My Sims Sweet Escape

This is my sims tumblr where I will share my digital love life with the Sims 2, I will post stories, downloads of sims and houses, and Pic's of my fav sims! :) (I WOULD LIKE TO ADD THAT SOMETIMES I WILL HAVE ADULT SIM RELATED POSTS ON HERE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

[bellaxgiornata]

List of Installments for Falling For the Devil

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains lots of smut, fluff, angst, humor

Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses.

List of Installments

Part One: "The Night You Met"

Part Two: "The One-Sided Pining"

Part Three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"

Part Four: "The Night You Almost Kissed"

Part Five: "The Wedding Day"

Part Six: "The Wedding Night"

Part Seven: "The Post-Wedding Brunch"

Part Eight: "The First Date"

Part Nine: "The Pool Game"

Part Ten: "The Growing Insecurity"

Part Eleven: "The Night Together"

Part Twelve: "The Week You Tried to Avoid Matt"

Part Thirteen: "The First Time He Walked You Home"

Part Fourteen: "The Time Matt Got Jealous"

Part Fifteen: "The Vulnerable Side of Matt"

Part Sixteen: "The Time You Saved Daredevil"

Part Seventeen: "The Revelation in the Rain"

Part Eighteen: "The Visit to Fogwell's"

Part Nineteen: "The Time You Almost Told Him"

Part Twenty: "The 'I Told You So'"

Part Twenty-One: "The Time You Did Tell Him"

Part Twenty-Two: "The Night You Couldn't Sleep"

Part Twenty-Three: "The Day of Phone Tag"

Part Twenty-Four: "The Devil and the Baker"

Part Twenty-Five: "The Leather Couch"

Part Twenty-Six: "The Big Win"

Part Twenty-Seven: "The Grocery Run"

Part Twenty-Eight: "The Early Morning Wake Up"

Part Twenty-Nine: "The Questions Over Coffee"

Part Thirty: "The Introduction at Clinton Church"

Part Thirty-One: "The Flight to Chicago"

Part Thirty-Two: "The Night He Couldn't Sleep"

Part Thirty-Three: "The Thanksgiving Dinner"

Part Thirty-Four: "The Ex Encounter"

Part Thirty-Five: "The Very Bad Day"

Part Thirty-Six: "The Cozy Night In"

Part Thirty-Seven: "The Bad Dream"

Part Thirty-Eight: "The Black Suit"

Part Thirty-Nine: "The Secret Santa"

Party Forty: "The Secrets in Your Suitcase"

Party Forty-One: "The First Half of the Trip"

Part Forty-Two: "The Argument in the Hotel Room"

Part Forty-Three: "The End of the Trip"

Part Forty-Four: "The Christmas Eve Party"

Party Forty-Five: "The Christmas Dinner"

Part Forty-Six: "The Night of Christmas"

Part Forty-Seven: "The Devil in Need"

Part Forty-Eight: "The Perfume"

Part Forty-Nine: "The Cemetery Visit"

Part Fifty: "The Interview"

Part Fifty-One: "The Devil's Wrath"

Part Fifty-Two: "The Breaking Point"

Party Fifty-Three: "The Downward Spiral"

Part Fifty-Four: "The Impossible Friendship"

Part Fifty-Five: "The Disheartening Valentine's Day"

Part Fifty-Six: "The Nightmare"

Part Fifty-Seven: "The Rough Conversation"

Part Fifty-Eight: "The Aftermath"

Part Fifty-Nine: "The Necessary Conversation"

Part Sixty: "The Long Awaited Kiss"

Part Sixty-One: "The Things You Didn't Know"

Part Sixty-Two: "The Pinky Promise"

Part Sixty-Three: "The Dinner Party"

Part Sixty-Four: "The Lesson at Fogwell's"

Part Sixty-Five: "The Shower"

Part Sixty-Six: "The Night Out"

Part Sixty-Seven: "The Morning in Bed"

Part Sixty-Eight: "The Sleepover"

Part Sixty-Nine: "The Lunch Date Delay"

Part Seventy: "The Thoughts About the Future"

Part Seventy-One: "The Sleepwalking"

Part Seventy-Two: "The Belated Valentine's"

Part Seventy-Three: "The Easter Sunday"

Part Seventy-Four: "The Boy's Night at Josie's"

Part Seventy-Five: "The Hangover"

Part Seventy-Six: "The Request"

Party Seventy-Seven: "The Very Frustrating Day"

Part Seventy-Eight: "The Night You Cooked Together"

Part Seventy-Nine: "The Hell Day"

Part Eighty: "The Revisitation of Moving In"

Part Eighty-One: "The Nighttime Visit"

Party Eighty-Two: "The Overload"

Part Eighty-Three: "The Really Bad Idea"

Part Eighty-Four: "The Late Night Snack Hunt"

Part Eighty-Five: "The Romantic Voicemails"

Part Eighty-Six: "The Moving Day"

Part Eighty-Seven: "The Week of Distractions"

Part Eighty-Eight: "The Birthday Brunch"

Part Eighty-Nine: "The Stray"

Part Ninety: "The Ring"

Part Ninety-One: "The Helping Hand"

Part Ninety-Two: "The Recurring Nightmare"

Part Ninety-Three: "The Unexpected Introduction"

Part Ninety-Four: "The Offer"

Part Ninety-Five: "The Evening of Insecurity"

Part Ninety-Six: "The Quiet Morning at Home"

Part Ninety-Seven: "The Rooftop" {Coming Soon}

[belleeebelleee]

Bucky Barnes (Marvel) x fem!reader

Bucky learns that the best way to help you calm down when you're spiralling in a pit of anxiety is to lie on you like a weighted blanket. Which would be fine, if he wasn't so damn in love with you.

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Not a cute accident. Not one of those romantic comedy accidents where someone trips and lands in another person’s lap while soft music plays in the background.

No.

It happens because you are halfway to a panic attack in the kitchen of the compound at two in the morning, shaking so hard you drop a mug hard enough to shatter it across the tile floor.

And because Bucky Barnes has spent the better part of a century reacting to danger before thinking, he moves before his brain catches up.

The mug breaks.

You gasp.

And then suddenly you’re crouched on the floor with your hands clamped over your ears like the sound physically hurt you.

“Hey,” Bucky says immediately.

Too sharp.

Too fast.

Your shoulders jerk violently.

His stomach drops.

“Sorry,” he says, softer now. “Sorry, doll. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You don’t answer.

That’s what scares him.

You always answer.

Even anxious, even exhausted, even spiralling—you answer.

Usually with a joke. Usually with something self-deprecating and wry and designed to make everyone else comfortable while you quietly unravel inside your own skin.

But now you’re breathing too fast.

Your eyes are fixed on the floor.

And Bucky realizes with cold certainty:

Oh.

Oh, this is bad.

He’s seen panic attacks before. Hell, he’s had enough of them himself. But yours always look different than his. Quieter. Like you’re trying to contain the catastrophe internally so it doesn’t inconvenience anyone else.

“Can you look at me?” he asks carefully.

Nothing.

He crouches slowly several feet away, metal hand deliberately visible, movements gentle.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “That’s okay.”

Broken ceramic litters the floor between you both.

You whisper something he can’t hear.

“What was that?”

Your voice cracks.

“Everything feels wrong.”

Jesus Christ.

That sentence nearly tears him in half.

Because he knows that feeling.

The horrible skin-tight sensation of existing incorrectly. Like your bones are full of bees. Like every thought in your head is moving too fast and too loud and none of them can be stopped.

Bucky swallows hard.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know.”

You sound ashamed of it.

Like not knowing is somehow a personal failure.

His chest aches.

“Okay,” he says again. “That’s alright too.”

Your breathing gets worse.

Shorter.

Faster.

Your fingers dig into your sleeves hard enough he worries you’ll bruise.

Bucky looks around the kitchen helplessly.

He knows combat. Extraction. Interrogation. Trauma. Survival.

But this?

You falling apart in front of him while he desperately tries to figure out how to help?

It scares him more than most things.

“Can you stand?” he asks.

You shake your head immediately.

“No? Okay. Okay.”

Think.

Think.

Usually when you’re anxious, you like warmth. Blankets. Hoodies. Pressure against your chest.

Pressure.

His eyes flick downward thoughtfully.

“Can I try something?”

You laugh once.

It sounds awful.

“Depends how weird it is.”

His mouth twitches despite everything.

“Probably pretty weird.”

You finally look at him then, eyes glassy and overwhelmed.

“Fine.”

He moves carefully around the broken ceramic before lowering himself to sit beside you against the cabinets.

For a second he hesitates.

This could go horribly.

But then he remembers the way you curl under every blanket in the compound during storms. The way you once admitted sleeping better when Alpine sprawled over your ribs like a furry paperweight.

So Bucky exhales once and says:

“C’mere.”

You blink at him.

“What?”

“Just trust me.”

Which you do.

That’s the dangerous thing.

You always do.

You shift toward him uncertainly, and before he can overthink it, Bucky pulls you gently sideways until your back rests against his chest.

Then he wraps one arm around your middle.

And slowly—carefully—leans enough weight against you that you’re partially pinned beneath him.

Not crushing.

Just heavy.

Solid.

Warm.

The effect is immediate.

Your breathing stutters.

Then slows.

Bucky freezes.

You go still beneath him.

“…oh,” you whisper.

His heartbeat trips.

“Too much?”

“No.”

Another breath.

Slower this time.

“No, that’s—”

Your shoulders finally unclench for the first time since he walked into the kitchen.

“Oh my god.”

Bucky stares at the side of your face.

“You okay?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I’m aware.”

“No,” you say weakly. “I mean—good heavy.”

Something inside him softens so violently it nearly hurts.

Carefully, cautiously, he shifts a little more weight against you.

Your eyes flutter shut.

And then—

Then you melt.

There’s no other word for it.

The tension leaves you in visible increments, your body gradually surrendering under the pressure of his weight and warmth. Your breathing evens out. Your death grip on your sleeves loosens.

Bucky can practically feel your nervous system recalibrating beneath him.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” you murmur.

He huffs a quiet laugh.

“Dunno. Maybe you’re broken.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re calmer.”

“…unfortunately true.”

Bucky smiles before he can stop himself.

And because you can’t see his face pressed near your hair, you miss the terrifying realization blooming in his chest.

He likes taking care of you.

Too much.

In ways that feel dangerous.

Because this—holding you down gently against his chest at two in the morning while your breathing evens out—feels more intimate than half the things he’s done with actual girlfriends.

That should concern him more than it does.

Instead, he tightens his arm around you slightly and says softly:

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“Don’t move.”

His heart does something deeply embarrassing.

“Wasn’t planning to.”

After that, it becomes a thing.

Not intentionally at first.

Neither of you discuss it.

But a week later, after a disastrous mission briefing leaves you overwhelmed and shaky, Bucky finds you curled miserably into the corner of the common room couch.

He takes one look at you.

“You spiralling?”

“Maybe.”

“Move over.”

You snort tiredly.

“There is literally no room.”

“I’ll make room.”

And somehow he does.

The others walk in to discover you pinned beneath the bulk of the Winter Soldier like a hostage being gently comforted.

Sam stops dead.

“…what the hell am I looking at?”

Without opening your eyes, you answer:

“Medical treatment.”

Bucky feels you relax further when he settles more weight across you.

Sam stares.

“You’re using Barnes as an emotional support sandbag?”

“Yes.”

“…and this works?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat.

Then Sam points accusingly at Bucky.

“You look way too pleased about this.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Bucky ignores him.

Mostly because Sam’s right.

The horrifying truth is that Bucky likes this arrangement so much it’s becoming a problem.

He likes when you seek him out now.

Likes the sleepy, “Buck?” you murmur from doorways when your anxiety gets bad.

Likes how trusting you are with him.

Likes the way you immediately soften once he presses close.

And he especially likes the fact you never seem afraid of him.

Not of his metal arm.

Not of his size.

Not of the sheer physical reality of him.

You just curl beneath him willingly like he’s safety instead of danger.

It ruins him slowly.

The worst part is how domestic it becomes.

You’re both pathetic enough not to notice immediately.

It starts with movies.

You’re anxious after a rough therapy session, so Bucky sprawls partially on top of you on the couch while some terrible reality baking show plays in the background.

Then it becomes routine.

You reading while he rests against you.

You napping underneath him.

Your legs tangled together while Alpine sleeps smugly on Bucky’s back like she approves of the arrangement.

One night Natasha walks into the living room, sees the position you’re both in, and physically backs out again.

“Nope,” she says immediately.

You blink sleepily from beneath Bucky’s chest.

“What?”

“I’m giving you both privacy to deal with…” she gestures vaguely, “…whatever this is.”

Bucky frowns.

“We’re watching TV.”

Natasha stares at him.

“You’re lying on top of her.”

“To help her anxiety.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s literally all this is.”

Natasha looks directly at you.

“Are you aware he’s in love with you?”

Bucky nearly chokes to death.

You burst into startled laughter.

“What?”

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Men are exhausting.”

Then she leaves before either of you can recover.

The silence afterward is catastrophic.

Bucky can feel heat crawling up his neck.

You clear your throat awkwardly beneath him.

“Well.”

“Nat talks too much.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence.

Then quietly:

“You’re not in love with me, right?”

And there it is.

The moment.

The opening.

The place where honesty could exist.

Bucky should tell you.

He should.

Instead he says, “You’d know if I was.”

It’s a lie.

A terrible one.

Because he is so violently in love with you it feels like organ failure sometimes.

He loves your laugh.

Your stubbornness.

The way you ramble when tired.

The way you pretend your anxiety makes you difficult to love while offering everyone else endless patience and gentleness.

He loves how you trust him with your softest parts.

He loves you so much it scares him.

But you relax at his answer.

And somehow that feels worse.

“Oh good,” you murmur.

His chest aches.

“Yeah.”

You smile faintly beneath him.

“Because that would make this complicated.”

Bucky stares at the ceiling all night afterward unable to breathe properly.

Things get worse after the nightmare.

Not his.

Yours.

Bucky wakes around three in the morning because someone is pounding on his door hard enough to shake the frame.

He’s moving before he’s fully awake.

When he opens it, you’re standing there shaking.

Not crying.

Which is somehow worse.

Your face looks pale and distant and terrified in a way that spikes immediate panic through him.

“Hey,” he says sharply. “Hey, what happened?”

“I can’t calm down.”

Your voice trembles violently.

“I tried—I tried everything and I can’t—”

“C’mere.”

You practically fall into him.

Bucky catches you automatically, metal arm bracing your back while your fingers clutch desperately at his shirt.

Your heartbeat is terrifying.

Way too fast.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

You bury your face against his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I woke you up.”

“I don’t care.”

And he means it.

He’d wake up for you every night for the rest of his life if it helped.

The realization lands hard enough to nearly stagger him.

Before he can think too deeply about that deeply alarming truth, he guides you toward the bed.

“Lay down.”

You obey immediately, exhausted and overwhelmed.

Bucky climbs in beside you without hesitation.

Then carefully—carefully—he settles partially over you, broad chest against yours, one heavy thigh between yours, arms caging you safely beneath him.

The second his weight settles, you exhale shakily.

“There you are,” he whispers.

Your eyes close.

“There you are.”

The room goes quiet except for your breathing gradually slowing beneath him.

Bucky should move once you calm down.

Instead he stays.

Because you’re warm beneath him.

Because your fingers are curled loosely in his shirt.

Because every instinct in his body screams protect protect protect.

And because he’s hopelessly, catastrophically gone for you.

You fall asleep first.

Bucky knows because your grip loosens and your face softens against his shoulder.

He should leave then.

Instead he remains exactly where he is for nearly an hour staring into the dark.

He brushes hair away from your face carefully.

God.

He loves you.

He loves you so much.

And he’s completely fucked.

You realize the truth accidentally.

Which feels fitting.

It happens during a mission debrief after a rough extraction goes sideways.

Nothing catastrophic.

But enough to leave everyone frayed.

You’re wound tight all evening afterward, anxiety clawing under your skin while the team argues over tactical mistakes.

Eventually you stand abruptly.

“I need five minutes.”

Bucky’s up instantly.

“I’ll come with you.”

You don’t even question it anymore.

That should probably concern both of you.

The hallway outside the conference room is quiet.

You lean heavily against the wall, pressing your palms into your eyes.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“For what?”

“I’m being annoying.”

Bucky’s expression hardens immediately.

“You’re not.”

“I’m literally one inconvenience away from imploding.”

“So?”

You laugh weakly.

“So normal people don’t require human compression therapy to function.”

His face softens.

“Hey.”

You look at him.

And Bucky says very carefully:

“There is nothing wrong with needing comfort.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly undoes you.

Your throat tightens unexpectedly.

“You always know how to help.”

The words hit him hard.

Too hard.

Because he does.

He knows your breathing patterns now. Your tells. The difference between stress and genuine panic. He knows exactly how much pressure helps. Exactly where to hold you.

Like your bodies learned each other instinctively.

Your eyes drift across his face.

And suddenly—

Suddenly you see it.

Not all at once.

But enough.

Enough to notice the unbearable tenderness in his expression.

Enough to notice how carefully he handles you.

Enough to realize no one looks at someone they don’t love like that.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

Oh.

Bucky notices immediately.

“What?”

You stare at him.

“You are.”

His entire body stills.

“What?”

“You’re in love with me.”

The silence that follows feels enormous.

Bucky looks almost cornered.

Like you’ve found something he desperately wanted hidden.

Finally, rough and quiet:

“Yeah.”

Your heart stumbles violently.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

A humorless laugh escapes him.

“Because this arrangement only works if you feel safe.”

“I do feel safe.”

“You know what I mean.”

He steps back slightly then, expression tight.

“If I made this weird, I’m sorry. I can stop. I should’ve stopped earlier.”

The thought hits you like physical pain.

“No.”

Bucky goes still.

You swallow hard.

“Don’t stop.”

His eyes search your face carefully.

“Doll…”

“I mean it.”

Your pulse pounds.

Because suddenly everything makes sense.

The gentleness.

The devotion.

The way he always comes when you need him.

And maybe—maybe you’ve been avoiding the truth too.

Because loving Bucky feels terrifyingly inevitable.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I think maybe I’m in love with you too.”

Bucky looks stunned.

Actually stunned.

Like the words physically knocked the air from him.

“You don’t gotta say that because—”

“I’m not.”

You step closer carefully.

His expression turns painfully vulnerable.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper. “You make my head quiet.”

Something in him breaks open then.

His hand comes up slowly, brushing against your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You have any idea what you do to me?” he murmurs.

Your breath catches.

“No.”

“You ask for me when you’re hurting.”

His forehead rests against yours.

“You trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

Bucky closes his eyes briefly like that means everything.

Because it does.

When he kisses you, it’s careful at first.

Gentle.

Almost hesitant.

Then you kiss him back and suddenly he’s holding your face like something precious, kissing you deep and aching and relieved.

Years of longing pour into it.

You clutch his shirt instinctively.

Bucky makes a soft wrecked sound against your mouth.

And then—

Because apparently neither of you can be normal people—

He murmurs against your lips:

“You anxious right now?”

You burst into startled laughter.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh my god.”

“You want me to lay on you or not?”

You laugh harder, bright and helpless and happy enough it nearly kills him.

“Only if you kiss me again after.”

Bucky smiles then.

Real and warm and breathtaking.

“Deal.”

And later, tangled together in his bed with most of his weight draped over you while your fingers trace lazy patterns against his spine, you realize something quietly extraordinary:

For the first time in a very long time, your mind is calm.

And wrapped around you like armor, like warmth, like home itself—

is Bucky Barnes.

[buckyslilalpine]

You’re Home Now

Summary: Ever since Bucky moved out to the woods, he’d grown used to his routine. He lived comfortably and without anyone around to bother him, and he liked it that way. Then you stumbled your way into his life and changed it forever. Instead of simply helping you and sending you on your way, Bucky starts to like the way you fit right into his life, and he realizes he doesn’t mind the sudden change that came with taking you in. The longer he spends with you, the harder it is to let you go, and luckily for him, the feeling is mutual.

WC: 29.6k | Warnings: 18+, coarse language, fluff, angst, smut, toxic family environment, mentions of abuse, descriptions of injuries, mentions of starvation, running away from home, use of guns, descriptions of hunting, ex military Bucky, shy/inexperienced reader, age gap, unprotected sex, gentle sex, needy sex, use of plan b, oral (f receiving), fingering, pining, size difference, protective Bucky, possessive Bucky, big dick Bucky, beefy Bucky one would say, let me know if I missed anything. | Masterlist

It was hunting season, which didn’t mean much to Bucky since he hunts all the time. Specifically, it was deer season, but despite him being quite successful during this season throughout the five years he’s lived out here, this year was really testing him. 

