NFWB and Work Song by Hozier remind me of Treacherousš§”š§”. Specifically the line about no grave being able to hold his body down, heād crawl home to her, in Work Song⦠thatās so outlaw!bucky!!!! Omg and āI didnāt care much how long I lived. But I swear, I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did.ā Fuck, I miss them
For NFWBā¦
āGive your heart and soul to charity, ācause the rest of you, the best of you, honey, belongs to me.ā
āAināt you my baby?ā
āIf I was born as a blackthorn tree, Iād want to be felled by you. Held by you. Fuel the pyre of your enemies. Aināt it warming you, the world going up in flames?ā
yes, yes, yes !!!
i love how Hozier has become the unspoken soundtrack to treacherous. from @perdidosbucky-yyo first bringing him up with Empire Now, to then It Will Come Back being suggested, and now NFWMB and Work Song !!
Lyrics are truly so them, and now as the last chorus of NFWMB currently plays while I write this, all I can think about is a very particular scene of Outlaw!Bucky that exists only in my mind ahaha
summary: youāre asking yourself why he keeps coming back, heās asking himself why you keep letting him in. itās a treacherous slope but neither of you can turn back now.
pairing: outlaw!bucky barnes x female reader
warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. smut (unprotected sex: p in v, loss of virginity, oral: f receiving, fingering, dry humping), swearing, fluff, angst, mention of: alcohol, blood, injuries, guns, death, murder, violence, and non-con (itās alluded to in regards to an unnamed character).
length: 16.5k
a/n: written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. i know little of the old west but this is fiction so. title inspired by this song and one part of this fic is inspired by a scene in butch cassidy & the sundance kid š§”
You never could quite handle the sight of blood, nor could you ever hide your instinctual response to it.
Your father used to terrorise you with the cuts heād sometimes earn from a hard dayās work, always finding your reactions humorous.
Each time he would smile and say, āYouāll get used to it one day, kid.ā
That day didnāt come while he was alive and it hadnāt come now.
Opening your front door to the man youād spied knocking on it from the kitchen window, you almost shut it again.
The stranger towers above you, his frame taking up the entire doorway, but your focus is drawn down to where his hands - covered in dirt and blood, press above his left hip.
āMaāam,ā He greets in a gruff tone. āI hate to bother you, but I find myself in need of some assistanceā¦ā The man nods to his injury, as if it had gone unnoticed by you.
It takes a moment for you to respond and when you do itās with a jerky bob of your head as you step out of the doorway.
One blood stained hand raises to tip his hat at you as he enters.
Your eyes follow him as he wanders into the kitchen to his left, a slight sway in his steps.
How long has he been bleeding out?
Shutting the front door, you finally find your voice. āWhat do you need?ā
Grunting as he lowers himself into a chair at your small, rectangular table, he answers āRag, needle, thread, and alcohol - whiskey preferably.ā
Removing his hat, he places it on the tabletop.
Okay, heās done this before.
Focusing on the task heās provided, you move around the kitchen and sitting room across from it, gathering each item.
The stranger is in luck. Your father had loved whiskey and thereās still plenty of bottles stashed away.
When you come to stand in front of him with everything in hand, you find that heās lifted his shirt, providing an unobstructed view of his injury.
Thereās so muchā¦
āBullet just grazed me.ā The man observes quietly, to himself. āStill made one hell of a mess though.ā He grumbles, finally lifting his head.
Blood. Thereās so much blood and the skin has -
A deep, rough laugh pulls you from your spiralling, making you swallow thickly.
āItās alright, darlinā.ā Thereās a lighter edge to his tone. āJust put the stuff on the table, Iāve got it.ā
You do as he directs but remain where you are.
The man opens the bottle of whiskey first and takes three healthy swigs before pouring the liquid over his wound, hissing.
Quickly averting your gaze with a wince, you focus on his face instead.
What skin you can see is dirty, like his clothes. Itās clearly been some time since he last bathed or even tidied his appearance. His hair is long and tangled. You think itās naturally a dark brown but itās hard to be certain. A thick, wild beard hides most of his mouth and half his face, while a sharp nose -
Oh god.
Youāve seen the wanted posters hanging around town. Heard the stories that accompanied them.
Bucky Barnes.
The famed outlaw, responsible for some of the decadeās most daring robberies and revered as the fastest gunslinger in the west, is sitting in your kitchen. Tending a gunshot wound.
For the briefest moment you wonder who it was that shot him and what their fate had been.
Then you realise thatās something you really donāt want to know.
āMa always said I could never be a tailor.ā The man - Bucky mutters, eyeing his truthfully pitiful stitching. āBut itāll do.ā
Placing the blood soaked rag on the table, along with the needle and leftover thread, Buckyās eyes meet yours as he swallows another mouthful of whiskey.
You feel the shift in the air as he sets the bottle back down.
Somehow he knows.
āIām not lookinā for any trouble, maāam.ā
āSays the man famous for trouble.ā You canāt help but retort.
Youāre seriously going to smart mouth him?
To your shock Bucky merely grins, his teeth surprisingly white and clean. āThatās fair, but a pretty girlās house isnāt exactly where I make my trouble.ā Morphing his grin into a smirk, he amends āUnless Iām asked.ā
Your skin heats at the insinuation.
āI wonāt be asking.ā You state firmly.
āThen youāve got nothinā to fear.ā Bucky assures, his mouth returning to its serious line underneath his beard.
He regards you carefully and itās only then that you notice his eyes are the most electrifying blue.
āI best be on my way.ā
The sudden declaration should fill you with relief, but as you watch Bucky rise from the chair with an unsteady step, you hear yourself saying āYou can stay.ā
Something tells you the last time he bathed was also the last time he had a decent meal or rest. He wouldnāt be finding any of those things nearby, especially in his condition.
Itās a miracle he even found you.
The downward tilt of Buckyās eyebrows is the only indication of his confusion as he looks up from the hat in his hands. āAre you -ā
āJust for the night and no funny business.ā
Buckyās eyes study you again and you swear no one has ever looked at you with such intensity.
Then he blinks, focusing on the front door over your shoulder. āI left my guns with my horse. You can keep āem with you if itāll make you feel better.ā Meeting your gaze once more, his deep voice rumbles āBut I promise you wonāt need āem.ā
How much was an outlawās promise worth?
Eyeing him in the same observing manner, you begin to understand what Bucky had been searching for.
Slowly shaking your head, you tell him āItās alright.ā
You had your fatherās shotgun should it come to that and you were familiar with the weapon.
āIāll show you the bathroom.ā You declare, striding out of the kitchen. āIf youāre gonna stay, youāre gonna be clean.ā
Behind you, Bucky responds with a - dare you say, amused āYes maāam.ā
Your eyes fall shut as you lean back against your front door, sucking in a deep breath of the crisp afternoon air.
Thereās an outlaw in my bathroom.
Re-opening your eyes at that insane truth, you realise youāre not alone.
Buckyās horse watches you curiously from where she stands in front of the porch steps, her gorgeous white coat shining in the setting sunlight.
Descending the steps cautiously, you extend a hand to the mare, letting her sniff you. When she makes a soft nicker and nudges at your hand, you move it to stroke her neck.
Her calm temperament surprises you, as she gladly allows you to lead her over to the barn not far from the house.
You settle her in a stall opposite your own horse, Chester. A gelding you aptly named after his chestnut complexion.
When you relieve her of Buckyās saddle, you spot two guns amongst his belongings, just like he said you would. You leave them there in the barn.
Back in the kitchen, you clear everything except the quarter filled whiskey bottle from the table.
He might as well finish it off.
Wiping down the wooden tabletop to erase any trace of blood, you lift the bottle to clean under it and get a large whiff of the alcohol, making you pause.
Itās been years since you smelt the once common scent and it has memories flickering behind your eyes as you realise youāve missed it.
Shaking your head, you put the bottle back down.
An hour passes, Bucky yet to emerge from the bathroom.
You stir dinner distractedly, staring out the window in front of you that overlooks the barn and the great nothingness beyond it as the sky darkens.
āSmells good.ā
Christ.
Heart thumping sturdily at the small fright, you let the wooden spoon rest against the side of the pot and turn to face Bucky.
Oh.
Itās no wonder he took so long. Bucky had found good use in a pair of scissors and your fatherās razor.
His wild, untamed beard has been reduced to stubble, highlighting a handsome jawline. Buckyās hair - which is a dark brown and currently damp, curls under his ears instead of brushing against his shoulders.
Definitely trouble.
However, dressed in your fatherās old clothes, itās hard to find him as intimidating.Ā
Your father had been a stocky man, so you knew the clothes wouldnāt be a perfect fit.
The pants are a bit baggy and come up short, ending above the ankles of his bare feet, while the shirt tucked into them is an even looser fit. Bucky has rolled up the long sleeves to keep them out of his way, revealing just how thick and muscular his arms are.
āI can wash your clothes if you like.ā You offer, realising youāve been staring.
āNo need, darlinā,ā Bucky responds smoothly āWashed them with me and hung āem over the porch.ā
You hadnāt even heard the front door open or close.
āKid, that wanderinā mind aāyours is gonna get you in trouble one day.ā
Nodding, you gesture to the table. āWell take a seat, dinnerās ready.ā
Dishing out two bowls of stew, you place one in front of him, along with a basket of bread rolls.
āCanāt remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.ā Bucky divulges, taking the spoon you offer him.
Sitting in the chair opposite him, you say āThereās plenty more if you want it.ā
The two of you eat in silence, Bucky at a much faster pace. Youāre only finishing your first serving when he begins his third.
Guess it has been a while since he last ate.
Or maybe this is just his usual appetite.Ā
āIs it just you here?ā Bucky asks after polishing off another bread roll, ending the quiet stretch.
In any other circumstance youād think twice before giving an honest answer, but itās pointless to lie to him now.
āYes, it used to be my father and I, but he died two years ago.ā
The pain his loss caused wasnāt something you could describe.
Your mother passed away when you were only four, taken by illness. If it werenāt for the photographs your father had, you wouldnāt even be able to conjure up an image of her.
After she died it was just you and him.
When his health began failing him some years ago, you both knew it was only a matter of time. You had just hoped for more.
Adjusting to life without your father had been challenging, but you were fortunate. Youād been left with a home - having no one else to come claim it, and the money that came from loaning out the land to cattle ranchers. It kept you fed, warm, and content.
Bucky lifts his eyes to look at you. āIām sorry to hear that.ā
You nod, your throat tight with emotion.
Pushing up from the table, you take your empty bowl to the sink as Bucky continues eating.
The subject of your fatherās passing stopped affecting you heavily some time ago, but it seems the turmoil of todayās events has brought your pain back to the surface.
āIāll get your bed ready.ā You announce, leaving the kitchen.
Heāll stay in the spare room - your fatherās old room. Itās bigger than yours, but you could never find the will to claim it as your own. You were happy in your childhood room.
Grabbing sheets from the bedroomās wardrobe, you get to work.
The room is sparse, containing only the bed with a small table either side of it, a wardrobe, and a chair. On one bedside table sits two photographs of your mother.
Youāre slipping a cover over the pillow when Buckyās figure appears in the doorway.
āHave enough to eat?ā
You doubt thereās any leftovers.
āMore than, your cookinās somethinā else.ā He declares.
A smile escapes before you can stop it.
Youāve always loved cooking and itās been years since youāve had someone to feed or receive compliments from.
Dropping the pillow, you look over at Bucky and find his gaze fixated on the freshly made bed.
āIāll leave you be.ā You state, moving towards the door.
Still staring at the bed, Bucky steps further into the room and out of your way.
Glancing at him one last time, you utter out a quiet āGoodnight Bucky.ā
Youāre startled by how quickly his dark blue eyes jump to you.
Then you realise itās the first time youāve spoken his name.
āWhatās your name, darlinā?ā
A pause.
Softly, you tell him your name.
Buckyās deep voice repeats it, adding āThank you, for everything.ā
His tone is lighter again, like it had been earlier after he laughed, allowing you to hear the emotion in it - sincerity, in this instance.
Youāre not sure why it pleases you so much.
ā·ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·ā·
When you wake youāre not as well rested as youād like.
You spent most of the night tossing and turning, all too aware of the outlaw just two doors down.
Forcing your heavy eyelids apart, you sluggishly get out of bed, taking your time getting dressed and fixing your hair.
Emerging from your bedroom, you peer down the hall to your right. The bathroom resides next to your room, the spare room next to it. Both rooms have their doors wide open, unoccupied.
Taking a few steps down the hall until you reach the opening on your left that leads into the sitting room, you walk in and find Bucky to your right, in the kitchen... making breakfast?
āMorninā,ā Bucky greets as you approach. Cracking two eggs into a pan, he answers your unspoken question. āFigured I at least owed ya breakfast.ā
You werenāt going to argue with that.
Taking a seat at the table, you ask āHow did you sleep?ā
Peering at you over his shoulder, Bucky replies āLike a rock.ā
āAnd your wound?ā
āHealinā just fine.ā
Buckyās still wearing the clothes you gave him, but judging by the heat you can already feel in the air, you know his own will be dried before you even finish breakfast.
