#I'd be curious to try this once

[dye-it-rouge-et-noir]

ChuZhang (褚章) Art Dump

Art in my 9 x 12 sketchbook

Art in my pocket sketchbook (Bonus Chu Yan sketch included from a while ago)

[IDs in alt text]

[camellcat]

I KNOW there is a pipeline from teen wolf to doctor who (or the other way around) but I haven't figured it out. I just. I see you. I see stiles stilinski pop up far too often for there not to be one.

and I don't even like most of you bc it's the same fuckin sterek hating scott mccall lovers (me) vs scott mccall hating sterek lovers (you), but in a completely different fandom. it's absolutely tragic.

[lesbian-gnf-archive]

hello it’s me and you against the world right now (dash is dead) and we’re already writing fanfic as it is so im going to ramble out my thoughts for my dnf telepathic bond au that i want to write. everything is the same and you do a brief synopsis of like bonds and how they work etc etc and i think i would make it so that bonds are like a soulmate thing and they snap into place the first time u touch ur soulmate. they’re not like super common but they’re also not super rare but like plenty of couples aren’t telepathically bonded and it’s pretty normal to not ever meet your bond mate and if u do and you’re like already married it’s even possible for it to be platonic or there’s ways to break the bond if u don’t want it. but anyways into dnf is dream’s parents would be bonded i think so to dream seeing that he’s always wanted a bond bc it seems like suck a good thing but George’s parents aren’t bonded so he doesn’t really care or see it as a big deal but dream has like a complex over wanting them to bond when they meet but not getting his hopes up and also I think I would integrate the concept of like different levels or depths of bonds. and dnf of course would have like the most extreme one. anyways pre meetup they kind of dance around feelings and are kinda sorta together in everything but name and then they meet and there’s so many anxious emotions and then they touch and the bond instantly clicks into place but it’s so overwhelming because of how high level it is and suddenly having each other’s thoughts and feelings enter their brains at full force when those thoughts and feelings are all anxiety and elation and everything else that comes with meeting just like. gives them both unimaginable migraines and you have to nurture newly formed bonds so suddenly they have to be in close proximity and touching or else they have headaches and there’s no hiding any thoughts from each other and it’s so scary to deal with on their first meeting but they sink into it and george of course loves and hates it bc literally living in dream’s head is his dream but also dream in his head able to hear all his doubts and fears and feelings no matter how he tries to hide them ? fawking terrifying . anyways also exploring them settling into this and dealing with adjusting to it and it helping them get their shit together and testing the limits of it and anyways . what are your thoughts on dnf telepathic bond au i just have always read them for hockey rpf and thought there needed to be a dnf one and then realized sometimes u have to write the fanfic u want to read

This is absolutely amazing I'm fucking obsessed and I need u to write it now.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 2

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Much less than yesterday, felt sick and sleepy so barely got anything done. It was also warmer inside today.. Very much dreading summer. I still feel like the people who ~~ love warm weather sooo much~~ must also have central heating and air and are able to escape the warmth, or at least have cool airy houses where they can get cross breezes or something.. I just fail to see how ANYONE could enjoy sweating all day because it's like 75F indoors, etc. grrbb,,, the headaches, sleepless sweaty nights, constant physical discomfort, etc. The next few days look cloudy and rainy though so.. yEs.. haha HA

Got a new charger for my old 2004 nokia phone so it actually turns on now, and recorded myself going through the ringtones and games. I might add the footage to a currently not fully edited video of me also looking through other electronics (old phones, turbo twist math, etc.). I love old ringtones actually and if I were rich, I would love to collect old phones specifically just to have a catalogue of what they're like and all of the sounds they contain.

Managed to have a tiny burst of energy and take photos of 3 outfits before my arms and shoulder started hurting and I got too warm.

Sent email to one doctor.

