#insecure!reader

You like the bar when it's empty. No lavish party being thrown, no strangers attempting to socialize with you, no pressure. Just you and Bucky making a dent in Tony's good stuff, and christening a couple of the couches while you're in here.

"So, you'll be gone when I wake up," You begin, meeting his eyes with yours. "I think that means you owe me a good night."

"Yeah?" He utters, before wrapping his hand around the leg of your stool and dragging you closer to him. "And how, exactly, do I give you that?"

"You should know by now, Serge," You reply, tracing his right bicep with your finger. His arms might be your favorite thing about him.

"No, I wanna hear it from you," Bucky says lowly, leaning in closer. "In detail. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Your stomach flips, and your heart beats a little faster. Don't show him how much he affects you. Don't give him the satisfaction. "I want you to bend me over this bar and fuck me," You say bluntly. "Hard."

"Yeah?" He mumbles, getting that dazed look in his eyes as he places his hand on your thigh and squeezes it. "Do you deserve it?"

Unable to keep collected, you let go of your pride and give in. He's the only one who gets you like this - the only one you trust with this side of you. "Bucky," You almost beg. "Please."

"There it is," He breathes out smugly. "That's my girl. Keep going; I'm not sure you've earned it yet."

Needing to feel him against you, you get off your stool and onto his lap, legs on either side of his. "Please, Sergeant, I need you really bad," You whine, moaning as you feel his boner against you.

His lips part and a shaky breath escapes his mouth. You're the only one who gets him like this - the only one he trusts with this side of him. "Give me a kiss, baby," Bucky mumbles, his hands moving down to your waist.

And, to his credit, he gives you a fucking great night. And, like you expected, he's gone in the morning.

"Couldn't this wait until next week's debrief?" You complain as you walk alongside Natasha down the corridors.

"Tony said we needed a short catch-up; there are apparently a few important updates he wants to give us," She tells you as you approach the meeting room.

"Is he finally gonna tell the spider boy to stop eating my protein bars?" You grumble before pushing open the door to the room.

You're surprised to see not only Avengers, but SHIELD agents in the room, too, as well as some others you don't recognise. The chairs around the table are all taken, so you and Natasha elect to stand against one of the walls, next to a group of agents that are familiar to you. Everyone's talking amongst themselves as it seems Tony still hasn't arrived. Trust him to be late to his own meeting.

"Good morning, Bloodhound," An agent standing next to you says with a nervous smile on his face, making you grimace.

The name that Oscorp gave you during their experiments on you unfortunately stuck in the minds of the public and anyone else you're not close to, and though you're not fond of it, you're not sure what else you'd rather they call you. The other Avengers usually use your first name, but you wouldn't want to give the agents that same access to you. Bucky calls you gunner as a reference to your time in the army, and as a response to you refusing to call him anything but Sergeant. Though the name Bloodhound has dark memories attached to it, you've learned to live with the fact that it's what you'll always be known as.

"I, uh, saw you running in Central Park this morning," The agent continues. "I see you there quite a lot, actually."

With narrow eyes, you glare at him. Your runs are an escape from reality, so to know they're being infiltrated by a stalkerish agent isn't the best feeling in the world.

"I was thinking," He goes on to say with a small smile. "Maybe we could run togeth-"

"What the fuck are you doing?" You cut him off coldly. Have you not built up your reputation enough? Why does he feel confident enough to ask to join you on your fucking runs?

His face drops and his cheeks flush pink, and he immediately turns to face the front.

Natasha snorts before nudging you. "Be nice," She mumbles.

You turn to her with an incredulous look. "Why?" You ask her, genuinely curious to hear her answer.

It's no secret that you aren't the most welcoming or warm of people - it took you three months to let Natasha into your room - and you don't care how it comes across. Admittedly, the trauma you faced at the hands of Osborn and Oscorp rid you of any fucks to give when it comes to being nice. Maybe you sound bitter and unfair, but you've done the therapy thing and you know it's not right to blame the world for what you went through- but that doesn't mean you have to be friends with everyone.

Most people suck. You'd rather not waste your energy on them.

Finally, Tony walks into the room with Pepper. "Sorry I'm late, folks," He calls out as the hubbub in the room quietens. "We haven't got a lot to get through, though, so I promise I won't be long."

While he talks through the more boring updates, you pull out your phone to check if Bucky's messaged you. It's a bad habit, and one that's only recently started. You've found yourself anticipating him; waiting for him to say something to you. It's a bad habit.

Sergeant Barnes

Just landed in Croatia.

It's been a full ten minutes and Sam hasn't mentioned Steve yet, so you owe me twenty bucks

Your lip pulls up at the corner but before you can subtly text him back, Natasha nudges you hard.

"Is he serious?" She asks you, looking at Tony with her brows furrowed.

Deciding to listen in, you put your phone away and focus on the meeting. "There won't be a huge difference and it'll be business as usual, but a few of you are being moved into other departments as a result of the government's involvement," Pepper says, to which Tony rolls his eyes. "They think it would be beneficial to create a role specifically focused on wellbeing."

"They still don't trust that I know what I'm doing," He adds, failing to hide the bitterness in his tone. "So I'd like everyone to welcome Poppy Newton; our Team Coordination and Wellness Officer."

Everyone's eyes go to the woman sitting in the middle of the table, including yours. Her baby blue dress and yellow-rimmed glasses make her stick out like a sore thumb among the agents in their dark tactical suits. The bright smile on her face only widens as the spotlight falls on her, and she looks around at everyone while she speaks.

"It's lovely to be here, and to be part of the team," She begins. "While I will be mainly stationed in the tower with a strong focus on the Avengers, I want the SHIELD agents to know that I'm just an email away."

"Lovely," Tony says, before clapping his hands together. "Alright, that's all for today. If anyone has any questions about their changed roles, ask Pepper, not me." While everyone else begins to file out of the room, Tony points at you and Natasha. "Girls, would you please be so kind as to show Poppy around?" He asks, though you know it's more of an order.

You grab Natasha's arm. "Hey, so uh, I was planning on training-"

"No, you're not getting out of this," She cuts you off bluntly. "Come on. It'll be good to meet her. After all; she's here to look after us."

With an inward sigh, you follow Natasha out of the meeting room where Poppy is waiting. She perks up when she sees you both, flashing you another one of those bright smiles.

"It's such an honour to be working with you Ms Romanoff, and Sergeant Y/L/N," She says.

"It's great to have you with us, Poppy, and please just call me Natasha; no need for the formalities," She responds politely. "Shall we start the tour?"

"Please!" Poppy chirps, before the three of you begin walking.

The tour consists of Natasha chatting away with Poppy, while you trail close behind. You know she's a part of the team now, but you can't see yourself being friends with Poppy - she describes things as wonderful and cosy, where you just see sweaty gyms and dusty common areas.

When the tour finally comes to an end and Poppy is dropped off to her room to settle in, you let out a long sigh and rest against the wall.

"She's nice!" Natasha exclaims, already knowing what you're thinking.

"She's exhausting," You grumble. "How can one person be so constantly... on?"

"You know, there are happy people in the world," She teases, nudging your shoulder before beginning to walk away. "Not everyone is as dark and gloomy as you!"

"Nah, I've sent Sam out on a beer run, and we're about 20 miles away from the nearest town, so I'll be alone for a little while," Bucky tells you over the phone. "How's it going over there? Steve said something about a big, important meeting we missed."

"I don't know about big and important," You reply flatly while mindlessly scrolling through movies on the TV opposite your bed. "Mostly just updates for the agents that make no difference to us. Oh, and Tony's had to hire someone to look after us."

"Look after us?" Bucky repeats with confusion in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm not actually sure what her job is, but the government sent her to make sure we don't go crazy or something," You tell him absentmindedly. "So far, she's printed off everyone's schedules on coloured paper, and I think she gave Steve a massage."

"A massage, hmm? You're making me excited to come home," He says, and you can hear the smirk.

"Oh, yeah? The idea of a woman you've never even seen gets you more excited than me?" You ask dryly, not genuinely offended but still wanting to push the boundaries of whatever your relationship with Bucky is.

"Is she hot?" He asks.

You think about it, tilting your head. "She's definitely pretty," You say. "I don't know if she's your type, though."

"So what you're saying is, she looks nothing like you?" He questions, to which you snort.

"Are you saying I'm your type?" You ask slyly. "And here I thought you were just getting your dick wet with the first person who could get it hard."

"Hey, you weren't the first," Bucky says defensively.

"I was the first who managed to keep it up," You point out.

"Doesn't that technically make you my type?" He wonders.

"Maybe I intellectually turn you on because of how smart I am," You poise. "Doesn't mean I'm physically your type. But I think Poppy definitely isn't your type."

"Poppy, huh? Sounds cute," He quips.

"Oh, cute is the perfect word for her because she uses it to describe, like, everything," You say with a dry laugh. "And she wears a lot of colors, and is always smiling, and bakes cookies every night."

"Alright, I'm beginning to see what you mean," Bucky says with a chuckle. "She's not you, baby."

As much as you hate that your heart takes him seriously when he makes off-handed comments like that, you can't help it when your stomach flips. "Anyway, when are you coming back? I'm bored and want sex," You say flatly. That's it. Make it about sex. Nothing romantic or emotional at all.

"We'll be back at some point tomorrow, we just need to wrap a few things up tonight," He tells you. "Then I'll wrap my thing up tomorrow night... and put it inside you."

"That was terrible. We don't even use condoms," You utter. "But I'm looking forward to it."

"You're not leaving me, are you?" He asks.

"I have my show to catch up on," You tell him.

"But I thought, you know, with Sam gone for a little bit, we could have some fun," He says suggestively.

You smirk to yourself and sink back into your pillow. "I don't think so, Sergeant," You reply. "You know I love it when you get back from a mission with all that pent up frustration you can take out on me. I'm not ridding myself of that opportunity. Especially not when you've been gone so long."

"Fuck, you're killing me," He groans. "You're really not gonna help me out?"

"No, and you're not allowed to help yourself out, either, so don't take it out your pants," You order him sternly.

"Too late. It's been out since you picked up."

"Sergeant Barnes!"

"You know your voice is enough for me. Can't I just listen to you rant about your show, or Poppy while I... help myself out?" He inquires.

"Absolutely not; you've been waiting all week so you can wait another night. And I don't want you to jerk off while I talk about another woman," You say curtly.

"Jealous, are we?"

There it is. The stinging J word. You tease each other with it, knowing it's the second emotion you aren't allowed to feel - the first being love. You and Bucky are just friends who have a lot of sex, and emotions would just get in the way of that.

"No, it's the principle," You claim. "I'm not helping you get off to someone else."

"I don't even know what she looks-"

"Listen, Sergeant, you are not allowed to cum until you next see me," You cut him off, sick of him thinking he has you on strings. "Put your pathetic little dick away and count sheep. And when you see me tomorrow, you're gonna fuck my brains out like it's the last time. Do you understand?"

There's a brief pause and he lets out a shaky breath. "Yes."

You sigh. "Yes, what?"

Another brief pause before he responds. "Yes... mommy."

"That's a good boy," You say. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"If you haven't killed me by then," He says with a strained voice. "Fuck, I can't wait to fuck you."

"Good night, Sergeant," You sing teasingly.

"Good night, you little shit."

Team dinners are one of the first things Poppy implemented as the Wellness Officer. She claims that quality time can lead to a 25% increase in efficiency and communication in the field, and you wonder what branch of the army she learnt that from.

While the others converse among each other, you play with your stew. It's almost 8pm and Bucky and Sam still aren't back, and if you have to wait another day, you aren't sure that you'll survive. One of the reasons you and Bucky started sleeping together was stress relief, and with Poppy's delightful presence having you on edge, you're as stressed as ever.

"More bread?" Steve asks as he holds the basket out to you.

"No, thank you, Captain," You reply, unable to speak to him any less formally. Your time as a weapon for the army left you with traits and behaviors you couldn't control, most of which you therapied away, but respect for those who rank above you is one of those things that just doesn't seem to budge.

Steve knows that, and though he hates that you're constantly at attention around him, waiting for an order or scolding, he understands that it's how you're wired.

"Poppy made it fresh," Tony tells you as he takes another piece, his eyes fluttering shut as he smells it. "And it's glorious."

With pink cheeks, Poppy shyly looks down at her bowl. If nothing else, it is interesting to have her around. Though nobody is quite as stoic or cold as you (besides Bucky on his bad days), none of the Avengers are anywhere near as upbeat and joyous as Poppy, either. You wonder how it works. Where does that energy come from? Is it naivety that makes her see the best in everything? Has she never been hurt, or betrayed? What's wrong with her?

Would you be like her if you didn't go through what you went through?

"Finally," Tony says as he looks down at his watch that just flashed with a notification. "The boys are back!"

Although you want to rush to the hangar and steal Bucky away to the nearest bed, you have an image of nonchalance to uphold, so you remain seated, taking another bite of your stew. It takes almost ten minutes for Sam and Bucky to get to the dining room, each minute driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

When you see him walk in, you shift in your seat but remain sitting. His eyes immediately land on you, and he shoots you a sly wink that makes your thighs squeeze together.

"Hey, come on in, sit down," Bruce greets them, pulling out the empty chair next to him. "You must be hungry."

"Nah, we filled up on MREs on our way back," Sam tells him, to which Wanda grimaces.

"I don't know how you guys actually eat those things," She says with a look of disgust on her face.

"They're army boys; they're used to 'em," Natasha says with a laugh.

"And they're much better nowadays than they were in the 40s," Bucky adds.

"Sure? Poppy made stew and fresh bread," Tony tells them, before perking up. "Oh! This is Poppy, by the way, our new Wellness Officer. Poppy, this is-"

"Sergeant Wilson, and Sergeant Barnes, it's an honor to meet you both," She says as she rushes to her feet, shaking each of their hands.

"Please, we're just Sam and Bucky in here," Sam tells her with a chuckle. "So, wellness, huh?"

While they chat, Bucky walks over to you. "Hey, do you mind if I discuss something with you? We found some files that might be linked to Oscorp, so I wanted you to have a look at them first," He says, and you know he's lying through his teeth and just wants to get you alone so he can ravage you. And, more than happy to comply, you stand up.

"Ooh, hold on!" Poppy calls out to you both. "As Sergea- Bucky has just arrived from a mission, I need to go through the debrief with him."

"We don't have debriefs until Captain Rogers and Tony look through the intel," You point out to her with a frown.

"Oh, no, not a mission debrief, per say," She says with a soft laugh. "More of a personal debrief. Just to make sure everyone comes back feeling good."

"I feel fine," Bucky says flatly.

Poppy laughs again, and you realize it's something she does when she's nervous. "I'd much prefer to talk about it one-on-one with you, Bucky," She says. "It's a new policy that's been put in place. I'll talk to you first, and then Sam, if that's okay?"

"Sure," Sam agrees while taking a piece of bread from the basket on the table.

"It's policy, Barnes," Tony sings, giving him a pointed look.

Letting out a sigh, Bucky nods. "Alright," He says, shooting you a quick look. "We'll discuss the Oscorp files later."

"Yep," You say, trying not to let your annoyance show as Poppy leads Bucky out of the room.

"Ooh, Y/N's boyfriend just got stolen," Clint sings teasingly, making Sam snort.

A cold glare is shot his way from you. "Fuck off, Barton," You utter. "Don't you have kids to raise?"

"They're at sleepaway camp!" He exclaims.

"You two should fight to the death," Tony casually suggests, standing up. "I'm taking bets, people."