You walk back towards the house with Bucky on your right and his horse - Alpine, as heād introduced, on his other side.
He doesnāt mount the mare until youāve reached the steps that lead up to your front porch. When he does, youāre stunned by the ease and swiftness his large body executes the manoeuvre with.
āThanks again, darlinā.ā Bucky nods, touching the brim of his weathered black hat. āFor your cookinā especially.ā
Back in his own clothing with a gun belt secured around his hips, Bucky looks every bit like the outlaw he is.
For the second time since youāve met, your mouth takes on a mind of its own. āWell, if you ever find yourself this way again maybe Iāll cook you something else.ā
The edges of his lips turn up in a smirk at your offer. āIāll keep that in mind.ā
With a light press of his leg into Alpineās side, the white beauty starts walking forward. You watch as she builds her momentum until sheās galloping, her and her rider becoming nothing more than a dot on the horizon.
ā·ā·ā·ā· 7 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
Truthfully, you never expected to see Bucky Barnes again.
The memory of his visit had been stored away at the back of your mind and some days you wondered if it ever even happened - if it had simply been a daydream youād gotten too lost in.
However, the knocking you hear on your front door one afternoon weeks later is very much real. As real as the man you spy standing on your porch through the window above your kitchen sink.
As you pull the door open, Bucky smiles in a way that can only be described as mischievous.
āHi darlinā.ā
Youāre relieved to find not one speck of blood on him, just dirt.
Buckyās maintained his shorter hairstyle but his beard has thickened, though not to the wild state itād been in when you first met.Ā
You realise your memory had failed to capture the precise blue of his eyes, as well as the depth of his voice.
Quirking an eyebrow - but giving a small smile nonetheless, your only response is āBathroom.ā
Chuckling, Bucky tips his hat at you, stepping out of his muddy boots before entering the house. You assume the bag in his hand contains clothes since he doesnāt ask for any as he disappears into the hallway.
Walking out onto the porch, you meet Alpine at the bottom of the steps and stroke her neck in greeting, leading her over to the barn.
Buckyās left his guns behind once again. You place his saddle and belongings on one of the workbenches before settling Alpine in the same stall sheād occupied last time.
After stopping by Chesterās stall to dote on the horse, you head back to the house and start making dinner.
Itās not too long after when you hear heavy footsteps cross through the sitting room, followed by the front door opening.
Glancing to your left, to the window above the sink that looks out onto the porch, you watch as Bucky hangs his wet clothes over the railing.
He disappears from view and you hear the front door shut before his voice fills the room āHow ya been, darlinā?ā
Shrugging, you answer with a simple āGood.ā
Youāre caught off guard when Bucky appears on your right, the smell of the soap he just used invading your senses.
Standing side by side, itās impossible to ignore his imposing height.
The top of your head barely reaches his broad shoulders and you feel like you have to look up and up to see his face.
You lower your gaze as your heartbeat accelerates, unnerved by Buckyās sudden closeness. However, it slows as you watch him inhale the contents of the pot simmering on the stove in front of you.
āāM starvinā.ā He quietly groans.
Smiling, you roll your eyes and tell him āItāll be done soon.ā Pointing to a cupboard at the end of the kitchen you add āThereās whiskey in there if you want some.ā
When Bucky doesnāt move or say anything in response you look up at him again, startled to find him staring intently at you.
āYou a saint or somethinā, darlinā?ā
He speaks gruffly, but you hear a trace of humour in his tone.
Scoffing, your gaze drops back down as you take a step towards him, so you can stand in front of the counter. Bucky takes a step backwards to accommodate you.
āWhatās saintlike about offering someone whiskey? And to an outlaw no less.ā
As the last part slips from your mouth, you tense.
āYouāre always talkinā first and thinkinā later, kid.ā
Bucky merely hums in response, turning to lean his back against the counter as his arms fold. The action pulls his shirt tight across his chest.
Not that youāre paying attention to that sort of thing.
āIsnāt that what saints do? Help lost souls?ā He drawls.
āYouāre lost?ā You retort sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at him.
That earns a chuckle from him as he shakes his head. āNah, Iām always right where I wanna be.ā
Buckyās midnight blue gaze hasnāt left you once, while yours constantly shifts away, like it does now. āAnd thatās here instead of somewhere nice?ā
āNice costs money.ā
Your eyes dart up to his for no less than a second before flitting away.
This time youāre smart enough to not say the first thing that comes to mind.
Concentrating instead on the corn in your hands, you jump when you feel the rough pad of Buckyās index finger under your chin, nudging your head up until you meet his gaze.
āDonāt start holdinā your tongue now, darlinā.ā Bucky states in a low timbre, dropping his hand.
Your heart is racing again, but youāre not sure if itās from fear or... something else.
Swallowing thickly, you manage to voice āI thought youād have plenty of money.ā
āSometimes I do.ā
āSometimes?ā
Really canāt help myself, can I?
The left side of Buckyās mouth twitches. āItās not always about the money,ā He answers vaguely.
You frown, āThen whatās it about?ā
At last, Bucky smirks. āCurious thing, aināt ya?ā
The comment flusters you.
āWhy do you wanna know?ā Bucky deflects, leaning in until his face is only inches from yours. āThinkinā about joininā the life, darlinā?ā
āNo, thank you.ā The bite of your words is lost in your breathless tone, the result of his close proximity.
Bucky just huffs out a laugh, his breath tickling your face. Then heās gone, strolling across the kitchen for the whiskey you offered hours ago - or so it feels, and thatās the end of that.
ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·
Waking with a deep inhale, your eyes blink repeatedly against the bright sunlight your curtains do little to block.
You stretch with a satisfied hum, having found sleep much easier than the last time Bucky stayed the night.
Itās well into the morning so you dress quickly, curious to see if Buckyās still here, maybe even making breakfast again, or if heās already taken off.
When you venture down the hall into the sitting room, you find the answer to your question lounging in an armchair, one of your favourite books in his big hands.
āNot an early riser, are you, darlinā?ā Bucky drawls conversationally, not looking up from the page heās reading.
You frown, crossing your arms. āItās morning, isnāt it?ā
Heās right though, youāre not one to rise with the sun - never have been. The few times you have are few and far between, the most recent being on his last visit.
Regardless, itās not that observation that has you feeling defensive.
āTen oāclock is hardly morninā, youāve missed half the day.ā Thereās nothing in his tone to suggest it, but you know heās teasing.
It goes straight over your head however, as youāre too focused on whatās in his hands.
āEnjoying the book?ā You snark at him.
Bucky smirks.
Oh yeah, heās definitely winding me up on purpose.
āTell me, are all your books so -ā Bucky breaks off in a chuckle as you pluck the worn book out of his hands and press it to your chest. āSo... romantic?ā
You grasp the book a little tighter, having half a mind to hit him over the head with it for the gleam in his eyes.
An urge you think he senses.
āI like their humour.ā Is your only answer.
Bucky hums lazily, clearly finding your answer lacking as he raises out of the chair.
The visual reminder of his towering height briefly shortens your breath.
Gazing down at you, Bucky lightly brushes against your side as he heads towards the kitchen. āIāll go warm up breakfast.ā
ā·ā·ā·ā· 5 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
Youāre not sure what shocks you more when you open the front door. The fact that Bucky is clean, or the fact that heās holding flowers.
Flowers.
Itās definitely the flowers.
You recognise the handiwork too. Clara, an elderly woman who was as kind as they come, grew all sorts of flowers and sold them from a stall in town.
Theyāre a little wilted from the long ride here, but still vibrant and pretty.
Resting a shoulder against the doorframe, inadvertently bringing him closer, Buckyās deep voice teases āWhatās the matter, darlinā? No man ever bring you flowers before?ā
Dragging your gaze up from the bouquet and narrowing it, you jab āIām just wondering if theyāre stolen.ā
Bucky only chuckles at your bite, like you expect him to.
Youāre not sure what to make of that realisation - that you expect things from him.
Holding the flowers out to you, he states āTheyāre paid for, darlinā, I promise.ā
There he goes again, making another promise.
Kept his last one, didnāt he?
Your facade doesnāt last long either way, the corners of your mouth turning upwards as you accept the bouquet, your fingers brushing over Buckyās in the process.
Raising the flowers to your nose - and ignoring the tingling in your fingertips, you breathe in their scent, the stems of lavender standing out the most.
Before you can thank him, Buckyās bending forward and ducking his head until his dark blue eyes are level with yours. āWas the money technically mine...ā
Your mouth drops open as he trails off, implication hanging clear in the air.
Bucky gives a genuine laugh at your reaction, the warm sound almost eliciting one from you as he pushes away from the door.
You watch him saunter down the porch steps to take Alpine to the barn, completely and utterly bewildered by this outlaw.
He looked dangerous with his imposing height, broad shoulders, and wide chest that peeked out from the unbuttoned top of his long sleeved shirts. The same shirts that his muscled arms bulged beneath.
Not to mention his roguish features - the dark hair, thick beard, and piercing blue eyes.
He sounded dangerous, his voice deep and coarse in a way youād never heard before, every word he spoke seeming to rumble out of him.
He just didnāt act dangerous.
Outlaws werenāt giving, they didnāt tease, or smile, or laugh, and they certainly didnāt let some girl smart mouth them.
However, you werenāt a complete fool.
You knew there was another, more prominent side of him that you were yet to truly witness. You saw glimpses of it sometimes - of the outlaw.
A man who was used to being respected or feared, or both. A man who had the strength and skill to take whatever he wanted, when he wanted, and without asking.
Then Bucky would blink or turn away, and that momentary glimpse you were afforded passed.
It shouldnāt drive you mad, it shouldnāt make you want to see that side of him, yet... it did.
If you thought about it too long - the image of him being rough and commanding like his lifestyle demanded, well...
You jump when Buckyās hand waves in front of your face.
Looking up from the spot on the porch youād been staring at but not actually seeing as you lost yourself in your thoughts, you meet Buckyās blue eyes below his furrowed brow.
āYou really get lost in there, donāt ya darlinā?ā
Thoughts still scattered, you absentmindedly respond āI donāt mean to.ā
Bucky just hums.
Shaking your head to finally clear it, you walk back into the house, listening as Bucky shuts the front door behind him.
Grabbing the old, empty vase that lives on the wooden tea table in your sitting room, you bring it to the kitchen sink and fill it with water, arranging the flowers within it.
You can feel Buckyās gaze following you as he takes his usual seat at the dining table, but it doesnāt unsettle you.
Returning the vase to its rightful spot, you admire the flowers once more with a soft smile before treading back to the kitchen.
When you pass Bucky you let out a small, confused sound as you come to a sudden stop.
Spinning to face him, you feel the skirt of your pale green prairie dress tighten around your legs, and you discover the reason when you spot Buckyās hand holding onto the bottom of your dress.
āWhat are you -ā You start, flabbergasted until you actually focus on the section Bucky has grabbed.
āWhat happened?ā He asks, not even having to look up from where he sits to meet your gaze.
The fabric is ripped, splitting the skirt upwards about four inches. Thereās a scratch to match it along the back of your right leg, which you assume Bucky must have seen.
You canāt read any emotion on his face, but you sense that heās not pleased.
Strange.
āI was trying to fix the curtain rod in your - the spare room, but the wooden crate I was using broke and I fell.ā
Fell seems like an exaggeration.
There wasnāt much distance between you and the ground, but you had landed awkwardly, the wood catching on your dress and scratching your leg - thankfully not deep enough to draw blood.
Currently, youāre more concerned about how you almost referred to the spare room as Buckyās.
When did it become his room?
Bucky frowns at you but doesnāt speak, causing you to frown back.
A moment passes before he finally releases your dress and stands. Still silent, Bucky turns and strides towards the hallway.
By the time you catch up heās already in the spare room, assessing the window.
Youād been replacing the curtains when the curtain rod bracket came off the wall on one side. It just needed to be screwed back in but the bracket was out of your reach.
The screwdriver sits on the windowsill, where you left it while you tossed the broken crate outside with some unfriendly words as your leg throbbed.
Grabbing the tool, Bucky reaches up to screw the bracket back in, the height not even a stretch for him.
Picking the curtain rod off the bed, you sit down in the same spot and bunch the curtains in your lap, keeping them off the floor as you watch Bucky quickly complete the task.
Turning around, he takes the curtain rod from you and hangs it up.
āWhat else?ā
You stare at him for a second before pointing to the wardrobe behind you. āThe right doorās a little loose.ā
Diligently, he rounds the bed to the wardrobe and opens the right door, tightening the screws in the top hinge.
āI thought it was you the first time I saw it.ā Bucky says abruptly, nodding to the bedside table closest to him where two photographs sit.
Both are of your mother.
In one sheās holding you as a child - youāre no more than two years old, on her lap with a smile. In the other sheās by herself and younger, about the age you are now.
āI once told my dad that I wished I could remember what she looked like, he told me to look in the mirror.ā
He hadnāt been exaggerating. The resemblance between you and her was as clear as a cloudless day. It was something that had always made you wonder - how hard was it for him to look at you and constantly be reminded of her?
