#Not the fisheye stare ＼(;´□｀) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesugarclubs-blog · 1 year

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Bad Moon Rising - AU Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: Beefy CW Bucky, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, injured Bucky, nurse OC, AMA soft smut, 18+

word count: 14.3k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1323546350-bad-moon-rising-wren

Masterlist

Wren wrapped a towel around the broken handle of her kettle and pulled it from the element as soon as it started screaming at her. Rushing from changing without even slipping on a t-shirt over her sports bra she poured the boiled water of the mix of flowers and herbs she had combined to help her sleep. Her first night off in months and she couldn’t sleep.

The nightmares lately had been killing her.

Night shifts at the hospital downtown weren’t helping. She could hear the screams, see the piled-up medical supplies, and smell the copper tang of fresh blood mixed with stale vomit. Not to mention her mystery patient. Slinking in through the backdoors, demanding she stitched up wounds he couldn’t explain. She knew he was someone, she just couldn’t figure out who. Everything in the world had gone to shit. The city was a war zone after the S.H.I.E.L.D ships came down, everyone was a fugitive and the streets ran rampant without the threat of Captain America looming.

She brushed her long dark hair up into a ponytail before grabbing her mug and padding across her studio apartment in her socks and pajama pants. The moonlight from the clear sky shone across her dark flooring as she settled into her long thrifted velvet couch with a sigh. She stared at the clock that hung above her TV against the wall, the hands mocking her as they ticked slowly by.

She sipped at her tea and, by the time she’d finished half of it her eyelids were beginning to droop despite the manic energy swirling through her mind. She let her head roll against the back of the couch rather than disturb the longed-for feeling of tiredness and her eyes finally slid shut.

Wren jolted awake sending her half empty mug spinning across the floor as it fell from her lap. Heart hammering, she listened out for whatever had pulled her from sleep. Pounding on her front door made her jump once again and the adrenaline that coursed through her veins made her nerves tingle.

She carefully raised from her position on the couch and made small steps towards the door. Tension filled her body while she heard the pounding again. Or was it her heart that was beating like galloping horses?

"Hello" a muffled male voice came from outside of her apartment. It sounded desperate or maybe just tired? Her senses were not fully awake and she couldn't trust her gut feeling at the moment.

Wren came to a halt right in front of the wooden door before she slowly pressed her eye on the peephole to look at who was standing in the hallway.

What she saw had her rubbing her sleep filled eyes. Distorted through the small fisheye lens, the man stood — or slumped — against the wall to the right.

His hair, long and damp looking in the low light of her entryway, hung over his face but she’d recognise the intense stare he had directed on the peephole anywhere.

“I know you’re there,” the man breathed, voice low. Steady even though he looked like he was about to crumble to the floor.

Wren should have been more concerned about how he found her, tracked down where she lived to turn up at her door like this. But then she caught the stain of blood on his hand as he ran it through his hair and suddenly she was pulling the door open.

"You..." Wren breathed, peeking her head around the door and looking both ways down her apartment hallway.

She wasn't sure why, but given the amount of times he'd snuck through the back of the hospital and had her tend to him in a supply closet, made her feel as though his presence wasn't safe. It was just the way all their meetings had gone.

Stepping into the hallway, she slung her long dark hair over her shoulder as she looked him over, the blood dripping from his head catching her attention more than the stains that seeped through his burgundy long sleeve.

It was going to be a long night.

“What…How…?” She asked opening the door further and scanning his entire body and began to take in his injuries that she was able to see. From what Wren could tell he had a cut somewhere on his head, possibly one on his chest judging by the dark spot on his shirt and one on his thigh that looked really deep.

“You weren’t at the ER,” the man said slowly, sliding down the wall in a strained voice.

"Today was my day off. " She almost whispered. Her helper instinct told her to let the man in, though the voice of reason in her head said to not to. In the end, the goodness in her heart won and she offered the man a steadying hand.

He placed a bloodied hand on hers, his left hand swung across his chest clutching onto his wounded flank. He pushed himself off the wall and his balance faltered slightly, Wren moved quickly to his right side throwing his bleeding arm across her shoulders to steady him.

"M'sorry," he whispered, his head lolling her way. When Wren lifted her gaze towards his, his eyes were glossy the bright blue hue she had been able to admire in their previous encounters clouded with pain. She caressed his wet crimson tinged hand with her thumb instinctively, an apologetic smile gracing her face.

"It's ok, I've got you," Wren tightened her hold on his waist and pushed the door further open with her toes, "let's get you cleaned up."

She looked around the small apartment, she wasn’t about to let him bleed all over her couch. And she was pretty sure the dining chairs she had put together with an Allan key weren’t going to hold his dead weight.

Or the table for that matter.

“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “Okay, come on,” she said through clenched teeth.

The two hobbled across the flat, Wren doing her best to hide her grunts of struggle under his enormous weight. His hand gripped tightly to her shoulder, digging into the muscle as she helped him down to the floor. She scrunched her face up in pain, knowing her skin would be painted purple with his finger tips.

He hit the floor with a rough thud bringing Wren to her knees beside him. His good arm catching his fall, the boards beneath his gloved hand bowed and whined from the impact.

The man let out a small whimper, trying to sit up against the wall of her living room. “I’m sorry,” he said.

If Wren didn’t know that the man in front of her was seriously in pain, she would have thought he was drunk because of the way he staggered them across her apartment.

“It’s fine,” she responded, a little out of breath.

Her eyes met his crystal blues, taking in the way they looked under the sliver of moonlight coming through the windows until his gaze went to her shoulder and he slightly shook his head in fear.

“It’s not okay,” he said, nodding his head towards the streaks of blood he left behind.

She saw him trying to get up again.

“No, no, no. You’re gonna sit down, okay?” She placed her hands on his shoulders, softly pushing him down again, making him nod in response.

There was an air of defeat about him that tugged at her heartstrings, as if he’d rather be anywhere else than in her apartment but knew he had no other choice.

“Look,” she sighed, “this has got to be better than trying to stitch you up in a supply closet, right?”

The man huffed out what might have been a chuckle but his eyes lost focus and began to roll back in his head.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me big guy,” Wren said urgently, tapping her hand against his scruff-covered cheek.

His skin was clammy, cool to the touch while dark circles made his eyes seem even more piercing when they fluttered open than Wren usually thought. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as he spoke.

"I'm just...fuckin' tired," he murmured weakly. "Of all of it."

Wren swallowed down the massive lump that appeared in her throat.

He'd abruptly appeared at the hospital three separate times and she felt the soft spot for the dark haired man sitting before her, even if the head nurse on her shift teased her about it. It was always a dislocated finger or maybe a stitched up eyebrow. Never anything this bad. She couldn't tell where the blood ended and the red of his Henley began.

"I know you are," Wren replied in a stern tone just as careful as her touch. "I need you awake, so I can check you out, and you might have a concussion which means you shouldn't be sleeping."

The man gave her a barely discernible nod, licking his bloody, split lip. She gave him a soft smile before caressing his hand once more.

"Yes, ma'am," his voice rasped between heaving breaths, his head thunking against the wall but his electric eyes were fixed directly on her own.

Wren swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up as she stood to grab her kit and some towels, turning away to hide her own smile of satisfaction.

With quick steps she made her way back to him, the first aid kid in one hand and towels in the other.

"Can you tell me what happened to you..." she asked while opening the kit and putting on some rubber gloves.

"Bucky... I think." the man on the floor whispered. He furrowed his eyebrows while trying to remember his own name and Wren could see another drop of blood leaving the nasty gash on his eyebrow. Trailing down his prominent cheekbone before it gathered on his facial hair.

"You think?" she asked with a slight chuckle.

She looked up and down his body to examine which wound she needed to take care of first. Underneath his thigh was a small puddle of blood, but not big enough to assume that the wound led to a ruptured artery or vein. Which was good as she wouldn't be able to stitch that up right here right now. As the henley was soaked with his blood, she wasn't sure if he had severe wounds on his upper body that needed immediate medical attention.

"I need to check your upper body for wounds. Can you lift your shirt a little for me?

He shook his head and Wren let out a frustrated sigh.

"Bucky, if you want me to patch you up, I need you to lift your shirt."

He grimaced and made an effort to move, but his face twisted in pain and his body jolted. A lump immediately formed in her throat, her eyes watering as though she could feel the deep pulses of pain through her own body. This was bad, far worse than she was able to treat at home.

"Can't." He shook his head.

"Then you need a hospital."

His eyes went wide and he shook his head, terror eclipsing his face. Wren watched as tears began to slide down his cheeks. Whatever happened to this man had him petrified.

"N-- no. No, please. I don't trust them. Just you." With what little strength he had, he was able to reach for her, his large gloved hand wrapping around her wrist. "Please."

She drew in a breath and nodded, grabbing a pair of scissors out of her kit.

"I'm gonna have to cut you out of this. Okay?"

He nodded, sweat making his forehead slick. His dark hair was plastered to his head and he was getting paler by the second. Wren brought her hand to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to the scissors to slice through it. It was thin and flimsy, the couple of times she'd seen him, he was wearing this Henley. Bucky kept his eyes closed as Wren continued to glide the scissors through the fabric before finally cutting it away. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood and shallow cuts that surrounded his stomach. And then she saw metal and her breath hitched. Badly healed scars littered the area where skin met metal but she could see new thin ridges from nails pulling at the site and her chest tightened.