"I'll put ten on Clint," Bruce says, raising his hand.

"What? Y/N's a super soldier that can make his blood explode," Wanda says with a scoff.

"That was one time, and I still haven't figured out how I did that," You tell her, before focusing your glare on Clint. "But what I do know is how to dislocate your shooting shoulder in less than a second."

He clutches it protectively. "Alright, I yield," He says, sitting back in his chair.

"Anyway, I'm going to bed before Poppy comes back and makes us all sing kumbaya," You say flatly, standing up.

Thor snorts, shaking his head. "She's a lovely girl, Y/N," He comments while you walk towards the door. "You oughta learn a thing or two from her!" He manages to get in before you leave the room.

You grumble all the way back to your room. Learn from her? What, how to perfectly place stickers on a chart?

You manage to watch an entire episode of your show and Bucky still doesn't arrive. For some reason, even though you know it likely isn't his fault that his talk with Poppy is taking so long, you still want to punish him, so you leave your room and head to one of the common rooms you know will be empty at this time.

This common room is filled with lava lamps and low lighting; Tony said it would be relaxing. Relaxing isn't something you're capable of, though, so you pace around the couch instead, letting your mind wander to dark places. Are they fucking? Or worse, emotionally connecting? What if he falls in love with her?

"Thought I'd find you here, gunner."

You spin around to see Bucky standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of briefs, taking you aback.

"You're naked," You utter.

"I'm sorry I took so long," He begins. "It-"

"I don't care, Sergeant," You cut him off curtly. "Get over here, already."

He obeys you without another word, striding over to you. Once he reaches you, he immediately crashes his lips onto yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands squeeze your ass. It doesn't take long for him to remove your t-shirt and pyjama shorts before throwing you onto the couch with a look of hunger in his eyes.

"I thought about this every second that I was gone," He utters lowly, sinking to his knees. "Are you nice and wet for me, baby?"

Your hips lift up in anticipation as your breath hitches in your throat. "So fucking wet for you," You whisper.

He crawls over to you before leaning up and using nothing but his teeth to pull down your panties. Once they're off, he tightly grabs your thighs and spreads your legs. When he dives into your pussy, you cry out, your head thrown back against the couch.

Bucky wasn't always this good at eating you out- in fact, at first, he was borderline terrible. It was his first time going down on someone since the 40s, and you could tell. He was happy to take on your constructive criticism, though, and now you can honestly say he's the best oral sex you've ever had - you could also honestly say he's the best sex you've ever had, full stop, but you don't want to give him a bigger ego.

"Just like that, Bucky, don't stop," You whimper, tugging on his hair. His eyes are on you, his pupils so dilated you can barely see any blue.

His hands trail up your stomach, up to your tits. While his tongue fucks you, he pulls and twists on your nipples, making your legs shake. Your eyes roll back and your back arches. The long wait for this has meant you're not lasting very long at all, ready to cum already.

"That's it, baby, let go," He mumbles before sucking on your clit.

You let out a strangled cry, pulling his hair so hard you're sure you've left a bald patch, as you reach your climax. Bucky keeps going while you shake beneath him, letting out weak whimpers.

He eventually gives you a break and pulls away, crawling up onto the couch and settling between your still-shaking legs. His hand cups your face as you breathe heavily, his thumb stroking your cheek, watching you. Many times before he's told you how much he loves watching you during this part - coming down from your orgasm. Watching as your heartbeat returns to normal, your breaths less deep, your wits slowly returning to you. Bucky lets you come down completely before kissing you. He's always been a good kisser; that was one you thing you didn't have to train him on.

"How was that?" He whispers against your lips.

"It was alright," You answer with a grin.

"Hmm. One step up from okay," He says, rubbing your earlobe between his fingers. "Ready for me to fuck your brains out, now?"

"No, I wanna suck your dick, first," You tell him. "Needa return the favor."

"That wasn't a favor; that was me doing what I wanted to you," He corrects you. "And now, I wanna fuck you."

"But I wanna suck your dick," You counter, digging your nails into his shoulders as you grind your hips, rubbing your wet pussy against his clothed boner. "Please, Sergeant Barnes, I want it in my throat."

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum if you don't stop," Bucky says with a shudder. "How do you get me like this so easily, huh?"

Using more of your strength than usual, you push him off you and get on your knees on the floor in front of him. He balls his hand into a fist and bites his knuckles, throwing his head back over the sofa. It drives him crazy when you manhandle him; it's the reason you can't spar together.

"Give me a second," He whispers, his chest heaving while you slowly peel his boxers down.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but I'm impatient," You say teasingly before wrapping your mouth around his thick cock and taking a few inches of it in.

"Oh, fuck!" He cries, running his hand through your hair. "Baby, I swear, I'm gonna cum so fucking fast if you don't give me a second-"

"So cum," You say, though your words are muffled due to the cock in your mouth. Pulling your mouth off him with a pop, you give him a blank look. "Cum down my throat, and then you can have two minutes to recover before you rail me."

He lets out a shaky breath, and lets out what almost sounds like a sob when you take him back in your mouth and start bobbing your head up and down. "Fuck, baby, you'll kill me one of these days," He groans, staring down at you as strings of pre cum and saliva coat his cock and your lips. "That's it, get it nice and messy. You like getting messy, don't you?" He rubs the cum onto your cheeks, shuddering when you wink at him. "You suck my cock so good, baby. My good little cumslut, aren't you?"

You let out a moan as his words send sparks through to your core. His dirty talk drives you insane, and he knows it. He could destroy you by just whispering a few words into your ear, and he especially loves doing so in public when there's nothing you can do about it.

"I'm close, baby," Bucky warns you.

As much as you would feel good about making him cum right now, it sounds like am even better idea to prolong his frustration- so you pull your mouth off of his dick.

"What the fuck?" He whispers between heavy breaths.

You stand up with a coy look on your face. "I changed my mind," You say simply. "Just want you to fuck me, now."

He clenches his jaw while you bite your lip, recognizing the dark look in his eyes. Not only is he frustrated, now he's irritated too. And he always fucks you harder when he's irritated.

Bucky stands up and grabs a fistful of your hair before forcing you face-down onto the couch. He mounts you from behind, using his metal hand to keep yours behind your back while he pushes his cock into you.

"Is it in yet?" You ask with a smirk, trying to hide your gasps as he fills you up.

"Fuck you just say?" He shoots back, lowering his head so his mouth is at your ear. "Gonna be like that, huh?" Without warning, he starts fucking you, hard.

Sex was something he was good at from the start, too, but he only gets better the more he learns what makes you squirm, what makes your eyes roll back, what makes your cunt tighten around him.

One of the other reasons you and Bucky decided to start sleeping together was the fact that, as you both had serum running through your blood, and had been through the worst kind of physical pain already, you can be as rough with each other as you want (which is a lot). Bucky doesn't have to worry about hurting you, which is what stopped him dating normal people, and you can manhandle him when he's in the mood to be submissive (which isn't often enough, in your opinion).

"Fuck, I missed you," He groans as he slams in and out of you. "Did you miss me, baby? Tell me."

You turn your face so your cheek is smushed against the couch. "I missed you, Serge," You let out weakly. "So fucking bad."

"Yeah?" Bucky presses, his lips nibbling at your earlobe. "Bet you couldn't stop thinking about me. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Your heart flutters at his words. Don't take him seriously. It's just horny sweet nothings.

He slows down his thrusts but still fucks you just as hard, letting out a grunt each time he bottoms out in you. His face is buried in your neck, while you feel your second orgasm quickly approaching.

"Bucky," You whimper.

"Tell me, baby," He whispers softly, though his thrusts are anything but.

"I'm- I'm gonna-"

All of a sudden, you hear it. Footsteps. Then you smell it. Strawberry perfume. Bucky's thrusts stop at the exact same time your sentence is cut off - someone's coming.

The second he pulls out, the doors open. Bucky gets off you and tosses you your shirt, which you rapidly put on.

"Oh!" A familiarity grating voice chirps. "I wasn't expecting anyone to- oh."

You pull on your shorts before standing and turning to see Poppy, and you can't help the way your eyes narrow at her.

"Sorry, Poppy," Bucky says as he uses a pillow to cover his bare chest, his boner poking through his briefs.

"No, I'm sorry!" She says. "I'm just doing my nightly sweep of all the common areas to make sure they're fit for use in the morning- I assumed everyone was in their rooms by now."

"It's barely 9pm," You point out flatly, frustrated that she interrupted when you were so close to finishing.

"I'm so sorry for just bursting in like that," Poppy said, hugging a decorated clipboard to her chest. "There's never anyone in these rooms past 8."

"You've been here a week, so how would you know?" You question her.

"Alright," Bucky utters sternly, giving you a pointed look before turning back to her. "It's our fault, Poppy. We shouldn't have been... doing that here."

She nods slowly. "I wasn't aware that the two of you were a couple," She says. "There's actually a policy in place for this kind of thing - you know, to keep the both of you safe."

"I think we're plenty safe, Newton," You utter curtly. "We don't need a color-coded schedule for when we're allowed to fuck."

Bucky hides his snort with a cough.

"Of course not!" Poppy exclaims with flushed cheeks. "I don't expect you to have to schedule... that. I just want to make sure you're both alright."

"We're fine," You tell her, folding your arms across your chest. "Neither of us rank higher than the other, so there's no abuse of power. We're both consenting adults. You don't need to be involved. At all."

She winces at your words, but keeps that damn smile on her face. "I completely appreciate that, but I really do need to follow policy and speak to you both alone, just a quick catch up so we're all feeling comfortable," She says. "Bucky, could we please have the room? I'll speak to you tomorrow."

Bucky glances at you and nods. "Uh, sure," He replies, before coming closer to you and whispering in your ear. "I'll be in your room."

You clench your jaw as he walks out, watching as Poppy shyly looks down when he walks past her.

"So, that's nice! You and Bucky!" She exclaims as she closes the doors and walks further into the room. "Now that we're alone, I can ask you some questions to make sure everything's fine- which I'm sure it is."

You say nothing, your fingers twitching.

"This won't take long at all," She assures you. "Let's get started - how did this all begin?"

"Do you really need the whole story?" You ask her.

A nervous laugh escapes her mouth. "I guess not. It's just that, with you having a relationship with someone on the team, we need to ensure a healthy and respectful workplace," Poppy explains.

"I was horny one night. Bucky was there. The rest is history," You say bluntly.

Her cheeks flush pink and she nods quickly. "Right. Uh, to begin, I'd just like to ask if there have been any concerns raised by your fellow teammates about your relationship with Bucky?"

A sigh leaves your nose. "It's not exactly public knowledge," You tell her. "We've never explicitly told anyone, anyway. And to be honest, I'm not sure anyone cares."

"...Right," She says, before scribbling something down on her clipboard. "And if the relationship was to come to an end, do you foresee this resulting in any conflict, if you're still expected to work together?"

"No," You utter. "We're mature adults. I think we can handle it."

"Right, and um, just to make sure we protect you in the case of a pregnancy, would you be happy to do a monthly test?" She asks you with a raised brow.

"That won't be needed," You tell her flatly. "Oscorp didn't think it was necessary for their weapons to be able to reproduce."

Her lips part and she sucks in a sharp breath, before pursing her lips together and nodding quickly. "Right. Right."

"Will that be all?" You ask.

Poppy nods at you. "Of course. Oh, one more thing," She begins. "I would really appreciate it if you and Bucky kept your... relations... strictly in your own rooms, and not in the common areas. Alright, you're free to go!"

"I hate her," You mumble as you repeatedly open and close your switchblade. "I fucking hate her."

"She's not that bad," Natasha says. "You just need to get used to her."

You let out a grumble, staring at the breakfast counter. It's a quiet Sunday in the tower, which you're grateful for. Bucky's looking through the cabinets while Natasha paints her nails next to you. Suddenly, he gasps.

"No way. Chocolate cookie mix," He says, holding the box up. "Check it out!"

"Looks like it's been in there for years," You comment.

He reads the back and shakes his head. "It's not expired yet," He tells you, before giving you a grin. "Wanna help me make them?"

As much as you wouldn't mind baking with Bucky, you can't. Domestic, romantic tasks like that are exactly what will cause you to slip up and do something stupid like catch feelings for him. And you'll also look like a total sap in front of Natasha.

"Come on, gunner," He presses. "I'll even let you crack the eggs."

"I'm good," You say, standing your ground.

Bucky pouts at you, and before he can beg you further, someone else enters the kitchen. And of course, it's her.

"Hey, gang!" Poppy greets with a grin, her eyes widening when she sees what Bucky's holding. "Ooh, what do we have here?"

"Uh, chocolate cookie mix," He tells her. "Just in the mood for something sweet, so I thought I'd make 'em."

"That sounds like fun!" She exclaims. "Can I help?"

"Sure," He replies quickly. A little too quickly for your liking.

"First - aprons," Poppy says with a giggle, tossing him one of the aprons hung by the oven before putting on her personalised pink one that has 'Pop!' embroidered onto it. She takes the box from Bucky and reads the back. "Hey, these kind of cookies were pretty popular back when you were a kid, right?"

A warm smile grows on Bucky's face. "Yeah, they were. My grandma made the best chocolate cookies," He tells her. "I, uh, thought it might be nice to have a taste of home."

Fuck. You feel awful for rejecting him now, knowing he wanted to share a heartfelt memory with you. Shit.

"Judging by these ingredients, I don't think this box mix will taste anywhere near as good as your grandma's," Poppy says, before tossing it in the trash. "I happen to have my own recipe for chocolate cookies, passed down my family through generations. Wanna give me a hand making them?"

"Of course," Bucky says, his face absolutely lit up.

You feel a little nauseous, watching them bake together. You've never seen this side of him before. He looks... happy. At peace.

Sometimes, you wonder if you make him worse. If every time he looks at you, he's reminded of his own sordid past. If every time you refer to what you went through, it gives him his own traumatic flashbacks. He tells you his nightmares aren't as bad anymore, but he could easily be lying. At first, with everything you had in common, it made sense for you to spend time with him. But maybe he's grown out of you. Maybe he needs someone more like Poppy to show him everything good in the world, rather than remind him of all the bad.

Maybe it's best for you to withdraw.

"You okay?" Natasha asks with a whisper before blowing on her nails.

"Perfectly fine," You mumble, your eyes still on Bucky who's laughing while Poppy places balls of cookie mixture on the tray.

"All you gotta do is tell him how you feel," Natasha says.

"I don't feel anything," You state adamantly.

"Sure," She says with narrow eyes. "I see through you, ice queen. You gotta melt before you lose him."

With a huff, you leave the kitchen and make your way to the living area just outside it, slumping down on the couch. Natasha may be right, but she's also wrong. It's not about you telling him how you feel or admitting that you want more than sex - it's the fact that he deserves better than you. Someone who will light him up. Make him feel joy and excitement, not bring him down.

You're watching a mind-numbingly boring documentary when Bucky walks out into the living room, smiling when he sees you. "There you are," He says, walking over to where you're sitting.

"Here I am," You reply, your heart racing the closer he gets. Get a grip.

"Thinking about me?" Bucky asks you, standing next to the couch.

"Not at all," You lie through your teeth.

He leans down and lowers his voice. "Are you sure about that?" He questions you teasingly, before leaning in and giving you a soft, slow kiss.

His hand slips under the band of your shorts and bypasses your panties, and he rubs his fingers up and down your wet pussy. A whimper escapes your mouth, and he pulls away from the kiss with a smirk.

"I knew it," He utters, taking his hand out of your panties. "Always wet for me, aren't you?"

