replaced with the chorus of Pobre secretaría. And not only that, your phone was connected to your car the moment Bucky started it, so now the voice of Mariana Treviño blasted out of the speakers. 

You squealed, and with panic and trembling hands, you pulled out your phone from your purse. Remember that the world hated you? Well, somehow the call connected (Bucky had pushed a button from the console, but you didn’t notice), and the voice of one of your friends replaced Mariana’s. 

“Bee! How is your day going? Long day with your baby?” Your friend made her best impression of Lupita’s voice, saying her boss’s nickname. Su beibis. “Wait, what’s that? Are those wedding bells?” 

“Lara, you’re on speaker! Shut up,” you raised your voice while trying to redirect the call to your phone. 

“Don’t be rude!” Lara exclaimed, offended, but you could hear her laughing, “So have you told him that you lo-?” Her voice cut from the speakers and moved to your phone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  

“Lara! Please, stop!” Your panicked voice echoed through the line, and god bless your friend, she noticed, her laugh ceased immediately. 

“Are you okay?” She asked with worry. “What happened? Did he react badly?” 

“I’ll call you later! I'm with my boss, driving back to the tower!” 

“Oh shit, fuck, I’m sorry!” She apologized, and it was impossible to tell who was now in more panic, her or you. 

“Talk to you later! Bye!” 

Silence met you once you lowered your phone; you made sure to put your phone in do-not-disturb mode before dropping it into your purse. 

Bucky didn't know what to do with himself. You had ended your call, and you were now playing nervously with the keychain of your purse; he hoped you couldn't see how tense he was. But it was obvious, his jaw was locked, body tense, knuckles white from the way he was gripping the steering wheel. 

Your friend had reacted with panic when you told her that he was with you and had listened to the conversation. 

His mind was already drawing a conclusion that he didn't like. It was clear that you were hiding something. Something that you didn't want him to know.

But what? 

Did you meet someone on your trip? Was that the reason you were avoiding talking more about it? You usually were an oversharer with him, so something was stopping you. Or worse, were you already seeing someone and now the relationship was serious enough to consider marriage? Had he done something and lost your trust? 

Did he lose his chance with you?

None of you said a word during the short trip to the tower. You broke the silence once you got to the parking lot, and you started telling him about your trip. The places you went, the food you ate. You even told him that he would love it and you would make sure to schedule him a trip there soon. 

Another thing that Bucky thought he was thankful for was that he could tell when someone lied to him; he could detect deflecting without problem. It was useful in the field, on missions that required interrogation. Right now, he hated it because, thanks to that ability, he could tell that you were doing it. You weren't telling him the truth, at least not completely. He could tell by the way your body reacted, the shakiness in your voice, how you stuttered and redirected in certain parts, and he could hear the fast thumping of your heart. Your eyes weren't meeting his; even when you looked at him, you were fidgeting as if you didn't know what to do with your hands.

It broke his heart thinking that you didn't trust him anymore. 

Yes, he could tell that you were indeed bending the truth. Omitting some facts and being vague about others. But you had a good reason to do it. What he didn’t know, and at the time you also didn't, was that besides finally getting to rest from work, that wasn't the only purpose of your vacation. 

By day 2, you found out that Lara, one of your best friends, the one that had told you about the series in first place, the one that made you swear that you would avoid spoilers like a plague, who was super vague about the plot and just said “You’re gonna love it, just trust me” and the first to gasp the moment Lupita showed up and pointed at the screen exclaiming that it was you and kept pointing the similarities. 

Lara had watched the musical before. More than once. She knew exactly what it was about. Her favorite song was Pobre Secretaria. Lara was the one who convinced you to watch the play at the local theater, even though she had bought the tickets the moment she knew you were going to the city. 

Your vacations weren't about resting; they were an intervention. 

Over those two weeks, your friends made you open your eyes to your feelings about Bucky. You still downplayed it to a simple crush, but you knew it was a lie. You loved him. And your friends rotted for you. They wanted to see you happy, but waiting for Bucky to look at you as more than a friend and assistant was killing you. 

For years, you have loved him in silence. You had proclaimed your love in each playlist, in each conversation where your walls crumbled, one by one. You had found comfort in him, and in doing so, he found comfort in you, each hug and soft smile. Each time your touch lingered more than it should. Your love was loud and electric in each silent interaction. 

But it killed you that, after every day filled with him, you went back to an empty bed. That each morning you woke up looking at the wall instead of blue eyes. Each day that you buried your feelings, a part of you felt like a void. 

So two days ago, before you ended your vacation, you got drunk. And intoxicated you, had made them a promise that once you were back in the city, and the moment you saw Bucky, you were going to tell him the truth. Enough of hiding, enough of lonely nights. You were going to confess, and if he didn't feel the same – well, you would allow yourself to cry about it for a few days, but you would take it with your chin up. 

You knew that you were good at your job, so you weren't scared about losing it. You were professional. Maybe some changes would be necessary, move your office to another floor, maybe move out of the tower so you could have a safe space and don't have to worry about seeing him every day. In the worst-case scenario, you could also ask to move your job to home office, since they didn't need you there, you could just take your meetings on video call and send your reports and files via email. 

So naturally, Lara, who was unfamiliar with the term patience, was the first of the group to crack and call you to check on you. Give you support, or apparently, start planning your wedding. 

Bucky left you on the floor of your office, excusing himself, arguing that he needed to check something in the common room. Once the elevator doors opened, he walked directly to the couch where Bob was reading comfortably. 

“You’re back! Is she in her office? I stopped by a few hours ago to discuss the book she recommended. It's so good, you should read it. She said to talk later since you were sleeping –” he got up rambling, but before he could take a step towards the elevator, Bucky stopped him. 

“I need to talk to you,” Bucky grumbled, running his hand through his hair in a clear sign of the storm brewing inside him, and signed to him to follow him. “But not here, c’mon”

“Okay?” Bob followed him, confused but curious. 

Bucky guided him towards his quarters, and once he made sure to lock the door behind them, he motioned for him to take a seat on the couch while he sat in a chair in front of him. 

“Hmm, so what do you want to talk about?” Bob asked after a moment of silence. 

Bucky sighed, his shoulders dropped, and he buried his face in his hands, “I think I fucked up.”

“That’s vague. Go on.”

“Okay, so, a little bit of context. I think I love my assistant.” Bob's eyebrows got up, “Scratch that, I know I love her.”

Bob disguised his laugh with a cough, “Sorry, you were saying?”

“I love her, Bob.” 

“Yeah, I heard you." Bob sighed, "Bucky, can I be honest?” Bucky nodded and looked at him, his left hand fidgeting while the other rested against his forehead. “You’re the last one to know this. Well, except for her. If she knows, she hides it pretty well, but in all seriousness, according to what I’ve heard. She might think that she’s only an employee and friend to you.”

“You think?” 

“I know. What happened? It was about damn time that you figured it out, don't get me wrong, but you look,” Bob made a motion with his hand up and down, “distressed.” 

“I don’t know, everything? She went away, and even though we had been apart before, this time it felt as if part of me had left with her. It wasn’t that I was used to having her around. I missed her, her laugh, her jokes, the way she just knows, I missed how I feel when I’m around her." Bucky stood up and started pacing around, hands gesturing to emphasize his words. "The moment she was back, I could finally breathe knowing she was safe. I just wanted to kiss her. Did you see her in her new outfit? She looks so cute and… sexy, fuck, I wanted to kiss her so bad. And part of me was about to just do it, kiss her, confess, but the other part,” 

He shook his head and closed his eyes, as if what he was about to say pained him, “The other part of me is telling me that I have to keep my distance. In this line of work, what if someone finds out what she means to me and targets her because of me? What if I hurt her? Emotionally or…” he raised his left hand, “physically? She was free, but I selfishly pulled her back with me when we started this team. I thought that I would be happy just getting to see her around, but now that’s not enough.” 

He sat back in silence after that, eyes glossed over with tears that he refused to let out. 

“Damn, there's a lot to unpack there,” Bob added after a beat. “Listen, I understand, I feel like that sometimes, you know? Between the urge to leave so I don't hurt all of you, and wanting to stay since you're my family. She does live with all of us, but if she weren't, she would still be living in New York. She has been living here since the Battle of New York, and she's still here. Sometimes, I even wonder why she doesn't hate me since she was in the void too.” 

Bucky cursed under his breath. he didn't know that. He thought you were still in DC when the whole Valentina and Bob thing went down. He knew you had watched the press conference that occurred after — you had told him that. But you had never talked about being in the void, and now he felt like shit again. He wondered if he had known what he could have done differently. 

Bob noticed his tension and urged him to look at him. “She told me this once when I asked her, and now I'm going to repeat it to you. You can't shield someone forever, you can’t build a cage around them and hope that they will be okay with it. And yes, maybe you can hurt her, and maybe she’s gonna get hurt by others, but the thing is, you are gonna try your best because you care, you’re gonna protect her when you can, and if it comes to that, you are going to make sure to be there to help her back on her feet if something happens. Like a friend, like family, and in your case… like something more.” 

“She doesn't fear us, so don't let your fear stop you, don’t place those fears on her because, honestly, if she thought you would hurt her, she wouldn’t be working with you.” Bob ended his speech with a deep sigh. 

“Thanks, Bob,” Bucky took a deep breath and nodded, but then shook his head. “So what do I do now? I think I lost my chance with her. Her friend said – Well, I think she implied she is seeing someone.” 

Bob frowned, “Are you sure? Ava and Yelena talked to her this morning, and she didn't mention anything. Maybe it's nothing serious.”

“She joked about marriage. That sounds serious to me.” 

“Grandpa, you can be single and joke about marriage.” 

Bucky laughed, “You're lucky I like you.” 

Bob smiled at him, “Wait! Isn't tomorrow the event that Val wants us to go to?”

Bucky frowned while Bob pulled out his phone, a few seconds after Bob had almost shoved the phone into Bucky's face. “This is your chance!” 

On the screen, he saw a poster that you had sent to the team on their group chat. Some stunt that Val had told you the team needed to do. The local animal shelter was hosting a superhero-themed event to encourage citizens to donate and adopt a pet. During the event, citizens would spend some time with animals and the team. Val only saw the opportunity to gain the team some popularity and positive press. 

“How is that supposed to help me get her to date me?” 

“Don't you remember? Last month, over dinner? When Ava asked her what she was looking for in a partner? She said that she wanted someone who loved animals, like her! It's your chance to show her you could be that man!” 

Oh, of course, he remembered that. He had written that list in one of his notebooks the moment he got to his place right after dinner. 

“So, what's the plan? Surround myself with pets until she sees me?” 

“Don't be silly, wait until she gets interested in something and then go there and make conversation out of it. Easy.”

“Really?” Bob nodded with enthusiasm, “This is why you're not in charge of strategies.”

“Well, Sarge, get those brain cells to work and think of something!” 

If anybody walked on them during those next hours, they would think they were planning for war. At some point, Bob left and brought back a whiteboard for one of the meeting rooms. They didn't call it a night until they figured out a plan, or at least a rough idea of what Bucky would do the next day. 

“So that's it,” Bob said, looking at the plan written on the board. 

Operation Lovebirds.

“Hope it works.”

“Trust me, Barnes! By this hour tomorrow, you and she are going to be kissing and calling each other cringy nicknames.”

“Sweetheart isn't cringy.” 

Bob laughed and got up off the couch. “Can I ask you something?”

“After helping me with all of this? Sure.” 

“Why me?” Bob mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Bucky looked at him as if he had told him that he had grown a second pair of arms. 

Bob shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know, you could have asked for help from anyone else. Someone else on the team, even Mel, but you came directly to me. Why was that?” 

Bucky smiled at him fondly and placed a hand on his shoulder, “I trust you, Bob. I know you are a good kid, so I knew you wouldn't mock me and wouldn't be afraid to call me out. As I said, I like you. And you're my friend.” 

Bob smiled at him, “Thanks, Bucky. You're my friend too.” 

Your morning moved at a fast pace; you had some meetings and had to go over every detail for today's event. You had made sure to make a file with all the logistics that involved the event, and had already sent it over to each member of the team. From time frames that they had to cover, to maps with the exits and security team locations marked — Bucky had mentioned once he felt less anxious knowing that when you first met him, since then, you always added it to the debrief. Each member had been assigned to a specific zone, but you had interjected so the team would be able to choose theirs once they arrived, since you thought it was better if they actually enjoyed their positions. 

“Look alive, team! The shelter has a goal of adoptions and donations! Big smiles, aren't you excited to see all those puppies and kittens?” You exclaimed once you got to the common room. The team was by the couches, wearing their full gear, except for you and Bob, of course. Your outfit was different from what they were used to seeing you in, far away from your usual business attire. Black high-waisted trousers with a white crop top and a cap over your ponytail, instead of heels, you were wearing a pair of white tennis shoes. 

“How much caffeine is in your veins right now?” John asked with a teasing smirk. You were buzzing with excitement while searching for something in the cupboards. 

“Can you believe I only had my morning cup?” You replied, stopping right in front of Yelena and Bucky. They looked at you with confusion, eyes going from your face to the couple of plastic containers between your arms. “You're only allowed to take 2 weapons with you. No guns, though. The rest put them in the box.” You dropped one of them on the couch between them and the other on the coffee table that was by John.

“Is this necessary?” Yelena asked, taking out knife after knife from the compartments of her suit. 

Bucky just followed your instruction in silence— after all, he was used to it since you had done the same since he was working on his campaign.

“Yes! You're going to a charity event, a family event, may I add. You're off the field today, let the security team do their job.” 

“But what if–” Alexei started, but you raised a hand to stop him. 

“If there is a threat, there will be guns in our van. I will allow you 2 weapons each, so you can feel less anxious about it.” You closed the containers and ushered them towards the elevator. 

 “C'mon, Bob.” You called for him, keeping the elevator open when you noticed he didn't follow. 

“I'm not a New Avenger.” He said with a frown. 

“You're still part of the team, and aren't you excited to get some puppy cuddles?” You gave him an encouraging smile. He looked at you and then the rest of the team. 

“Let's go, Bob! We Thunderbolts have to stick together!” Alexei exclaimed next to John. 

“That isn't our name.” John corrected him. 

“We're Thunderbolts in our hearts, and New Avengers to the outside world. Bob is a Thunderbolt.” Once Bob was closer to the group, Alexei approached him and steered him towards the group by resting his arm over his shoulders.

On your way to the designated van, Bucky allowed himself to stay by your side. You talked briefly with the driver and with some members of the PR team. At the end of the day, today was a publicity stunt, so Val wanted to have her team at the event to take pictures and have live updates on the team's social media. You, as always, repeated the team's boundaries and reminded them that any post had to be approved by the team themselves and that they had to respect if any of them asked for a moment with no photos. 

Once you finished, you got on the van, with Bucky following right after you. 

First step of the plan: Stay close. What better way for you to notice that the man you wanted was already in front of you?  Second step: Confess. Third step: Kiss and live happily ever after.

“Are you okay?” You asked him softly. 

“Yeah, why?” His pulse spiked. Was he acting weird? He did what he usually does, by your side as a way of protection —but now he had a different agenda; he wanted to be close so you could see him. 

“You've been quiet. More than usual.” You interrupted his thought. 

Oh

That. Yeah, he had been in his head, going through his plan for today over and over. He was overthinking every step and what he would do. Was he making it weird?

“Sorry, rough night.” You frowned but didn't question him, just nodded and looked straightforward. 

He bumped his shoulder against yours softly, “I'm fine, I promise.” 

“I just worry sometimes, more than I should.” You mumbled, loud enough just for him to hear.

“Don't say that,” you turned to see him, “you wouldn't be you if you didn't worry.” 

You huffed a laugh while shaking your head. 