You might not have been old enough to remember it, but the love your father had for your mother shone brightly, never once fading over the years that followed her death.
āHe said that was the only thing we had in common,ā Grinning, you drop your voice to a faux whisper as you repeat your fatherās loving words āShe was a horrid cook and complete trouble maker.ā
Bucky grins at that, giving a slight shake of his head as he swings the mended wardrobe door shut. āI dunno darlinā, I think youāre plenty of trouble.ā
After dinner is eaten and the dishes are cleaned, you always move into the sitting room for a short period while Bucky heads straight to bed.
Tonight however, heās joined you.
Each sitting in an armchair across from one another, he nurses a glass of whiskey while you stitch the ripped fabric of your dress back together.
You use the light provided by the oil lamp and candles on the tea table between you both, placed around your vase.
As you glance at the flowers, you realise you never actually thanked Bucky for them.
Drawing your gaze higher, youāre not alarmed when your eyes meet his.
Heās always watching you.
āThank you for the flowers.ā
Bucky was right of course, no man has ever given you flowers before.
āMy pleasure, darlinā.ā His deep voice purrs.
Youāre not sure why you suddenly feel so warm.
āAnd for fixing those things for me.ā
Itās not like you donāt do anything for him in return, but you still want him to know you appreciate the help.
āIāll fix anythinā you need,ā Bucky states a little rougher āJust donāt go hurtinā yourself again.ā
I didnāt do it on purpose, you almost huff out.
Bucky must anticipate the retort or something similar to it, because he stands, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one mouthful.
He takes his glass to the kitchen sink before returning, clearly on his way to bed.
āSee you in the morning.ā You say as he passes you.
āYou mean afternoon?ā Bucky calls back, his tone lighter.
This time you do huff, letting out a quiet āShut up.ā
His chuckle echoing down the hall lets you know you were heard.
ā·ā·ā·ā· 4 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
The fourth time you open your front door to Bucky Barnes is... different from the others.
Nothingās wrong per se, but itās not right either.
Buckyās the dirtiest youāve ever seen him. In fact, youāre struggling to find a visible patch of skin on him.
His large hands rest on the top of the doorframe and his dark blue eyes bore into you the moment the door opens.
āDarlinā.ā The word is spoken bluntly and you instantly know heās not in the mood to talk.
You have a short-lived thought of turning him away.
Instead, you step to the right, silently inviting him inside.
For the first time since youāve met, Bucky feels dangerous.
Especially when you eye the guns still on his hips.
If this had been the Bucky who knocked on your door while bleeding out, youāre certain you never would have let him stay the night - let alone return.
Bucky trudges off to the bathroom, your eyes trailing after him.
When you hear the bathroom door shut you release a short breath, looking outside to find another irregularity.
Your feet carry you out onto the porch and down the three steps without a thought, drawn to where Alpine patiently waits.
She greets you cheerfully, nuzzling into your hands and covering them with dirt. Sheās filthy.
Every other visit her white coat has gleamed, leaving you no doubt that Bucky cared for her deeply. Yet, like her owner, itās hard to find a clean spot on her.
Alpine makes a noise and seems to nod towards the barn, as if to tell you that she needs food, water, rest, a bath.
The irritation you felt at Buckyās stiff demeanour is replaced with concern.
You were in town only yesterday and hadnāt heard of any new incidents involving Bucky.
Not that you were keeping an ear out.
āWhat happened, huh?ā You ask Alpine, leading her to the barn.
She simply sighs in response.
Youāve just started drying Alpine when you hear heavy footsteps enter the barn.
Her white coat shines once more, the familiar sight easing you, unlike the man approaching.
Buckyās body radiates warmth as he comes to stand behind you, the scent of soap filling the air.
Daring to glance at him over your shoulder, you find him clean but worn out, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by.
Wordlessly, you let him take over the task.
You prepare Alpineās stall, stocking it with fresh food and water while Bucky dries her. Heās quietly murmuring to the horse, but you canāt hear his words over the sound of Alpine chewing hay.
When Buckyās finished he leads Alpine into the stall, closing and locking the gate behind her.
Itās almost humorous. Alpine and Bucky are spotless but now youāre not. Your dress is soaked and covered in mud.
The walk back to the house is taken in silence.
āIāll start dinner after I tidy up.ā You tell Bucky once youāre inside.
He gives no response.
After your bath you change into a simple white dress, the fabric light and less likely to make you sweat until you switch into your nightgown later on.
Stepping into the kitchen, you find Bucky reclining back in his usual seat, a bottle of whiskey opened on the table in front of him and almost finished.
You decide to make one of your specialties for dinner, hoping it will... well, youāre not really sure what youāre hoping it will do.
As you flit about the kitchen you feel Buckyās eyes on you, tracking your movements as you keep your back to him more often than not, until thereās nothing left to do but let dinner simmer on the stove.
Turning around, you lean against the countertop and meet Buckyās stare.
He doesnāt shift his gaze and neither do you.
āWhat happened?ā You ask quietly.
You donāt expect an answer and Buckyās continued silence tells you there wonāt be one.
Probably for the best.
Instead, Bucky lifts the whiskey bottle and swallows another mouthful, emptying it.
Pushing off the counter, you tread over to him.
āYou should have some water.ā You state, reaching for the bottle.
Before your hand can wrap around it, itās captured by one of Buckyās.
He doesnāt look at you as he flips it over, focusing instead on your palm as he runs his thumb over the lines of your smoother skin.
You watch in a dazed state, letting him do as he pleases.
Gradually, Bucky inches your hand towards him, closer and closer until heās pressing his forehead into your open palm.
The action stuns you, and for a moment you donāt know what to do.
So, you go with what feels right.
Pushing your fingers back and forth timidly, you weave them between the strands of his damp hair.
The droop of Buckyās shoulders boosts your confidence enough to take a step forward and lift your right hand, joining it with your left.
His head remains bowed, face hidden from you.
Taking another step forward to stand more comfortably, you release a small noise of surprise when Buckyās hands grasp your hips and tug you even closer, allowing his forehead to rest against your stomach instead.
Your heart stutters in your throat and your hands falter.
With a shaky breath, you resume stroking Buckyās hair, just as his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tight against him.
Being held in such a way makes you feel...
No, donāt you dare think that.
Growing bolder, your fingertips start drawing shapes on the nape of his neck while you play with the ends of his hair. The longer you do this, the more relaxed Bucky becomes.
Eventually however, the sound of dinner bubbling concerningly cuts through the peace.
You look over worriedly, not wanting the meal to ruin.
Bucky seems to realise, his arms tightening around you before dropping completely. Without looking at him, you dart over to the stove and turn it off.
Dinner is eaten in silence.
āāM going to bed.ā Bucky states once heās finished.
His first sentence since arriving.
āOkay,ā You reply softly.
ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·
You donāt expect to find Bucky making breakfast.
Walking into the kitchen, you had been prepared to discover that Bucky had left long before you woke. Youāre glad he hasnāt.
He doesnāt appear as worn down either, and the brief upwards tug of his mouth when he turns to see you is more than enough to have you smiling back.
While Buckyās still clearly dealing with whatever, his mood has at least improved.
Predictably, itās quiet throughout the meal.
You wait at the bottom of the porch steps while Bucky retrieves Alpine from the barn, admiring the flat plains that appear to stretch on forever all around you.
The sound of Alpineās hooves reaches your ears and you watch as Bucky leads the white beauty to you, stopping her by your side.
āYou gonna be okay?ā
Youāre not sure why you ask, but you do.
Bucky looks at you over his shoulder, his hands on the saddle he was about to mount.
He studies you, his eyes dark under his hat, before doing something that muddles your brain.
In a blink-and-youād-miss-it moment, Bucky drops his hands and turns from Alpine, covering the distance between you in a short step before pressing his mouth to your forehead, his beard scratching at your skin.
āJust fine, darlinā.ā His deep voice rumbles as he pulls away.
Looking at you one more time, Bucky spins back to Alpine and mounts her in one fluid movement. Then theyāre gone.
You can still feel the touch of his lips as you watch their figures fade.
ā·ā·ā·ā· 2 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
Town was a good hourās ride from your home, and it was for that reason you only ever made the journey once a week, every Thursday.
Your main stop was the general store where you bought food and other necessities. The storeās owner - Billy, would talk to you from his spot behind the counter, giving you a weekly rundown of town affairs.
Most of the time it was just mundane gossip you didnāt really care for, but not today.
According to Billy, there was a new gang causing havoc around the plains, trying to make a name for themselves.
āTheyāve been robbinā properties all over, startinā fires and roughinā up any fella in their way, the poor lasses -ā
Billy never finished that sentence, but his averted gaze told you how it ended.
āDunno why Iām worrinā ya with this girl, God himself couldnāt find ya all the way out there.ā
The declaration wasnāt that farfetched. Unless someone knew where you lived they needed to be lost to find it.
However, if someone was intentionally on the prowl...
You check over your fatherās shotgun the minute you return home.
Some days itās hard to forget that youāre a woman living on her own, with no help nearby. Tonight that fact looms over you like a dark cloud.
In fact, it keeps you wide awake, sitting at the dining table with the shotgun in reach until the sun rises again.
Youāre sluggish the whole day, tired and on edge.
When afternoon rolls around youāve cleaned the entire house in an attempt to distract yourself and for the most part, itās worked.
That is until you hear the unmistakable sound of horse hooves in the distance.
Fear strikes your heart in a way youāve never experienced and you instantly wish to never experience it again.
Racing to the window above the kitchen sink with the shotgun in hand, you almost cry in relief at what you see.
A white horse and her dark rider.
Sucking in deep breaths, you close your eyes and focus on the fast thump of your heartbeat until it returns to a calmer rhythm.
Youāre putting the shotgun back in its place underneath your bed when you hear his heavy footsteps on the porch, followed by three loud knocks.
Thereās no denying the way you immediately feel... safe.
āBucky,ā You greet a little breathlessly as you open the front door.
āHi darlinā.ā He grins, eyes softening just slightly.
Itās hard to picture the sombre man you invited inside only two weeks ago.
āBack so soon?ā You attempt to tease, though you feel it falls flat in your drained state.
You wonder if Bucky can tell.
Ducking his head and pinning you under his stare thatās regained its usual intensity, he responds āYou donāt mind, do ya?ā
No, never.
Smiling, you answer āLuckily for you, Iām in a gracious mood.ā
The tease lands better this time.
Humming, Bucky agrees, āLucky me.ā
ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·
After dinner it wasnāt Bucky who retired to bed first, but you.
The moment your head hit the pillow you were out cold.
Maybe it should concern you how easily you let your guard down just because Bucky was close by, but you donāt ruminate on it long enough to let it.
Itās late morning, maybe even afternoon when you eventually wake, the heat in your room making that much obvious.
Bucky doesnāt say a word once you walk out into the sitting room where he waits, reading one of your books again. However, the smirk he occupies as he gets up and goes into the kitchen says it all.
While you eat the breakfast - lunch, Bucky has made, you feel fear start to leach back in.
You donāt want him to leave you.
Unable to voice your plea, you take your time eating, dragging out the inevitable until youāre standing and taking your plate to the sink.
When you donāt hear the familiar sounds of Bucky collecting his things, you peek over your shoulder and find heās still seated at the dining table.
Your gaze meets his.
Bucky answers the question in your eyes. āIām supposed to meet my - some friends east of here in a couple of days.ā You donāt miss his slip of tongue. āIf I wouldnāt be overstayinā -ā
āNo.ā You interject much too quickly. āNo, you wouldnāt be.ā
He nods and stands up from the table, gesturing to the front of the house. āYour porch needs fixinā.ā
While you kept the inside of the house to a spotless standard, the exterior was starting to show its age. The porch in particular, the boards old and beginning to rot.
āI know, Iāve got new wood to replace it with.ā
You had it delivered out a couple of weeks ago. You just hadnāt gotten around to actually starting the task yet.
The sun beams down on you both as you walk side by side to the barn, past the horse stalls where you give Chesterās outstretched neck a fond pat, to the back where the tools and wood are stored.
Bucky hauls a bundle of wooden planks over his shoulder while you carry a crate full of tools behind him.
Thatās all he lets you do, refusing your help when you go to walk back with him to collect the rest of the planks.
Standing on the bottom porch step, you watch him go back and forth from the barn until heās brought out the last plank, creating a large pile.
āI can help.ā You insist, feeling guilty about having him do all the work, even though he was the one who offered.
Bucky just shakes his head with a huff.
āDarlinā, go inside and relax.ā He instructs, bending down to pick up a hammer from the crate. āOr,ā He adds, straightening and strolling over to you, forcing you to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. āSit out here and give me somethinā pretty to look at.ā
Your stomach drops as heat floods your face.
Managing a weak scoff, you avert your eyes and spin around, quickly retreating into the house.
Buckyās hearty laugh follows you inside.
Taking Bucky up on his first suggestion, you spend your day in the sitting room, reading.
When late afternoon creeps around and Buckyās been outside for roughly three hours, you mark the page youāre on and get up to make him a snack.
Using the door at your end of the hallway that leads outside to where you do your laundry, you balance a sandwich and glass of lemonade on a tray as you stroll down the side of the house.