When she looked up, Bucky's eyes were on hers, his eyes glossy with tears.

"I can't run anymore," he whispered. "I can't stop it."

"Stop what?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and a soft sob escaped his lips. Wren took a deep breath and nodded, her heart pounding. She reached out and cupped his cheek. What the hell happened to him?

"Let's focus on stopping the bleeding and we'll figure out the rest later. You're safe here, Bucky."

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open and Wren held his gaze, wanting to see that he understood. That she would do everything she could to fix him up, without pain, without distress.

When she felt the tension in him wither, a docile nod and softening of his eyes, she stroked a thumb tenderly over his grazed cheek and smiled.

Dropping her hand, she gathered cotton and the saline solution from her first aid kit.

“I’m not actively trying to hurt you, Bucky, but this will probably be a little cold,” she warned, “you gotta stay with me, okay?”

With the lack of response, she sucked in a deep breath as she gently moved aside some of his long dark hair that was plastered to his forehead, revealing a large gash at his hairline that extended down to the end of his eyebrow. Blood dripped down into the scruff of his jaw and his head fell backwards against the wall once more.

Wren softly touched the soaked piece of gauze against the cut, causing Bucky to wince, his hand instinctively coming up to grab her wrist.

He let go almost as quickly as he'd grabbed her, a tear escaping his bright blue eyes, "I'm so sorry..." he whispered.

She gently swiped at the tear as it trailed down the dried blood and dirt on his face. Wren shook her head softly doing everything she could to ignore the terror laced within the blue and green flecks of his eyes, "it's okay Bucky," she said in a soft whisper, "I know it hurts."

Wren made to move her hand with the cotton back to the gash before stopping herself, her eyes flicked up to the gash once more before tilting her head slightly to catch his exhausted gaze, "I have to stop the bleeding," she pulled her hand back gesturing to the gauze, "can I?"

Bucky's eyes darted between her and her hand before he nodded softly.

"I won't hurt you Bucky," she reassured, forcing a warm smile between the cracks forming in her heart and pressed the gauze to his hairline. He winced but didn't reach for her wrist this time. Bucky only let out a soft grunt, forcing his eyes closed to ward off the pain.

The gauze bunched in her hand was almost instantly soaked with the blood seeping freely from his wounds and she replaced it with another, pressing it firmly against the gash to stop the blood and keep him from bleeding more.

Every movement of her hands was followed by his tired but piercing gaze and a whimper of pure pain escaped his swollen lips when she pressed the gauze against the wound.

"I'm so sorry," Wren whispered, her voice breaking at the sight of his anguish.

Bloody gauze littered the floor but somehow she managed to stop the bleeding.

"How are you holding up, big guy?" Her fingers grazed the noticeable stubble on his defined jawline.

On the outside, Bucky looked like he was built tough but it was not his outside scarring that worried her. It was the utterly broken soul that she could see struggling in the deep blue of his eyes everytime he looked at her.

He pulled in a shaky breath, a barely audible fine slipping through his lips.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Yeah no, you sure look fine."

Wren took out the butterfly stitches from her kit and began placing them along his wound. She closed the distance between them further when she pushed herself back upwards and could feel his warm breath fan along her neck with each rise and fall of his chest. When she placed the final one, just below his eyebrow, he placed his hand gently above hers and shifted his eyes upward.

She swallowed thickly at the contact, the way his eyes pierced into hers had her heart hammering against her ribcage, a soft thankful smile twitching at his lips.

She smiled softly back at him before gently pushing on his head to angle his chin upward to inspect the wound again. She didn't want to miss any minuscule rips in his skin that may be bleeding in the dim light that her apartment provided.

"Who were you fighting this time? That seems to be the default story for everyone coming into the ER," she rambled as she ran her eyes over him, cataloging all the injuries. His fingers still pressed gently against hers in a protest for her to stay close. "I need both hands to examine you, Bucky."

He swallowed thickly, letting go of her slowly before he rubbed the palm of his hand against his eye, blowing out a huff of hot air that brushed over her neck and collarbone. "I- I didn't hurt anyone," his speech was sticky and slow as he shifted uncomfortably against the wall, rolling his massive shoulders back. Every muscle under the skin flexing and tugging sorely as he did so.

Wren pulled away slightly and turned, reaching for yet another swab when she felt a large hand at her waist. The touch was light, respectful, almost hovering, and she whipped her head back round to face him.

“Don’t…go…please. Don’t go.” He mumbled, his gaze fixed on her.

With a hand on his chest to reassure him, Wren scrabbled blindly for the swabs on the floor.

“It’s ok, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” she reassured.

She worked for a few more moments in tense, copper-scented silence. His blood covered her gloves as she swiped along his sticky skin, eyes flitting over bruise after bruise with years of experience. This wasn't going to be easy, especially when most of his injuries weren't of the physical kind. That much was abundantly clear to Wren.

"You don't have to do this," he mumbled and she blinked a few times, clearing her racing thoughts.

"What do you mean?" she softly sighed, shifting her attention to his chest now that the gushing from his forehead had ceased.

"Help me," he sighed, voice laden with exhaustion. "You don't have to…”

The wound was deep, but short, as if it was more of a stab. She wondered for a moment how the edges of the cut were already turning pink, fresh skin starting the healing process and looking as if it were days old and not just a few hours.

"Why wouldn't I?" she replied, eyes flashing down to his with surprising irritation.

"No one else has," he said, barely audible in the hum of Wren's kitchen and she felt another crack spread throughout her chest, bleeding a mix of feelings onto her worn tiles. Anger at who did this, frustration that he couldn't find help when he needed it most, and gut wrenching sadness that it seemed as if she was the only person in the world he could depend on.

"I’m sorry to hear that, Bucky." Wren responded. She locked her gaze with his again and the fear and sadness in his blue eyes looked like the sea after a heavy storm.

"Maybe... maybe I deserve all this pain." he averted her gaze and looked down to his thighs. Another tear escaped his eyes and found its way down his stubbled cheek. His jaw shook while he tried to hold back the sobs.

Wren felt like this was the final crack that made her heart shatter and she felt her own tears pooling in the edges of her eyes.

"Don't say that," She grabbed his chin, gently tilting it upwards and forcing him to look at her again, “nobody deserves pain."

"But I did horrible things. I... I... I deserve to be punished." he whispered barely audible.

“Bucky, nobody deserves this.”

He shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“I do. I hurt people,” he rasped. “It’s all I do.”

The words made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. The couple of times she had treated him, he was quiet. Gentle, even. Cooperative. She’d even go so far as to describe him as sweet. He always had a soft smile on his face though his eyes were a little sad. She had seen a lot of broken people in her time at the hospital, but nothing like this. This was pain buried so deep that Wren wasn’t sure she would be able to find the source of it. But she could feel it, feel how he was shattering like glass right in front of her.

His chin trembled and more tears spilled down his face. She was right there to brush them away, and he flinched, his eyes widening as fear flooded them. Wren felt her guts twist. She could patch up the cuts and bruises, she could stop the bleeding, but this felt like decades of poison and pain finally rising to the surface. It was volcanic and suffocating. He sniffled, his body trembling with a mixture of grief, anguish, and trepidation. Her hand hovered over his face, only resting against his skin when he nodded and leaned into the touch as his eyes closed. He seemed to be perplexed by softness, his body always expecting a sharp edge or a punch. He looked exhausted. Stuck in survival mode.

“You’re not hurting me. You couldn’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that,” he replied. “I can’t control it.”

“Control what?”

His face crumpled, along with his body as he began to sob. He collapsed into her, his face buried in her shoulder as he began to weep. Wren held him, her throat closing up as she held back tears. Her chest ached.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered. “You’re okay. I promise, you’re okay.”

The fingers of her right hand traced gentle circles onto the broad expanse of his back. There were so many questions floating in her head but she didn’t want to overwhelm him.

She had experience working in the trauma unit, she knew when the body and mind were experiencing such high levels of pain and anguish it was no use to poke and prod for information. She just needed to repeat that he was safe here, with her.

It was that thought that got her. He’s safe here, with her. That was all she wanted for this man- for him to rest and feel comfort, even if it was for a few moments.

Wren couldn’t hold back any longer. The weight of everything unspoken was too much for her to bear. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks, and she pressed the side of her face gently into the top of Bucky’s head.

“You’re okay,” she repeated in a broken whisper. She tasted the salt of her tears as she spoke, unsure of who exactly she was trying to reassure.

With Bucky’s heaving breaths winding down beneath her, Wren dried her own tears. Crying for this man was not going to help right now, no matter how heavy her heart was feeling or how her gut twisted with each soft sob that shook his body.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she started, breath hitching even as she tried to keep her voice even. Bucky glanced up at her, wide eyes glistening and eyelashes sticking together with his tears. “I’m going to finish stitching you up, and then we’ll get you clean, and warm.”

“I don’t—“

“I’m going to get you clean and warm,” she reiterated. “Let me do this for you, Bucky. You don’t deserve to be bleeding and cold on my living room floor, no matter how much you think you do.”

A soft sigh left his lips as he blinked at her a few times, biting at the inside of his cheek. Wren knew once her job was done here, and he was cleaned up, maybe just maybe he'd be more willing to talk to her. For now, her main focus was to stop this bleeding and prevent an infection. Her mind had to stay sharp as if she were back in that supply closet, because if she didn't. If she let herself slip into just being Wren. The heartbreak for this broken man in front of her would take over.

