GUYS…unfortunately I most likely won’t be writing fanfics anymore. I’ve been so caught up with college and work, it’s been so hard to make time for it BUT, if I do return I’ll be writing for a lot of anime’s and ofc the mcu 🫰. I’ll also be leaving my fics up of course! love yall🤍.
Not sure why it’s flagged for mature but oh well..
In the bustling world of S.H.I.E.L.D., you found yourself navigating the complexities of espionage and covert operations. Despite your gentle demeanor, you were a highly skilled agent, proficient in hand-to-hand combat and advanced technology. Your days were filled with rigorous training sessions, strategic planning meetings, and high-stakes missions. Your kindness and empathy set you apart from your peers, earning you the respect and admiration from most of your colleagues. You couldn’t have felt more content with life itself. Well, until Fury decided it was time for a new partner.
Everything changed when you were partnered with Bucky Barnes, the enigmatic former Winter Soldier. Initially, your partnership was met with skepticism from both sides, as Bucky's brooding nature contrasted sharply with your warm personality. However, as the two of you embarked on missions together, a mutual respect and understanding began to form. Your unwavering optimism and compassion helped Bucky confront his troubled past, while Bucky's experience and resilience inspired you to push your limits. Together, you became an unstoppable team, blending their unique strengths to protect the world from emerging threats. Their partnership not only transformed their professional lives but also forged a deep, unspoken bond that neither had anticipated.
Once again you felt content with the life you had. Only a few months of working together, word spread you were partners with Bucky around the compound faster than you could think. Initially you didn’t mind. You didn’t think being his partner was such a big deal…until you heard your name a few too many times in conversations. It started with, the why’s. Why did fury choose them to be his partner? Then came, the what if’s. What if I was chosen? I’d fit the criteria much better.
You couldn’t care less about what they were saying, you knew your abilities and you knew your worth. That was until, the comments they were making became…personal. Constant picking you apart about your appearance, your personality, even the way you talked. You tried to ignore it for so long, but slowly, you started to believe them. What if he had a better partner? Someone who fit the criteria, the looks, the attitude.
When fury assigned the two of you to a week long mission, you were more than relieved. Seven long days away from all the whispers, and the glares. But the words they embedded into your mind…
Just wouldn’t go away.
———
Bucky entered the second hotel room of the week beside you with his duffel bag and a grumpy face. Most of the mission was merely a stakeout, something both of you were relieved to have, But you just had to distract him talking about god knows what, getting both of you spotted. The fight was brutal. There were multiple men against the two of you and it clearly wasn’t a problem for Bucky, but it was for you. He makes his way into the room and he grunts as he sees one bed.
Your brows furrowed hearing his rough grunt. You were standing behind him, not able to see the room completely yet. You walked into the surprisingly warm room, the heat seeping into your skin immediately. Finally turning your head to look at him, you follow his gaze to the singular bed sitting in the middle of the room. Your shoulders slump down, knowing it’s going to be a long night. “I’ll take the couch.” you say softly, tone sweet per usual, despite the fight against the many corrupt agents you just had.
Bucky drops his bag onto the floor and strips off his jacket, tossing it onto the bed. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks, his tone gruff and rough around the edges per usual. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
You shrug his response off, tossing your bag on the clearly rough couch. “You’ve had a long night buck, it’s fine.” you insisted, meeting his eyes.
You’ve both had a long night, but clearly his was longer. He was doing most of the work. He tossed and dropped any agent that came your way, despite knowing you could take them. He was covered in light bruises and had dried blood in places you adored.
However, you were fine.
Attempting to prove your point, you took a seat on the couch, the material of it clearly out of date. You stretch your legs out, being the perfect size to fit “comfortably” on it.
“See? Comfy.” you say, forcing a smile onto your lips.
Bucky just stares at you incredulously for a long moment before shaking his head violently as if trying to clear it. He mutters something under his breath, likely something harsh given his tone. He stomps over to the couch and grabs you by the wrist, pulling you to your feet with surprising strength. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to hurt you.
"Stop being fucking stupid."
His voice is surprisingly gentle despite the harsh words. He towers over you, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Without letting go of your wrist, he points to the bed.
"You're not sleeping on this couch. You're tired too."
Your eyes flicker between his, knowing his stubbornness is just as bad as yours. “Okay.” you mutter. Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as you agree, finally releasing your wrist. He watches you settle into the bed before he approaches it himself, climbing in on the opposite side. "Try not to kick me in your sleep." He mutters, rolling onto his side facing away from you.
You nod in response, despite knowing he can’t see you. Your body slips under the comforter, a relaxed sigh falling from your lips before reaching over pulling the antique thread, turning the lamp off. “Goodnight Bucky.” you say, voice barely above a whisper.
Bucky doesn't respond right away, his breathing slow and steady in the darkness. After a few moments, he mumbles quietly. "Night." His voice is unusually vulnerable in the dark, lacking the usual sharp edges.
The nightfall sets in, the outside city darkening. But you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Maybe it was the endless thoughts racing through your head, or the countless nights you had to force yourself to stay awake. You turn over, facing Bucky’s back, his chest slowly rising and falling. His name fell from your lips smoothly, keeping a hushed tone. His body remained still, his back facing you. He inhales slowly, holding his breath as if waiting to see if you'll actually wake him up or if you'll just go back to silence. He doesn't make a sound.
“I’m guessing you’re asleep, but…thank you for today. I know I give you a migraine most of the time but, you never let me come out of these kind of missions hurt…I really am grateful for you. You’re probably not gonna hear this anyway, but I had to get it off my chest.”
Bucky remains absolutely still, barely even seeming to breathe. Your soft whisper hangs in the darkened room. After a moment that stretches uncomfortably long, he shifts slightly, rolling onto his back. Without looking at you, he mutters gruffly, "Don't thank me for doing my job."
Your ears perk up hearing his hushed tone, quickly you retort, “Your job wasn’t to protect me the way you did.”
In the darkness, he turns his head slightly towards you. His expression is probably thoughtful, though you can't see it. His voice comes out in a rare moment of vulnerability. "Would you prefer I let you get yourself killed?" The question carries a hint of irritation, but something else too.
You send him a glare, despite the darkness his baby blues are as vibrant as ever staring at the ceiling.
“Sometimes.”
He wasn’t meant to hear that, it truly wasn’t meant to leave your lips, but it did…and, oh did he catch it quicker than you could regret the words.
His eyes narrow slightly at your whispered admission. He's silent for a long moment, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Finally, he turns his head to look at you, his gaze intense even in the darkness. "And why the fuck would you want that?"
With a shrug of your shoulders, turning your head to meet his eyes, you finally confess.
“You have people that care about you out there, I could never live with myself knowing you died trying to protect me. You know, the other agents…they say, I’m not made for this kind of stuff.”
His expression darkens slightly as you speak softer and softer, almost like you're ashamed. His voice drops lower too, mirroring yours. "So you'd rather get yourself killed than hear them call you a goddamn baby one more time?" He asks sharply, though his voice isn't angry.
You shake your head, letting his words hang heavy in the air for a moment longer. “So you would get a new partner you wouldn’t have to worry so much about. Someone who doesn’t give you a headache every mission.”
His eyes linger on yours for a long moment, searching for something. When he finally speaks, his voice is rougher, his words tinged with a hint of something that sounds almost like... disappointment?
"I don't want a new partner."
Oh.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, his words throwing you way off track. “Why?” You ask, your voice softer than before, almost…vulnerable.
He pauses, his mind racing with reasons he shouldn't tell you. But in the dark, with only you listening, he finds himself answering honestly. "Because they're not you." He says simply, turning his gaze back to the ceiling.
Heat rises to your face, strawberry tint covering your cheeks, his words sending a flutter through your chest. “What’s so special about me Buck? I mean, you always act like you’d rather be anywhere else instead of here…with me.”
His jaw clenches as he hears the uncertainty in your voice, the same uncertainty that makes you hesitate on missions, that makes you second guess yourself. He turns his head to look at you again, his expression serious. "You're the most infuriating person I've ever met," Bucky exhales sharply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "And stubborn as hell." He adds, rolling onto his side to face you fully now. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he stares intensely into your eyes.
"But you're good at your job."
Your eyes widen slightly, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You think so?” You ask sweetly, your tone impossibly softer than before.
His eyes lock with yours, and he finds himself getting drawn in, like he always does when you look at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. He swallows hard, ignoring the strange feeling in his chest.
"You're a better shot than half the men out there,"
His eyes study your features in the moonlight, noting how your expression has softened entirely. He's aware he's probably said too much, gotten too soft - but somehow, it feels right. His voice drops even lower, definitely vulnerable.
"And don't you dare fucking get yourself killed."
The smile lingering on your face grows wider, your eyes never leaving his. “How can I? whether I like it or not, you’ll be there to save me.” You mutter, resting your head against the pillow, getting a better view of his softened features. He lets out a quiet snort, but there's no real annoyance behind it. More like... fondness? God, when does he ever get like this with anyone?
"Damn right I will. Even if it means putting up with your sweet-ass attitude every goddamn day."
You roll your eyes, despite the sweet smile playing on your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment Barnes.” You retort, studying his face for moment too long. You’ve never really looked at him like this. Really looked at him. His steel blue eyes, the stuble covering his sharp jaw, the small dimple when he smiles every so often, his subtle nose scrunches when he talks. He’s perfect. He catches you staring, his gaze lingering on yours for a beat too long. Something unspoken passes between you, a connection that's been building slowly over the months. He clears his throat, breaking the moment.
"Shut up and go to sleep."
———
The sun rises over the city, seeping strongly through the hotel blinds. Your eyes flutter open, meeting Buckys peaceful expression. His lips are parted ever so slightly, and his chest slowly rising, falling just as slow as it risen. For the first time in weeks, you slept, better than you ever had specifically. You let out a content sigh, before rolling out of bed, heading to the bathroom, running a hot shower. Preparing yourself for the day. You and Bucky had to go back to the compound, meaning you had to deal with the group of agents that constantly tore you apart, piece by piece.
You stare in the mirror, taking in your appearance. You didn’t look like the other agents, the other girls in the force were rough around the edges, yet they were so pretty, you were just…you. You swing the door open, dressed in your tactical suit only to meet Bucky’s eyes. Who in which was already dressed and ready to leave.
“Let’s go.”
———
They left the hotel, heading to the car. You tossed your bag in the back and hopped into the passenger seat. The car usually buzzed with energy on these drives, filled with laughter, debates about god knows what, and endless banters. Now, the silence was a thick blanket, suffocating any attempt at conversation. Each mile deepened the palpable tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Every glance felt like a dare, every breath amplified in the quiet.