Either the deer were really shy this season, or there simply weren’t many around this year. He’d had very little luck over the last few days, sitting in the treestand he’d made a few miles away from his house and not seeing much movement in the forest at all. 

Usually by day three he’d have lost count of how many deer that were around, but it was pushing day five and he hadn’t seen a single one. 

Bucky lived, for lack of better words, out in the middle of nowhere. It was secluded, a tedious twenty five minute drive from the nearest town, and the majority of that drive was through the wooded and rocky terrain of the forest. As far as he knew, no one else lived close by, and he hadn’t heard any sounds of guns going off in the woods that would suggest someone else was hunting around the area too. 

He had a feeling this was just one of those unlucky years where the deer population decided to skip over the forest he’d lived in for almost six years now. It was smart, because he’d gotten extremely lucky the last few years with deer, and had enough meat frozen to keep him fed for a long time, so for them to not be around this year was a lucky call for them. 

It was unlucky as hell for Bucky, because that meant he’d have to settle for other options for food, which wasn’t the biggest deal, but still. He’d gotten used to the routine that had sort’ve fallen into his lap the year he’d packed up and moved out here. 

He’d been hunched over in the stand for the majority of the afternoon, and the prime time for deer hunting had long since passed, but he didn’t have anything else to do for the remainder of the day, so he stayed a little longer. 

It turned out that his patience had paid off since he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and when Bucky turned his head, he saw the slow, careful steps of a deer passing through the trees, and he moved just as slowly as he lifted his rifle, being sure to not make a single sound. 

He dipped his head down and peered through the scope, noting the size and weight of the deer, and he knew he’d get a good few weeks of meat off of it to freeze, which was a better score than he thought he’d get at this point. 

The deer hadn’t noticed him, its eyes slowly blinking as it remained blissfully unaware of the rifle pointed at it. It bowed down to nip at the grass scattered all over the forest ground, and Bucky took that as his cue to press down on the trigger, but before he could fire, he heard shuffling to his left, and watched as the deer perked up, clearly having heard the sound as well. 

He tried to ignore it and secure his kill, but then more shuffling was heard, and when the sound of rushed footsteps, followed by the beam of the stand he was currently crouched in shaking with the force of something hitting it, Bucky flinched, his rifle firing off but missing the deer completely. 

He’d been caught off guard, his balance momentarily shifting, and the deer took off running, leaving behind the sound of leaves ruffling and twigs snapping as it disappeared into the distance. 

“Fucking Christ,” Bucky cursed under his breath, then moved over to the side of the stand, peering over the edge and preparing to rip into whoever had interrupted him and scared off his kill. 

What he saw had him freezing in shock, his brows furrowing together as he met your wide, terrified eyes. You looked up at him with nothing but fear on your face, and your chest was heaving with uneven breaths that told him you’d been either running or walking for quite a long time, and by the looks of it, with no water. 

You didn’t say anything as you braced your hand against the support of the stand, your other hand lifted in a way that looked like you were giving up a fight that wasn’t even happening.

There was no denying that you’d been out here for a while, if the dirt staining your clothes and skin was anything to go by. Your hair was messy and he could see dried leaves in it, and your cheeks were stained with sweat streaks, but it wasn’t exactly hot at the moment, so he assumed you had just been running to the point of breaking a sweat, or you had not too long ago. 

Standing up a little straighter, Bucky let his gaze sweep you up and down. There was really nothing to you, your legs all scratched up thanks to your denim shorts, and your shoes were muddy and worn out. Your t-shirt was covered in dirt, and there was a rip in the side of it, a scrape visible along your ribs. But the giant bruise that took up most of your left side was a lot more noticeable than that. 

There were other noticeable bruises on your body, some more faded than others, and he saw a healed scar just under your jaw on the right side of your neck. You looked like you hadn’t slept in days, and your body seemed to be running on the last of its adrenaline as you shook your head. 

You looked scared, like you were horrified of him and what he might do to you. Your lips parted then trembled, like you were struggling to speak as you lifted your hand higher in a pleading gesture, but no words left your mouth as you took a weak, unsteady step forward. 

“Hey,” he called out, concern lacing his tone as he lowered his rifle. Bucky was too high up to do anything about the way your legs buckled, and the way your hand slipped from its place on the beam before you stumbled forward and became completely unbalanced. 

The sound of your head hitting the trunk of the tree had him wincing and instantly putting the rifle down, swinging his legs over the edge of the stand and jumping down. 

His boots hit the ground with a thud, and he immediately crouched down, confusion and concern written all over his face. You were no longer conscious, your body too weak to keep going at this point, and Bucky frowned as he reached forward and brushed your hair out of your face. 

He didn’t recognize you from town, though he supposed he didn’t go there much with the intent to seek out pretty girls. He only went there every once in a while for supplies and to see his family, but he had a feeling he would notice you if he’d seen you before. 

You looked like a mess, your body beaten and bruised and your clothing torn and ruined to the point of almost being unwearable, and Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest. 

What the fuck happened to you?

When Bucky carried you to his house, he discovered that you were extremely light in his arms, and it felt like he was carrying a few bags of groceries rather than a human who appeared to be in her mid twenties. 

He didn’t know what the hell to do with you, but he wasn’t going to just leave you out there. You’d clearly already been through hell, and he refused to turn a blind eye and mind his business when it was so obvious that you needed help. 

It had just started to rain when he began making his way home with you in his arms, and he had a feeling that you would’ve probably died if he’d left you out there, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let that happen.

You were cold, your skin clammy and splotchy, so the first thing Bucky did when he got home was lay you down on the couch, sacrificing the soft throw blanket that was thrown over the back of it, and draped it over you. 

He lowered the strap of his rifle down his arm before setting it aside on the coffee table, then crouched down in front of the couch. You were out cold, your body limp and unresponsive as he examined you a bit closer now that you were safe inside and away from the harsh elements outside. 

Your lips were dark, and he knew you were probably even colder than you felt, your body fighting to keep itself warm in the minimal clothing you were wearing. You didn’t have a bag with you, nor a phone or wallet, so he had no clue who you are or what your name is, or even where you lived. 

He’d never seen you in the woods before this, and by the small silver hoops you had in your ears, it was clear you were from the nicer part of town, which helped make sense as to why he’s never seen you around before. 

But that didn’t answer any of his questions, one being how the hell you ended up all the way out here.

Bucky reached out and brushed your hair out of your face, and he couldn’t deny that you were very pretty. You had a certain innocent look to you, like someone as sweet and fragile as you had no business being out in the middle of the woods, looking like you’d been to hell and back. 

His eyes focused on the gash on the side of your head, and he knew it was from when your head hit the tree and what had caused you to lose consciousness. He guessed you’d been out in the woods for a while, the exhaustion in your bones obvious since you hadn’t moved at all since you passed out on the forest floor. 

He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, where he grabbed the first aid kit he keeps under the sink. As he walked back into the living room, he shrugged out of his damp jacket, setting it aside on a chair as he passed by it, then he was on his knees in front of the couch once again. 

The first aid kit was open on the coffee table, everything he needed messily stored inside of it. He’d been careless a few times during hunting or fishing or wood cutting, resulting in him needing to patch himself up, and he never bothered to tidy up the kit. 

He huffed as he rummaged through the kit in search of peroxide, and he found it a few moments later, then grabbed a cotton pad, pouring some of the liquid onto it. The gash on your head didn’t look too bad, but he also couldn’t see much since you were bleeding. This was one of many injuries he knew was on your body, but it also appeared to be the worst and the easiest one for him to access, so it was his priority at the moment. 

Bucky pressed the cotton to the wound, and the white fabric turned red quickly, the sound of the peroxide sizzling its way into your flesh barely being heard. He cringed, because he knew that would fucking hurt when you wake up, so he tried his best to limit that pain as best as he could. 

After cleaning up the wound, he taped a clean cotton pad to your head that had some sort of healing gel he’d used countless times before on it, then sat back on his knees. He couldn’t see much of you, your shivering body hidden beneath the blanket and your head turned in a way that only allowed him to see half your face. 

Now that he’d cleaned up your head, he had no fucking clue what to do next. Your head would probably be pounding in a few hours, so he stood up to go grab some aspirin and a glass of water, and he set them down on the coffee table. 

Your blood had dried on your face, and for some reason he felt the need to clean that too, so he grabbed a wet cloth, then cleaned you up as well as he could. And then he just simply looked at you. 

There was concern in his eyes, but mainly he was just confused. How did you end up here? What happened? Why were you wearing bruises and marks that seemed like you’d gotten before you ended up in the woods? 

He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, something he had no business feeling for someone he didn’t even know, but he couldn’t help it. You were broken, bruised and in need of help, and you could’ve died had you not stumbled upon him and inadvertently forced yourself into his life. 

Why had you been running? Who were you running from? Were you in danger? Was he in danger now that he’d taken you into his home and rescued you from the woods?

That should’ve had him feeling a little on edge, but as he looked at you and took in the way you already looked a little more relaxed as you slept on his couch at seven in the evening, he didn’t give a shit if he’d just accidentally put himself in danger. 

There was no way, in any life, that he’d just leave you out there.

It’d been almost two hours since Bucky had taken you in when you finally woke up. 

Your body moved before your eyes slowly opened, and he watched as they instantly landed on the rifle that was still on the coffee table, then shifted over to the water and aspirin, before they flickered up to him.

He was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his arms crossed as he looked down at you, and he could see the flicker of realization in your eyes before they filled with the same fear he’d seen in them out at the hunting post. 

You tried to push yourself upright, your head shaking slightly as you held up your hands in a defensive gesture. “I-”

“It’s okay,” Bucky quickly assured you, his own hands lifting in a similar way as he refrained from touching you, knowing it would just freak you out even more. Of course the first thing you see after waking up in a stranger’s house being a fucking gun would scare you. He should’ve moved it after he’d cleaned your wound. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You squinted at that, your hand moving to your head where the makeshift bandage is, and you winced when you pressed your palm against it. “Ouch. Shit,” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Bucky stayed still, lowering his hands and bracing them on his thighs as he watched you take a few shaky breaths. “Are you okay?” he asked after a few seconds. 

You glanced over at him, your expression guarded and on edge. “What happened?” you asked, slowly sitting up, making the blanket fall around your waist. 

“You fell. Hit your head on a tree and passed out. I brought you to my house, cleaned you up a bit and got you warm,” Bucky answered, tilting his head as he looked at you. “That’s all I know. Might need you to fill in the rest for me.”

You pressed your lips together as you kept your hand against your head, most likely trying to will the throbbing to go away. “I fell?” you asked, closing your eyes again as you swayed slightly, even though you were still sitting on the couch. 

Bucky nodded slowly, his brows furrowing together. “What happened to you?” he gently asked, “How did you… end up out here?”

You took a few more seconds to answer, then lowered your hand to your lap. “I ran away from home,” you simply answered, your voice low and your words mumbled. 

Bucky sat up a bit, making you flinch, and he quickly reached out a reassuring hand. “It’s okay,” he said, giving you a small smile as he tried to look as least threatening as possible. “Why did you run away?”

You shrugged, looking so small and miserable on his couch. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, and those five words somehow managed to answer a handful of his questions. 

He softened his gaze, his lips turning downwards in a frown. “You have bruises on you,” he stated, watching the way you fidgeted with your hands in your lap. “They’re not all from running away, are they? You didn’t get some of them from just being out in the woods?”

You slowly shook your head, and you ending up out here was starting to make a little sense. 

You’d run away from an abusive home, got lost in the woods, and had probably been out here for days before you found him, but how exactly you ended up here was still one question that hadn’t been answered. 

But Bucky didn’t pry. This was a delicate situation, and even though he hadn’t been in one quite like this before, he understood that he had to be the level headed one out of the two of you, and not push you into a mental breakdown. 

He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath in as he braced his elbows on his knees, moving to be at your eye level. “What’s your name?” he asked, watching the way you seemed to instantly be thrown into an inner debate with yourself. He had no idea what was going through your head, and he knew you had no reason to trust him at the moment, but he wanted you to know that he wasn’t going to hurt you. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna do anything, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you or force you to answer me. You don’t need to be scared of me.”

You swallowed harshly, blinking away tears as you lowered your gaze to the floor. “Isn’t that what every serial killer says to their victims?”

Even though you were still so on edge and uncertain, your voice still held a hint of humor, and Bucky felt a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I wouldn’t know,”

That had your own mouth curling upwards, and even beaten and bruised and bandaged, you were still quite pretty. You looked down at the floor for a few more seconds before you gave him your name, then looked up at him again when he repeated it. 

“I’m Bucky. Well, James, actually, but I’ve always gone by Bucky. Did you take anything with you? A phone or ID or… anything?” he asked, wondering how you’d managed to stay alive for as long as you did with just the clothes on your back. 

You shook your head. “No. No phone or ID. I had a bag with me, my old school backpack, and I had some food in there, but I had to leave it when it started attracting… unwanted visitors,”

Bucky lifted his brows. “You mean, like… bears? Or wolves?”

“Both?” you answered, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dark when I had to leave it behind. I heard footsteps and growling, but I couldn’t see anything, so I got up and ran. That was… I don’t know, a day ago?”

Bucky tried to mask his surprise as best as he could, but it was extremely hard to believe that you’d gotten that close to being mauled or eaten alive just a day ago, and had somehow ended up in his part of the woods afterwards. “When did you run away?” he asked.

“Um… I don’t know. I don’t really know what day it is or how many have passed,” you said, glancing at the glass of water next to him with interest, and Bucky reached over to pick it up and hand it to you. “Four or five days ago? I think…”

“Jesus,” he muttered as you sipped on the water, and you almost finished it in one go, revealing just how dehydrated you must be. “You’ve been out there for five days? Have you slept at all? When was the last time you ate?” he fired off questions, still in shock that you were even alive right now after what he just heard. 

“I slept here and there. I was too scared to sleep for long, and it was really cold at night,” you mumbled, setting the now empty glass on your lap. “The last thing I ate was a granola bar, and that was before I had to ditch the rest of the food in my bag.”

Bucky shook his head, sitting up straight as he ran his hand over his mouth. “You must be starving,” he said, and you shrugged, shyly meeting his eyes. He gestured to the glass, and you let him take it from you as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen, filling it once more. 

When he came back, you took the fresh water from him with a grateful smile, sipping on it this time instead of gulping it down. “Thank you for helping me,” you murmured, looking over your shoulder at the window. It was dark out, and the temperature had dropped even more, the cool breeze coming in from the screen door. “I won’t stay long or… intrude anymore than I already have.”

Bucky furrowed his brows. “You can’t go back out there. Your head is injured, and I know other parts of you are too. It’s late and dark, and I… I can’t let you go back out there,” he said, propping one hand on his hip as he gestured at you with his other. “Not like this.”

You gave him a look that had his knees buckling, and one that made him want to do everything in his power to help you, because who the fuck would ever drive you to the point of running away and putting your life at risk?

“You don’t need to help me anymore,” you whispered, tearing up again as you gave him a tight lipped smile. “You’ve already done enough.”

Bucky took a step towards you, then crouched down in front of you so he wasn’t towering over you. “You’re not intruding. You need help. I can help you,” he said, using his softest tone of voice. “If you’ll let me.”

You were a bit more timid now as you held his gaze, then you slowly started to nod, holding onto the glass with both of your hands. “Okay,” you whispered, and Bucky gave you a small smile as he nodded towards the hallway. 

“Why don’t you go clean up? You can use the shower and anything else you need in there,” he offered, taking the glass from you and setting it aside on the coffee table. “I’ll make some dinner.”

You quickly waved him off, “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“Please. Let me help you,” he cut you off, watching the way you deflated a bit, as if being offered help was something completely new to you. You nodded again, and Bucky offered you his hand. “I’ll set aside some clothes for you and get started on some food.”

You looked at his outstretched hand for a few seconds, and before he could let it fall back down to his side, you reached up and took it. “Okay,” you said again, letting him assist you to your feet. You were still a little unsteady, your body still weak from what he now knows is a lack of food and rest. He helped keep you steady for a few moments, his hands gently holding onto your arms, and when you were stable, you looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Bucky felt his heart clench again at how broken you sounded, and he had to hold off on locking his jaw as he felt a surge of anger build up inside him at the fact that someone had obviously mistreated you so horribly for you to end up here. 

“C’mon,” he said, guiding you towards the bathroom. “I’ll show you where everything is.”

You’d been in the bathroom for quite a while, and dinner had been ready for some time now, but Bucky refused to rush you. 

It was obvious that you didn’t trust him, at least not fully, but he could tell you were already warming up to him, and he didn’t want to backtrack in any way and risk you leaving before your body could actually rest and heal. 

Bucky had set out a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt for you, but also told you where everything is in his dresser in case you needed anything else, then he let you take a shower and no doubt take in all your body had been through over the last week in the mirror.

He’d been sitting at the kitchen table for the last ten minutes, having heard the shower turn off five minutes before that, but again, the last thing he wanted to do was rush you. 

While he waited, he went over his options for this unusual situation he’d found himself in. 

You’d run away from home, and there was no way you’d willingly go back, and Bucky didn’t want you to go back, because he was sure the abuse would only intensify since you’d taken off. But how realistic was it for you to start over somewhere with little to nothing to your name? Bucky would drive you into town, pay for a bus ticket for you, and he’d even give you some cash so you could get by, but where would you go from there? Why was he wondering that if you weren’t really his concern?

And why did the thought of you being out there on your own with only a handful of cash and no stable home make that protective feeling from before come back in full swing? 

You’re a stranger to him. Simply someone who needed help, and he’d given that to you and more. Where do you and he go from here? After he’s fed you and given you a place to rest your head for a while, what the hell happens after that?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening, and he quickly sat up straight, his head instantly turning in the direction of the hallway. 

You slowly walked into the kitchen, clad in his sweats and shirt that looked huge on you, and now that you were clean, he was able to get a better look at you. 

Your arms were littered in bruises and your face was blotchy in certain spots, and even though you were a lot cleaner, your body was still, for lack of better words, a mess. 

The fabric of his shirt was damp from your hair that now had no leaves in it, and you’d somehow managed to keep your bandage mostly dry, but he would still offer to change it later anyway.

Bucky gave you a warm smile as he stood up and gestured to the chair across from his. “I’ll make you a plate,” he offered, and you returned the smile as you moved to sit down. “You scared off what was planned to be on the menu tonight,” he said as he began putting grilled peppers, chicken and scrambled eggs on a plate. It was the best he could do for now, and he’d used up the last of his eggs he was saving for breakfast tomorrow, but he honestly didn’t give a shit that he’d have to go pick up some more sooner than planned. As long as you had options. “I hope this suffices.”

You perked up in the chair as he turned and set the plate down in front of you, and you fidgeted a bit as you looked down at it. “Wow,” you said quietly, and Bucky fought off a grin as he made another plate for himself. 

“What, never had eggs for dinner before?” he teased as he moved back to the table and took his seat across from you. He’d never actually cooked for a girl before, or for anyone other than himself, really, so he was kind of nervous to have his culinary skills on full display right now, but he hid it as best as he could. He was pretty decent in the kitchen, as far as he could tell, but he’d also never gotten someone else’s opinion, so really, what did he know?

“No,” you answered, curling your fingers into your hands where they rested on your lap. “Well, no, and… no one’s ever cooked for me before.”

That had Bucky pausing, his hand halfway to grabbing his fork as he looked over at you. Not only had you come from a place that physically abused you, but also potentially kept food from you, or at least let you fend for yourself food-wise. 

He swallowed harshly, finally picking up his fork as he looked away from you, not wanting you to see the sudden anger he felt taking over his expression. “Well… I’ve never cooked for someone before,” he said back instead of pushing for answers to the questions that had begun forming in his head. “You get to be my first customer.”

Your lips curved at that, and you looked back down at the plate. “I have to pay for this?” you asked, and there was a playful edge to your voice he was surprised to be hearing from someone in your state. It calmed the anger down inside of him. 

“You get to be my first critic,” he corrected himself, then nodded down to your fork. “If you actually eat, that is.” 

Your face flushed at that, and you picked up the fork quickly, a small smile on your lips. You started with the eggs first, and he tried not to watch you the whole time, but this was feeling strangely domestic, and he tried not to think about how good you looked in his house and in his shirt. 

“It’s good,” you said as you chewed, your eyes flickering to meet his, and when you caught him staring, your smile only grew. “But then again, I have nothing to compare it to,” you trailed off as you swallowed, reaching for the glass of water in front of you. You brought it up to your mouth as you added, “Still, it’s very tasty.” 

Bucky hummed, finally tearing his eyes away from you as he began eating as well. “I was kind of rushing,” he said, “You should see how good it is when I’m taking my time.”