The sight that greets you when you round the corner almost has the tray slipping out of your hands.
Buckyās shirtless.
His tanned skin glistens with sweat, the muscles in his back and arms prominent as he saws a wooden plank in half.
The longer you stare the more scars you begin to see, most small, others not, marking his body in a pattern unique to him.
You want to ask for the story behind each and every one.
Blinking out of your stupor, you step closer to where Bucky stands in front of the porch steps, cutting through the few remaining planks.
Swallowing thickly, you call out his name.
Buckyās head lifts, looking over his shoulder at you before the rest of his body turns.
For a second time, you fight to keep the tray steady in your hands.
Youāve only seen peeks of the hair that covers his chest, but now itās on full display and you canāt help but sweep your gaze down, over his firm stomach, to another patch of hair that leads to -
āMade you something to eat.ā You declare, lifting the tray.
It only shakes a little.
Striding over to you, Bucky grins āThank you, darlinā.ā
His large, rough hands brush over yours as he takes the tray and warmth pools in your stomach.
āYouāve done a lot.ā You observe, desperate to look at anything except him.
All of the old boards have been ripped up and Buckyās already laid down new ones on the entire left side of the porch, as well as on the steps, where he now takes a seat.
āShould be done by sundown.ā
Itās... nice, you realise. So utterly nice to have a man around to help you - to help look after you.
Though not just any man.
Bucky.
Youāll admit that. To yourself at least.
The sound of Buckyās glass hitting the tray draws your attention. It shouldnāt surprise you that heās already finished.
āYou keep eating that fast and your stomach will end you before anyone else gets the chance.ā You comment with a raised eyebrow as you wander over to him.
Bucky smirks as he stands, handing you the tray. āDarlinā, if your food is what takes me out, Iāll die a happy man.ā
Just as the sun starts to dip behind the horizon, your front door opens.
You glance up from where youāre curled into one of the armchairs, a book resting in your lap.
Buckyās dark blue eyes roam over you for a prolonged moment before he husks out āCome take a look, darlinā.ā
He disappears back outside as you stand and make your way over.
Opening the front door wide, you take in the restored porch with a growing smile and step out onto it.
āWow,ā You gush āIt looks amazing Bucky, thank you.ā
You turn to where he stands at the bottom of the porch steps and meet his gaze briefly before he breaks it, pointing to the old wooden planks piled a few yards away.
āThat woodās no good for your fireplace, so Iāll burn it tonight,ā Bucky explains, crouching down to pick up the tools heād used. āItāll just be an eyesore otherwise.ā
Leaning against the porch rail, next to where his shirt, hat, and gun belt rest, you watch quietly as he goes about returning the tools to their crate.
It hadnāt escaped your notice that Bucky had been wearing his gun belt when he came in yesterday, like he had on his last visit.
You hadnāt thought much about it at the time and you donāt now, too fascinated by him.
Thereās a sense of delight in watching him while his attention is directed elsewhere, as itās so often the other way around.
Only, while you found him intriguing to no end, you couldnāt fathom him sharing the same sentiment about you.
āShouldnāt look at me like that, darlinā.ā
Buckyās abrupt words startle you as he turns and captures your stare.
It shouldnāt still surprise you how observant he is, even when you think heās not paying attention.
Especially when you think heās not paying attention.
How was I looking at him?
Shifting your eyes, you act as if he hadnāt spoken. āIāve been meaning to ask you, what kind of name is Bucky?ā
His chuckle lulls you into reconnecting your gaze.
āItās a nickname.ā
Studying him as he slowly wanders closer, you press āWhatās your real name then?ā
Bucky comes to a stop in front of you and for once youāre the one that has to look down - if only just.
He runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, pushing it back from his face as he considers you.
āJames Buchannan Barnes.ā
The confession is gentle, meaningful.
āJames,ā You repeat softly, giving a small smile. āNow thatās a name.ā
Vivid blue eyes - dark and electric, gaze upon you with something you canāt name as you suddenly feel the brush of knuckles against your right cheek.
āSay it again,ā He murmurs.
Your breathing grows deep as a shiver cascades down your body, Buckyās touch so... beguiling.
When your mouth parts to speak, his thumb catches on your bottom lip and itās a miracle you remain upright, clutching at the railing.
Before you can utter his name a second time, you hear it.
Itās faint, but it still manages to pull your attention.
Thereās horses in the distance, kicking up a large dust cloud behind them as they race towards you, the sound of their hooves echoing across the flat landscape.
You canāt tell how many there are yet.
The rough sound of your name pulls your focus back to Bucky, who is already marching up the porch steps. He breezes past you, reaching for his shirt and gun belt.
āGet inside and stay there.ā He orders sharply.
Just like that, the side of himself heād been sharing with you vanishes, replaced by -
āNow.ā Bucky grits out, his eyes shifting to you.
That finally sends you scurrying inside, leaving him as he buttons up his shirt.
Darting into the kitchen, you draw the curtain across the window that looks onto the porch.
Bending over the sink, you pinch the bottom of the curtain between your thumb and forefinger, lifting it until you can just peek out.
Redressed, Bucky takes a seat on one of the two porch chairs and settles his black hat on his head, tilting it down until his features are obscured.
Leaning back in the chair, he almost looks like heās about to fall asleep.
You pick up on a faint noise and soon realise that Buckyās whistling.
Now, of all times?
Somewhere between a minute and an eternity passes before the horses - four of them, come galloping up to the house with their male riders.
Bucky keeps whistling.
The horses are pulled to a stop beside each other, forming a line in front of the porch. The rider to the far right urges his horse forward a step.
He eyes Bucky before glancing over at his comrades. Reaching behind himself, he slowly pulls out a shotgun and lays it across his lap.
āOi!ā
Buckyās whistling fades out, the sudden silence perturbing as he straightens in the chair, hat still tilted.
āCan I help you?ā Bucky drawls.
His reaction has clearly thrown the group into confusion as they all look to one another before three of them focus on the man who yelled - their leader, you assume.
āYouāre not too bright, are ya fella?ā
The insult makes you wince.
Bucky laughs.
Itās a sound you should find familiar for all the times youāve managed to raise one out of him, but thereās nothing about it you recognise - itās dark and without humour.
Maybe it should scare you, but it doesnāt.
The men stupidly chuckle with him, the one on the far left announcing āWeāre here to rob you, fool!ā
Laughter rings out louder from them, the group seeming to relax in this odd situation theyāve found themselves in.
āYeah,ā Another one echoes āEverythinā ya got.ā
Obviously not wanting to be left out, the only one yet to speak adds āThat includes any women.ā
Buckyās laughter abruptly ceases and the leader notices immediately, unlike his three cackling morons.
āYa gonna give us trouble, fella?ā He asks warily, the others falling silent at the sound of his voice.
Thereās a pause before Bucky answers.
āDepends.ā
āOn what?ā A moron sneers, clearly unimpressed.
āOn whether or not you leave right now.ā Bucky states, voice low and menacing. āāCos you make one move towards this house and the last thing any of you will see is the bullet I place between your eyes.ā
He directs their attention to the guns on either side of his hips.
The leader hovers his hand above the shotgun on his lap.
Another moron releases a scoff, āTheyāre not even drawn.ā
āNo,ā Bucky agrees, his tone clearly indicating his dwindling patience. āBut Iāve been told I got pretty fast hands.ā
Knocking his hat back from his face, Buckyās hands drop to his guns.
āBucky Barnes.ā A moron gapes, looking like he just wet himself.
The atmosphere completely shifts amongst the group, their leaderās eyes widening as his hand moves away from his shotgun and into the air.
āMister Barnes, we aināt mean no disrespect, sir.ā He quickly appeases.
Heads bounce up and down as the others hurriedly agree, staring at Bucky with blatant fear.
You canāt stop the smile that pulls at your lips.
āWell boys, Iām not too bright,ā He unsheathes one gun and points it in their direction. āSo remind me what it was I just told yāall to do.ā
Instead of actually doing it, one of the morons stutters out āUh, well, you told us to leave, sir.ā
Thereās a hush, Buckyās frustration palpable, and a part of you believes heās actually going to shoot them. In fact, youāre about to turn away from the window to avoid the sight.
Before you can however, Bucky speaks again, his voice harsh. āSo?ā
Finally, they gain an ounce of sense and urge their horses to move.
āThank you, sir.ā The leader gasps gratefully, turning his horse around.
Heās smart enough to know heās escaped a bullet, but not smart enough to realise his words only irk Bucky further.
It doesnāt matter now. He and his morons are already racing away like the devil himself is behind them.
Maybe he is.
Bucky doesnāt move from the chair, he simply reholsters his gun and stares after the group as they retreat into the darkening horizon.
Youāre lighting candles on the sitting room table when the front door opens.
Straightening up, you assess Bucky as he steps inside and removes his hat, revealing a furrowed brow. He looks deep in concentration, like his thoughts are racing at a mile a minute.
āSo,ā You begin, stealing his attention āThat was...ā
Itās in that moment, when trying to find a word that encapsulated what just occurred, that you actually process the event.
Watching Bucky handle the situation, making the four men appear stupid and harmless, had made you forget that they werenāt.
You wouldnāt have found those men harmless if it had been just you here to face them.
It should have been just you.
And if it had? How much protection would the shotgun have offered? Would you have been able to -
āHey,ā Buckyās deep voice cuts through the terror clawing up your throat - the terror that must be reflected on your face. āYouāre okay, darlinā.ā
Only because of you.
You vaguely hear Bucky striding over.
āIf you werenāt here -ā
āI was.ā Bucky cuts in, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Clasping your face in his rough hands, he tilts your head back until your wide, panicked eyes meet his. āI was here and thatās all that matters, thereās no good in thinkinā about what-ifs.ā
The declaration is spoken gruffly, but the stroke of his thumbs over your cheeks is tender.
āYouāre safe,ā Bucky continues, his voice growing lighter - gentler, like it sometimes does with you. āYouāre safe with me.ā
Itās so easy to trust those words.
Itās late at night, the moon high in the sky, when you find yourself standing out on the porch.
You canāt sleep.
Too much transpired today. Too many emotions were brought to the surface, and with them came revelations youād been trying so hard to ignore.
Ignoring them now seemed impossible.
Youāve never held romantic feelings for anyone. You knew long ago that your future would be a lonely one and you had made your peace with it.
Then he came along.
Rather than falling into your usual place of contentment in the loneliness that ensued each time he left, you found yourself counting the days between his visits, eagerly awaiting his knock on your front door.
Then came the feelings.
At what point did your heart choose to swell and thunder in your chest at the mere sight of him? At what point did you find yourself missing his watchful gaze when it wasnāt on you? At what point did you decide to trust him with your life?
In your relatively short time together, Bucky had somehow managed to carve out a space for himself within you, and you didnāt know how to get him out.
You donāt know if you wanted to get him out.
āEverythinā alright, darlinā?ā
For a second you think youāve imagined Buckyās voice during your ruminating, but his presence beside you is real.
āYeah,ā You answer softly. āWas just looking at the stars.ā
It was one of the reasons you came out here.
Humming, Bucky leans against the railing to your right, peering up. āThereās no better sight to fall asleep to.ā
You remember him once mentioning that most of his nights were spent on the ground, without shelter, in the vast, never-ending desert.
āIām sure,ā You reply. āBut I think Iād miss my bed every once in a while.ā
Bucky lets out a faint chuckle.
Thereās a comfortable silence as you both admire the stars twinkling above, but soon a prickling at the back of your neck has your head turning to find Bucky watching you unabashedly.
āYou drive me crazy like this.ā He murmurs, almost to himself. āYou drive me crazy all the time,ā He amends āBut especially like this.ā
Like what?
You donāt have to find the courage to ask.
āStandinā in your nightgown, smellinā like lavender,ā Bucky admits freely, repeating āDrives me crazy.ā
Your body comes to life at his confession.
Goosebumps erupt over your skin, your heart pounding faster as a warmth settles low in your stomach.
āJames...ā
āI havenāt stopped thinkinā about you since we met. Every day, youāre my first and last thought. Always wonderinā what youāre doinā, if youāre safe, if youāre thinkinā ābout me.ā He shifts closer, ducking his head until youāre eye level. āWonderinā what your mouth tastes like, how you would feel under my hands, what kind of sounds youād make for me.ā
Your breathing is shallow and heavy as he leans in closer still.
āGonna let me find out, darlinā?ā Bucky whispers against your lips.
Breathless and desperate, it almost sounds like youāre begging when you say, āYes.ā
Desperate to be touched - loved, by him.
A thought youāll come back to another day.
Buckyās mouth finds yours gently, his lips softer than youād imagined as they press against your own. Youāre tentative in your inexperience, but itās not long before youāre kissing Bucky back with an eagerness he happily returns.
His tongue glides along your bottom lip, encouraging your mouth to open, and when it does he consumes you.
Needing to anchor yourself, you wind your arms around Buckyās neck while his hands clutch at your hips.
When you break apart for a necessary gulp of air, those hands slip behind you to grip your backside, making you gasp as he lifts you up.