"No. It's this documentary," You claim stubbornly. "I'm really into... the process of making sheet metal."

"Oh, yeah?" Bucky asks with a smirk. "Got it. That's my next Halloween costume settled."

"Sorry for not making cookies with you," You say, blinking up at him. "If I knew you'd emotionally blackmail me with the dead grandma thing, I'd have said yes."

A grin spills out on his lips. "Gunner, are you feeling bad for me right now?" He wonders with a look of delight in his eyes. "Don't worry, baby, I got my cookies in the end. Poppy is a wonderful baker, by the way."

"So I've heard," You say with your eyes on the TV screen.

"She's also got a great ass," He adds, trying to get a reaction out of you.

"Yep."

"And is probably a great kisser."

"Mhm."

"Baby," He mumbles in your ear, rubbing your thigh as he finally gives up trying to lure you into an outburst. "Let's fuck."

You snort. "We're not allowed to fuck in common rooms anymore," You remind him.

"So, let's go to my room," He suggests.

This wasn't the plan - but how are you supposed to withdraw from him when he looks at you like that? Maybe he is happy with you. He's been a lot less stressed out and snappy ever since you've been sleeping together - everyone can see that. He seems happy right now, anyway.

"Fine, but you're carrying me," You say, holding out your arms.

Just before he can pick you up, Poppy bursts into the room with a wide smile. "The cookies are done!" She sings, waltzing over with a plate which she places on the coffee table. "Everyone, dig in!"

Natasha's behind her, already chowing down on a cookie. Bucky immediately reaches out and picks up two, handing you one. Hesitantly, you take a small bite. You hate that it tastes amazing.

"Oh, my God," Bucky says with a mouthful of cookie, swallowing before he continues. "Poppy, this tastes exactly like grandma's."

"Ah, I'm so happy to hear that!" She gushes.

"These are incredible," He all but moans, sitting on the arm of the couch next to you. "You sure you shouldn't be a baker, instead? I'd pay good money for these."

"Oh, no," Poppy says bashfully. "I like taking care of you guys too much."

He chuckles at that, while you bitterly eat your cookie.

He wouldn't be happier with her. He wouldn't. He would not be happier with her. He categorically would never be happier with her.

That's the mental mantra you find yourself repeating as you stare at yourself in the mirror. You're not insecure about your looks. You believe him when he says you're the most attractive woman he knows. You know you're great in bed. Your physical strength is one of his biggest turn-ons. Besides your inability to love, you're the full package. But Bucky doesn't want love, anyway. He's never asked for it. That's not what this is. The both of you are traumatised beyond belief, so all you want is a warm body and orgasms; not a fragile emotion that could fall apart at any moment.

"Done checking yourself out?" Grant cuts in dryly as he stands behind you, his arms folded across his chest and an unimpressed look on his face. "I came all the way up here to spar, Bloodhound, not watch you fall in love with your own reflection."

With an eye-roll, you turn to face him. Grant is the only Agent you semi-get along with, and the only one you'd ever spend time outside of work with. He doesn't ask stupid questions, pry into your personal life, or try and suck up to you, which is more than you can say for the rest of the agents.

"Alright, Ward, let's do this," You say, walking over to the boxing ring.

Grant gets a lot more out of these sessions than you - you have to hold back your strength to make sure you don't kill him, while he gets to go as hard as he can to test his own strength and agility. The only reason you agreed to these sessions is because you've learnt that it's good to have a high-up agent in your pocket for when you need information about a mission or target that you wouldn't otherwise be able to get.

The gym's empty when you begin to spar, and slowly fills up with your teammates as the sun rises outside the window. Among the agents, you spot Bucky walk in at some point too, unable to help his wandering eyes from watching you fight. You barely break a sweat while Grant is fighting for his life, before he eventually taps out.

"Alright, alright, I'm done," He says between heavy breaths. "Next time, you can go a little harder."

You snort and raise a brow. "Are you sure about that, Ward? Know what you're getting yourself into?"

He just nods, grabbing his water bottle from the side of the ring and chugging.

"Oh, Y/N! It's great to see you here!"

You can't help but immediately roll your eyes at Poppy's chirpy voice, slowly turning to face her.

"I know you usually train alone, so it is brilliant to see you working with the agents," She goes on to say with a grin, before craning her neck to look behind you. "I hope she didn't go too hard on you, Special Agent Ward!"

"Not at all," Grant replies, wiping his sweaty forehead with a small towel as he stands next to you and wraps his arm around your shoulder. "Bloodhound looks after me very well."

With a grimace, you shove him away from you. "Consider it charity," You tell Poppy.

"Well, it's very kind of you," She says, before her eyes light up. "But if you want a more challenging partner, why don't you spar with Bucky? I know he's been complaining about Steve missing their last few sessions, and he'd likely appreciate training with someone more on his level."

"Good luck with that," Natasha calls out to Poppy with a smirk. "Barnes and Y/N don't train together."

Poppy frowns at Natasha's words. "But why not?" She asks.

"He's scared of me," You throw out as Grant clambers out of the boxing ring.

From the other side of the gym, Bucky snorts. "You fuckin' wish, gunner," He calls back smugly. "I'd have you on your back in seconds."

Ignoring his quick wink, you shoot him a glare. "You'd be knocked out before you even realized what was happening," You fire back.

"Well, why don't we find out?" Poppy asks with a grin. "It'll be good for you both to train with someone at your level so you can really give it your all. Holding back on training will only weaken you."

"Does this really fall into your remit?" You wonder.

"Of course!" She exclaims. "I need to look out for your wellbeing on the field, too!"

The truth is, the reason you and Bucky don't spar - or rather, can't spar - is because he gets far too excited whenever you exhibit your strength against him. You've sparred him exactly once, and when that ended with him jizzing in his pants, you both agreed it would be best to train separately from then on. And that was before you started sleeping together.

"I'll tell you the truth, Poppy, about why they don't spar," Sam inserts as he strolls over with a smirk on his face. "Because they're both too scared to find out who number two is."

"Number two?" Poppy repeats with a confused look.

"You know; Steve is the strongest on the team in terms of human physical strength," Sam explains. "He's beaten both Bucky and Y/N in strength tests before. So, he's number one - and if Bucky and Y/N ever fight, we'd find out who number two is."

"And they're both too scared of the shame they'd feel if they ended up being number three," Natasha adds with a shrug. "It's all very juvenile."

You hold back your smile. It's cute that they think Steve is number one. The only reason he's beaten you in training sessions is because you don't use your full strength against him - he's your Captain, your senior, and you've frustratingly got it stuck in your head that you're to be subordinate to him, and beating him would be disrespectful.

"Alright, fuck it," Bucky states as he makes his way over. "Let's do this, gunner."

You raise a brow as he climbs into the ring, and admittedly your heart flutters. Though you're much better at hiding it, there's no denying you get just as excited as Bucky at the prospect of being manhandled by him.

"This is gonna be good," Sam says with a smirk. "Tasha, get your hundred bucks ready, because Barnes is going down."

Moving closer to Bucky, you lowly warn him, "You better keep your shit together, Serge."

He clenches his jaw as you walk circles around each other. "Go easy on me, baby," He whispers.

Although you know it's best to do as he requests, you can't ignore your competitive streak - especially knowing that Natasha's bet against you. You and Bucky start slow and carefully, but it quickly turns into a brawl.

You've forgotten how much fun it is to use your full strength in a fight when you know your opponent isn't actually trying to kill you. At one point, you slam Bucky onto the ground and straddle him, pinning him down. His eyes darken and you feel his boner poke against your inner thigh.

Bringing your lips to his ear, you whisper, "You're far too easy, Sergeant."

With a huff of frustration, Bucky all but throws you off of him. He's slower and weaker than he can be, too turned on to think straight. His new goal is to pin you down, to take control, in an attempt to drive you as crazy as he feels. You fight back against his attempts, catching on to what he's trying to do.

Meanwhile, Natasha nudges Sam from the sidelines. "Is it just me, or is this incredibly sexually tense, right now?" She mumbles.

Sam just continues watching on with wide eyes.

When Bucky grabs your waist, it immediately gives you flashbacks to all the times he's grabbed it before - and you falter. He takes the opportunity to grab you and throw you down, crashing down onto you and pinning your arms down on either side of your head.

His eyes burn into yours, and suddenly, all you can see is him. The world melts away as his crystal blues hook you in, holding you captive. His boner rubs against you, stealing your breath.

With a new wind of determination, you rip your right hand out of his grip and wrap it around his throat, before pushing up your waist against his and forcing him onto his back, sitting on top of him.

He lets out a grunt and shudders beneath you, to which you grin.

"That was a new record," You mumble. "You lasted a lot longer than usual. I'm proud of you, Sergeant."

"Fuck you," He hisses through gritted teeth.

"Well, we should probably go," Sam calls out awkwardly as he claps his hands together. "I think you owe me a hundred bucks, Romanoff."

"Are you sure?" She asks, tilting her head. "I have no idea what just happened."

"I think I do," Sam grumbles before him and Natasha share a look and leave the gym.

"That was exhilarating to watch!" Poppy exclaims, entirely unaware as to what Bucky just did in his pants. "Bucky, do you want another shoulder massage? You said it really helped after your last training session."

Your eyebrows fly up. He didn't mention a fucking massage to you. And he let her touch his shoulder?

"Uh, no, I'm alright, Pop," He replies. "Think I need a shower more than anything."

Pop? That bastard.

Before he can leave first, you climb out of the ring and speed-walk out of the gym, refusing to be the one left behind.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream.

So why aren't you waking up?

You see flashes of their faces. The innocent lives you took without hesitation. The families you destroyed.

And you see the faces of your captors. The doctors who experimented on you, pushed the limits of pain until you forgot what comfort felt like, who turned you into an inhuman weapon. Not only do you see their faces, you feel them. Their fingers, their grip, their pull.

And you see him. Bucky. He looks soft and sweet and everything you know him to be.

But you're hurting him. Chasing him down like one of your victims, watching as his skin is coated with his blood, destroying him. He's screaming. Begging you to stop. Asking you why you're doing this to him.

You sit up in bed with a gasp, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat sits on your skin. The bed feels cold and empty, and you think you might have a panic attack if you don't get proof that Bucky is safe, so you rush to your feet.

The clock on the wall tells you it's 2am, so you know it's likely that Bucky isn't in his bedroom. He'll be in one of the common rooms, the one with the lava lamps, probably recovering from his own nightmare. You've told him numerous times that you don't mind him waking you up when he needs to, but he says he'd feel too guilty to wake you up in case you're actually having a good night's sleep; a rare occurrence for you both.

You make your way to the common room, making sure to grab a packet of Bucky's favorite cookies from the kitchen on your way. As you get closer to the common room, you can hear his breath, but you stop in your tracks when you hear someone else.

"That's what I do, anyway," Poppy says softly. "That, or a warm glass of milk and counting sheep - my mom's method."

They laugh gently together, and you lean against the wall in the dark corridor so that you can peek through the crack in the door. He looks beautiful, his skin free of any blood, his face free of any pain. He's smiling. He looks at peace. He's safe, so you can rest easy.

But it still kills you that it's not you who he's safe with.

"If you ever need to talk, about anything, I'm always here," Poppy goes on to tell him, making your stomach churn.

Slowly, you back away. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like Bucky heard you at all; a testament to your sneaking skills. Though the feeling of panic and dread isn't quite fully quelled, you at least you know he's okay. Maybe even happy.

And you know you're selfish and a bad person for resenting Poppy for being the one to make him feel that way. It should be you - but you know you can't be that for him. So now you're stuck in a cycle of hating her but also hating yourself and appreciating her for being what you could never be for him.

It's painfully conflicting, so instead of thinking too much about it, you leave the tower, hoping to find some lowlife criminals you can beat up instead of yourself for once.

No matter how many fancy parties Tony throws, you'll never get used to the sight of yourself in a nice dress. You opted for a silky, black number, and you're glad when you see the myriad of colorful outfits that help you blend into the background as you enter the bar. Making a beeline to where Sam and Steve are chatting by the balcony doors, you avoid making eye contact with Tony's annoying business partners.

"Hey, here she is," Sam calls out with a wide grin, holding him arm out. You give him a quick side hug before standing up straight when you face Steve.

"Evening, Captain," You say firmly.

He sighs. "What's it gonna take for you to call me Steve, huh?" He asks, to which you glance down.

"I'm sorry, Captain Rogers," You say sheepishly. "It's built in."

"Maybe you two need to spend more time together so that you can see what a goof this guy really is," Sam suggests with a laugh. "All that respect will drop real quick."

"I'd really like that," Steve says, holding his arm out to you. "C'mon, Y/N, let's get you a drink."

With a nod, you link your arm with his and allow him to lead you to the bar.

"Y'know, I've been meaning to spend more time with you anyway," Steve admits. "With how close you and Bucky are getting, I figure I better make more of an effort."

"Oh, it's not like that between him and I," You assure him.

"No? Could've fooled me," He says teasingly as you reach the bar. "What's your poison?"

"Uh, just a whisky for me, please," You say, feeling entirely odd. It's not like you to engage in casual chit-chat with Steve, let alone get him to order you a drink.

Once the bartender slides your glass over, Steve takes your hand and walks you over to the floor-length windows. "This is killing you, isn't it?" He asks with a chuckle. "Holding your Captain's hand?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, using all your will-power not to pull your hand out of his and give him a salute instead. "I'm fine, Captain Rogers. This is fine," You claim.

"Alright, I'll be nice," He says, dropping your hand with a grin. "Anyway, I don't want to be holding your hand when Buck gets here. He'd probably throw me through this window."

You laugh at that, shaking your head. "I'm sure he wouldn't. He'd be too busy dodging all the women fawning all over him, as per usual," You say with a smile.

"Crazy how that's changed, right?" Steve says with a playful frown. "I used to be the one fighting off the attention, and now he's come in and stolen it all."

"I'm sure you still get plenty of attention," You mumble without meaning to.

"Are you flirting with your Captain?" He asks in a stern voice, making your eyes widen.

You straighten your back and look up at him. "No, Captain Rog-"

"I'm messing with you," He cuts in with a chuckle. "I'm sorry. That was mean." He then takes out a flask from his inner jacket and looks around to make sure no-one's watching, before pouring a splash into your glass. "Asgardian. Consider it a gift."

As much as you didn't think so, Sam seems to have been right, and the more time you spend chatting with Steve, the more comfortable you feel around him.

"Alright, as much as I'm enjoying this, I should go speak to some of Tony's partners," He says reluctantly. "Save me a dance later, yeah?"

"Will do, Capt- Steve," You say, smiling when his face lights up.

He puts a hand on his heart as he walks backwards. "We did it!" He cheers, before leaving you alone.

You turn towards the bar in search of another drink when you almost bump into Poppy, who looks equally as surprised to see you.

"Oh, hello!" She greets you cheerily, before looking you up and down with wide eyes. "You look absolutely gorgeous!"

"Oh, uh, thanks," You reply curtly, taking in her lilac dress. "You look nice, too."

"You're too kind," She says with a grin. "Hey, I've been meaning to speak with you a little more, one-on-one. I feel like I don't give you as much of my time as I do the others."

"That's not a problem," You assure her quickly. "I don't need therapy, or anything like that."

"Well, that's not all I offer!" She claims. "I'm here to help you meet whatever needs you feel aren't being met. That could be anything and everything."

"Right," You mumble. "My needs are being met, Newton, so I don't need you."

She looks disheartened at your words, but you don't care. "Um... how are you and Bucky doing?" She questions you carefully.