About halfway into the drive, your leg started bouncing – the nerves were kicking in. You just didn’t have the energy to listen to the agents trash-talk you, especially with Bucky sporting bruises while you barely had a scratch.
He notices your leg bouncing, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He knows how much their words cut you, even when you try to hide it.
He’s always known.
Bucky had overheard the agents’ whispers, their words like tiny needles pricking at his conscience. They spoke of your involvement, their doubts and judgments laced with a thinly veiled disdain. He clenched his jaw, fury simmering beneath his stoic exterior, but he never brought it up. How could he? He didn’t want to burden you, didn’t want to add to whatever weight you were already carrying. So he swallowed his anger and kept silent, the words festering inside him, unsure how to broach the subject without causing more pain.
Without thinking, he reaches over and places a hand on your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
You glanced at him, then quickly averted your eyes to the passing scenery. "Sorry," you muttered, fighting to still the nervous tremor in your leg.
He squeezes your knee again, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "Don't apologize," he says gruffly, his voice laced with a protectiveness he can't quite hide.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for. They're just jealous of what you've got."
You shake your head, a quiet scoff falling from your lips. ”Jealous..” you repeat, voice barely above a whisper. What could they possibly be jealous of? Take Sharon for example, beautiful, tough, skinny. She had the whole package, then there was,
you.
Practically the opposite.
He glances at you, his expression softening. "You," he says simply, his hand still resting on your knee.
"They're jealous of the way you can take a punch and keep moving forward. They're jealous of your heart, even though they don't understand it." He pulls into the compound, the cars and noise immediately overwhelming. He turns to you before you can unbuckle your seatbelt, his eyes serious. "Listen to me," he says, his voice lowering.
"No matter what they say or do today, remember."
The words tumbled out before he could catch them, he hadn't planned to say anything, hadn't even realized the thoughts were there, but suddenly they were spilling from his lips, effortless and raw. Each syllable hung in the air, surprising him as much as they must have surprised you, a confession he didn't know he was ready to make.
“They’re jealous.” you repeated.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips as he nods approvingly. "Damn right they are." He releases your seatbelt, his hand hovering momentarily before dropping away. "Stick by me, yeah? If anyone gives you shit, just look my way. I got your back."
You smile softly, before opening the door grabbing your bags, falling into step beside Bucky.
“Always saving me Barnes.”
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Someone's gotta," he teases, his arm brushing against yours as you walk. As you enter the compound, the familiar faces turn towards you, whispers and stares immediately filling the air. He feels your tension, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on the small of your back. He guides you through the crowd, his presence a wall of protection between you and the judging gazes.
Steve was waiting at the end of the hall, a knowing look on his face.
Your eyes darted between them, and by the look on Steve’s face, you knew how this was gonna go. "You know what? You guys can catch up. I'm gonna head to my room and crash." You said, leaving no room for argument. You practically sprinted down the hall until you reached your room. You slipped inside, closing the door behind yourself, before collapsing onto the bed.
———
As soon as the door closes, Bucky turns his attention back to Steve. "She's been getting a lot of shit lately," he says, his voice low and even. "I don't like it."
Steve nods, knowing exactly what he’s referring too. He’s not deaf, he hears the way the other agents, including Sharon talk about you. He hates it. You’ve told him numerous time not to say anything but sometimes he can’t bite his tongue. Steve runs a hand through his hair, "She handles it really well," he admits. "Too well sometimes. She won't complain, she won't fight back. She just takes it." He uncrosses his arms, his expression stoic.
"It's like she doesn't care what they say."
They kept at it, rehashing the same points for what felt like an eternity, before Bucky finally announced he was heading to your room. The knock on your door was tentative at first, then a little louder, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a drumbeat. When he didn’t hear anything back, he figured you were asleep, or at least trying to be. He gently pushed the door open, stepping inside and carefully shutting it behind him, as if not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere he imagined you were enveloped in.
He stands there for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He can see your silhouette on the bed, hear the soft sounds of your breathing. He walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "Hey," he says quietly, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder.
"You awake?"
You hummed softly, burrowing deeper under the covers and pulling the blanket over your eyes, "I'm sleepy, Buck," you whispered, your voice muffled by the fabric, hoping he'd get the hint and let you drift back to sleep.
He chuckles softly, the sound barely audible. "I figured," he murmurs, his hand lingering on your shoulder. Leaning closer, he whispers conspiratorially, "Had enough of their crap for today, huh?" His voice is gentle, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of concern.
“Just tired.”
He sits there for a moment, watching you pretend to be asleep. His mind races, putting together the pieces of your act. You always do this, retreat into yourself when things get tough. He pulls the blanket down from your face, his eyes searching yours. "Bullshit,"
Your eyes met his, locking in a silent battle of wills, before flickering nervously between the two. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaped your lips. "Just let me sulk for a little longer," you mumbled, rolling your eyes, despite the tell-tale blush that was already creeping up your neck, betraying your attempt at indifference.
“You can sulk all you want, but you're not getting out of talking to me," he says firmly, his eyes searching yours. He can see the exhaustion, the frustration, the hurt behind your mask.
You sat up, the blanket falling to your lap. Your eyes, tired yet somewhat, alert, bored into his, a silent command hanging in the air. "Talk," you demanded, the single word laced with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
He leans back, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Why do you let them get to you so much?" he asks bluntly, his voice low and serious. His elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped together as he watches you intently.
"I mean, seriously."
His question caught you off guard, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "I don't know," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It never used to bother me, not like this. I'm not sure what changed." The truth was, you were just as baffled as he probably was. It was strange, this sudden wave of insecurity. You used to revel in your appearance, in the way you stood out from the crowd like a vibrant splash of color against a muted background. You embraced being different, even relished it. But now? Now, all you wanted was to blend in, to disappear into the sea of sameness, to be anything but the person you once were.
He studies your face, noticing the way your posture has become more defensive. "When did it start bothering you?" he asks, his voice softer now. He's close enough that he can feel the slight tremble in your hands. "Because I gotta say, it's been eating you up lately."
You broke eye contact, your gaze drifting towards the worn floorboards as you pondered the question, the weight of unspoken insecurities pressing down on you. "It started... when I became your partner," you finally admitted, the words barely above a whisper. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any real humor. "They always said I wasn't a good fit for you, that I was all wrong for Bucky Barnes. Too sweet, too cheerful, too…bright, and somewhere along the way, I started to believe them." The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the usual confident facade you presented to the world.
You shook your head, gaze darting around the room, desperate to avoid the intensity of his eyes. "Sharon was pretty clear about it," you mumbled, the words laced with a bitter taste. "She said you deserved someone like her. Skinny, beautiful, tough as nails. And she's right, isn't she? Look at you right now, Bucky, going all soft and sentimental on me. It's not a good look."
The words hung in the air, even Bucky didn’t know what to say. His eyebrows furrowed as he processes your words, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before hardening into determination. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to an intense whisper. "First off, Sharon can fuck right off. Second, since when do I give a damn what she thinks I deserve?"
“You don’t. But I do.”
Your admission seemed to resonate within him, his heart skipping a beat as his gaze locked onto yours, an intensity burning in his eyes that made your breath catch in your throat. "And what do you think I deserve?" he asked, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Because from where I'm standing," he continued, his voice thick with sincerity,
"I think I deserve you. All of you."
His confession hit hard, sending a rush of anticipation through your veins. There was no room for hesitation – every part of you had been longing for this moment. You looked into his eyes, a silent question passing between you two. Seeing only desire mirrored back, you surged forward, closing the distance between each other with a desperate urgency. Your lips crashed against his, a collision of pent-up emotions and pure longing.
You’ve been working the early morning shift in your cozy neighborhood coffee shop for about a year now, and you’ve gotten to know most of the regulars. One of them, a tall, blond guy with a fondness for black coffee, has been catching your eye for a while. He always comes in early, usually before the morning rush, and quietly reads a book or sketches in a small notebook. Although you’ve only had polite small talk with him, something is so familiar about him.
On one of the rainy nights, the shop is almost empty, and you’re closing up when he walks in, soaked and shivering. He looks surprised to see you and hesitates at the door, as if he wasn’t expecting to find anyone still there. “Rough night?” you ask, already reaching for a towel to offer him. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Something like that.”
The exhaustion was evident in his voice, immediately putting a frown on your lips, his usual boyish smile not appearing like it usually does. “Come on in, I’ll stay open for a little longer.”
“You hungry?” You coo, walking towards the counter. You put on some water to boil, while grabbing a pastry you saved for yourself. “I’ll make you some tea, while you munch on this. On the house.” you say, in a soft tone per usual, setting the strawberry filled croissant in front of him. His usual neat hair is a soaked, pieces sticking to his forehead, his beautiful dimpled filled smile is replaced by a weak frown, and his eyes, his ocean eyes are almost navy blue. Despite all of it, he still looks insanely handsome, someone you would see in movies kind of handsome.
Taking a seat across from him, your eyes flick up to meet his, “Everything okay?”
He looks at you with those tired, ocean-blue eyes, his gaze lingering on your face before he nods slowly. “Everything's fine, just a long day.” He picks up the croissant and takes a small bite, his eyes closing in appreciation as he savors the flavor. Your heart breaks at the sight in front of you. “You sure? I know you don’t know me…but I’m here for you.” Your eyes search his face for a moment before holding out your hand, your name falling from your lips quietly.
He looks at your outstretched hand, then back up at your face. The soft glow of the lamp above, illuminating your features beautifully. He takes a deep breath before placing his hand in yours, his large hand engulfing your smaller one. “Steve.” He says simply, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smile softly at him, holding his hand for a moment longer, “Fits you.” you mutter before walking back to the counter, pouring the boiling water into a antique like mug. The fresh, floral, and slightly sweet scent filling the atmosphere. “Lavender. It’ll ease you, help you relax a bit.” you say, setting the cup in front of him.
He looks up at you, surprised by the gesture, but he doesn't say anything. He simply picks up the mug and inhales the soothing scent of the lavender. It has a calming, soothing aroma that flowed through his body deliciously. Imagine walking through a field of lavender on a warm summer day, where the air is filled with the gentle, aromatic fragrance of the tiny purple blossoms. The scent is both delicate and invigorating. He takes a sip, closing his eyes as the warmth spreads through him and the calming effects of the tea start to work. You didn’t mean to stare, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked so...
“Better?” you coo, taking a seat across from him once again.
He opens his eyes, meeting your gaze. He nods, giving you a small smile. “Much better, thank you.” He takes another sip of the tea, his eyes never leaving yours.
There it was, that pretty, boyish smile. The same smile you get when you bring his usual black coffee over, checking up on him as he scribbles in his notebook.
“Smile more. You have a gorgeous smile.”