“5 minutes.” The driver indicated. You nodded and took out your phone to look at your notes.  

It was moments like this that he reminded himself that this was your battlefield. The team was your army, you knew each of their strengths and weaknesses, and you used them to make them overcome whatever plan Val threw at you.

“Well, guys, before we get there, does anybody have any questions?” You turned around to see the team behind you.

Bob raised his hand from the backseat. “What am I supposed to do? Do I have a schedule too?” 

“Glad you asked, you, my friend, are going to be my right hand today.” You raised your phone and shook it in the air, “Check your phone, I sent you a copy of the debrief, so you're going to help me keep them on schedule. I can't be everywhere, and knowing myself, I'm gonna get distracted. Besides that, have fun, we all need it.” 

Bob nodded and took out his phone to read what you sent him. You answered any last-minute concerns before you got to the park, where the event had already started. 

When the door of the van opened, a cacophony of sounds welcomed you. Barks, laughs, conversations, and squeaks from some toys. It made Bucky stumble a little on his feet, suddenly overwhelmed. Without saying anything, you took out a pair of earplugs and gently placed them on his hand, closing it around them so they wouldn’t fall.

And just like that, he was back to his campaign, events full of press, eyes and cameras focused on him. You, by his side, your soft touch grounding him and bringing him comfort. Forgotten were the flashes and the politicians. Just you and him. 

You made eye contact, and he was met with a kind smile that said, “Just in case you need them.” You softly squeezed his closed hand and turned around to guide the team towards the first stop. 

“Oh my God!” Your excited voice took him out of his mind. You had started walking with the team and had stopped suddenly. Your eyes were wide open in glee, your pace quickened, and in record time, you were in front of a big photo station. 

The backdrop was a photo of the Watchtower, and the New Avengers logo was on one corner. In front of it? Dogs dressed as each member of the team. You melted at the sight, dropping to your knees in front of them, arms wide open to hug and kiss them. 

“You look so cute!” You exclaimed between giggles. Currently, “Doglena”, a young golden retriever, was eclipsing your attention while “Winter Puppy”, a border collie with icy blue eyes, whimpered to get your attention. “You too, big boy! There are enough cuddles and kisses for all of you! No need for that!”

Bucky didn't miss how Bob looked from the dog to him and tried to hide his smile, mocking the irony. 

“Well, this explains why they asked us to use our full gear.” Ava pointed out. One by one, the team gathered in front of the dogs, some of them even petting them. 

“They don’t bite, Dad,” Yelena elbowed Alexei, encouraging him to get closer.

“I see that you already met the New Puppy Avengers!” Your head snapped towards the voice. 

“Megan! Hi!” You quickly got up but kept one of your hands petting Winter Puppy. “So nice to finally meet you in person!” You introduced yourself and the team. “Team, Megan is one of the organizers of the event. ”

“Thank you for making time to join us! I’m such a great fan of yours, so having you here in the flesh is certainly amazing,” Megan said with a smile, staring directly at Bucky. You squinted your eyes at that. You hadn’t missed how Megan had looked at Bucky; her eyes had wandered over his body. Something that didn’t pass unnoticed by Bob, Ava, and Yelena. 

“Do you need any help locating your stations? Sergeant?” Megan added, and that was your cue to move closer to him.

“Don’t worry, Megan. We got this from this! The team already knows where to go. Bob and I will help them if we need to.” You said with a fake smile on your face. You didn’t wait to hear her reply and quickly motioned to one of Val’s photographers. “We should take a picture of them with the dogs before starting,” you told the guy. 

Once the photo was taken, you told the team to walk around the place and choose where they wanted to stay for the next hour. Bob joined Alexei, John, and Ava. You took the left, followed by Bucky and Yelena. 

Yelena rushed her pace until she was next to you. Just one look at her made you roll your eyes and sigh heavily.

“Save it. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t.” If looks could kill, yours would have Yelena five feet under. 

“I’m not saying anything!” She raised both hands, but the smirk on her face didn’t leave; on the contrary, her smirk deepened. 

Oh, she was enjoying this. So fucking much.

“I just didn’t know you were so territorial, that's all.” Your head snapped towards her with fire in your eyes. You bit your tongue to stop from saying something, knowing that Bucky was within earshot, walking a few feet behind you. 

Thankfully, one of the large pet enclosures caught her attention, and she rushed to join the volunteer who was talking with some adults and their kids. Yelena approached and started interacting with the kid and the dog he was playing with. 

“For a Val’s idea, I think this one was one of the best. The team needed this.” Bucky said, next to you, he had stopped right next to you, his eyes going from Yelena to you. 

You snorted, “My God, Bucky. Do you think it was her idea?” His mouth opened, and you could see realization hit him. “I suggested this since her original idea was to make a reality show for the team."

“Like the ones you made me watch with you?” He teased.

You nodded with a proud smile, “Yeah, and the ones you pretend to hate.” 

“I do hate them.”

“Buck, you got all grumpy when they eliminated your fav!” You said, trying to hold your laugh. 

“They didn’t see their potential! So disappointing.” He faked annoyance, but when his eyes met you, both of you started laughing. Full belly laugh. "Of course it was going to ruin my day!"

“We were re-watching the show! And you already knew who won since we had watched the episode when it originally dropped!” You said, tears already forming in your eyes from your laughter. 

When the laughter died down, he got closer and locked his arm with you, resuming your walk. The tension between you dissipated, leaving behind the familiar feeling of comfort and pure happiness in its place. 

This was one of the many reasons you loved him.

He made it all… so easy. Your stress always drains out of your body when you are with him. As if his presence shooed the worries away.

Together, you spent the next hours moving through a couple of the pet enclosures until Bucky decided to stay in the cat zone. You were sitting in the grass, a few kittens by your feet, but your eyes were zeroed in on Bucky. 

Bucky, who had let go of your side the moment his eyes landed on a particular cat. He had stood up quickly, barely mumbling that he would be back soon. You saw him pick up one of the cats that was near the fence, where some beds, food, and water were placed. His eyes moved around the enclosure until he located his target.

The volunteer assigned to that area was now talking with him about the adoption process while he kept that same cat in his arms — a fluffy white cat with blue eyes. You took out your phone and took a photo of him. 

He looked so relaxed and carefree. Not a soldier, just Bucky Barnes. The cat was carefully tucked against his chest, blinking slowly, and Bucky kept stroking behind its ears. After a few minutes, the volunteer excused themselves and walked away towards a teenager. 

“I didn’t know you were a cat person,” you mumbled once he was back next to you, the cat still in his arms. 

“She reminds me of the cat I had when I was younger.” He said, his eyes looking down towards the cat in his chest. A shy smile appeared on his face. “We barely had food for ourselves, but my ma made sure to always save something for a stray cat that always came in the night, meowing outside the kitchen’s window. A few weeks later, the cat found their way inside the house and never left. Becca named her Snowball.” 

“You’ve never told me that.” You said softly, aware of how hard this type of topic was to him. You could tell by the way his shoulders dropped as if the weight of his past got heavier. 

You felt your chest tighten.

Even though you had talked about his life before Hydra countless times, it was always hard. It made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. It made him aware of the open wound that was the past. He still mourned the life he was supposed to have had if he had returned home from war. 

“I didn’t remember it until I saw this little one.” He held the cat a little bit tighter. His eyes were glossy when he turned to see you. 

Oh, how bad you wanted to kiss him. It would’ve been so easy – to close the distance between you both and meet his lips. You could’ve told him right there your feelings for him. Told him how badly you wished to be part of his future. But instead, you swallowed your words and just shifted until you were side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

A silent way of telling him that it was okay, that you understood, and that you were there for support if he needed it. He leaned against you, a response to your move. 

Thank you, I know. I got you, too. 

“Are you going to adopt her?” You asked after a beat. Softly.

“I already did.” Both of you let out a chuckle, you raised your hand and touched the fur of the cat softly. Your fingers brushed Bucky’s, and for a second, the world stopped. 

You met Bucky’s eyes, and he was looking at you with such intensity that it made your skin warm. You opened your mouth, but it suddenly felt dry. Words stuck in your throat. You licked your lips, and for a second, you swear that Bucky had looked at your lips. 

“Hey! Do you mind if I take a picture?” A cheerful voice broke the silence, making you and Bucky snap your heads towards the sound. In a heartbeat, Bucky had moved his left arm in front of you, pushing you back to keep you safe from the unknown threat. “I’m with the Daily Bugle!” The young man raised his badge, and you immediately noticed that attached to it. He had another one that read PRESS in bold letters. 

“Wait. Daily Bugle?” You asked. That morning, you had checked the publications that had press access to the event. The Daily Bugle wasn’t part of them. Since Val had ensured that after an untasteful article against the team. Unless — no, it couldn’t be, the only way of them being there was if they had sent an unbiased reporter, or someone who had previously worked with you. Someone who was already cleared by the PR team. Which meant that…

Someone exclaimed your name, breaking your line of thought. Bucky stood up first, and then he offered you his hand. Once you were up, you walked towards the person, shaking your head with disbelief. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked once you reached the fence. Bucky was quickly behind you. 

“Is that how you say hi to your best friend?” She said with fake offense, you rolled your eyes and hugged her. 

“Mr. Barnes, it's a pleasure to see you again."

“Bucky. Do you remember my friend Lara?” You squinted your eyes at her. Technically, nothing was wrong, but she was a hopeless romantic who took your love life as a challenge. Her showing here could mean many things, trouble being one of the main ones. 

“Of course, how could I forget one of the very few journalists who unironically wanted to hear about my proposals?”

Lara smiled at him, “What can I say? I never shy away from the truth and a good story. I was also very lucky that my best friend worked for you. Which reminds me,” she turned to look at you, and just one look at her eyes, you knew that she was planning something. “You won’t believe who else is here.”

“Who?” 

As if he was waiting for his cue — and knowing the pair, he must have — a voice surged from the background noise.  “Abejita!” Your eyes widened, and you turned just in time to be lifted from the ground, spinning you around. Joaquin Torres, the new Falcon,was hugging you, arms wrapped around your waist and holding you up against his chest. 

Rom-com material.

If it wasn't for the fact that your Romeo was currently standing away from you, holding his cat.

Bucky cleared his throat. Joaquin let you go just enough to touch the ground again, but kept one arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to his side. “Oh, how rude of me, hello Barnes.”

“You two know each other?” Bucky asked with a blank expression, but you knew him better and could tell he was tense. 

“Abejita, didn’t tell you?” Joaquin asked with a teasing smile. His arm tightened around your shoulders.

You closed your eyes. You knew this was coming. Joaquin and Lara were wild carts on their own. But together? They got worse. This didn't look good. Not for you, at least. You were sure they were having the time of their lives.

"We have a bunch of friends in common. Including Miss Lara, here." Joaquin added. "Lara thought we would make a very cute couple. We went out on a couple of dates but decided to stay friends."

You opened your eyes just in time to see Bucky tense his jaw. His eyes were now a darker blue hue than they used to be.

You didn't know if you had to be grateful or mad that Joaquin didn't add that the main reason for you not to become a thing was standing right before them. The jury was still out on that one.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" You exclaimed suddenly, taking a step forward, placing yourself next to Bucky. Who was still sending daggers with his eyes to Joaquin. He looked very villain-y, considering he was currently petting a white cat.

Lara, in the meantime, looked like the cat that got the cream. It seemed that whatever she wanted to accomplish, she had.

"You're not wearing your watch." Lara pointed out, raising one eyebrow.

"I don't need to. I'm counting every second in my mind." You said with an expression that you hoped would make it clear that you would be talking to them about it later. "If you excuse us, we have to get going."

"Wait, no," Lara's smile disappeared. Maybe her plan had worked, but she was still there to do her work. "I wanted to do an interview!"

"Make an appointment! Talk with his manager!" You yelled, pushing Bucky with both hands.

"You're basically his manager!" Lara yelled back.

"Nuh uh, I'm his secretary!" You didn't get to hear her reply. Once you were far enough, you got to a secluded bench. Away from the path and the unwanted looks. Bucky followed you in silence.

"So," he started talking. You turned your body to face him once he took a seat, looking at him with a nervous smile. "You and Joaquin."

"Pff, it was nothing." You said, deciding to play it cool.

"You never told me." He sounded… hurt. He tried to avoid your gaze, eyes focused on the sleepy Alpine in his chest.

"There was nothing to tell, Bucky."

"You dated him." He said with a sharp tone. "It didn't occur to you to tell me that you went out with Joaquin? After everything…" He huffed. "It wouldn't surprise me that Sam is behind this."

"What? Wait, what are you talking about?" You asked, taken aback.

"Don't be naive, sweetheart. I told you how the situation is right now with him."

You flinched. "Wait, James," you said with a serious tone. It was his turn to flinch. That made him finally meet your eyes. "Are you implying that someone would date me only to get to you?"

Hearing you say it, with the venom in your words, made him realize his mistake. "Sweetheart."

"Don't sweetheart me, answer the question, James."

He didn't reply. Instead, he looked at his feet, ashamed.

"Unbelievable." You got up from the bench. Lips tight. You shook your head a few times. Your ponytail moved with each movement. When you turned, he saw that your eyes were shiny with unshed tears. "Do you think I am that unlovable?"

He said your name.

"Just answer!"

"I'm not saying that! Don't put words in my mouth!" He got up. In two strides, he was in front of you, forcing you to look up.

"Well, you're not saying anything!"

"That's because I'm afraid of what I'm going to say if I do!" He raised his voice. He was heavy breathing now. The only thing between you was Alpine, who was now awake and looking at you as if she were watching a tennis match.

You laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" He repeated your name, "Hey! What is that funny?"

You shook your head. "Nothing, it's just that for a moment I thought you were jealous." You spat the word as if it were the funniest joke you had made. That froze him.

Were you laughing because him being jealous was something you could only see as a joke?

"But then I remembered that your main concern was if Sam had somehow devised a twisted plan to get to you. That someone would only date me because that would allow them to take a scoop at the New Avengers and their mighty leader."

Bucky looked at you, stunned.

"Well. I'm sorry to inform you that your skills are getting rusty, and it's actually your paranoia talking." You crossed your arms over your chest. To anyone watching, you were making sure to take a defensive stance. But Bucky knew better. You were closing off. Bottling up your feelings since you learned to do that.

"Lara and Joaquin met in college. They were roommates at one point. I've known him for years. He's part of my friend group." You emphasize. "The reason you and Sam didn't know about it it's because we wanted to avoid exactly this." You waved your hand in front of you. "We are both adults, so we decided to keep our friendship under wraps, far away from whatever playground problem you keep arguing about."

A single tear rolled down your left cheek.

He raised his right arm and attempted to brush it off. But you took a step back.

"I'm gonna go, now. Since Alpine got your tongue." You let out a dry laugh. You uncrossed your arms and pressed your palms together. The side of your palms brushing your lips as if you were thinking something. "Hey, maybe I can still go back and find Joaquin. According to you, we have to go and debrief and maybe tell him to change their strategy since you figured out their devious plan." You gestured with your palms still pressed. "Wait, no, because we had those dates last year, you know, before your whole divorce drama. Add that to your intel, Mr. Barnes." Your voice sounded detached. Gone was the usual warmth in your tone.

His chest hurt. You never called him Mr. Barnes. He was Buck or Bucky to you. Barnes, if you were teasing him. Never, Mr. Barnes.

You looked at him. Silently begged for him to say something. But he only stood there. Mouth agape. Looking at you with wide eyes.

You nodded. Your left hand brushed the tear off, but by the time you were turning around, he saw how more tears stained your cheeks.

"At least you could have said something to defend yourself, boss." Your voice broke mid-sentence. But you kept your head up as you walked away.