You laughed quietly at that as you bit down onto a pepper and chewed slowly. “I’ll take your word for it,”

Fuck, this was really starting to feel domestic. Why was this so… comfortable? Why are you and he already talking as if you’d known each other for more than a few hours?

Bucky cleared his throat as he chewed, his brows furrowing as he nodded at the bandage taped to your temple. “How’s your head?” 

You lifted your free hand and ran your fingers along the cotton, wincing slightly. “Hurts,” you answered, “I tried to not mess with it in the shower, but… yeah, it’s really sore. I have a raging headache too.”

“You might have a concussion,” he said, then nodded behind you at the coffee table in the living room. “There’s some aspirin over there you can take after dinner to help with the pain.”

You nodded at that, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you,”

A few moments of silence passed after that, and Bucky spent most of it trying to find the right way to offer you a place to stay for the night without it sounding too forward or creepy. 

He braced his elbows on the table as he leaned forward, his dinner momentarily forgotten. “I don’t… feel comfortable sending you on your way tonight. You need rest and an actual place to sleep. And your head isn’t in the best shape,” he said, watching as you stopped eating as well and looked up at him. “You can stay here tonight. Take the bed and get a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow or… whenever you’re feeling better, I can drive you into town, get you a bus ticket or something.”

You gave him a look of surprise that you tried to suppress, but he caught it anyway. “You don’t have to do all that, really,” you said quietly, “I can just… maybe sleep here tonight, and I’ll see myself out tomorrow morning.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he shook his head. “I want to. I want to help you,” he said, “I have to go into town anyway to get some stuff. I’ll give you a drive anywhere you want to go, alright? You don’t need to be stumbling around the woods again on your own.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, like you were relieved to hear that you wouldn’t be forced to travel on foot again in an unfamiliar place. “Okay,” you agreed, poking at the eggs on your plate with your fork. “But I don’t need to sleep in your bed. I can sleep on the couch.”

Bucky felt one side of his mouth curve upwards at that, and he looked down at his own plate. “We’ll see about that,” was all he said, then the two of you went back to eating.

After dinner, you offered to clean up, but Bucky just shook his head, saying he’d do it later, then he led you to his room. 

“I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed,” he offered, already starting to pull off the current ones as you quickly shook your head. 

“Really, you don’t have to. It’s fine,” you insisted, but when he turned his head and gave you a look, you deflated a bit and pursed your lips. “Thank you.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh as he shook his head as well, gathering up the sheets, pillow cases and blankets into his arms. “You don’t gotta keep thanking me. I’m just doing what anyone else would,”

You gave a small, defeated laugh as he walked past you. “No, you’re not,” you said, and he realized that you must’ve been wronged countless times in the past by countless people to truly believe that what he was doing was him going above and beyond for you. He really didn’t think he was doing that much, he actually thought he wasn’t doing enough, and he wanted to do more for you, he just didn’t know how. 

Bucky didn’t say anything at that, and headed down the hall to the laundry room, where he grabbed some fresh sheets. 

Once he’d returned to his room, he made the bed and tidied up the clothes scattered around on the floor as you stood glued to the spot beside the closet. You were looking at his bed as you chewed on your fingernail, wincing slightly as you turned to face him. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to sleep in here? I mean, it’s your bed and you’re a tall guy. That couch out there isn’t small, but it probably won’t be very comfortable for you. I don’t mind sleeping on it,”

Bucky huffed out a laugh of disbelief. Here you are, a broken human being who’d suffered unimaginable things over the last few days, and probably the last few years, and yet you were still putting his comfort over your own. A stranger’s over your own. “I’ll be fine,” he assured you, stuffing his clothes into the laundry bin inside his closet. “I’ve slept on that couch many times now. It hasn’t done me wrong yet. Besides, after all you’ve been through, I think you could use a night on an actual bed.”

You nodded at that, scratching at your arm. “Thank y-” you cut yourself off when he lifted his brows at you, and your face flushed once again as you looked away. 

Bucky felt a smile form on his face as he gestured to your head. “Let me look at that one more time before bed,” 

You nodded, then moved to sit down on the edge of the bed as he walked past you to go retrieve the first aid kit from off the coffee table. He sat down in front of you on the bed, setting the kit between you and him, then got to work on slowly peeling the cotton away from your wound. It didn’t look much different from before, which was expected, but it looked cleaner, probably because you’d gotten water on it from your shower. 

He replaced the bandage, neither of you speaking the whole time as you let him patch you up once again, this time with you being fully conscious. You winced when he pressed the new one against your head, but you didn’t move, fully trusting him to be as careful and as gentle as he could, and he was sure he’d never been this careful in his entire life. 

“What’s the verdict, doc?” you asked a little awkwardly, like this was your way of distracting yourself from the pain. “Am I gonna live?”

He fought off a growing grin, smoothing down the cotton before pulling back. “You’ll live,” he answered, “Ninety eight percent certain of that.”

That had you fighting off a smile of your own, and you quickly looked away.

Bucky had refilled your water glass and grabbed the aspirin from off the coffee table when he’d gone to get the first aid kit, and after he was done replacing the bandage, he handed you both the water and aspirin. 

He waited until you’d taken them before he stood up from the bed, putting the kit on the dresser, as well as the bottle of aspirin in case you needed more later. After that he turned to face you, and he propped his hands on his hips, pressing his lips together. 

What does he say to the girl who’s about to spend the night in his bed? This wasn’t the first time a pretty girl has spent the night in his bed, though he’s usually in bed too, but he’d be spending his night on the couch instead. What was an appropriate way to end the interactions with you for the night?

“I’ll leave you alone now,” he said, holding back a cringe at his words. He wasn’t usually this way around girls. He’d been with his fair share of women, and even though he hadn’t been super close to any since moving out here, he liked to think he still knew how to talk to one. You made it hard to think though, let alone speak. “I’ll just be on the couch. If you need anything.” he added for good measure. 

You nodded at that, your lips pursing to the side as you didn’t say anything. 

Fuck, was this as awkward for you as it was for him?

“Goodnight,” Bucky said, giving you one last look before starting to turn around, but then you quickly stood up and reached for his arm. 

He turned back to you instantly, and you didn’t say a single thing as you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around his middle. You pressed your head against his chest, and he felt the way you trembled with nerves. “Thank you,” you whispered, and he knew he’d let that one slide, because he could only imagine how much it took out of you to hug him after everything you’d been through. 

Bucky slowly wrapped his arms around your much smaller body, his big hands splaying along your back. “Of course,” he said back, pressing his chin against the top of your head. 

The moment ended not too long after that, with you pulling away first, and Bucky noticed the tears in your eyes but he didn’t comment on them. Instead, he gave you a tight lipped smile. “Get some rest,” he said, and you nodded again as you backed away and got into his bed, and he quickly turned and left the room, closing the door almost all the way behind him. 

He lingered in the hallway for a few moments, not wanting to leave you alone just yet for some reason, before he forced himself to walk into the living room, choosing to leave the hall light on for you in case you needed to go to the bathroom, or wake him up for any reason.

Bucky naturally wakes up super early, despite him sometimes really needing a few extra hours of sleep. 

Like today. He’d ended up staying up for a few hours after he’d left you in his room and got comfortable on the couch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep. 

He’d been on edge, constantly keeping one eye open and listening out for any noise coming from the bedroom. He was worried about you, not wanting you to need something but be too shy to come out and ask him for it. He’d tossed and turned all night, and even though he’d been telling the truth when he told you that he’d comfortably slept on the couch countless times before, he just couldn’t bring himself to fall asleep. 

If he had to guess, he assumed he’d gotten about four hours of sleep in total before he was fully awake at six in the morning. 

Bucky stayed up after that, not bothering to try and get a couple more hours of sleep and instead deciding to turn the TV on as a distraction. 

He kept looking down the hall, wanting to go in and check on you, but that would probably freak you out if you were to wake up just as he was peeking in, or worse, you already being awake and seeing him poke his head in. 

His eyes were a little sore from lack of sleep as he crossed his arms, his mouth opening in an unflattering yawn as he looked at the TV mounted on the wall. His head tipped back as his throat made a sound he had no control over, and just as the yawn began to fade, he heard the sound of a soft laugh to his left. 

Bucky looked over immediately, seeing you standing at the entrance of the hallway, and you already looked so much better than you did yesterday. 

You looked more rested, more light and happier, and the sight brought a smile to his face as he sat up, pulling the blanket off his lap and setting it aside. “Hey,” he greeted, the TV now completely forgotten about. 

“Morning,” you said back, shifting on your feet. 

“Morning,” Bucky repeated, then nodded towards the loveseat a few feet away. “You wanna sit?” he offered, and you nodded before making your way towards the seat and sitting down on it. You brought your knees up to your chest as Bucky ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the messy strands he knew were sticking up from when he was asleep. “Did you, uh… sleep okay?”

You nodded again, wrapping your hands around your shins. “Yeah. I slept good,” 

Bucky nodded, huffing out a breath of air. “That’s… that’s good,” he said, and he was growing more and more convinced that his natural, charming way of talking to a woman was fading by the day. “How are you feeling? How’s your head?”

You shrugged a bit, his shirt slipping down your shoulder just an inch or two. “I’m feeling… better. I’m still a little tired and sore, and my head still hurts. But I feel better,” 

He smiled at that, leaning over and bracing his elbows on his knees. “That’s good,” he repeated, much softer this time. He watched as you gave him a small smile before turning your attention to the TV, and he let his eyes linger on your side profile for a little longer before he looked away. “I, uh… I can give you a ride into town if you feel up to it. I have some cash I can give you to, you know, help you get started somewhere else.”

You looked back over at him, and your expression faltered a bit as you pressed your lips together. You shifted, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as your lips parted, but Bucky quickly spoke up before you had a chance to. 

“If you’re not feeling well enough, that’s okay too,” he said, watching the way your shoulders fell a bit, and he hadn’t realized how tense you’d gotten at the thought of being alone again. “If you still need some rest and time to heal, you… can stay here. For as long as you need.”

He wasn’t sure if he was being too forward or offering too much, or simply not offering enough, but the smile was back on your face now, and that made one form on his own as well. “I don’t want to intrude. I know this,” you waved a hand around the living room, “is what you’re used to. Your normal way of living doesn’t involve looking after a girl you found in the woods,” you trailed off, hesitating briefly before you let out a shaky breath, “I’d like to stay… for a few days, maybe? If that’s okay. I won’t bother you or get in the way, and I can help out around the house if you need it. I don’t want to freeload. But… I’d like to stay. Just for a bit.”

You were rambling, as if he didn’t offer you the choice to stay in the first place. And now you were offering to do chores around his house? While sporting a nasty gash on your head? Where the hell had you come from?

“It’s okay,” he said, putting your rambling to a stop as you met his eyes. “You can stay. I don’t mind,” he leaned back on the couch, draping his arm on the back of it. “But that means we’re gonna probably be scavenging for food since I won’t be going into town today after all. And maybe we’ll see if you’re any good with a fishing rod, if you’re up for it.”

You let out a soft laugh as you nodded, “I think I can handle that,”

Bucky was standing on the dock at the lake that was a short walk from his house. It was later in the day and much warmer than it had been yesterday, but the air still had a chill to it, so he’d given you one of his jackets to wear while by the lake. 

He was standing close to the edge of the dock, putting bait on the hook of his fishing rod while keeping a careful eye on you. You were standing off to the side by a tree, your arms tense at your sides as you watched him with interest he found oddly adorable. 

You still looked a little tired, even though Bucky had put this off for most of the day, letting you rest some more on the couch while he did some chores around the house. 

When he mentioned heading down to the lake to try his luck at fishing, you perked up at that and asked if you could tag along, and then you slid on your muddy shoes and accepted his jacket when he agreed. 

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was doing. He’d lived a pretty normal life prior to taking you into his home and patching you up. He’d wake up early every day, make himself a hearty breakfast, do some house work or some yard work, then either go hunting or fishing, eat dinner, call his sister and chat with her for a while before going to bed. 

He’d served in the military for a while before moving out here, and he’d received quite a large amount of money during his time he served, and he’d been getting cheques every few months that allowed him to live comfortably. He’d go into town maybe once or twice a week, stock up on things he needed, maybe stop at a bar and let loose for a bit, then go home. 

His priorities had shifted drastically over the last few years. When he was still living in the city, he’d have no problem spending his evening at a bar, chatting up a pretty girl, then spending the rest of the night with her, and that was something he’d done many many times. 

But as he got older and reached his early thirties, he realized random hook ups and money wasted on bars wasn’t what he wanted in life, and he wanted a change. 

So he’d moved out of his apartment and relocated to where he is now, and he’d been living a much healthier and efficient lifestyle, and he hadn’t looked back since. 

With that being said, it’d been a while since he’d had a woman around for as long as you’ve been, with the exception of his sister. He didn’t quite know what to do or how he could go back to normal now that he’s taken it upon himself to try and heal you and help you in any way he could. 

Bucky didn’t know how long you’d be here, in his home and in his life, before you decided you needed to get a move on and try your luck on your own, but the thought of you heading back out into the world with essentially no one at your side didn’t sit well with him. 

He doesn’t know you very well, but there was an obvious trust between you and him that was growing more and more. It’d been over twenty four hours since he met you, and already he’d found that, despite him being on his own for quite some time now, you kind of fit in just right here. 

But that seemed crazy to think about, and way too fucking soon. Realistically, how long would it be appropriate for you to stay with him without it becoming weird? He’d found you in the woods and taken you in, which was already weird enough. 

But Bucky had always wanted to help people. He was good at it, and he didn’t like the thought of someone struggling when he could so easily help out. 

The whole situation was weird and unexpected and kind of overwhelming, and yet he didn’t mind the odd addition to his life - that being in the form of another person he had to look after rather than just himself. 

Once the bait was securely attached to the hook, he cast it out into the water, then turned his head to look over at you as he waited for a bite. “How are you doing?” he asked, and you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I’m fine,” you answered, gesturing to the lake. “I don’t want to be in your way.”

Bucky let out a laugh, “Well, that’s really nice, but it wasn’t what I meant,” he said, watching the way you became flustered at the teasing tone in his voice. “I mean, how are you feeling? You don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to. You can head back and rest some more if you need to.”

You shook your head slowly, giving him a grateful smile. “No, I’m alright,” you said, then gave him a small smirk, “I need to learn how to do this if I’m gonna pull my weight around here.”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue, then nodded, “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he agreed, though he didn’t expect you to do really anything since you’d already been through enough lately. You deserved to have someone do things for you for a while, and that person was obviously Bucky. 

A few minutes pass with not much else being said, and as Bucky looked out at the setting sun that was making the water look orange and pink instead of blue, you moved a little closer to the dock. “How long does this usually take?”

Bucky shrugged, keeping his eyes on the sun as it slowly moved towards the water. “Depends. Could be a few minutes, could be a few hours,” he answered. You walked a little closer until you were standing next to him, and he instinctively looked over at you. 

Despite the bruises marring your skin, it still looked almost flawless in the orange glow of the sun. You looked soft, if that made any sense at all, and innocent in a way that had him questioning how anyone had ever treated you so badly in the past. 

He almost commented on how beautiful you look, but quickly caught the words before they could leave his mouth, and he cleared his throat. “You wanna give it a try?” 

You quickly met his gaze as your lips parted, your eyes widening a bit. “I’ll probably be terrible at it,”

Bucky shrugged as he started to reel in the line, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to teach you,”

He moved to stand behind you, then offered you the rod, which you hesitantly took. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said as you held it awkwardly, only further proving that you’d never gone fishing a day in your life. 

Bucky laughed as he lifted his hand. “It’s okay. I can show you,” he said, then paused once he’d moved a little closer to you. “Can I… is this okay?” he asked before he pushed you too far. 

He didn’t know your limits, didn’t know how you’d react if he just suddenly touched you. This was a lot different than him cleaning your wound and changing the bandage for you, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. 

You looked over your shoulder, saw how close he was, then hesitated a bit before you started to slowly nod. “Yeah. It’s fine,” you said quietly, “Gotta show me somehow, right?”

He nodded in agreement as he moved closer to you, then wrapped his arms around your frame and guided your hands into the proper position on the rod. “Just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

You gave a slight nod and allowed him to position your hands, then he guided your arms back a bit, the line coming with it. 

“Let go of the line as soon as it passes the edge down here,” he said, knocking the edge of the dock with his boot, and he waited until you looked down and nodded before he guided your arms into a swinging motion. 

You’d caught on fast, your finger releasing the line as soon as it crossed the water line, and then it was cast into the lake, reaching almost as far as his had before. “Did I… do it right?” you asked, and Bucky felt his lips curl up as he took a step away from you.

“Yeah, that was good,” he said, letting his arms drop back to his sides, and when you turned your head to look over at him, he could’ve sworn he’d seen a flicker of disappointment on your face as you glanced down at his hands, but it was gone before he could question it too much. 

“How will I know if I caught anything?”

“You’ll feel something start to tug, then you’ll have to reel it in,” he said, and as if you’d predicted that very thing happening, there was a tug on the line, and you let out a gasp. 

“Oh, fuck,”

Bucky couldn’t even take a second to reflect on how funny that word sounded coming from someone as seemingly innocent as you since you’d reached for his arm and tugged him to you as you pulled on the fishing rod. 

He helped you reel the line in, then got to see how excited you became when he pulled on the hook and lifted it out of the water, a decent sized trout stuck to the end of it. 

Your mouth opened in surprise as you held onto the end of the rod, and you looked so happy, it was hard to believe that you’d been so close to death just yesterday. “I caught a fish?” you asked, as if he wasn’t currently unhooking the proof right now. 

Bucky stood up straight, holding the fish in one hand as he looked at you. “You caught a fish,” he confirmed, and couldn’t stop the grin that took over his face at the squeal you let out.

It had still been pretty early in the evening when you’d caught your first ever fish, but you and Bucky still returned to his house soon after. 

You were giddy as you stood next to him in his kitchen, still wearing his oversized jacket and sweats as you watched him clean the trout, because of course you and he were having it for dinner. You were so excited that you’d managed to catch a fish on your first try, and he wanted you to be able to reap the benefits and see for yourself how good it feels to prepare and eat something you’d caught all on your own.

He’d found out himself the very first year he lived here how much better something tasted when he actually worked for it, and he wanted you to experience that as well. 

You ended up getting in his way quite a bit the entire time he was making dinner, pairing the trout with fresh vegetables and rice, but he didn’t mind. Of course he was used to being alone and having no distractions as he made dinner, but you were a welcoming one. 

You’d finally calmed down a bit as he began plating the food, and you took it upon yourself to set the table, with him needing to tell you where everything was in the drawers and cupboards. 

“Thank you,” you said when he set a plate down in front of you, and Bucky laughed as he sat down in his seat across from you. 

“For what? You’re the one who provided dinner tonight,” he pointed out, and a warm feeling filled him at the fact that this was the second dinner you and he are having together, and you were evidently a lot happier during this one. 

“I just caught it,” you said, as if that was easy for someone to do on their first try. “You’re the one who cooked it.”

Bucky hummed, picking up his fork. “It was a team effort,” he decided, and you nodded in agreement. 

After dinner, neither of you made any move to quickly get up from the table. You’d been in the middle of explaining how you’d almost failed Math in grade nine since you had massive crush on the teacher and couldn’t focus every time he taught something, and Bucky just let you talk, because the version of you in front of him right now was so different from the version he met and saw last night. 

You seemed brighter, like the darkness he’d seen in your eyes and face yesterday had faded throughout the day, leaving behind someone who seemed far too sweet to have ever gone through any form of abuse at all. 

There was a certain light in your eyes, a happiness in your voice that had him leaning closer and letting you say anything that came to mind, because your voice was soothing to him. It was beautiful, and it seemed out of place in his home that had been quiet and void of anything but his own presence for so long. 

That domestic feeling he’d noticed before was coming back, and it didn’t help that you propped your elbow up on the table, and his shirt had slipped off your shoulder once again, revealing a glimpse of your skin under it. 

Bucky had to tear his eyes away from you as he stood up, beginning to gather the plates and utensils as he fought off the growing heat he felt building up inside of him. You weren’t here to stay. You were merely a guest he was helping out. He had no business feeling the way he currently is. 

“I can help,” you offered, beginning to stand up, and when Bucky tried to protest, you’d taken the dishes out of his hands and gave him a small grin before you moved past him and began washing them, and he had to lean back against the table for a sense of stability. 

Those feelings didn’t go away. They only grew tenfold.

“It’s not about how fast you hit it. It’s about how you swing and how much force you put into it,” Bucky said as he demonstrated what he’d just finished explaining to you. 