Clasping your legs around Buckyās waist, you cling to him as he carries you back into the house.
His beard scratches against the smooth skin of your own cheek as you nuzzle against him before pressing shy, light kisses to the exposed skin of his neck. The soft sigh Bucky releases enchants you.
Then youāre feeling the floor of your bedroom under your feet as he carefully sets you down.
Bucky lowers to his knees in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours as his hands close around the hem of your white nightgown, his knuckles brushing against your calves.
The only lighting is the candle you left burning on your bedside table and the moon beaming through your thin curtains, but itās enough to see the desire in his eyes - which is surely mirrored in your own.
You nod at his unspoken question.
In one swift motion Bucky stands, slipping your nightgown up and off.
Your legs press together instinctively and your hands twitch with the urge to cover yourself again as youāre hit with the vulnerability of being completely bared to Bucky.
āNo darlinā,ā He husks out roughly, grasping your wrists and holding your arms still while his heated gaze peruses your body. āPrettiest fuckinā thing Iāve ever seen.ā
The fervour Bucky speaks with has you weak.
Pulling you to him, Buckyās clothes rub against your skin which for some reason makes you tremble even more as his mouth claims yours in a passionate kiss.
Guiding you backwards until your legs hit your bed, Bucky breaks the kiss to lay you down. Still clothed, he crawls over you, his lips seeking out your neck this time.
You gasp when you feel his calloused hands on your lower stomach, before theyāre steadily drawn up your body to cup your pebbled breasts.
For the first time, you moan.
Buckyās head jerks up from your neck, his expression ravenous as he massages your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples as you feel the wetness pooling between your legs.
He lowers to kiss your mouth, this one slow and intimate as his sinful touch continues, his right hand straying away from your chest to trail down and down and...
Gasping against his lips, your body shudders as you feel Buckyās fingers push through the curls covering your sex, just millimetres from -
You reach for his wrist.
Bucky stops instantly, his hand stilling as he pulls back from your lips to meet your gaze.
Thereās no way he doesnāt already know, yet you still find yourself needing to say āI... Iāve never...ā
āI know, darlinā,ā Bucky soothes. āIām gonna go nice and slow. Make you feel so good, I promise.ā
You release his wrist.
Buckyās left hand kneads one of your breasts while his right continues its journey down to where no man has ever touched you before.
The whole time, you watch one another.
You inhale sharply when his fingers graze along your folds, feeling the wetness and warmth coming from your core.
It pulls a deep grunt from Bucky, who dips down for a searing kiss.
āGonna treat you sāgood, sweet girl.ā He whispers as he pulls away, moving down your body.
Call me that again.
Youāre torn from your thoughts when Buckyās mouth wraps around your left nipple, sucking and nipping. All while his right hand caresses your sex.
He switches his attention between each breast until youāre a wriggling, panting mess. Then, with a smirk, he moves even further down, planting kisses over your stomach as he goes.
Kneeling between your spread legs, Bucky wraps his large hands around your ankles before skimming them up to seize your thighs. He rests them on his broad shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your core.
Confused, youāre frowning down at him when he does the unexpected. Staring at you, Bucky lowers his head and licks along your slit.
Your hips buck up but donāt go far in his hold, your stomach tightening as you let out a strangled noise at the new sensation.
Bucky makes a sound of satisfaction as he glides his tongue over your core, his hands clutching your inner thighs tightly, ensuring they remain open.
This...
Youāve talked about sex in hushed whispers with some women in town but they never, ever mentioned anything like this.
When Buckyās mouth closes around your sensitive bud, your hands shoot down and grip at his hair as you let out a moan so coarse you hardly recognise your own voice.
āThatās it,ā Bucky praises, licking your clit. āKeep makinā those noises for me, sweet girl.ā
One of his fingers dances at your entrance, collecting your wetness before tentatively pushing in. How long Bucky spends working you over, you have no idea, but eventually heās plunging three of his thick digits in and out of you.
Your head swirls with the flood of sensations. The flick of his tongue, suck of his mouth, burn of his beard, and stroke of his fingers. Itās so much -
āIāve got you, darlinā, youāre okay, come for me.ā
With one final suck on your clit, your body tenses and shatters.
You cry out in pleasure, tugging on the strands of Buckyās hair as he keeps licking, basking in your undoing.
Itās not until your sounds turn into something small and pitiful at the overstimulation that he stands from the bed, his beard shining with you in the moonlight as he finally undresses.
You eye him hungrily in your dazed state, watching as his shirt flutters to the floor, followed by his trousers. Your stuttered breath fills the otherwise quiet room.
Heās...
Subconsciously, your legs press together again.
Bucky tskās, his hands sliding under your knees and pulling them apart. āSweet girl, what did I tell you?ā
Settling between your legs once more, he hovers above you.
You can only hold his burning gaze for a moment before your eyes drift downwards.
His cock is hard, leaking, and big. You donāt think theyāre supposed to be that big. Your hand would probably only just be able to fit around it, so how was it supposed to fit in you?
āLike whatcha see, darlinā?ā You hear the smirk in his gravelly tone.
Flustered, you mumble out a breathless āItās big.ā
Bucky groans deeply, like heās in pain, and swoops down to kiss you, dominating your mouth.
āDonāt worry, sweet girl,ā He whispers against your lips. āItāll fit in your little pussy.ā
Shivering at his wicked tongue, your eyes dart back to it.
āCan I touch it?ā
Bucky grunts, watching you from underneath his lashes. āSāall yours, darlinā.ā
Timidly, you reach down between your bodies and circle your hand around the base of his cock.
You were wrong. Thereās a small gap where your thumb and middle finger donāt - canāt meet.
Itās hot and heavy in your palm as you give it a curious stroke, up then down. You repeat the action, but this time you trail your thumb along a vein you had felt on the underside of his cock.
Buckyās forehead drops to yours, his breathing laboured.
An upward flick of your eyes shows you that Buckyās have closed, his jaw clenched tight.
The sight sends a shiver through you and with a burst of confidence you tighten your grip around his cock and stroke him again, thumbing at his leaking head when you reach the top.
Hissing, one of Buckyās hands shoots down to grab your wrist.
You look up and see more pupil than iris in his gaze.
Pulling your hand from his cock, Bucky rasps āWonāt last if you keep doinā that, darlinā.ā
The statement thrills you.
Bucky positions your thighs so theyāre resting over the top of his own, spreading you out beneath him.
Gripping himself in one hand, Buckyās eyes study you closely as he nudges at your entrance before slowly pressing in. The initial stretch burns, causing you to chew at your lower lip.
Stopping, Bucky dips down to capture your mouth while his other hand seeks out your clit. He gently rubs the bud, the action both relaxing and distracting as he continues to push in bit by bit until youāve successfully taken him all.
āYou tell me when, darlinā.ā Bucky pants above you, unmoving.
A few minutes pass, and when you feel like youāve adjusted as much as you can, you say āOkay, just...ā
āIāll go slow, sweet girl.ā Bucky promises again, reading your mind.
True to his word, Bucky gradually pulls his hard length out of you before pushing it back in at the same pace. Your teeth snag your bottom lip once more as he moves in and out of you, the feeling just shy of painful.
Bucky never looks away from your face, catching every emotion that flickers across it. Youāre warm and tight - so tight, around his cock and it has him on the brink of madness.
However, itās only your pleasure he cares about and when your face remains pinched on his fourth pull out of you, his eyebrows crease in concern.
As he pushes in on his fifth stroke, Bucky starts āDarlinā, do you -ā
You moan loud and short, the sound a mixture of bliss and surprise as the pain suddenly gives way to pleasure.
Bucky grunts above you, the look on your face seeming to make him even harder as he puts a little more power behind his next thrust, making you moan again.
āThere you go, sweet girl,ā He husks. āThat feel good, darlinā?ā
āYes.ā Your hands wind in his hair, bringing his face down to yours for a desperate kiss as Bucky maintains his slow thrusts.
Somethingās clawing at your stomach, wanton and feral.
Your right hand untangles from Buckyās hair to slide down his muscled back, brushing over the bumps of scars as you go.
Breaking apart, you pant against his lips, āFaster.ā You donāt know how you know thatās what you need, but you do. āHarder, please.ā You implore in a lustful tone.
You havenāt been oblivious to the wild look in his dark blue eyes, to the barely restrained control he exhibits.
Those words, your tone, they unravel Buckyās discipline for a moment, and in an almost uncontrollable action his hips slam up into yours as he grits out āFuck, darlinā.ā
The powerful thrust claws a breathy whine of shock out of you.
āGonna kill me, arenāt ya, sweet girl?ā Bucky murmurs thickly, reining his control back slightly as he does what you asked and pushes into you at a faster pace, his thrusts harder.
Your head tips back into the bed beneath you as you moan, the nails of your right hand digging into their hold on Buckyās back while your left clutches his hair tighter.
āLook at me.ā Bucky commands in a tone so low it rumbles through you.
You tilt your head down to meet his heady gaze.
āJames,ā You whimper, the pressure building within you.
āFuck.ā He thrusts a bit deeper, grinds down a bit harder, making you mewl. āI know, I know darlinā, gonna come for me again, arenāt ya?ā
He gives another hard thrust, the force of it pushing you up the bed.
It feels so good.
āSay my name,ā Bucky groans, rubbing at your clit. āSay my name when I make you come, sweet girl.ā
A pleasure so intense it has your eyes rolling back washes through you, making your entire body tense and relax repeatedly as you moan, whine, and pant for James.
The sight of you coming so undone for him - because of him, sends Bucky hurtling.
Pulling out of your pulsing heat, his right hand squeezes around his painfully hard cock and tugs it roughly, consumed by lust. On the third harsh stroke he spills over your stomach with a wrecked moan of your name.
Your heaving breaths mix together as Buckyās forehead meets yours.
Inching forward, Bucky presses a short, soft kiss to your lips.
āYou okay, darlinā?ā He whispers.
A drowsy, satisfied nod is all you can manage.
ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·
Youāre surrounded by warmth when you blink awake and it takes you a moment to realise the source isnāt the sunlight streaming into your room, but Buckyās body underneath yours.
If heaven was a feeling, this had to be close.
āMorninā darlinā.ā
Tilting your head up from where it rests on Buckyās bare chest, you meet his sparkling gaze and feel your face heat.
In a motion too fast for your freshly awoken brain to comprehend, Bucky cusps your hips and rolls you onto your back, hovering above you.
Nudging your nose with his own, he captures your mouth in a tender kiss.
āHow are you feelinā?ā He asks, pulling back to look at you.
Memories of last night flicker through your mind as you answer honestly. āIām a little sore, but good.ā
Humming, Bucky runs his left hand up and down your side. āJust good?ā
You duck away from his impish stare, making him laugh.
āStill shy after last night?ā He questions with a smile, not actually seeking a response.
Instead, he leans down and kisses you again.
This one is more hungry, his tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth, requesting access you happily grant.
You feel the air in the room thicken as Buckyās left hand continues to roam and knead while both of yours stroke through his lush hair.
Despite the soreness between your legs, you feel the desire starting to pool there.
Breaking apart, you both breathe heavily as Bucky professes āAlready need you again, my sweet girl.ā
Peppering soft kisses all over your face before trailing down to your neck where he rubs his beard against your skin, Bucky whispers āBut I gotta let you recover first if I wanna be able to ruin you all over again, isnāt that right, darlinā?ā
You shudder at his words as he places one last kiss below your ear and stands.
Stepping into his trousers, his midnight blue eyes swim with desire as they peruse your naked body.
Licking his lips, Bucky husks āIāll get breakfast started.ā
āWhen will you go see your friends?ā You ask Bucky as he takes your plate and his to the kitchen sink.
āWhatcha mean, darlinā?ā
āYou said you were waiting to meet with them.ā You remind him, recalling the conversation you shared yesterday.
Yesterday?
It felt like a lifetime ago now.
His silence makes you frown at his back. āYouāre... not meeting them?ā You surmise hesitantly.
Why would he lie about that?
āIf you just needed somewhere to stay a while...ā All he had to do was ask.
Turning around to lean against the countertop, Buckyās arms bulge as they cross over his still bare chest.
Despite the current discussion, the sight makes your stomach flip.
Bucky regards you for a moment before confessing āI heard there was a new gang causinā problems āround these parts.ā
Thatās all he says, leaving you to fill in the blanks.
Your heartbeat quickens at the possible implication of his words.
āSo...ā You prompt softly, daring to hope.
Pushing off the counter, Bucky approaches you, his gaze holding yours as he rests a hand on the table beside you and bends until your eyes are level.
āSo... I needed to make sure my sweet girl was safe.ā He admits, lifting his other hand, āThat she stayed that way.ā Brushing his knuckles over your cheek, he concludes with āIāve got nowhere else to be, darlinā.ā
ā·ā·ā·ā· 6 DAYS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
For six days youāve existed in your own little world, you and James.
You knew it wouldnāt last, but that doesnāt stop the disappointment you feel when life comes crashing back in.
Waking up alone for the first time since you surrendered yourself to Bucky, you donāt think too much of it as you slip on your nightgown.