You had a natural sweetness about you that drew people in effortlessly. Your kind words and genuine compliments flowed like a gentle stream, always finding something beautiful or admirable in those around you. However, your warm demeanor and the way you looked into people's eyes when you spoke often left others wondering if your kindness was more than just friendly. Your compliments, though sincere, sometimes carried an unintended flirtatious undertone, making hearts flutter and leaving a trail of admirers in your wake. Including Steve.
His cheeks darken slightly, surprised by your honesty. He chuckles softly, showing off his pearly whites, meeting your gaze again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He takes another sip of the lavender tea, his mind wandering. He sets the mug down and looks at you intently. Really looks at you.
Your brows furrow in confusion, a smirk creeping on your lips. “What?” you mumble nervously.
He had seen you nearly every day, but tonight seemed different. He found himself captivated by the small details he had never noticed before. The way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the gentle curve of your lips, and the soft, melodic sound of your laughter. He observed the delicate way you tucked a strand of your usually updo hair behind your ear and the thoughtful expressions that flitted across your face as you listened. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time.
“Tell me something.”
You giggle softly, running your fingers through the tangles in your hair. “Like what?”
“Something good.” he says, his voice low and curious. He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, eyes following your slow hand movements. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you tuck you bottom lip between you teeth, pondering for a minute. “Do you like olives?” you say, tightening your jaw, attempting to suppress a laugh.
His lips curve into a genuine smile, surprised by your random question. "What?" he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, actually. I love olives." He leans back in his chair, completely amused by this shift in conversation. Your face contorts into a disgusted expression, “I hate olives.” you retort, despite the smile lingering on your lips.
He laughs, a deep, warm sound that seems unfamiliar even to his own ears. It's been so long since he's found simple conversation this enjoyable. He shakes his head, amused by your olive aversion. "Well, that's unfortunate for you. Olives are one of life's greatest pleasures." You squint your eyes at him before rising to your feet, holding a hand out.
“follow me.”
He hesitates for only a heartbeat before taking your hand, intrigued by the mischievous glint in your eyes. As he stands, he towers over you, but your confidence seems to level the difference in height. He follows you without question. You lead him behind the counter, into the kitchen of the cafe. Pulling a container of olives from the fridge, you turn to face him, “I made these garlic stuffed olives today for a pastry, but you know the whole not liking olives thing, I didn’t get to taste it. Try it for me?” you say, looking up at him.
He looks down at the container in your hands, then back up at your hopeful expression. He's taken aback by your thoughtfulness, the way you're sharing something you made just because you know he'll enjoy it. It's a simple gesture, but it means more to him than you'll ever know. you open the lid, motioning for him to take some,
“let me know your thoughts.” you whisper, as he brings the olive to his mouth.
He pops the olive into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. As he chews, his expression slowly transforms, first surprise, then pleasure. He swallows, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. "That's... that's delightful." he says, his voice dripping in sincerity. Meanwhile you picked one up for yourself popping it into your mouth, regret filling your face immediately. Let’s just say that olive was pitted very quickly.
Get it, pitted? no…? moving on
He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound, as he watches you spit out the olive. He can't help but find your reaction adorable. "I take it you're not a convert," he teases, reaching for another olive. "But seriously, these are really good."
Heat rushes to your face, the subtle compliment leaving your cheeks flushed. “Thank you steve.” you coo sweetly, before pulling out a small plastic container filling it to the brim with olives.
“For you, good sir.”
He takes the container, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. He looks down at the olives, then back up at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're giving me these?" He asks, as if he can't quite believe it.
You nod, taken aback by his surprise. “Yeah, you like them, and I made more than enough.” You weren’t lying, you made tons. What harm will it cause if a few go missing, it’s not like you couldn’t make more. On top of that it’s just olives.
However, it wasn’t just olives to Steve. It wasn't the gift itself that made him happy, but the thoughtful gesture from someone he barely knew. It warmed his heart more than you could have imagined. He sets the container down on the counter, his hands lingering on it for a moment before he looks back up at you. "Thank you," he says, his voice low and gentle.
"Really, thank you."
You hold his gaze for a little longer, before glancing at the clock. “It’s getting late, I have to close up soon. Will I see you tomorrow?” you ask, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He follows your gaze to the clock, nodding slightly as he realizes how much time has passed. When he looks back at you, there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Yeah, I'll definitely be back tomorrow," he says, his voice warm and reassuring.
You smile in response, grabbing a few more pastries slipping them in a bag. “Take these for the road, on me, don’t worry.” You say handing him the bag filled of warm, fruit filled pastries.
His chest feels tight at your thoughtful gesture. He takes the bag, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours again. "You don't have to do that," he says softly, but he makes no move to give the bag back. "Though I wouldn't want to offend you by refusing." You chuckle softly, pushing the bag away playfully.
“I’ll be highly offended.”
He laughs softly, a warm and genuine sound that seems to fill the entire room. He follows you to the door, the bag of pastries dangling from one hand. When you open the door for him, he steps out into the cool night air, turning back to face you.
"Goodnight,"
You flash him a small smile, “Goodnight Steve.” you say, closing the door gently behind him. Steve found himself in the coffee shop more and more hoping to catch a glimpse of you behind the counter. He started coming in more frequently, not just for the coffee, but for the chance to see you smile and share a quick conversation. Each visit felt like a small adventure, filled with anticipation and the hope of getting to know you a little better each time.
As the sun rises over the city, for the first time in months, you’re excited to go to work. Throwing your work uniform on, you stand in the mirror examining your appearance. For the first time in months, once again, you let your natural hair fall freely on your back. Finally content with how you look, you make your way to work opening the shop as you usually do.
Meanwhile while you were opening up, Steve makes his way back to the bakery. He's early, but he can't help himself. He wants to see you again, to talk to you, to just be around you. He pushes open the door, the bell above it ringing out, and steps inside.
Your hands work against the dough, as you hear the door bell ring. “Welcome in!” you call out sweetly, before turning around, your smile forming quickly once you see who’s waiting at the counter.
“Goodmorning Steve, the usual?”
Sending him a wink, you start brewing plain black coffee for the golden boy. “How about a new pastry? It’s on the sweeter side, made it just for you.” you ask, pulling the honey claw from the oven. He watches as you pull the golden, honey-glazed pastry out of the oven, his mouth watering slightly. He's always been a sucker for anything sweet. "You made that for me?" he asks, a hint of surprise and pleasure in his tone.
“Yes sir, it’s sweet like you, and it has a golden touch, also just like you.” you say placing the pastry on a antique plate, bringing it around the counter to his table, which is conveniently right next to the counter. He chuckles softly at your words, taking the plate from you with a grateful smile. "You're too kind," he says, picking up the pastry and taking a bite. His eyes widen slightly as the sweet, flaky pastry melts in his mouth, the honey glaze coating his lips.
Your eyes linger on his, before retreating back to the kitchen, pouring his coffee into another antique mug. The shop usually runs slow on these days, most people not coming in till later. “Any plans, it is Valentine’s Day you know? You mutter, setting his coffee infront of him.
He swallows his mouthful, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Of course he knew it was Valentine’s Day, he’s been building up the courage to ask you for weeks now. He just didn’t realize how little time he had. "Not really," he admits softly. "You?" He lifts the coffee to his lips, watching you over the rim. You shake your head, stealing a bite of his pastry. “Im off early today, with no plans.”
His lips curve into a smile as you steal a bite, not seeming to mind at all. Instead, he seems rather pleased that you're comfortable enough to do so. "Too bad," he says, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Want some company?"
Your face lights up at his offer, “I would love that.” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “Wait, what do you do for work steve?” You just realized you have no idea what he does, only seeing him in the cafe on mornings like these. He chuckles, setting his coffee down. "You really don't know?" He asks, his eyebrows raising. He always assumed you knew, but maybe you were just too distracted by other things to ask.
You tilt your head in confusion, “I really don’t, are you some kind of villain.” you retort, a smile playing on your lips.
His laughter fills the café, the sound warm and genuine. "A villain?" He shakes his head, going in for another bite of his pastry. "No, not quite." He mumbles, eyes twinkling with mischief. You grab the pastry from his hands taking another bite.
“You look familiar, I just can’t put my finger on it.”
He watches as you take another bite from the same spot he did, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know," he says softly, "Most people recognize me." He chuckles, his shoulders lifting slightly.
Thats when it hit you, Captain Fucking America is sitting in front of you, how have you not noticed. “You’re not an avenger.” you say, jaw dropping slightly.
“I am.”
Your smile fades slightly, “Don’t think I’m calling you captain from now on.” He chuckles again, a soft, warm sound. "I would hope not," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I prefer Steve, if we're being honest." He leans back in his chair, studying you with a gentle gaze.
A giggle falls from your lips, as you lean back mimicking his movements. “Alright golden boy, I’ll stick with Steve.” you reply, a smirk creeping on your lips.
His smile widens, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Golden boy, huh?" He takes another bite of his pastry, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can live with that." He winks, the gesture sending a flutter through your chest. Yeah. That wink didn’t go unnoticed Steve. You can already feel the heat rushing to your cheeks,
“Time flies doesn’t it, I’ll be off in a few minutes, then we could go to my apartment?“
His smile fades slightly as you mention leaving the café, but it returns when you invite him to your apartment. "I'd like that," Steve says, standing up and helping you gather your things. He follows you out of the café, his arm brushing against yours as he walks beside you, taking in your features under the sunlight. He's always thought you were beautiful, but there's something about the way the sunlight hits your skin that makes you even more radiant.
Finally reaching your apartment, you unlock the door, your snow like white cat running to your feet. The apartment isn’t anything special, but it’s distinctly you. The dim lights, the faux plants hanging on the walls, it’s…cozy. “Hi baby.” you coo, picking up your little snowball.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. He watches as you scoop up your fluffy white cat, nuzzling against your neck. He can't help but smile at the sight. He sits down on your sofa, watching you interact with your cat. You smile placing her on Steve’s lap, “Her name is Lavender.” you say softly, noting her curl into a ball on Steve’s lap. She usually is weary around strangers, but she melted into Steve’s embrace almost immediately.
He strokes her soft fur, his eyes warm as he looks down at the cat curled up in his lap. "She's adorable," he says, his voice soft and gentle. He glances up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Lavender, huh?" You nod, taking a seat next to him.
“She relaxes me, eases any tense feelings I have.”
Steve nods in understanding, his large hand continuing to gently stroke Lavender's fur. "Seems like she's pretty good at that," he remarks, noticing how the cat has settled comfortably in his lap, her soft purrs filling the quiet room. Your eyes soften at the sight, your baby cuddling with your golden boy. You don’t know why but you feel so comfortably content in this moment. Despite having a stranger in your living room, you felt as if you’ve known him for years. Picking up the remote on the table, you turn on a movie.