"I need you to... I need to take off your pants, Bucky," she cleared her throat and moved herself slightly backwards, "I need to get a clearer look at that nasty gash on your thigh"

His breath quickened as he looked at her. Slight hesitation in his movements showed her how nervous he really was, but he didn't argue. Undoing the button on his jeans, he moved his back up the wall enough to pull them over his hip and shimmy them down gently over his thick thighs.

Wren couldn't stop her eyes from wandering over his body, taking in each scar in it's entirety. When he was settled back on the floor, she reached out her fingers and brushed over a distinct, jagged line on the left side of his torso.

Her brows furrowed together as she looked up at him, but before she could say anything, he answered her with no hesitation.

"I was lightly stabbed," he rasped, taking in a deep breath with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Hmmm… right you were lightly stabbed.” She took another deep breath and shook her head. “Right, I’m going to need to clean up the area before I can begin to stitch this up. Again, this is going to hurt but I need to do it. I don’t want you getting an infection,” she said, grabbing the supplies and began to clean the mix of fresh and dried blood away. She felt Bucky’s leg tense under her hands as she cleaned the wound.

"I can't..." he winced as she pressed a little harder against the muscle to stop the bleeding.

"Sorry," she whispered, her eyes flicking up to his watching as the crease in his brows softened the moment they locked gazes.

Bucky shook his head as if to tell her it was okay, "I don't think I can get those," he admitted after a moment of quiet between them.

Wren furrowed her brows in confusion as she worked to thread the curved needle, "what's that?"

"infect--infections," he breathed out, shifting beneath her.

She let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Everyone can get an infection, Bucky," she whispered softly. She felt his hand rest on her waist once more, holding her steady as she moved to start stitching his leg.

"I'm not like everyone," he breathed, his head falling back against the wall again as gentle fingers dug into her skin as she pierced his skin with the needle.

Wren's head was spinning, she felt like she wasn't able to think clearly enough due to her lack of rest.

She tried focusing on being as gentle as possible. Methodically inserting the needle in and out of his skin before tying and cutting each stitch. His body was steady under her touch even as his breathing betrayed how much pain he was in and Wren fought against the distraction of just how strong and muscular his thigh felt under her hand, the muscles and skin flexing every time the needle pierced them, was a sight enough to make her lose her train of coherent thoughts for a few seconds before she thought it was better to keep him talking and conscious.

And maybe distract her body from reacting to being in such close proximity to a man who– even injured and bloody, was still insanely attractive.

It didn't help that with her shifts, Wren barely had time for herself these days. Swallowing slowly, she lifted her eyes briefly to his to find them already fixed on her causing her gaze to snap back to the stitch she was tying.

"W– why do you think you're not like everyone?"

She hesitantly asked.

"Know," he groaned as she tugged at the string, pulling it taught to cut it.

"Alright tough guy," Wren shook her head, dropping the bloody scissors to the floor and reaching for gauze to clean it. "Why do you know you're not like everyone else?"

She pressed the gauze to his naked thigh and sopped up the pooling blood that was left behind.

Wren watched, flickering her eyes from his thigh to his face. Tensing slightly as he rose his left hand to his mouth. He bit down on the black leather glove he wore and pulled roughly on the fabric until it slid off his hand.

The metal glinted in the dim light of her apartment as he flexed his fingers.

"Is that?" She asked, feeling herself leaning closer despite her common sense telling her to lean away. The arm, the attitude, the wounds, and secrecy... Wren had her suspicions before but everything seemed to click in place like the smooth plates of his artificial arm. The Winter Solider was sitting in her living room.

"Titanium-" he choked out with a nod, darkness casting over his eyes. He pulled back from her touch, clearly making his own assumptions about her as she hesitated to respond.

"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered, not knowing if that's what he needed to hear but hoping that it would quell the fear gripping him. "You won't hurt me," she said, sure of it right down to her toes.

"If you think that, then you're crazier than I am," he nearly growled, the rumble of his voice raising goosebumps on Wren's arm.

"Eh, maybe," she remarked casually, swapping out the gauze again as the blood started to clot around the wound, sticking to the thin fabric. "But I did drag a bleeding, filthy giant into my apartment in the middle of the night all alone, so maybe I'm not sane either."

Bucky's mouth quirked and his eyebrow raised as he nodded slightly, an expression on his handsome face that said she had a good point.

"So," Wren murmured softly, sitting back on her heels and pulling off her gloves. "What should I call you then?"

“The Winter Soldier,” he choked out, shifting his weight to move slightly away from Wren.

The soft look of confusion on his face was barely noticeable, just the furrowing of his eyebrows as the icy blue searched the air around him for an answer.

"You said your name was Bucky earlier,” Wren asked softly, swiping her tongue along her bottom lip as she watched him carefully, “who’s Bucky?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head, taking in a small breath, “me, I think or someone I used to be, it’s - it’s a little fuzzy,” he confessed quietly.

Wren smiled softly, tilting her head to the side as she examined him. “Alright well, let’s get you cleaned up a bit if you’re ready. Or we can rest, but no falling asleep still, we can talk more after if you’re up for it” she said sternly.

Bucky’s head had been dropping, but he jerked it up at her words. “M’not sleeping,” he protested lowly and tried to push himself up into a better-seated position. He grimaced and groaned in pain as his abdomen clenched, holding himself up with his metal arm.

“Bucky, seriously, we can wait,” Wren tried, but Bucky grunted and bent his good leg under him, preparing to stand. “Jesus, at least wait for me,” Wren muttered and carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders, heaving him up onto his feet as she pressed onto hers, both of them stumbling a few steps, Bucky hissing in pain as they bumped the wall.

"Bucky, you gotta let me help you. It's kind of my job?"

"Call me stubborn," he grunted as he limped down the hallway. "I'm fine."

She had a feeling he said that a lot.

"You're not fine, you're stubborn, and you've got a shit sense of direction, because the bathroom is the other way."

He stopped, leaning against the wall as he let out something in between a helpless whine and a laugh. She heard a muttered curse under his breath as he pushed his hair out of his face. He looked so tired, like he'd been awake for days on end. There were dark circles underneath his beautiful eyes, and his lips were cracked. He was dehydrated, not taking care of himself. She wondered when he last ate. Wren faced him, and placed a hand on his chest, avoiding the wounds. She could feel his heart pounding.

"You said nobody's taken care of you before," she whispered, staring up into those beautiful ocean blue eyes. "Let me. All you have to do is say yes. I'm not here to hurt you."

He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling back a little. For a second, she thought he might pass out, but instead, he glanced back down at her and gave her a small nod.

"Yeah, okay."

"Okay." She slipped beside him, her hand around his narrow waist. She could feel his muscles rippling beneath her touch. "Then let's get you into the bath."

"M'keepin' the shorts on," he grumbled as he let her take the brunt of some of his weight. He was limping badly.

"You want to take a bath in your boxers?"

"I assume you're helping me," he grunted as they reached the bathroom and he pushed the door open. "My ma raised a gentleman."

She sighed. He really was stubborn, but at least he was cooperating somewhat.

"Okay. Shorts on. I'll run the bath."

Wren sat on the edge of her clawfoot tub and turned the faucet on. The water spilled onto the pure white porcelain, and the white noise of rushing water filled the room.

“Wow,” Bucky breathed as he leaned against the doorframe. “Your bathroom is huge.”

She chuckled. Bleeding from multiple points on his body and this is what he notices.

She had to admit, the bathroom was the best part of her apartment. And she was grateful it was her day off and she had cleaned around earlier- even though she’d probably be finding Bucky’s blood smeared around for the next few weeks.

She moved across the black and white honeycomb tile floor and reached her hand towards his. Bucky looked hesitant- but not worried- as he stared past her outstretched hand at the tub.

“We had one of these tubs in our place growing up,” he said, his voice above a whisper. The bathroom was slowly filling with steam and Wren was acutely aware of the tinge of nostalgia in his voice.

“I just-“ His voice broke as he continued to stare at the tub. “I just remembered that. Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a shaky step toward the tub.

“You want a hand with your shirt?” Wren asked, her hands outstretched towards Bucky as he swayed a little with each step.

The last thing she needed was a six-foot-something wall of muscle fainting on her bathroom floor.

Bucky shook his head, and Wren moved to crack a window, keeping an eye on him as he attempted to shrug off the remains of his henley.

He was struggling, but he still had walls up and she didn’t want to overstep by swooping in without him asking. There were a few more quiet moments until finally, he looked at her with pleading eyes.

“I— actually. My left shoulder feels a little stiff, I can’t— help?” He stammered softly.

With a soft smile, Wren moved swiftly to his side, tucking her fingers around the fabric, grazing his hot skin softly and freeing the fabric from where it was caught on the rugged metal that stuck into his skin. She wanted to examine it, and look for herself, but that was a boundary she wasn't expecting him to drop so easily around her.

The burgundy fabric fell in a pool on the tile floor between. It was hard for her not to look at the hunk of metal that resembled an arm hanging from his left shoulder. Her fingers trailed softly back up the titanium, feeling it shift and settle beneath her touch.

"I'm gonna sit in here with you, if that’s okay," Wren finally cleared her throat, shifting her gaze back up to him to find that he was watching her every move, "can't have you passing out under the water,"

“Hmm” he nodded with a slight smile on his face.

“Right, let's get you into this tub. Normally, I would advise against getting into a tub or shower and getting stitches wet so soon. But something tells me breaking those rules is what you need right now. Your mind needs to be taken care of as much as your body.” She said as she helped him step into the bathtub before turning off the water.