He lifted the axe above his head, keeping his eyes firmly on the log in front of him that was placed on the trunk of a tree that had fallen over way before he’d even moved here. He swung the axe down in one smooth, quick motion that had the blade hitting it dead-on, the wood easily splitting into three pieces. 

You watched from your place a few feet away, his shirt rolled up with one side tied in a knot at your hip to keep it from reaching your knees. His sweats were rolled up as well, reaching just below your knees as you observed him, your head tilted curiously. “That looks really hard,” you said, and Bucky huffed out a laugh as he reached down and put the newly split wood into a pile next to the trunk. 

“It’s not super easy,” he said, placing another one in its place. “But it’s not super hard either.”

You’d been here for a few days now, and your head had healed up quite nicely to the point where you could ditch the unflattering white bandage for a smaller, less obvious one. Though you still somehow managed to make the bandage look good, he didn’t tell you that. 

Most of the bruises on your body had faded, leaving behind faint purple spots that would also be gone soon enough, and you’d gotten more rest in the last couple days than you had in the last couple years, or so you’ve told him. 

The heat was quite noticeable today and the sleeves of his Henley were rolled up to his elbows, and he took note of the way your eyes kept lingering on his forearms every so often, but he didn’t comment on it. 

He’d be a liar if he were to say he hadn’t been looking at you in the way you’d been looking at him more than a few times now. 

Just as Bucky began lining up the axe again, you took a step towards him. “Can I try?” 

He paused, the axe lifted above his head, and without thinking much about it, he lowered it and nodded. “Sure,” he said, gesturing for you to come stand where he is. 

You and he had grown rather close in the short time you’ve been here, so he didn’t feel like he was going too far when he wrapped his arms around you after handing you the axe.  

He helped guide you into a few practice swings, his front pressed quite close to your back, but you weren’t tense like you had been the first night you were here. You almost welcomed it now, and you didn’t shy away from him. That was progress, and he was really fucking proud of you. 

Once he thought you’d had a good handle on it, he stepped back to give you some room. “Just stay still and put some force into the swing,” he instructed, and you nodded, squinting at the log for a moment before swinging the axe down. It didn’t break the log, but got stuck in it, and you looked over at Bucky for help. He laughed under his breath and reached over, pulling the blade out of the log before stepping back again, propping his hands on his hips. “It’s okay. Try again. Aim for that same spot.”

You let out a deep breath and nodded, then swung again. The axe got stuck in the log once more, and you huffed. “I’m terrible at this,” you said, letting go of the axe, leaving it stuck in the log. 

Bucky laughed again, moving past you to retrieve it as you stood off to the side. “It’s alright. It’s not easy for someone just trying it out for the first time,”

“Yeah, but I caught a fish the first time I went fishing,” you said, and he scoffed. 

“Oh, so that made you think you’d be good at every new thing you try for the first time?”

“I was hopeful,” you said back, and he shook his head. But he could feel you looking at him as he positioned his hands on the handle of the axe, and before he swung, he looked over at you, noticing the frown on your face. “What? What’s wrong?”

You shrugged, looking down at your shoes that weren’t as muddy as they were before since he’d taken it upon himself to clean them for you. “I feel useless just standing here,” you confessed. “You’ve done so much for me. I want to help as much as I can.”

Bucky lowered the axe, then looked around as he tried to think of something you could do that didn’t take a whole lot of effort since your body was still healing. “Why don’t you stack what I split?” he suggested, nodding towards the already stacked wood pile against the side of his house a few feet away. “That way I don’t have to do it after.”

You smiled at that and nodded, “Okay,” you said, then bent down to retrieve a couple pieces of wood he’d just split before heading towards the pile, and Bucky let his eyes linger on your backside before he lifted the axe again and swung, splitting the log you’d failed twice at with ease.

Later that night, it’d cooled down and since he’d had the windows open all day, it was kind of cold in his house. 

Bucky had lit a fire in the living room, the fireplace lighting up the room and making shadows flicker all over the walls. You were sitting on a blanket on the floor, your back pressed against the side of the couch as you watched him, a small smile seeming to have a permanent place on your face. 

You were wearing one of his hoodies, his wardrobe having become yours as well since there was no saving your old clothes. He’d tried to get the mud stains out of your shorts and debated on whether or not it was worth trying to sew your shirt, but it was a hopeless cause. And Bucky rather liked the way you looked in his clothes, almost as much as you seemed to like wearing them.

The orange glow from the fire made you look like something that’d fallen straight out of heaven and landed directly in his path, inserting yourself into his life without a second thought about it. And yet you fit right in. 

You’d only been here for almost a week, and yet Bucky had already become used to having you around. Every time he cooked, you cleaned up, and every time he busied himself with work around the house, you were right there, offering your assistance and taking it upon yourself to help in any way you could. 

You and he sit together for every meal, and you end up staying at the table well after you’ve finished eating and talking for hours, and he’s made you laugh so many times now, he’d gotten used to how it sounded in his usually quiet house. 

It felt like you’d known each other for a lot longer than you had. You’d fallen asleep on the couch yesterday while you and he watched TV, your head falling to his shoulder as your soft breaths fanned across his cheek. 

And, obviously, Bucky didn’t move a single muscle the entire time you slept, earning him a sore arm that was well worth it. 

You and he ended up messing around by the lake yesterday, splashing at each other, which resulted in both of you becoming completely soaked but also not giving a fuck about the uncomfortable walk back home in wet clothes. The smiles on both your faces never faded once.

He rather liked the little bubble you and he had been living in for the past week, and he didn’t want to think about what it would be like when you inevitably had to go. His life would return to normal, but what would that feel like when he’d already gotten so used to having you in his space and in his life?

You and he had pretty much gone through all the food he had in his cupboards, and while he had a pretty nicely stocked garden around the back of his house, eating just peppers and tomatoes and onions wasn’t sufficient. 

That meant he would have to drive out into town tomorrow to get some groceries and other things he needed, and that meant you’d probably be taking him up on that offer to drive to the bus stop. 

Bucky sat next to you on the blanket, lifting one leg and planting his foot firmly on the ground as he forced himself to not look at you. The hue from the fire made you look achingly pretty, but that wasn’t saying much since he’d found you pretty in every type of lighting. 

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, with both you and Bucky watching the fire flicker and create harsh shadows all around his dark living room. 

He knew he was a little tense, because he had to bring up the trip to town he was planning, and that would bring up the topic of you tagging along and getting a bus ticket. 

You shifted next to him, and he had a feeling you could tell something was on his mind, but you didn’t push him to tell you. You’d been as patient with him as he’d been with you, and Bucky was growing more and more aware of the fact that if you were to leave town tomorrow, he’d really fucking miss you. 

Even though it would mean you’re starting a new chapter in your life somewhere nicer than where you had been before, and you’d be happier, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be in that chapter with you. 

Maybe you and he would be able to stay in touch, though it wasn’t likely. 

Bucky swallowed harshly, looking down at the small space between your thigh and his. “I’m, uh… heading into town tomorrow. You’ve managed to empty out everything I had in my kitchen,” he started, trying to keep the mood light, and it worked as you let out a soft laugh. He lifted his gaze to you, and he found you already looking at him. “Have you thought more about maybe getting a bus ticket? Just… getting away from everything that happened?” 

He held back a wince when he asked that, because the thought of you being all alone again after this made his heart clench in his chest. The thought of him being alone again was even worse.

You pressed your lips together and looked away, bringing your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, I’ve… thought about it,” you confessed quietly, and Bucky’s heart clenched again. 

Because as much as he liked having you here, you’d been thinking about leaving him behind and disappearing. And you weren’t selfish to think that or want it, but he sure was for wanting you to stay. 

Fuck. He wants you to stay. 

He cleared his throat harshly, tearing his eyes away from you. “So you, uh… accepting that drive to the bus stop?”

You looked over at him at that, but he didn’t look at you in return. He could see the way you deflated a bit out of the corner of his eye. “If you’re still offering it,” you answered softly, and Bucky wanted to take that offer back so badly. 

“I am,” he said instead, shifting a bit on the blanket. “We can leave tomorrow morning after breakfast. If I can find any food to make for breakfast, that is.”

That had you huffing out a breathy laugh, and he couldn’t stop the way his head turned to look at you. He couldn’t help it. He liked the way you looked when you laughed. 

You turned your head and met his eyes, and your expression softened. “Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, then slowly, hesitantly, you reached down and placed your hand over his where it was on the ground between you. “For… for everything. You… saved me. Took me in and you made me feel like I’m not just… a punching bag. So thank you. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for that.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, because he felt it starting to tremble a bit, and you’d trusted him to be the strong one up until this point. He didn’t want to let you down. “I already told you,” he said just as quietly. He turned his hand over and laced his fingers with yours, giving them a soft squeeze as his eyes held your gaze. “You don’t have to thank me. I couldn’t just… leave you out there. I couldn’t. I knew you’d been through hell and I couldn’t add to it. I couldn’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

You smiled at that, but your eyes started to water, and you started to turn your head when his other hand instantly lifted up. His fingers cradled your jaw, halting your movement and making your breath get caught in your throat. 

“Is that… is this okay?” he trailed off, guiding your gaze back to his, and he watched the way your eyes darted down to his mouth as you nodded slowly. “Words, sweetheart.”

You inhaled at the name he hadn’t used until right now, and then you leaned a little closer. “Yes. It’s okay,” 

Bucky grinned softly at that, his thumb stroking along your bottom lip as he leaned in as well. “I can stop,” he said, meaning it with everything in him. 

But you shook your head, and before he could remind you to use your words again, you spoke up, “I don’t want you to stop,”

And that had him leaning all the way in until his lips brushed along yours in the softest, most gentle kiss he’s ever had. You kissed him back, smiling against his lips and making him smile right back, his hand moving to cradle your jaw. 

It ended all too soon, but it was still already high on the list of the most intimate moments Bucky has ever experienced in his life, and that was bad. 

Because you were leaving tomorrow, and he wouldn’t get to experience that again.

There was a heavy feeling weighing down Bucky’s chest as he sat with you in his truck that was parked on the side of the street. 

A few feet behind the truck was one of the bus stops around town, and in approximately four minutes, a bus would come and take you out of his life just as quickly as you fell into it. Literally. 

His elbow was propped up on the window frame, his fingers covering his mouth as he looked at the street with a bitterness he couldn’t remember feeling for quite some time now. 

You were sitting in the passenger seat, wearing an old pair of jeans that didn’t fit him anymore since he’d gained quite a bit of muscle since he started living on the outskirts of town, and one of his flannels. At your feet was one of the many bags he had lying around his house, and in it were a couple of his shirts and sweats and jeans, as well as a couple snacks and water and the extra toothbrush you’d been using at his house. There was also a stack of cash he’d slipped in without you noticing, because you refused to take his money when he offered it to you back at the house. 

You felt guilty for taking his clothes, but Bucky honestly didn’t care about that at all. As long as you had something to get started with, he didn’t care how many shirts he’d need to replace in the future. 

The truck was off, not even the sound of the radio able to fill the silence that filled the cab. There was tension in the air, but it wasn’t angry or uncomfortable or heated. It was more sad than anything else, because even though you hadn’t been in his life for long, this was still a hard goodbye. 

Bucky had grown attached to you. He’d taken on the role as your protector, and he wanted to keep that role for much longer. He had, like you told him last night, saved your life, so he was feeling protective over you, and the thought of wishing you well then sending you on your way made him feel like he was throwing you out to the wolves.

He shifted in his seat, glancing over at you. You were sitting comically still, the bus ticket he’d bought you sitting on your lap, ignored as if you didn’t want to hold it in your hands or even look at it. “You sure you’re… well enough to go off on your own?” he asked, more than ready to take you right back to his place. “It’s okay if you’re not. You won’t be intruding or anything like that. You don’t even have to stay with me if you don’t want to. I can give you some money and you can stay at a hotel for a bit. I just… don’t want you pushing yourself into something if you’re not ready for it.”

You looked over at him, forcing yourself to smile. “I’m ready,” you said, and you sounded truthful, and yet that didn’t help soothe the ache he felt in his chest. “I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. You’ve been amazing, Bucky, and I truly meant it when I said you saved me. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to pay you back.”

Bucky frowned and shook his head, “Sweetheart-” he started, but the bus rounded the corner and began slowing down, and his time with you was up. 

You gave him a small smile as you grabbed the bag and opened the door, hopping out of his truck with a lot more grace than you’d moved with before. He’d healed you. And you healed him too, in a way. 

He’d been content by himself before, willing to spend the rest of his life alone in the woods and preparing meals for one and sleeping by himself in the big bed in his room. 

But you’d opened a part of him up, and he no longer saw himself being alone forever. He saw himself settling down, living his life with someone by his side. And he wanted that someone to be you so fucking badly. 

His heart physically ached as he watched you stand on the side walk and close the passenger side door. “Bye, Bucky,” you said quietly, and there were tears in your eyes that matched the ones he felt forming in his. 

You turned and started walking towards the bus stop, your grip so tight on the straps of the bag he could see your hands starting to shake. 

Bucky stayed in the truck, not trusting himself to step out and walk with you to the bus stop. He was afraid you’d turn to hug him like you had done the first night you spent at his house, and he wouldn’t be able to let go of you. 

So he just watched as you walked towards the bus shelter, then stopped just as the bus pulled up to the stop. He watched with a heavy heart, his knuckles pressed to his mouth as he suppressed the tremble he felt in his lips. 

But when the doors of the bus opened, you didn’t get on. Your back was turned to him, so he couldn’t see your face, but he could see how tense you were as you stayed completely still on the sidewalk. 

Before he could realize what he was doing, Bucky tore off his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out onto the street without even checking to see if any cars were coming. He rounded the truck and got onto the sidewalk, moving towards you and stopping just a few feet away. 

You hadn’t turned around to face him yet, but you did turn your head when the bus driver let out a huff. “Are you on or off, Miss?” he asked impatiently. You didn’t answer him, and the man let out another annoyed sound. “Ma’am, are you staying or getting on?” 

That hit Bucky hard, because he wanted you to stay. Maybe it wasn’t realistic, and maybe it was way too soon, but he didn’t fucking care. He didn’t want you to go. 

You turned your head even more until you were looking at him, and when your eyes met his, your shoulders dropped, the tension leaving your body instantly. You turned to face him fully, your grip on the bag loosening, “Stay,” you said quietly, “I want to stay.”

That had Bucky closing the remaining distance between you and him, and you met him halfway, dropping the bag in your hurry to get to him. Your body collided with his just as the bus pulled away from the curb, and Bucky cradled the back of your head with one hand, his other arm wrapping tightly around your middle. 

He pulled your body flush against his, and your arms banded around his shoulders as you leaned up and connected your mouth to his. He lifted you up just slightly so you could kiss him a little better, and he deepened it instantly. This was even better than the one you and he shared on his living room floor last night, and he had no doubt that he’d just become obsessed with you. 

Bucky couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his lips when he pulled away for air, “You want to stay?” he breathed, his hands cupping either side of your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “With me?”

You nodded slowly, keeping your arms locked around his shoulders. “Yes, I do. Can I?”

Bucky let out a soft groan, his lips covering yours once again. “Yeah. Fuck yeah, you can stay,” he muttered against your mouth, and you broke the kiss as you laughed. You laughed even more when he pressed a series of fast kisses to your cheek before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, taking you with him as he walked the few steps to retrieve your discarded bag, then he guided you back to his truck. 

He opened the passenger door for you, helped you inside, leaned in and pressed one last kiss to your lips before pulling back and shutting the door, tossing the bag into the backseat as he did so. 

“First stop, the store so we can stock up on food,” he said when he got back into the driver’s seat. “Then I’ll take you back to my place.”

“Then I’ll help you put all the groceries away,” you added, and Bucky couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he tried.  

This was fucking crazy, but as he looked over at you, sitting in his passenger seat and looking so much happier now than you did before now that you’re staying, he didn’t give a single fuck about how crazy this was.

Bucky stocked up on things even more than he normally does, his counters littered with grocery bags that were filled with food and other things he was running low on. 

He didn’t want to go back to town for a while now, though he would have to sooner rather than later because he planned on buying you some better clothing options - ones that actually fit you, but this was just fine for now. 

Bucky had just finished bringing in the last three bags, and he set them down onto the table as he looked over at you. His flannel was tied around your waist now, his white shirt hanging loosely off your body as you placed the eggs and milk into the fridge. 

You must’ve felt him staring, because you leaned against the counter beside the fridge after you closed it, a teasing smile on your lips. “You should think about investing in livestock,” you suggest, crossing your arms. “It would save you a fortune on eggs if you were to have your own chickens in the backyard.”

Bucky laughed, slowly starting to close the distance between you and him. “I live in the middle of nowhere, sweetheart,” he said, “I don’t have a backyard.”

You pursed your lips, suddenly becoming a little fidgety as he stopped right in front of you and lifted his hand. But instead of touching you like he knew you were expecting, he reached into the bag behind you on the counter, pulling out the bread. “That might be true,” you said, a lot less confidently than before, and Bucky smirked a bit. “But my point still stands.”

He hummed, “Which was?”

“That you’d save a fortune on… on eggs,” you said, your eyes flickering down to his mouth for a few seconds. 

Bucky had a lazy smile on his lips as he turned a bit and opened the breadbox that was next to the sink, putting the two loaves he’d bought inside before closing it again. “I appreciate your concern. It’s quite sweet you’re worried I’ll break the bank on eggs each month,” he said, and you flushed, leaning further back against the counter. “But it’s not needed, sweetheart. I think I made sure I wouldn’t be stressed over whether or not I could afford eggs every month before I moved all the way out here.”

You pressed your lips together, reaching behind you to hold onto the edge of the counter, as if him towering over you like this was making you unsteady, but you didn’t look uncomfortable in the slightest, so he didn’t move away. “Yeah, I guess that sounds pretty logical,” you mumbled, and Bucky’s smirk softened, his hand lifting up again, but this time to cradle your jaw. 

The way you leaned into his touch immediately, like you trusted him so much to never hurt you, like you’d grown accustomed to it, made Bucky feel a little feral, and he closed the gap between yours and his mouth before he could voice that to you. 

You kissed him back quickly, your fingers tightening on the counter for a brief moment before you reached up and curled your fingers into his jacket, pulling him closer. 

Despite you and he only doing this twice before, the first time being only last night, you and he had already found an easy rhythm. He was slowly memorizing the way your lips feel against his, and as he deepened the kiss, he was starting to memorize your taste as well. 

The way you were kissing him told him that you were trying to memorize his taste and the feel of his lips too. You’d been so shy, so timid and closed off for days, but you were letting him in now. You trusted him, and somehow that made him feel better than anything else ever had. 

Bucky’s hands were on your waist, gripping you still so gently as he pulled away from your lips, his breathing having already picked up drastically. “Is this okay?” he asked, his lips brushing along yours with each word. 

As much as you seemed to be completely comfortable and relaxed with him now, he didn’t want to accidentally get caught up and touch you in a way that brings you right back to the very thing you’d run away from. He knew any touch could take you back there, reset your progress, and drive you away from him since he’d reminded you of that dark place. 

But then you nodded your head, the tip of your nose gently bumping against his each time it passed by. “Yes,” you breathed, and then you were reaching down and grabbing onto his wrists, slowly pushing his hands further down. 

His palms smoothed over your ass, then slid lower and grabbed onto the backs of your thighs, and he lifted you up, setting you down on the counter. Your breath hitched as he did so, your hands coming up to grab onto his shoulders while his grabbed onto your waist.

He kissed you again, this time a little deeper than before as he ran his tongue along the seam of your lips, and you all too eagerly parted them. He stepped between your thighs, his hips pushing them apart as he pressed closer to you, one hand sliding up into your hair. 

Bucky had, without a doubt, become addicted to kissing you. Even just this felt so much better than anything else he’d done with a woman before you. There was something about you being so shy on the outside, nervous and fidgety when simply talking to him, but so eager and needy when it came to him kissing and touching you that turned him all the way on.

You had a dirty side to you despite your innocent persona, and he wanted to discover every single other side you might have. 

But he could feel himself starting to throb, his jeans growing just a bit tighter, and he broke the kiss with a sigh. He pressed his lips to the band aid on your temple, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to get ahold of himself. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he muttered against your skin, and you let out a soft laugh at that. 

You didn’t initiate another kiss after that, thankfully, because Bucky wasn’t sure if he’d be able to will his dick to not get hard, or harder. It’d been some time since he’d been with a woman, and even then he knew you were definitely the sexiest one he’s seen. 

And while you and he were no longer kissing, you still wanted to be close as you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face against his chest. Bucky wrapped his own arms around you, pulling you against him and burying his face in your hair. 

As much as you are sexy, you are also so fucking sweet.