The movie plays, and your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s your comfort movie, it’s cheesy as hell but it’s you. You inch closer to Steve subconsciously, your thigh pressing against his. He notices your closeness, but maintains his focus on the TV. Truthfully, he likes it. A lot. The feel of your leg against his is surprisingly... comforting. Lavender shifts slightly in his lap, making herself more comfortable between you two.
"This has to be your favorite movie.”
You chuckle softly, glancing over at him, “What makes you say that?” you ask, your tone teasing with playfulness.
"You're smirking at the screen like it's the best thing you've ever seen," He grins slightly, his shoulders relaxing. He throws an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers almost grazing your shoulder. You mimic his movements, relaxing even further, your back pressing against his arm. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, Teen Beach Movie is a classic!” you retort, scooping lavender up into your arms.
He laughs softly, watching you cuddle your cat like a baby. A flutter spreading across his chest. "This movie is cheesy as hell." He grins, his legs spread wide again, getting comfortable even further. Too comfortable. You simply roll your eyes, before singing along to the scene.
“The day started ordinary, boys walking by, ooouu ooouu.”
He throws his head back and laughs genuinely, surprised by your enthusiasm. "Jesus Christ..." He mutters, shaking his head with a smile. Despite his teasing, he finds himself admiring you. He couldn't help but smile as he watched you sing along to the cheesy song from the movie playing in the background. Your enthusiasm was infectious, you were simply just having fun, care free, and that made you even more endearing to him.
“I’m not the kind, to fall for a guy, who flashes a smile. Not usually swoon, but I’m over the moon.”
His laughter dies down as he watches you sing along, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He swears you're singing it to him intentionally, the lyrics applying all too well. He swallows thickly, his eyes glued to your face as you practically give him a concert.
As the movie progresses, you found yourself leaning further into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder as you watch the scene in front of you. Your lips are pouted ever so slightly, and your hair is messily resting on your shoulders. He tenses slightly as you get comfortable against him. He swallows hard again, trying not to react to how good you feel against him. Glancing up you see your hair practically drowning Steve, “sorry.” you mumble, a giggle slipping from your lips. You quickly tie your hair back resting your head, not on his shoulders, but his chest now.
He inhales sharply as your head rests on his chest, his heart racing at the proximity. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as if he's afraid you'll move away. He looks down at you, his fingers itching to touch the loose strands. "It's okay," he whispers.
“How do you like the movie so far?” you murmur, lazily stroking lavender on your lap.
Steve chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly. His gaze alternates between the cheesy romantic comedy playing on screen and the content cat perched on your lap. "Honestly? It's horrifically awful," he admits with a wry smile, his arm tightening slightly around you.
You gasp, looking up at him, “You did not just say that.” you say playfully, before setting Lavender aside. "I did," he says with mock seriousness, looking down at your offended expression. "Every line is more cliche than the last." He pauses, a genuine smile playing at his lips. "But..." He reaches up to gently adjust a loose strand of hair that's fallen.
Your eyes follow his hand, as it gently fixes your hair. Meeting his eye once again, you smile warmly. “It’s so cute.” you say barely above a whisper.
He raises an eyebrow at the whispered 'cute', his fingers lingering in your hair. He swallows hard, his eyes locked with yours. He can feel his heart racing again, like it always seems to do around you. "You actually like this cheesy mess?"
“I Just sang along to another scene, like, is an understatement.”
Your arm slowly creeps around his waist, pulling your body closer in his embrace. The world around you seemingly started to fade away, his steady breathing and eyes pulling you in. He feels your arm around his waist and his heart skips a beat. He looks down at your arm, then back up at your face, his gaze searching. He realizes he's been holding his breath and lets it out slowly.
"For someone you barely know, you’re really comfortable around me.”
You nod, resting your head back on his chest. “who wouldn’t be.” you mumble in his chest, completely forgetting about the movie that brings you comfort, now focused on the new comfort in your arms.
Steve breathes in deeply, the scent of your hair mingling with the faint popcorn aroma from earlier. He finds himself smiling at the simplicity of this moment - holding you close while some saccharine rom-com plays in the background. It's surprisingly perfect. As the movie approaches the end, you find yourself more focused on Steve than the television. Studying his handsome features, you don’t see him as Captain America, you see him as Steve. The sweet man who comes in every morning book in hand, the man who stays a little longer than he should just to talk to you.
Just like yours, Steve's attention is entirely on the warmth of your body, the familiar scent of your hair, and the gentle rhythm of your breathing against his chest. He finds himself absentmindedly playing with a loose strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. you hum in approval, eyes fluttering closed.
“Thank you Steve.” you mumble into his chest.
“For what?" He tenses slightly, waiting for your response. His thumbs rub soothing patterns on your lower back. He loves these small, innocent moments. They make him feel... normal. Like more than just a soldier or a symbol. Like Steve Rogers, the guy from Brooklyn.
“For everything, you make me feel seen.”
Your answer is short and sweet, a thousand different meanings behind that simple sentence.
"You know what's funny?" He murmurs softly, his fingers carding through your hair again. "Everyone sees me as this big hero. This symbol of America. But you..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You treat me like a normal person. Like Steve, not Captain. Even though you just realized who I really was, you didn’t change.”
You smile, arms tightening around his waist. “That’s how you should always be treated, you’re human.” your voice is barely above a whisper, his soothing touch easing your mind.
He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. "You're really something special," he whispers, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the top of your head. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close as the credits roll on the TV. For now, this is enough.
———
𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑢𝑠：As you woke up, you noticed you were still on the couch wrapped comfortably in a blanket. Steve must’ve left early after you fell asleep. You started your usual morning routine, getting ready for another day of work. But when you opened your front door, you were greeted by a delightful surprise; a bouquet of lavender flowers and a handwritten note. The soft, calming scent of the lavender filled the air, instantly brightening your morning. You picked up the note and read the sweet message, feeling a wave of warmth spread through your chest.
You’ve been working the early morning shift in your cozy neighborhood coffee shop for about a year now, and you’ve gotten to know most of the regulars. One of them, a tall, blond guy with a fondness for black coffee, has been catching your eye for a while. He always comes in early, usually before the morning rush, and quietly reads a book or sketches in a small notebook. Although you’ve only had polite small talk with him, something is so familiar about him.
On one of the rainy nights, the shop is almost empty, and you’re closing up when he walks in, soaked and shivering. He looks surprised to see you and hesitates at the door, as if he wasn’t expecting to find anyone still there. “Rough night?” you ask, already reaching for a towel to offer him. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Something like that.”
The exhaustion was evident in his voice, immediately putting a frown on your lips, his usual boyish smile not appearing like it usually does. “Come on in, I’ll stay open for a little longer.”
“You hungry?” You coo, walking towards the counter. You put on some water to boil, while grabbing a pastry you saved for yourself. “I’ll make you some tea, while you munch on this. On the house.” you say, in a soft tone per usual, setting the strawberry filled croissant in front of him. His usual neat hair is a soaked, pieces sticking to his forehead, his beautiful dimpled filled smile is replaced by a weak frown, and his eyes, his ocean eyes are almost navy blue. Despite all of it, he still looks insanely handsome, someone you would see in movies kind of handsome.
Taking a seat across from him, your eyes flick up to meet his, “Everything okay?”
He looks at you with those tired, ocean-blue eyes, his gaze lingering on your face before he nods slowly. “Everything's fine, just a long day.” He picks up the croissant and takes a small bite, his eyes closing in appreciation as he savors the flavor. Your heart breaks at the sight in front of you. “You sure? I know you don’t know me…but I’m here for you.” Your eyes search his face for a moment before holding out your hand, your name falling from your lips quietly.
He looks at your outstretched hand, then back up at your face. The soft glow of the lamp above, illuminating your features beautifully. He takes a deep breath before placing his hand in yours, his large hand engulfing your smaller one. “Steve.” He says simply, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smile softly at him, holding his hand for a moment longer, “Fits you.” you mutter before walking back to the counter, pouring the boiling water into a antique like mug. The fresh, floral, and slightly sweet scent filling the atmosphere. “Lavender. It’ll ease you, help you relax a bit.” you say, setting the cup in front of him.
He looks up at you, surprised by the gesture, but he doesn't say anything. He simply picks up the mug and inhales the soothing scent of the lavender. It has a calming, soothing aroma that flowed through his body deliciously. Imagine walking through a field of lavender on a warm summer day, where the air is filled with the gentle, aromatic fragrance of the tiny purple blossoms. The scent is both delicate and invigorating. He takes a sip, closing his eyes as the warmth spreads through him and the calming effects of the tea start to work. You didn’t mean to stare, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He looked so...
“Better?” you coo, taking a seat across from him once again.
He opens his eyes, meeting your gaze. He nods, giving you a small smile. “Much better, thank you.” He takes another sip of the tea, his eyes never leaving yours.
There it was, that pretty, boyish smile. The same smile you get when you bring his usual black coffee over, checking up on him as he scribbles in his notebook.
“Smile more. You have a gorgeous smile.”
You had a natural sweetness about you that drew people in effortlessly. Your kind words and genuine compliments flowed like a gentle stream, always finding something beautiful or admirable in those around you. However, your warm demeanor and the way you looked into people's eyes when you spoke often left others wondering if your kindness was more than just friendly. Your compliments, though sincere, sometimes carried an unintended flirtatious undertone, making hearts flutter and leaving a trail of admirers in your wake. Including Steve.
His cheeks darken slightly, surprised by your honesty. He chuckles softly, showing off his pearly whites, meeting your gaze again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He takes another sip of the lavender tea, his mind wandering. He sets the mug down and looks at you intently. Really looks at you.
Your brows furrow in confusion, a smirk creeping on your lips. “What?” you mumble nervously.
He had seen you nearly every day, but tonight seemed different. He found himself captivated by the small details he had never noticed before. The way your eyes sparkled when you smiled, the gentle curve of your lips, and the soft, melodic sound of your laughter. He observed the delicate way you tucked a strand of your usually updo hair behind your ear and the thoughtful expressions that flitted across your face as you listened. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time.
“Tell me something.”
You giggle softly, running your fingers through the tangles in your hair. “Like what?”
“Something good.” he says, his voice low and curious. He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table, eyes following your slow hand movements. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you tuck you bottom lip between you teeth, pondering for a minute. “Do you like olives?” you say, tightening your jaw, attempting to suppress a laugh.
His lips curve into a genuine smile, surprised by your random question. "What?" he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, actually. I love olives." He leans back in his chair, completely amused by this shift in conversation. Your face contorts into a disgusted expression, “I hate olives.” you retort, despite the smile lingering on your lips.