Amor, tranquilo, no te voy a molestar Love, don't worry, I won't bother you Mi suerte estaba echada, ya lo sé My fate was already sealed, I know it Y sé que hay un torrente dando vueltas por tu mente And I know there's a torrent running through your mind

"Barnes! Open the door," Yelena knocked on Bucky's door again. She had been trying to make him talk since they arrived from the event.

That had been two days ago.

You had left early. Bob had found Bucky sitting on the same bench where you left him. His eyes were puffy, even if he would never admit that he had cried.

For the last couple of days, Bucky had been ignoring everything and everyone — except his new roommate, Alpine. The thought of going to his office and you ignoring him? It made him sick. The team was a problem, too. The moment Bob came back to the van with only him and a cat, questions arose.

Where were you?

Was he okay?

Cute cat, hmm, why do you have it?

Bob followed him to his room when they arrived at the Watchtower. The burning question, "How did the plan go?" hung in the air while Bucky prepared his room for Alpine.

The moment that broke Bucky was finding a box and an envelope, hidden in one of his drawers, while changing after they arrived. A cute souvenir you had gotten for him from your trip. A miniature of the Pyramid of the Sun in obsidian and gold. And a postal, dated the last day of your trip.

I found this on a street market during my trip. The black obsidian with gold reminded me of you. I'm supposed to be having fun away from work, but here I am, being hunted by you in souvenir form. How rude of you. I'm missing you and can't wait to tell you how this trip is going. I have so much to tell you. This trip has been… eye-opening. With all my heart, your sweetheart.

You had doodled a heart next to your sign.

His knees gave out, and he cried. Because the postal only confirmed what he had seen in your eyes before, but had been blind enough to ignore.

His sentiments weren't unrequited.

Bob held him while he cried. He listened to him while he expressed his frustration with himself.

Why the fuck didn't he say something? Why didn't he stop you? He could have confessed right there. Told you all the reasons why you were wrong. That you were loved. And he had loved you since he met you.

But he didn't say any of that. And he punished himself for it.

Ya lo ves, la vida es así You see, life is like this Tú te vas y yo me quedo aquí You leave, and I'll stay here Lloverá y ya no seré tuya It will rain and I won't be yours anymore Seré la gata bajo la lluvia I'll be the cat under the rain Y maullaré por ti And I'll meow for you

If you were on talking terms with him, he would have texted you that your playlist "Sing your sadness away", was not working. He had tried. He was still sad. But the songs were good, as always.

"What are you doing?" Bucky heard Bob asking outside his door. It was late. He was probably bringing him food like the days before. Knowing that Bucky wouldn't get up from his bed, and just kept playing sad music.

"I'm not going out of here if he doesn't open the door. He has to fix whatever happened that day."

"She didn't tell you?" Bob asked with curiosity.

"No! She's acting as if everything is okay! But she seems distant! Cold! I-I miss my friend. I know she's hurting too." Yelena sounded desperate. And Bucky knew she wasn't faking it. Or exaggerating. This was a friend who wanted to help his friend.

That was what made him open the door.

"Fuck, you look like hell." She pointed out. Bucky indeed looked like hell. He hadn't shaved. He was still wearing his pajamas. His long hair looked greasy and unbrushed.

Talking about googling depression and the scene before her would pop up.

"Hi, to you too, Lena." Bucky's voice sounded hoarse from all the crying and no use. "Come in."

"So what happened?" Yelena asked once the door closed.

Bucky took the food container from Bob's hands. And strode towards his couch and started eating without a word. Bob, taking up the silent sign that he didn't want to talk, sighed. He took it upon himself and related the events that had led to that day.

Yelena was buzzing with frustration when he was done.

"Why didn't you say anything? She basically begged you to say something, anything!" She had taken a throw pillow and kept hitting him with it, accentuating each word.

Thankfully, no food was affected since the empty container was placed on the coffee table.

"I chicken out, okay?" Bucky mumbled, frustrated. He buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. The vivid image of torment. "Every single time I tried to say something, my mind just kept telling me that I don't deserve her, that she's better without me."

Yelana huffed. "It didn't occur to you that, maybe, she thinks the same but about herself?"

"What?" Bucky looked at her, stunned. "Why would she think that? She deserves so much better than me! She is—" He got up, "She is everything I've ever wanted in my life."

"God, you're both so stubborn. Just talk to her!"

"And then what Yelena? Huh? What if I fuck it up and she decides to leave?" Bucky exclaimed, gesturing with his hands in the air. "I don't want to hurt her." His voice cracked.

"I'm sorry for breaking this news to you, but you already hurt her."

Her phone ringing made her stop her scolding. A look at her phone screen confirmed to her that this was going to be an interesting night.

"Get him to shower and shave." She looked at Bob and got out of the room.

In retrospect, going out with your friends while you went through a technically-not-a-breakup that hurt just as bad was a bad, a very bad idea.

Lara and Joaquin had felt somehow responsible for the situation, so they had tried to make it up to you, trying to make you feel better. Taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant hadn't worked to cheer you up. You had barely touched your plate, so they had taken drastic measures.

Technically, their new plan was your fault. You had been the one who had suggested going to a karaoke place while watching a K-drama. You had been so excited. Naturally, they thought it would help to take you to a Korean Karaoke Bar — they even got a private room with tasty snacks and drinks.

It was on them that they hadn't prepared for the scene before them: You belting your heart out to Castillos while making your best impression of Amanda Miguel. You had already sung the mix of El me mintio/Mentiras/Mentiras, it had been your first song of the night.

They had tried distracting you with Lara's rendition of Espresso. Joaquin even sang Unwritten — he had that song stuck in his mind since the group picked Anyone But You during your monthly movie night.

But when your turn came, Castillos started playing and there you were: with ruined mascara straining your cheeks, wearing one of your favorite dresses that you only wear during nights out, and Lara's blazer over your naked shoulders.

Entonces pude verlo tal cual era Then I could see him as he truly was Y lo que descubrí me destrozó And what I discovered shattered me Mi rey era un monstruo de piedra My king was a stone monster Con el corazón de piedra With a heart of stone

The worst part? You weren't even drunk. Your drink with Soju cocktail was still untouched on the table.

Pagó por mi amor con piedras He paid for my love with stones Rompió mi ilusión con piedras He shattered my illusion with stones Yo fui una vez esa ingenua fiel I was once that naive faithful one Que este cuento creyó realidad Who believed this tale was reality Y pagué tan caro mi estupidez And I paid so dearly for my foolishness Que no quiero atreverme a soñar That I do not dare to dream.

"What should we do?" Joaquin whispered.

"Don't look at me! I already pulled out all of my cards! And that didn't cheer her up!" Lara whispered back.

No quiero más castillos en el aire

I don't want more castles in the air

Ni reyes que lastiman sin piedad

Nor kings who hurt mercilessly

Your voice cracked, but you kept singing while you cried.

"Lara!" Joaquin begged.

"Okay, okay!" She pulled out her phone and scrolled down until a familiar contact photo popped up on the screen.

"Since when do you have Yelena's number?" Joaquin looked at her with a sharp look as her hand hovered over the call icon. "Lara?"

"So you remember, last year, that the New Avengers planned Bee's birthday party?" Lara asked, using your nickname that had been born as a way to call you out for your workaholic nature. Joaquin called you the Spanish version of little bee: Abejita.

"The one I wasn't invited to keep Bucky away from finding out I'm one of her best friends? I remember."

"That one," Lara rolled her eyes, "I may have or haven't flirted with her. At first, it was to help Bee! I swear!" Joaquin lifted an eyebrow. "Anyways! Shush, she might help us."

"Yeah, call your girlfriend to the rescue. She's gonna bring him."

"Maybe, that'swhat she needs." Lara looked up at you. The song had ended, and you kept sobbing, eating fries from a bowl. "Bee? Do you want to call it a night? It's getting late." You nodded. "Do you mind if I call for an Uber for you? I don't trust you driving at this hour and… in your condition."

"I don't mind, thank you." You said, walking over towards them and sitting next to Joaquin, he quickly side hugged you. He pulled you closer to him, so you could rest your head over his shoulder.

"Ánimo, Abejita!" Lara smiled at you and walked out of the room with her phone in her hand.

"Do you want to sing Tiempos Mejores with me?" Joaquin asked you, and you nodded against his shoulder. He reached the control and, with a mic in hand, he sang with you and held you while you cried.

In the end, like the song said.

Siempre vendran tiempos mejores.

Better times will always come.

The cold bite of the night air reminded you of why you always used a jacket with the dress you were wearing. Your face was already cold, since you had cleaned your face with water before getting outside. You didn't want your Uber to think that you were more of a mess than you were at that moment.

Even if your red, puffy eyes were enough for anyone to know that you had a rough night.

"Hey Lara, you didn't text me my Uber's info." You said over your shoulder while you scrolled on your phone with a frown. She hadn't used your phone, but she had just told you that your raid was already outside.

"Uber, miss?" You snapped your head towards the familiar voice.

Bucky Fucking Barnes.

Your boss.

The last person you wanted to see after singing your heart out to pop ballads. Songs that you picked after he unknowingly broke your heart.

You straightened your spine.

"Do you have the pin code?" You asked with a cold tone.

"Do you, miss?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. He was still holding the passenger door of your car open.

"I have it!" Lara exclaimed, still standing just outside the establishment. A smug smile on her face. Of fucking course she was behind this. "It's two-zero - fucking talk it out like the adults you are- two-five."

You sighed. Typical Lara, she always lets you cry your feelings out, but always reminds you to focus on finding a solution. You turned to look at her and flipped her off (with love) after saying goodbye and blowing her a kiss. Thankfully, Joaquin was still inside the building, but knowing them, he had stayed behind to avoid Bucky seeing him.

Bucky called your name when he saw you walking towards the backseat door.

"What? You're an Uber, aren't you?" You asked, closing the door behind you.

He sighed in defeat, and after closing the passenger door, he got behind the steering wheel.

"Hey, I know I hurt you." He started speaking as soon as he hit the road.

"Don't." You met his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Not here, just… drive."

He looked unsure but still nodded

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to just be. From your seat, you could smell his familiar cologne. His hair looked wet — you assumed he had just taken a shower. The silence wasn't what you expected. It was comfortable.

You had missed him.

God, how much you had missed him.

Even if you weren't talking, he kept stealing glances through the rear-view mirror, his eyes burning your skin. Even if you acted cold, and had to bury your hands under your thighs to stop yourself from jumping to his lap.

The argument had only dialed your feelings to 200%. It felt like too much. The weight of your emotions was unbearable now.

And now, looking at the back of his head, you realized something.

You needed to quit.

Being around him and not being able to call him yours hurt before all of this, and now? It was torture. You had survived the last days because he had also closed up— he had maintained his distance. Not once had you seen his face in the Tower.

But that wasn't something maintainable. He had missions and meetings scheduled, debriefs where your presence was required.

For fuck sake, your offices were across from each other, glass panels allowed for you to see each other while working because your work was so interlinked with each other. He brought work to your office couch because it was much easier than having to stand up and cross the hallway or worse, writing an email.

You had to protect your heart. Or at least, the pieces that were left.

Suddenly, the door opened, and you were met with his hand stretched for you to take. He helped you out of the car and guided you towards the private elevator.

You'll see, Lara was your best friend. And bless her heart, she knew you like the palm of her hand. That meant she knew where your mind would lead you once you were near Bucky. Cut to her calling Yelena back immediately as you both left the karaoke bar.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Bob asked as they both entered the security room.

"It might be the only way for them to actually talk." Yelena pointed out. Walking straight to a worker.

"Hi! I'm gonna need you to move for the next hour or two." Yelena said with a smile.

The worker blinked, confused.

"What?" He said. Yelena, still with a smile, patted his back until he got up and walked away, muttering something about hoping that they didn't discount those hours from his salary.

Once she sat on the chair, her eyes searched the monitors until a familiar car entered the parking lot. She smiled to herself and pulled out a menu on the monitor before her. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and mouse, searching for something specific.

Two minutes passed, and then she pressed a single key.

"One hour, start now," Bob told her.

The elevator groaned as it came to a stop abruptly. Bucky, who had been standing on the other side of the elevator, quickly shifted until he was standing in front of you, his arm stretched out so you would stay in the corner you had picked.

"What's happening?" You tried to stay calm and ignore how close he was.

He tilted his head a little, and you knew he was straining his ears to hear whatever was going on outside.

"I don't hear anything outside of the normal; none of the alarms are off." He removed his arm but stayed silent in front of you, his gaze going from the doors to the ceiling. Almost as if he was waiting to hear an alarm going off.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, scrolling through your calendar and emails.

"There are no emergency drills scheduled, nor maintenance." You told him and squeezed yourself against the wall until you were in front of the panel. You pressed the emergency button, the one supposed to connect you with the guard in turn.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

You groaned.

Great. Just great. Excellent. Great timing!

Bucky was still hovering behind you. He had moved with you because when you took a step back, his chest collided against your back. You tried not to react, but still you moved until you were on the opposite corner. Unfortunately, your dress made it a little hard to sit comfortably, so you stayed on your feet.

Bucky cleared his throat, getting ready to say something, but he swallowed his words when he saw you taking out your phone again. He saw you sending emails and trying to call security, but it was in vain.

"Jesus Christ, just talk!" A voice came out from the speakers.

"Yelena?" Your jaw dropped. "Let us out of here!"

"Not until you talk it out!"

"This is not funny, open the door, Lena!"

"Not happening, unless you talk!"

"I can't believe this." You mumbled, tilting your head and resting it against the wall.

"I can," Bucky added, which made you look at him with suspicion.

You crossed your arms.

"You're behind this, aren't you?" You squinted at him.

"I'm—" Bucky tried to say, but you were already shaking your head.

"This is not gonna work," you said, and as a tear rolled on your cheek, you kept your chin up and added: "I'm quitting."

"What?" Bucky paled.

"You heard me." You repeated, still

"I can explain. At the event," He tried to get closer, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"This is not about what happened at the event!" you cut him off. "Well, it is, in part. I'm still hurt about that, but I can understand it and see how it might look to you."

You did, of course, you understood. It had taken you a few moments to see it. Bucky, after everything, still had walls around him, and for a good reason. He had opened up to you — but that didn't mean he wasn't scared and doubtful about how long the calm would last.

You knew it. The whole copyright lawsuit? It had fractured the trust Bucky had started to achieve. Even if Sam was only the face the government used to file the lawsuit, it had put a breach between them. So, thinking that you had betrayed him had made him snap.

But, as you had said, it still hurt.

"I don't understand." He mumbled. He looked so lost and sad. It broke your heart.

"I can do this anymore."

He said your name.

Fuck it, I already quit. You thought to yourself.

"I love you," his eyes widened, "I love you so much that it hurts. I've tried to bury them, God, I tried to date other people, but they weren't you. It wasn't fair to them. So I loved you in silence, knowing that you would never reciprocate my feelings."

That snapped him out of his shock. Bucky closed the distance between you and smashed his lips against you. Your eyes were wide open, your mouth agape as you stared at him in awe. Both hands resting on his chest. It was unclear if you were pushing him or trying to bring him closer to you.

"Don't you ever question my feelings for you." He growled, both of his hands were holding the sides of your face, his thumbs wiping your tears. "Sorry for kissing you without your consent, I just needed you to erase that stupid idea from your beautiful head." He added softly after a beat.

"That's okay," you mumbled, "Hmm, sorry, what do you mean by your feelings?"

"Sweetheart," he smiled at you as if you had asked if the sky was blue. "I love you, too."

You chuckled, "You do?"

He nodded.

This time, you kissed him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing him closer. Lips and teeth clashing since both of you kept smiling like lunatics.

He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you. His metal hand traveled down until it held your thigh and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist.

The elevator came back to life, and the door opened on his floor.