He grunted softly as she helped lower him down one hand wrapped around the expanse of his muscular back and the other holding onto the metal of his forearm. She knew the brave face he was putting on as another soft whimper slipped from his lips. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight at the sound and her body froze as he settled into the water.

"Is it hot enough?" She whispered.

Bucky groaned gently, rolling his head to the side to glance up at her through thick lashes. The bathroom light glittered off of the blue of his eyes and it did nothing for the swirl of butterflies in her stomach. "S'perfect." he slurred softly, a smile pulling on one corner of his mouth.

"Good," she whispered back before moving to turn from him, she felt his hand wrap around her wrist again and the water slosh behind her. Wren turned as the wild and scared look had returned, "just getting a washcloth," she reassured gently, resting her hand over his, "just over there." She nodded to the closet in the corner of the bathroom.

Wren looked down at him, the water lapping around his hardened stomach. It was the first time she could really see him. His olive skin was covered in fresh red gashes, old pale white scars, and freckles that danced over the hard ridges of his ribcage and pelvic bone beneath the surface. She forgot for a small moment that time was moving and she was staring at him.

She swallowed thickly, turning away briefly to retrieve what she needed from the closet. She inhaled slowly, gripping the doorknob a moment too long, and heard him lifting from the tub.

"I'm okay," she raised a hand to him. "Just tired."

It wasn't a lie she was just telling to cover up the quick spreading warmth that blanketed her or the butterflies that raged a war within her chest.

He held out his hand for the cloth as she walked over to him, "I can do it," he said quietly, palm up to her. "Wren," he said, his knuckle brushing against her bare stomach, "I'm sorry I made a mess."

She looked down to see the line he drew over her stomach in his damp blood not realizing she was covered in it.

“I…it's nothing I haven’t seen before,” she breathed, goosebumps blooming across her skin following the path of his touch.

His uninjured eyebrow twitched upwards and his head tilted a little. Wren felt as if he stared right through her, that he could see the way her heart almost beat out of her chest. She couldn’t do anything else but place the washcloth into his upturned palm. His fingers curled gently, enclosing her own in his grip along with the fabric.

"Thank you," he murmured, still holding her hand with the damp cloth. His thumb traced a circle on the back of her hand and she suppressed a shiver as, for just a second, his eyes flickered down to her mouth and back to her eyes. "For all of this."

Embarrassment flared up inside of Wren once more and burned deep in her belly, fed by an increasing desire for the man before her. It had been a while and working twelve hour shifts at the hospital hadn't helped her dating life. Bucky seemed kind enough, a little lost, and in desperate need of something, or someone, to hold onto and keep him anchored to this new reality he inhabited.

"Hurry and wash up, Sargeant," Wren swallowed before she continued. "Water's gonna get cold."

Bucky huffed and she watched as he started his ministrations, rivulets of soapy, pink tinged water running over the lines of muscle on his arm and chest. Bucky's eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of the water filled the room around both of them, the hair at the corner of his eyes starting to get wavy in the steam. For the first time since she'd opened her door, Wren thought Bucky looked at peace.

"Hey, uh...Birdie?"

Wren laughed out loud at that, meeting his bashful baby blue eyes.

"It's Wren, remember?" she said playfully. "But close enough. It'll come back to you. What do you need?"

"I, uh-" The super soldier looked down and ran a hand through the foamy water, water shining on the metal. "With the shoulder fucked up, I can't quite..."

He gestured to his back and Wren nodded quickly, realizing what he was reluctantly asking her for. The relief as she grabbed the washcloth from him was palpable. How many times had he asked for help and no one had come? The thought made Wren choke up again and she had to clear her throat, eyeing the size of the man before her and the tub.

"I think I'm going to have to, uh, get in. With you,' Wren said slowly. "It's just that you're, well, you and I'm kinda..."

For the first time, Bucky's smile met his eyes and a hint of the lines of his face showed and Wren had never seen anything so gorgeous before. He scooted forward, wincing at the water making contact with his wounds.

Wren started towards the tub then paused. “I’m gonna have to take these off…” she said, hands at her waistband. Bucky’s cheeks tinted pink, and he looked away, nodding his understanding. Wren looked at him a moment longer before quickly shedding her pajama pants, leaving her in her sports bra and underwear.

Not giving herself any time to hesitate, she stepped into the bath and sat down behind Bucky, legs around his waist, thighs braced tight against his firm torso.

Bucky was rigid in front of her, and Wren slowly touched his back, featherlight. He jumped, water sloshing.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t-“ Bucky said, but Wren cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to touch your shoulders now, is that okay?” she asked softly, and when he nodded, she gently placed her hands on them, feeling his body trembling.

He was a live wire, shaking muscles, hitched breath, and a pounding heart. She could almost hear it beating against his ribcage. He reminded her of an injured bird she found the first week she moved into this place. It was just as scared. Except, this time, Wren could actually communicate with the man in front of her.

Slowly, she began to wash his back, letting her hands cascade over thick ropes of muscle, more bruises, and cuts that she had missed. They were shallow enough that they didn't require any more treatment otherwise his whole upper body would have been one giant piece of gauze. Wren spotted soft constellations of freckles on his right shoulder that she couldn't help but trace with her fingertips.

She was gentle around his left one, making sure to avoid the raw area where flesh met metal. Bucky continued to tremble beneath her touch, taking big breaths as she worked to rinse everything off. His hair was matted at the back and her throat clenched. Whatever was happening to him inside his head, whatever hurt him, she wanted to rinse it down the drain with the bloodied bath water. Wren cleared her throat and reached for the shampoo.

"I'm going to wash your hair now, okay?"

Tears gathered in his eyes.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because I think it's been a long time since someone was kind to you. And whatever you say you've done, I think everyone deserves some kindness. And a second chance." She paused as another tear rolled down Bucky's cheek. "So, Bucky? Can I wash your hair?"

He nodded.

"That would be nice, thank you, ma'am."

She chuckled as she began to squeeze some shampoo onto her palm.

"It's Wren, remember?"

"Right," he breathed. "That's a pretty name."

"It was my grandmother's. She was a nurse, too."

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, something akin to recognition flickering across his face. It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced with a soft smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and Wren only hoped it was something she would see more of as the night wore on.

“Tilt your head back for me,” she murmured, “I’ll be gentle. If you want me to stop, just say.”

Bucky hummed in response and Wren took that as her cue to go ahead. Fingers weaving through his thick locks, she lathered up the shampoo, the fresh floral scent filling the steamy air around them.

As she continued scrubbing delicately at his scalp, Bucky’s shoulders dropped, tension oozing out of him. Wren noticed his breathing evening out and his eyes fluttered closed as she worked the blood and grime from his hair.

“You better not be falling asleep on me, big guy,” she chuckled.

“M’not,” he slurred, “just feels good.”

Wren smiled softly, “my grandmother used to wash my hair like this when I was little,” she started unsure why she felt the need to tell him this but he hummed in response and tilted his head just slightly as if asking her to continue, “the home I grew up in was chaotic and she knew that.”

Her voice cracked gently and she could feel the tears on the corners of her eyes again start to form, “so when she’d visit she would wash my hair like this and it would help, for a little while at least I got to have some quiet.”

Bucky had fully turned his head this time, piercing yet soft eyes watched her as she forced a smile and reached up to brush away a few suds from his forehead.

“She sounds like a great gal,” he whispered before running his tongue over his bottom lip. Wren nodded as she sucked in a breath forcing down the emotions bubbling in and returning her focus to him.

“She was.” She whispered back before running her nails through his hair once more, carefully working through the tangles.

She rang out water over his hair, doing her best to keep the shampoo from getting in his eyes as she rinsed it out. The two of them barely fit in the tub together, he was reclined as much as his sore body and the space would allow him. His metal hand wrapped hesitantly around her ankle, his thumb rubbing in methodical circles that she realized were him counting his own slow inhales.

"Bucky," she whispered, fingers still tangled at the nape of his neck as she made sure to get all the soap. "Are you okay? You got kinda quiet, am I hurting you?"

He huffed out, "No," he said without hesitation. "I just..." she could feel his body tense under her touch, "my memory makes it hard to remember who I was, and sometimes words trigger this hollow, rotten feeling in my chest that I don't understand."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pausing her hands for a moment as he worked through the emotions he was struggling with.

"I don't remember my Ma anymore," he whispered, his voice cracking. "The feeling is there when you mentioned your Grandma... it-" his shoulders rolled back against her chest and he pulled away from her a touch. "I know she's there, tangled somewhere in the mess of my memory and when she's there, just out of reach all I feel is guilt. Like somehow my memories know she would hate who I am now..."

Wren nearly sobbed out, a cry forcing its way up her throat as she reached out for him and wrapped her hand around his chest, pressing her palm to his racing heart.

Her breath hitched as she felt his large palm eclipse her hand and his fingers lace with hers. Bucky let out a breath and his shoulders drooped, his head hanging even lower than before.

Without another thought Wren’s other arm wound its way around his waist, her hand running over the hills and valleys of his abdomen. She tightened her grip, giving him the comfort of deep pressure, resting her forehead against his broad shoulder. She didn’t even realize what she’d done until she heard his breath catch at the feel of her lips brushing against his skin.