He laughs, a deep, warm sound that seems unfamiliar even to his own ears. It's been so long since he's found simple conversation this enjoyable. He shakes his head, amused by your olive aversion. "Well, that's unfortunate for you. Olives are one of life's greatest pleasures." You squint your eyes at him before rising to your feet, holding a hand out.
“follow me.”
He hesitates for only a heartbeat before taking your hand, intrigued by the mischievous glint in your eyes. As he stands, he towers over you, but your confidence seems to level the difference in height. He follows you without question. You lead him behind the counter, into the kitchen of the cafe. Pulling a container of olives from the fridge, you turn to face him, “I made these garlic stuffed olives today for a pastry, but you know the whole not liking olives thing, I didn’t get to taste it. Try it for me?” you say, looking up at him.
He looks down at the container in your hands, then back up at your hopeful expression. He's taken aback by your thoughtfulness, the way you're sharing something you made just because you know he'll enjoy it. It's a simple gesture, but it means more to him than you'll ever know. you open the lid, motioning for him to take some,
“let me know your thoughts.” you whisper, as he brings the olive to his mouth.
He pops the olive into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. As he chews, his expression slowly transforms, first surprise, then pleasure. He swallows, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face. "That's... that's delightful." he says, his voice dripping in sincerity. Meanwhile you picked one up for yourself popping it into your mouth, regret filling your face immediately. Let’s just say that olive was pitted very quickly.
Get it, pitted? no…? moving on
He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound, as he watches you spit out the olive. He can't help but find your reaction adorable. "I take it you're not a convert," he teases, reaching for another olive. "But seriously, these are really good."
Heat rushes to your face, the subtle compliment leaving your cheeks flushed. “Thank you steve.” you coo sweetly, before pulling out a small plastic container filling it to the brim with olives.
“For you, good sir.”
He takes the container, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. He looks down at the olives, then back up at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "You're giving me these?" He asks, as if he can't quite believe it.
You nod, taken aback by his surprise. “Yeah, you like them, and I made more than enough.” You weren’t lying, you made tons. What harm will it cause if a few go missing, it’s not like you couldn’t make more. On top of that it’s just olives.
However, it wasn’t just olives to Steve. It wasn't the gift itself that made him happy, but the thoughtful gesture from someone he barely knew. It warmed his heart more than you could have imagined. He sets the container down on the counter, his hands lingering on it for a moment before he looks back up at you. "Thank you," he says, his voice low and gentle.
"Really, thank you."
You hold his gaze for a little longer, before glancing at the clock. “It’s getting late, I have to close up soon. Will I see you tomorrow?” you ask, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He follows your gaze to the clock, nodding slightly as he realizes how much time has passed. When he looks back at you, there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Yeah, I'll definitely be back tomorrow," he says, his voice warm and reassuring.
You smile in response, grabbing a few more pastries slipping them in a bag. “Take these for the road, on me, don’t worry.” You say handing him the bag filled of warm, fruit filled pastries.
His chest feels tight at your thoughtful gesture. He takes the bag, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours again. "You don't have to do that," he says softly, but he makes no move to give the bag back. "Though I wouldn't want to offend you by refusing." You chuckle softly, pushing the bag away playfully.
“I’ll be highly offended.”
He laughs softly, a warm and genuine sound that seems to fill the entire room. He follows you to the door, the bag of pastries dangling from one hand. When you open the door for him, he steps out into the cool night air, turning back to face you.
"Goodnight,"
You flash him a small smile, “Goodnight Steve.” you say, closing the door gently behind him. Steve found himself in the coffee shop more and more hoping to catch a glimpse of you behind the counter. He started coming in more frequently, not just for the coffee, but for the chance to see you smile and share a quick conversation. Each visit felt like a small adventure, filled with anticipation and the hope of getting to know you a little better each time.
As the sun rises over the city, for the first time in months, you’re excited to go to work. Throwing your work uniform on, you stand in the mirror examining your appearance. For the first time in months, once again, you let your natural hair fall freely on your back. Finally content with how you look, you make your way to work opening the shop as you usually do.
Meanwhile while you were opening up, Steve makes his way back to the bakery. He's early, but he can't help himself. He wants to see you again, to talk to you, to just be around you. He pushes open the door, the bell above it ringing out, and steps inside.
Your hands work against the dough, as you hear the door bell ring. “Welcome in!” you call out sweetly, before turning around, your smile forming quickly once you see who’s waiting at the counter.
“Goodmorning Steve, the usual?”
Sending him a wink, you start brewing plain black coffee for the golden boy. “How about a new pastry? It’s on the sweeter side, made it just for you.” you ask, pulling the honey claw from the oven. He watches as you pull the golden, honey-glazed pastry out of the oven, his mouth watering slightly. He's always been a sucker for anything sweet. "You made that for me?" he asks, a hint of surprise and pleasure in his tone.
“Yes sir, it’s sweet like you, and it has a golden touch, also just like you.” you say placing the pastry on a antique plate, bringing it around the counter to his table, which is conveniently right next to the counter. He chuckles softly at your words, taking the plate from you with a grateful smile. "You're too kind," he says, picking up the pastry and taking a bite. His eyes widen slightly as the sweet, flaky pastry melts in his mouth, the honey glaze coating his lips.
Your eyes linger on his, before retreating back to the kitchen, pouring his coffee into another antique mug. The shop usually runs slow on these days, most people not coming in till later. “Any plans, it is Valentine’s Day you know? You mutter, setting his coffee infront of him.
He swallows his mouthful, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. Of course he knew it was Valentine’s Day, he’s been building up the courage to ask you for weeks now. He just didn’t realize how little time he had. "Not really," he admits softly. "You?" He lifts the coffee to his lips, watching you over the rim. You shake your head, stealing a bite of his pastry. “Im off early today, with no plans.”
His lips curve into a smile as you steal a bite, not seeming to mind at all. Instead, he seems rather pleased that you're comfortable enough to do so. "Too bad," he says, taking another sip of his coffee.
"Want some company?"
Your face lights up at his offer, “I would love that.” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “Wait, what do you do for work steve?” You just realized you have no idea what he does, only seeing him in the cafe on mornings like these. He chuckles, setting his coffee down. "You really don't know?" He asks, his eyebrows raising. He always assumed you knew, but maybe you were just too distracted by other things to ask.
You tilt your head in confusion, “I really don’t, are you some kind of villain.” you retort, a smile playing on your lips.
His laughter fills the café, the sound warm and genuine. "A villain?" He shakes his head, going in for another bite of his pastry. "No, not quite." He mumbles, eyes twinkling with mischief. You grab the pastry from his hands taking another bite.
“You look familiar, I just can’t put my finger on it.”
He watches as you take another bite from the same spot he did, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know," he says softly, "Most people recognize me." He chuckles, his shoulders lifting slightly.
Thats when it hit you, Captain Fucking America is sitting in front of you, how have you not noticed. “You’re not an avenger.” you say, jaw dropping slightly.
“I am.”
Your smile fades slightly, “Don’t think I’m calling you captain from now on.” He chuckles again, a soft, warm sound. "I would hope not," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I prefer Steve, if we're being honest." He leans back in his chair, studying you with a gentle gaze.
A giggle falls from your lips, as you lean back mimicking his movements. “Alright golden boy, I’ll stick with Steve.” you reply, a smirk creeping on your lips.
His smile widens, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Golden boy, huh?" He takes another bite of his pastry, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can live with that." He winks, the gesture sending a flutter through your chest. Yeah. That wink didn’t go unnoticed Steve. You can already feel the heat rushing to your cheeks,
“Time flies doesn’t it, I’ll be off in a few minutes, then we could go to my apartment?“
His smile fades slightly as you mention leaving the café, but it returns when you invite him to your apartment. "I'd like that," Steve says, standing up and helping you gather your things. He follows you out of the café, his arm brushing against yours as he walks beside you, taking in your features under the sunlight. He's always thought you were beautiful, but there's something about the way the sunlight hits your skin that makes you even more radiant.
Finally reaching your apartment, you unlock the door, your snow like white cat running to your feet. The apartment isn’t anything special, but it’s distinctly you. The dim lights, the faux plants hanging on the walls, it’s…cozy. “Hi baby.” you coo, picking up your little snowball.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. He watches as you scoop up your fluffy white cat, nuzzling against your neck. He can't help but smile at the sight. He sits down on your sofa, watching you interact with your cat. You smile placing her on Steve’s lap, “Her name is Lavender.” you say softly, noting her curl into a ball on Steve’s lap. She usually is weary around strangers, but she melted into Steve’s embrace almost immediately.
He strokes her soft fur, his eyes warm as he looks down at the cat curled up in his lap. "She's adorable," he says, his voice soft and gentle. He glances up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Lavender, huh?" You nod, taking a seat next to him.
“She relaxes me, eases any tense feelings I have.”
Steve nods in understanding, his large hand continuing to gently stroke Lavender's fur. "Seems like she's pretty good at that," he remarks, noticing how the cat has settled comfortably in his lap, her soft purrs filling the quiet room. Your eyes soften at the sight, your baby cuddling with your golden boy. You don’t know why but you feel so comfortably content in this moment. Despite having a stranger in your living room, you felt as if you’ve known him for years. Picking up the remote on the table, you turn on a movie.
The movie plays, and your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s your comfort movie, it’s cheesy as hell but it’s you. You inch closer to Steve subconsciously, your thigh pressing against his. He notices your closeness, but maintains his focus on the TV. Truthfully, he likes it. A lot. The feel of your leg against his is surprisingly... comforting. Lavender shifts slightly in his lap, making herself more comfortable between you two.
"This has to be your favorite movie.”
You chuckle softly, glancing over at him, “What makes you say that?” you ask, your tone teasing with playfulness.
"You're smirking at the screen like it's the best thing you've ever seen," He grins slightly, his shoulders relaxing. He throws an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers almost grazing your shoulder. You mimic his movements, relaxing even further, your back pressing against his arm. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, Teen Beach Movie is a classic!” you retort, scooping lavender up into your arms.
He laughs softly, watching you cuddle your cat like a baby. A flutter spreading across his chest. "This movie is cheesy as hell." He grins, his legs spread wide again, getting comfortable even further. Too comfortable. You simply roll your eyes, before singing along to the scene.
“The day started ordinary, boys walking by, ooouu ooouu.”
He throws his head back and laughs genuinely, surprised by your enthusiasm. "Jesus Christ..." He mutters, shaking his head with a smile. Despite his teasing, he finds himself admiring you. He couldn't help but smile as he watched you sing along to the cheesy song from the movie playing in the background. Your enthusiasm was infectious, you were simply just having fun, care free, and that made you even more endearing to him.
“I’m not the kind, to fall for a guy, who flashes a smile. Not usually swoon, but I’m over the moon.”