"Get out! Now! Keep it PG-13!" Yelena's voice came back through the speakers.

You giggled against his lips as he carried you to his room.

The moment the door opened, you froze. Not because both of you entering the room made Alpine jump from the couch and hide. But because there was music playing. A familiar song.

Acaríciame y ahógame en tus brazos, cuídame

Caress me, and drown me in your arms, take care of me

Y mátame despacio, mírame ¿No ves que estoy muriéndome?

And kill me slowly, watch me. Can't you see I'm dying?

¡Acaríciame! Tan suave como el aire, amor

Caress me! As soft as air, love

Tan fuerte como el huracán que ciega mi mente

As strong as the hurricane that blinds my mind

"What? Everything okay?" Bucky asked when you stopped kissing him. You lowered your legs as you searched the source of the music. Your eyes landed on his tablet, which was resting on his coffee table.

"Uhm, Bucky? What's with that song?" You asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, that," he blushed. "I may be going through an '80s music phase." He said, scrunching his nose. Something told you that wasn't the main reason, but you let it go.

You gave him a look. "In Spanish."

"In Spanish." He smiled and kissed your cheek, "¿Puedo acariciarte, cariño?" he whispered against your ear. (Can I caress you, darling?)

Your legs nearly gave out.

"Huh," you looked at him as if he had grown another head, but you still nodded.

"Sorry if my pronunciation it's a little bit off, it's been years since I had to speak it.". He added, kissing the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps behind.

"All this time," he nodded against your skin. "I can't believe this. Why didn't you tell me?" You whimpered when you felt him biting your sensitive skin.

"And risk that you stopped talking freely in Spanish around me? Never. Especially when you sang those songs… how did it go? Fíjate, fíjate en tu secretaria?" He sang with a teasing smile as he pulled you with him until he was sitting on his couch, and you were on his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. "Sweetheart, my eyes have never left you," he whispered against your lips before kissing you over and over again.

There were many things left to figure out. But his kisses and touch kept those worries at bay. He kissed you until it was clear that he wasn't going anywhere, and that you weren't either. He worshiped your body as if he had found a new religion. His hands never left you until you felt his touch tattooed to your skin. His praises became music to your ears as you showed each other what heaven felt like.

A few things were left clear that night

Long forgotten were the lies you told to yourself.

You loved him.

He loved you.

Bucky's plan had been a disaster, but somehow he had gotten to step 3: Kiss and live happily ever after.

And good luck if anybody dared to keep you apart.

taglist: @houseofhyde @vxllys (leave a comment if you want me to add you to the taglist)

"You knew?" How come she never said anything?

"I saw it in your files once."

"Okay. First question, why were you snooping on my files? Second question why didn’t you tell me?"

"First question, curiosity. Second question, I have money on it, kid. Couldn’t just give it away like that."

"Is that why it always feels like you guys are scheming something behind our backs? You were trying to see when we would realize?"

"Among other reasons." Now she’s back to being secretive, great. "You really didn’t know?"

"No!" Now you feel like an even bigger idiot.

"Okay. So you finally got inside each other's pants and ended up in the building you didn’t know you shared?"

"It wasn’t anything like that, will you quit?" She just smirks at you. "We were dead on our feet the other night after the double shift and he offered to give me a ride home which I accepted after much insistence on his part. I told you that much before leaving the hospital. I fell asleep in the car and woke up in the garage. I've never been to the garage floor cause as you know I'm too paranoid to drive."

"So when did you realize?" Oh, this is getting good. Maybe she’s right to treat it like gossip, maybe you would too if it wasn’t your own personal nightmare.

"Elevators look pretty standard, right? And keep in mind I was more than half asleep. He insists I stay over. Different floor plan and layout, blackout curtains down on all windows when we arrived. I wake up at almost 7 am, starving." You're definitely skipping the part where you slept in his bed with him. "Go to the kitchen about to eat Abbot alive for breakfast if he didn’t have any food and BAM almost the same view from my windows when he opened the blinds. I ran out of there so fast he probably thinks I'm insane, it was humiliating." Also never mind having no pants on, irrelevant detail.

"No, he doesn’t." She shakes her head smiling at your defeated face. "What I wouldn’t give to have seen your face right there."

"Ugh, I know." You hide your face in your crossed arms on the hub's counter as she sits back checking on a tablet.

"How did you never run into each other before?" The million dollar question that remains unanswered.

"I don't know." You mumble remaining in your improvised hiding spot. "We kept opposite shifts before so that makes more sense with leaving and sleeping at different times. Now in the night shift I guess we leave at similar times but Abbot drives and I take the bus so we continued to always miss the other leaving or meeting at the same time."

"Well, now you know." She pats the crown of your head as if appeasing a sad puppy. "Up and at em, dollface. Go put your stuff away, I have a case for you."

She always does, just another day of work.

Of course he had his favorite problem for a neighbor. He couldn't believe it when you left the other morning like the sight out his windows scared you back into reality. You were so quiet and honest for a moment there, a rare thing around him where you weren't exchanging jabs like your life depended on it and he lost you completely when he lifted the black out curtains and you ran out. So Jack decided to give you some space before you disappeared on him again. He wouldn’t put it past you to move apartments at this point so he held back from pressing every doorbell to see you opening the door. That doesn’t mean he's going to miss the opportunity to mess with you at work, though.

You're charting in a small station near central when he notices it, he smiles at you from across the counter when you somehow feel his eyes on you, quickly going back to whatever you were typing.

"Is that my shirt, Trouble?" He stands near your chair now but you don't give him much attention.

"Nope." It is.

"Are you sure about that? Cause it really looks like my shirt." You continue to type like he’s not bothering you.

"Very sure. You know there are multiple brands that sell plain gray t-shirts right?"

"Not old t-shirts with a hole on the neck seam I gave you to sleep in." He touches the unraveled stitch near your nape to piss you off further.

"Shhh, someone will hear you." You slap his hand away for good measure.

"What about it, are you scared they’re gonna know you don't like sleeping alone?" He forces eye contact by lowering his face to your now shocked one.

You look at him like you're about to shove your pen in his eye but an incoming trauma cuts your conversation short for now.

When he saw you again later in the shift you had a scrub top over your new old shirt.

April 15th, 2025 - Jack's Apartment

You could do the mature thing, right? Jack is going to find out where you live eventually and there's no need to keep staying confined in your apartment. It's a day off for both of you so you decide to offer him an olive branch in the form of food—just cause you're cooking anyways and you could share your lasagna with him so he doesn’t starve to death, of course.

Making sure to not wear his stupid soft shirt again also having done laundry earlier you knock on his door three times instead of ringing the doorbell, if he doesn’t listen at least you tried. He opens the door not ten seconds later. Once again only in boxers and the heat from his apartment waves up on you, he’s using crutches this time, probably giving his leg a break for once.

"Why are you naked again?" Nice and normal conversation starter.

"You didn’t seem to have any complaints last time." You keep a straight face and he gives the honest answer. "I keep it warm in here so my leg doesn’t hurt from constant cold air like in the hospital, and I'm not naked." Okay. "What are you doing here, Trouble?" Rude.

He rests his hip on the side of the door supporting his weight on the wall. You can see the apartment behind him filled with light this time comparing to the other day where the black out curtains were all closed.

"Can't a girl be a little charitable towards an elderly veteran?" He smiles at that like we was expecting an offense from you already.

"Oh, this charity? You want me to sign you up as a volunteer at the VA?" He scratches his stubble and you raise your occupied hands so he'll get a hint.

"Done that already before I transferred to the pitt. I think I have my hands full at the moment."

He looks at the steam blurred glass container in your hand and back at you before taking a deep breath, moving out of the way so you can get in. Guess you have to since you need to set it in the kitchen for him.

"Lasagna?" He closes the door after you, following you in towards the dining table.

"Made too much, thought I'd share."

"Smells nice, is it poisoned?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know, Dr. Abbot?"

"I would actually, yeah."

"Want a refresh on the poison management protocol? We can go through the steps together if you'd like. I'm sure you forgot some things given your old age and all."

"I'm good, thanks."

He stands by the other side of the table as you set the dish down having another realization in his damn kitchen as you look from him back at the street outside.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S YOU!"

"It's me, what?" He asks faking interest as the fishes a fork from a drawer opening the container ready to dig in.

"YOU'RE THE NAKED NEIGHBOR!" You exclaimed once again shocked.

"We have a naked neighbor?" He drops the fork back to the table, sitting down instead.

"No, you are the naked neighbor."

"Someone saw me?" He looks back towards the kitchen windows like you did earlier.

"Don't sound so embarrassed." You cross your arms at his unimpressed face.

"Oh, I'm proud of it." He raises his chin smirking like he usually does.

"I can't believe it. The girls from the coffee shop out front would always tell me about this naked man they see out the windows sometimes." It was him this whole time.

"I didn't know people could see in here, say sorry for me if you see them again, please." He doesn’t seem very apologetic at all, on the contrary.

"Oh, they’re not offended trust me, you should get them some of your fan club t-shirts."

"I'll work on it." He fucking smirks again, of course he is proud.

"Okay, that's all then. Call an ambulance if you need help, but leave my container by my door before you croak."

He nods crossing his very naked arms at you, suddenly his high thermostat is starting to make you sweat. "I don't know where you live." He shrugs. "You didn’t exactly have time to tell me last time after you left running. Didn’t even eat breakfast." Smug son of a bitch.

"I forgot I had something to do, I was running late." What a good excuse.

"Yeah, right." He goes back to his fork and maybe you should have poisoned the damn lasagna.

"One floor bellow yours, left corner apartment." You've obviously only telling him so he gives your glass container back.

"Neat. Thanks for this."

"Sure. I'll walk myself out."

"You usually do." He smiles again and you start walking towards the door ready to get back to isolation.

April 18th, 2025 - PTMC

It was rough shift, you were tired and would rather be taking a nap now but your small break would only allow for a quick snack.

"Wanna share lunch?" You ask Jack as he sits beside you on the break room with a refilled coffee.

"Isn't that dinner?"

"Nope, dinner is the meal I have when I get home in the morning."

"Wouldn’t that be breakfast?"

"That's the meal I have when I wake up at 4pm. You know, when I break my fast."

"Right of course. Cause that makes perfect sense." He rubs at this tired face.

"Totally does." You insist as he stretches his arms over his head, resting his back on the chair.

"You're a weirdo." He gives up, leaving you to finish your meal when someone calls him up for a case.

It's closer to the morning now when you find him in the roof this time, offering him a granola bar as you open one for yourself for a quick bite before being needed back in the pitt.

"What meal would this be?" He accepts it none the less, voice a little hoarse, you shared a tough case before he disappeared to the roof once the patient went in to surgery.

You grab his wrist to tell the time on his watch. "That would be a 3:47 am snack."

"Right. What else could it be?"

"You're finally catching up." You bump your shoulder to his arm. "Walsh called, said things were looking better then expected."

He breathes out relieved. "That's good."

"Yeah, I'll see you downstairs." You leave him alone for now.

Your Apartment

After much insistence again you accept Jack's ride home, only cause it was a rough day and he was going to the same place as you either way. He jokingly said he'd walk you to your door and he did, you jokingly asked if he wanted to have something to eat and he said yes, so here you are. The door is open and as you remove your shoes by the entry carpet after leaving your bag on the floor he remains outside taking in your place.

"Not gonna invite me in?" He has his hands by the doorframe looking at you expectantly.

"Are you a vampire?"

"I work the night shift, don't I?" He raises his eyebrows at your eye roll for his lame joke.

"Just come in, Jack." He sets his bag by yours following you in into the kitchen. You stop midway to push your overflowing laundry basket out of the way and towards the couch. "Sorry about that. Are you the type to need breakfast food or you can eat anything in the morning?"

"I'll have what you're having." He proceeds to seat on one of the stools of your counter.

"Okay, we're having a dinner I froze for breakfast."

"Dinner for dinner?" He asks not having forgotten your whole keeping your meal names even with a different schedule thing.

"Exactly, people have breakfast for dinner all the time anyways."

"As long as you don't give me food poisoning, I'm game."

"They don't go bad in the freezer, I have a system."

"What system? You throw them out after getting food poisoning?" He rests his head on one hand looking strangely at ease at your place, like he’s been here multiple times. You decide to focus on getting the food in the microwave.

"I'll have you know I'm very organized when it doesn’t come to my laundry." You grab your phone to connect to your mini label printer, typing out what you wish for a sticker you glue to his scrub pocket where a name tag would sit.

He looks down at the 'Dr. Jack Rabbot Ი𐑼' sticker stuck to his pocket "A label maker? Really?" The first sticker is followed by a second one you glue over his sternum. He lifts the fabric up reading the 'Boobies <3' sticker. "Very mature."

"Thank you." You smile eyeing the food as it continues to thaw. "I glue the date I cook, then into the freezer they go. Then just take one from the freezer and microwave it, I never make more then a week's worth anyways. Foolproof." He doesn’t seem very trusting but whatever, the food is done warming up.

"If I get food poisoning-"

"You're more likely to get food poisoning from the cafeteria than my food, just shut up and eat." You set the glass container in front of him with some grilled chicken, rice and baked green beans. Not that exciting but nutritious enough.

You both eat in silence until Jack stops inhaling the food, gesturing his head towards your sink where you left the blender cup last night.

"Is that the one to blame for that scar on your finger?"

"Nope. That one is in a much better place now, I got a new one that detaches the blades so I can wash it without losing a finger."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

Both done eating at this point you're pretty much ready to shower and crash on your bed, he probably wants to go to his place to do the same. You take both empty containers to the sink, getting in his way when he says he can wash them for you.

"Okay, thank you for dinner. I'm gonna go, need to get some sleep before the sun gets to me."

Still with the vampire thing, of course. "Sure, I'll see you tomorrow."

He left and you went on with your routine until you got to bed alone again.

April 19th, 2025 - PTMC ED

You're standing by the hub talking to Dana before shift change when you catch her frowning at something on the counter as you look around the ED.

"What?"

She taps on your phone case smirking. "Are you sure that's an appropriate sticker to have on your phone where any patient could see?"

Dana turns away to give instructions to a nurse walking by as you grab your phone to check, last you noticed you didn’t have anything on it. But there it is, the stupid 'Boobies <3' sticker. Jack walks by right then making rounds with Robby and you don't hesitate to call him out on it.

"Very mature, Doc."

"Just giving it back to the rightful owner, glad you finally noticed." They continue to walk heading to the rooms in north.

"What?" Dana turns back to you once you remove the sticker throwing it on the trash. "Who glued it there?"

"A certain doctor with a staring problem." You look back at him still talking to Robby and you can hear her scoff.

"You're acting like little kids, it's getting on my nerves."

April 21st, 2025 - Jack's Apartment

Truth is Jack has been mostly napping on his couch these last few days. He tried the bed again but after hours of tossing and turning he gave up resting and went to his living room to read an article or do anything else on his laptop. Eventually getting tired again he laid on the couch to give his back a break from his office chair, he could hear soft rain tapping against the windows and he felt like he doze off for only a few minutes when he heard a knock on the door. That usually means Trouble. Other people would press the doorbell, you're not other people.

There you are standing by his door in what he believes are your actual pajamas consisting of a graphic tee so faded he can’t tell what the original print was and lounge pants, you have socks on but no shoes. Your same hand he sutured up months ago is behind your back and he hopes he doesn’t have to give you stitches as sleep deprived as he is right now.

"Hi?" He decided to start since you didn’t say anything.

"Did I wake you up?

"No, is everything okay?" He tries to spy around you to see your hand but you move with him keeping it out of sight.

"Oh, yeah. That's nothing. Listen do you have some salt to spare?"

"Salt?"