"What?" You ask, getting more irritated by the second. "Bucky and I are nothing, so you don't need to keep asking."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," She says, taking your words to mean that you've ended it between yourselves.

And then you get an idea: if she thinks you and Bucky are over, she'll stop pestering you about it every week.

"Well, it was only ever sex between us, so it's not a big deal," You say casually. "I'll find someone else to screw."

"Right," She utters.

"So, like, what's wrong with you?" You can't help but ask, the Asgardian ale loosening your tongue.

"What? What do you mean?" Poppy asks you with wide eyes.

"I mean, what's your deal?" You question. "You're just always happy, and upbeat, and seeing the brighter side. What's up with that?"

She looks taken aback by your words. "Oh. I guess... I just like being happy? There's far too much sadness and gloom in the world as it is, so why add to that? I just want to make sure everyone's comfortable to be themselves, and remind them that there is so much beauty and joy to be experienced if you just let it reach you."

Taking in her words, you nod slowly, and realize exactly how different you really are to her. Where you see failure, she sees opportunity. Where you see disappointment, she sees a second chance. Even now, with you being cold and closed off, she's still trying with you. She hasn't rolled her eyes or gotten annoyed at how stand-offish you are. She listens and engages and, even though she never could, she does her best to understand.

She's the complete opposite of you.

Suddenly, you get that sixth-sense feeling. You smell his aftershave as he approaches the room, combined with the perfume he only wears on special occasions. Your stomach flips. You're facing the doorway before he even appears in it, and it's like the whole room quietens down by twenty decibels when he walks in. Everyone turns to look at him, just as you look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing you're anticipating him. Instead, you look at Poppy, and you instantly recognize the look on her face.

Her eyebrows are raised slightly, her lips parting. Her eyes are locked onto him as if he's the only thing she sees.

And you can't blame her for feeling that way. You'd be a hypocrite if you judged her at all.

She starts fidgeting, looking down at her dress and smoothing down any creases, tucking her hair behind her ear and taking in a deep breath. Almost as if she's preparing for him to-

"Hi."

Your breath hitches in your throat. With your focus solely on Poppy, you didn't sense Bucky getting closer. You turn to him, his all-black suit destroying any sense you had left in your head, and just stare at him dumbly. He's looking back at you, warmth in his eyes.

"Hi, Bucky," Poppy replies nervously.

You look back at her. She's good. She would be good for him. Better than you could ever dream of being for him.

So you pat his shoulder and give him a nod as if he's nothing more than a colleague to you, and walk away, leaving them to it.

It feels like you're being torn apart as you hear them talk, so you speed to the balcony, focusing your heightened hearing on the wind, instead. Regretfully, you take a look back just as the French doors shut behind you, only to see Bucky laughing at something she said. It's his genuine laugh; the one where his eyes light up and his eyebrows fly up in delight.

She'd be good for him. For his mental health. How could you come in the way of that? If you truly care about him, how could you stand in the way of his health and happiness? He'd probably lose the abs from all the baked goods, but he'd be happy. How could you stop that?

"Hey," A voice calls out from behind you.

You turn to see Wanda who has a knowing look on her face. "Get out of my head, Maximoff," You utter sternly.

"I couldn't help it. You looked so... sad," She says, walking over to where you're standing by the railings and looking out at the city.

"That's none of your business," You say with a bitter tone. You're angry that she's read your mind, but a part of you is slightly relieved to know it isn't just your secret anymore.

"He really, really cares about you," She claims. "It's very obvious."

"That doesn't matter," You reply, tightening your grip on the railings. "He could be in love with me, for all I care. It doesn't change the facts."

"And what facts are those?" She pushes.

"That I'm bad for him," You reveal. "I'm... I'm just a walking reminder of everything he went through. At the start, it was nice to have someone who truly understood what we went through, who could genuinely relate. But now... he's come so far, and all I do is drag him back to the past. I can't keep doing that to him. It's selfish."

"Is that how you feel?" Wanda asks you. "That Bucky just reminds you of your past? Does speaking to him, being around him, take you back to your days at Oscorp?"

"No," You answer instantly. "Never. Even when he talks about HYDRA, all I can think about is how... angry I am at them for hurting him. How much I want to make him feel better."

"So why do you believe it's any different for him?" She questions with a quirked brow.

You let out a long sigh, staring up at the sky. Barely any stars are visible thanks to all the light pollution, but the moon's still shining. "He still has a chance. There's still light and love in him; I can see it. It comes out around... people like her. She brings out the best in him. Makes him smile and laugh, and bakes fucking cookies with him. I can't do that. Her magic doesn't work on me. I'm too far gone," You tell her, the Asgardian alcohol allowing you to open up in ways you wouldn't usually dream of. "I could never be like that. In fact, I'm so unlike her that I resent her for how happy she is. How positive her outlook on life is. I'm... jealous and I wonder why the fuck she gets to be like that. Why didn't she have to go through what I went through? Why does she get to live her life in a bubble? Why does she get to be happy and patient and kind? I hate her for something that she can't control, and convince myself that it's fine for me to treat her like shit because nothing I do to her will ever even come close to they did to me. It's like I'm... punishing her. Which makes me a bad person, with a rotten soul. And proves that Bucky deserves better."

"I think you'd be surprised at how wrong you are," Wanda says simply, before squeezing your shoulder and leaving you alone again.

After a few more minutes of listening to the traffic below, you decide to head back into the party. It's warmer inside, though seeing that Bucky is still talking to Poppy sends a cold shiver down your spine.

"I was wondering where you were," Steve says as you approach him and Natasha in the middle of the room.

"Just needed some fresh air," You tell them casually.

"I'm gonna head to the bar; I think Bruce is trying to play bartender again," Natasha says with a grimace before she walks away.

Steve gives you an expectant look. "Come to give me that dance you promised?" He asks.

"Sure, Steve," You say, still feeling incredibly weird using his first name.

"That's it; you're learning," He teases before taking your hand and leading you to the makeshift dance floor.

You dance to the slow rock song for a short while without speaking, your mind racing with a hundred thoughts. Would you be able to watch Bucky with her? It would probably kill you to see them kiss. You'd need to move out of the tower, and maybe even leave the Avengers as a whole.

"What's on your mind?" Steve asks, interrupting your overthinking.

"I don't know," You answer dumbly.

"Is everything okay?" He questions with concern on his face. "You and Bucky all good?"

A dry laugh leaves your mouth. "I don't know," You repeat.

"What did he do?" Steve utters, looking around the room in search of his idiot best friend.

"Absolutely nothing," You assure him. "Bucky is... perfect."

A warm smile takes over and he leans in closer. "I have it on good authority that he feels the same about you," He whispers.

Your chest tightens but you keep the pain off your face. Instead of responding, you rest your head against his shoulder. It does feel nice, being friends with Steve and not having to be on edge around him just because of his status in the army all those years ago.

Once again, you feel it - that sixth sense. Bucky's approaching. You remain as you are, hoping he's just walking past, not sure you're able to handle a conversation with him right now.

"Uh-oh. I'm about to be thrown through a window," Steve mutters, to which you snort.

"You could take him any day," You say, purposely loud enough for the brunet to hear as he reaches you.

"Is that really how you feel?" Bucky asks from behind you. You lift your head off of Steve and turn to face him, everything inside you stilling as you see the small smile on his face. All you want is to melt into him.

"I mean, I've never seen you pull down a helicopter, Sergeant," You say teasingly, to which Steve chuckles.

Bucky's smile gets a fraction bigger, before he gives Steve a nod that says, alright, your time's up, leave us alone. And Steve, knowing his friend well, bids you both farewell before doing exactly that.

"You're avoiding me," Bucky says bluntly once Steve is out of earshot.

With a sigh, you place your hands on his shoulders. "Let's dance," You say, not giving him a choice as you start swaying to the beat.

His hands find your waist and he pulls you closer. "I don't dance," He utters bluntly.

"Neither do I," You return.

"Why did you tell Poppy we broke up?" He questions you with a frown.

"Broke up?" You repeat with a confused look.

"You know what I mean," He says with an eye-roll. "You told her you're not screwing me anymore."

"Just wanted to get her off my back about it," You answer casually.

He purses his lips and nods slowly. "But I... you are still screwing me, right?"

A breathy laugh leaves your mouth, but then you falter, and don't reply.

Bucky stops in his tracks. "Okay. You're scaring me now," He says lowly.

"Let's go talk about this outside," You say, taking his hand.

"What? No," He replies stubbornly, planting his feet on the ground. "Tell me what's going on, right now."

You look around the dance floor at all the other guests before looking back up at him. "I don't think this is the best place to-"

"I don't care," He cuts you off, his brows furrowed. You can hear that his heartbeat has quickened. "Just talk to me. What is going on?"

You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. "I just... I've been thinking lately, and..." You trail off, hoping he'll jump in and say something, but he just looks at you expectantly. "Bucky. I don't think we should do this anymore."

His hands fall from your waist. "You can't do that," He mumbles. "You can't just do that to me, gunner."

"It's for the best," You claim, feeling like your insides are being ripped apart.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He asks, getting the attention of a few people around you.

With a wince, you shake your head before running away, like a coward. He chases you out, obviously, grabbing your arm just as you press the elevator button.

"You have to explain yourself," He says, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "You can't just... you don't get to just drop me like I'm nothing and leave me to find out from the fucking Wellbeing chick."

"She likes you," You tell him. "Poppy really likes you, Bucky."

"And? You're just gonna give me up without a fight?" Bucky asks you incredulously. "As if I'd ever just step to the side cause some other guy had a crush on you? You're not gonna tell her to fuck off, and that I'm yours? I mean, this is Poppy we're talking about; who the fuck is she compared to you?"

You hear a short gasp and turn your head to see none other than Poppy standing at the entrance, her eyes wide. Fuck.

Bucky glances over at her, but he's too mad to even acknowledge her presence. "C'mon, let's go upstairs and talk about this," He says as the elevator arrives and opens up, and pulls you into it before pressing the button for your floor.

The doors slowly shut just as you see Poppy wiping away a stray tear. And for the first time since you were a child, you feel bad for someone.

"That wasn't nice, Buck," You say lowly, surprising yourself with your empathy.

"I'm not a nice man," He says bluntly.

"Yes, you are!" You claim, turning to face him. "You can be. If you're with someone like her."

He gives you an incredulous look. "Is that seriously what you think?" He asks, offence in his tone. "What, you think she can fix me?"

"You don't need fixing," You retort. "But she can make you happy."

"You make me happy," He shoots back at you.

"I'm just a warm body; I can't help you feel better," You say, feeling sick to your stomach.

"What are you talking about?" Bucky asks as the elevator comes to a stop.

The doors open up and you step out, with him hot on your trail as you walk towards your room. "I'm like you, Bucky. Exactly like you. Too much like you," You say as you reach your door. "I just... I don't want to bring you down. Remind you of all the... all the shit we went through. We fuck, and it's great, but I can't... I can't bake fucking cookies with you. I can't go on dates to Coney Island. I can't wear dresses like this every night and... I can't marry you or have kids. I'm nothing like her. Maybe... maybe if I wasn't taken by Osborn and turned into a weapon, I'd be more like her. But I was. And you deserve to feel normal and safe. And to go on cutesy fucking dates and eat homemade brownies and... she'd be so good for you, Bucky. And if not her, then someone like her."

"So, you'd be happy with someone more like her, too?" He asks you. "Someone more normal?"

"No, and that's the point!" You exclaim, entering your room. "She asks me to do pottery painting and I'd rather smash the clay over her head. She wants to go on fucking nature walks and play board games and I'm too bitter and resentful to play along. It's like I... I don't want to be happy. I'm fine the way I am. But you're... I see the way you laugh with her. I can imagine it. Maybe not her specifically, but someone you could have a picket-fence life with. A healthy relationship that fulfills you in every way, not just sexually."

He doesn't say anything, processing your words as he follows you into your room. You collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, lying back and staring at the ceiling. He shuts the door with a soft click before pulling off his jacket and tossing it onto your drawers. For a short while, neither of you speak.

"I don't even know where to start," He mutters, taking a seat at your desk. "I... I had no idea you felt like that. As if you've been doing anything but bringing me peace."

You let out a dry scoff. "Buck, I cry to you almost every Saturday night about all the fucked up shit I've been through," You remind him. "I dump my trauma onto you as if you don't have more than enough of your own. That can't be healthy."

He stands back up and sits on the opposite site of your bed, lying down so his head is next to yours. "Remember that first time you opened up to me, all those months ago? When you first had Thor's beer and were drunk for the first time since you were a teenager, and all you could do was cry?" He asks you, making you cringe.

"All too well," You whisper.

"And I kept you in my room because I knew you wouldn't have wanted everyone to see you like that. And the next morning, I thought you'd just leave, but you stayed. And you talked to me. Opened up to me about your feelings and your triggers and... fuck, you were hugging my arm so tight, and..." He shakes his head, letting out a short sigh. "That was the first time in a long, long time that I felt like I could help someone. The fact that you felt comfortable enough around me to speak about your deepest wounds... Letting me hold you while you cried, like I wasn't a monster. Like I could be someone that protected you."

"You were that person," You mumble. "You are."

"And since that day, I've never stopped wanting to be that for you," Bucky tells you, turning his head to face you. "That's how you make me feel. When you trust me with your secrets and let me carry the burden of your past, I feel more human than ever. This isn't just sex to me, my girl. You mean so much more than that."

You turn your body to face him and rest your hand on his chest, feeling each of his breaths with a rise and fall. "I'm not the kind of girl you can take bowling, and I'd rather die than kiss you in public," You point out. "I'm not gonna be your Valentine, or celebrate anniversaries. I'm-"

"I'm not asking for anything to change between us," He cuts in, placing his hand on top of yours. "I'm just telling you that... you're it for me. This is it for me. I don't need anyone else or any other kind of woman. As long as you want me, I'm yours. You fit me, more than anyone ever has and ever could."

You lean forward so your noses touch. "I... I'm not going to say this often, Barnes, so take it in while you can," You pre-warn him. "I love you."

A grin spills out on his lips. He doesn't try to hide it. "I love you, my girl," He whispers back. "We're all we need."

You smile back at him.

"I didn't get the chance to tell you how incredible you look tonight," Bucky says softly. "When I walked in, all I could see was you. It's like that every time I walk into a room. Even when you're not there, I look for you. Just... wanna be wherever you are."

"I, uh, have this weird thing," You begin with a laugh. "You know how we can tell when someone's about to walk in? We hear the specific weight of their footsteps, or smell their perfume, or whatever? Well, with you, it's like... I know it's you before I even hear your footsteps. And not just because I recognize your aftershave. I just... feel you. And it puts me at ease, knowing you're nearby. I'm not exactly a damsel in distress, but I feel safer when you're with me. I've never depended on someone like that. Even though it terrified me at first, I've grown to appreciate it."

Bucky's eyes flutter shut as his grin stays up. "You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that," He says, turning his body to face you and cupping your cheeks in his hands. "And I know it's hard for you to drop your guard. I'll never do anything to make you regret it."

"I know," You mumble, before laughing. "You look weird upside-down."

"I was just thinking whether I'd be able to kiss you in this position," Bucky admits with a chuckle.

You lean forward and shuffle down so your lips are level with his. Slowly, you close the gap between you, and though it's slightly odd at first to be kissing his mouth upside-down, you quickly get the hang of the tongue logistics.

"As much as I love you in it," He begins saying between kisses. "How about we get you out of this dress?"