His laughter dies down as he watches you sing along, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He swears you're singing it to him intentionally, the lyrics applying all too well. He swallows thickly, his eyes glued to your face as you practically give him a concert.
As the movie progresses, you found yourself leaning further into his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder as you watch the scene in front of you. Your lips are pouted ever so slightly, and your hair is messily resting on your shoulders. He tenses slightly as you get comfortable against him. He swallows hard again, trying not to react to how good you feel against him. Glancing up you see your hair practically drowning Steve, “sorry.” you mumble, a giggle slipping from your lips. You quickly tie your hair back resting your head, not on his shoulders, but his chest now.
He inhales sharply as your head rests on his chest, his heart racing at the proximity. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as if he's afraid you'll move away. He looks down at you, his fingers itching to touch the loose strands. "It's okay," he whispers.
“How do you like the movie so far?” you murmur, lazily stroking lavender on your lap.
Steve chuckles softly, shaking his head slightly. His gaze alternates between the cheesy romantic comedy playing on screen and the content cat perched on your lap. "Honestly? It's horrifically awful," he admits with a wry smile, his arm tightening slightly around you.
You gasp, looking up at him, “You did not just say that.” you say playfully, before setting Lavender aside. "I did," he says with mock seriousness, looking down at your offended expression. "Every line is more cliche than the last." He pauses, a genuine smile playing at his lips. "But..." He reaches up to gently adjust a loose strand of hair that's fallen.
Your eyes follow his hand, as it gently fixes your hair. Meeting his eye once again, you smile warmly. “It’s so cute.” you say barely above a whisper.
He raises an eyebrow at the whispered 'cute', his fingers lingering in your hair. He swallows hard, his eyes locked with yours. He can feel his heart racing again, like it always seems to do around you. "You actually like this cheesy mess?"
“I Just sang along to another scene, like, is an understatement.”
Your arm slowly creeps around his waist, pulling your body closer in his embrace. The world around you seemingly started to fade away, his steady breathing and eyes pulling you in. He feels your arm around his waist and his heart skips a beat. He looks down at your arm, then back up at your face, his gaze searching. He realizes he's been holding his breath and lets it out slowly.
"For someone you barely know, you’re really comfortable around me.”
You nod, resting your head back on his chest. “who wouldn’t be.” you mumble in his chest, completely forgetting about the movie that brings you comfort, now focused on the new comfort in your arms.
Steve breathes in deeply, the scent of your hair mingling with the faint popcorn aroma from earlier. He finds himself smiling at the simplicity of this moment - holding you close while some saccharine rom-com plays in the background. It's surprisingly perfect. As the movie approaches the end, you find yourself more focused on Steve than the television. Studying his handsome features, you don’t see him as Captain America, you see him as Steve. The sweet man who comes in every morning book in hand, the man who stays a little longer than he should just to talk to you.
Just like yours, Steve's attention is entirely on the warmth of your body, the familiar scent of your hair, and the gentle rhythm of your breathing against his chest. He finds himself absentmindedly playing with a loose strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger. you hum in approval, eyes fluttering closed.
“Thank you Steve.” you mumble into his chest.
“For what?" He tenses slightly, waiting for your response. His thumbs rub soothing patterns on your lower back. He loves these small, innocent moments. They make him feel... normal. Like more than just a soldier or a symbol. Like Steve Rogers, the guy from Brooklyn.
“For everything, you make me feel seen.”
Your answer is short and sweet, a thousand different meanings behind that simple sentence.
"You know what's funny?" He murmurs softly, his fingers carding through your hair again. "Everyone sees me as this big hero. This symbol of America. But you..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You treat me like a normal person. Like Steve, not Captain. Even though you just realized who I really was, you didn’t change.”
You smile, arms tightening around his waist. “That’s how you should always be treated, you’re human.” your voice is barely above a whisper, his soothing touch easing your mind.
He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. "You're really something special," he whispers, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on the top of your head. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close as the credits roll on the TV. For now, this is enough.
———
𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑢𝑠：As you woke up, you noticed you were still on the couch wrapped comfortably in a blanket. Steve must’ve left early after you fell asleep. You started your usual morning routine, getting ready for another day of work. But when you opened your front door, you were greeted by a delightful surprise; a bouquet of lavender flowers and a handwritten note. The soft, calming scent of the lavender filled the air, instantly brightening your morning. You picked up the note and read the sweet message, feeling a wave of warmth spread through your chest.
Valentine’s day was quickly creeping around the corner and it’s safe to say you were more than excited. Tony being Tony decided to throw a little Valentine’s Day get together, knowing Stark and his dramatic effects. He didn’t mention you had to have a Valentine and a gift until three days before. It was kind of like a secret Santa sorta thing which you already adored. Although you didn’t have a valentine just yet, you were already determined to get them the best gift ever.
Bucky on the other hand, didn’t want anything to do with the lovey dovey holiday. He attempted to avoid everyone the week of Cupid, but he couldn’t seem to avoid you. He never could seem to avoid you and your illuminating presence. You always found a way to make him laugh, smile, stick around longer than he usually did. He was practically hopelessly in love with you, not that he would ever admit that…but you always lingered in his mind. Once he heard about the get together, he was all out. He didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to find a date, he just wanted to sit in his room and sulk. Sulk about not having the courage to just ask you out. But here he was, sitting on the couch talking to Steve about it.
“Buck you have to, it’ll be nice for you to, socialize.”
As Bucky was about to respond you walked in. It was as if a ray of sunshine had broken through his clouds. your presence was magnetic, drawing every eye toward you. The warmth of your smile lit up the space, casting a glow that made everything seem a little brighter and more beautiful. Hopelessly in love. “Whatcha guys talking about?” you say, joining the two super soldiers on the sofa.
Bucky shifted uncomfortably on the couch as you approached, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before quickly darting away. He muttered something indistinguishable under his breath, clearly not thrilled about the impending Valentine's Day celebration. "Nothing important," he grumbled, crossing his arms.
“Uh huh…anyways! do you guys have a valentine yet?” You ask, subtly directing the question towards Bucky.
Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly at the question, his arms tightening around himself as he avoided looking at you directly. He was definitely not planning on having a date, let alone a valentine. But the thought of you with someone else made his stomach twist into knots. "No, I don't."
Your lips curl into a frown, before returning to its natural pout. “You’ll find one Bucky, any girl would be lucky to be your valentine.” Your heart tightened as the words left your mouth. You wanted to be his valentine, his date, you wanted to be, his. You had these thoughts often, more than you’d like to admit. But you always found yourself shaking them off, knowing it’ll never happen. you didn’t wanna ruin the relationship you’ve built, the relationship most don’t get to have with him.
Steve started talking once again, but you were still in your head not listening to a word he said. You didn’t plan on asking anyone else, hell, you didn’t want to ask anyone else. Only the man sitting beside you. A simple, ‘Will you be my Valentine’ wasn’t gonna cut it for you. You needed to have some thought behind your question, something that’ll blow his socks off. Maybe if you did something…elaborate, he’ll say yes. Something he’ll never see coming…like a secret admirer. Lightbulb!
“Oh, silly me, I forgot I had to…bake for tomorrow. I’ll see yall later.”
You knew you weren’t convincing, but you couldn’t have cared less. You stood up from the sofa, immediately rushing towards your room. As you rushed off, Bucky couldn't help but feel a strange emptiness in the room after you left. He uncrossed his arms, sitting there in thought.
Steve nudged him, "You really aren't getting a valentine?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Bucky rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “No.” he muttered, he didn’t want just any valentine. He wanted you. Steve just gave him a knowing look, seeing right through his act. "You realize you're being stupid, right?" he said, a teasing hint in his voice.
"There's someone right under your nose who'd jump at the chance to be your valentine, and you're just -"
Bucky suddenly stood up, giving Steve a glare before heading to his room.
Meanwhile you were sat on your bed, at least 10 sticky notes surrounding you. “This shouldn’t be too hard, right? People in the movies do it easily.” you mumbled to yourself as you began writing the first note.
“𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒. － 𝑆.𝐴. 𝑝𝑠. 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘.”
“𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡.”
You write a few more, waiting till the night fell to put your plan in motion. You tip toe to Bucky’s door, sticking the note right on the center before quickly making your way around the compound placing the notes in specific places only he’ll find. You sneak back to your room, letting out a deep breath feeling content.
Bucky however was sitting in his room, reading a book when he heard a soft tapping on his door. He opened it to find a sticky note stuck right in the center. He looked around confused before picking it up and reading it.
"𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒. － 𝑆.𝐴."
“What the hell.” he muttered, but he couldn’t help the pink creeping onto his neck. He took the note, shutting the door behind. He laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, who the hell would put a note on his door? Steve? he’s not that stupid, Tony? Definitely not. His thoughts raced endlessly in his head, not once directing to you. He eventually drifted off to sleep, leaving his worries till the morning.
The morning came quicker than it should’ve, you rolled out of bed immediately heading towards Bucky’s door. You glance at the center of it seeing the sticky note was gone, you swore your heart skipped a few too many beats. It worked. Now all that was left to do was wait. You took a seat on the sofa, scrolling through your phone.
Bucky woke up early, his mind still foggy from sleep. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. He got up and started his morning routine, showering and getting dressed. As he was making his breakfast, he noticed the sticky note on the side of the sofa. He swiftly made his way over, picking it up and tucking it away in his pocket. He waited in the kitchen till you left the room before opening it.
"𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙. － 𝑆.𝐴."
He scrunched his nose, a strange flutter in chest becoming evident. He didn’t understand. Who was 'S.A.’? He turned the stick note over reading it,
The gym. He didn’t necessarily adore the gym, but he always found himself there. Not just to work out but mainly to see you. He always found himself near you, looking at you, even talking to you. It didn’t come off as weird to him, it was more in a sense of admiring you without looking like a complete weirdo.
Nonetheless he made his way over to the gym, looking around for a moment before spotting the pink sticky note on the weight machine he used the most. He grabbed the note, reading it to himself quietly.
“𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑜𝑟 － 𝑆.𝐴.”
“𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒…”
The small scavenger hunt continued throughout the day, sending him all over the complex. This would’ve creeped him out big time, but there was something screaming at him to keep going. A gut feeling. and he always trusted his gut. Finally, he found the final note.
The last note signed your initials but Bucky was too quick on his feet to notice. He rushed to the living room completely ignoring everything else happening around him, only to find nothing on the couch. His heart stopped, was this all just a sick joke? He sighed, feeling like an idiot for believing something good would come out of this. Just as he was about to leave, he turned to see you standing in the kitchen, a heart made out of sticky notes in hand. Bucky's breath caught in his throat as he saw the heart on the kitchen counter, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. He couldn't believe it, all those notes, the scavenger hunt, it was you. He felt his heart racing, his cheeks heating up as he approached you. In the middle the heart it read,
Your smile only grew as he approached, you tried to ignore your heart rate picking up exponentially faster but the heat rushing to your cheeks was a dead give away of your reaction. “Well…?” you say, tilting your head ever so slightly.