For the briefest moment, Wren just held him there, tepid water swirling around them both. A small shiver racked Bucky's body and she was worried he would pull away. She was pretty much a stranger to this uniquely beautiful man. How could he possibly feel the same frissons of need that coursed through her body? Despite her doubts, when Bucky leaned back into her touch instead, it was like connecting a current. There was danger of being grievously wounded by the shock, but sometimes a jolt is what a person needed to get their life going again. After another shiver, Wren spoke up.

"Let's get dry and maybe we can warm you up," she murmured against his skin, standing on shaky legs. Stumbling, Wren stepped out of the tub and felt cool metal on the back of her thigh.

"Sorry," Bucky said as he pulled his hand away, a dusty rose color on his cheeks and lips. "Just looked like you were fallin'."

Wren passed him a towel without commenting on how true that comment actually was.

The room was filled with steam as Bucky stood, swirling it around his massive frame as water dropped onto the tile beneath him. Quickly, Wren whipped around to give the man some privacy, but not before catching sight of the black fabric of his boxers clinging to his hips and strong thighs. Muttering under her breath something about staying strong, she quickly walked from the bathroom in search of clothes for the super soldier.

She went to her closet, searching through her clothes but coming up empty on anything that would fit such broad shoulders and thick thighs. She flushed when she realized she was lingering on those thighs in her mind, turning around and jumping at the sight of Bucky slumped in the doorway.

“Hey Birdie, think y’could help? Further’n I thought,” Bucky panted, and Wren raced to his side, wrapping her arm around his middle gently and getting him down on her bed.

It wasn’t until he was sitting that she noticed the towel around his shoulders and not around his waist- leaving his black boxers tight around his thighs and- Wren looked away flushing bright red as she stood up straight, Bucky collapsed on his back, arm over his eyes.

"Fuck," he groaned. "I gotta work out more. Barely made it in here."

She stared at him, his legs parted, splayed out on her bed. He was getting the blankets wet, but she didn't really care. Her eyes traced thick muscle and stitches, and then Bucky lifted his head, a grin on his face.

"That was a joke," She laughed, half out of awkwardness and half out of sheer terror. Bucky blushed. "Sorry, it wasn't a very good one."

"No, it was. I was just... We need to get you warm after I dress your wounds."

She turned back to the closet and started to rifle through it. There had to be a pair of sweatpants here from an ex-boyfriend... hell, even leggings. He'd look good in leggings.

"Hey, Birdie?" He whispered, his voice so soft that it made sparks rush down her spine. The words sounded caught in his throat, and when she turned around, she saw him hunched over. His chest was hollowed out like he was ashamed to be seen like this. He looked up at her. "Thanks for... taking pity on me. You didn't have to do that."

Wren padded toward him, sitting down next to him on the bed. A strand of dark hair fell into his face and Wren brushed it away. Bucky instinctively reached for her wrist with his metal hand, but stopped just short of touching her. He had tears in his eyes again, like he was terrified to touch her with that hand. She decided to take the initiative and gently linked her fingers with his metal ones. His breath caught in his chest and he let out a soft whimper as she gently squeezed his hand, encouraging him to squeeze back.

She wanted to show him something gentle, that he could be gentle. Because he was. How could he not be with those big blue eyes and that quivering bottom lip?

"Bucky, whatever happened to you, whatever they did to you... you don't deserve it. And it's not pity, you deserve to be treated like a human being."

"Birdie, you're gonna have to stop being so sweet to me," he said through tears as he gently shifted his grip and kissed her knuckle. Her cheeks flamed as he stared at her, eyes glistening with thick tears that threatened to fall at any moment. "Thank you."

"Let's get those wounds dressed and we'll worry about finding you some sweats in a bit."

Wren reached under the bed, pulling out her spare first aid kit, not wanting to leave Bucky again even if he was now laid out on her bed, blissful and relaxed despite watching her every move.

“You got first aid kits hidden like Easter eggs,” Bucky observed jovially.

“Good thing too, huh.”

Wren worked quietly, unravelling dressings and medical tape until she had enough for Bucky’s wounds.

“Gonna start with your thigh.”

Wren swallowed thickly, eyeing the thick muscles that tensed as Bucky manoeuvred to give her better access.

His skin was warm from the bath, soft under her fingertips as she began to cover the clean wound. Grazing the hem of his boxers, she felt him shift, and suddenly his gaze on her felt burning.

“Sorry,” she whispered, daring to glance up. Bucky’s head was tilted as if he was contemplating his response.

“S’alright, Birdie. Just been a while since I’ve been touched so delicately… and by someone so pretty.”

Wren's breath caught in her throat at his words, and she swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the heat creeping up her neck as she tried to focus on the task at hand. The incredible gorgeous man laying before her was injured and scared and broken, and yet the chemistry between them was undeniable.

Her fingers brushed his soft skin as she worked to wrap the gash on his thigh, pausing for a moment and pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. Slowly, she slid down onto her knees and moved in front of him to get a better angle of his thigh, not saying a word and trying her best not to bring attention to the position she had put herself in.

"Bucky can I - can I ask you a question?" She asked quietly, pointing the conversation in a different direction.

He hummed in response, and glanced down at her, eyes widening slightly as he cleared his throat, "Ye-yeah, of course" he rasped.

She sucked in a sharp breath and tied off the bandage, finishing off his thigh before sitting back, "How... did you know where I lived?"

Bucky licked his bottom lip, his jaw tensing at her question.

"A couple of weeks ago, the night I came in with my hand busted open," he looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers.

Wren remembered that night well, it was chaos. Two rival gangs had gone at each other in the middle of the night. There were bodies everywhere, bleeding and screaming while being hauled off by cops and handcuffed to beds. Wren had been in charge of the ER that night when Bucky had shown up for the first time, trapping her in her supply closet with his massive frame.

She remembered being so scared before the adrenaline filled her body and he shoved his hand gently into hers, silently asking for her to wrap it. He had disappeared just as quickly as he had shown up, leaving her rattled and confused.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered, reaching out to brush his finger against her face. He pushed a piece of fallen hair behind her ear, his touch lingering as she looked over at him. "As I was leaving I heard them, the high thugs harassing you in the hallway, I waited until they left and..."

"They ended up in the morgue," her brows kissed in frustration.

"It wasn't me," he stared at her with his big, sad blue eyes. "It was...but," he sighed. "I followed you home that night to make sure you were safe."

“Bucky…” Wren breathed, biting her lip at his earnest expression as she brushed another strand of hair behind his ear. “You didn’t need to-”

“No, I did,” Bucky said, barely audible over the pounding of Wren’s heart. “The way they talked to you…I had spent most of my entire adult life being held prisoner, made to do horrible things for horrible people.”

His fingers crept into her palm, tracing the lines of her hand and up to the vein of her wrist. His gaze was absent but aware, so aware that his eyes flickered up at the nearly indiscernible whimper that fell from Wren’s lips. She should have been kicking herself, embarrassed, but everything was too warm and too close for any other thoughts besides Bucky.

“But you, you were one of the few nice things about coming to this place,” he continued softly, tongue tracing a line along his rosy bottom lip. “I didn’t even care that the Soldat came out if it meant you were safe.”

Blinking away tears, Wren closed the space between them, gently placing her forehead against his. This was crazy, they were crazy, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Is that what you call…him? Soldat?” Her tongue felt strange running over the foreign word.

“That’s what I remember being called, so that’s who I am.”

She shook her head rapidly and a soft sob slipped out. All that medical training, hours of night shifts in the ER, and class after class on the human body and how to heal it had never prepared her for the day James Barnes showed up on her doorstep. He was bleeding from a wound that had no entry or exit, no visible damage done, and she wanted to be his bandage.

“I don’t believe that, Bucky,” Wren murmured, bringing his titanium fist to her lips. “You are much more than just the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky flinched at the name, fear and darkness fluttering across his face before she continued, her soft skin pressed to the cool metal.

“I learned about you in school, you know, James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th Howling Commandos. The only one to fall in service. You are strong, you are brave, and you are broken, but not beyond repair. Let me.”

Her nose brushed against his as she shifted her body closer to him, a hand coming to the edge of the towel on his knee. The warmth of his breath flowed over her lips and into her own lungs and she couldn’t get enough, the ache in her chest too much to bear.

“Please,” Bucky whispered and crashed his lips to hers, tangling a hand in her damp ponytail as she gasped against his mouth.

His tongue slid against her lower lip just before darting inside her mouth. It swept along the roof of her mouth, gliding along her tongue and tasting her as his hand in her hair pulled until she was angled just where he wanted her.

Wren whimpered as she settled into place, his hand supporting her neck, hair still twisted in his fingers, little pinpricks of pain she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

Her hands were sliding up his thighs, until they were hitting the edge of his boxers. She paused, waiting until he nodded into the kiss before she kept moving, reaching a hand into the waistband.

"Is this okay?" She whispered against his mouth.

"Yes," he groaned. "God, yes."

The words were a relief, and she kept her touch gentle as she wrapped her hand around his cock. Bucky whimpered against her lips, his body trembling at the contact. It was like it was too much, and he puled back from the kiss for a moment, his eyes wide. She could see a thin ring of blue that was nearly swallowed up by jet black pupils. Wren went to move her hand. Maybe it was too much, but Bucky gently grasped her wrist as a smile eclipsed her face.

"Please, Birdie," he whispered, his lips pressing against her forehead. "It's been so goddamn long. And you're so fucking soft."

He squeezed a little tighter around her wrist, guiding her hand to pump his cock the way he liked it. All she had to do was follow his lead.