It’d been a few days since you decided you wanted to stay, and while you and Bucky probably should’ve had a talk about where to go from that, you simply hadn’t. 

Because even though you were new to each other’s lives, you fit right in, and you’d become each other’s new normals. 

It was hot today, and instead of sweating all day doing things around the house, Bucky had pushed aside the house and yard chores, opting to spend the afternoon by the lake instead. 

He’d given you a pair of boxers and a shirt to wear, the two acting as a makeshift swimming set since he still hadn’t taken you out to town to get you some clothes of your own. 

Tomorrow, he’d do that. 

Right now, he liked seeing the damp fabric of his shirt stick to your body.

You were standing in the lake with him, the water up to the middle of your thighs while it was only up to his knees. He didn’t know how long you and he had been out here, but the sun was just starting to set, the heat not nearly as bad as it had been before. 

The water felt nice, and it cooled you both down tremendously. You and Bucky were both soaked, your clothes sticking to your bodies as you simply let the world pass by. 

You’d begun collecting a bunch of rocks that were at the bottom of the lake. You’d set them aside on the dock, and there was a growing pile of… pretty normal looking rocks starting to form. But you found them pretty, so Bucky didn’t judge you for it. 

Bucky left you to do that, bending down and grabbing at rocks you’d felt along the sand with your feet, and turned around to watch the sun as it began slowly lowering down towards the waterline. 

As he took a step forward, he felt his foot brush against something sharp, and he winced, pulling back before he fully stepped on whatever it was. He looked down and through the ripples of the water, he saw part of what looked like a beer bottle sticking out of the sand. 

He grunted and reached into the water to carefully grab it, then looked around the area for a few moments in case there were other pieces nearby. When he couldn’t find any, he moved back towards the dock, shaking his head, “Be careful, sweetheart. There might be glass around where you are. I almost cut my-” but the words died on his tongue when he looked over at you after setting the piece of glass on the dock. 

Bucky shouldn’t be looking. His eyes shouldn’t be lingering where they currently are, but they’d dropped down there without his permission, and he was having a hard time looking away. 

His throat went dry and he stuttered a bit as he tried to finish what he’d been saying, but it was no use. 

It was bad enough that you looked unbelievably hot in his clothes, but the air had gotten cooler, and the water was naturally cold. He knew you couldn’t help the way your body reacts to the cold, more specifically, the way a certain part of your body reacts to it. 

His shirt clung to you, wet and heavy, and he could see the peaks of your breasts pressing against the fabric, and the sight was really doing something to him. 

You furrowed your brows, giving him a look of confusion as you stayed still, and you either didn’t know about the way your nipples were straining against his shirt, or you didn’t think it was a big deal. And it wasn’t, really. That was a natural and normal thing and yet… it had Bucky swallowing harshly as he started to move a little closer to you. 

“You almost what?” you asked, your arms hanging loosely by your sides. When he didn’t answer, you shifted a bit, letting out a soft laugh. “What?” you asked again, then followed his gaze to your chest, and you pressed your lips together tightly. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I didn’t realize I- the water’s cold and I’m wearing wet clothes and the air is kinda chilly.”

You were rambling now as Bucky stopped right in front of you, and the fact that you thought you needed to give excuses for your own body and its reactions had that protective feeling taking over him. 

When you went to cross your arms, he reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, stopping you. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough from the growing arousal he felt building up inside of him. “Don’t be sorry. And don’t be embarrassed. You don’t have to be either of those things. Not with me.”

You looked up at him and swallowed quickly, and he could feel the goosebumps that had formed on your skin - ones he wasn’t sure were just from the cold water and air. “Bucky,” you said, and he dipped his head down and kissed you before you could get another word out. 

His hand released your wrist as he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers tangling in your wet hair as he deepened the kiss right from the start, and you moaned into his mouth as you melted against him. Your arms wound around his shoulders, and you leaned up on the tips of your toes, trying to get as close to him as possible. 

Bucky’s hands slid down and grabbed your ass, lifting you slightly so you weren’t straining yourself as much, and you moaned against his mouth again, making his cock twitch in his shorts. “Fuck. Let me take you home,” he grunted against your mouth, his hands greedily bunching up the fabric of his shirt that hung off your body. “Please. Can I?”

You let out a needy sound, your fingers tangling in his damp hair as you nodded, whispering a soft, “Please,” against his lips. 

And that was all Bucky needed to hear before started to walk you backwards towards the shore, and he was so caught up in the moment, he forgot to keep an eye out for any other pieces of that bottle. Thankfully, you and he made it out of the water with no incidents or injuries, and he kept one arm around your waist, keeping your body against his as you walked the short distance back to his house. 

The front door swung open, the force of it hitting the wall making a few pictures rattle before he shut it loudly behind him. His hands were on your hips, gripping tightly as he pulled you against his body, his lips finding yours once again in a deep kiss. 

Your hands slid up his arms, your nails skimming along his skin and making him feel feral. He licked into your mouth as he guided you backwards towards the hall, and you clung onto him a little tighter, fully trusting him to get you to his room without letting you back into anything. 

When you and he entered his room, Bucky’s hands slid down the backs of your thighs, and he lifted you up, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. He didn’t care that both you and he were still wet and your clothes were soaked as he walked you over to the bed and laid you down on it, his hips settling between your thighs. 

You leaned back on the pillows as he pulled away from your mouth, his hands reaching down to pull off his shirt, and he dropped the wet fabric to the floor before leaning down towards you. 

One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours as your other hand splayed along his abs, and he felt you grin against his mouth. “You’re so big,” you mumbled against his mouth. 

Bucky smirked against your lips, his biceps instinctively flexing at that as he pressed his hips to yours. “Am I?” he questioned, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice as he ran his nose along the curve of your jaw. “Maybe you’re just really small.”

You shook your head at that, your hands wrapping around his biceps, but they couldn’t wrap all the way around them. “No,” you murmured, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. “The guys I’ve been with before, they weren’t nearly as big as you. You’re so much broader and wider and… bigger.”

Bucky’s smirk grew at that, and he was surprised he didn’t feel that jealous at you mentioning you being with other guys, because you just told him that he’s bigger than all of them. That made him feel superior, and he wanted to erase those guys from your memory and replace them with just him. 

“Yeah?” he hummed, giving a slow, experimental roll of his hips against yours. When you let out a soft moan, he did it again, pressing his growing hard-on against you. “Seems like you’ve been with some scrawny dudes then, huh?”

You blushed at that, your teeth digging into your lip as you shook your head. “Maybe,” you whispered, “Or maybe you’re just fucking huge, Bucky.”

He felt his cock twitch at that, and he groaned as he buried his face in your neck. “You have no right to make swearing sound that fucking hot,” he muttered against your skin, and you let out a laugh as you tipped your head back on the pillow. “You just look so sweet and innocent. Doesn’t seem like this sweet mouth is capable of saying things like that.” he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw, and his thumb brushed along your lower lip. 

You hummed, turning your head and nipping softly at the shell of his ear. “I think you’d be surprised at some of the things that come out of my mouth,”

Bucky perked up at your words and he lifted his head, meeting your eyes with a smug grin on his face. “Oh yeah?” he rasped, leaning in and pressing kisses along your cheek. “My sweet girl’s got a dirty side to her?”

You shrugged, reaching down to guide his hands to the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “Guess you’ll just have to find out,”

Bucky groaned, and he kissed you harshly as he bunched up the fabric of his shirt and lifted it up your body, breaking the kiss to rid you of it entirely. He pulled back and looked down at you, feeling his desire spike at the sight of your bare breasts and the full view of your nipples. “Fuck,” he grunted, shaking his head as he moved down a bit. He kissed along the tops of your breasts, gently sucking at your skin as he grabbed onto your hips. “I don’t believe you. You’re far too fucking sweet.”

You bit down on your lip, your eyes locked onto his every move as you shifted under him, your hands sliding up his shoulders and into his hair. “Bucky,” you whimpered, and the sound of you saying his name like that had him bucking his hips against yours. 

He dipped his head down even lower. “You look sweet. You sound sweet,” he mumbled against your skin as his lips brushed along your nipple. “You taste sweet,” You let out a weak moan at that, and he smirked against your skin once more. “Think my sweet girl is incapable of being dirty. But I’ll get you there. I’ll make you mine in every way.”

You moaned louder, your back arching a bit as you tried to push your chest closer to his face, just as greedy for him as he is for you. 

“You want that?” he asked, his voice deeper than before as his big hands came up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing along your nipples. 

“Yes,” you gasped, writhing under him. “Please, Bucky. Please.”

As pretty as you sounded when you begged, Bucky didn’t want to make you wait any longer. He wrapped his mouth around your nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth. He grunted, his eyes closing as he sucked on the peak, his tongue running along the bud as you let out a moan. 

His other hand continued to roll your other one, tugging gently as your head fell back on the pillow, your own eyes fluttering shut. When he switched to your other nipple, you whimpered, pushing your chest up against him more firmly. “You’re so responsive,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses all over your breasts as his hands slid down your body. “You gonna let me touch you down here?” he asked, running his finger along the waistline of his boxers. 

You pressed your lips together as you opened your eyes, your gaze instantly meeting his. “Yes,” you answered softly, “Please.”

Bucky grunted, kissing his way down your body. “Listen to you. You’re so fucking sweet,” he muttered, his fingers hooking into the damp fabric. He slowly pulled it down your thighs, then your legs, then let it fall to the floor to join the other shedded clothing. He leaned in close, his hands spreading your thighs apart as he settled in between them. Before he did anything else, he looked up at you, his eyes focused while his mouth watered with need to taste you. “You let me know if I need to stop, okay? If I’m doing anything that makes you uncomfortable or if you don’t feel good, you stop me, yeah?”

Your eyes widened at that, as if you’d never had someone say anything of the sort to you before, and you nodded slowly. “Yeah. I will. Promise,”

Bucky smiled, small and genuine, before he let himself look at the most private, and in his eyes, one of the most beautiful parts of you. He leaned in close, his lips dragging along your inner thigh before the tip of his nose brushed against your clit, and you jolted at just that. “Sensitive, hm?” he teased softly. 

“Been awhile,” you breathed, lifting your hips as you looked down at him with a pleading expression on your face. 

Bucky smiled up at you, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I’ll make you so spoiled, baby.”

Your breath hitched at that, and he finally allowed himself to taste the part of you he’d been dying to taste for a shamefully long time. He ran his tongue along your folds, collecting the wetness that had gathered there on the muscle while also leaving behind some of his own. 

A deep, pleased grunt came from the back of his throat, and just from that first taste alone, he was hooked. 

Bucky grabbed onto your thighs with gentle hands and guided your legs over his shoulders, then buried his face in your pussy. He basked in the string of moans you let out, your body shifting while you tried to push yourself closer to him. 

He pinned your hips down, his thumbs running along the bones as he slid his tongue along your seam yet again, then dipped it inside. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he grunted, breathing you in as his fingers curled around your waist. “Taste so fucking good, baby. Could stay down here for the rest of the night.”

You whimpered, already greedy for him as you shook your head. “No,” you moaned, “Want you to fuck me, Bucky.”

He let out a pleased hum, purposely bumping his nose against your clit. “And I will, baby,” he promised, “But I need my fill of you first. I want to make you feel so good, sweetheart. Make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

You squirmed at that, your body heating up as your hands fisted the sheets at either side of your hips. “You already do that. You’ve been doing that since the night I met you,”

Bucky felt his heart clench, and he gave your hips a gentle squeeze. “I want to keep doing it,” he said, sliding his hands up your body until they were covering your breasts. “If you’ll let me.”

“Yes,” you moaned, nodding quickly afterwards. “I will. I want you, Bucky. I only want you.”

He grinned, turning his head and giving your inner thigh a chaste kiss before he slid his tongue between your folds again then wrapped his lips around your clit. He gently sucked it into his mouth and he could practically feel the way your nerves throbbed against his tongue. “That feel good, baby?” he asked when he briefly pulled away and watched as you nodded again, just as fast as before. 

“So good,” you moaned, “Keep going. Please.”

Bucky had a feeling he’d never deny you of anything, especially when you begged him like that. He was already so down bad for you, he was certain he’d do anything you wanted, and right now you wanted his mouth back on your pussy. 

His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you down to the bed as he buried his face in you, his eyes shutting as he drank you in. Your taste, your scent, the way you sounded when he slipped his tongue inside of you. 

Your hips tried to lift off the bed, but he held them down, easily overpowering you in a way he knew you enjoyed rather than felt threatened by. You only shared a little bit of your past with him, short stories here and there that gave him a glimpse into the way you were forced to live before. You didn’t have a choice, but now you do, and he wants you to always know that. 

A soft, needy sound left your lips, and it went straight to his cock. Bucky refrained from thrusting into his bed, opting to hope that he’d get his relief later after he’s made you cum on his tongue. 

Your hands slid down into his hair, and your fingers tangled in the strands as you moaned for him. The feeling of your nails gently scratching along his scalp felt unbelievably good after not feeling it for so long. You mentioned it being a while for you since you’d last done this, and it had been quite a while for him too. 

When he returned his mouth to your clit and sucked on it, you jolted in his hold, your fingers pulling on his hair. “Fuck,” you moaned, looking down at him with worried eyes. “Is that okay? Did I hurt you?”

You’d suffered unimaginable pain, so it made sense that you were cautious when potentially inflicting pain onto someone else, but in all honesty, Bucky didn’t think you’d ever be able to hurt him. At least not like that. Your hands felt like heaven, and he was greedy to feel them all the time. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. More than okay,” he promised, removing one hand from your hip and sliding his fingers along your folds, collecting your wetness. “You didn’t hurt me. You can do whatever you want to me, okay?”

You pressed your lips tightly together at that, looking down at him at the same time he lifted his gaze to you, and your fingers ran along the length of his cheek as you gave him a look that told him everything you didn’t say. “Okay,” you whispered, your brows furrowing when he slowly pushed two fingers into you. 

The tight, wet walls of your cunt stretched around his fingers, only further proving that it had definitely been a while since someone touched you. That or you were just tighter than normal. Either way, Bucky was more than willing to get you prepared and to make sure he didn’t hurt you in any way.

You gasped when he pushed his fingers in all the way, your tight walls clinging to him as you let your eyes flutter shut. 

Bucky kept his eyes on you as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, trying to read your every expression. “You like that?” he asked, his voice a lot deeper than before as his own desire built more and more. He was unbelievably turned on, and the sounds you were making for him weren’t helping his case at all, and yet it would be even worse if you were to stop making them. 

You nodded slowly, going silent with your words as you gently scraped your nails along his scalp. And while he liked to hear you confirm how you’re feeling with words, you’d been incredibly vocal about it since the very beginning, so he didn’t feel like he was overstepping this time. 

His mouth returned to your clit, his tongue gently flicking over the bud a few times before he wrapped his lips around it once again. Your body jolted, your fingers tightening in his hair as you let out soft sounds and whimpers that only fueled his desire for you. 

When his teeth grazed your clit, you gasped, your hands tugging at his hair seemingly out of instinct. He could feel how you were tightening even more around his fingers, your moans becoming louder and more consistent. “You’re close,” he murmured, not a question but simply an observation as he thrust his fingers into you a little faster than before. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding quickly as you arched your back and bucked your hips, trying to get impossibly closer to him. “Please… please.”

Fuck, you sounded so pretty. 

Bucky worked his fingers in and out of you, his tongue running over the pulsing, sensitive bud above where his fingers are. “Want to feel you cum for me,” he rasped, his other hand sliding up your body until it reached your breast, and he covered the soft mound with his palm. “Want to make you feel so good, sweetheart.”

A sharper, more desperate sound tumbled out of your mouth at that, and you were starting to shake, your legs beginning to tremble at either side of his head. Your back arched even more as your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucking them in deeper as he felt you grow warmer and wetter. “Fuck,”

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky praised, keeping the pace of his fingers for a few more moments before he pulled them out, only to replace them with his tongue. He licked you all over, cleaning up your mess while leaving behind one of his own, and he only relented when you cried out and jerked away from his mouth, your fingers scratching at his head as he worked you to near over stimulation. 

He pulled back, sitting up on his knees and bringing his hand up to his lips. He sucked his wet fingers into his mouth, cleaning them of your wetness with a deep, satisfied and shameless groan, all while looking at you like you were the single most hottest thing he’d ever seen. You definitely were. 

You writhed on the bed, and he wanted to burn the image of you like this into his head, because you looked undeniably sexy and sated but also needy and desperate. 

When his hands moved to your thighs, your own came to cover them as your chest rose and fell unevenly, your eyes hooded and your bottom lip puffy from how hard you’d bitten on it. 

Bucky smiled down at you, his hands running up and down your smooth skin that was now void of bruises, and only had faint scratches that were almost fully healed. “Anyone ever tell you how fucking beautiful you are?”

You blushed at that, writhing more as you wrapped your hands around his wrists and tried to bring him closer. “Not very often,” you mumbled, and Bucky shook his head. 

“Too bad for them,” he muttered, spreading your thighs once more and guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he settled his hips between them once again. “‘Cause you’re fucking gorgeous, sweetheart. Every single fucking part of you.”

He leaned in and kissed you after that, not letting you say anything in return as he shared your taste with you. His hips rolled forward, the rough material of his shorts rubbing against your bare, sensitive core and making you whine into his mouth. “Bucky. I need you,” you breathed, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. “I want to feel you. Want to make you feel good now.”

Bucky hummed against your mouth, kissing you deeply again. “Sweet girl,” he mumbled in between kisses. He placed a few more before pulling back. “Trust me when I say that what I just did to you made me feel good too. Never wanted to see someone cum so badly before in my life.”

You huffed out a gasp at that, your legs locking tighter around his waist as you pulled him closer. “Bucky,”

He smirked softly, pulling back just enough to be able to reach in between yours and his body. “Alright, baby,” he murmured, unzipping and pushing down his shorts and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and thick and long, already slick at the tip with pre-cum. 

Bucky hadn’t been this painfully hard in a long time, to the point where even the pressure of his own hand stung a bit before it faded to relief. He saw the way your head lifted to look down at him, and his smirk grew when he saw the way your stomach muscles fluttered a bit. “Oh… shit,” you breathed, your hands coming up to wrap around his biceps. 

He kept one hand around his cock, giving himself a slow, almost teasing stroke as his other hand grabbed your hip, his thumb rubbing gentle circles onto your skin. “What’s the matter?” he murmured, having a feeling he already knew exactly what you were thinking. 

You confirmed it when you whispered, “You’re… really big,” in a voice that held both need and obvious shock. 

“Yeah?” Bucky cooed softly, his hand raising to your face, and he tucked some of your messy hair behind your ear. “You don’t think it’ll fit?”

You shook your head, your grip on his arms tightening. “No, I really don’t,” 

Bucky guided his cock to your pussy, rubbing its length along your folds. “But you’re so wet for me, baby,” he said, his voice holding a hint of teasing as he watched himself become coated in your slick. “Bet I could just slide right in and you’d just take me.”

Your body shuddered at either his words or his actions, or possibly both, before you looked up at his face. “Okay. Just be slow, please?” you asked, as if he’d rush you into anything after you’ve already told him it’d been a while since the last time you had sex. 

“Of course,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Do you… have a condom?” you asked, making him wince, his lips turning into a frown against your skin. 

He pulled back and groaned, shutting his eyes tightly, “No. Fuck,” he grunted, pulling back even more. “I haven’t really been with a lot of women while living here, so I never bothered to have those around. Really wish I did now though.”

You gave him a small smile as you cradled his face in your hands, your thumbs rubbing along his stubbled cheeks. “It’s okay,”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. We kinda rushed into this without thinking of that, huh?” he muttered, “I can get you off with my mouth and fingers again, and then I can… jerk off or something. I didn’t think I’d be having sex anytime soon, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared for this.”

You let out a quiet laugh as you shook your head in return, guiding his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. “Bucky, it’s okay,” you said again, pulling him back to you so he was flush against your body once again. “I don’t… I’m okay with not using a condom tonight, if you are. You said you wanted to take me into town to get some stuff at some point, maybe we can go tomorrow and get, like, Plan B or something? And condoms.”

Bucky felt his shoulders drop at that, shamelessly feeling relieved that, despite the absolute lack of protection between you and him, he was still allowed to fuck you. He braced himself on one hand beside your head, his other one trailing down your body. “You got it all figured out, huh?” he teased, watching the way you squirmed a bit under him. 

“I want to feel you,” you said simply, shrugging after, “I want you to fuck me.”

And fuck did he want that too. It sounded so good coming from your mouth, and he had a feeling you wanted it nearly as much as he did, which was an ungodly amount. 

“Yeah?” he said lowly, reaching down to grasp his cock again, and he guided himself to your entrance but didn’t push in yet. “Good. ‘Cause I want to fuck you too.”