You grin into the kiss, tugging on his hair. "I thought you'd never ask, Sergeant."

a/n: eek so this has been in my drafts for a good few months. been a concept i've wanted to write for soooo long. reminds me a little of one of my first ever (potentially my first ever) bucky fic, silent girl and the winter soldier. hope you enjoyed <3

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“That just means she really likes you,” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders.

Bucky huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t understand, man. It’s bad, like really bad. I can barely get any of my shit done with her begging for my attention twenty-four seven. I just need some damn space to breathe sometimes.”

You didn’t think you were that bad. Sure, you really liked to drag him away from his work for cuddles—but that was only because you thought he needed the breaks. You know that he used to run himself dry, never letting himself rest until he practically passed out from exhaustion. You didn’t want that cycle to continue. It wasn’t like you forced him to do anything. He could always say no to you. In fact, he has said no to you a few times before—when the work was too important to shove aside for later. All those times he allowed himself to be pulled away, reluctant as he was—how many of those times had he been covertly annoyed with your insistence? How many times did he wish you would just leave him alone?

Your stomach twisted, guilt looming over you. He struggled socially, ran on a limited battery when it came to social interactions—why did you think it would be any different with you? Why did you think you were special? Of course, Bucky is sick of you. When’s the last time that Bucky had some time to himself without you bombarding him with affection and small talk?

“She’s spoiled, that’s what she is,” Bucky grunts, shaking his head. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. Spoiled? Is that what he really thinks of you? How could he say such a thing? And to Sam, nonetheless. “She eats way too damn much. She’s been gaining so much weight recently; it’s honestly a problem. She ain’t gonna lose it any time soon either with how fucking lazy she is.”

Sam snorts. “Sounds like someone needs to go on a diet.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky huffs before taking a sip of coffee.

A wave of mortification crashes over you, tears gathering in your eyes. Heart pounding, you take a shaky step back, determined to run back to your room before either of them catches you eavesdropping.

You race back to your shared room, tears blurring the hallway beyond recognition. Once in the safety of your room, you sink down to the floor, back pressed heavy against the door. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you press a hand over your mouth—as if that alone could muffle the sobs wracking your body. The betrayal is sharp, sinking its claws into your chest and twisting deep inside of you. How could they say those things about you? How could Bucky say those things about you?

You weren’t that clingy, were you? You just liked being close to him, liked the warmth of his presence, the way he always made you feel safe. And sure, maybe you indulged a little too much lately, but had it really made that much of a difference? Have you clung so much that Bucky has started to resent you for it?

The words replay in your head, each repetition hitting harder, sinking deeper. He sounded so frustrated—so tired of you. Like he was already pulling away, one step from slipping through your fingers completely.

And could you even blame him?

You’ve seen the women he works alongside, the kind of people who seem like they belong in the world. Strong, confident, beautiful. Not needy. Not desperate. Not… you. Maybe he was just now realising what you had known all along—that you weren’t enough. That you never had been.

A fresh wave of tears burns your eyes, but you swallow hard, forcing them back down. You wouldn’t let this be the end.

You could fix this.

You could give him space—stop clinging, stop being so needy. You could take up less room, be less of a burden. And if you skipped a few meals, if you pushed yourself harder, maybe you could be someone he actually wanted again. Someone he’d be proud to love, instead of someone he merely put up with.

You just had to be better.

You would be better.

When you emerged from the bedroom for the second time that day, you made sure to make your arrival audible lest you walk in on them still talking about you and your shortcomings. Whilst you couldn’t stomach any breakfast, you needed your caffeine fix. Bucky greeted you with a wide, beautiful smile and a kiss on the forehead.

It almost made you sick—the way he was able to talk about you like you were the dirt underneath his shoe, only to turn around and play the role of your sweet lover. How could he act like everything was okay when he clearly held resentment against you? It almost makes you wonder how long he’d put up with you for the sake of maintaining this relationship—how long since he’d noticed your defects and realised that he deserved better. You almost feel selfish for keeping him tied to you. Now that the secret is out, there’s no point in dancing around the subject. And yet… here you are. In a kitchen you share with a man who doesn’t love you like he used to, and the man he entrusted with his troubles over you.

Just a little longer, you pleaded. You just need a chance to prove your worth. Bucky won’t have to worry about your overbearing clinginess. He won’t have to be embarrassed to be dating someone of your stature. Bucky deserves the best after everything that he’s been through; you were determined to be that for him in whatever way it took.

You startle out of your thoughts from the movement at your feet. A white ball of fluff looks up at you, meowing incessantly. You reach down to scritch between Alpine’s ears. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo at her, abandoning your quest for coffee in lieu of holding your baby girl. At least Alpine appreciated your affliction for affection.

You don’t miss the look that passes between Bucky and Sam.

Stomach churning, you suddenly don’t feel the desire to make your coffee anymore. In fact, you don’t even want to be in this room anymore. “I’m going to go over to Nat’s,” you say, hoping that Nat isn’t too busy today.

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Weren’t we going to see that movie today?”

Shoot. You had completely forgotten about that. “We can go later, Nat wanted me to come over right away in the morning.”

“Let me make you your coffee before you go.”

“That’s okay, I’m stopping to get some for Nat and me,” you say, dismissal clear in your tone. It would have made you feel bad to act this way before—before his cruel words effectively tore your heart and spirit to shreds. You gave your baby Alpine a kiss on the top of her head, promising her that you’d be back soon before seeing her back on the ground. You grabbed your purse and sped out of the door without even saying goodbye to the two men.

You spent the majority of the day with Natasha, dread curling around your insides every time you thought about going back home, back to Bucky.

You had promised him that you’d be back to see the movie; however, so, too soon for your liking, you say goodbye to Nat and walk back to your apartment.

There’s a vase of your favourite flowers sitting on the counter when you enter. You frown at the sight, not sure why he would bother when he’s obviously upset with you.

You walk into the living space to see Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, his work laptop abandoned on the coffee table. Bucky greets you with a smile, setting a protesting Alpine aside to stand up and give you a welcome home kiss.

“What time were you thinking of for the movie?” He asks, arms resting around your waist.

Frustration begins to creep into your chest. If he had a problem with your clinginess, why is he initiating contact? That’s not fair. How are you supposed to leave him alone when he does stuff like this? “Doesn’t matter to me,” you shrug, not able to meet his eyes.

“There’s a showing in an hour, how does that sound? We can go get dinner afterwards.”

“Sounds great,” you replied.

The movie would have been great if you hadn’t sat there stewing in your own anxiety the entire film. Afterwards, Bucky took you to your favourite restaurant where you ordered a salad with the dressing on the side. Bucky’s brows furrowed at your unusual choice, but he didn’t say anything. The dinner was stilted and awkward, both of you running out of things to talk about sooner than usual.

For the next few weeks, you successfully distanced yourself from your boyfriend. You ignored the way your heart ached every time you saw Bucky alone on the couch, wishing you could go over and snuggle up to his warmth. You learned to ignore the hunger pangs, the way your stomach felt like it was eating itself. Your head split open with the force of the headaches pounding against your skull, vision swimming every time you stood up too quickly.

It’s fine, you told yourself. Who really needed breakfast anyway? Why eat lunch when you could have a few snacks? Bucky was right, you really did eat too much. You could survive on one meal a day, snacks thrown in when your hunger got the best of you, or your hands began to shake too much. You were getting better for him, though, so it didn’t matter. You were eating less, clinging less—just like Bucky had wanted; so why wasn’t he happy yet?

The bed felt colder than usual.

You used to sleep tangled up in Bucky’s arms, leeching off of Bucky’s furnace of a body. You used to tuck your perpetually cold feet against his legs, laughing off his grumbling about how your toes felt like icicles.

Now, you curl up at the farthest edge of the mattress, not willing to accidentally touch him when he clearly wants to be left alone.

You used to look forward to getting home from work, ready to melt into your supersoldier’s arms at the end of a long, tiring day.

Now, you’re filled with dread, wondering if this time will finally be the last.

You used to love the shared dinners at the worn table you had found at a thrift store long ago. Bucky and you would take turns choosing what meal to prepare—you had been on a mission to introduce him to the world of flavour the 21st century had to offer; he always used to say the best part of the ordeal was watching your expectant face as he tried the first bite.

Now your stomach twisted at the mere thought of eating in front of him. His words echoed through your brain with each bite you took—it was enough to make you sick.

Bucky had grown short and snappy with everyone (except you) lately; Natasha had complained ad nauseum about your grumpy boyfriend the last few times you’d hung out. You couldn’t help but think that all of those weeks of your overbearing clinginess were finally catching up to him, as if talking to Sam had opened the floodgates. He has finally realised what his problem was: you.

You really were too late to fix this. No amount of distance could fix what damage had been done. Bucky had a foot out the door for a long time now, and you had been too oblivious to notice.

It was a typical Tuesday when Bucky sent you a text that shattered any hope of repairing your relationship.

>>>Hey, after work, can you come straight home?

>>>We really need to talk.

The cursor blinked steadily even as your hand shook. Tears quickly blurred the damning texts beyond recognition—not that you’d ever forget those words; the words that signified the end of the best thing to happen to you.

After crying in the bathroom for the entirety of your lunch break, you passed through the rest of the day in a haze. Your coworkers knew something was wrong, of course, they did, but you didn’t offer up any explanation.

You felt something press against your throat as you slid the key into the lock, suffocating you with every step you took towards him. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable any further. You wouldn’t continue to drag Bucky down.

The vase of flowers was still sitting on the counter—he’d been buying you a new batch every time they started to wilt. Was he cheating on you? Was that why he was getting you flowers so much more often? The thought was something you’d have previously thought inconceivable, but now you weren’t so sure.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Bucky called out your name from the living room. You forced your gaze away from the flowers and to the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the sofa, hands clasped in between his knees and head hanging low. Your stomach swirled at the sight. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to cut his losses—cut you from his life.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands out of sight to hide the way they trembled. You waited for him to say something, not willing to be the person to instigate the conversation.

“Could you sit down?” Bucky asks, sounding so small as he gestures to the armchair. You walk over to the chair, despite wanting to stay as close to the exit as possible—ready to run away as soon as his words cut through you like a knife.

Bucky sighs deeply, his hands running over his face. You almost reach out for him, wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss those lines away from his forehead. Stopping yourself, you remind yourself that it’s not your place, not anymore, and it hasn’t been for a while now.

“This isn’t working anymore, doll,” Bucky says, not even able to look at you. You saw it coming a mile away, and yet it doesn’t take away the anguish those words bring you.

You know you should say something, but words seem to escape you as soon as you open your mouth. Instead, a hot ball of grief and shame lodges in your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, despite telling yourself that you would not let him see you cry over this. It’s for the best, you try to tell yourself. You were but a stepping stone to Bucky’s recovery. You should be grateful that a man like him even offered you a second glance. Despite the way things ended, you know that you’ll look back on all the memories you made together and smile. Because, for once in your life, you knew what it was like to be loved so wholly. You knew what it was like to have a man who cared so deeply, loved so openly, and gave you enough devotion to last a lifetime.

“Yeah,” you agree with him for the sake of things. You hope he won’t look too deeply into your unshed tears, the way your voice wobbled and the way your body trembled. “I… I should go.”

“Doll-”

You cut him off before he can get another word in. “No, just… let me-”

Standing up to run away from this awful conversation, you feel the world sway around you. Black fades in at the edges of your vision as you stumble forward. You think you hear Bucky calling out your name under the sharp ringing in your ears. Clenching your eyes shut, you brace yourself for the hardwood floor.

—

“Doll?”

You groan as something prods your side. Just five more minutes, you think, burying your face into the warmth surrounding you.

“Sweetheart, please!”

Is that Bucky? Why does he sound so worried?

Blinking up at your boyfriend, you find that you’re both in the living room. Bucky’s clenching onto your body like a lifeline. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He stares blankly at you for a few seconds. “Doll… you just passed out.”

“Oh,” you eloquently respond.

The fog covering your brain begins to lift bit by bit. You were both sitting down… Bucky was… he was breaking up with you.

Jolting, you scramble out of Bucky’s arms, pushing him away, away, away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your heated face in shame. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you say, despite knowing full well that ever since you started skipping meals, you’ve been prone to blacking out if you stand up too fast.

Bucky frowns at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like you aren’t telling the truth right now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter! You just fainted. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you’d have cut your head open on the side of the table. Tell me what’s going on!” Never before had you heard Bucky sound so worried.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I–Why do I care?” Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “You did not just ask me that.”

“You’re finally breaking up with me, you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore,” you shoot back, venom lacing your words as you extricate yourself from under his arm.

“Breaking… I wasn’t going to break up with you,” Bucky says as if the idea alone was unimaginable.

“Bullshit! I know that you’ve been wanting to break up with me for weeks—months even!”

“Where the hell would you get an idea like that from?”

“I heard you talking to Sam last month. You told him that I was clingy and lazy and fat.”

Bucky looks positively bewildered at your words. “I would never say any of that crap!”

“But you did.” You cross your arms, daring him to continue lying to you.

“Why the hell would I ever say that? I sure as hell don’t think any of that-”

“Oh, give it up, Barnes. Who else would you have been talking about? Who else is such a spoiled, lazy, clingy, fat-”

“Oh my god,” Bucky interrupts you. “Are you talking about that time I was complaining about Alpine?”

Your heart stops in your chest. “What?”

“I was telling Sam about how annoying it was trying to work from home. She’d always sit on my damn laptop and yowl in my face until I payed attention to her.” Bucky shakes his head—his bemusement is quick to fade, however. “You seriously thought that I was talking about you?”

Sniffling back tears, you nodded your head.

“Oh, Jesus, doll. Why didn’t you say something?” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “Hell, if I ever said something like that, I’d expect at least a slap to the face.”

“But I was too clingy, always cuddling you and giving you kisses-”

“Is that why you haven’t so much as touched me the last few weeks?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop,”

Bucky squeezes you tighter. “Never. I’d never want you to stop. Doll, I thought you were mad at me. I kept buying you flowers and making your favourite dinners to try and get you to forgive me. But you didn’t even give them a second glance, and half the time you’d already eaten or you’d just push the food around on your plate.”

You melt into his embrace, his reassurances a balm over the lingering anxiety of being too much for him. “I was just trying to make you like me again.”

“Doll,” Bucky pulls away from you, sounding completely gutted. “You should never change yourself to make someone like you more. I love how clingy you are—I missed you so damn much.”

“What about…” No, you can’t ask that—you don’t want to hear his answer. “Never mind.”

And Bucky, damn him, doesn’t let it go. “What about what?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, pulling away from him.

“Doll, please don’t shut me out,” Bucky pleads, using those sad eyes that always make you fold.

“It’s just… You never… Do you have a problem with what I look like?”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “Of course, not. Doll, you are so damn beautiful-”

“But I could be thinner. Lots of other girls are prettier and skinnier,” you interrupt him. You freeze at the way his face hardens.

“I love you just the way you are, sweetheart. You don’t have to change a god damn thing about you. You want to know who drives me crazy? You. You want to know who I want to spend the rest of my life looking at? You. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t want no one else, got it?”

“I…” You stumble over your words, tears burning in your waterline. “I started skipping meals again. That’s why I passed out.”

Bucky’s face turns ashen. “You… you stopped eating because of me?”

“I didn’t completely stop eating! I had snacks and dinner most days. It’s not that big-”

“So help me god if you were about to say that it’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky interrupts you, voice sharp. “You need to eat, doll. This beautiful body cannot live without food.”