Venturing out into the hallway, you freeze at the sound of conversation.
Alarm tickles at the back of your neck before you force it away.
Bucky would never put you in danger. Of that, youāre certain.
āYou sure? The lawās been gettinā closer than I like.ā An unfamiliar male voice states.
āWeāve been planninā this for too damn long to back out now.ā Is Buckyās reply.
Sucking in a breath, you know you really shouldnāt be listening to this.
Continuing into the sitting room, you step louder than you normally would, alerting them of your presence.
Two men sit in your kitchen, their hulking figures making the small table between them appear child-sized. Their heads turn and two sets of blue eyes - one light, the other dark - land on you as you loiter awkwardly.
Glancing as long as you dare at the stranger, you note his dark blond hair that brushes against his dirty collar and wild beard which reminds you of Buckyās the first time he knocked on your door.
You know youāve seen his wanted posters, but his name eludes you.
āDarlinā,ā Bucky crooks a finger at you, urging you over to him. āThis is Steve, weāve been friends since we were kids.ā
You could recall the name at the bottom of those posters now.
Steve Rogers.
āHello,ā You greet shyly, offering your name as Buckyās hands reach for your hips and pull you onto his lap.
Not meaning to interrupt, you look up at Bucky and hope your face says as much. He simply squeezes your hips, silently telling you itās okay.
āItās nice to finally meet you,ā Steve declares with a secretive smile. āIām sorry for barging in.ā
āItās okay.ā
āAre you?ā Bucky grumbles at the same time, making Steve chuckle.
This one laughs too.
āIāll give you two a moment.ā Steve appeases, standing up and settling a worn, brown hat on his head.
You realise heās only wearing socks and find it oddly thoughtful that he took his boots off before coming in.
āWeāll have to get properly acquainted some other time.ā Steve remarks. Judging by the way Buckyās grip tightens, heās only saying it to be a menace, āMaybe you can cook me somethinā too.ā
āFuck off.ā Bucky growls, but Steveās already slipping out the front door with a grin.
Grumbling, Bucky lifts you off his lap and onto the table, fusing his mouth to yours.
Once heās successfully created empty space where your brain once was, Bucky pulls back and orders āDonāt you dare cook him or any other man anything, ever.ā
āJames.ā You sigh, smiling.
āYou wonāt like what happens if you do, darlinā.ā He promises in a darker tone.
The thrill that shoots up your spine suggests that maybe you would.
Regardless, you playfully huff āIf you insist.ā
āI do.ā Bucky grunts, kissing you again.
When you break apart, the mood turns solemn.
āYou have to go?ā You ask, already knowing the answer.
āYeah sweet girl, I gotta go.ā
Forcing a smile, you whisper āOkay,ā as if you have any say in the matter.
Rubbing his nose against yours, Bucky reassures āIāll be back darlinā, like always.ā
ā·ā·ā·ā· 3 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
Sighing, you eye the dishes you still have to dry. You wouldāve finished the mundane task by now if you didnāt happen to move at the pace of a snail while daydreaming.
You had spent most of the day in the barn, completing chores. It wasnāt until the sun had almost set that you wandered back into the house and began making dinner.
Once these dishes were away you planned on taking a long bath.
Stacking the last plate, you pick up one of the candles on the dining table and blow out the rest, blanketing the house in darkness.
Using the light source in your hand, you check over all the windows and lock the front door before trudging down to your bedroom.
Stepping into the pitch black room you canāt help but miss the moon and the light it naturally provides as you place the candle on your bedside table, illuminating the small area.
Clutching the bottom of your pale yellow dress, you lift it up and off, leaving you in nothing but a thin chemise when you hear the unmistakable sound of a match striking.
Gasping, you whirl around with your heart hammering in your chest.
āDonāt stop on my account, darlinā.ā Bucky drawls, seated in the chair at the opposite corner of your room.
Waving out the match he just used to light a candle on the dressing table beside him, his dark eyes watch you like a hawk. āGo on.ā
A shiver races down your spine.
This isnāt your usual Bucky.
In an almost nervous manner you reach for the straps of your chemise, hesitating for just a second before pushing them off your shoulders.
You hear Buckyās deep inhale as the fabric pools at your feet.
āCome here.ā
Your feet are quick to obey the order.
Candlelight flickers over his face, allowing you to take in his appearance. He looks much the same as when he left, just a little dirty, but you canāt complain since you are too.
As soon as youāre within reach, Bucky pulls you down onto his lap, your legs settling on either side of him as your naked breasts press into his shirt.
His calloused hands grip your backside roughly, drawing another gasp from you.
Grazing your lips with his own, Bucky whispers āIāve missed you.ā
Youāre not given a chance to return the sentiment as his mouth captures yours.
The kiss is ravenous. All you can do is hang on to him, your hands clutching at the material over his thick biceps as you let Bucky take everything he wants, everything he needs from you.
Both of you are panting for air when he eventually drags himself away, his right hand gliding up your back to cradle the base of your neck and urge your head backwards.
Running his nose under your jaw, all the way down to your collarbone, Bucky groans in satisfaction against your skin. āSmell sāgood.ā
It was merely coincidence that you had been using your lavender oil more often since his comment on the porch.
He bites at the place where your neck and shoulder meet - as if in claim, before licking over the spot, making you moan.
Bucky nips and licks along your collarbone, dipping lower until he can tug one of your nipples between his teeth.
You donāt even realise youāve started rocking against his hard length until both his hands seize your hips, halting your movements.
Raising his head, Bucky coos āThat desperate for me, darlinā? Whereād my sweet, shy girl go?ā
Why those words make you whine at him you have no idea, but Bucky loves it.
Smirking, he slowly rocks you up and down on his covered length and hums āMaybe my girlās not so good, huh?ā
You moan as he moves you faster, pressing you down to rub harder against his straining cock. Clinging at his shirt, your head drops to his shoulder.
āThatās alright darlinā, ācos I plan on doinā very bad things with you.ā Bucky murmurs in your ear, beard scratching at your sensitive skin.
His words, added with the press of his thumb on your clit, undoes you.
Growling, Bucky stands while youāre still whimpering in pleasure and carries you to the bed, manoeuvring your submissive form until youāre on your knees, face down.
Heās never had you like this before.
The sound of Bucky removing his belt has your thighs trembling.
āCanāt wait any longer.ā He grunts, shoving his trousers to the floor before caging your hips. āBeen thinkinā ābout this perfect pussy every day, dyinā to feel it wrapped āround me again.ā
Thatās all the warning you get before Bucky pushes in, the intrusion tearing a shout from you, followed by a drawn out moan.
You feel so full. You didnāt realise how much youād missed this.
How badly youāve been craving it.
āThatās it.ā He purrs, your walls clenching around him. āFuck.ā
Pulling out until just the tip remains, Bucky surges back in.
Keening, you claw at the blanket beneath you.
āYou are a good girl, arenāt ya, darlinā?ā Bucky thrusts into you hard enough to send your whole body pitching forward. Bending down, he husks in your ear, āāCos youāre takinā everythinā I give ya.ā
The way heās talking is hurtling you towards the edge again.
You donāt respond - you canāt, but Buckyās not looking for a reply.
Straightening, he begins pounding into you relentlessly. You swear the bed is going to give out with how it creaks as the frame bangs into the wall, competing with the noises coming from you.
When Buckyās large, rough hand slides under your body to play with your clit, you almost scream.
Chuckling out a groan, he states āYouāre squeezinā the life outta me, sweet girl.ā
Buckyās fingers are as unforgiving as his cock as they rub tight circles on your bud, bringing you to that point.
āCome.ā He growls, leaning over you to wrap his large body around yours as his fingers bully your clit. āNow.ā
Youāre helpless to his demand.
āJames!ā You cry, falling limp as your release slams into you.
Moaning deeply, Bucky pulls out of your spasming core and flips you onto your back. Tugging his cock, he spills onto your stomach, cursing your name.
Collapsing forward, Bucky catches himself on his left elbow, hovering above you.
Youāre breathless, eyes fluttering as he lowers to kiss your lips.
It starts out tender but soon morphs into something lustful as you feel Bucky hardening against your stomach once more. Your resulting whimper breaks the kiss.
āKeep those eyes open, sweet girl,ā He whispers. āIām not done with you yet.ā
ā·ā·ā·ā· THE NEXT DAY ā·ā·ā·ā·
You wake wrapped in Buckyās arms, a smile instantly blooming across your face. Lifting your head from his shoulder, your smile only widens when you notice that his eyes are closed.
Bucky always woke before you, yet here he is, fast asleep.
He looks so peaceful.
For a while you simply watch him, listening to his steady breathing as his chest rises and falls underneath your right palm.
Eventually you canāt resist the urge to brush his brown hair away from his face, which prompts your fingertips to dance across his beard, down the slope of his nose, and over his mouth.
Your forefinger traces along his bottom lip before itās suddenly snagged between his teeth, making you gasp, then laugh.
Buckyās eyes blink open and lock onto you as he releases your finger.
āHi,ā You beam.
āMorninā darlinā.ā The rougher tone of his voice upon waking is a sound youāll never tire of. āWhat you doinā up so early?ā
Huffing at his teasing words, you slide over him and sit up, straddling his firm stomach.
āItās not that early,ā You glare playfully.
Cupping your hips, Bucky smirks āI just know how much my girl likes her sleep.ā
My girl.
Lowering until your nose bumps his, you respond āI like spending time with you more.ā
Bucky gives a weak groan, his hands gliding up to cradle your face and pull you down further, until your mouths connect.
Itās a slow kiss, every stroke of his tongue deliberate as he savours the taste of you.
He doesnāt let you go far when you break for air, his nose prodding yours when he whispers āI have to go.ā
Your eyes widen in protest, āYou just got back.ā
Rolling the two of you over so heās hovering above you instead, Bucky rolls his temple against yours, his forearms digging into the bed on either side of your head.
āThereās a... job I have to do,ā He explains vaguely. āBut once itās done, Iāll be cominā back here for a good while.ā
You mull over his words for a moment before quietly reaffirming āYou will?ā
āPromise.ā
Bucky angles his face lower to press feather-light kisses over your cheeks and down your neck, where he then scrapes his beard, well aware of how much it tickles your sensitive skin.
Only when thereās tears pooling in your eyes and youāre stuttering out between giggles for him to stop does he finally relent, lifting his head.
The grin on his lips is much too boyish to belong to the man who spoke such sordid things to you last night.
You suddenly become vividly aware of everything in that moment.
The dust swirling in the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains, the texture of the sheets against your bare skin, the echo of your heart beat.
Itās the moment you realise -
I love him.
āHow ābout I make us some breakfast?ā Bucky suggests.
Itās right then, with those midnight blue eyes shining down at you, that you almost tell him.
Thankfully, common sense rears its head, snatching the words from your tongue before they can tumble out and ruin everything.
You know he cares for you - possibly adores you in a way, but youāre certain men like Bucky Barnes donāt do love.
So instead you say, āThat sounds great.ā
Youāll take whatever heās willing to give you before he leaves, because you know his absence is going to be even more palpable this time around, and youāll wait as long as you must until he returns to give you more.
ā·ā·ā·ā· 2 WEEKS LATER ā·ā·ā·ā·
Securing Chesterās reins around a post outside the general store, you give his neck a loving scratch as he heartily drinks from the nearby water trough.
Moving around him to retrieve some money from the satchel on your saddle, the thumping sound of running feet grabs your attention.
You look over your shoulder to see four young boys racing past, beelining for the centre of town.
āHurry up or weāll miss it!ā One of the boys shouts back at his lagging friends.
Frowning, you glance around and realise that most people are heading in the same direction.
Closing your satchel with the money still inside, you stride up onto the general storeās porch, intent on asking Billy what all the fuss is about.
A piece of paper nailed to the storeās front door informs you heās not inside, the messily written ābe back afterā only fuelling your curiosity.
Humming in thought, you move off the porch and fall in step with the other folks making their way to the town centre.
Itās an underwhelming reveal.
Your eyes roll when you round the corner and find that the gallows have been erected.
A hanging, of course.
What else drew eager onlookers?
Certainly not one to enjoy such a gruesome sight, you pivot and start back the way you came. Youāll just wait for Billy on the storeās porch.
You take four steps before stopping.
The whole town seems to be gathering - if not more. Only someone with a name important enough to know would attract so much attention.
Fear turns your blood cold.
It canāt be him.
Youāre thinking foolishly, you know that.
In what world did law enforcement ever actually catch someone like Bucky Barnes?
The notion was comical.
However, your need for reassurance has you spinning back around and treading closer.
You weave your way between the large, still-growing crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the criminal yet to be led up onto the high platform for hanging.
After a few minutes youāve only managed to make it halfway through the throng of spectators, the sharp elbows of uncaring men hindering your progress.
Rising up on your toes, you peer around the figures in front of you, focusing on the left corner of the gallows where you know the stairs that lead up to the platform begin.
The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion.
All the bodies in front of you somehow move at precisely the right time, in the right way, to provide you with a perfect, unhindered line of vision to the brown haired man waiting at the bottom of the steps.