You whined at that, bucking your hips against his as you wrapped your legs around his waist, as if you were trying to push him in yourself. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, tugging him into a kiss, and he was done for. 

He slowly pushed the tip of his cock past your folds, sinking the first few inches inside you and feeling the way your walls already fluttered around him. “Fuck,” he grunted into your mouth, sliding his hand up to your hip and holding onto you tightly. His other hand fisted the pillow beside your head, his jaw clenching as he held back from thrusting all the way inside you. 

You were tight. Really fucking tight, and it felt impossible to push any further without hurting you. Your cunt was gripping him like a second skin, clinging onto him as tightly as he was clinging onto you, and he broke the kiss to bump his forehead against yours. 

“You… you gotta tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he said, sounding a little desperate as he twisted the pillow between his fingers. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. I don’t wanna… fuck, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

Your hands were gripping his shoulders tightly, your body tense under his as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re not hurting me, Bucky,” you breathed, knees digging into his hips as he stayed still. “You’re just… big. Really big.” 

Bucky smirked softly, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You need a minute?” 

Shaking your head, you slid one hand around to his back, pressing on it gently. “No. You can keep going,”

He nodded, burying his face in your neck as he pushed in deeper, going all the way until his hips were against yours, and his cock was buried all the way inside of you. He stilled once again, letting out a deep, strangled groan against your skin as he felt you tighten around him, your hand sliding up his back and into his hair. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, slowly pulling his hips back just a bit before pushing forward again, his eyes closing at the feeling. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

You moaned at his words, then again when pulled his hips back and repeated the motion, your head falling back on the pillow. “So do you,” came your quiet reply, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

After a few moments, he found a deep, steady rhythm, one that had him pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in again to the hilt. Each thrust allowed him to see how tight you were, your walls stretching around him every time he pulled back. His cock was covered in your slick, making every slide back in easier than the last. 

Bucky’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your hip, his deep groans lost to your neck as he kept his face buried there. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to physically stop himself from coming way too soon if he were to pull back and watch you - the sounds you were making already being too much to begin with. 

He kept his pace slower than he’s used to. Usually he has no problem with a quick fuck with a girl that left him and her satisfied and straining himself just enough to fall asleep afterwards. 

But he wanted to savor this with you, even though you’d made it clear that you wanted to do this many more times in the future, as did he. 

His hips rolled against yours, knocking gently against your own with every thrust. Your moans were going directly into his ear, each one making him push a little harder every time he pulled back. 

Your hands grasped at his face, pulling his head away from your shoulder. “Bucky,” you moaned, and he grunted instantly in response. “Look at me.”

He shook his head, his cheek pressing against yours as his hand finally released the pillow and grabbed onto your other hip. “I can’t,” he rasped, his eyes falling shut as he fucked into you a little faster. “You feel too fucking good, sweetheart. Too perfect. I can’t-”

“Please,” you begged, your heels digging into his lower back and trying to pull him impossibly closer despite him being as close as he could physically be. “Please, Bucky, look at me.”

And he couldn’t deny you. 

He pulled back, his eyes opening and meeting yours. The way you were looking at him was the exact reason he refused to look at you before. You were looking at him like you trusted him more than anyone else in the whole world, like you were willingly giving him your heart and letting him do whatever he wanted with it. 

Your brows were pushed nearly all the way together, your eyes were hooded and glazed over, and your lips were curved upwards in a soft, lazy smile. 

The way you were looking at him made him feel unlike anything he’d ever felt in his entire life, and he knew right then and there that he had fallen in love with you. He didn’t care that it was fast, and he had no idea when he’d fallen in love with you, but somewhere along taking you in, healing your wounds, and becoming your safe place, he’d fallen in love with you. 

Bucky dropped his forehead to yours, his breath gently fanning along your lips as he rocked into you quicker, his hand sliding around you to your backside. “I need you to cum for me, baby,” he breathed, his hand covering one side of your ass as he pulled you against him with every thrust. “Need to feel you cum for me, sweetheart. Want to make you fall apart again.”

You moaned at that, pulling his chest down against yours so he could feel the way your breasts bounced softly every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Don’t stop, Bucky,” you murmured, keeping one hand tangled tightly in his hair while your other one raked down his back, your nails barely dragging along his skin. 

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, swallowing each and every moan you let out for him like the greedy man he’d become for you. His teeth bumped against yours as he started to fuck you a little faster and a little harder, his hand squeezing your ass while the other one slid up your back and tangled in your hair. “Cum for me,” he grunted against your mouth, the sound of the bed beginning to creak alongside yours and his moans. “C’mon, sweetheart, let go for me. I want to feel you cum all over my cock.”

You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin as he felt your cunt clench tightly around him. “Fuck,” you moaned against his mouth before detaching your own from it. Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tensing up in the way it did before when you came on his mouth and fingers, and only a few seconds later he felt the way your walls became slicker, warmer and tighter, squeezing and sucking him in deeper. 

Bucky grunted, keeping the same pace as he watched your every move and reaction, wanting to memorize the way you look right now and keep the sight locked away for the rest of his life. He held off as long as he could until you were whining and writhing, then he was there too. 

You insinuated before that you were okay with him coming inside you, and he’d planned on asking you again before he did it, but the only thought on his mind was how perfect and wet and tight you are, and any rational thought left his mind as he buried himself inside you one last time before he came. 

He filled you up, his hips jerking a little out of his control as he dropped his forehead back to yours, deep, tired groans leaving his mouth. His chest heaved unevenly against yours as he stilled, feeling the excess beads of cum leak from the tip of his cock as your walls fluttered around him. 

You looked like you were in a daze under him, your lips kiss swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your body covered in a light layer of sweat. He could only assume he looked similar to the way you do right now. 

Your arms locked around his shoulders, your legs staying around his waist as you pulled him down onto you, his body completely covering yours as you kissed him again, a lot less deeper than before but just as needy.

Neither of you said a word for a long time after that. You stayed cuddled in each other’s arms, kissing each other’s mouths and bodies as you both came down. 

It wasn’t until what felt like an hour later when he finally pulled back and almost fully detached himself from you when he asked if you were okay, and if he had hurt you at all while being caught up in the moment. 

But you’d simply shook your head, pulled him close again, and then fell asleep with your head on his chest. 

And after that, his bed became his bed again, and it also became yours.

It was late in the morning since you and Bucky had both become quite worn out after the intense night you’d both had, you ended up sleeping in longer than either of you thought you would. 

He had no idea what time it was. All he could think about was you, more specifically, the way you felt around him. 

After last night, he’d become addicted to you like he knew he would. You’d completely fucking ruined him, and now he was sure he’d never be able to get into this very bed without thinking of the first time he fucked you on it. 

You were on your side, your fingers laced loosely with his as he filled you with his cock over and over again from behind. You told him you were a bit sore, so he was being as gentle as he could right now, his hips rolling slowly against your ass. 

His arm was wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in as your cunt swallowed him over and over again. 

While the sex had been quite passionate last night and nothing short of amazing, this time it was much slower, much lazier and less desperate. He was still just as fucked up on you now as he’d been last night, but he felt more assured that this was it for him, that he’d get to do this with you for a long time. Last night gave him all the reassurance he needed. 

He squeezed your fingers between his, turning his head and pressing kisses all along your bare shoulder, trailing them up to the scar just under your jaw. It’d been a long time since he’d woken up with a woman in his arms and an ache on his chest from where your head had been resting all night, and he hadn’t realized just how much he’d wanted to wake up just like that for so long now. 

Bucky had been by himself for so long, purposely distancing himself from too much interaction with people he wasn’t close to, he’d denied himself the privilege of allowing someone into his life to change it for the better. He’d never allowed himself to find his person, never gave anyone a chance.

Until you fell over your own two feet and stumbled head first into his life, and it didn’t get any more literal than that. 

But he has you now. He wants you, and he wants to wake up with you like this every day now. 

He wanted to watch as you slowly woke up, see first hand how beautiful you look first thing in the morning after fully relaxing all night. He wanted to share his bed with you every night, share his house with you every day, and become as important to you in your life as you’d become to his. 

He wanted to start and end each day with you, feel the way you squeezed him so tight whenever he’s buried inside of you, watch how you become even prettier each time you fall apart for him, and he wanted to watch you blossom into a happier, confident and more carefree version of yourself that was so unlike the one he’d met what felt like months ago. 

Because even though he’d fallen in love with that version of you too, he was head over heels for the one currently shaking in his arms and coming on his cock. 

You buried your face in his arm as your body trembled against his, and Bucky wasn’t far behind you as he filled you up just like how he did last night. 

He huffed out a laugh when you turned in his arms and cuddled up against his warm chest, and he pulled you close as he caught his breath. “I think we need a shower first,” he said, propping his chin on the top of your head. “Then I’ll take you to town and we’ll get you some new clothes and whatever else you need.”

You hummed, placing your hands flat against his chest. “And condoms?” you teased, making him laugh again. 

“Yes, and condoms,”

It took you and Bucky another two hours to pull yourselves together, detach yourselves from one another, get ready and go into town. 

He didn’t really know where to take you since he’d never gone out shopping with a woman solely in mind, but he did know that the part of town with all the shops attached together along the street was a good place to start. 

A pharmacy was across the street from where he parked his truck, and the first store he saw on the right side of the street was a clothing store, so he guided you into that one. 

“I don’t need much,” you quickly said as you and he walked through the doors, one of his arms wrapped around your waist as he let you lead. “Just, like… maybe a new bra? The one I’m wearing might rip before we even make it home. And maybe a couple pairs of underwear? And a couple shirts, and a pair of jeans.”

Bucky held back his laugh as he looked down at you with a lifted brow. You were wearing his jeans that were held up by a belt he had to poke a new hole into since the tightest one still didn’t keep the jeans up on your hips, and they were baggy at the bottom. You were also wearing one of his shirts and a jacket, both of which looked huge on you since none of his clothing would ever fit you, and yet you thought you just needed a single pair of jeans and some shirts?

“I think you need a bit more than that, sweetheart,” Bucky said, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “You can pick out some outfits you like and some jackets too, so you can have options.”

You winced, shaking your head as you stopped just in front of a table stacked with different sized jeans. “I don’t want to spend all your money,”

Bucky actually did laugh at that, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, right on your healing wound that no longer needed a band aid on it. “We’ve been over this. I won’t be breaking the bank from buying eggs every month, and I won’t break it by buying you more than one pair of jeans either,”

“That’s different. Eggs are food and you need food-”

“And you need clothes to wear that don’t make you trip every time you walk. Though I do find you very hot in my clothes,” he said, smirking when he saw you shrink a bit at his words. “I can afford to buy you things you need too, like clothes and hair products that don’t smell like pine and whiskey and… whatever else you might need.”

You bit down on your lip, looking down at the various different shades of blue jeans in front of you. Your hand reached out and ran along ones that were close to the same shade you were wearing right now, but in your actual size, then you looked up at him. “Okay,” you relented, giving him a sheepish smile. “Thank you.”

Bucky smiled back, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back and nodding towards the back of the store where the shoes were. “Pick out some new sneakers and boots too,”

After that, you became less shy and appeared to be feeling less guilty about having him spend money on you, even though he assured you that he had more than enough to cover anything you might need. 

You’d picked out three pairs of jeans, a couple shorts, eight shirts, five sets of pyjamas, a new jacket, sneakers and boots, and you had to look away when the total came up on the register, but Bucky simply swiped his card before taking your hand and the two bags and pulling you along. 

You looked at the various choices of underwear, but you felt a little self conscious for some reason, and he offered letting you go into the store just up the street that was full of just bras and underwear by yourself with his card so you could get an update on your size and pick out some stuff without him hovering, and you agreed. 

Just before you left the store, you stopped when you saw the display for the jewellery. There were rings varying from engagement rings to ones you’d wear around the house, some bracelets and some necklaces, and you paused when you caught sight of a silver necklace with a charm of a tree on it. 

Before you could look at it for too long, you tried to pull away and tug him with you towards the exit, but Bucky stayed still, tugging you back to him. “You can look at these, sweetheart, it’s fine,” he said gently, guiding you back over to the display case. 

You gave him a grateful smile as you stepped towards it again, standing just in front of it. “Just a look,” you agreed, your eyes going back to that same necklace with the tree charm. You smiled a bit bigger as he came up to stand behind you, wrapping one arm around your middle as he leaned down and rested his chin on your shoulder. “This is pretty. Reminds me of your place since it’s surrounded by trees.”

Bucky hummed in agreement, his hand splaying along your lower stomach. “That’s true. It is pretty too,” he said, “Maybe you should add some accessories to all these new outfits you got-”

But before he could finish his offer, you turned your head and tensed up in his hold, your body going rigid against his. He turned his head instantly, looking in the direction you were before you pulled away and grabbed his hand. “We should go get that Plan B,” you said, surprising him with the sudden change of subject, but he didn’t resist as you pulled him with you towards the exit. “The sooner you use it, the more effective it is, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky said back, looking over his shoulder in another attempt to see what had set you off like that, but he only saw the backside of an older woman further in the store, then he couldn’t see anything as the door closed behind him. He turned to you, noticing the way you didn’t meet his eyes as you looked across the street at the pharmacy. He frowned as he hesitantly took your hand in his, and you thankfully didn’t pull away, instead lacing your fingers with his. “Everything okay?”

That made you look over at him, and your worried expression softened just a bit as you nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yes,” you answered, “Just realized we had sex twice in the last twelve hours, and I don’t know if that will impact the pill at all. And as much as I strongly believe you’d make some really cute kids, being a mother right now is not high on my list of priorities.”

Bucky laughed at that and nodded in agreement, guiding you with him as he walked across the street once it was safe to do so. “Yeah, as much as I want to be a dad someday, I’m also not in a rush,” he said, pulling open the door to the pharmacy and holding it open for you. 

After buying both a Plan B pill and a twenty four pack box of condoms, Bucky took the pharmacy bag from you and led you back across the street where his truck is. “You can head to that store down there and pick out some stuff,” he said, opening the backseat door and putting the bags inside. He turned to you and handed you his card, giving you a smug smile. “Get whatever you need. Maybe something pretty for me too,” he added, loving the way you got all flustered whenever he said things like that to you despite him finding out for himself that you have a dirty side to you as well. “You can just tap it, but if it doesn’t work, the code is 1977.”

You pressed your lips together at that, taking the card from him, “I can’t believe you trust me with that. What if I were to run off with your card and steal all your money?”

Bucky shrugged, shutting the truck door and locking it afterwards. “Guess I’ll just have to give all the stuff in my backseat to the next girl who gets lost in the woods and scares away my dinner,” he said back, and you glared up at him before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into a firm kiss. 

“I’ll be back soon,” you said against his mouth, and he grinned, kissing you again. 

“Take your time,” he said back, “I’m in no rush.” 

He watched as you turned and made your way down the street, and he waited until you entered the store before pushing himself away from where he was leaning against his truck, and he walked back into the store you and he were in only ten minutes ago. 

He forgot about the woman or whatever you’d seen that made you leave the store so quickly before, his eyes locked onto the display case with the necklace you were eyeing inside it. 

Bucky stopped an employee as she was walking by and asked if he could see the necklace, and she all too happily unlocked the side of it and pulled it out for him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around town, James,” the woman said, and he looked up at her when she placed the necklace on top of the case. 

He kind of recognized her from when he lived closer to town, and he was sure he’d talked to her a couple times at one point if she knew his name. “Oh, yeah,” he said, reaching for the dainty silver chain and picking it up. “I don’t go shopping very often, especially not around here, no offense,” he added, but she just waved him off. “Just needed to grab some stuff for my… girlfriend.” he finished, unsure if he should be calling you that since you and he hadn’t actually talked about what you are yet.

“Yeah, I saw you with her when you first came in. She’s really pretty, seems sweet too,” she smiled, looking down at the necklace in his palm. 

“She’s so fucking sweet,” Bucky agreed, forgetting to use his manners for a second as he gave her an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, I meant… she’s way too sweet for me. But I think I’ll keep her around anyway.”

The woman laughed and waved him off again, then nodded at the necklace. “Well this is a great way to ensure she’ll stick around,” she teased, “It’s a beautiful necklace.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, dangling the chain from his fingers as he looked at it for a few more seconds. “I’m gonna surprise her with it,” he said, setting it down as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. 

“Perfect,” the woman said, reaching back into the case and pulling out the box the necklace had been placed in before. Once it was secured in the box, she nodded for him to follow her to the register. “She’s one lucky girl you got there, James.” she added as she took the cash he’d handed to her. 

Bucky smiled at that, sliding the box into his jacket pocket. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” he said back, giving her a kind nod before telling her to keep the change as he left the store to go back to his truck and wait for you.

You were in the bedroom, changing into one of the new outfits you’d got today while Bucky was in the kitchen, sipping on the coffee he’d picked up on the way home. 

He stripped himself of his jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs as he opened the fridge and looked inside to see what he felt like making for dinner. The windows were open, letting the chilled evening air fill the space of the living room and kitchen and create a comfortable temperature throughout the house. 

Just as Bucky took a step towards the open fridge to pull out the chicken he decided he wanted to cook, the sound of the bedroom door opening made him pause, and he looked over at the hallway just as you stepped out. 

You were wearing a pair of your new jeans that were a baby blue shade and fit you perfectly, and a white fitted top, and on your feet were the new pair of sneakers you’d picked out that were pristine and clean compared to your old, dirty ones. 

The outfit was simple, and yet to Bucky you looked hot, especially when he let himself think about what was hiding under those clothes. He let the fridge door close as he stepped away from it, letting out a low whistle as he moved towards you. “Damn,” he said, making you laugh as you met him halfway. “You look good, sweetheart. Real fucking good.”

You smiled up at him, draping your arms around his shoulders at the same time his own wrapped around your waist, and he pulled your body against his. Before you could say anything, he leaned down and kissed you, making you sigh against his lips as you kissed him back. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled back just a bit, smiling against his mouth, “Just wait until you see what I picked out when you weren’t with me,” you said against his lips. 

Bucky groaned, already prepared to forget all about dinner and just take you to bed now, but just as he grabbed your hips and turned you so he could walk you right back down that hallway and into the bedroom, the sound of the front door opening made him stop. 

“Oh,” he heard the sound of his sister’s voice, and he groaned against your mouth again, pulling away from you. He looked over and watched as she shut the door behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well. This is a surprise. Hello.”

You pulled back even more, looking over at her with wide eyes. “Hi,” you said, giving her a kind but confused smile before looking up at Bucky. 

He gave you a tight smile, dropping his arms to his sides. “That’s Becca, my sister,” he told you, and you looked over at her again with a bigger smile. 

“Oh,” you breathed, “I didn’t know Bucky had a sister. Hi.”

Becca laughed, looking between you and Bucky with equally confused eyes. “Hi,” she said back, “That’s okay. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend either.”

Bucky winced, closing his eyes as you let out a sound of shock. “No, we’re… well, I guess we kind of are? Maybe? Probably?” you said, looking over at him again for help, and Bucky just propped his hands on his hips. 

“You staying for dinner, Becs?” he asked, “I’m making chicken parm.”

Becca lit up at that, and she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it aside onto the couch. “Oh, well, I couldn’t say no to that,” she said, striding over to you. “It gives me time to get to know your kind of, maybe girlfriend.”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, and Bucky instantly noticed the way you jumped a bit at the contact. He’d been the only person to touch you since you ran away from home, so to have someone you didn’t know grab you like that was probably very alarming for you, even if Becca’s intentions were nothing but good. 

Bucky stepped forward, gently pulling your arm free and guiding you over to the couch. “Here, sweetheart, why don’t you sit with Becca and talk while I get started on dinner?” he said quickly, looking over his shoulder and noticing that the confused expression was once again on his sister’s face. 

“Okay,” you agreed slowly, sitting down on the couch he’d put you on that very first night. You looked up at him, and you must’ve been able to see the concern in his eyes, because you gave his hand a soft squeeze. “You’ll let me know if I can help?” you asked, and Bucky smiled and nodded. 

“Of course,” he said, leaning down and kissing the side of your head. He turned back to Becca, then wrapped his arms around her in a hug, finally properly greeting her as he muttered, “She’s been through a lot. I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Becca nodded, not understanding fully but agreeing anyway as she returned the hug before pulling away and walking over to you. He watched her sit down next to you, and he smiled at the way you already seemed to have calmed back down and were smiling at his sister again. 

He let himself watch for a few more seconds before he walked back over to the fridge to get started on dinner, the sound of you laughing at something Becca said filling the space that had been quiet for far too long.