“I just thought… I thought if I started skipping meals and working out more, I’d look more like Nat or Sharon or-”

“If I wanted someone that looked like them, I’d ask them out. You wanna know why I asked you out? It’s because I thought you were hot. It’s because you’re as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. I don’t want you to look like Nat, I don’t want you to look like Sharon. I want you to look like you.”

Bucky says it with such conviction, you can’t help but allow the tears to fall down your face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course, babydoll. You’re it for me. Don’t want no one else.” Bucky pulls you back into his arms, nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Call off of work tomorrow.”

“What? I can’t-” You screech as he lifts you into his arms. Clinging to him like a koala as he makes his way to your bedroom, you protest every step of the way.

“Hush,” he says, laying you down on the bed. “I have been deprived of your cuddles for too damn long. We’re gonna order whatever you want, and snuggle all night long. Then tomorrow, I’m going to make you a giant breakfast and we can go on a picnic for lunch.”

“I don’t ever want my best girl doubting my love for her again, got it?” Bucky asks, leaning over you.

You huff at his antics, rolling your eyes. He pinches your side, only the hint of a grin belying his angered expression. “Got it?” Bucky asks again.

“Yes! Okay, I got it!”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how loved you are,” he says as a promise before leaning in and kissing your lips.

That night, as you snuggle into his warmth, you endeavour to never let a misunderstanding like this tear you apart again.

when his hands slid over your ribs and his eyes roamed toward your chest, you moved quickly, cupping his face in both hands and gently pulling it away from your naked body, guiding his focus back to yours. rafe paused, looking confused. a small flicker of irritation crossed his face as he caught your wrists and pulled them from his jaw, holding them in place.

“let me admire you, baby,” he murmured, a little rough, as if denying him the view of you was almost offensive. but your reaction was immediate. you let your hands fall to your tits, covering them completely. and that’s when something in rafe shifted.

the fire in his eyes softened, replaced by concern and he let go of your wrists. “hey…” his voice dropped to a smooth whisper, like he was scared of startling you. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you said too fast, too practiced. you turned your head slightly, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hoping he’d just move past it. but rafe never let things slide, not when it came to you. he knew you. knew that look, that tone. and he didn’t buy it for a second. “talk to me.”

your chest rose and fell, and for a moment you wanted to brush it off again, to laugh and say it was dumb, that you were just tired or something. but his voice had that edge to it. the one he used when he really saw you. the one that made it impossible to pretend.

“i just…” you swallowed hard. your voice was barely a whisper when it came out. “i don’t like how i look right now.” that got his full attention. he didn’t interrupt, didn’t move, he just watched you, waiting. you hesitated, then finally nodded downward, your hands still covering yourself. “these stretch marks. i hate them.”

rafe blinked once, then actually let out a small, breathy laugh. not mean at all, rather surprised. “you’re kidding, right?” he asked, eyebrows raised. but when you didn’t respond, he acted fast. “wait. you’re actually serious.” you gave him a hesitant glance and nodded again, and just like that his expression melted completely.

“oh, baby…” he said, voice thick with affection now. “c’mere.” he reached for your hands, gently coaxing them away from your chest. you resisted, instinctively, but he didn’t push. he just held them loosely, waiting until you let him.

“look at me,” he said softly. “i love your body. every part of it. and those stretch marks? i adore them. i swear to god. you have no idea how sexy i think they are.”

your eyes searched his, looking for even a bit of insincerity. but all you saw was that honest, almost boyish admiration he always had for you. “they’re like… i don’t know. proof that you’re real. womanly as hell. and they’re yours, so they’re beautiful.”

you didn’t know what to say. your throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t shame, it was something gentler. something close to relief. and then rafe leaned in and began kissing every line you had tried to hide. each individual stripe that felt like a flaw to you.

his lips brushed them gently, slowly, one after another. “fucking gorgeous,” he whispered against your soft skin. another kiss. “perfect.”and another. “don’t ever hide from me again.”

the tension in your shoulders released as your hands slid up to rest on his back, your fingers curling against him, not to hide anymore, but to pull him closer. the vulnerability was still there, but the shame was gone, replaced by something warm. and rafe made sure you knew every inch of you was loved.

Stack gives you a look for interrupting him, but you just innocently shrug before motioning for him to go on. 

“I was gonna say that I don’t like to brag, but this is what happens when you don’t let just anyone do stupid shit and get over on you,” Stack tells you. “Them people are just statin’ the facts.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean you did just almost crush a man’s hand for trying to pick up some change you accidentally dropped. Gotta keep up that untouchable facade,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. 

Stack either doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it.

“Damn right,” he nods.

You quickly fold the newspaper up in your hands and swat his arm. Stack just shoots you a wink. 

The two of you are sitting on a bench outside of Mrs. Chow’s shop and keeping an eye on the store and her daughter while she takes care of some errands. And by errands you mean Mrs. Chow is tending to the man’s hand that Stack had tried to crush 30 minutes prior at her husband’s shop across the street. The location of the incident is only a few feet from where you sit.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hot out today, so you didn’t mind waiting, and plus this gives you a reason to spend more time with Stack.

You shake your head in disappointment at Stack’s response, but you can’t help but smile at him unapologetically being himself.

After the twins’ party a few nights ago and after some confessed feelings (Stack confessed first, and you’ll never let him forget it) the two of you decided to take things slow.

Well, more you than him. You don’t have much relationship experience—or life experience, if you compare it to the twins’— so the last thing you want to do is jump into anything. You’re only in your twenties, so what’s the rush? Who cares that a lot of women your age are already married or are in long term relationships? 

Okay, maybe you do, and maybe you also feel like you’re falling behind, but you’re only human. 

When you had debriefed Mary about the situation and your feelings, she had surprisingly taken your side. Usually she would says that you’re just overthinking or being your usual anxious self, but this time she said:

“You’re doing the right thing by not wanting to rush. I mean, look at me. I got married to a businessman that’s always out of town and who knows exactly what or who he’s doin’,” Mary tells you, the two of you sitting on your front porch enjoying the stars.

“Really, you think?” you ask.

“Yeah, really. You don’t have to compare yourself to all of these other women in town because I can guarantee you not all of ‘em are happy,” Mary points out.

You nod along as you begin to think of all the interactions you have seen between couples in the past; some of them happy and obviously in love, and some of them are just…there.

“And what if Stack doesn’t want to wait like I do?”

“Pea, please. How many times do I have to tell you that that man is in love with you? He’ll wait for you, and if he doesn’t then he can go ahead and take his cocky suit-wearin’ ass to hell.”

Mary’s sudden change in tone makes you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you bend over.

“What? I’m serious,” she admits, before joining you.

“Hello? Pea?” you hear Stack’s voice say, bringing you back to the present.

You blink a few times as you notice Stack waving a hand in front of your face. You take a deep breath as you look over at him.

“Sorry, I was just…thinking,” you speak, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Stack’s eyebrows are furrowed. “I can see that. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“It’s nothing important,” you tell him while giving him a small smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Didn’t look like nothing’ from how hard you were statin’ off into space.”

“It’s lady stuff, you don’t wanna know,” you joke, trying to change the subject.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Stack smirks. You just roll your eyes and hit him again with the newspaper in your hands.

You sigh. “Really, it’s nothing,” you wave him off.

You can tell Stack doesn’t fully believe you, but he decides not to pry. Before you start feeling too awkward, you notice Mrs. Chow walking up to the two of you, dusting her hands on her apron.

“Alright, I’m all done. Thanks again for watchin’ the shop f’me,” Mrs. Chow smiles at you, but gives Stack a more firm look.

Stack just gives her a cheeky grin.

“It’s not a problem. Besides, it’s the least we could do,” you smile.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and let the two of you get on with your day. Best get him out of here before he causes anymore trouble,” she says, gently touching you on the shoulder as she walks past you and into her shop.

“Oh, come on, I ain’t that bad,” Stack scoffs at her words, but still keeps that grin on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” you scoff, collecting your bag and fixing your dress as you stand up from the bench.

“What was that?” Stack teases. 

He stands up with you and places his hat on top of his head before he begins poking you in your side.

“Stop,” you laugh at the ticklish feeling, using your hands to try and swat him away. 

You let out a shriek as he digs his fingers into your side, causing some people to look over, but most just mind their business.

“People are looking, stop,” you lower your voice, but there’s a smile on your face as you shove him away.

You hate how giddy he makes you feel. 

“Nah, I heard you say somethin’ smart,” Stack smirks and stays right on your tail as you begin walking away from him. 

“I think you’re hearing things. It’s okay, though, everyone knows you’re not all there,” you snicker.

“Ohh, you think you’re funny, huh,” Stack looks at you in fake astonishment. “That hurts, Pea. You’re ‘posed to be on my side, you know we gotta stick together.”

“And I am on your side,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Well, from what you just said, that’s not what it seems like.”

“It doesn’t matter what it seems like, all that matters is the truth. You should know this.”

“Don’t get smart. This ain’t over.”

“It is, if I say it is.”

“Alright, keep playin’,” Stack chuckles.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you slowly carry on down the road through the town. Stack had offered to drive, but you had declined and told him that a little exercise won’t kill anyone. Stack had just groaned, but he followed behind you anyways when he realized you were serious.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” you ask after a while, your tone hopeful.

Smoke and Stack always used to have dinner at your house when you all were growing up, so much so that you eventually stopped asking them because you knew they would show up. 

“Of course, nothing could keep me from your mama’s cookin’. I thought about it a lot while I was gone,” he says, rubbing his stomach over his clothes.

“Really?” you’re taken aback for a second.

“Really,” Stack nods sincerely.

Before either of you have the chance to say anything else, a man carrying a container loses his footing in front of you along with his hold on the object, causing it to slip from his grasp. Whatever liquid is inside splashes up onto the bottom of your dress as the container hits the ground. 

You gasp as you take a step back while looking down at your clothes. Some people passing by turn to look at the cause of the commotion.

You hate nosy people. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to,” the man frantically apologizes, his eyes wide, “My buddy told me not to carry this by myself, but I was bein’ stubborn and look where that got me. I shoul-.”

You hold your hand up to cut him off, shaking your head with a small smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Stack making a move to say something, but you quickly place a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, it’s okay,” you tell him softly, giving him a look to let him know you’re serious.

Stack hesitates as he looks down at you. His body is tense and his jaw is tight, but once he sees your face, he takes a deep breath before looking away from the scene in front of him.

When you look back at the man in front of you, you see the uneasiness on his face as he notices Stack standing next to you.

“I really am sorry, ma’am. I meant no disrespect,” the man  shifts uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it. Like you said, it’s an accident. Besides, I’m sure this isn’t something a little elbow grease can’t fix,” you give the man a reassuring smile, and he nods.

Not wanting to stand there any longer, you give the man one last smile as you walk past him, pulling Stack with you.

“Sorry about the dress,” you say once the two of you are out of ear shot.

Stack had given you the dress a couple of days ago, saying that he felt bad for coming back after all this time without something to give you. You had insisted that you didn’t need anything and that having you and Smoke back in one piece was good enough, but had just ignored you and shoved the dress into your hands.

Stack is confused as he looks at you. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I ruined the dress you gave me.”

“You didn’t ruin it, that piece of shit back there did. You should’ve let me say something to him back there,” Stack grumbles, glancing back at the man in the distance. 

“And say what? He didn’t mean to, Stack. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go. Besides, you already hurt a man earlier, there’s no need for more violence.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, he says, “just know, I would’ve said something if you wanted me to.”

“I know you would’ve, but I didn’t need you to.”

“Okay, Miss independent. You don’t need me no more, I see,” Stack jokes, giving you a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Oh, please. I never needed you, you just never listened and kept weaseling your way into things in the past.”

“And I was just a man tryin’ to handle business,” Stack throws his hands up dramatically and sighs.

“Man? Your voice was still squeaking when you talked,” you snort.

“Hey! That’s not funny, I was in the process of becoming a man,” Stack tells you with a serious face. The two of you share a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I missed spendin’ time with you, Pea.”

You feel your face get warm as you glance down at your feet with a shy smile at his admission.

And I missed you too.

Being around Stack makes you feel like everything only happened yesterday, like no time has passed and the two of you haven’t changed.

He brings a different side of you out. 

God. You sound gross, you sound in love—if this is even what love feels like.

“Well, who wouldn’t miss me?” you tease.

Stack playfully shakes his head with a smile, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around. You’re taken aback at first, but you quickly recover and let him spin you in the middle of the street.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore is twirling you around in the street.

Before the two of you could get too lost in the moment, you hear a female voice call out.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it must be my lucky day. Is that one of the twins I see over there?” the woman’s voice is teasing.

You turn in the direction of the voice and see a gorgeous woman with a bright smile slowly walking over. There’s a hat sitting on top of her neatly styled hair, and she’s wearing a dress that matches her glove and purse. She uses one of her covered hands to shield her eyes from the sun.

You’re not sure if you’re dizzy because of all the spinning or from the way Stack gently rests his hand on your back as he stands next to you.

“It’s my lucky day, which one of the twins are you?” the woman asks, but quickly laughs and adds, “Who am I kidding? I can recognize you from a mile away, Stack.”

You’re confused at first, thinking that this was some random stranger walking up to the two of you, but as you look up at Stack, you can tell by the smile growing on his face that he recognizes the woman.

“Liza? What the hell are you doin’ in Mississippi?” Stack asks. His hand leaves your back as he leaves your side to go hug the woman—Liza. 

Your mood shifts a bit. 

“Sightseeing, although there’s not that much to see,” Liza giggles.

“Sightseein’ my ass, what are you really doin’ out here?” Stack asks as he pulls away.

“My father’s in town handlin’ some business, and I decided to tag along because why not? I remembered you mentioning’ something about you bein’ from Mississippi, but I didn’t think I’d actually run into you,” Liza grins up at Stack. Then, she finally notices you standing over to the side. “Look at you being rude, Stack. Who’s your friend?”

Friend.

Stack moves to put his arm around your shoulder, not on your back like it was a few moments ago, but around your shoulders. “This is Pea, she grew up with me and Smoke. We go way back.”

He didn’t correct her. It’s not like he’s supposed to, though, the two of you aren’t official. It still hurts.

“Pea?” Liza asks with furrowed brows.

“It’s a nickname,” you explain, to which she nods.

“It’s sweet that you guys have stayed close after all this time.” Liza holds her hand out for you to shake. “I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liza, I guess you could say that that’s my nickname. It’s nice to meet you.”

So cheer-y.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Her hands are soft, her fingernails are nicely manicured, she smells amazing, and she looks even better up close. There has to be something wrong with her, she’s too perfect.

Then Liza’s bright smile changes into a gasp as she looks down, “Oh, honey, you got a little somethin’ on your dress.”

Your heart drops. “Oh, it’s nothing. I ran into someone earlier and they spilled this on my dress,” you respond, glancing down at the spot still on your dress.

For a moment, you had forgotten all about it.

Now, you suddenly feel hyper-aware of your appearance in comparison to Liza’s. Here she is looking all elegant from head to toe, and then here you are with a stain on your dress. Stack’s dress. A dress you had felt so confident in an hour ago, but not now as you stand in front of Liza.

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you are.

Why couldn’t she have popped up earlier before everything happened?

“What a shame, it looks like a lovely dress despite the stain. I know someone who can remove almost anythin’ if you’re interested?”

“I think I’ll manage, but thank you, though,” you offer a kind smile.

“Of course,” she tells you, before turning her attention back to Stack. “I gotta go, but I’ll be in town for a couple of days, so we should get together before I leave. I’m sure my father would love to see you.”