“Will you be my valentine?”
Bucky stood before you, utterly stunned by the grand gesture. He hadn't expected this, hadn't dared to hope. Your smiling face, those beautiful eyes, the sticky note heart - it was overwhelming in the best way possible. A slow, hesitant smile crept across his lips as he gazed at you. Finally, he took the heart made out of little pink sticky notes in his own hands, admiring the small details before meeting your gaze.
“Yes.”
𝐵𝑂𝑁𝑈𝑆: The day of the little Valentine’s get together soon came, and Bucky couldn’t have been more excited, not that he was going to show it. But the smile he usually never wore, was a dead give away. He entered the living room, his baby blues immediately landing on your face. He couldn’t help but smile softly at you, the excited look on your face, the way your smile met each corner of your eyes, and the neatly wrapped gift in your hand. He almost forgot to check his pocket for the thousandth time, making sure your gift was still there. He took his seat next to you, his thigh touching yours.
“Hi Bucky.” You cooed, placing a matching headband on his head, the hearts shaking slightly.
Bucky's heart skipped a beat as you placed the headband on him, the soft touch of your fingers sending shivers down his spine. He chuckled lowly, running a hand through his hair to adjust the headband, the delicate fabric grazing over his fingertips. "Hey, you." He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.
The night was serene, filled with the warmth of laughter and conversation flowing effortlessly, filling the space with a sense of peace. The aroma of homemade cookies, and baked goods wafted through the air, adding to the comfortable atmosphere. As the night wore on, stories were shared, harmless arguments, and reminiscing about old times. As the end of the night approached the last thing to be given were the gifts. You and Bucky decided to go last, and it’s safe to say you were glad you did. Everyone got meaningful gifts, some were even given gags as well.
Once it got to your turn, you turned to Bucky, a warm smile playing on your lips. “I picked this gift out a while ago, but I had a few changes made recently.” You say placing the gift on his lap.
Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as he carefully accepted the beautifully wrapped gift. The pink and gold paper, complete with tiny hearts, was almost too pretty to unwrap. Almost. He felt everyone's eyes on him as he slowly peeled back the paper, revealing a dark blue velvet box. Your eyes remained on his watching as they lit up as he pulled out the heart shaped locket necklace. The way his lips curled into a smile when he seen the delicate pink detail engraved on the inside. His smile only growing wider as he saw what the engraving read:
"𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼’𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑".
He unconsciously touched the locket, his thumb running over the letters. He looked up at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled softly. He hadn't expected something so thoughtful. Your eyes met his once again, your smile mirroring his own. “Do you like it?” you whisper.
Bucky nodded, his voice caught in his throat. He reached out, carefully taking the locket from the box and holding it up to admire it in the soft light of the room. He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over the intricate details before closing the lid.
“I love it.”
The others chirped a bunch of awe’s as he put the necklace around his neck. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a similar velvet box placing it in your hands. He watched your curious expression as you took the box, his thumb unconsciously brushing against your fingers. "You gave me something perfect, so I figured..." He trailed off, leaving you to open it at your own pace, nervous butterflies dancing in his stomach.
As you opened the delicate box, your eyes widened in shock. You lifted the shimmering bracelet, holding it to the light, the attached charms spinning in place. “It’s beautiful…” you whisper, bringing it a bit closer to your face, reading the words engraved into it.
“𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒.”
Bucky smiled softly, watching your reaction with bated breath. He reached out gently, taking the bracelet from your hands and fastening it delicately around your wrist. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against your skin as he ensured it was secure. You couldn’t find the words to thank him, instead wrapping your arms securely around his waist pulling him into a hug.
He inhaled sharply as you embraced him, his arms automatically wrapping around you, pulling you closer. He rested his chin on top of your head, a content sigh escaping his lips as he held you. This moment, right here, was perfect. No words were needed.
Growing up, you always felt a sense of detachment from those around you. Your parents were preoccupied with their own struggles, leaving you to navigate your emotions alone. As a result, you built walls around your heart, finding it easier to keep your feelings hidden rather than risk vulnerability. Friendships and relationships were challenging, as you often seemed distant and aloof. Despite your longing for connection, the fear of getting hurt kept you emotionally unavailable.
When you joined the avengers, you had a hard time connecting with the others. The first couple of weeks you were cooped up in your room keeping to yourself, often finding yourself reflecting on your past life, mirroring the experiences and emotions you once lived through. Whether it was the way you approached relationships or handled adversity, your past life served as a constant reminder and guide. This mirroring allowed you to draw strength from your history, using it as a foundation to build a better future while remaining deeply connected to your roots. Over time you slowly started to join the conversations, showed up at events, even staying for movie nights.
After years of feeling like you were constantly on edge, you finally found a sense of calm. The anxious thoughts began to quiet down, and you felt a newfound sense of control over your emotions. The once overwhelming stressors in your life seemed more manageable, and slowly you approached each day with a serene confidence, bringing a deep sense of inner peace you longed for.
That was until you met Bucky.
You truly didn’t have a problem with him, you found him almost intriguing. His cold demeanor, his attitude, his attractive features. You felt drawn to him. Until you finally drew him out. His snarky comments, his shameful teasing, the pure hatred in his eyes when you walked in the room. Lowering your walls was already hard enough to overcome, but letting in the hatred that spat from his lips wasn’t what you were expecting whatsoever.
You had always been sensitive to the harsh words and negativity thrown your way, but over time, you learned to block out his antics, keeping your calm personality you’ve built. Constantly reminding yourself of your strengths and the small acts of love received from those who truly mattered.
———
You walked into the gym, finally getting some alone time to work out in peace. Well, you thought you did.
There he was. Shirtless, lifting an overly weighted bar over his chest. You didn’t pass up the opportunity, letting your eyes travel down his toned abdomen. That didn’t last long, because as soon as your eyes met his, it felt like the air shifted completely. He was up within seconds, walking over to you. Great.
“Leave.” he practically growled.
You let out a scoff, setting your bag at one of the weight machines, “I didn’t know you owned the gym?” Your retort, your words dripping with annoyance. His eyes flash with just as much annoyance dripping in your tone. He takes a step towards you, his voice dropping an octave lower.
“I don't own the gym, but I make the rules here. And the rule is, you leave.”
You roll your eyes, grabbing spare weights placing them on the bar. Does he hear how stupid he sounds? Like actually. What kind of comeback is that? “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to try and boss me around.” your tone is calm, you didn’t want him to think he can get under your skin so easily, and you surely didn’t want to provoke him. You weren’t mentally prepared for another unnecessary argument. You simply throw your headphones on, not wanting to hear any more of his ‘rules’.
You start your work out, pushing the heavy bar above your chest then slowly back down, letting your arms really feel the weight. Your music plays almost eardrum shattering loud, almost forgetting about Bucky.
Almost.
He finds himself watching how you smoothly handle the weight, his initial anger turning into something more... admiring. His usual sharp tongue stays silent for once, caught off guard by your calm defiance. Instead of chasing you out, he walks closer, deliberately trying to disturb your peaceful workout.
Pushing the bar above your chest a final time, you Finish your set. You glance up, looking into the mirror taking a double take as you see bucky standing too close for comfort. You lower your headphones, letting them fall around your neck before turning to face him. “Did you need something?” You ask, brows furrowing in confusion. You could already hear his sarcastic tone coming from a mile away.
"Need something?"
He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, still standing uncomfortably close. "I thought I already made it clear you weren't welcome here." Despite his harsh words, there's no real malice behind them now, just pure curiosity on how you'll react.
He wanted a reaction out of you, and you refused to let him get one.
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously as you abruptly change tactics, his usual confrontation tactic failing miserably. He uncrosses his arms, unsure how to proceed without getting a reaction out of you.
"So, what? You just gonna ignore me?"
You nod at him through the mirror, hands lingering on your headphones, “That exactly.” You say, sliding your headphones back on your head, starting your next set. As you take the weighted bar in your hands, the weight feels lighter than before, almost like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. That weight in question being, Bucky.
He eventually walks away, going back to his own workout. He looks…upset? Usually the two of you would be biting eachothers heads off, but now it’s, peaceful, almost too peaceful. The rest of your workout goes smoothly, no sharp remarks, no bickering, just peace. That’s how you liked it, well you thought you did. Something in the back of your mind, was screaming at you to go and talk to him. The other part telling you to leave him alone.
You began packing your bag back up, glancing over every so often at Bucky, his expression still a frown. Maybe you were too harsh? You leave the gym, taking a final glance at Bucky, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away.
Bucky’s head was spiraling just as much as yours, maybe even worse. He watched you pack your bag, your quiet, care free workout making him realize how much he feeds off of the arguments. He sees you look at him multiple times, your expression unreadable. He unconsciously unclenches his jaw when you finally leave, his frown deepening. He had always struggled with expressing his feelings, just as you did. Especially when it came to the person he found himself heavily drawn too. Instead of telling you how much you meant to him, he found himself teasing and picking on you. It was his way of getting your attention, but deep down, he knew it wasn't the best approach. He admired you from afar, wishing he could find the right words to show his affection.
———
A few hours later, you found yourself rummaging through the fridge for what felt like the hundredth time. Just as you reached out to grab something, the door closes almost catching your nose. “What the fuck.” You spat out, jerking your head back.
Once again, there he was. Leaning against the counter, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Language," he chastises lightly, his tone teasing rather than scolding. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an unreadable expression.
You roll your eyes opening the fridge again, grabbing a pre-made caeser salad Peter picked up for you at the deli. “Do you ever get tired?” you ask, opening the salad, taking a bite.
“Of what?”
“Being a pain in my ass.” you retort, chuckling softly.
He laughs unexpectedly, throwing his head back slightly. "No," he answers simply, uncrossing his arms. He watches you eat, his smirk softening. "You know what's funny?" He adds suddenly. "You never seem to snap at me anymore." He watches your expression shift, mesmerized by your beautiful features. "You're always calm," He points out thoughtfully, his voice lower than usual. "Like nothing gets to you."
He unconsciously mirrors your action, leaning back against the counter again.
"Do you ever get mad?"
Instead of finding a healthy way to communicate, you often let her frustration and anger take over. You would lash out at those around you, even when they had done nothing wrong. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" You snapped at your friend, who was only trying to help. It was your way of coping, but it left you feeling isolated and misunderstood.
You set your fork down, suddenly losing your appetite. “Not really, you don’t get under my skin as much as you think you do.” you say, sliding the bowl towards him.