"Just like this," he rumbled before adding a soft, "Please?"

That low, raspy voice made her whimper, but she let him guide her hand. She could feel him throbbing in her hand, precum already leaking down her knuckles. His hips rolled forward and he let out a whine, his lips still pressed against her forehead. She could feel the desperation in him, gathering like a storm.

"Tell me you need me," he groaned.

She pulled back, gazing at him. Those darkened eyes, bright pink cheeks, and plump bitten-red lips that he was worrying between his teeth, licking nervously as he tried to control his breath. It had been a long time since a man made her feel like this.

"I need you, Bucky."

Bucky reached up with both hands, grasping the sides of her face and pulling her in for another desperate kiss. He captured her top lip first, nearly devouring her with a renewed vigor. Wren stroked him slowly, whimpering against him as Bucky let out gentle moans and whines.

She continued pumping his cock in her fist while their mouths stayed connected. There was a certain sense of desperation present- like she wasn’t far off from the truth when she said she needed him.

Bucky whimpered as Wren adjusted her body and let go of his weeping cock. His hips bucked up at the sudden absence. She giggled slightly and looked down at their bodies.

“We’re still in our wet stuff,” she whispered, glancing up at him through her lashes. “We should fix that.”

Bucky couldn’t nod his head quick enough as she reached down and peeled her wet socks off. She must have been really distracted to have gotten in the tub with those on.

Wren stood up, now only in her panties and her sports bra. The giant, wounded man in front of her slowly started to stroke his own cock as his eyes ran over her figure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes focused on the growing wet spot at her core. He continued to lazily fist his cock.

“You are too,” she said with a small smile. His cheeks were flush with color as a moan escaped his lips. She noticed him start to pump faster at her words.

“You’re so beautiful, Bucky,” she repeated, her voice low and sultry.

She shimmed slowly from her panties, dropping them to the floor and stepping out of them. Bucky following suit, he pushed the wet boxers down over his thighs and wiggled from them as he watched her with hungry eyes.

He dropped his hand from around himself in exchange for a tight grip on her hips. The bed creaked under the weight as she climbed back over his thick thighs and carefully settled against his hips.

He groaned, his face scrunching up in pain, she pushed herself up trying to remove her weight from his bad leg but his hands pushed her back down. "Stay," he groaned.

The word dripped from him and the damn of control that Wren had built inside of herself split in two.

She gripped Bucky's hair, pulling him in for a kiss that made her toes curl. Broad hands splayed out across her back as Bucky moved his lips against hers, slowly caressing every freckle and stretch mark with a gentle touch. His tongue teased hers as the metal of his fingertips caused her to shiver.

“Sorry, baby,” he breathed against her lips with a soft chuckle. “I don’t have to-”

She placed her hand on his metallic one and kept it trapped against her soft skin, a stern look on her flushed face.

“Bucky, if you don’t put your hands on me, and I mean both your hands, I might actually cry.”

That earned her a raspy chuckle before Bucky cleared his throat, his face going soft once again.

“It’s done a lotta bad things. You aren’t gonna be one of them.”

Swallowing down a lump, Wren brought the vibranium to her lips. She kissed each fingertip while holding Bucky’s gaze, even after the steel blue eyes fluttered shut as she sucked lightly on his thumb. Releasing it with a soft popping sound, Wren didn’t even know if he could feel it, but the throbbing between her legs and his meant it had worked.

“How about you make it do something good instead?”

Wren rocked her hips softly, feeling the heat rise between them as the tip of his cock grazed her soft dark curls.

“Something that you want to do.”

“Jesus Birdie, I wanna touch you,” Bucky whined, biting his lower lip and looking up at her through thick lashes. Wren swallowed as her pussy clenched emptily, needing him in her.

“So do it,” she ordered and Bucky groaned, sliding his metal hand between them and pressing two long fingers into her soaked cunt.

“God yes,” Wren moaned, fingers tightening in his hair until he was pressing into a desperate kiss.

She rocked her hips, taking his fingers as deep as she could as she kissed him with everything that she had. She’d needed this more than she thought. And he was perfect. Bucky’s right hand held her waist while he let her use his fingers, curling them slightly to force a moan to spill from her throat. He giggled and she pulled back, letting out a whine before she could even say a damn word.

“You sound so pretty singing for me like this, Birdie.”

His metal thumb began to circle her clit and the way he looked at her made every hair on the back of her neck stand up. There was so much warmth in his eyes, like he was surprised at his own gentleness, that he could make someone feel this good. She smiled at him and he smiled back, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip and fucking her a little faster with his fingers. When he hit that spot, Wren’s breath hitched and she collapsed, her mouth finding his once more as she let out a deep and high-pitched whine. Bucky giggled against her lips, breaking the kiss to ghost his lips along her jaw and bite down gently on her earlobe.

“That's my girl.” His voice was deep, husky, and a little demanding. “I can feel you squeezing me. Don’t you dare stop, sweet thing.”

“What about you?” She moaned, rolling her hips faster as her thighs began to shake.

If this is what his fingers felt like, she didn’t know if she was ready for all of him. But she wanted to me.

“I can wait. I’m enjoying this too much,” Bucky whispered. “And I wanna hear all the pretty sounds you can make.”

He curved his fingers up and continued to work at her clit with his thumb. The metal was still cool and somehow soothed her scorching skin. Bucky nibbled on her ear, his hot breath fanning her skin as he grunted softly with effort. She could die here.

“Fuck- I need you, Bucky.”

The words fell from her lips like a prayer as Wren felt herself once again catapulted toward the abyss. Her body was racked with sobs, back arched, as she rode his fingers into fucking oblivion. Her vision was spotty.

She felt his hips bucking up, his rock hard cock weeping at the brief contact with her core. She continued to tumble over the edge, riding out her high as Bucky slipped his fingers out of her. Her walls clenched at the sudden absence.

Bucky pulled her face close and kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth. “Birdie- fuck, I can’t believe-“ His voice broke as he continued to pepper her lip and cheeks with kisses.

Her eyes fluttered as she felt hot liquid against her cheeks. She pulled herself away and glanced at his face- his pupils were totally blown out, but his eyes were overflowing with tears.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice cracking. He kissed her once more- softly, with less desperation. Slowly, with certainty.

Wren felt her own eyes pool up at the sight of this man beneath her- beautiful, wounded, carved out of marble. Hand coated in her slick. Crying and thanking her.

"I should be thanking you," She kissed his cheek, tasting the salt. "My guardian," she kissed his other cheek, erasing any signs of her weeping angels tears as she praised him. "Ever watchful," she nibbled at his jaw, feeling his body relax against her touch he sunk deeper into the pillows. "Protecting me," she ran her mouth over his neck, taking her time to admire every curve with her tongue and teeth.

"Wren," he huffed, "I'm not a guardian, I'm a monster." He growled, but there was a shaky uncertainty to his voice as his hands moving until they were wrapped around her body, raking over her as she explored his body.

His wounds were healing before her exhausted eyes, "you're a miracle," she breathed out, kissing the shallow gash over his peck, grazing his nipple with her tongue as her hands skating down over his ribs. He pushed himself up against her, teasing her with pressure and tearing a soft moan from her busy lips.

Bucky's hands gripped her hips as she tried to sink lower, trying to get her teeth into what she really wanted.

"I want you to come first," he whispered, lifting her like she weighed nothing he wrapped his bad arm around her waist, hot skin pressed to her back and flipped her into the mattress. A soft hiss, followed by a strangled bloody sound tore from his throat.

Panic flooded her, her eyes growing wide as they flickered over her body trying to find the source of his pain, "are you okay?" She nearly sobbed, unable to forgive herself if she had hurt him.

"I've never been more okay, baby," he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck as the cool metal of his left hand pressed her hip into the mattress with enough weight to make her moan, knowing he would paint her skin with his fingertips.

“If you’re hurt, Bucky,” she said breathlessly, grabbing his face in her hands so she could meet his eyes. “We can stop. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky kissed the tip of her nose, his forehead pressed against hers gently. He then sighed, giving her a beaming smile that actually showed every bit of the man he might have been before. The sight gave Wren a rush like she had never experienced.

“And neither am I, Birdie. Just maybe I gotta be a little more gentle with you.”

Wrapping his hand around one of her thighs, Bucky brought her leg up to his side and started to rock his hips. Slick started to coat Wren’s thighs as he moved, slowly working her up enough that she was whimpering and moaning against his neck.

When he rested his weight on his forearms, pressing gentle kisses on her bitten lips, red caught Wren’s eye. Blood was starting to stain the gauze and she knew he had ripped something open. But the way his lips felt as he kissed her temple, the weight of his hips on hers, it was all too perfect for her to even care. She just wanted to make him whole again.

“What do you need?” Wren asked, voice cracking as her own need grew.

Bucky paused in his movements, and a whine caught in Wren’s throat, coming out as a moan when Bucky positioned his dick against her entrance.

“Right now, I need your yes, baby,” he said, pulling back just enough so that their eyes could meet.

His blue ones were stormy, blown out with a mix of lust and a bit of pain, but he grinned at her, and she leaned up pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Yes Bucky, please yes,” she murmured, their tongues pressing together as Bucky reached down with his flesh hand and guided himself into her.

Her mouth dropped open and her back arched as she took all of him. Wren heard her own whimper fill the room and her eyes slammed shut as that familiar, yet sweet sting consumed her for a moment. Tears rushed down her temples listening to the sound of his gentle, gravelly moan.