Your eyebrows are raised as you look between the two. 

“I don’t think your old man would be too happy to see me after I won that game against him,” Stack chuckles.

“Oh, please, I’m sure he’s over it. Besides, I think he was more impressed than anythin’. Think about it at least?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect,” Liza claps. She turns to you to say, “It was really great to meet you.”

You watch as Liza leaves, her confidence obvious in the way she walks in her heels. Why are you surprised, she’s just the type of woman Stack would go for. 

-

You’re not as excited for dinner as you should be, given the fact that it’s Stack’s first time in your house in years. You hate how much that Liza girl had affected your mood for the day. 

After washing your dress and successfully getting the stain out, you changed into a new one for dinner, although it didn’t really matter. You’re pretty sure you hung your appetite up alongside your dress on the clothesline. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to eat, you were apparently still in the mood to laugh. You couldn’t help the noises that left you as your mother and Stack shared memories from over the years. 

Your mother went on a tangent summarizing everything that Stack had missed out on concerning the whole town. She told him about how boring the stories the women at church told in his and Smoke’s absence, but also how a lot of people in town missed them even though they would never admit it to twins’ faces.

Stack enlightened her on his adventures with his brother, but you could tell when he was leaving out some details or changing them to spare your mother.

After dinner, when Stack had asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him outside, you had declined and told him that you weren’t feeling too well—which wasn’t a complete lie.

You just needed some time to yourself to think.

-

A few days later, Stack hadn’t seen or heard from you since that night.  At first, he just thought you were still feeling under the weather from dinner, but as time passed that just didn’t seem likely. 

Stack didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was going crazy. He had just gotten you back and the two of you were making progress, but then poof. You’re gone. 

Was it something he had done? 

You told him wanted to take things slow, but did he somehow move too fast? Was he laying on too heavy with the flirting? Did you not like when he twirled you around in the street?

And why the hell did he twirl you in the street? Who was he? Better yet, who were you making him become? 

He was different when he was around you, but he liked that, didn’t he?

Stack asked around for you during the gatherings at the Juke Joint, and most people would say that they had spoken to you earlier in the day or they had passed by you in town. Cornbread, Slim, Sammy, Smoke, and Annie hadn’t seen you either.

Yesterday, Stack had run into Mary after she had gotten off at the train station. When he asked her about you, she was confused because she had figured you’d be spending most of your time with Stack while she was gone. She didn’t tell Stack any of that, though, and instead told him that she was sure that you’re fine.

To anyone else, Stack seemed like his usual witty and firm self, but it was obvious to Smoke and Annie that something was off about him.

Annie wanted Smoke to say something to his brother, but talking about feelings was never Smoke’s strong suit. 

So, he made Annie do it.

“Word on the street is you’ve gone soft,” Annie smirks at Stack, her voice gentle and teasing as she casually walks up to Stack.

Stack was leaning with his back against the bar with his arms folded across his chest as he watched people move around the dance floor.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” Stack lets out a humorless laugh, keeping his eyes in front of him.

“The streets,” Annie jokes. Stack gives her an unimpressed look, but Annie keeps her smirk as she comes to stand next to him and mimics his stance. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” Stack’s face contorts.

“Boy,” Annie scoffs, “try tellin’ that to someone who doesn’t know you.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you that nothin’ is wrong with me.”

Annie raises an eyebrow as she turns her body to face him. “Mhm. So why have you been walkin’ around here all sad and lookin’ like you got a stick up your ass?”

Stack breathes out a frustrated sigh as his jaw tenses. “What the hell do you want, Annie?”

“I want you to tell me what’s got you actin’ like this. Your brother notices it, too, but he just didn’t wanna say anythin’ so I am.”

Stack looks over at Smoke in the distance leaning against a pillar as he watches with a smile as Slim performs.

What a pussy.

“We can stand here all night gettin’ absolutely nowhere, or we can just get to it. The choice is yours. That hard-headed brother o’ yours is just as stubborn as you, so this little facade you got goin’ on doesn’t phase me one bit.”

Stack lets out a sigh and doesn’t say anything, but Annie notices the slight flicker of emotion in his face, so she keeps talking.

“Is it Pea?” Annie questions, even though she already knows the answer. 

This makes Stack whip his head towards her. Annie smirks.

“What, you don’t think I notice how upbeat you’ve been lately? I can put two and two together. Plus, I saw you in town with her the other day while I was grabbin’ some ingredients. Now here you keep askin’ around about her because she ain’t here by your side, which is why you look like a puppy dog who got kicked,” Annie continues.

Stack isn’t a fan of the puppy comparison but chooses to ignore it. “So you saw that, huh?” he asks.

“Yes. Now, what’s wrong? Did you guys get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No, we didn’t. She’s avoidin’ me for no reason.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a reason,” Annie scoffs.

“Well, if there is, I obviously don’t know what the fuck it is! You just said you saw us in town and seen for yourself that everythin’ was fine, but apparently not, and I’m over here goin’ damn near crazy.” Stack does his best to keep his voice down but doesn’t do a very good job.

Annie, being used to the twins’ reactions, lets Stack’s outburst wash over her like nothing. If anything, this tells her how much Stack cares for you, and not just as in a bestfriend way.

“Use that big head o’ yours and think. Did she say somethin’ to you to let you know that she was upset? Was she actin’ different later that day? Did anythin’ at all happen that she seemed fine with in the moment but could upset her?”

Stack rolls his eyes, thinking to himself that there’s no way he’s going to figure this out. Then, as he goes back into his memories to recall that day with you for what seems to be the 100th time, it clicks.

-

While Stack was receiving an insightful pep talk from Annie, you were getting one from Mary. 

The two of you were sitting at your dining table drinking tea that your mother had just made, and you were planning on not telling her anything and just start rambling about whatever comes to mind, but Mary had other plans.

“So, what’s this I hear about Stack not bein’ able to find you? What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” Mary asks you.

“How do you know that?”

“I saw him yesterday at the train station, and he came up to me and asked about you. I didn’t say anything, of course, but what the hell happened while I was gone? Did things change?”

You don’t look up at her and instead fidget with the spoon inside of your cup.

“Pea, come on. Don’t make me sit here all night because I will, and you know I will,” Mary tells you, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. 

So you tell her everything—from spending the day with Stack to meeting Liza, who is probably one of Stack’s one night stands, in a ruined dress.

“I’m sorry, that bitch said ‘honey’ to you?” Mary is taken aback. 

You quickly shush her and glance back towards the kitchen where your mother still was. Yeah, you’re a grown woman, but it just seems weird to have someone come into your house and swear around her. 

Mary just waves you off and tells you to keep going. She knows your mother loves her and mostly likely won’t say anything.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she meant it in a snarky way or if she was just saying that because it’s something she always says,” you point out.

Mary gives you a ‘really’ look. “Trust me, if everythin’ happened like the way you just told me, then this Liza girl was bein’ exactly how you think she was. Don’t let that woman get to you, if anything, you’re the one that got to her.”

“And what makes you say that?” You scoff.

“Because she felt the need to point out that something was wrong with your dress, and I don’t care how kind or gentle her tone seemed, she didn’t mean it in a friendly way. I would never do somethin’ like that to you, ‘specially not in front of a man.”

You stare into space as you think about it for a moment. “I guess you’re right, but I still don’t understand why she would feel threatened by me. I mean, you didn’t see her. She was gorgeous and I’m just…me. It would make sense if the two of them were ever together.”

“Don’t you dare,” Mary tells you as she sits back up in her chair. “Don’t you dare start puttin’ yourself down like that. So what, I wasn’t there to see Liza. Any woman who is ugly on the inside looks just the same on the outside in my eyes.”

 “Well, I’m not putting myself down…I was just telling it how it is,” you shrug.

Mary holds her hand up to stop you. “Don’t even try me. You might not realize it, but that’s exactly what you’re doin’, Pea.”

You open your mouth to speak, and Mary quickly shuts you down with a look.

“I’ve known you your whole damn life, and I’ll be damned if I let some random woman come here and tear you down after only knowing you for five whole seconds. Don’t let me run into her because who the hell does she think she is?”

You can’t help but smile at your best friend’s choice of words. Her tone might seem aggressive or intense, but deep down you know anything that she says comes from love. 

You hear a faint “that’s right” coming from behind, which makes you turn your head only to catch your mother peeking from behind the wall.

“Ma!” you gasp. 

Your mother holds her hands up in surrender as she smiles. “Sorry I ain’t mean to eavesdrop. I won’t do it no more, I promise. Carry on,” she tells the two of you. 

She sends Mary a wink before leaving. When you turn back around to face Mary, she’s looking back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

“What, your mother knows best and obviously agrees because she knows I’m tellin’ you nothin’ but the trust,” Mary laughs.

“Oh whatever. Don’t make me kick you out.”

“But, as I was sayin’, there’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with you, and the fact that Stack is still choosin’ you after travelin’ the damn planet should tell you everythin’ you need to know.”

“We’re not even official yet, so he didn’t exactly choose me,” you counter.

Mary dramatically throws her hands up. “How about you stop guessin’ about all of this and let Stack decide for himself. Just ask that man, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.”

You let out a sigh. “I guess. I can’t exactly avoid him forever,” you suppose and Mary nods.

“Exactly. So this means you’ll talk to Stack tomorrow then, right?” Mary raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right,” you nod, giving her a small smile

-

Two days later, you still haven’t talked to Stack. 

You know that you told Mary that you would, you just…haven’t gotten around to it–and by that, you mean you’ve been tryin’ your hardest to avoid both Stack and Mary. 

It’s obvious you can’t carry on like this much longer because your mother keeps giving you this look like she wants to say something, but she never does. 

You’re starting to feel a little guilty about this whole situation, but to be honest, Mary should’ve known that you weren’t going to march right up to Stack and demand that he tell you that you’re the only woman for him.

And Mary did know this, which is why she was currently bursting through the front door of your mother’s shop, with a clear attitude on her face.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Mary asks as she crosses her arms, her purse dangling from one of her hands.

Your eyes widen as you curse under your breath. The customers that were in the shop, turned their heads at the sudden commotion. 

The woman you were currently ringing up, Mrs.Lenetta, a close friend of your mother’s, looks between you and Mary before shaking her head. She’s been around long enough to not be surprised by Mary and her ways.

Besides, Mary is only comfortable causing a ruckus like this because she knows most of the people in the area. You honestly shouldn’t even be surprised.

You quickly finish up with Mrs. Lenetta, giving her an apologetic smile, before coming from behind the register and walking up to Mary.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask her with a hushed voice. 

You grab her arm to push her outside, but she moves out of your grasp. You look behind you and see the customers no longer caring and going back to browsing.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell am I doing’? What are you doing? First, you avoid Stack, but now you’re avoidin’ me? That won’t do. This is gonna get settled once and for all right here, right now.”

“I know, and I’m sor- Wait, what do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows.

Before Mary has a chance to answer, you hear your mother’s voice announce, “Alright, everyone, I’m sorry to do this to ya, but I’m gon’ have to close up a little early.”

You whip your head around to see your mother coming out from the backroom and standing behind the counter.

Your mother rarely closes up the shop early, so she either has to be close to dying or she won some kind of lottery to do it now.

Mr. Gibbs, an older man and frequent customer, starts grumbling to himself, but your mother comes up to him with a kind smile and reassures him that he can come back anytime as she guides him out the door.

“What’s going on?” you look from your mother to Mary, but neither of them give you an answer.

Your mother waits for the last customer to walk out the door, before she finally turns to you.

“Mary’s right, honey. This has to end.”

“Are you serious? Is this some kind of intervention?” you scoff and turn to head to the backroom, but your mother stops you.

“Not so fast”

You turn around with a confused look on your face, which doesn’t change as you watch Mary go to pull the shop door open.

Then Mary leans out to say, “Come on in.”

You feel yourself begin to sweat, before you even see him, the small smirk on Mary’s face making it obvious who's waiting right outside. 

Your mouth opens and you subconsciously hold your breath as you look at your mother, shaking your head in disbelief on how she could do something like this to her own daughter. Your mother gives you an unapologetic look as she claps her hands together in front of her.

Is it too late to make a run for it? Maybe you can quickly make it out the back door. Maybe you can hide? Or better yet, make the ground could just open up and swallow you whole to avoid all of this.

It’s when you finally see all of him as he steps through the door that your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

Stack Moore.

“Evenin’ ladies,” Stack greets, taking off his hat and calmly placing his empty hand into his pocket as he steps further inside. He gives your mother a nod, before his eyes land on you.

There’s no anger or disappointment behind his eyes from what you can see, just curiosity and his usual charming smile.

“We’ll give you two some time to talk,” Mary looks you in the eye as smirks and walks out.

You know hate is a strong word, but that’s just how you feel towards her right now, even if you know you’re going to eventually forgive her.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Your mother hums in agreement, before she leans in to whisper, “Close y’mouth, dear.”

You shoot her a glare as she backs away with a knowing grin, but you do close your mouth.

Your eyes follow her as she walks out of the shop and closes the door behind her. Even as you're left alone in silence with Stack not too far from you, you still keep your eyes on the door, not yet ready to look at him.

Stack’s eyes haven’t left you once, watching as you avoid him and shift under his stare. He notices the slight shine on your forehead from the thin layer of sweat forming and the way you fidget with your fingers, both tells of your nervousness.

Stack moves casually and begins to walk around the store, taking his time as he takes in everything. Things have changed since the last time he’s been here, and a sense of pride and respect filling him as he sees how much progress you and your mother have made over the years.

He doesn’t touch anything as he looks, keeping one hand in his pocket and the other holding his hat. The sound of his steps coming in contact with the wooden floorboards seem amplified with the silence surrounding the two of you.

You find your gaze shifting to the floor in front of you, suddenly becoming really interested in the old and worn floorboards that have needed to be fixed for a while. Maybe it’s finally time to get them fixed. 

Better yet, maybe one of the floorboards will cave in and help you get out of this situation.

“Long time no see, Pea,” you hear Stack say, still walking around. “It’s obvious why I ain’t seen you around in a while–”

It is?

“–You’ve had to help run a family business, and y’know I know a thing or two about businesses. It ain’t easy, I understand. You have to build relationships with the customers and make sure they know they can trust you so they come back–”

Where is this going?

You’re still looking everywhere but him.

“-Communication is an important tool to being successful, and it’s obvious that you and your mama already understand that part–”

Okay?

“–So I think you can understand why I’m a little confused on why you feel you can’t communicate with me.” Stack ends his stroll right in front of you as his rant comes to an end. “What’s up with that?”

There it is.

Stack looks at you with an expectant look on his face, his eyebrows raised as he waits for you to speak.

“How’d you even know I was here?” you grumble, taking a step back as you suddenly feel too close to him.

“Mary told me. She and your mama got together and said that I should meet them here because you would be working.” You huff out a laugh because of course they did. “Come on, Pea. I asked you a question.”

You honestly don’t know what to say because there’s not much that you can say, except for the truth. Your mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again as you try to find the right words to say.

You get frustrated and finally throw your hands up in the air. “I just–I don’t know, okay. I needed some time to myself…to think.”

“To think? Think about what? It’s been days, Pea.”

Stack follows you as you move to tidy up the front of the store. You’re behind the check out counter and Stack stands in front of you on the other side. He lays his hat down and leans onto the counter.

“Everything. Life. Me. Us.”

“Us?” Stack furrows his eyebrows. He watches as you clean the counter, but his patience begins to run low, so he snatches the rag you were using out of your hand. “What’s goin’ on, Pea? Talk to me.”