"Yeah. I'm meal prepping and out of all the things I have I forgot to check if I had salt. I'd go buy some but-" He gets a quick look at your hand while you're distracted and you have a small shot glass in you hand with your pointer finger inside.

"It's raining and you burned yourself?"

"Just the rain part." Here we go.

"Let me see your hand." He's not letting you go until he checks.

"It's fine." You insist keeping your hand behind you.

"You're not getting the salt if you don't let me have a look."

"You're so stubborn." You give in none the less. Showing him the finger as you hold the glass with your other hand.

"Yeah, I'm the one who's stubborn."

"I just accidentally barely touched a hot pan, I have it in cold water so it doesn’t aggravate, it's not even half a degree burn."

It seems fine really, just a little red, he'll give you a pass this one time. "It looks okay enough."

"Thank you, Dr. Abbot. I so appreciate your medical input."

"Sure you do. Do you have any burn ointment in your first aid kit?"

"I don't have a first kit." Okay that's it.

He pulls you in by your wrist closing the door after you, both going in to his kitchen this time.

"You're a terrible doctor."

You scoff not actually seeming offended. "Only to myself, thank you very much."

"What do you do when you hurt yourself?"

"If it's something small enough I ignore it until it goes away." You say like it’s routine. "If it's bad enough I go to the hospital, as if you giving me stitches back in January wasn’t the highest point of your career. Wasn’t that so memorable for you?" You rest your hip on the kitchen counter as he rummages around the drawers.

"Oh I remember it, alright." How could he forget? He shoves a small tube of burn ointment into your hands and you pocket it not giving it much thought for now. "Consider that the first item of your first aid kit, Trouble. How much salt do you need?"

"About a spoon full?"

"Just take this." He gives you the entire salt keeper. "You can bring it back later."

He walks you back to the door again and you turn back actually apologetic this time. "Thank you. Sorry for waking you up."

"You didn’t wake me up." You don't need to know you did.

"Yes, I did. I recognize your I just woke up voice." He can see the corner of your smirk as you're about to step out.

"Get out of my house." He grumbles lightly pushing you out.

"Rude!"

"Just go."

A few hours later after another couch nap there's another knock on the door but no one outside this time. A paper take out bag was set on the entry mat with 4 meals in glass containers and the salt keeper on top with a sticky note.

'Refrigerate or freeze these once they’re cooled down. The poison won't work otherwise. (For legal reasons if someone else reads this note this is a joke)

Thanks for the salt. I want the containers back.'

He'll hold them hostage so you have an excuse to come over to get them.

April 23rd, 2025

Somehow you keep feeding Jack without poisoning him so far, he thought he'd extend an olive branch back helping you continue—or full on starting and finishing—your much needed for someone that leaves alone first aid kit. Just some essentials he kept extra and could spare to give you anyways. Some more burn ointment, a small box of gloves, some over the counter medications, bandages, gauze, antiseptic wipes, a small pair of scissors with matching tweezers and a thermometer. Just stuff you could need really. He organized them neatly on the first glass container you left with him with the lasagna and left it by your door after knocking like you usually do. He doesn’t stay to watch you open the door.

April 25th, 2025

It's raining again and you're off today, pretty sure Jack is too. Your suspicion is confirmed by three knocks on your door as you finished folding the laundry you won't put away. It was that or staying in bed wide awake since you couldn’t sleep anyways.

There he stands in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt not much different from the one you just folded.

"Cup of sugar?"

"You don't bake. What are you doing here?" If it was company he wanted you'd gladly give it, but not before making him squirm at least a little bit.

"Always time to try a new hobby. So?"

"Sure Jack, bake me some cookies in a frilly apron."

"I'm sure you would love to see that." He bites back smirking.

"I so would but I'm out of groceries." It's not a lie to either statements.

"Wanna go get some?" Well you already need to anyways.

That's how Jack ended up back in your apartment a few hours later. It's raining still and he spotted the improvised first aid kit on top of your fridge as he helped you put away the groceries you were pissed at him for paying the one second you turned away from the self check out machine. His own fewer grocery bags by your counter as he watched you bake cookies as Miss Congeniality played on your laptop near the sink, you said it was tradition.

Moving to the couch after too much sugar consumed you dozed off before he did the same, waking up to your head on his shoulder and the blank screen of your laptop on the coffee table. He tucks some of your hair away from your face and you don't move at all, still fast asleep. It stopped raining by now and he should really get back to his place and try to get some more sleep himself before shift.

You look so relaxed like this, he can’t lie and say he didn’t feel rested himself, all that from a nap on your couch. It's not the first or second or third time you both end up easily falling asleep together when he usually struggles on his own, he's pretty certain the same goes for you. He could get used to it, your company and warmth, the way he listens to your light breathing instead of the usual police scanner static in his ears. He should really go home.

Deciding not to leave you sleeping on the couch he slowly gets up, sliding an arm under your knees and under your back, you don’t stir as he picks you up walking to the one door he assumed was your room, finding a made bed by a brick wall filled with pillows. The window is closed but your curtains are open letting in the warm light from the street lampposts.

He has a mind to stay but you didn’t outright invite him and he doesn’t want to invade your space further. He puts you down on the bed tucking you in under the covers and you move a little getting comfortable on your side towards the middle of the bed. He closes the curtains leaving you alone, grabs his groceries and locks your door sliding the key back under it once he's done.

April 28th, 2025

It's about half an hour after the night shift ended and you and Jack ended up alone on the park bench after everyone else left to go home. You're a little glossy eyed like you're about to doze off right there. He wants to ask you something but maybe is not the right moment, he asks either way.

"You want to get some dinner?" You smile at him at the way you only do when you're sleepy.

"Breakfast for dinner?"

A Café not far from the hospital is the choice for the morning and you eat quietly as he finishes his coffee.

"You look like you haven't been sleeping much." He starts and you finish chewing ready to get back at him.

"I would say the same about you but I feel like the tired look is part of you by now."

"Thanks, Trouble. Glad you noticed."

"Sure."

"I was actually going to say I slept well enough on your couch the other day." Here it goes.

"You didn’t have to carry me to bed, you know that, right? I don't wanna be responsible for your back giving out." And here you go calling him old again.

"That's not what this is about."

"You could have stayed if you wanted if that's the issue."

"Right. This is what I wanted to talk about."

"What, you want to go home and sleep together again?" You cross your arms resting back on the booth, saying it like it’s the most nonsensical thing in the world.

"Why not? You're gonna tell me you didn’t sleep and get some actual rest the other times? You said it yourself in the on call room." He shrugs crossing his own arms this time.

"Like that's gonna work, Jack."

"It has worked so far, hasn’t it?" He's sure you know he has a point. "We could make a deal."

"A deal." You laugh into your hands. "Are you actually serious?"

"It's a give and take situation." He shrugs again, trying to make you see what he's proposing here.

"Yeah, I give and you take." You say disbelieving. "It would never work."

"Why not? We're already neighbors, worse that could happen is someone disagrees on it one day and goes home to the other floor. You know I'm right and I'm tired of being sleep deprived at work when we could try and make this work. It's less of a risk not only for ourselves but to our patients." He finally finishes talking, watching as you seem to finally think it over. He could also get used to having you in his bed and in his clothes ready to sleep the day away but that's not relevant to the current conversation.

"If that works, and I don’t say 'if' lightly. Hypothetically, what would that look like?" You're acting like this is a business pitch and he's a bad investment. Damn, Trouble, give me a chance here.

"Well." He thinks for a second, not exactly getting to logistics by himself beforehand. "I guess we go home after work, either to my place or yours and just sleep. Nothing else has to change." That simple. Right.

You had to realize it yourself you wanted it too so you wouldn't fight him on it. He tips up his chin at you as you continue to think until you seem to relent.

"Fine, I guess we could try it. But if we're doing this we need some lines in the sand here."

"You want me to draft a contract?" He asks jokingly and you pass him a clean paper napkin with the Café's logo on the corner.

"Sure, I just need your signature there." He marks two 'X's' signing his name next to one, leaving some space so you can sign too and passes you the napkin back with his pen, you hold on to them for now.

"You want rules, we can have rules." He already knows what his first request will be anyways, so he'll let you start.

"Rule one: No one else can know. I don't want things to get weird and more gossip to be made." He's pretty sure there's a bet or two going around already but you don't need to know that right now.

"Done. Rule two: You will accept my rides from now on." He simply states already knowing you won't agree at first.

"Jack!" Here we go.

"If we're off on a different schedule, fine. You can take the bus if you want but the usual shifts you're going to work and coming home with me, there’s no need to take the bus if I can drive you."

"Fine." You reluctantly agree. "Rule three: This is strictly platonic. No funny business, we're actually just sleeping."

"Wasn’t planning otherwise, sweetheart." He smirks at you and you roll your eyes at him like usual.

"Good." You still haven't signed the damn napkin but this is actually going better than what he expected which was basically you saying no and moving back to the day shift to avoid him.

"Rule four: We're going to be honest if we need a break, no questions asked. The other person will respect it." He doubts he might need one but maybe you'll get tired of him so he'll give you an out.

"I can work with that." You agree again. "Rule five: Things remain the same at work. You're still my boss, if anything it's fine to say we're neighbors cause people will see us arriving together but that's the end of it for them."

"That's fine. Okay, we've got ourselves a deal?"

"I guess we do. What could go wrong?" You sign your name on the napkin sliding it back to him along with the pen.

"Famous last words, Trouble."

Next

The door opens behind him, and Ilya doesn't turn around. Shane sets up his own chair upwind of Ilya, tucks one leg under him in a way that barely looks comfortable given the size of the chair, and balances his Bible and journal on his lap.

They don't usually talk much right away. Ilya smokes, one or maybe two cigarettes, and listens—to the birds and the wind and the gentle sound of the thin pages of Shane's Bible rustling, the thicker ones of his journal, the scratch of his pencil against the page. And the muttering.

Always the muttering.

Shane's devotions this year are different than last. Maybe some nut professor at his Bible college insists that all scripture must be read aloud to be truly understood (Ilya's heard dumber in all his years here and at church) because Shane now whispers the words to himself, too softly for Ilya to make them out.

Sometimes Ilya finds this endearing, sometimes it annoys him. Today it's both.

"What are you reading?" Ilya asks, and Shane startles, not used to Ilya making conversation so early. Usually he waits until Shane's closed the journal.

"My Bible?"

Ilya rolls his eyes. "I know that. What part?"

"Do you really want to know?" Shane asks, incredulous, which Ilya supposes is somewhat fair—he tends to tune Shane out if he gets too preachy.

"Yes," Ilya says now, decisively, taking one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out. In a show of good will, he doesn't flick the butt onto the ground. "You write in your journal a lot these days. I am curious."

Shane takes the opening, scoots his lawn chair towards Ilya's. "Galatians. That's what I'm reading. I've been working on memorizing."

"Memorizing what?"

"Galatians."

"All of it?" Ilya's eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

Shane shrugs, red spreading on his cheeks. "I don't know."

He shows Ilya the journal now, pages filled with Shane's scrawl and it takes Ilya a minute to realize that he's just been writing out Galatians. Verse by verse, copying it into his journal.

"Uh, I copy each section a couple times, then I try writing without looking and see what I miss."

"Does it work?"

"I've probably forgotten a lot, but I'm halfway through chapter 5 now, so almost done." Shane smiles, a little bashful, but pleased with himself. He's probably imagining telling his youth pastor or that nut professor about doing this. They'd tell him it was a wonderful idea. Maybe his mother would pinch his cheeks.

Ilya snatches both the Bible and journal from Shane's lap. He ignores Shane's squawk of protest.

"Okay, I test you." He holds up the Bible so Shane can't read it, runs his eyes over Galatians 5. "Where do you start?"

"What?"

"What section are you practicing? I'll listen to you and see if you earn a candy." Ilya grins. Thinks of when Shane was a camper, his hoard of candy from memorizing verses.

"I don't know what—"

"I am very good at listening to verses." Ilya interrupts. And he does have experience. The campers recite verses for points for their teams, memorizing as fast as possible then running to wait in line to tell a counselor. Ilya likes to listen to them, and he's not so harsh about every word being right so he gets the longest line.

Shane stares at him for a minute longer, like he's trying to gauge if Ilya's serious or not. He relents eventually, and Ilya feels like he's won as Shane settles back into his lawn chair. "Fine. I'll... I'm starting at verse sixteen. 'But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit...'"

Ilya listens carefully, tries to ignore the meaning of the words in favor of the rhythm, but the memory of Shane's flesh is too recent. Just last night, he'd pressed into Shane, both of them too big for the bottom bunk, too loud for the dorm room, even with the whole thing empty for the weekend. Shane had gasped into his mouth, spread his legs wider for his cock. Ilya knew the desires of Shane's flesh.

They fell asleep together. But Ilya still woke up alone.

Shane fumbles a little, needing a few prompts of Ilya, but he knows it well and makes it nearly to the end of the chapter before stalling out after verse twenty-four.

"'And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires,'" Shane says, rote, then groans, looking upward. "Ugh, something about living with the Spirit, I always get confused on the last two verses because they're kinda seperated. 'Let us also step with the Spirit' something 'do not be conceited'?"

"Close," Ilya says, then reads the last two verses.

Shane repeats them back. Perfect now.

"You're very good at this."

"I'll forget half of it by tomorrow."

You'll forget a lot by tomorrow, Ilya doesn't say. "Most of the kids memorize the verses while waiting in line then forget them as soon as candy hits their tongue."

"Maybe that's what you did."

Ilya sticks his own tongue out, and Shane laughs. Sometimes this is nice too, even if they're pretending.

"Why Galatians?" Ilya asks.

"It's not too long, but long enough to be a challenge. Plus," Shane shrugs. "Good reminders in there. I like Paul's letters."

Ilya's suddenly itching for another cigarette. He doesn't take one.

"You missed a word in verse twenty-one," Ilya says flatly. "'Envy, drunkness, orgies, and other things.' You forgot orgies."

Shane scoffs, still playful despite Ilya's harshness. He's never been the best at reading that. "My bad. It's a long list."

"And you forgot sexual immorality in verse nineteen," Ilya lies.

"No I didn't." Shane's nose scrunches at the suggestion. "I definitely said that. 'Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, sensuality, impur—'"

"No, other way around. Impurity before sensuality. But you did forget sexual immorality the first time."

Shane shakes his head. "I didn't. I wouldn't forget that."

Like Ilya doesn't know that.

"Need to memorize the whole list so you can remember what not to do." Ilya's tone is all wrong, and he feels, stupidly, like he might cry. "Wouldn't want to accidentally schedule an orgy for Tuesday."

"Fuck you," Shane spits, then looks nearly as surprised as Ilya feels. "I mean— stop it. Give me my stuff back if you're just going to be a jerk."

Shocked enough by the swear, Ilya hands him the journal and the Bible back. He doesn't apologize, stalks away to lean against the railing, and pulls out another cigarette.

He doesn't turn around, but he hears Shane writing. He wonders if it's still Galatians or if now he's praying. Praying to God that he'll stop liking cock. As if the ten-thousandth time would be the charm, and his wet dreams tonight will be full of pussy.

When the cigarette's done, Ilya turns back around. Swallows down the lump in his throat. "You still want to go to the lake today?"

Shane looks up from his journal. His eyes look glassy, but Ilya wouldn't dare mention it. He gives Ilya a half smile, apology and forgiveness rolled in one. "Yeah. I do."

———

more camp au

would appreciate a reblog if you liked this :)

What he never expected, was his neighbor across the hall to be the reason his heart stuttered like a faulty engine: you. The one who first welcomed him to the apartment with a large container of freshly baked cookies.

Had he burned his tongue on them because he was too eager? Yes. Yes he had.

And if there were a few tucked away in his freezer for nights when the past grew heavy—well, that was his little secret.