And then, she felt his lips on her eyelids, her forehead, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose as he slowed down, waiting for her body to adjust to him and catch up. His body trembled above hers, pulsing with desperation. She could sense it, it was in the way he breathed, the way he tried to swallow whimper after whimper. But still, he slowed down. There wasn’t a selfish bone in this man’s body. It was like he knew exactly how to make her feel comfortable.

“Just breathe,” he whispered. “I’m right here, Birdie. You say stop and we stop.”

She laughed, her eyes opening as they glistened with tears. Bucky stared at her as a big, relieved smile eclipsed his face.

“There you are.” He kissed her softly. “Missed you.”

More tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. How many people had walked away from this man that the very sight of someone closing their eyes in front of him felt like leaving?

“I’m right here,” she reassured him.

“I know. I just want those beautiful eyes on me when you come.”

Wren wrapped her legs around his waist and slowly began to guide him a little deeper. Bucky’s mouth dropped and his eyes closed. She reached up, letting her knuckles glide along his cheekbones.

“Ditto, handsome.”

He laughed and his head dipped, pressing against hers as they began to move in tandem. Wren listened to the gentle sound of his moans and the deep breaths he took as he let himself melt into her. Wren gently ran her fingertips down his left arm, feeling the plates in the metal shift every time he rolled his hips forward.

"Not leaving," she whispered through a broken moan with the hope that it would bring him some more comfort.

She had absolutely no idea it would kickstart something in the depths of his loins. He growled against her ear, nipping lightly at her lobe. The pace he set was grueling as he thrusted into her. She knew he was in pain but they both needed this.

For a split second, she realized they’d probably split more of the butterfly bandages she had placed. Then a second later, her eyes were rolling back in her head as Bucky reached down between them with his metal hand and slowly started working her clit.

“You’re not leaving,” he repeated, almost as if he was reassuring himself that he’d really heard it. Committing it to memory.

Bucky rolled the pad of his index finger on her swollen clit as she tumbled over the edge once more. Her vision was bright white, his thrusts grew sloppy. Wren cried out, biting her lip.

They locked eyes and Bucky’s hips stuttered as he spilled into her. She felt his cock twitch and she dug her heels into his glutes, pushing him further into her.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, hip still pushing up against hers. “I’m still coming.”

Wren bucked her hips up and pulled his face close to her. She captured his lips with hers and their teeth clicked. She swallowed his moan as his hips finally slowed, and eventually stilled.

Finally Bucky leaned his forehead against hers and lightly kissed the tip of her nose. She felt his elbows start to buckle and she quickly nudged her way out from under him. His cock had softened and he flopped onto his back, groaning in pain.

“Lie back, baby,” she cooed, kneeling on the bed. She fluffed the pillows up behind him as he sunk into the mattress, wincing slightly as his body relaxed.

Bucky’s eyes were on her as she scanned his body, taking inventory of bandages she’d need to replace. He reached out and put his hand on her waist, pulling her towards him. He had a lazy grin on his face as his eyes drooped slightly.

“I’ll be fine, Birdie. Come be with me.”

It hit her suddenly. She *was* exhausted. It only took her home turning into an emergency room. And like four mind-blowing orgasms.

Wren quickly turned the bedside light off and nuzzled into the pillows next to him. As she pulled the comforter lightly over their bodies, she already felt his the pace of his breaths change as he slipped into slumber.

The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the softest, sweetest smile on Bucky’s face as he slept comfortably.

Sunbeams glittered through the window as the morning slipped in. Wren's eyes flitted open feeling a weight wrapped around her torso. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept the whole night so when the sun hit her eyes a feeling of warmth spread through her. She could have easily blamed it on the exhaustion that still wracked her body but as she shifted to look over her shoulder, her eyes met dark chestnut locks and a face so soft that she wanted to cry.

He looked.. at peace. The terror that adorned his features from the night before had been washed away. She smiled softly at the way he looked. Her stomach wrenched at the idea that this had been the longest night's sleep he would have in a while.

Wren wanted to keep him like this, soft and warm--safe. She knew it would be hard and something told her that even if she offered it to him, something was ingrained in him to believe he wasn't deserving of safety.

She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly removing herself from under his arm. Careful to not wake him as she crawled from the bed. She watched as he stirred hoping that he wouldn't wake up. He settled himself back into the sheets, curling his large frame against her mattress and tucking her pillow under her arm replacing her warmth completely making himself comfortable again.

Another smile graced her lips as she moved to find clothes easily accessible that digging through her old wooden dresser wouldn't wake him. Finding a sweatshirt and leggings she slipped into them remembering that his clothes were cut and strewn about her house, Wren glanced back over to him. He needed clothes and probably food. She was worried that if she asked him when the last time he ate was he'd tell he he wasn't sure.

Wren made the decision to leave this giant man sleeping in her bed before heading out the front door and making her way down to the market. She knew she wasn't going to be able to find much in the wear of clothes for him, but she could atleast find something.

After making her way through the market finding something for him to wear and something for him to eat, she headed back to her apartment. Creeping her way in incase he was still sleeping.

"Birdie?" She heard him rasp from her bedroom door as she set the bags down onto the couch.

A soft smile spread across her face, "It's me Bucky," she made her way towards the room, his frame taking up the entirety of the door. Her smile fell when she saw the worried look that crept on his features.

"You left," he whispered softly, "When I woke you weren't there."

She swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions that were quickly piling up as the man practically shattered in front of her, "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I should have left you a note, I went to the market for food.."

He nodded, his warm hand wrapped around her waist, tucking it under the hem of her sweatshirt as of needing to feel her skin and confirm she was real.

Wren pushed herself up onto her tippy toes, leaning into him as she pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I'm not leaving you Bucky," her voice was soft and she cupped his face in her hands to catch his gaze, "I am sorry I made you think I was."

A moment of silence passed between them, his blue eyes scanned her features and soon he dipped his head pressing his lips to hers in the softest kiss she'd ever felt. It wasn't the desperate needy kiss she got from him last night it was warm and soft.

She pulled back slightly letting him tuck his head into the crook of her neck, "C'mon big guy," she whispered, "let's get you some food."

Wren tugged on his hand, careful not to hurt him as she lead him over to the couch. She grabbed the bags she brought in, holding one of them out to him. "Clothes," she said softly. "There's jeans, a sweatshirt... and I uh.." nerves began to seep into her bones as his brows furrowed, "I bought extras, for you to keep here if you ever.."

Bucky took a step forward and pushed the bag from between them as he cupped her face kissing her once again.

When he pulled back the furrow in his brow was gone and replaced by a smile that almost reached his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered against her lips.

"You're welcome." she whispered back before holding the bag to him again, nervous that she'd gone too far until he peppered her face with kisses sending her into a fit of giggles.

Bucky took the bag and began going through the clothes, pulling out the ones he wanted to wear as she made her way to the kitchen with another bag. Wren pulled out the bag of fresh plums she bought. They were her favorite and she only ever bought the ones from this market because they were always the sweetest.

She washed them and began slicing one up, until she felt strong arms wrap around her waist from behind her. Wren tilted her head back against his chest with a smile, picking up one of the slices of plum and held it out for him.

"These were my favorite," he said softly, eyes flicking to hers before he leaned forward, taking a bite of one. His eyes slid closed as a satisfied hum left him.

"Good?" She asked and his eyes shot open as he nodded.

"So good," he smiled leaning in to press another kiss against her lips and she could taste the plum juice that lingered on his lips, "thank you." he murmured against her.

They stood like this for awhile, taking turns feeding each other slices of plum as he held her in the kitchen. The pain and terror had escaped him and she was seeing a different warmer side to Bucky. The cuts and scrapes on his face had almost completed healed and the butterfly bandages on his hairline were a mere precaution to the now fading scar.

"I don't want you to go," she admitted as he spun her around, his frame pressing her against the kitchen counter, "will you come back?"

Bucky chuckled softly, running his fingers along the edges of her face pushing back tendrils of hair behind her ears, "I'll always come back to you," he rasped and for the first time in a long time Wren didn't second guess a promise that was made to her.

"and I'll always let you in." She replied softly.

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promiscuouspomegranate · 7 months

Text

The Fish Cries Too

Reader x Ezra

TWs: Reader suffers from severe depression, bullying, suicide attempt, vomiting, mutual obsession(ish), forced kissing, kidnapping (?), and angst. THIS IS DARK !!!

(… democracy asked for a new male character and damn.. he’s definitely a character!! This got a little rushed toward the end and I’m sorry 💔)

I dipped my red Converse in the murky, muddy pond as my hollow eyes examined the playful, pink petals of the waterlilies. Baggy black denim jeans stuck to my skin as I sloshed through cattails and schools of brown-gold carp. The water rose to my midriff, and melancholic moonlight guided me to a floating cardboard box. Trembling hands seized the package and carried it above the water. I vaguely remember setting it down on the grass before my body failed me–slipping to a dreamless slumber in the woods.

The song of the mourning dove and the sunlight poking above the treetops caused my eyes to open. I weakly reached my hand out to the cardboard box and softly smiled. What mattered was that Dad’s present was safe; I didn’t care about anything else. I rubbed my head and stirred to my feet–a migraine formed, and I felt sick.