You think back to what Mary had told you; about how there’s no point in stressing over all of this and how you should just come clean to Stack because he chooses you. 

So, you decide to listen to her advice, and quickly spit it out before you have a chance to chicken out.

“Do you really want to be with me?” you ask. After hearing yourself say it, though, you hate how sad your words sound. You fold your arms across your chest as a defense mechanism.

Stack is visibly taken back. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I wanna be with you, you think I would be goin’ through all of this trouble if I didn’t?”

Like Mary had said.

“It’s just…” you start, but you trail off.

“This is ‘cause of Liza, ain’t it?” Stack asks, already knowing the answer to it.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“Because the day you met her was the last time I saw you. Somethin’ was off about you after we ran into her.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but after thinkin’ about it, it just made sense.”

“Well, even though she did have an effect on me, she isn’t the main reason for how I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel, Pea, you ain’t tellin’ me anything!”

Just spit it out. 

“I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you breathe.

Stack’s mouth closes as he takes in what you just said. You can see the gears turning in his head as he looks back at you and just blinks. You look away and down at the old counter. 

The shop falls into an uncomfortable silence, only the sounds of both yours and Stack’s breathing filling the space.

When you notice that Stack isn’t going to say anything right away, you continue. “I feel like you could have any other girl in the world because you’re you, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. You’ve travelled the world and you’ve obviously come across many beautiful women, and unfortunately, I find it hard to believe that you’re choosing me after everything and everyone  you’ve experienced. Yes, Liza is gorgeous, and yes, I felt—and still feel—that she is the better choice for you.”

Stack’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you.

“We’ve been best friends since day one, so it’s only understandable that we’ve remained close  after all this time.” You pause for a second, before continuing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I know what my feelings toward you are, but I want to know if you’re feelings are because you actually see a romantic future with me, or if you’re choosing to be with me because I’m a safe option and it’s what everyone expects.”

You take a deep breath after you finally spill what’s been plaguing your mind. Part of you feels relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted over your shoulders, and the other part of you is full of tension and anxiety as you wait for Stack’s response.

You suddenly feel hot again after revealing your feelings, making you wipe your forehead. You wish he would just hurry up and say something.

Stack stands across from you not knowing where to begin.

“Is this how you’ve always felt, like you ain’t good enough f’me?” Stack’s voice is quiet as he speaks, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard him like this. 

“I wouldn’t say always, but lately, yeah.”

“Pea,” Stack shakes his head, “why on earth would you think somethin’ like that? Have I done somethin’ to make you think that? Did someone say  somethin’ to you because if they did, just tell me who–.”

You put your hand up to stop him from going further. “No, no. No one said anything or did anything. This is…all me.”

Stack lowers his head to try and catch your eyes. “Then help me understand because from where I’m standin’, no one else stands a chance against you.”

And hearing those words come from his mouth in that sincere tone that he doesn’t just use on anyone, makes you hold your breath as you stare back at him. You feel something grow in your stomach and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Stack pushes himself off of the counter and walks around to where you are behind it, holding your gaze the entire time. Your heart rate picks up again and your throat goes dry as he comes closer. You naturally take a few steps back as he comes to stand in front of you, but you only end up backing yourself into the edge of the counter. 

Stack uses this to his advantage and grabs your hands to hold in his. He’s not letting you get away again without a fight.

“You say you’re a ‘safe option’ because of our history, but that’s not how I see it. Yeah, I’ve been across the world, but that don’t mean I was fuckin’ women left and right the whole time. Yeah, women came up to me, but that don’t mean I gave every single one of them the time of day. Now, I will admit that I did sleep with three women throughout those years, but that don’t mean that I felt anythin’ for ‘em. Liza was not one ‘em either; Smoke and I just used her to get close to her father, and she obviously keeps gettin’ her hopes up. Smoke and I kept each other grounded while we were gone.”

A breath leaves you after hearing Stack admit to not sleeping with Liza. You can't even blame Liza because, who wouldn’t?

“You may think that you’re not as ‘beautiful’ as any other woman you might see, but that’s not how I feel, Pea. You’re more attractive than most of the women I’ve encountered, and I ain’t just sayin’ that to make you feel better, I’m tellin’ you this because it’s how I really feel. It’s my truth. You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind, and damn near perfect.”

A smile grows on Stack’s lips as he watches you laugh at him calling you perfect. It’s a word you’ve never used to describe yourself, only others. He knows you’re going to object to the fact when he sees you open your mouth, so he jokingly tightens his grip on your hands as he continues.

“You don’t know how hard it is to come across a woman like you anywhere else, and even if she’s somewhere out there, I don’t want her ‘cause I already have you. Everythin’ that makes you you is what makes you beautiful. You’re in a league of your own, baby.”

That’s the first time Stack has called you ‘baby’, and apparently your legs know too because they feel like jello underneath you. You don’t know how you’re going to get through this.

It’s definitely hot in here, right?

Stack releases the hold he has on your hands to place them on either side of your face. You feel like your feet are stuck to the ground as Stack comes even closer into your personal space. As much as you want to pull away, everything about him is keeping you near.

“Now, I only agreed to take things slow because that’s what you wanted, and y’know I wouldn’t do anythin’ to make you uncomfortable, but, Pea, I am so serious about you. Of course, I see a future with you, I want you by my side at all times because you’ve changed me. You don’t know how crazy I was goin’ after not hearin’ from you all that time. I hate to admit it, but I damn near lost my mind, and I don’t wanna go through that again if I can help it. I love you, Pea–”

And just like that, all of your thoughts seem to leave your mind to allow you to fully focus on what Stack has just confessed. 

“–and, yeah, I always have, but this is different. I don’t know how else to convince you or what else to say except for that I love you,” he repeats. “I always have and I always will. You ain’t gotta say it now ‘cause I know how you feel about–”

You don’t think as you cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. 

Both of you are shocked by your sudden boldness; you eyes widen and you freeze when you realize what you’ve just done, and you hear a startled noise leaves Stack.

Just as you go to pull away, Stack says, “Nah, where’re you goin’? You can’t just do that and not finish it,” before closing the space between you once again.

This time, you allow yourself to melt into him as he wraps his arms around you and presses against your back, pulling you further into his chest as your lips move against his. 

Your arms make their way around his shoulders to pull him down by the neck, and you feel Stack back away slightly to laugh at this, his breath fanning against your face, before smashing his lips back into yours.

To anyone looking in on the outside, the kiss might seem rushed, but you and Stack know that this is from both of your combined feelings that have been pent up over time; from your insecurities being silenced by Stack’s confessions and admissions; from the tension that’s been growing and overflowing in Stack’s body now being released.

It’s impossible for you and him to get any closer, but that doesn’t stop you guys from trying as you both continue to grab and pull one another. 

Stack ends up pushing your back against the edge of the counter even more, and any other time the pressure would be uncomfortable, but, right now, you couldn’t care less.

When your lips finally disconnect, Stack leans his forehead against yours for a moment while the two of you catch your breath, before fully pulling away.

“I love you, too,” you shyly confess, and to this Stack grins.

“I choose you, Pea, I always will,” Stack assures, and his tone leaves no room in your mind for doubt.

His hands are on your waist, but one of them leaves to grab ahold of one of your hands again. He dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and he smirks when he sees you rolling your eyes.

You let out a fake dramatic sigh. “I guess, we’re stuck together.”

Yeah, he has gone soft, but he doesn’t care.

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"Am," you nodded, inhaling longly, before letting it all out in one soft exhale. "You're just so comfy," you murmured, curling into him, your cheek mushing onto the fabric of his shirt. you stationed your arm over his hard stomach, clinging your thick thigh around his muscular leg, finally settling even if your glasses stuck out awkwardly from its place perched on your nose.

he used his free hand to take your glasses, closing the legs and settling them onto his nightstand, next to the ashtray that had a long dead cigarette butt. the rough pads of his fingers found you again, his thumb tracing the apple of your perfectly round cheek, creeping up under your closed eye. his lips, small, pretty, and plump and always somehow pulling all breath from you slowly lifted into a smirk, lazy and content.

"Am I now?" he asked, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Mhm," a quiet little hum responded. "You smell nice," you continued. "Usually do," he retorted. "Mm, sometimes," you chuckled teasingly.

a pinch to your cheek.

"Hey!" you complained, opening your eyes and looking up at him. "Wha'?" he grinned down at you innocently. "What do you mean 'what'?" you asked, a smile forming. "That hurt!" you whined. "Agh, big baby," he patted the spot he pinched, simply pulling you closer until your faces were close to each other. a breath apart, his roman curved nose almost brushing your, your lips near his, eyes locked onto you.

his beefy arm now laid over your waist, his hand on your back to keep you close.

to have his eyes right up close, seeing each and every shade of raw, fertile earthy brown, rich and lively. and his hair, the golden ashen blonde that sits on top of his head, recently groomed by you since he didn't like how the barbershops around have done it before. thick, bushy eyebrows, a few blemishes and scars here and there but it only added to his character.

"You're starin'," he called out.

"So are you."

silence. and then a huff of laughter.

"You're too smart f'me, sweetheart," he huffed, bringing his hand and covering your face, playfully pushing your head aside. you laugh, your hands finding his wrist, pulling away with little force, him showing you little resistance.

"Why're your 'ands so cold?" he asked, wrapping his meaty hand around one of your own. "Am I not keepin' ya warm 'nough?" he shifted your bodies again, your back now pressed firmly against his chest. "Wait—"

"Uh-uh," he shook his head, "Gotta keep my girl warm," his right hand found your stomach, splaying his hand over the fabric on top of your ultra soft, plump flesh. "Si..." you tensed, his hand slowly tracing down.

"Shush, pet," he muttered into your ear, finding the hem of the sweatshirt, slipping his hand in and down your shorts. "Job's to take care of ya," his thick fingers found your neglected mound, caressing your slowly slickening lips.

"Si, y'don't gotta—"

"I wanna," he confirmed, pressing a soft kiss onto your hair. he knew you struggled to release, how it takes you some extra time and foreplay to actually feel something, let alone finish. and never has that bothered him, not once. the most patient man to you—and only to you—he would take every moment with you, give you all the time and care if it meant seeing you in euphoric bliss.

"Be good. Spread 'em f'me," he didn't question but commanded. you did, your breath already stuttering as his hand delved deeper. "Mm, not good enough," he grumbled, starving eyes locking onto your clothed skin. his hand slid out of your shorts, his fingers, already having traces of you, played with the thin fabric.

"Take these off," he playfully pulled on the hem of your shorts, his meaty hand groping your fat thigh, harsh and hungry. "Wanna see my pretty girl," he pressed a few more kisses onto the side of your head, sloppier, needier, ushering you to show yourself off to him.

subduedly and with a little whine, you shuffle out of your shorts, ridding yourself of your panties along with it. anyone could see your thighs, fat and jiggly, the cellulite and stretch marks now visible. the complete opposite of what Simon could ever be. living a life that had cruelly showed him no mercy, battle scars permanently etched onto his skin, you were the softness that he wanted. needed. craved.

finally bare enough to Simon's delight, he latched onto you, immediately getting to work. he started slowly, touching you in the places he knew you liked, gentle grazes to your clit, teasing enough til you started to twitch, let out little noises just for him.

"Tha' good?" his voice was low, a rich deepness that penetrated your brain. "Y-Yeah," you mustered with a simple nod, hearing just how slick you had gotten with just his fingers.

"That's what I like to hear," he praised, his fingers diving into your tight hole. you mewled in surprise, already clamping around him, so wet and lubricated for Simon to start in a medium pace, giving you more with each passing moment. the pads of his fingers stretched you, catching onto that gooey spot inside. just his to reach into. your back arched up, breath uncontrollable and those gorgeous, heavy lidded eyes looking up straight at him.

the hand of the arm of which you laid on, the one that had his whole sleeve of tattoos, had suddenly found your heating skin, its heaviness perching onto your sternum right over your breasts. the warmth of his large palm bled through fabric, only luring you further in to the man that is Simon.

"Keep lookin' at me, pretty," he chuckled, pulling out more of those sweet, intoxicating noises out of you. "Yeaah, my girl. My perfect, pretty girl," he purred, his left hand rising to your neck, playing as your collar. a dark chuckle left him when you squeezed around his fingers, a long cry escaping your lips, watching you closely as a glaze settled over your eyes.

"Didn't take long now, did it?" he asked, looking too cocky and arrogant. "Am the only one who can make this pretty, puffy pussy sing, aye? Make it cream and cover my fingers?" he slid his fingers out, bringing your mess close to your face. your slick covered the entirety of his middle and ring fingers, down to his knuckles and palm, his other fingers not gone unmarked by you.

his hand found its place again, slipping right back inside and stimulating you all over again. a choked gasp left you, squirming under him, thighs threatening to close around his wrist. "Mhm, that's what I thought," he smiled, his left hand giving a small squeeze around your neck. a cry left your parted lips, your cheeks so red from embarrassment and pleasure.

"Only I can make you cum. Only I can give you this," he uttered darkly over you, solely focused on you. everything about you. how your eyes gleam, your lips red and shiny. each and every breath you take. the uneven pace of your heart with his thumb on your pulse point.

"You're close," he felt your walls starting to twitch and spasm, how your mouth dropped further and louder moans left from the deep in your chest. he kept his pace consistent, steady, hitting all the right spots and stretching you so deliciously you couldn't resist. "C'mon, pet. Know you can do it," he huffed into your ear, both your gazes dropping to where his right hand disappeared inside of you.

"C'mon, cum fer me. Cum for your loving boyfriend," he moaned into your ear, his already hard dick poking on your bare ass. "Just want was good f'you," he fed you, his words rattling in your lust drunk mind. "Always gonna take care of ya. My girl," his fingers went faster, pitchy cries escaping you.

you blacked out for a moment, your body tensing and twitching when euphoria captured your every nerve. your nails dug unto his skin like claws, riding out every second of your orgasm.

Simon gradually slowed down as you cried in overstimulation, slipping his fingers out of you and coming to place a loving hand over your mound, covering it. everything was warm, heated, every fiber lit up like a torch. Simon, the spark.

you finally took a breath of relief, life coming back into your eyes, your body. spent, sensitive, sweat shining your skin and your slick between your fat thighs. "Christ," you mumbled out, your voice gone quiet, slowly turning to look at him.

you in all your glory.

"Not quite but close enough," he chuckled, left arm wrapping around your plush torso and pulling you up, turning you towards him til your thick thighs stretched wide to sit across his lap. his hands slid under his your sweatshirt, caressing your body. he started at your hips, letting his thumbs trace over where you stomach met, protruding. that poor tummy that was barely shown any love. don't worry, lovie, i'll give you all of it. he uttered those words to you the first time he took you to bed, would do it again every day.

the trailed up to your waist, digging into all the flesh, every roll that decorated you. the epitome of beauty, of love. someone taken care of.

"All'a you is all fer me, right?" he asked with a primal hunger that rattled you to your core. to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. all his to love. "Mhm," you nodded timidly, acting as if he didn't just have his fingers digging in you.

"Nah, need words, pretty," he shook his head, those brown eyes of his roaming all over your face, memorizing you, from the shape of your brows to the shape of your lips.

"It's all for you," your whisper grazed his chin, words for only for his ears and his alone. "Everythin'," you murmured, shifting to comfortably straddle him. Simon smiled, bringing his hand to your soft jaw, pulling your lips closer to his.

"My girl," uttered out from his lips, finally pressing his warm lips against yours.

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