Sam and Joaquin encouraged him to say something—maybe even ask you to coffee—but fear always clamped the words in his throat. Whatever charm he once possessed was now long gone.

You were the stars lighting up the night sky, with a radiant smile that made his knees weak. And he…he was a man carrying enough baggage to fill an airport, with blood on his hands that would never truly wash away.

And yet, whenever he passed you in the hall—coconut and vanilla perfume clouding his thoughts—he couldn’t help but smile. Though, most times, it probably looked more like a grimace.

Let’s not even mention the times he had tried to speak, only to stand there with his mouth open like a fish gasping for air.

The only consolation? You were as quiet as he was. In fact, if this was a competition, you were winning by a long shot.

Which wasn’t surprising. People weren’t exactly lining up to chat with the Winter Soldier.

Still, it never failed to catch him off guard when he opened his door and found another container of baked goods that could’ve put him in a coma if he didn’t pace himself. Maybe this was the plan all along—take out the ex-assassin through excessive amounts of sugar.

There was just one teeny problem.

Okay…maaaaybe a big problem.

You were taken. By a man who didn’t deserve you in the slightest. Not that Bucky thought he did either…

But that’s beside the point.

The real gripe? That limp noodle of a boyfriend did not worship you enough. And the thin apartment walls only proved that.

Bucky never meant to eavesdrop. Enhanced hearing had its downsides…or upsides. Depending on the occasion.

For this? It was a massive downside. Because every time he tried to ignore your bed squeaking, or your boyfriends constant self-praises—as if he was God’s gift to women—he just couldn’t.

Not that it was to indulge his own fantasies. Because how could Bucky indulge in your silence? Despite your incompetent boyfriend believing he was bringing you to the highest levels of ecstasy, you never made a sound.

Not a moan. Or a whimper of a name. Nothing.

Sure, Bucky was a bit rusty in that department—decades rusty—but one thing was absolutely certain: he would worship you on his knees until he drew the most beautiful sounds from your lips.

When fall arrived, the brisk breeze carried the scent of spiced treats from neighborhood cafes. A carpet of orange-hued leaves covered the sidewalks. Pumpkins were carried like priceless treasures. Families gathered for home-cooked meals and lively conversation. The city hummed with life and excitement for the approaching holidays.

That is, until this particular day. Rain cascaded in sheets, deep puddles splashed beneath passing cars, and gray clouds blotted out the setting sun.

Not that the weather affected any of his plans—which included another night in staring into oblivion and maybe finishing off the leftover pizza in his fridge. The furthest he went from his apartment was to check the mail in the lobby. The hum of the old chandelier bulbs filled the silence and rows of bronze recessed boxes lined the wall.

His was empty. As usual.

Just as he shut the box, sliding out the key, the front door’s hinges creaked against the sharp gusts of wind. In a blur of rain and swept leaves, you stumbled in—clothes drenched, hair plastered to your face, shoes squishing with every step.

For just a moment, his eyes met yours. Then, of course, he looked away too quickly, clearing his throat and pretending to study a flier attached to the community board. The two for twenty-five special at Happy Tacos had apparently captured his full attention.

God. Food is so expensive nowadays, he thought.

Not that the paper actually held his focus—not when you stepped up beside him, puddles forming around your shoes, your perfume mingling with the scent of rain. Somehow, that made it even more intoxicating.

Just as he opened his mouth to—maybe say something, maybe choke on air, the world will never know—you shut your box with a loud clang.

Unfortunately, the boxes had a bit of a sticking issue.

Which is why now, you were yanking against the key, fingers slipping every time you tried to get a better grip. Even with a small huff, the metal refused to budge.

“I…uh…” His voice cracked—wonderful. “I can help with that,” he finally managed, extending a hand slowly, as though he was in the presence of a skittish deer.

Of course, you looked at him like he had lobsters coming out of his ears. Not the wildest look he’d gotten. But then—that radiant smile spread across your face. Even drenched to the bone, you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

With a nod, you stepped aside to give him room. As expected, he managed to pull the key free almost instantly. Your soft breathy laugh nearly short-circuited his brain. And as he handed back the key, the brush of your fingers had his heart pounding like drums.

Then your lips parted and, for a split second, Bucky was certain he’d finally hear your voice. But all that followed was silence, caught on a shaky breath. The building might as well have crashed down on him the moment your smile faltered.

In the blink of an eye, you had turned on your heel and bolted for the stairs. By the time he regained his bearings, you were gone.

The lobby shrank to a suffocating silence. His hands fell to his sides, eyes still glued to bottom of the staircase—like if he held his breath for just long enough, you might reappear.

But you never did.

The day couldn’t possibly get worse.

It was supposed to be a normal day. That is, until fate decided to intervene and provide an obstacle at every corner. Everything had gone wrong.

By the time morning arrived, sleep had eluded you like a ghost. A shower didn’t help—not when the water went from perfectly warm to icy halfway through. When you dressed—a comfy cardigan included—things seemed to be looking up. Until your favorite coffee cup hit the floor. So did the precious caffeine you desperately needed.

Work was the usual. Snap a few pictures for the local paper, bask in the beauty of the city—maybe snag an empanada and takeout coffee along the way.

Then came the rain. Before you could blink—or realize you had forgotten an umbrella—you were drenched. Cardigan sopping. Pants soaked. Shoes waterlogged.

The apartment lobby wasn’t spared the storm. Not when you swept in, leaving puddles on the polished floor. Of course, after a shitstorm of a day, your mailbox key declared war.

Time slowed the moment your neighbor so sweetly offered to help in a deep rasp that made your pulse spike. But it had to be a hallucination. This was the first time he’d spoken to you since he moved in four months ago.

Then again, you hadn’t spoken to him either.

That’s when you knew—the day could, in fact, get worse.

The brush of his fingers as the key slid into her palm made your skin tingle. Your lips parted to thank him—but all that slipped free was a pathetic strangled sound.

Of course. Of course your first real interaction with him was at the worst possible time.

So, here you were, pacing your living room until you were dizzy, cursing yourself for bolting like a startled deer. But he wouldn’t understand. No one did.

Eventually, you pressed your face into a pillow and let out a muffled, guttural scream. Not that it was loud enough to sound like one.

Hours had passed. Another shower didn’t help. Braiding your damp hair didn’t help. Nothing soothed the gnawing guilt.

Slipping into soft pajamas and a pair of bunched up socks, you were the epitome of comfort on a fall night.

And yet, comfort was nowhere in reach.

As darkness draped the sky rain continued to stream against the window, blurring the city lights, muffling the hum of traffic. Tucked into the sill, knees bent to your chest, head tilted against the frame, you desperately tried to lose yourself in a book.

Why did it bother you so much? Your neighbor hadn’t spoken to you once. While you always offered a kind smile in the hall, he always seemed to recoil at the sight and quickly look away.

But something…something about the way he offered to help, rescuing your key with ease, kept replaying in your mind. It was such a small gesture, but for the first time today, he was a sliver of sunshine breaking through the storm.

Determined to make things right, the book was shut and abandoned on the coffee table.

An hour later, the scent of vanilla and chocolate hung thick in the air, spatters of flour dusted your pajamas, and Nat King Cole hummed through the radio.

Package in hand, you quietly opened your door and crossed the hall. Once everything was neatly arranged on his doormat, you knocked twice and hightailed it back into your apartment.

Door shut, breath held, you rose to the tips of your toes to peer through the peephole.

To say Bucky spiraled…would be an understatement. The moment he finally peeled himself away from the lobby, trudged up the stairs and locked himself in his apartment—he broke.

…

Broke a few things that is.

The first one wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t hit fault that freezer handles were so damn flimsy.

The second was. Your precious cookies—the ones he’d saved—crumbled in his grasp. His hands trembled as he squeezed the plastic-wrapped treats until they were nothing but crumbs scattered on the kitchen floor.

He should’ve known better. No one would ever look at him and see a normal man. Because he wasn’t. Even with the cybernetic weapon hidden, he was still the Winter Soldier.

And he should've known better than to expect you to see him as anything else.

But as soon as the red blurring his eyes faded, the cookie crumbs stared back at him mockingly. A shuddering breath left his chest. Knees meeting the hardwood, he gathered the broken pieces, holding them like they were the only lifeline tethering him to reality. To an ounce of kindness he didn’t deserve.

When he finally swept the crumbs into the bin, cursing himself for acting so irrational, he collapsed onto the couch, burying his face into the pillow.

Knock. Knock.

The sound reverberated through his mind like gunfire. At this hour, no one ever had good intentions. Head lifting, his hand slid between the couch cushions, curling around one of the many guns he kept hidden around the apartment.

Quietly, he crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

His brows rose.

The deadbolt gave way with a click. The chain clattered. Then the other deadbolt released. And finally, after the crossbar was lifted away —so maybe he’s a little paranoid—he eased the door open a crack.

Whatever air was once in his lungs was ripped away in an instant. On the welcome mat—not that he welcomed anyone—sat a container wrapped with a neatly tied lavender bow and a heart-shaped post-it stuck to the lid.

For a moment, he eyed the gift like it might bite him. Because he already knew who it was from.

When he finally gathered the precious delivery, his gaze lingered on your door. It was the only barrier keeping him from doing something irrational.

Like dropping to his knees with thanks.

As soon as his door was shut, all restraint was out the window. The ribbon fell away, lid popped open, the smell of your freshly baked cookies making him dizzy.

Halfway through the third cookie, he finally remembered the note. Crumb-covered fingers peeled it off the lid—your neat penmanship staring back at him:

I’m sorry about earlier. After you helped me with my mailbox, I wanted to say thank you, but then no words came out and I panicked. Before I blinked I was already back in my apartment, and I’m just really sorry I ran away like that. I have selective mutism and, unfortunately, I let the embarrassment get to my head. Please accept another batch of cookies as an apology, but I totally understand if you hate me. Anyway, thank you for helping me.

He might have reread the note five times. He might have stared at your neat signature at the bottom for far too long. Such a beautiful name, he thought. He definitely whipped out his cell phone and immediately texted the group chat.

Bucky: I messed up Bucky: She dropped off more cookies

Sam: I told you she wasn’t scared of you!

Joaquin: Is this the cute neighbor? Joaquin: Dude. She totally likes you

Sam: She has a boyfriend

Joaquin: And?

Sam: That’s a big ‘and’

Joaquin: Like Bucky couldn’t take the guy in the sweater vests.

Bucky: Would you two stop it. She doesn’t like me. She’s just nice.

Sam: Mhm. Sure man.

The phone continued to buzz against the coffee table, but Bucky was a man on a mission. Ripping off the top of a pizza box, he scribbled down his own note. Though somehow he managed to get more ink on his hands than the cardboard.

With a grumble, he tore off another piece and managed to get something down that sounded…decent.

Quietly opening his door, he crept across the hall and leaned the grease stained piece against your doorframe.

This is stupid, he thought.

But before he could go back on his plan, Mrs. Kowalski’s familiar humming drifted from the stairwell. With a quick knock—and all the grace of a startled deer—he hurried back into his apartment.

By the time the clock blinked 12:00 a.m., you were positive your neighbor hated you.

Buried under a mountain of blankets, arms thrown over your face, you knew this night was going to be a long one. Every time you closed your eyes, it was just a replay of how embarrassingly the whole situation had gone. The way his steel-blue eyes were so soft, so gentle.

It really shouldn’t bother you. Not like this. How your neighbor felt about you should not have been on the forefront on your mind. After all, you were in a—

An absolutely mundane relationship.

Not that you had a choice.

Knock. Knock.

The sound shattered your daze. Eyes wide, the room tilted from how quickly you snapped upright. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you were already at the door before thought could catch up, peering through the peephole.

Your brows rose.

The deadbolt gave way with a click, door creaking as you eased it open, catching the flimsy piece of cardboard before it fluttered to the floor.

Door shut, your eyes instantly locked on the shaky handwriting staring back at you:

You have nothing to apologize for. I understand words being a bitch pain. But, I won’t lie, getting more cookies out of this was a plus. You must have some kind of magic, because they are so addicting. If you ever need help with your mailbox again, just holler knock on my door, or send a pigeon. Whichever works.

P.S. Your smile says more than words ever could.

— Bucky.

Lip caught between your teeth, heat flushed your cheeks, a small giggle slipping free. Despite it being a grease-stained piece of cardboard, you pressed it to your chest and collapsed onto the bed, smiling so wide your cheeks ached.

Who knew such a shitty day could end so well?

And if Bucky managed to hear your heart-stopping giggle through the wall—well, that was his little secret.

thank you for reading. please like, comment, reblog (all three if you're feeling spicy) i appreciate it all. for more information about selective mutism. if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment below 🧡

“The food festival that I wanted to go to.” She groaned, zipping up her last weapon case before slamming back down onto the bed of the hotel. They weren’t allowed to go home during the mission since they could end up getting followed, so they were put in a hotel. “Nero said he’ll call us in thirty minutes to discuss the gameplan with Jenna for tonight. I think he’s on the same page as you regarding them hiding as food vendors…but he has some sort of protocore detector to easily scan the area.”  She pointed at a box with the Hunter’s symbol by the door. “We’re most likely going to be right in the center.”

“I thought we were staking out the warehouse? Rendezvous point?” You looked at her confused, plopping down beside her on the bed. 

“We will…the festival is a two-day event. Andrew said that they’re transporting to the warehouse today. And then they leave Linkon, tomorrow. Hopefully we intercept them tonight, if not, we can at least pinpoint WHICH warehouse they’re going to be at.” She groaned, checking her watch for any alerts.

You stood back up and looked at her, pointing at your outfit. “We’re supposed to be undercover then…”

She instantly sat up, “Shit.”

The two of you instantly changed out of your Hunter’s uniform to something casual, yet something that could conceal the weapons you two had. “Why did you pack dresses?” You asked Simone. You had nothing packed that could’ve hid anything so you had to resort to one of Simone’s things.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I thought I’d celebrate after. By the way…I’ve been meaning to ask you where you got those guns. I’ve seen you in combat, and I know that isn’t mine or the Hunter’s work. They’re impressive.”

You pulled one out of the holster from your thigh, examining it with a small smile on your face. “Cool, huh?” You twirled it by the loop on your finger, a move you’ve seen the gifter do a lot to show off. “I know a guy.” Sylus.

Simone rolled her eyes. “Alright, keep your secrets. At least ask them for some blueprints or something for me next time.”

You checked your phone for anything regarding him, but he was practically AWOL. Which happened a lot. You never used to really care when he would disappear randomly, you knew he was a busy man with a lot of people to deal with. Except before, you hadn’t slept with him yet. Now you’re restless and worried. You knew he wasn’t the type to just hit it and quit it, but you knew that his line of work was as worrying as yours, if not worse. And despite knowing that, you still didn’t know what the two of you were. The moment the two of you finally collided, the world seemed to have begun the steps towards Doomsday; wanderers popped out of nowhere, corrupt corporations wanted to take control, and there was no time for the two of you to spend time with each other to sort things out. You let out an exasperated sigh, one that Simone brushed off as dread for the mission. 

The rundown was what Simone and you had already talked about. The two of you were going to go undercover at the food festival to seek out any suspicious stalls. Simone’s wish of attending the event was fulfilled only partially since the two of them were on high alert and too nervous to stomach anything. The mission itself seemed straightforward, but the moment the two of you had arrived at the venue, you were already overwhelmed.

Bright lights covered downtown, and so did hundreds of people. Large food stalls and multiple kids were running around. It was as if everyone from the city decided to come out. You cursed at the perfect timing of the black market dealers. “Should we split up? Buy something from a stall, it would look suspicious if we’re walking around without eating anything…just nibble” You told Simone who nodded before heading the opposite direction. You checked your watch discreetly to make sure you had her location. 