Oh god.
The reveal of his face almost brings you to your knees.
James.
His hands are tied behind his back and two deputies flank him, ready to escort him up.
Itās not until your line of sight is broken that the world around you speeds back up, hurtling you into motion.
Like a woman desperate - because you are, you barge through the remaining crowd, ignoring protests and brushing off shoves, until youāve reached the very front.
Flitting around the unsuspecting deputy stationed to keep the mob at bay, you bolt for Bucky, sliding to a standstill in front of him, the tips of your boots touching his.
āDarlinā,ā Bucky speaks like the windās just been knocked out of him, his blue eyes wide.
āJames, what are you - theyāre -ā
You canāt speak. You canāt breathe.
Bucky Barnes didnāt get caught, and he certainly didnāt die.
āYou promised.ā You gasp out, eyes itching with tears āYou -ā
āIām so sorry, baby.ā Bucky whispers, his gaze mournful.
His new, precious term of endearment only pains you more.
āDonāt say -ā
Regaining their wits, the deputies around you spring into action, one of them seizing your arms from behind and hauling you away.
āHey!ā
āDonāt touch her!ā Bucky spits vehemently, rearing forward only to be yanked backwards by the deputies either side of him.
Throwing your right heel back as hard as you can, you catch the deputy in his shin, causing his hold to weaken as he lets out a shout.
Lunging at Bucky, you cling to the front of his shirt.
āPlease James,ā You beseech, like he has any say in this. āI love you, please.ā
You shouldāve told him. You shouldāve told him that morning.
āListen to me, baby.ā Bucky implores, his deep voice gentle for you.
Just for you.
āI want you to know how much I love you, that youāve given a meaninā to my life that I had no right to expect, that no one can ever take from me.ā
āJames.ā You choke out, throat tight with the tears that stream down your face.
He loves me.
The beautiful declaration should fill you with euphoria, not anguish.
āYouāre the best damn thing that ever happened to me.ā Bucky declares, lips curling in a smile as his dark blue eyes soak you in.
When the deputy grabs you this time, thereās no chance of breaking his painful hold even if you had the strength to try - which you donāt.
Your body is limp, weak, and fractured as youāre dragged away from the man you love. The only man youāll ever love.
āItās alright, darlinā,ā Bucky insists over his shoulder as heās pushed up the stairs, his gaze unwavering. āYouāll be okay, I promise.ā
Youāre thrown into the crowd - which parts from you in disgust, all while watching Bucky ascend to the high platform, feeling anything but okay.
They stand him beside the noose and your legs tremble as you begin walking backwards through the horde of bystanders, unconsciously trying to escape whatās about to transpire.
āBucky Barnes...ā A big, well dressed man addresses him before reading out his sentence.
A hand shoots up to cover your mouth, the reality truly sinking in.
Theyāre going to kill him.
Only watching you - always watching you, Buckyās mouth opens.
You canāt hear what he says, but you make out the words.
āClose your eyes.ā
The pain suddenly burns, your shoulders shaking with the force of your tears.
Gasping in a deep, shuddering breath, you look at him one last time.
Hasnāt death taken enough from me?
Forcing yourself to honour his final request, you close your eyes.
Youāre barely aware of anything other than the affliction raging inside you, so you donāt even know how you hear it over the jeering crowd, but you do.
A low whistle.
It shouldnāt mean anything to you, but something tells you to open your eyes.
Blinking through your tears, you twist your head to the right, where the sound had been loudest, and zero in on a man who towers over most others.
A white bandana covers the lower half of his face, but heās staring at you, his bright blue eyes visible as he winks.
Steve?
Veering his gaze from you to Bucky, he whistles again, this time a note thatās sharp and piercing.
People scattered within the crowd around you fling back ponchos, revealing guns that they fire up into the sky or towards the gallows, sending the audience running and screaming as all hell breaks loose.
I feel like bucky said sheād be okay because he knew Steve would take care of her. He knows she can exist by herself, sheās done it this long without her father, but I feel likeāand this is totally me headcanoning hereāeither he made some kind of a deal with Steve if things went south for him, or itās an unspoken thing. Steve knows how much she means to him and he knows that man would not let him down. Thatās his brother.
Him telling her to close her eyes damn near made me lose it all. AND HE WAS ONLY LOOKING AT HER LIKE HE ALWAYS IS FUCKKKJJJJ
This is where I just start screaming shit
HIM TELLING HER HE LOVES HER WAHHHHHHH
ALSO WHEN SHE REALIZED SHE LOVED HIM!!!!! The scene was so You Are In Love by TS. Actually, Iāve decided that whole song is so them. āYou can hear it in the silence. You can feel it on the way home. You can see it with the lights out.ā
I keep thinking about where bucky must be off at while heās away from her and how he somehow always finds his way back to her. Iām sure he knows his way around the area and even further, but still, itās insane that he can always find her home from wherever heās roaming. Sheās his North Star fr.
His possessiveness makes me fucking SWOON!!!!!! The way Steve barely said/did anything and he was already growling about her not cooking him anything. I also love that thatās where he drew the line. I think it says something about how much her actions have meant to him. Especially given the first time he visitedānot recalling the last time he had a home cooked meal. And every time since. Thatās something sacred to him. Only meant to be shared between him and her. So beautiful actually. And also just insanely hot that thatās his best friend and she hasnāt shared more than like five words with him and heās already claiming her so brazenly. God, and the way he pulled her into his lapā¦FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!
THE FIRST TIME TOO!!!!! When he so bluntly told her she drives him crazy in her nightgown FUCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!! And it was out of no where too!!!!! He literally couldnāt hold in that truth if he had a fucking gun to his head!!!! Speaking of gunsā¦
That scene where the robbers show up⦠oh I knew buckyās dick was bigggggggšāāļøšāāļøšāāļø thatās a joke but I did just remember that he really is actually so big FUCKKKKKK my size kink was going crazy this entire fic. But back to the standoff. It was soooooooo cool to see him so close to his element. The way heās crazy smart, tipping his hat low for a big reveal. And the fact that he stayed some extra time just for that⦠my god I love him. I love outlaw!bucky soooooooo fucking bad!!!!!
I wonder if heād ever give it all up for her though. Iād like to think he would, but he also kept leaving, yk? Like weāre just getting to know their budding relationship in this fic, but he never showed any care over leaving, really. It was always just something heās gotta do. Heād tell her heād be back, but he never seemed broken up by it. And thatās not to say he doesnāt love her, but maybe this is just something thatās so ingrained him. Like you canāt cage a wild animal type thing. Heās meant to roam. But also I want him to be hers. So badly. Iām sure she does too lol
Oh my god!!!! When he showed up in her room!!!! That was sooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOoooooo fucking hot!!!!!!!!!! And he waited until she started getting undressed to make his presence known, oh outlaw!bucky you pervšāāļøalso in love with Buckyās scent kink. That man LOVES the smell of his womanšāāļøšāāļøšāāļø oh my fucking god and the way he fucked her from the back SHITTTTTTT!!!!!! Hereās the thing⦠I donāt often enjoy thinking about bucky with other women, but something about the thought of him being a wild man, living outside the law and taking saloon girls left and right and then using that dirty experience to fuck the reader in that way⦠PHEW!!!! Itās the idea of him being a reformed rake. Like he BETTER not be doing that when heās away (kicking my feet thinking about him going to a saloon the frequent on their travels and his regular girl tries to make a pass at him and is shocked and offended to receive a rejection from him. He refuses anyone but his sweet girlšāāļøšāāļøšāāļøšāāļøš¬š¬š¬ good shit). But heās allowed to put to use those talents heās so painstakingly perfected LMFAO. Ugh itās so good though because last we saw was slow, caring (yet no less desperate or passionate) sex. And Iām assuming in those 6 days they spent together he was putting her to work LOL but last we saw as readers was the tame sex. Which is scrumptious and meaningful, of course!!!! But the shift between that and the doggy style shook me in the best way. Especially him having come home and just being in such a state that he needed her carnallyā¦.
About to get nasty real quick but Iām so sad he hasnāt cum inside her yetšcurse him and his intelligence and forethought to pull outš„ I wanna see him crumble so completelyš„š„š„I know itās not everyoneās cup of tea, but especially given the era this takes place in, I feel like it would be sooooo yummy if he let himself go fully. Like already this is pretty bad. Sex outside of marriage per traditional values. But if he were to take the risk and cum inside her and fully claim herāmark herāWOOF!!!!! I need to take a lap
Overall this was amazingly written and I was genuinely marveling at the way you put sentences together and the way you describe actions. Itās just enough to make sense but not over detailed, leaving stuff to the imagination of the reader. Just so so so so good!!!! Fuckkkkkk!!!! This is definitely going into my favoriteās tag. I was going through the fic slowly, savoring it, and just constantly pausing to be like Jesus Christ thereās not one thing wrong with this fic. Nothing in the story, of course, but also flawless writing too.
Firstly... wow. I know this hasnāt been a quick response but honestly Iāve just been sitting with this, re-reading it multiple times and enjoying the hell out of it š„ŗš§” I canāt express how much joy reading all your comments brought me, truly. The best gift Iāve received so far this year.
Anyhoo, Iāll do my best now to answer the wonderful points you made...
You absolutely nailed it. Bucky tells darlinā sheāll be okay because he knows Steve will be there to look over her, an unspoken thing between the two men. Youāre the first to actually ever bring that up, so I canāt tell you how excited I was to see someone say that š¤
You Are In Love is one of my fav TS songs and I agree with everything you said aha.
Okay can I just say, reading Sheās his North Star fr from you made me mad because how dare you be more poetic about them than me š¤ (Seriously, what a perfect metaphor).
Possessive Bucky is goooood shit š I will give more of him in Part 2.
oh I knew buckyās dick was bigggggggšāāļøšāāļøšāāļø - Yes to everything you said here.
Loved reading your wonderings on if Bucky would ever give it up. All I have to say on that for now š¤
Sigh, probably one of my favourite ever scenes, the lurking in her bedroom reveal ahaha. Iām always stoked to see someone love it just as much š Reading you talk about him with other women was just so very fun? interesting? knowing things that happen in Part 2.
I fear we are the same š§š¼āāļø because... I died a little each time I wrote him pulling out š Kink jumping out right now (at least what I like to read lmao) But I wish for the same and being true to the era is a hardship š
Thank you so much š§”š§”š§”š§”š§” Your words mean the world !!
Iāve locked in this year and Iām determined to post Part 2 as soon as itās ready, itās in its second to last edit (if that makes sense š ). Bitchy Nat has seriously become one of my favourite things to write aha, I donāt know why.
Love you for this seriously, thank you, I canāt tell you how much I enjoyed reading all of this, itās given me a real boost!! š§”š§”
i just hit 15k words on treacherous part two, so it will definitely be split up into two parts me thinks, anyway here's a part two spoiler with zero context
Treacherous has been one of the best fics I have read in my whole 10 years of reading on here. If I had nothing left to read on earth but that fic I would be happily content with that for the rest of my life. I will be rereading like itās scripture to me at this point. I loved every single detail! Your mind truly is a thing of beauty how you curated such beautiful words on a screen together. I wish nothing but wonderful amazing things for you sweetheart. š
a message like this is so dangerous because i will let it go to my head. i have said it a lot but treacherous is my favourite piece of work and any and all love it gets means so much to me. to hear someone say they enjoy it so much, or felt so much reading it, is astounding.
treacherous was absolutely amazing. the way you told the story and how you wrote bucky was just, wow. AND THE ENDING?!?? IM SO CURIOUS!! you are such a talented author omg thank you for blessing my eyes i hope your pillow is always cold and your charger works at any angle
never have i received such beautiful blessings, thank you so much ššš§” and i am so glad you enjoyed treacherous <3
Iāve just finished another reread of treacherous. itās become my go-to read in stressful times (I have a big comprehensive exam tmrw, do I have other things to read than a 10k fic? yes, but I digress). WHAT DID YOU PUT IN THAT FIC? howwwww is outlaw!bucky everything I need and more? the gentleness! the adoration! the fact that he keeps coming back! omgggg I swoon every single time!!!! and the ending? just know that Iām going to be the biggest fan of treacherous 2 whenever itās coming. sooo pls know that outlaw!bucky has made very stressful times of my life at least a little bit better. I thought you deserve to know that š„°
AHH! thank you so so much!! š§”š§”
it makes me so happy to know that treacherous is so loved or should i say outlaw!bucky š¤ i cannot wait to share treacherous part 2 with you and every other sweet individual who has shown their love to treacherous. thank you so much for such a wonderful message šāØ
You are SUCH an incredible writer omg there's something about the way you write that just feels so real and relatable and it lets me get completely absorbed into the story. Your fics just feel so... comfy? Idk that's the best way I can describe it. Like I wanna be by a fireplace and it's raining out and just get lost in your writing. The number of times I've reread Mess is Mine... and Little Bird and Treacherous too (the smut in that one is incredible) ahhh I just had to come incoherently gush about your stuffš thank you so much for sharing your writing with us
thank š you š so š much š
i am beyond honoured to have my writing thought about in such a way, it means the world!! thank you so much for reading but more importantly taking the time to write me such a beautiful message, it means a lot šāØ
summary: After another frustrating day of rehearsals, Derek offers to help you relax.
pairing: derek wills x f!reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: smut (18+ only!!), semi-public mirror sex, fingering (f receiving); unprofessional behaviour at best; derek being an asshole; mostly unedited; please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.
a/n: let me tell y'all, being in bed with an absolutely awful cold for days on end is one hell of a way to remember that you have free will. and while i truly can't do much at the moment, what i can do is post my incredibly niche smut. honestly, no prior knowledge of the show required, this is mostly me going feral.
masterlist | read on ao3
You can feel your blood thrum in your ears with every step, your movements strong and precise despite your exhaustion. Your chin stays up, five-six-sidestep-eight, donāt look down, hold that note, smile at Jamie, turn aroundā
"Stop."