Translated like 3 words for the Avirrekava poem thing I mentioned yesterday. My language document is not organized very well at all so I've kind of lost my flow of working on it. I've heard about people making searchable dictionary type things for their conlangs, so I'd like to look more into that maybe. As well as making a custom font, though I don't know if that's more difficult for syllabaries (so wouldn't be directly linkable to a plain english alphabet keyboard?? eh?). Anyway, I need to finish the tapestry/painting thing/etc. soon though since I have no good place to put it. The canvas is warping a little just laying haphazardly on my closet floor lol.

Made one quick mspaint background image for the next batch of song snippet things for my jokey music youtube.

Edited like 10 minutes of the Giant Worldbuilding Slideshow Project.. couldn't focus on that either since being at the computer today irritated my shoulders and arms.

Notable sights: Saw 6 baby ducks and their parents swimming in a nearby pond!! It's interesting how their colors seem to change so much, and the young ones have the little spots on their back. Not much else, I was not very active lol..

Goals moving forward: Still working on consistent sleep schedule. Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story lol >:T).

Notable foods: HAD ASPARAGUS YEaaaaaghhhHHHH!!!!!!!!! Asparagus SQUAD!!!!!!!!!! ... Also a few pieces of smoked gouda with lunch, one of my favorite cheeses.

[diospirando]

Reblog/reply with your age, country or whatever you think is relevant and feel comfortable sharing.

Bonus: leave any unusual tips for quitting that worked for you.

[grandpa-cephalopods]

undefined

(Been distracted trying to learn the Splatana with Tartar here, this play was kind of nice.)

(Also I’m already 40 levels into bonus cata. Oops.)

[hedgehog-moss]

I went to the small pizzeria in a nearby village last month and asked for a calzone, and when she brought it to me the owner had a look on her face I can only describe as bitter.

Naturally my first assumption was that she was judging me for my food order (maybe calzones are too easy compared to other pizzas and she felt under-challenged as a pizza chef?), but then I looked at my calzone and the more I looked at it, the more I felt like it might have been a failed attempt at a cat calzone.

(I didn't ask for a cat calzone, just a calzone.)

If I had immediately identified it as a cat calzone I would have of course said something about it, such as "Aww that's so cute! You made it in the shape of a cat!! Thank you!" — but it was too late. I hesitated too long, and it was just failed enough that I wasn't sure it was meant to be a cat.

I think this poor woman knew her cat calzone was a failure and I wouldn't be able to recognise her effort for what it was, hence the bitterness in her eyes when she brought it to me.

I asked my friend if my pizza looked like a cat to her, and she said "Are you saying this because of the olives? I think they were just placed randomly."

no, I think they were meant to be eyes, and a cat nose. And those are the ears. Wait, I'll turn it in your direction so you can see

Friend: "It's just a pointy calzone... Maybe you should ask the chef if she meant to make it a cat?"

If I tried to make a cat calzone and the recipient of this gift went like 'hey, sorry, is this weird-looking thing meant to be cat?' I would sell my pizza restaurant and drown myself in the river.

After considering this, my friend said we could brainstorm a better phrasing—but then we ended up agreeing that since the chef didn't go 'haha sorry I tried to make a cat and failed!!' when she brought my pizza, the options were a) she didn't try to make a cat; b) she feels humiliated by her failure, and either way it's better to say nothing.

But I felt deeply curious about this unresolved mystery, so this week when I went back to the pizzeria I asked for a calzone again.

The options were now: a) the chef brings me a better, recognisable cat calzone and I immediately remark upon it and she's happy and we erase the failed cat calzone from the historical record and never mention it ever;

or b) the chef brings me a normal calzone, which suggests that the vague cat shape from last time was accidental and just another instance of chronic cat pareidolia.

(I refused to consider option c) The chef brings me another failed, hardly-recognisable cat. She just doesn't seem like the kind of person who would let that happen to her twice.)

Here's the photo of the failed cat calzone from last time, which, according to my friend, just looks like a pointy calzone with randomly-placed olives and not a deliberate attempt to make a cat:

And here's what the chef brought me this time:

THAT'S A CAT.

I knew it!!!!