“Sorry for interrupting earlier,” Becca said as she leaned back in the chair, her plate empty like yours and Bucky’s were. “If I had known my brother finally landed himself a girl, I would’ve knocked or something. I usually come by twice a month since Bucky grows the best tasting tomatoes ever, and I steal them from him.”

You smiled at her as Bucky scratched the back of his head, but the smug grin on his face told you both that he wasn’t embarrassed at the interruption at all. “It’s okay,” you said, wiping your hands on a piece of paper towel. “I’m really happy you came over. I was curious when I’d get to meet Bucky’s family.”

Becca perked up at that, looking over at him. “Is that so? Well, Buck, you need to bring her over to mom’s place and let her experience how good her cooking is,” she said, her gaze returning to you. “Our mother is a natural cook, and she’s probably one of the best cooks in the world, if I do say so myself.”

You smiled at that, nodding, “I’d love to meet her one day,” you said, and Bucky felt his heart clench in his chest. He wanted to take you to meet his mother, too, which is something he never thought he’d do with anyone any time soon. 

He began gathering the dishes, but you quickly stood up and waved him off. “Bucky, leave it. I’ll clean up,” you said, but he shook his head. 

“It’s alright, baby, I-”

“Bucky, you cooked, let me clean, okay?” you cut him off, making him pause, and he heard the snort from Becca at the interaction before he set his plate back down. 

“Alright. Fine,” he said, stepping away from the table. 

“Thank you,” you said, already beginning to gather the plates and utensils. “Go give your sister your tomatoes and talk for a bit. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”

Bucky smiled at that, trying to not show his sister how gone he already was for you as he gestured for her to get up. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, reaching for his jacket and pulling it over his shoulders. Becca gave him a teasing look, then cackled as he gently shoved her towards the door, but he stopped when he was close to you. He leaned in and kissed your cheek, watching how you instantly smiled. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smiled bigger, then shooed him away. 

Outside, Bucky caught up with Becca, who was already rounding the house to his garden. He wasn’t sure how to start the conversation he knew he was about to have with her, so he just said the first thing that was on his mind, “Thank you for being so nice to her,” 

Becca shrugged, bending down in front of the tomato plants. “She’s a nice girl herself,” she said, beginning to pick at the ripe ones. 

“Yeah, she is,” Bucky agreed, moving to kneel down next to her. 

“She must be special if you’re giving her things like that necklace you have in that jacket pocket,” she said casually, and Bucky paused. 

He looked down at his jacket, then back at her with narrowed eyes. “How did you-” but the look she gave him had him shutting up, because of course she somehow managed to snoop around in his things. She had been sitting on the chair he’d draped this jacket over, and he had no doubt she’d managed a peak at it while he’d been distracted by you. “Yeah. She is special,” he said, and she nodded, “How much did she tell you? About what happened?”

Becca shrugged, handing him the tomatoes before she started picking at the other plant. “Not too much. She just said that my brother helped her out of a really dark place and saved her, and how she wants to be able to spend the rest of her life making up for it,”

Bucky’s heart skipped at that, and he suddenly felt the urge to turn around, go back inside and take you into his arms. He blew out a soft breath, nodding, “Yeah, that’s part of it. She ran away from home, an abusive home, and she would’ve died if she didn’t find me that day. I took her home and let her stay until she felt like she was ready to be on her own again, but…”

Becca paused and looked up at him, “But you fell in love with her already, didn’t you?” she said, not a single trace of judgement or pity in her tone. Bucky nodded slowly, and she tilted her head. “And you didn’t want her to go, because you didn’t want to be alone again.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing at his face. “Is that selfish?”

“She stayed, didn’t she?” Becca shrugged, “You didn’t force her to stay here, did you?”

“No,” he quickly answered, “Of course not. I was prepared to watch her walk right back out of my life if that was what she wanted to do, but… she wanted to stay.”

Becca stood up, making Bucky look up at her from his knelt position. “Then I see nothing selfish about that,” she said, and somehow those words made him feel ten times better about everything, because he had been worried he’d been keeping you from living your life, giving you a place to live in the middle of nowhere when you could be somewhere more lively. 

But you wanted to be here. With him. 

Bucky stood up too, giving her a small smile. “Thanks, Becs,”

She smiled back, beginning to walk back to her car so she could put the tomatoes in the basket she has in her backseat. As they passed by the kitchen window, Bucky looked over and watched you as you washed the dishes, looking relaxed and comfortable and safe inside his home. 

Becca nudged his arm with her elbow, making him tear his eyes off you. “I know she said you saved her, and quite literally at that,” she started, a genuine smile taking over her face. “But I’m pretty sure she saved you too. From a lonely life here all by yourself, with only your hand to keep you company.”

Bucky scoffed out a laugh at that, nudging her right back. “You’re the worst,” he said, but he knew the first part of her statement was true. He believes you saved him just as much as he saved you. 

“You love me,” she said, opening her car door and grabbing the basket. “I’ll get outta your hair soon so you two can get back to mauling each other.”

The sound of loud knocking at twelve in the morning woke both you and Bucky up, your body jumping against his under the sheets. 

It had been just over two weeks since that trip into town, and you and Bucky had been living in pure bliss. He’d ordered you a phone he planned to pick up in town soon, and you’d started to look for jobs on his laptop he rarely used, and you both discussed getting new forms of ID for you since you’d left all of your previous when you ran away. 

On your nightstand was the necklace with the tree charm he’d bought you two weeks ago, and had given you a week ago, and you only take it off when you go to sleep. The reaction he’d gotten when he gave it to you was priceless, and you started crying right then and there, and when you told him that no one had ever gotten you anything before, he almost started crying too. 

You and he had only gone to bed an hour ago before the knocking had woken you up, and Bucky let out a groan as he kept one arm around your waist and rolled onto his side a bit, reaching for his phone. “Who the hell knocks on someone’s door at…” he squinted at the harsh brightness from his phone screen. “Twelve eighteen in the morning?” he grunted, setting his phone aside again. 

But you were already half asleep again, cuddling up against his side. You were wearing one of his shirts and a pair of panties to bed, the new sets of pyjamas in the dresser drawer being used as lounge wear instead of your sleep attire - something he secretly loved since he’d been very vocal about how good you look in his clothes right from the very start. 

“Ignore it,” you muttered, nuzzling your face against his chest. “They’ll probably go away soon.”

Bucky grunted, too tired to care at that point as well as he leaned back on the pillow. He was almost back to sleep when the sound of knocking jolted you both awake once again, and he cursed under his breath. “Stay here, sweetheart,” he muttered, sitting up in the bed and pushing the sheets off his body. 

You hummed, propping your head on your palm as you looked up at him with tired eyes, and Bucky wanted to quickly find out what the person at his door wanted so you and he could go back to sleep. 

He pulled on a pair of sweats, deciding that answering the door in just his boxers was probably not the best idea, before pulling open the bedroom door and making his way through the house. 

Whoever is at his door started knocking more consistently, and rather obnoxiously, and Bucky gritted his teeth. He forced himself to calm down as he peered through the window next to the door, pulling the curtain back to see who it was. 

It was a man he’d never seen before, and a woman who looked kind of familiar, but Bucky couldn’t place her anywhere specific. He wasn’t even sure if he’s ever seen her, but something about her was familiar, he just didn’t know what it was. 

He let go of the curtain and stepped back, unlocking the door and pulling it open with a neutral expression on his face. “Yeah?” he asked, bracing one hand on the door frame while keeping his other one on the door knob in case he needed to slam it in their faces really quickly. “Can I help you?”

The man lowered his hand, his eyes widening a bit in surprise as if he was expecting a much warmer greeting from someone who’d just been woken up at midnight. “Uh, yeah. I hope you can,” he said, moving to stand back beside the woman. “We’re looking for our daughter. She ran away from home a few weeks ago, and we can’t find her anywhere.”

The woman piped up with a fake sadness in her voice that was almost comical if Bucky hadn’t instantly picked up on what the man just said. “We’ve looked everywhere, and she still hasn’t turned up. We’re just worried sick about her,”

Bucky straightened up at that, his eyes flickering between the two before he shrugged causally and shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen her,” he said, and the man narrowed his eyes. 

“You don’t even know what she looks like,” he pointed out, and Bucky narrowed his eyes right back, then realized that if these were in fact your parents, he might be coming off a little too protective and guarded for them to believe him when he says he hasn’t seen you. 

“That’s true,” Bucky said, softening his gaze as he lowered his shoulders he didn’t realize had raised almost to his ears. “But I haven’t had anyone come by in months. Just my sister, so again, I don’t think I’ve seen her.”

The woman lifted a photo up and all but shoved it in his face, making Bucky reel back a bit. “This is her. It’s a little old, maybe two or three years ago, but it’s the best one we have of her,” she said, and Bucky held back a grunt as he took his hand off the door frame and plucked the photo from her. 

This was the best photo they have of you? Just one glance at the picture, Bucky could tell it definitely is you, but definitely isn’t from two or three years ago. You looked like a teenager in this photo, not twenty three or twenty four like you’d be if it were from two or three years ago. 

It looked like an old yearbook photo, maybe from your second year of high school. What pissed him off even more though, was the obvious black eye you had in the photo. It was faded a bit, like maybe you’d gotten it just a few days before the picture was taken, but still. The proof that you’d been putting up with this for years was staring right back at him with younger features, and even more innocent eyes. 

The photo was old, not only in regards to your age, but also physically. The edges were worn and the picture itself was dirty, like it had been sitting in an untouched drawer for years before someone picked it up again. It was given the same treatment you’d been given. 

Bucky pursed his lips instead of locking his jaw, and he handed the photo back to the woman. “Yeah, no, sorry. I haven’t seen her,” he said, beginning to close the door when the sound of the floorboard in his hallway creaked, and Bucky stepped in the line of sight of the hall just as your dad tried to peer over his shoulder at the sound. 

He flared his nose, his shoulders lifting slightly. “Does someone else live with you?” he asked, “Maybe they’ve seen her-”

“No,” Bucky said, standing firm when your dad tried to take a step into his house, and he found it very easy to lie to these people, especially after everything he knew they did to you. “No one else is here. That was just my cat, who will try to escape the longer I keep this door open. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

Your dad tensed up even more, visibly growing angrier by the minute, but so was Bucky. Before either of them could say anything else, your mom stepped in. “Of course,” she said, pulling on your dad’s arm to tug him away. “Thank you for your time. We’re sorry for coming by so late. Have a good night.” 

Bucky didn’t say anything. He simply stayed where he was and watched them get into their car, and he waited until the tail lights had disappeared beyond the trees before he shut and locked the door. 

When he turned, he saw you peeking your head out of the doorway of the bedroom, and you looked just as terrified as you did the day he met you. Bucky quickly walked over to you and tried to pull you into his arms, but you placed your hands on his chest, keeping a sliver of distance between you and him. 

“That was- they were- my… my-” you stuttered, clearly having heard that whole interaction. 

“Shh, hey. I know. I know, sweetheart,” he said, his hands gently grasping your upper arms. “It’s okay. They’re gone, okay? They don’t know that you’re here, I promise. They’re gone.”

You were shaking as you nodded your head, and you finally let him pull you into his arms, your face pressing up against his chest. You melted against him, and he felt the warm wetness of your tears against his skin, making him hold you a bit tighter. “I saw her,” you whispered, clinging onto him. “My mom. At the store a couple weeks ago when we went into town to get some clothes and the-the Plan B. I saw her, right before we left.”

Bucky tensed up at that, because that was where he knew your mom from. He’d only been able to catch a glimpse of her while you tugged him out of the store, but it was enough for him to remember what she looked like, and how scared you’d suddenly become that day. “Jesus, baby,” he muttered, cradling the back of your head with one hand as his other ran up and down your back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You cried quietly, shrugging. “I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to bring attention to myself or risk her seeing me and taking me back there and-”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Bucky cut you off gently, turning his head and kissing your temple. He could feel the way you were starting to get worked up, and that was the last thing he wanted right now, for you to be back in that place mentally. “It’s okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re not gonna go back there, okay? You’re home, baby. Here with me. You’re safe.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, and he had to hold himself back from going after your parents and giving them both the same treatment they’d given you. “Okay,” you whispered, then wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. 

Bucky picked you up and carried you back to bed, and he cuddled under the covers with you once more, letting you lay half of your body on top of his. He hoped you could feel the protective way he held you, and hoped you knew it was his way of telling you that he meant every word he said. 

You are home now, here with him. He’d never let anyone hurt you or take you back to that horrible place you’d come from. He’d never let you go through that kind of pain ever again, and he’d never let your parents near you ever again.

A week had passed since that night your parents came by, and it was still unsettling how they managed to stumble upon the very house you were now living in, even though Bucky had told them he’d never seen you. 

You’d come very close to being found by them that night, and you’d been a little on edge ever since, so Bucky suggested postponing the trip to town to get you a new phone and to get new copies of your ID, because it was obvious your parents had been snooping around the area in search of you. 

It was nice out, the last few weeks with good weather dwindling down before the fall chill took over and it became Winter. 

You were sitting under the canopy attached to the front of his house, your legs pulled up as you sat on the swinging seat he’d built with his best friend the second year he was up here after realizing he needed more places to sit on outside in case he had company. 

Open on your lap was a book, one of the many ones he had tucked away on the shelf in his living room he shamefully hadn’t touched in a very long time. It was okay though, because you’d become quite fond of the collection, and you were putting it to way better use than he ever had. 

He was cleaning up the area around the front of his house, putting things away to prepare for the harsher weather that would be coming his way in the following weeks. He was currently making sure he was stocked up on firewood so he’d be able to keep the house warm, and he was in the middle of chopping up what remained of a tree that had fallen over during the last bad storm when he heard the sound of tires on the dirt path that led to his house. 

Bucky paused, briefly wondering if he forgot that his sister was coming by again, but then he saw the same car your parents were in that night a week ago, and he stood up straight. “Sweetheart,” he called out to you, keeping his eyes on the car as it came closer to the house, still partially hidden by the trees. “Go inside for a minute, okay?”

He heard the way you put your foot down to stop the chair from swinging. “What? Why?” you asked, but then he heard your sharp intake of breath, and you quickly got up and headed inside, closing the heavy door behind you. 

Bucky rolled his shoulders just as the car drove up and stopped beside his truck, and this time he didn’t even try to be nice. “I told you, I haven’t seen your daughter,” he said to your dad when he got out of the car, your mother following his lead afterwards. 

Your dad flashed him a so obviously fake smile as he strode over to him, but paused abruptly when he saw the axe Bucky was still holding in his hand. It didn’t scare him away fully though as he nodded towards the house. “I thought you said no one else lived with you?” he asked, and Bucky froze for a second, worried that they’d actually been able to see you before he quickly told you to go inside. 

But then he saw how your dad nodded towards the swinging chair that was still swaying as if someone had just been sitting on it and had gotten up in a hurry. Bucky sighed deeply, before shrugging, “Must be the wind,” he said, “It’s pretty strong out here.”

Your dad’s smile faltered, and he took another small step forward. “And that book?” he asked, nodding towards the copy of Wuthering Heights you’d been reading before abandoning your spot on the swing to retreat inside. “I’m sorry, but you don’t seem like the type to read that kind of book.”

He was trying to get him to admit to having seen you, and possibly to hiding you inside, but Bucky was done at this point. Your parents had a lot of nerve to, not only treat you like shit, but to come onto his property twice and try to snoop around as if they had any right at all to do so. 

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky said, keeping his grip loose on the handle of the axe as he took a few steps of his own. “That you think you have any business coming onto another man’s property and sticking your noses into other people’s shit. You must think you’re royalty or something if you think you can do whatever the fuck you want, say whatever you want, when you’re on my land.”

Your mom visibly shrunk at that, and she stepped away instantly as your dad swallowed nervously. “Well-well, I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear. I was just-”

“Accusing me of something? Trying to stick your nose in my business?” Bucky cut him off, coming to stand only a few feet away from your dad. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, man. Clearly no one has ever taught your old ass a lesson, huh? That you can’t just walk up to people and talk out of your ass and not expect to have it handed to you in return.”

Your dad took a staggering step back, his eyes wide as he pushed your mother around the front of the car towards the passenger side door. “You’re crazy. All I did was come by to ask-”

“You know exactly what you came by to do,” Bucky said, getting right up in your dad’s face. “It won’t work here. Now get the fuck off my property before I make you regret ever coming here in the first place.”

Your dad looked terrified, and Bucky held back a laugh at the sight as he watched him quickly turn around and pull open the door. “You’re fucking insane,” he spat, getting into the car. “I know my daughter is in there. I know it. But you can have that little brat. You hear me?” he yelled, looking towards the house again. “He can have you! Because we don’t want your spoiled ass anymore! You’re gonna wish you never left, because no one else will ever want to put up with you or want you! Good luck with that little-”

The sound of the blade of the axe hitting the left headlight of the car shut him up, and your dad scrambled to start the car just as Bucky swung the axe back and took out the other headlight. 

“You’re insane!” your dad scoffed, backing the car up rather carelessly and nearly hitting a tree. 

“I’m glad you figured that out,” Bucky called back, watching the way the car sped down the dirt path and disappeared beyond the trees again. 

He turned, planning to go find you in the house and promise you that they were gone for good, but then he saw you standing next to the swing, a small smile on your relieved face. 

Bucky dropped the axe instantly, meeting you halfway when you started to walk quickly towards him. He picked you up and held you against his body as your legs wrapped around his waist, and he kissed you back as soon as your lips touched his. “I can’t believe you did that to my dad’s car,” you said against his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair. “He’s spent more money on that thing than on anything else.”

He grunted against your lips as he held you tight, his forehead pressing against yours. “I was gonna do a lot worse,” he said, walking over to the swing and sitting down on it, making you sit on his lap. “They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. I promise you that. I have you now. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ever again.”

You were in a much better mood this time than you were the night your parents swung by at midnight, and he was so happy you hadn’t slipped back into that mindset they’d put you in before. You didn’t look scared or worried or anxious, but happy. Genuinely happy and relieved. “I know,” you whispered, cupping his face in your soft hands. “I love you, Bucky.” you said, and he felt his heart spike at that, and the biggest smile formed on his face. 

“I love you,” he said back instantly, watching as an equally big smile formed on your face. “Damn it, I wanted to say it first.”

You laughed, pulling him into another kiss. “You did everything for me, and you saved my life,” you said against his mouth, “It’s only fair that I got to say it first.” 

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head, “There’s nothing fair about that, but I’ll let you have it anyway,” he said, and you smiled even bigger before pulling him closer and kissing him once again.

I have returned with a stupidly long fic. I hope you enjoyed it.🧡

[puppycheesecake]

Full-body tattoos. Made these for the drummer of my band. 🥁I'm not doing Edgewave this year (miss u Kari💔), but I figured it was a fitting month to finally post these.

Found under Tattoos > Chest

Male frame

BGC

》 Download (GDrive)

》 Download (Patreon)

[alanna-goth]

anto 64 | dl: sfs ⋆｡°✩

pf-ef (f)

19k poly

asimtypical textures

naturals & unnaturals

credits - hair meshes: anto/alesso/coolsims

credits - textures: asimtypical

credits - colors: asimtypical

credits - color palette: asimtypical

@asimtypical - max(ish) hair system

[asimtypical]

Omg how cool!

[nadja-brasil-ts2]

Hair

[jacky93sims]

Arnie Plumfruit Essentials 2.0 Items - for The Sims 2

These are 4to2 conversions from Arnie, low poly. The tablet is a decorative object but the rest is functional.

Computers have also their own screens and a Monique Hacked version. The iPod are animated stereo and everything lits at night, as you can see here:

DOWNLOAD HERE

-----------------------------------

If you want to support my creations, you can send me a donation with Paypal or Ko-fi ☕ If you want to ask for a Paid Commission, HERE you can find more details. Thank you ❤️

[nadja-brasil-ts2]

Eletronics

[virtualpeople]

Hello everyone, you may have seen my wonderfully useful no face slider april fools post - It's now time for something a bit more... everyday. This is what I was actually making before goofing off there for a bit. It's a full-face slider for well, face size.

It shrinks/increases the size of a sim's facial features (eyes, brows, mouth and nose) as a whole without altering the outer margins of the face where it connects to the neck/scalp, and I'm hoping the images above illustrate this a bit more effectively than I'm currently describing.

Available in both bodyshop and CAS

GET IT HERE

As always, if you spot any issues let me know and I'll try and fix them asap

hope you enjoy :D

[hazelpuff]

Hello! (And a major thanks for all your cc, it's absolutely amazing!) If possible, can you please tell me wicf the shirt/dress used on the sim modeling the Dorothy hair (post/807346964882751488/4t2-hair-conversions-sunivaa-denise-v1-dl) and the skirt used on the Vienna blouse post (post/663425318056574976/4t2-vienna-blouse-by-livixo-this-top-is)? Thank you so much \o/

Hi, sure!