I ambled across uneven ground covered in flat rocks, smashed cans of beer, and dogwood branches. I stepped across the small creek and tripped up the dirt mound. Thorns stabbed my skin, and I bit the inside of my cheek. I jerked away and muttered curses, grabbing the cardboard box. I saw the outline of my home enlarging until I was at the broken wooden fence.

I balanced the box above my head and was careful not to step on rusted nails. My head throbbed as I opened the sliding glass door, waking up my little brother–who insisted on sleeping on the couch in the basement. His curly hair shot up from his train pillowcase, and his wide eyes locked with mine.

“Did it happen again,” His gentle voice yawned and then questioned, “Why do they–”

“It’s a silly prank. It’s what friends do to each other,” I smiled as he approached me, holding his fuzzy teddy bear, “They’re only joking, don’t worry.”

“Charlie doesn’t play with me like that,” He hugged my leg, “Why are they meanies?”

“You’ll laugh at it when you’re older,” I patted his head, “When you’re my age, everyone is mean.”

I guided him back to the red couch and tucked him back in. I waited for him to fall asleep before I went upstairs. I set the damp box on the kitchen counter and taped Dad’s birthday card. He wanted a new fishing rod for his birthday to take on his boat; I found a used one and refurbished it.

I muttered as I wandered down the hallway and opened my bedroom door. I saw my chipped phone screen glowing and hesitated to grab it. I felt something hot burn my throat and scrolled through seemingly endless notifications from the latest hate group chat. Highlights consisted of Ezra calling me ‘Fisheyes’–a nickname that used to be endearing–and videos of my friend Lenore protecting my battered, unconscious body from getting injured any further.

I replayed the video a few times, carefully examining the change in Ezra’s behavior when the fight was broken up. If I hadn’t known him, I would’ve assumed he was a bystander. How fortunate I was that nobody knew Ezra the way Lenore and I did.

I blocked the numbers and turned off my phone. I rested my head on a pillow and stared at the upholstered headboard. I traced my hands along the design and thought about the pond. Memories of playing with Ezra in the water and grabbing fish flooded my mind. I was far too weak to suppress the memories of childhood friendship, and the ringing in my ear reminded me of the Sunday church bell.

“We used to draw together in first grade; in second grade, we played house,” I muttered and felt tears trickle down my cheek, “Now, you wish I were dead.”

A thousand thoughts of suicide entered my mind, but only one remained. I thought it would be rather poetic to drown myself in the pond I spent most of my life around. Perhaps, if there was an afterlife, I could watch Ezra’s smug face crumble into a hallowing emptiness. I almost felt the water filling my lungs as my face paled and something rose from my throat. I stumbled to the trash can in my room, and stomach acid spilled from my chapped lips.

“Sorry,” I breathlessly mumbled to whatever divine being was watching, “I won’t think like that anymore.”

I wiped my face with crumpled tissues and pulled my hair back. The nausea finally cleared, and I felt slightly relieved. Footsteps approached my door, and I gently smiled when I saw my dad’s face. Thoughts of sorrow melted from my mind when I saw a toothy grin.

“Shucks, kid. You did well this year,” He heartily laughed and wandered inside my room, “Say, Mr. Borrego and his son, you might’ve heard of him, Ezra.”

He paused for comedic effect and expected me to laugh. I managed to fake amusement.

“Anyway, we were all going out on the boat, just us lads. But, I think it’d be best to bring my favorite kid with me on my birthday trip,” He patted my shoulder and grinned, “You have the honor of receiving my old rod.”

“I can’t fish, though,” I felt nauseous again and resisted the urge to cry, “I shouldn’t go.”

“Ezra can show you how, fisheyes,” He winked, “Besides, I’ve heard from Mr. Borrego a certain someone can’t stop speaking about you.”

“How lovely,” I weakly muttered.

Dad was wasted, and Mr. Borrego was rambling to him about how, in his glory days, he caught thirteen catfish from a single river to impress his buddies.

“I could catch a catfish anytime today, y’know what I mean,” My dad howled with laughter, and Mr. Borrego copied, “Y / N ‘s mother was the only fish for me. What lovely scales she had.”

“Her hands weren’t that callused,” is what I wanted to say, but I knew better than to argue with my dad.

“How I’d love to say something about my wife, but I know Ezra would immediately proclaim it to his mother. Such a mama’s boy, it took him ages to stop cozying up between us in bed when he had a nightmare,” Mr. Borrego took a sip of his beer then pointed at Ezra, “Didn’t you always say it was clowns?”

“Can you cut it out,” Ezra sighed, and his hand tightened on his fishing rod.

“Don’t want to embarrass your son in front of my kid now, Joaquin,” My dad’s eyes locked with Ezra’s, “Lord knows he’ll throw a fit the way he used to all those years ago.”

Silence permeated the salty ocean air, and the gray-blue waves rocked the boat. The soft song of the water made me yawn as my dad looked at me and then over to Ezra.

“I’ll drop you two off at the shore,” He hummed and slowly stood up, “You kids don’t need to listen to us drunk adults ramble anymore.”

“Thank God, I can finally fucking leave this shitbox,” Ezra muttered loud enough for me to hear, “Fucking hate it here.”

I felt frightened and approached my father, who was steadily cruising the old boat towards the docks.

“I want to stay here,” I tugged his blue flannel and whispered, “I don’t want to be alone with Ezra. Dad, I've wanted to tell you for a while–”

“Relax, I know you two kids have the hots for each other,” He stupidly grinned at me, “I know you’re nervous to make a move because I know you. Trust me, Ezra’s dad can’t keep a single secret about his son. The boy is a little more than head over heels.”

Protesting seemed pointless; who was I to ruin my dad’s birthday with silly complaints about fears? Besides, Ezra never laid a hand on me personally; it was always his friends. ‘It was fine,’ the words echoed in my head as the motor’s noise softened. ‘It was fine,’ formed in my throat as my sandals nearly fell off my feet when I stepped on the jagged, algae-covered rocks.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, kids,” Mr. Borrego called out as the motor loudly started.

“We’ll be fine,” my eyes and mouth said.

When the boat was far enough, I looked at Ezra.

“I’ll leave,” The words quickly fell off my tongue, and I attempted to ease the tension, “Just tell them I wasn’t feeling good.”

“No thanks, fisheyes,” Ezra smiled and stepped closer, “You scared or something?”

I was at the edge of the rocks and could feel Ezra's amusement. Yet, it didn’t matter anymore. The waves reflected the pale moonlight, and I saw my face shatter and reform in them.

“You think I’d actually hurt you or something? It’s my birthday gift to your fatass dad,” He laughed and tilted his head, “Oh, forgot you’ve always been obsessed with your dad. Don’t yell at me, please.”

The water called to me like a siren, and I felt an overwhelming urge to

Dive.

The frigid ocean water shocked my body as I opened my eyes. They stung with salt, and I felt hysteria overwhelm common sense. I jammed my foot inside the rocks and felt a delightful pain overcome my ankle. I crammed it further until it was stuck and felt relief sweep over my body. The ocean was no pond, but it was death–how could I complain about my wish?

A year, hour, minute, or second passed–it didn’t matter. I felt my lungs override my hysteric state and could hear Ezra’s hoarse shouting from the surface.

‘Fisheyes,’ I thought, ‘I bet his eyes are wider than mine. I loved Ezra’s eyes; they were always prettier than mine. Emerald green with thick, dark eyelashes. They sparkled when they looked at me.’

Warm and cold, then warm once more–the cycle of the ocean and my relationship with Ezra. I thought it’d finally freeze over; I thought he wanted me to die.

“Liar,” I threw up water and seafood dinner. My voice croaked out another, “Liar.”

An overwhelming sensation of pain that was too profound to protest any treatment consumed my nerves.

“You’re fucking insane,” Ezra smacked me across the face and clenched my soaked t-shirt, “You’re actually fucking insane.”

“Part of me hoped you’d save me,” I felt my eyes close and smiled, “I mainly wished you let me die.”

“I wish you fucking died. You’re ruining my life,” He muttered and let go of my shirt, “I hate you.”

“Why, Ezra?”

“Because you’re always on my mind, fucking fisheyes. I can’t focus on anything but you; it ruins my day to see you happy when you don’t even know the lengths I go to.”

“You’re lying. I fucking hate it when you lie.”

A chill crept down my spine when he cupped my face. His emerald eyes were wider than my own when our lips pressed. He crammed his tongue into my mouth, and I felt like vomiting again.

“Lenore always got in the way whenever I got you weak enough to do this,” He wiped his mouth, “Fucking bitch, why are you two still friends?”

“Lenore doesn’t get her friends to beat the shit out of me and doesn’t have fantasies of molesting me.”

“I bet I was your first kiss.”

Stomach acid crept into my throat, and I started to sob.

“Calling my dad and telling him you got tired. I’m taking you back to my place,” Ezra left my cold body on the rocks and cocked his head, “You look like shit.”

“I tried to kill myself,” I laughed and felt hysterical, “You want me to go back with you after this? I’ll throw myself back in the water.”

“Gives me another opportunity to tongue you,” Ezra smirked and grabbed my neck as he called his dad.

“They’re fatigued, Dad,” He stared at me, “I’m taking them back to our place; it’s closer. Besides, Mom loves to see Y / N. No, I– Shut up. I’m leaving now, bye.”

“I fucking hate you, Ezra,” My lip quivered, and I felt frigid.

“Cry it out,” He picked me up and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

#yandere writing #dark romance #yandere #yandere character #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #❤︎.pomegranate #☆–ezra

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