You walked through the streets, purchasing a small drink from a random stall that you deemed normal, and scanned the area for anything. The scanner they had provided was hidden to look like a smartphone, making it look like you were just taking pictures of the scenery. Despite the handy device, it felt almost hopeless. There were countless stalls with a lot of boxes and crates that could have contained anything. If the smugglers were smart, they would have found a way to block any signals to penetrate their boxes.

As you looked around, distressed, a familiar red glint came from a tree. As if someone or something was watching you. It would have been suspicious, except the red light came from a little black bird.

Mephisto.

Your eyebrows furrowed with confusion as you wondered why he would be there. And you couldn’t help but wonder if Sylus was nearby as well. You looked around, his tall stature and silver hair would have been hard to miss even with the crowd but nothing. You sighed and then went back to scanning the area for your mission until there was a crackle in your ear piece and a familiar voice came through.

“You must be tired, sweetie. You’re not your usual sharp self.” Sylus’s deep voice cut through the static. “There’s two pomegranate stalls on your left, and one of them says ‘sold out’ even when there’s still large crates on the floor.” 

“S-Sy…” You wanted to be upset but your eyes found what he was talking about. The only issue was that the boxes had a familiar branding that just looked slightly off. “Are they copying your fruit logo?”

There was a hearty laugh on the other end of the line. “Fools were trying to copy my brand, not even knowing the true owner. I’ve heard word around the N109 zone that there’s new technology to combat the Hunters frequencies…but I had Mephisto drill through a side of the box. You should check for moles at your workplace.”

You sat down on a bench that sat near the stall you were eyeing and pretended to text on the scanner, getting a good shot of the boxes. The hole was large enough to get an energy reading off the rare protocores stored inside. You decided to worry about a mole later on once you debriefed the situation with Jenna. Although, you know Simone would get the message once she saw the lining of the boxes. 

“Good luck, kitten. We’ll see each other soon. I’ll let you alert your friends now.” Sylus said. 

And before you could argue or thank him, something you always felt conflicted with, the line went dead before the familiar buzz came back. “Simone, I got it.”

Subduing the people who were watching the stall was no easy feat to do in a crowded place. Luckily Simone ‘s technology included an easy way to knock them out. The two of you simply pretended to have questions about the farm they supposedly got their fruits from and she was able to shoot out her weapon quickly without anyone noticing. You sent out a signal to the other Hunters that were placed on the skirts of downtown that two of you had located and secured the protocores. 

“Nice catch, partner.” Simone said as she bent down to look at the boxes. “You’re lucky there was a break in this container…it looks like we wouldn’t have been able to scan this at all with this…” She took a sample of the material that covered the inside for Nero to examine later on. 

All of a sudden there was a guy who loudly cursed, making you turn to look at him. His face was on the bulletin board of wanted Tenebraes at the association, something you often looked at when you spaced out at your desk. “Stay here and wait for the other units.” You quickly said to Simone who wanted to protest before you started running towards him. 

The two of you zigzagged through the crowd, whilst he was pushing people down, you managed to swiftly avoid anyone. You radioed in that you were in pursuit of a runner, but you knew that you were the only one in the area since everyone had already headed the opposite direction. The of you made it out of the main event area and was just running through the streets of Linkon and he dashed into an alleyway.

He was cornered and you were at a perfect shot. You grabbed one of your guns from your thigh holster and aimed at him. “Stand down!” You yelled, holding your gun steadily. You hoped to god that you didn’t have to use the gun, because Hunter weapons can’t actually harm humans and you just weren’t sure if Sylus’s followed the same rules. While your gun was still aimed at him, you pinged your location to other Hunters.

“Back away from him, he might be dangerous.” You heard Jenne speak to you through the ear piece. “Simone is on her way with the d-” You couldn’t make clear what she said because the one glance away caused you to lose sight of him taking out a device to shoot at you. A sharp pain ran up your left thigh and you stumbled slightly. Before he could run off, your quick thinking made you shoot at a wall mounted sign just enough to fall on top of the Tenebra, making him fall to the ground with a grunt. 

You put pressure on your thigh, thinking you’ve been grazed and when you brought your palm back up, there was certainly blood. “Shit…” Simone and another Hunter came a few moments after, prepared to ambush until they found the scene.

-

“You did good…” Simone said to you as you sat on the closed toilet, keeping pressure on your wound. “We could have gotten you to a medic at the Association, you know. Or a hospital?” 

You shook your head. “They’d end up putting me off this case…” You cursed at yourself for your lack of attentiveness, sighing.

“The case is done, we got the-” Simone tried to answer before you intervened again, shaking your head.

“That guy we caught…he’s still working with someone. And I honestly don’t think we have all the protocores. I think there’s a mole…We just acquired those protocore detectors and were the first ones to use them. How do they already have something to combat it?” You hissed as you cleaned up your wound, finding a small cut. You pressed at the side of your thigh and felt something hard. “Simone! I’m too squeamish…I need you to pick something out.”

She came to your aid with tweezers and instantly knelt down at your thigh, huffing. “I told you…medics would have had some numbing cream or something. You owe me a new dress, by the way. As for the mole, I was thinking the same thing. We’ll definitely figure it out.”

You looked away before she dug in with her tweezers. A few agonizing seconds passed by before you felt relief and heard a curse. 

“We should have definitely gone to the Association…” You looked back and saw a small chip. “Think this a dud or a tracking device?” She placed it on the bathroom counter before smashing it with the bottle of hand soap. “They might have already looked at our location, we’ve been in here long enough. Let’s get packing after you clean it up.”

You sheepishly apologized as you cleaned up your wound. Luckily for you, it felt more like a small cut than a bullet wound. All you had to do was clean it again and wrap it up. The two of you packed your things and headed out, looking around to be cautious. Simone decided to go back to the Association while you found another place to stay at. You begged to go with her, but she eventually reminded you that you were the one working for two weeks straight. 

“I will follow your suspicions, and I will 100% let you know about continuing the stakeout tomorrow. You might have trouble finding another hotel, though. You got this?” She patted your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be well rested for tomorrow.” You reassured her as she got into the cab. You grabbed one for yourself and headed out to Sylus’s Linkon safe house. The food festival filled up every other hotel in the city, so you decided to finally accept his invitation to use his belongings. He had a safe house in every city, this was just the first time you would have to stay the night. The moment you arrived at the door, Mephisto landed on the mailbox. You ruffled one of his feathers with your index finger. “Are you gonna tell your dad that I’m here?” You rolled your eyes before punching in the code to the door.

The moment you walked in, you saw Sylus down the hall in the kitchen. “He doesn’t have to tell me, sweetie.” He was in his usual workout fit, except instead of shorts, he had gray sweats on. He wasn’t wearing his hand wraps so he ended up just looking like he was lounging. And you would have been lying if you said you didn’t find it sexy. Sylus walked over to you and grabbed your bag. “I’ll take you to your room.” He smirked before turning to walk. 

“Wait, what are you doing here? In Linkon? And why didn’t you say anything?” A bit of anger rose up your throat as the realization sat in that he hadn’t said much. Especially about the two of you. The walk down the hallway reminded you of your night together, a small flash back of him carrying you into the bedroom at the other house made you shiver. 

He walked you into one of the guest rooms, which was surprisingly decorated cozily. “Where’s my ‘thank you’ for earlier? You would have been at that festival all night without me…maybe.” Despite being faced away from you, you could hear the smirk in his words.

“Th-thank you.” You said, letting out a small grumble. The two of you stood at the doorway of the room, close to each other. You could smell him and feel his warmth. “Are you gonna answer any of the questions?” You asked, facing him, leaning against the door frame.

He plopped your bag down on the floor before facing you, mirroring your actions. “Why? Did you miss me?” He put his hand above your head, leaning down towards you. His head cocked with a smug look. “If you missed me so, you should have said something in your multiple messages, kitten.” 

Your face tilted upwards at him, by instinct. It felt like a magnet to you, like your lips should be connected. “You didn’t say it either. You didn’t say much of anything, actually. Should I take that as you not missing me?” You cocked your eyebrow at him, pushing him.

Before the two of you got any closer, Sylus turned his face, laughing. He stood back straight and crossed his arms, looking back at you. “I made dinner. Just enough for two. Care to join me?” He walked off without giving you a chance to respond. He paused in the hallway, turning back to look at you. “And I know I said you look beautiful in red, but I didn’t mean to get covered in your blood, kitten.” He let out a mocking scoff with a smile before walking to the kitchen again.

You huffed, frustrated in more ways than one. You looked down to find the dress that Simone had you wear was stained at the hem where your thigh was hit. You decided to just take a shower altogether. A long shower. Even if you were annoyed at Sylus, there was a need for him that was gnawing at you. You unwrapped your bandage and saw that the cut had dried slightly. With a light press, it still hurt, but it wasn’t anywhere near a bullet or stab wound. 

The bathroom to the guest bedroom was fully stocked. Skincare from the place you shopped at, shampoo and conditioner that you always used, and even the hand soap from his house that you always complimented. You wanted to stay annoyed at him, but the small details he paid attention to made your stomach fill with butterflies. “Ass…” You muttered under your breath with a small smile growing. 

You stepped into the steaming hot shower, the practically boiling water soothed the muscles that you started noticing was aching after weeks of work. As you washed yourself, the hands that touched your body reminded you of how he held you all those weeks ago. Each tender caress of his calloused fingers, each trace of your curves…you were starving for more. Your hands moved down in between your folds and cursed at how you weren’t wet from the water, but your body was ready to take him again. You just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction after being so aloof for the past few days. 

After your shower, you wrapped up your wound again, since it opened up slightly from the hot water, and then got dressed again. Short pajama shorts and a gray cropped tank top. You ditched the bra since you knew that he’s already seen it all before and you weren’t one to sleep with one on.

You walked out with a small hair towel around your neck and saw Sylus on the phone at the kitchen island. His eyes met yours and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. “Update me later.” He said into the phone before hanging up. “You don’t have work tomorrow, by the way. Your friend should be messaging you in a few minutes once the news reaches them.” He said before turning to the fridge to grab you a glass of water. 

As you sat on the stool at the breakfast bar, your fingers tapped at the marble countertop. You cocked your head at him, urging for more information. 

Sylus sighed, as if you doubted him. He walked towards you with the water, placing it in front of you and then circled around the counter next to you. He turned your stool over so you could face him, slipping in between your legs.

Close, too close.

His hands roamed up your wounded thigh, his thumb grazing atop the cut. “You don’t think I’d let them stick a tracker onto you and let them actually follow you, did you?” His touches were soft and not enough. “Luke and Kieran found his partner and handled the rest. I know our Hunter here is a bit of a workaholic…but this was my business too. They had something I wanted.” His other hand came up to the side of your face, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear, his knuckles caressing your cheeks. As you pulled closer into his face, he was already gone, circling back around the counter to grab your dinner. “They took something of mine…not any of your Association’s protocores, so don’t worry. Not to mention, they tried to hide behind my property. Surely, you understand my motives.” He moved your water and placed a plate of food in front of you. Always something hearty and plated expensively. 

“I guess…how did you know that I-” You were about to ask about the tracker, but you heard a squawk from another room. “Ahh…I should’ve known Mephie was still keeping watch.” You sighed, grabbing a fork. “Are the two okay?” You took a bite of the food, the hunger finally hitting you as the first bite took its course. 

Sylus ate with you, standing in front of you, eating on the kitchen counter whilst you were on the bar. “They’re heading back to the base now. I think they had fun. I didn’t mention they harmed you, though. They’ve been rather worried about you during our time apart, I’m afraid they’d go a bit haywire if they found out what happened.” 

“It wasn’t even bad…” You mumbled, taking another bite. Each time you looked up at him, he was already looking at you. You couldn’t help the blush from spreading across your face, but you didn’t bother to cover it up either. You were rather engrossed with the food he made for you. “You should see the other guy,” you straightened yourself up, beaming at him.

Sylus let out a booming laugh, “I did, sweetie. It was a very smart move.” He tapped on his temple with his index finger. “As expected for our darling Hunter.”

“So…are you gonna tell me why you didn’t contact said ‘darling Hunter’?” You pouted as your fork hit the plate a bit louder than before, practically stabbing your food. You hand clenched around the silverware. Despite being as busy as you were, every free moment had been used to check your phone for any sign of him. He had short responses, or he would disappear mid response.

“You still haven’t said you missed me.” He responded, looking down at his food but his eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes. A red glint that was similar to Mephisto’s shone at you.

“And you still avoid my questions.” You dropped your fork onto your plate, crossing your arms together.

“You never acted this bratty during my absences before,” he smirked at you, mirroring your image. “Were you thinking about our last meeting?” He walked around the counter again to stand behind you, holding your posture still by the shoulders so you couldn’t face him. “You must have been too busy with this mission, you hadn’t noticed the few explosions on the outskirts of town. Unfortunately, it’s been hell. I’ve been preoccupied.” His hand wrapped around your throat from behind, not with a choking intent, but a softer, teasing caress. His fingers trailed up your neck, pushing your chin up to meet his eyes. “How would you like me to apologize?” His face leaned down and you could feel his warm breath on your face. “Shall we continue where we left off?”

Your heart and heat were screaming ‘yes’ multiple times. Yet your mind wanted payback. As he leaned closer to your face, as if he was about to press a kiss on your nose, you grabbed the hand on your neck and pulled it down, moving your head down with it. “A simple sorry is all I need.” You pretended to ignore how warm he felt behind you, and how his cock was pressed up against you. You picked up your fork again, moving the vegetables on your plate to look busy. “I’m just glad you’re back in one piece. Are you hurt?” You cleared your throat awkwardly.

A small chuckle left him and his arms caged you into the bar, both hands grabbing a piece of the counter on either side of you. His head moved to one of your ears as his breath tickled the shell of it. “I might. Does my doctor want to check? What if I missed a spot and get an infection?”

You attempted to conceal the shiver that went up your spine. “You heal quickly…you’ll survive. Are you preying on an exhausted Hunter?” Your voice shook a little from anticipation as you squeezed your legs together.

“Not exactly.” His lips brushed against the top of your ear, his voice making you squirm in your seat. “Just wondering how much it takes to hear that you missed me.” He placed a quick kiss on the back of your ear and then moved slightly forward, his teeth scratching at your ear.

“Maybe.” You kept your front steady, not wanting to cave in too quickly. You turned your seat around, forcing him to back up slightly, and faced him. He regained his previous spot and leaned back into you, exchanging breaths. You closed the distance just enough for your noses to brush against each other, your hand moving up to hold his cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Sy. Good night.” Your thumb rested right above the corner of his lip and you tilted your head slightly to give your own digit a small kiss, teasing him. You then hopped down the stool, ignoring how his bulge rubbed against your hip and ignoring how badly you wanted to pull it out, before walking back into your room. 

You stood against the door after you closed it, breathless. He already knew your weak spots and he only had you one time. Albeit, it was a long time, but you were still surprised. You hand crept up to the ear he was teasing and you almost let out a soft moan just thinking of him biting it. As much as you wanted to play into his antics, you were proud you were able to hold off on it. He had you worried for weeks, he could wait another day. 

You just didn’t think you could wait without doing anything about your horniness yourself. 

Your phone buzzed on your bed and you opened it up to find the messages Sylus already predicted earlier. Simone seemed confused as to how the last few boxes of protocores were found near the warehouse, along with passed out smugglers. They even found the device connected to the tracker so she said you could return to the hotel room, if needed. And you finally had a day off. A day you planned to spend with Sylus. 