The Dress - or Meduza's ver

The skirt - I had this version that is unavaliable anymore - the new version is here (I dont remember why but there was a reason that I've kept using the 1st one)

[shangchiswife]

lex luthor- write about this

summary: you hate lex luthor. you’ve written countless articles exposing Lex Luthor as a monster, but the moment he touches you, something inside you shifts.

lex luthor x fem!reader

warnings: smut

word count: 2743

....

The moment Lex Luthor saw you from across the ballroom, his lips curled into something between a scowl and a smirk.

You were laughing with your coworkers from the Daily Planet, your glass of wine untouched in your hand as you told some story that made Jimmy nearly spit out his drink.

The dark blue gown you wore shimmered softly beneath the chandeliers, hugging your waist like it was made for you.

And maybe it was.

You looked polished, radiant even, and if Lex hadn’t known you, he might have called you beautiful.

But he did know you.

He knew the venom you had laced between every line of your articles, the way you stripped him down on the page with infuriating precision.

He had read every piece.

Some he’d thrown across the room, others he’d reread with a slow-burning interest that he refused to name. You were relentless, brilliant, and utterly exhausting.

So of course you were here.

He set his champagne down, adjusted the cufflink on his left wrist, then started toward you.

You sensed him before you saw him. Maybe it was the shift in air, or the sudden silence that settled over your group as their eyes drifted behind you. 

You turned slowly, already knowing. And when your gaze met his, your expression twisted with disgust.

Your eyes dropped briefly to his mouth, then back up again, sharper this time.

“Luthor,” you said flatly.

He stopped close enough to be inappropriate, like he didn’t care who was watching.

He didn’t.

“You clean up well,” he said, voice low, smooth, with something dangerous simmering beneath it.

You gave him a once-over, unimpressed, though the flutter in your stomach betrayed you.

“Shame about your personality,” you replied, your voice dipped in venom, but your throat tightened when he tilted his head and smiled like he could see right through you.

Lex leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the scent of his cologne, definitely something expensive. His breath brushed your ear as he spoke.

“You still think about me when you write those hit pieces, don’t you?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a second too long.

“Only when I need to remind myself what unchecked power looks like.”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening. “Then I suppose I should give you something new to write about.”

Your breath hitched, heat blooming low in your belly before you could stop it. You hated him. You really, truly did.

But god, there was something in the way he looked at you like he already knew how you’d fall apart if he wanted you to.

And that was the problem.

Because part of you wanted him to.

And that was the part that scared you the most.

His gaze dropped then, raking over you like a hand without ever touching. From your painted lips to the soft slope of your shoulders, down to where the dark blue gown clung to your waist and draped along your hips like it had been stitched by sin itself. His eyes lingered there, bold and shameless, before dragging back up to meet yours with a spark that made your breath catch.

You hated the way your skin prickled under his stare. Hated how aware you suddenly were of the way the fabric hugged your body. Of the heat pooling at the base of your spine.

The group around you had gone quiet. You could feel every set of eyes flicking between the two of you, the tension coiling thick and heavy. 

Jimmy shifted awkwardly beside you. Lois muttered something under her breath and someone cleared their throat.

But Lex didn’t move.

He leaned in, just a fraction, voice pitched low enough for only you to hear.

“You know,” he murmured, eyes flicking once more over your figure, “That dress does unspeakable things for your body.”

You inhaled too sharply. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your mind, usually sharp, was suddenly blank except for the pulse thudding loud in your ears.

He smiled, pleased, like he had won something without even trying.

Then he stepped back, smooth and poised, letting his gaze linger one last time.

“Try not to write anything about me tomorrow,” he said, voice light, mocking. “Or do. You always did have a talent for making me sound… unforgettable.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd like he hadn’t just set you on fire.

You stood frozen, every nerve buzzing as you tried to catch your breath.

Your coworkers were staring, every single one of them pretending not to. 

Jimmy looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Perry’s brows were furrowed, clearly already regretting giving you that assignment six months ago. And Lois didn’t even try to hide her reaction.

She nudged your arm, her brow raised so high it practically touched her hairline. “Okay. You gonna explain, or should we all just assume you’ve been secretly banging the devil?”

Jimmy choked on his drink. “Oh my god.”

“I am not-” you said sharply, then glanced around and lowered your voice. “I’m not sleeping with him.”

Lois just stared at you, unimpressed. “But you’ve thought about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to snap something back, but the words caught. You couldn’t deny it. Not with the heat still simmering under your skin, not after the way his voice still echoed in your ear like a secret.

Not often, and never on purpose. But in quiet moments, in passing thoughts, in that narrow space between rage and something else. 

You had thought about it. 

And now that he had stood close enough to feel the heat off his body, now that he had whispered things that made your chest tighten, those thoughts didn’t feel so abstract anymore.

You looked down, tried to cool the flush on your face. “He’s manipulative. Arrogant. Smug.”

“Hot,” Lois said with a shrug, her lips forming a smirk.

“Objectively, sure,” you muttered.

Perry finally spoke up, his voice dry. “For the record, I don’t care what that man whispered in your ear, I’m not pulling your next exposé just because he made you blush.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This night is cursed.”

Jimmy, still recovering, piped up with a grin. “At least if it did happen, you wouldn’t have to worry about messing up his hair.”

Lois burst into fresh laughter. “Oh god, Jimmy, stop.”

You glared at both of them. “You’re insufferable.”

Lois snorted. “Honestly, that man looked at you like he was planning world domination and trying to undress you with his eyes.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

Because somewhere in the back of your mind, Lex’s voice still purred like silk.

Lethal.

And the worst part?

You wanted to hear it again.

….

It had been three days since the ballroom.

Three days since Lex Luthor looked at you like he could unravel you with a glance and then had the nerve to whisper in your ear like he already had.

You’d tried everything to forget it. Buried yourself in drafts, interviews, even sat through a two-hour zoning meeting just to dull the static. But it hadn’t helped. He had taken up residence in your head like it was his latest acquisition.

And when the black envelope appeared on your desk with no return name, just his initials pressed into wax, you already knew you were going.

The note inside was short. A location. A time. No explanation. But you didn’t need one.

Now, you stood in the middle of his penthouse suite, windows framing the city like a painting, the only light coming from the low glow of a few recessed fixtures and the skyline beyond. The room was silent, except for the soft clink of glass as Lex turned toward you, swirling something dark in his tumbler, watching you like you were already his.

“You’re late,” he said coolly, eyes dragging over you like he was measuring something, like you were being appraised.

You arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware I accepted an invitation.”

He stepped forward slowly, the sound of his shoes against the polished floor sharp and deliberate. “You showed up, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low and calm, but there was something sharper under it. “You always do.”

You didn’t respond. Not right away.

His eyes flicked over you again, from the slight curve of your mouth to the dip of your neckline. “Blue again,” he noted. “You must like the way it makes you look obedient.”

Your lip curled. “You think I wore this for you?”

“I think,” he said, stopping just a breath away, “you want me to look.”

“And you want me to slap you.”

He smiled, something wicked curling at the edge of his mouth. “I’d recover.”

You hated him. God, you hated the way he made your blood run hot, the way his voice crawled down your spine like silk. But you didn’t move. You didn’t stop him when his hand came to rest at your waist, firm and possessive, his thumb brushing slow circles into the fabric.

“You hate me,” he murmured, his face now so close you could feel the heat of his breath, “but I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one’s watching.”

Your heart stuttered, your breath caught.

“Careful,” you said, voice thinner than you meant, “you’re starting to sound obsessed.”

Lex leaned in, lips brushing your ear, the heat of his words making your knees go weak. “Oh, I am.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was bruising, like he had been waiting for this moment and was going to punish you for making him wait. His mouth claimed yours with an unforgiving kind of hunger, and you matched it, biting his lip hard enough to make him growl low in his throat.

He backed you against the cold glass window, his hands dragging along your sides, one moving up to grip your jaw and tilt your face to his liking.

“You’re such a goddamn brat,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough, breath unsteady.

You smirked against his mouth. “And you love it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded, mouth swollen.

“No,” he said. “I crave it. There’s a difference.”

Then his mouth was on your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs, dragging the hem of your dress with them. You gasped when his fingers dug into your hips, when his teeth grazed your skin like he was tasting every inch.

“You think you’re in control,” he whispered, lips brushing just beneath your ear, “but the second I touch you, you forget your own name.”

You let out a shaky breath, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. “I still know one name. And it’s the one I’ve torn to pieces in print.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said darkly, “keep pretending you can destroy me. It makes fucking you so much more satisfying.”

Then he kissed you again, deeper this time, possessive, his body pressing into yours until there was nothing left between you but heat and friction and a pull you couldn’t fight anymore. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said again, his voice rough and low, words vibrating against your lips.

You looked up at him, defiant, breathless, every inch of your body alight and aching.

“Not a chance.”

Your voice barely came out, breathless and defiant, but it was enough. His expression shifted immediately, like the answer had cracked something open in him, something dark and patient that no longer felt like waiting.

“Good because I wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured.

Then his mouth was on yours again, rougher this time, like he was done holding back. His hands roamed your body fast, gripping your waist, pulling you against him until your spine met the cold glass and you gasped. 

One of his hands slipped beneath the hem of your dress, moving up the inside of your thigh with a kind of control that made your breath catch.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, tugged them down with one clean movement, and caught them just before they hit the floor. 

You blinked, barely able to react before he shoved them casually into the pocket of his slacks like he was pocketing a favor you’d just handed over willingly.

“Are you kidding?” you breathed.

Lex looked pleased at your reaction. 

“Call it insurance.”

You stared at him, torn between smacking him and grabbing him by the collar. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re not stopping me.”

Your lips crashed into his again, hard and messy, hands fisting into the front of his shirt as he shifted closer. He kissed you back like he was starved for it, like this was something he’d thought about too many times. And then he broke the kiss, just long enough to free himself.

You glanced down on instinct.

He was big.

Your breath caught.

“Oh.”

He stilled, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Really?” he said, voice low. “That’s the reaction?”

“I just-” you started, then shook your head. “Shut up.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, clearly savoring the moment. “I’d be flattered if you weren’t already soaking for me.”

You would’ve slapped him if you weren’t so focused on the heat curling deep in your stomach. He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he lifted your thigh around his waist, lined himself up, and with one slow, devastating thrust, pushed inside you.

The stretch stole your breath. Your head fell back against the glass, a soft, broken sound catching in your throat.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

Lex groaned low, his fingers digging into your hip. “So tight,” he breathed. “You were made for this.”

He pulled back, just enough to drag out the next thrust, and your body jolted with it. You clung to him, nails pressing into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, your whole body arching into the rhythm he was building.

“Is this what you pictured?” he muttered, breath hot against your neck. “When you wrote all those nasty little articles about me? When you said I was heartless?”

You moaned quietly, but didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” he demanded, snapping his hips into yours harder this time. “Tell me that you thought about it.”

You gasped, the impact knocking the words out of you. “Maybe,” you choked.

Lex grinned, vicious and satisfied. “Thought so.”

His hand slipped between you, fingers toying with your clit, and your whole body tensed. 

The pleasure built fast, sharp and hot, your legs beginning to shake from the way he kept thrusting.

“Say it,” he growled, hips slamming into yours. “Say you’re gonna come.”

You refused, biting your lip hard, but your body betrayed you. 

You were so close, your moans catching in your throat, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“Say it.”

“I’m-fuck-I’m gonna-”

His mouth was right at your ear when he said it, voice low and filthy, wrecked at the edges.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Come apart for me.”

And you did.

You came hard, your whole body locking up, a cry torn from you as you clenched around him, shaking against the glass as he kept fucking you through it. 

Your vision blurred, your fingers digging into his arms, and somewhere in the haze, you heard him groan low, rough, his rhythm faltering.

Then he shoved his cock in deep one last time and came with a sharp exhale.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your head resting back against the glass, one of his hands still holding your thigh in place, the other gripping your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Eventually, he pulled back slightly, eyes flicking to your face, still smug even as he caught his breath.

“I’m keeping those,” he said with a smirk as he tapped his pocket.

You looked at him, lips parted, still trying to breathe. “You’re a menace.”

Lex leaned in, kissed you slowly this time, like he was savoring the ruin.

“You’ll come back,” he said softly against your mouth.

Then, as he pulled back, his eyes lingered on you like a challenge already won.

“When you write about me,” he said, voice low and cool, “make sure you spell satisfaction right.”

[kendallsroyco]

Posting the whole courtroom scene because Charlie's phenomenal acting deserves its flowers

[tony-veis]

Eco life chairs

Download

Set of Eco life full objects

[rosierecs13]

𝜗𝜚 Matt Murdock Recs

⭒ Masterpost ⭒ 05/05/2026

⭒ Marvel Masterlist

rhi’s matt murdock masterlist | @saintmurd0ck

MATT MURDOCK MASTERLIST. | @little-miss-dilf-lover

Masterlist | @courtforshort15

Matt Murdock Masterlist | @alrighty-matty

fic recs | @bellaxgiornata

matt murdock fic recs | @yeponing

Blind Beauty | @avengerdragoness

try harder | @urwarriorangel

My Number | @darling-i-read-it

Clint used to work with you and knows of your work fighting Fisk. When he realizes who he’s dealing with, he goes to see you in Hell’s Kitchen where you’ve started a new life working at Nelson, Murdock and Page.

The Office | @/darling-i-read-it

being peters sister and knowing to contact matt cause he was your ex Parker!fem!reader

Meeting the Aunt | @/darling-i-read-it

she’s peter’s older sister. and peter and may make her bring matt over for dinner to meet him Parker!fem!reader

new case | @/darling-i-read-it

Headcanons for being Matt Murdock’s child, part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 | @moonlit-imagines

Missed Connection | @ofnifflersandkings

Love Is Blind | @/ofnifflersandkings

Here | @amberlynnmurdock

Matt saves his wife from being held hostage by Fisk’s men and helps her with the PTSD that comes from it.

Blush | @undercoverpena

husband | @banditthewriter

Rosemary | @pickabetterusername

a lovely Sunday morning with Matt Murdock

Scratches | @shadowbriar

The lack of knowledge about her wellbeing is doing everything but put his mind at ease and Matt wasn’t sure how long he could live with such torture.

born to die | @goldenlikedayl1ght

as matt murdock's wife, your life is rather full of surprises. getting kidnapped by wilson fisk takes the cake as the worst one.

Feel You | @titan-sl8yer

Matt loses his hearing and you comfort him

Competition | @disgustingtoast

a morning with Matt.

Bath time | @jawabear

bath time with Matt brings out some emotions he’s kept in for a while

“Tell me you’re joking.” | @beyondspaceandstars

Your and Matt’s son is a stubborn one when Matt attempts to feed him.

The Family Musician | @/beyondspaceandstars

Your and Matt’s daughter is learning to play the violin. It only slightly drives Matt up the wall.

“It’s... Really Yellow?” | @pastafossa

Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt that red and reflective yellow are ridiculous colors to wear as a stealthy Devil. Unfortunately for Foggy, Matt knows exactly how to convince you otherwise.

This Is A Code F  | @/pastafossa

You’ve never seen Matt get the flu before, but despite Foggy’s warnings, you’re not all that worried. Matt’s sick. How difficult could it be to look after him?

A Brief Existential Crisis | @/pastafossa

Discordant | @ellephlox

When you risk your own life to save Matt’s, he gets (very) angry with you.

Obstinacy | @/ellephlox

You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

when you sleep | @leviathanspain

you and matt were incredibly drunk, like you mopped the bar floor, kind of drunk and so you spend the night over at his place but you can’t sleep

Safe | @mayfieldss

I promise you, you're all I see | @daremartyevil

besides his scars and failures, all you can see it’s him.

Fixed | @nnostalg1a

Devil in Me | @stranger-nightmare

Matt worries he’s loosing his grip on the line between right and wrong, worries he might be cursed with the devil living inside him…

Lingering | @someplace-darker

You’ve been worked to the bone and slept a total of 3 hours, so Matt takes care of you during your burnout.

Shampoo Bottle | @peterman-spideyparker

It’s the understatement of the century to say that Matthew Murdock is stubborn. His attitude towards his shampoo bottle is no exception to his attitude.

tell me i’m wrong | @chvoswxtch

you’ve been dancing around your feelings for matt murdock for over a year. what happens when he confronts you about it?

False God Masterlist | @pagesfromthevoid

“Do you remember how I said I’d die for you?” She nodded once, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to die for you; I want to live for you. And that is more than I ever thought I could want.” Avenger!reader

Him saving you from a guy at the bar  | @undiscovered-horizon

Imagine Matt “saving” you from a guy at the bar.

St. Agnes  | @lazydoodlesandfanfic

Daughter!Reader

𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | @m4tthewmurd0ck

Wax Strips  | @your-not-invisible-to-me

Matt prides himself on his memory until he forgets to take the trash out, causing you to learn a new secret.

love & back rubs | @l0vergirlwrites

Irked | @hart269

Matt is annoyed as a guy tries to hit on you

You are Evil | @/hart269

You make a deal with Matt and he is not happy.

Familiar senses | @dragonsfictavern

Make The World Quiet | @fettuccin-e

Fatherhood Frights | @kaitlynpcallmebeepme

dad Matt | @eykismyfav

the threat of divorce, aka playing pool | @ktheartsdaredevil

In the Rearview | @/courtforshort15

Reader returns from a trip home to visit her family, and Matt is less than happy to hear about the details.

I Get Along Without You Very Well | @cellophaine

The last time  | @allthatyoulove

You’ve been kidnapped by The Hand, being used as bait for Daredevil. Will Matt be able to save you before the situation gets worse?

Mini Murdock | @leossmoonn

matt and you find out you’re pregnant

Murdock and Son | @turnedherimagines

Sleepy morning snuggles with Matt get interrupted by your excitable little boy, who’s very, very awake.

Five Times, PT 2, PT 3, PT 4, PT 5, PT 6 | @avengeultrons

Five times you almost told Matt Murdock you loved him and the one time you did

Chess | @cafeacademia

Matt’s interest in chess leads you to surprising him one rainy, autumnal Sunday with a blind accessible chessboard and he’s more than excited to learn how to play.

a really stupid lawyer | @selantris

if you had the choice, you would have thrown that brick at the back of matt’s head.

you weren’t here | @multiharlot

y/n can feel matt drifting further and further away from her and closer to elektra. and she’s left to deal with the worst of the messes, without him.

[bellaxgiornata]

If you're curious for more than just my older fic recommendation list, I actually have a disturbing amount of Matt Murdock fics in my Matt Murdock Masterlist!

[the-yoshir]

If you are on Linux you are better update your kernel RIGHT NOW.

[yiffos-official]

my malware can have a little privilege escalation, as a treat.

[official-kircheis]

The most severe Linux threat to surface in years catches the world flat-footed

CopyFail threatens multi-tenant servers, CI/CD work flows, Kubernetes containers, and more.

[lindasims2]

⭐ SIM - KAYAN ⭐ no CC / only EA (05.26)

The character is presented without any content (no clothes or hair), only cosmetic content.

>>> DOWNLOADS

[creesims]

JFade's Auto-Refilling Pet Bowl Repo'd to OFB

This refills by itself, Sims don't have to bother with it, and it automatically deduces $10 from family funds when it refills. The wood now pulls textures from the Decra-Chill and the plastic pulls textures from the vase of the Mixed Flowers bouquet. Guid and filename are the same

Download - Alternate

[sims2packrat]

October-sims

Is there a way to get october-sims downloads from this post? https://www.tumblr.com/oktober-sims-remade/180493026340/hi-hl2-overlay-swatch-bloodborne-comics-swatch All their download links seem dead :(

Hello @casual-rebellion! :-D so terribly sorry for the late reply!

It seems they deleted SFS to host their stuff on simblr.cc, I managed to find them all but the “quiet facepaint” :-)

^Missing

https://simblr.cc/ts2/mod/778-arcade-machines-2018.html

https://simblr.cc/ts2/mod/781-lunasims-hanging-dress-recolors-2018.html

https://simblr.cc/ts2/mod/782-subtley-crusty-base-game-appliances-2018.html

https://simblr.cc/ts2/mod/780-half-life-2-decals-2018.html

https://simblr.cc/ts2/mod/779-bloodborne-comics-2018.html

[sims2packrat]

I'm looking for SKITTLESSIMS 4T2 SP32 Pants Cargo. Their patreon only has the defaults and tbe customs were link to simsfileshare that is no longer there.

Hello anon! :-D I found this reblog, linking to this download on patreon (not the default one you mentioned) and I think that might be the one you're after? Let me know if it isn't<3