And it looks so sad!! This cat calzone looks like it will burst into olive oil tears if you once again fail to identify it as the cat that it is

But I didn't; I was so ready this time. I went "A cat!!!!! It's so cute!" and the chef went like yes!!! I tried to make one last time but it looked weird :(

I said I was pretty sure it was a cat last time and apologised for not bringing it up and she said no, it's my responsibility to make it a decent cat. She also said she was glad I'd come back and ordered another calzone because she was really bothered ("vraiment embêtée") by that first failed attempt, and wondering if I'd noticed an attempt was made (and failed)

That's so relatable. It's like when you make a really embarrassing spelling mistake in a text and you're not sure if the other person has seen it and is judging you for it. Should you bring it up? Can it go unnoticed if you don't? It's the cat calzone equivalent of that. I'm so glad we were able to clear the air.

[irissuite]

🥭🎴🎸♟️🤺

[0boko]

thinking about dungeonmeshi s/i shenanigans… what if instead of being found by senshi, my s/i’s found by kabru’s group?

[bettsfic]

one of the best decisions i've ever made was to stop arguing.

i'd always been an arguer. i was defensive about everything and mindlessly contrary. it wasn't all my fault; i was (and still am) talked down to and patronized a lot, and when you live your life that way, you become kind of a raw nerve and dedicate a lot of energy to trying to prove yourself. someone even told me once, "it's just fun messing with you. you get so upset."

at 23, i was working in an environment where about a half dozen middle aged conservative men were always telling me what to do and explaining things to me. i either argued with them when they said heinous things or stewed about it for hours or even days. and so my new year's resolution one year was simply: no arguing.

it felt a little like defeat at first, like i was no longer standing up for what i believed in, even though no matter how right i was or how much proof i had for my claims, no one had ever been swayed by anything i told them. part of that was because they had no respect for me and didn't take me seriously; the other part was the simple truth that arguments are almost never productive. when someone says something and you immediately reply with, "you're wrong and here's why," a wall goes up and nothing can go over it.

i couldn't just let these men talk at me though, so i started asking questions. not leading questions, not with an intention to prove a point or walk them into a corner. i genuinely wanted to understand how they came to shape the opinions they held. i realized that understanding and agreeing are two different things, and just because i seek to understand doesn't mean i condone.

a truly fascinating thing happened: these men walked into corners all by themselves. it turns out nobody had ever actually tasked them with speaking their opinions aloud to a neutral audience. no one had ever been sincerely curious about them and their views. sure, their loved ones probably asked, "how are you doing?" all the time as a show of affection, but that's much different than, "what do you think?"

knowing what i know now, i think that's true of everyone. how many people ask you for your opinion and listen to what you have to say without speaking their opinion back to you? without judging you? how many people actively and intentionally try to understand you?

it's been over ten years since my resolution and i think i can count the arguments i've gotten into on one hand. one finger, even. it's amazing what happens when someone tries to rile you up, pick a fight with you, and your only response is, "can you elaborate on that?"

you can work someone into a very open and vulnerable state when you ask questions. they eventually run out of their usual talking points and move into the personal. when i do this, it's not like therapy; i'm not trying to help anyone. and it's not like teaching; i'm not trying to educate anyone. i just want to understand how people reach the conclusions they've come to. even after all these years of asking questions and not arguing, it still amazes me how few people in this world feel understood, and how easy it is to get them to open up when you say, "i want to know what you think."

[jinxedshapeshifter]

as a flutist who it just occurred to could cause absolute chaos roleplaying a bard, do a lot of people who play bards in d&d play instruments and somehow implement it into their roleplay because dear god, the fucking chaos that has the potential to cause is LIMITLESS

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

What are your experiences with drugs?

Just weed tbh. But I never purchased anything, I'd just join the circle at parties. Haven't touched it in almost a year now just bc I've been in a different environment.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Sebastian (Pressure) fluff. I need it.

"I gotta ask, do you have personal beef with those Squiddles? Because you sure like harassing them with that light of yours."

"I don't do it on purpose! If that damn Angler stopped killing the lights in every big room, maybe I could see my own hand in front of me!" You scowled up at the sea creature while standing in his humble shop.