ādonāt glance over, kick-two-and-four-and-what-was-the-line, turn left into the dip andā
"Stop!"
The music cuts out and you turn your head to glare at Derek. "What is it now?"
"Funny," he says, leaning back against the table with his arms crossed in front of his chest, "I was going to ask you the same thing."
You roll your eyes.
Under any other circumstances, youād have probably found yourself quite enamoured with your assistant director. After all, Derek Wills is brilliant, dedicated, handsome; he has a keen eye for detail and heās unafraid of anyoneās judgment of him. If youād met him in a bar or a friend introduced to you, youād probably let yourself fall head-first into an ill-advised dalliance.
Unfortunately, the first time youād met was on the first day of rehearsals for your first ever principal role, and all of his intriguing traits make him an absolute nightmare to work with. Most days, with your director present, he holds himself back at least somewhat, even though it clearly pains him when things donāt go his way. This time, though, heās outdone himself.
The show opens in less than two weeks, and with tech looming just around the corner, heās decided to completely uphaul the entrāacte number. Now, thereās a whole new choreography youāre expected to learn on top of everything else.
The whole company is irritated over it, of course, but most of them have more of a dancing background than you do. Add to that nine and a half brutal hours of rehearsals and you want to rip Derekās head off.
"Iām doing your damn quick dance," you say through gritted teeth. Jamie pulls you upright again, giving your hand an empathetic squeeze.
"However much I wish that were true, here we are."
"What on earth is your problem with me?"
"My problem isnāt with you, itās with your performance today."
"Alright," the stage manager interrupts, tiredly massaging her temples. "Itās been a very long day. How about we break this up and come back tomorrow at 10:00?"
Thereās a relieved mumble of assent as everyone around you starts collecting their bags and trickling out of the room. In the end, Derek is the first one to look away. You shake yourself out of your angry stupor.
"Ignore him," Lucy whispers as you take a long swig from your water bottle. "You did really well today."
"Not as well as you."
Even over the noise of everybody leaving, Derekās shout of your full name is sharp enough to make her flinch.
"Breakfast tomorrow?"
"If I make it out alive."
She squeezes your shoulder and then hurries out the door. It falls shut with a foreboding thud.
You can feel the glare in your neck, but it doesnāt deter you. Unhurriedly, you pack up your things, rolling your aching shoulders. Once you get home, youāre going to take a nice, hot bath to soothe your burning muscles; itās the first thought in a couple of hours that makes you smile to yourself, however briefly.
When you finally do turn around, youāre met with pure British disdain.
"Can I help you?"
"You do realise Iām doing this so the press wonāt eat you alive, right?"
"How kind of you."
"It is, actually. You know, I have two other shows that I should be working on instead of doing this."
"Well, no one asked you to, Derek. Youāre not the director. Steven thinks Iām a fine dancer, or else he wouldnāt have cast me."
"Steven doesnāt give a ratās ass about this performance. Which is why heās added all of these last-minute changes weāve been trying to get through and Iām the one having to drill it all into your heads. A job which, frankly, would be a lot easier if I didnāt also have to try to stop this showās only real musical talentās attempts to bulldoze her career before itās even taken off."
Itās about as much of a compliment as heās ever given you, and that very fact takes the steam out of you somewhat. You watch as he turns away from you again and flicks on the metronome on the table.
"Youāre insufferable," you say, but it doesnāt have the same conviction in it.
"Maybe. But Iām right, and you know it." He pulls up a chair and sits down on it backwards, crossing his arms on the backrest. "Go again from the pivot."
"What, on my own?"
He raises his eyebrows in clear amusement. "Please."
Thereās a challenge in his eyes, and despite your aching bones, the last thing you want is to back down from it.
You hold his gaze for a couple of moments longer, the only sound in the room the ticking coming from the metronome. Then, with an annoyed groan, you drop your bag.
"Whenā"
"No," he interrupts immediately and you roll your eyes. "Just the dance."
You press your lips together, but donāt argue. Pivot left, double step, head stays up, donāt flap your arms. It feels strange not to sing over the routine; itās gotten so ingrained in your head over the past couple of days. Breathe now, five-six-sidestep-eightā
Derek sighs. "Youāre doing it again."
You finish your turn with a glare. "Doing what, exactly?"
"The little stick arms. Your entire back is stiff and it looks like youāre going through a checklist whenever you reach that part."
"So you want me to, what, smile more?"
"Would your character smile more?"
His question catches you off guard, as does the fact that he seems to be expecting an answer.
"In the script, sheāsāā
"I know what it says in the script. What do you think?"
"Itās not just the choreography. I donāt think this number makes sense. I get why the show needs an uptempo number to start act two, but I just ⦠it doesnāt really connect."
It gives you emotional whiplash, going from this scene to the next, but that addition seems a bit too unprofessional.
Derek squints at you, seemingly lost in thought. You wrap your arms around yourself self-consciously.
After some time, he adjusts the metronome to a slower tempo. "Go again."
Itās funny; even though nothing else has changed about your choreography, it feels much clearer, more deliberate, almostā
The chair scrapes over the linoleum floor as Derek stands, crossing towards you in a few long strides. You hesitate, one arm still outstretched to where you would normally catch Jamieās hand for the twist.
"Ignore me," he mumbles, his look of concentration never wavering. "Again."
Ignore him? Like you've ever been able to do that. You can feel his gaze prickle in your neck, cataloguing every move, every tilt of your head. Your fixed smile wavers.
Chin up. Sidestep. Eight. Turn.
Your dip is coming up. Why isnāt he interrupting you?
When you turn left, a warm hand catches yours while another curls around your arched back in one smooth motion. You freeze, your mouth half-opened in surprise, and your fingers inadvertently tighten around his.
A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins as the world turns upside down.
Slowly, gently, Derek pulls you up into the rest of your spin. You watch yourself in the mirrors covering the opposite wall, coming to a standstill way too close to him, his chest almost brushing your back. He smells nice, you think nonsensically.
"You need to relax," he says lowly, his breath fanning your ear, and, oh. Thatās what this is.
Tension hums in the air between you, and youāre not even facing each other.
You let go of his hand, but you donāt step away. "Funny."
"I can help you with that."
Itās an offer, maybe even a question. For a moment, it hovers, just like the two of you do, not quite touching, not quite crossing the line. Yet. The metronome on the table keeps clicking.
Heat trickles down your spine.
This is a terrible idea, one youāre certain to regret tomorrow, hell, a few hours from now. Itās unprofessional, unethical and plain wrong, and ā¦
Almost imperceptibly, you nod.
You donāt see his eyes in the mirror, but something about him softens as he moves even closer. His hands graze your sides as they settle around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly, gently, they wander towards your waistband.
"Say the word and we never have to speak of this again."
You exhale shakingly.
His growing bulge presses into you from behind as his fingers slip lower, teasing you through the thin material of your panties. You gasp when they find your clit, your hips chasing his touch.
For all his usual antics, heās surprisingly careful with you; almost tender, even in the way he pushes the fabric to the side and starts spreading your slick. It seems so at odds with the scene that unfolds in the mirror, your head falling against him as you hold onto his arm, his neck, trying to anchor yourself with a low whine.
"Shhh," Derek whispers, dragging his lips down your neck. "You need to be nice and quiet for me. Can you do that?"
People might still be working, your mind supplies hazily as a soft wave of pleasure starts to build. For some reason, the thought doesnāt deter you in the slightest.
You buck into his hand again, making him stifle a groan of his own against your shoulder. Before you can feel too happy about that, though, one of his fingers pushes inside you and you have to bite your lip in order not to make a sound. Your grip on him tightens, your stance widening.
"Look at you," he mumbles, sounding almost mesmerised as he keeps thrusting into you, his thumb lightly flicking over your clit. You clench around him, desperate for more friction. For once, he obliges. "Youāre doing so well."
Another finger sinks into you right as he adds the perfect amount of pressure to your clit, his other hand rubbing soothingly against your stomach as you're pushed closer to the brink.
"Thatās it," you hear him murmur, as if to himself. "So good for me."
You gasp, your eyes rolling back in your head. "Derek!"
"Iāve got you," he says, his hold steady and warm. "Eyes open, darling."
You whimper softly, trying to find him in the mirror. He smiles against your shoulder, nipping at your skin.
"I want you to let go for me now," he tells you, his voice a gentle rumble against you. "Can you do that?"
You nod, or you think you do. Itās hard to tell, really, when all you can focus on is the mounting pleasure building higher and higher, untilā
"Just like that. Good girl."
With a shudder, you come undone.
Youāre boneless in his arms, your knees wobbling in your high-heeled dance shoes as you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. His hardness is pressing against you, but before you can even attempt to turn in his arms and help him take care of that, he slips his hand out of your pants and takes a step backwards.
"Now go again."
You blink, your chest still heaving. "What?"
"Go again," Derek repeats. "Try to feel it this time instead of just moving."
A breathless laugh falls fro your lips. "Are you fucking serious right now?"
"I think we both know that I am." He sits down on his chair again, his erection painfully obvious. "Try it. Stop being afraid to feel."
"Iām not," you say automatically. The metronome keeps clicking.
He raises his eyebrows. "Show me."
So you do.
Thereās no way in hell any of your steps are anywhere close to precise. Youāre off rhythm and shaky, and you almost stumble when you catch Derek put his fingers in his mouth as he watches you, his face that unreadable mask of concentration again.
Somehow, though, the number feels different this time. Like youāve released some inner tension that had kept you from falling into the routine.
This is absolutely fantastic, you think to yourself as you move. On top of everything else, he had to be right.
When you twist to a halt just before youād normally dip, Derek smirks. "Now weāre talking."
"You happy now?" you ask, breathing hard.
"Exceedingly, darling." He flicks the metronome off, reaching for his script next to it and starts flicking through. "Youāre right about the tempo," he continues, scribbling something down. "Weāll slow the second half of the number to transition into the next scene."
"You think Stevenās gonna let you get away with that?"
"Leave that to me," he says, looking at his watch. "Shit, I need to go. You, go home, try to be on time tomorrow."
You gape at the dismissal, watching him gather his things without so much as another glance at you. "Derek!" you say incredulously.
"Right." He turns, a hectic look in his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Youāre gonna be a star, darling. Just you wait."
Before you can reply, heās out of the room, still half-hard in his pants.
The lights flick off.
thank you for reading š«¶š¼ leave a comment to send me virtual tissues because honestly i'm running out. if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!
edit: i'm currently high on ibuprofen and completely forgot to give the appropriate shout outs š big thank you to @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane and @scrumptious-delusion who read this fic first, i would do anything for u š«¶š¼
did i know this character beforehand? no. did i need to? not at all, because like five sentences in and i did know him, ya know - the handsome, irritating asshole type that i am so scarily drawn to š
āIāve got you,ā he says, his hold steady and warm. āEyes open, darling.ā
i was found unresponsive during this whole scene AND THEN THE ABRUPT -
āNow go again.ā
flabberghasted. shocked. in denial.
like sir? no, letās see through what youāve started to the end please š sksks
iāve written about 10k ~edited~ words so far which i want to say is about halfway... (so the fic might be broken up into two, iāll cross that bridge when i get to it)
it picks up straight where treacherous left off, in buckyās pov (the fic will alternate between reader and buckyās pov) then follows as reader becomes immersed in buckyās outlaw life (neither of them having a choice in the aftermath of that event).
throughout this weāll meet and spend time with buckyās gang, discover something about readerās family, follow along as bucky and his gang pull off something big š and of course get lots of bucky and reader interactions š„ŗš
Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPS.
thank you for the tag @marvelstoriesepic! <3
lord knows every writer loves talking about their WIPs more than writing them (or is that just me??) but iām actually forcing myself to do some writing rn so š¤š¤
donāt judge the working titles š¤£
take my hand, wreck my plans ~ outlaw!bucky (treacherous sequel)
the discovery ~ mercenary!steve (the expedition sequel)
hush, my dear ~ outlaw!steve (treacherous spin-off)
dawn (part four of little bird series)
a deadly game ~ criminal!bucky x detective!reader
weāll meet again ~ 40s!bucky x modern!reader
i think he knows ~ biker!steve x baker!reader
no pressure tags: @intrepidacious @brandycranby @perdidosbucky-yyo & anyone else who wants to do this <3