There was unbearable heat in between your legs as sex flashbacks flooded your mind thinking about him. You instantly grabbed your bag and rummaged to find your small toiletry bag. When you were sent out for the mission, you initially assumed you were going to be in a hotel room by yourself. Since you’ve been pretty frustrated with Sylus and on edge as a whole from work, you packed your trusty little vibrator. Although the ache you felt could’ve been better solved by your bigger wand, you aimed to pack the more portable, wireless, silicone egg. You needed something in you anyways, you just wished it Sylus instead. Instead, you remained hopeful for the following day.

The bed was extremely comfortable and if you weren’t so horny, you would have probably passed out from exhaustion. You giddily kicked off your shorts and instantly ran your fingers down your folds. Your middle finger slid down to your entrance, playing with it softly as you bit your lip to avoid making any sounds. You were soaked. It made you remember how Sylus’s fingers felt inside of you. Your one finger was nothing compared to his. His finger was thick and his touch felt calculated against you. You closed your eyes trying to relive it, and it wasn’t so hard since you’ve thought about it every night since. Every free night you had was spent touching yourself to him, and you wished dearly that he did the same thing. 

Your hips gyrated against your fingers as you imagined Sylus stroking himself like he did when he finished himself off on your stomach. The memory made a pit of fire grow in your lower stomach, the way he held onto your boob as he came all over your stomach with a grunt. The way he kept eye contact with you and muttered how pretty you looked, even as a wreck because of him. Your other hand came up to your mouth, suppressing a moan that would have definitely been heard. 

You flipped yourself onto your stomach, your other hand still touching yourself, steadying yourself with your free elbow. As much as you loved how he fucked you missionary style, the angles he hit once he flipped you over was delectable, to say the least. You took your fingers away from your core, feeling a slick string from how wet you were. You rummaged beside you to grab the egg, easily finding the button to turn it on. One press, two presses, and then the third press. Strongest, steady vibration setting. Almost enough to make up for the lack of length inside of you. You gripped the sheets tight as you brought the egg under and in between you, teasing your clit with the vibrations. You muffled your moans with the pillow, even drooling a little. You stuck your ass up into the air even more, pretending he was behind you. You brought the egg to your entrance, pushing the egg into your hole. “Mmpf…” You moaned into the pillow again.

The vibrator was easily sucked into your pussy, like your walls were waiting for something to fill you up. You grabbed the rubber tail of the vibrator, gripping it to push it in and out. You did your best to mimic how he thrusted into you that night. It wasn’t perfect, it didn’t have the stretch and it didn’t reach you in the places only he could, but it was close enough for you to grip the sheets with the imagination. His words rung in your head; sweet praises as his usually hard facade crumbled from right behind you. “Sylus…mpf…fuck.” You muttered, turning your head to the side so you could breathe.

You pushed it deep inside of you, just to feel the vibrations deeper where he would be. Your fingers moved back to your clit, rubbing it in circles. You wanted him, you needed him. After a few moments, the idea of him just being a few steps away made it even harder to finish. When you didn’t know where he was, it was easier to be desperate to finish yourself off. When you knew he was near you, you couldn’t help but need more.

You turned back around onto your back, frustrated. You gave up. You knew he would still be awake, so you reached down to pull the egg out like you always did…yet when you tugged on it, the rubber tail just snapped off. The well-loved vibrator was sick and tired of your rough pulling and gave up on you. “No no no…” You muttered, upset. You sat up with your legs wide open, the vibration becoming more of an irritation than pleasure. You reached in to try to grasp at the broken rubber nubbin, yet you were wet and slippery. Two or three fingers weren’t enough to grab it, and even if you could, it was too slippery and your walls would clench, swallowing it further into you. You fell back onto your back, sighing out of frustration. “Whatever…” 

With a sigh of defeat, you stood up. As much as anger was overtaking your horniness, it was still present and your legs wobbled. You walked over to the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. And you walked out with nothing but a tank top on, your bare ass with a vibrator inside of you out for show. You threw out your shame since there was no way you were getting it out yourself, and he had already seen you naked. The kitchen was clean and he was nowhere in the living room. So then you turned back into the hallway where your room was and saw a light underneath the door at the end of the hall. You stomped your way over, ignoring how there was something vibrating inside of you, and slammed open the door. “Sy-” You were about to call out to him until the scene in front of you made you stop in your tracks.

Sylus was on his bed, much like how you found him sleeping the first night you met him, only this time, his cock was in his hand. His sweatpants were just below his hips, enough to pull it out. His black tank top was pulled up above his abs, one of his nipples peeking out. And he was full-on stroking it. He didn’t even stop when you barged in, he just smirked at you, his hand moving slower. “Well…I don’t recall saying my prayers out loud, but I’m glad someone was listening to my thoughts. Did you come to help, sweetheart?” He was stroking himself so slowly, you wondered how it was helping his cock that looked angrily red at the tip. His eyes roamed you and you felt a bit more exposed, but you liked it a lot.

“What are you doing…?” You mumbled out loud, mentally smacking yourself on the forehead from the stupid question.

“Judging from how shiny the inside of your thighs are…and your lack of wardrobe, I’d say we were doing the same thing. Were you thinking about me too, kitten?” Sylus’s free hand moved outward, as if to invite you in. “Why don’t we help each other? Or do you plan to keep your revenge going?” He was smug…but he was smug for a reason.

You didn’t want to give in too easily though, “I just came because…” Your confidence went out the window when you were about to explain what happened, but the vibrations were turning a little too euphoric again from seeing him. “M-my toy’s stuck inside of me. Can you get it out?” You wanted to look away, but you were in a trance at him slowly jerking himself off. The lamp beside his bed helped you see how shiny it was with his own excitement. “Don’t laugh or I swear to god, I’ll go to a hospital and have one of the doctors help me out instead.”

His face hardened just for a second as he was about to laugh before a smug smile returned. “You’re going to have to come to me if you want me to help.” He let go of his cock yet it was still standing tall and proud, leaning towards his stomach from the weight of it all.

You trudged over and there was a mix of emotions in you. Excitement, embarrassment, humiliation, but horny overtook it all. You stood at the side of his bed, waiting for further instructions. 

Sylus noticed and he chuckled, “So obedient now, aren’t you?”

“Just get it out, Sy…” You sheepishly muttered.

The hand closest to you came in between your legs, his two fingers dipping into your pussy. “Mm, you’re soaked. Should we thank this toy for that or…?” His eyes looked up at you, teasing you. He rubbed at your entrance, making you clench around the toy, feeling the vibrations even more and your legs wobbled.

“Can’t you just use your evol…?” You winced, holding back a moan as his fingers were playing with you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He smirked, pulling his hand back. “Ow…the angle hurts my hand.” He feigned injury, making you almost roll your eyes. “I think I need you to climb over my face.” 

He must have expected you to fight back since there was a pause once you instantly got on the bed, swinging your leg over his face, straddling it. “Better?” You couldn’t help but have your face shake. His breath as he laughed was right on your heat, tickling it. Your legs were even shaking just from holding yourself up. And his cock was right in front of you, hard and twitching. “Just take it out…plea- hngh…fuck.” His fingers were instantly inside of you, deep inside of you.

“You’re still tight, kitten…even with this thing inside of you?” He cursed under his breath. “I think I can help you better if you’re not just looking at my cock, by the way. Feel free to have your way…” His fingers curled inside of you, making you fall forward.

Your hair must have tickled his dick, judging from how he grunted slightly, the length twitching. “Fine…” You dejectedly said, despite being so excited. His fingers were in you, paired with a vibrating toy. It felt blissful and sexy. It reached places you couldn’t for weeks. And it was Sylus, the person you’ve been craving this entire time. You grabbed his dick from the base, your wrist resting on his pubic bone, the hair tickling you slightly. “Fuck…” You muttered at how heavy and warm it was. You licked from the bottom to the top, and right when you did, his fingers went impossibly deeper into you. 

“God, you’re such a tease. A perfect…little tease.” He breathed out a laugh. “Fuck this toy, only I belong in here.” You felt him curl even more into your pussy, possibly curling around the toy and he pulled it out swiftly, the vibrations echoing in the room. He turned it off and tossed it onto the ground before he grabbed the globes of your ass and pushed you down to his face.

“Oh my fuckin- ngghhh…Sylus…fuck!” You nearly screamed, his tongue already lapping at you, the tip teasing at your clit before fucking into your hole. You couldn’t help but grind down onto him. “So fucking good, Sy…holy shhhh- fuuck.” Your forehead fell to his thigh, your hand stroking his cock lazily.

Sylus pulled away slightly, his breath tickling your pussy. “Yeah? Show me how much you missed me since you won’t use your words. And I’ll show you how much I need you.” He pulled you back down onto his mouth, eating you like a man who had been starved for weeks.

You managed to pull yourself up slightly, letting your drool spill onto the tip of his cock, spitting just a bit more to help with stroking it. You tightened your grasp around it, moving up and down, squeezing your thumb and index finger harder as you reached the head. His hips twitched every single time, and you wanted to see even more signs of him enjoying himself. You pulled all your hair to one side and then opened your mouth. As you curled your lips over your teeth, you took him into your mouth. He was thick and long, it was hard to fully take him in, but you did your best. Your own hips mindlessly grinded against his mouth, and you moaned around the head of his cock. As you took him in deeper and deeper, you stroked the remainder with your hand.

The room filled with two sets of obscene slurping, lewd squelching, and loud, muffled moaning. Each moan of his made it vibrate against your clit, making it hundreds of times more pleasurable, and you knew he felt the same way. One hand gripped at your ass whilst the other roamed up your back, tangling itself into your hair, holding you still. “Pinch my thigh, if you can’t take it…” He groaned out before planting his feet onto the bed. 

You fully braced yourself, excited.

His hips slowly moved up and down from the mattress as he held your head in place. Sylus was a god at multitasking the way he ate you out with the same precision whilst simultaneously building speed to fuck your mouth. He didn’t go too fast, but he went deep. You slacked your jaw and clutched at the fabric of his sweatpants, as you tried your best to take him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing around my tongue so fucking good, kitten. You don’t know how badly I’ve been wanting to try this. So fucking good for me…” He muttered in between licks at your cunt. “You like this shit? Should’ve done this earlier since you wanted to act like I didn’t want you…I always want you…” He cursed, his grip on your ass and hair tightened. “Fuck…it’s been so long, I could cum righ-” He groaned, trying to pull you up.

Yet you sat yourself further into his mouth, grinding into his tongue, chasing your own orgasm. And then you wrapped one of your arms under his leg, holding you in place as he shot his load down your throat. It was thick and salty, but you swallowed around his cock, taking every drop. 

Sylus grunted into your core as his hips stuttered, still licking away at you until you also came, gushing all over his mouth which he also drank up. His hand let go of your hair and his other hand rubbed circles on your asscheek. He continued to lick you through your orgasm.

You let his dick go from your mouth with a pop, licking it clean. It was still hard, as if he didn’t just cum. “Fuck, Sylus…” You groaned, your legs fully shaking around him before he finally let you go. You rolled off of him, laying down beside him. “You piss me off…but fuck this was so…good.” You heaved, trying to catch your breath as you twitched, post-orgasm.

Sylus let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Surely you don’t think this was enough? We have so much lost time to make up for, sweetie.” He fully pulled his pants down and got on his knees on the bed, right at your feet. His dick was still hard and angry.

You propped yourself up with your elbows, attempting to make eye contact with him but couldn’t help but constantly stare at his cock. “Yeah?”

“I made my GIRLFRIEND worry, I should make it up to her, shouldn’t I?” He smirked down at you. “Or do you have a problem with that?”

Your face burned, surprised at the title. You were sure you two were more than friends, but you nearly passed out from him saying it out loud. “N-no…”

“Good, get on your knees. I could tell how much you liked it before.” He pulled his top off in one swift motion before reaching down to take yours off. The two of you were fully nude in each other’s hands. “Fuck you’re beautiful…” His hand roamed up and down your side, sending shivers down your spine. His thumb grazed against your already hard nipples and he leaned further down to give each of them a kiss before moving up to your face. His kiss was gentle and you could taste yourself on his lips. It was deep and sensual, almost claiming. When he pulled away, his eyes bored into yours. “I would take this slower, but I need you terribly.” His hand moved underneath you, flipping you onto your stomach.

You instantly got yourself into position, resting yourself on your elbows as you stuck your ass out at him. “Please…I need you too.” You muttered, trying your best to arch your back sexily, pressing your breasts into the mattress.

Sylu spread your cheeks open, making you shy, but the way he marvelled and explored your naked body was romantic in a way, turning you on even more. He moved back a little and you felt a tongue back at your hole, earning a yelp from you. But just as quick as he entered, he was already gone. “Sorry, princess. I couldn’t help but get another taste. You taste so fucking good…” He got back up and pressed his tip at your entrance. “I don’t have a condom…”

“Fuck, Sylus! I don’t care…please. I want you…” You took a gasp of air, frustrated and impatient. “I want you to cum in me…if you try cumming outside again, I’ll kill you.” You confessed. As hot as it was, you were slightly disappointed. 

He laughed behind you, gripping onto the meat of your ass. “You have a filthy mouth, Miss Hunter. I can’t believe…” He inched forward into your pussy, stretching you with just the tip of his cock, making you throw your head back with a moan. “...Linkon’s best Hunter is this pliant and needy for the most wanted criminal everywhere- fuck!” His hand shot at your lower back, holding you still. “You got so fucking tight, just now…does that turn you on sweetie? Being with me? How would your coworkers feel knowing that you melt like butter in my hands?” He inched further into you with a grunt. Each inch of his cock he thrusted in and out gently, stretching you more for the next inch and the one after that until he fully bottomed out. “Wet and tight, made just for me.” He groaned. 

Your moans were muffled against the bed, unable to respond to any of his questions and statements. Your ability to think went out the window. He was fully buried into you, twitching inside of you as your walls hugged tightly onto him. The emptiness you felt for weeks was finally filled out. 

His hand reached up your back, tangling his fingers into your hair again, pulling you up from the mattress. “Let me hear you, sweetie. I wanna hear how good I can make you feel.” He said through gritted teeth and then he pulled out halfway. You whimpered at the loss, but instantly moaned out loud into the open air as he slammed back into you. His balls smacked at your clit, just right, making you squirm. “Did you miss me?” He asked, pulling back again before slamming himself into you with a groan. Again and again. “Answer me, princess.”

“Y-ye- ngh…I m-missed you!” You stuttered out in between his thrusts. It only took about a minute before you were cumming around his cock. He let go of your hair, letting you drop back down into the mattress to orgasm comfortably. You were practically spasming, your legs shaking and liquids dripping down your thighs. “So…much.” You slurred. 

“Good.” He gritted out again, still drilling into you. After a few moments, he stopped and you turned to look at him, confused. “Fuck yourself onto my cock, I still don’t believe you.”

You obliged instantly, no fight left in your to argue with him. You braced yourself with your hands on the mattress and moved your ass away from his hips. You sank into it slowly, groaning into the comforter. “Fuck…” You muttered. Your thighs ached, the pain from your wound becoming a bit more apparent from how tired you were getting. Yet you kept going. Moving yourself onto his cock, picking up the speed as you felt him knead your ass. A coil in your lower stomach grew tighter and tighter, your movements grew faster and faster until you came again. “Sy…lus…” You groaned as you shook around his cock, nearly slipping out until he grabbed your hips.

“You feel so good cumming on my cock, kitten. How many more do you have in you, huh?” Sylus said, breathless. He started moving in you again, pushing your hips off and back, meeting you halfway with his own thrusting hips. He got faster and sloppier. “You sure you want me inside? You want me to fill you up?” 

A string of pleading yes’s came out of your mouth, a surprise to the two of you since you never seemed to be quite the beggar. Your hand moved back to grab at his thigh, making sure he wouldn’t pull out. He was definitely stronger than you and you couldn’t possibly lock him in if you wanted to but you did so anyways.