Why was Sebastian always taunting you whenever you died to something unexpected..only to act all friendly-like in this place?

Well, you had to be grateful he was the only thing down here that wasn't trying to kill you, and that no other monsters could barge into the shop when you least expect it.

So for once, you could breathe easy..

Until he decided to remind you of those creepy squids who were somehow always in your way.

He must get a kick out of watching you perish.

"Oh of course, blame everybody except yourself." He tsked. "You have more than enough clues on how to survive each creature you encounter...but maybe they should've spoonfed all the details to you instead-"

"I don't need this from you." You huffed. "My damn hands are cramped from holding a locker shut against Pandemonium, Eyefestation gave me a killer headache, nobody bothered to tell me about the people in the walls-"

"And don't forget about those Squiddles, hehe."

Silence.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. I'll shut up about them now."

"Thanks. You have any medkits available?"

"Right on my tail, buddy. Hope you got enough data."

"More than enough." As your eyes surveyed the items strapped to his tail, they eventually wandered over to the desk with batteries laying out.

But it wasn't them that caught your interest, but rather the file on the table. 'How curious..is this for a monster I'm gonna meet soon?' You went over to investigate.

"Is the document for sale?"

"Wow, you might be the first to ask me about that and be able to afford it! The others before you barely had enough for a flashlight." Sebastian chuckled, clasping his hands together. "If you're interested, give me a thousand data, and I'll have it ready for you to read when you return to the surface. And don't worry, it's all there. So I won't have to kill you to to reveal any information."

You blinked, realizing what he meant by that as you read the folder's cover and why he was asking so much for it.

Sebastian's Document

Of course, you knew he'd be recognized as a specimen, too, but to be put with Pandemonium, the Anglers, and all those other monsters that tried to eat you alive?

For some reason, it made you frown a little.

"This is your file, and they let you keep it?" You turned back to him.

"...I stole it. And I'm not gonna lie...I regret reading it." He muttered, suddenly looking a bit tense..and sad, even, although he was quick to mask any signs of vulnerability when he realized you were staring. "Anyways, it's a steep price. I'm sure you'd rather spend your assets on-"

"What if I buy it and take it off your hands right now?"

For a moment, his ear fins perked up with surprise, glowing eyes widening. But he was quick to give you a suspicious gaze. "Really? You're that nosey about my lifestory? Pretty weird if you ask m-"

"It's more of a courtesy to you."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean..you look like you're carrying a heavy weight just from that folder being there. You haven't stopped looking at it since I mentioned it." You pointed out, seeing his ears twitch again. "You've always told me "out of sight, out of mind" with the Anglers. Couldn't I say the same about you and that document?"

".....using my own words against me, eh? What're you, a damn psychologist?" He teased, although his words didn't hold as much spite or sarcasm as usual. "But no, you're right. I'd rather forget about it forever. So if you want it that badly, be my guest." His third arm made a grand gesture towards the table. "Just don't get caught parading it around. And don't come crying to me when you realize you needed something else instead of-"

"I won't, trust me." You exchanged the data, taking the folder. "I'll be on my way now. I got a crystal to find."

With that, you began ducking down to renter the vent and continue your journey into the abandoned site-

"Hey."

You paused and looked back at Sebastian, tilting your head as you wondered why he seemed nervous again--wringing his hands together.

"Um..thank you, genuinely..for taking that off my hands." He cleared his throat, sweeping back his dark bangs. "I hope that whatever you find in there doesn't..get in the way of our "partnership". I'd hate to lose my number one customer."

Nodding, you gave him a reassuring smile. "You won't lose my business, Seb. That I promise."

"..now hold on we aren't THAT close to start going by nickna-" He began to snap, but you've already disappeared into the duct. "Aaaand they're gone...hmph..well..least I don't have to worry about that anymore."

Sighing, he looked around the shop, wondering what he should do now.

What you did was certainly a nice gesture.

He only hopes you'll keep your promise and not be afraid of him.

[cryptidcasanova]

Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.  

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."  

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.