He raises an eyebrow, taking the bowl from you and sitting on the counter instead. He starts eating the salad, his mind reeling with questions. "So you're telling me that none of my jokes, or pranks, or constant bickering bothers you?" He asks incredulously.
You shake your head, leaning further against the counter. “I like to think you just like me so much, the only way you think you can talk to me is through those insults.” you reply calmly, knowing just how to get under his skin. You can see his jaw tighten slightly, though there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes at your calm confidence.
He swallows a bite hurriedly, trying to maintain his composure. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?
“You didn’t deny it.”
For a split second, his eyes darken with something more than his usual teasing - a mix of frustration and awareness. Then he covers it with a smirk, "Just because I don't deny something doesn't mean it's true," he says.
“Well it stands, till denied.”
He chuckles, taking another bite before speaking. "Fine, I'll deny it. I don't like you, and I only talk to you through insults because I hate your calm, annoying personality." He says, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Your lips curl into a grin, “Lying is a sin Barnes.” you retort, a full smile on your lips now.
He rolls his eyes, but he can't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Every time you smiled, it was as if the world around him lit up. Your smile had a way of reaching your eyes, making them sparkle with a warmth that melted his heart.
“And what about you, huh? Always so perfect and put together.” He says, his eyes trailing over your face.
A quiet scoff leaves your lips, “No one’s perfect. Fake it till you make it.” you say, shrugging your shoulders.
His eyes narrow slightly at your words, a hint of vulnerability flashing in their depths before he masks it with a scowl. "Fake it till you make it, huh? Is that what you're doing with your whole perfect act?" He challenges, his tone a bit sharper than before.
You nod, eyes focusing anywhere but his, “yeah.” you coo, softly. Your tone wasn’t as playful anymore, it’s was vulnerable, it was...real.
This obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky.
His scowl deepens, his mind reeling with questions. He's crossed a line, he can tell by the way your voice has lost its usual teasing tone. He swallows hard, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you're really faking it. He can see it now - the way you won't look at him, the way your shoulders have tensed up. He's hit a nerve, and he hates that he feels a strange sense of satisfaction from it.
Before he could say anything, you jump off the counter. “Goodnight.” you say, before dissapearing to your room.
His jaw tightens as he watches you retreat, his mind racing. For the first time in a long time, he feels like an actual asshole. "Shit," he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. He knows he's hurt you, can feel it in his gut.
———
The sun came shining strong through your window, illuminating your face. Tossing and turning trying to avoid it, your eyes eventually flutter open taking in the light. You layed in bed longer than you usually would, finding yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to experience true love. The kind of love that made your heart race and your soul feel complete. You longed for someone who would understand you in ways no one else could, someone who would stand by your side through the highs and lows. You yearned for the gentle touch, the shared laughter, and the comforting silence that only one could bring. Finally getting up from the place you enjoyed most, you enter the kitchen pouring coffee into the mug Tony got you for Christmas. ‘Be Happy!’
How ironic.
Bucky hears the soft footsteps down the hall, his eyes watching as you enter the kitchen. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the tight lines around your mouth.
"Morning," He grunts softly, testing the waters.
You glance over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Mornin.” you coo, voice still gravely from sleep.
He nods, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary. He wants to say something, anything to break the tension between you two. But he's never been great with words, especially when it comes to emotional shit.
"You...uh...look tired."
A small chuckle leaves your lips, before taking a sip of the caffeinated drink. “Thanks.” you mumble, leaning against the counter. Your hair is a mess evident you just awoken, still in your pajama pants hanging low on your hips, paired with a black tank top. He looks you up and down, taking in the sleep-mussed hair, the worn-out pajamas, the way you lean against the counter. There's something about the picture that makes his chest tighten. He sets his own coffee down, moving to stand next to you.
"You okay?"
You nod mimicking his movements, “Yeah, not really a morning person.” Lie. You loved the mornings, just not particularly…this morning. Something about last night hit a nerve, shifting your whole mood. He raises an eyebrow at that, his gaze lingering on your face. He knows a lie when he sees one, and right now, you're practically screaming it. "Liar," he says bluntly, his voice low. "You love mornings. Always have."
Your eyes widen slightly, shocked he knew that. “Someone’s been paying attention, you’re only proving my point from last night.” you retort, taking a long sip of your coffee, loving the feeling of your body warming up.
He tenses at the mention of last night, his jaw clenched tight. He knows he fucked up, knows he hurt you with his careless words. "I'm sorry about last night," he says gruffly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"I was an asshole."
You simply brush it off shrugging your shoulders, “It’s fine.” you mutter. He frowns slightly at your dismissive shrug, knowing full well that 'fine' doesn't necessarily mean fine. He leans in a bit closer, trying to maintain eye contact. "It's not 'fine'. I was a prick, plain and simple. Didn't mean to make you feel like shit."
Your heart tightens at his words, an unfamiliar flutter making itself present. “It wasn’t you, just…not my day today.” You weren’t lying, although he was being a real ass last night, he wasn’t the full reason to your mood change.
He watches you closely, buying your excuse. He knows you're not a great liar - your nose wrinkles when you do it. "You hungry?" He asks instead, changing the subject. He's not an idiot, he knows there's something off about you today, but he won't push. You shake your head, setting your mug in the sink. “No, I’m gonna go shower. I’ll see you later Bucky.” You say before disappearing back to your room.
He watches you leave, a furrowed brow and a heavy heart. Something's definitely off with you, and it's bothering him more than he cares to admit. With a sigh, he turns back to the coffee maker, pouring himself another cup. He has a feeling he's going to need it.
———
An hour or so later you emerge to the living room, finding Bucky reading a book, settled comfortably on the sofa. You smile softly at him as he meets your eyes. Grabbing another caeser salad from the fridge, you open it immediately digging in. Thank god for Peter. He looks up from his book as you enter, his eyes following you as you move to the fridge. He watches as you pull out the salad, his eyebrow raising slightly. "That's the second one of those you've had in two days," he comments, setting his book aside.
You stuff another mouthful past your lips, shrugging your shoulders, “It’s so good.” you mumble, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.
He grins slightly, watching you eat. God, you're like a guy when you eat. No lady-like small bites for you. He watches your shoulders, seeing them tense up slightly. "You do this when you're stressed," he realizes softly.
“What?” You mutter.
"Eat like that."
Your eyes widen in shock once again, for someone who hates you, he sure notices a lot of small details. “Barnes if you didn’t pick with me every other day, I would think you’re in love with me” you say casually.
He almost chokes on his own saliva, shocked at your teasing tone. His face flushes slightly red, and he clears his throat roughly. "Fuck off," is his immediate response, trying to keep his voice casual, but his eyes betray him. "Just stating fact." He adds.
Your lips tug into a smirk, his response telling you everything you needed to know. “Once again, not denying it.” you retort, laughing softly.
He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You're delusional," he mutters, trying to play it cool. He hates that you can read him like an open book.
You coo a soft, almost sarcastic,“uh huh.” stuffing another bite of salad in your mouth. I gotta thank Peter when he gets here. Finally tossing the empty container, you make your way to the couch opening your own book to read, before putting on your headphones. The music is painfully loud, blasting John Wayne, just how you liked it.
He watches you from the corner of his eye, noticing your choice of music. Cigarettes after sex- predictable. Then again, it suits you. His jaw ticks slightly at how damn cute you look with your headphones on. Focus, idiot. You're supposed to hate her.
The song plays peacefully through your ears, the soft singing easing all your thoughts. You glance up at Bucky to find him already looking at you. offering a warm smile before returning back to reading your book.
He catches your smile, feeling his heart skip a beat and internally curses himself. Your warm smile does something to him, things he can't fucking ignore anymore. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, then abruptly stands. "I'm going for a run," he mutters, grabbing his coat.
You look up at him, a confused expression all over your face. “It’s raining…? Just wait, I’ll go with you.” you mutter, jogging to get your own coat. It’s not like you had anything better to do.
He nearly tells you to stay inside, but seeing your determined expression stops him. Instead, he tightens his jaw, trying to ignore how his heart does that stupid flutter thing again. "It's fucking pouring," he argues, partly hoping you'd change your mind. "You'll get soaked."
You roll your eyes in response as you slide your coat on, “So will you, someone has to make sure you don’t slip.”
He scoffs, but secretly smiles at your stubbornness. God, why does she have to be so- fuck, stop thinking like that. "I'm not some damsel in distress," he grumbles, stepping out into the rain.
“Sure act like one.”
He hears your whispered comment and his eyes narrow slightly. He's about to retort when he realizes the cold rain is seeping into his bones. Fucking hell. He quickens his pace, hoping to get this over with. "Just keep up," he calls back, his voice muffled by the rain.
“Yeah, yeah.” you mumble, jogging not too far behind him. You can hear his hushed ‘hurry ups’ so you quicken your pace reaching him, just as you do you miss a step almost tripping. You close your eyes preparing for the fall.
Without thinking, Bucky's hand shoots out reflexively, catching you before you face-plant onto the slick pavement. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you steady against him as rain pouring down both of you. He blinks, momentarily stunned by how perfectly you fit against him.
Your arms wrap around his body instinctively, the rain pouring down soaking your hair. His arms wrapped protectively around you make your heart flutter, “Thank you.” you whisper, faces inches from his.
They found themselves wrapped in each other's embrace, completely unaware of the feelings that had blossomed between them. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held on tightly, seeking warmth and comfort in each other's arms. The rain soaked through their clothes, but they didn't mind; the closeness they shared was all that mattered. They looked into each other's eyes, feeling a connection that words couldn't describe, yet neither of them realized that was love.
Bucky's breath catches in his throat, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. The rain pounds around you both, but he barely notices, captivated by your proximity. His grip on you loosens slightly, yet he doesn't pull away. "Careful," he murmurs, his voice rough. You nod, pulling away from his embrace. As soon as you do, you regretted it. His touch is warm, fitting, nearly perfect.
“We should go back, if I get sick, I’m gonna kill you.”
Bucky can't help but smirk at your words, despite the cold biting into him. He falls into step beside you as you both head back, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, blame it on me if you catch a cold,"
You snort out a laugh, placing your hands in your own pockets. “Oh I will.”
———
You prayed you didn’t get sick, really prayed. But with your luck, it was bound to happen. The next day, you woke up chest burning, and nose stuffy.
“I’m gonna kill him.” You mumble, a cough following.
Bucky on the other hand was perfectly fine, not an single thing wrong with him. He was heading to the kitchen for a snack, but stopped abruptly hearing coughing down the hall. He freezes, listening intently. "Shit," he mutters, spinning on his heels, heading towards your room. He tiptoes to your door, pushing it open slightly. As the door opens, you’re already looking at him, standing there, your face flushed red and your eyes watery from constant sniffles. Irritation written all over your face. He crosses his arms, trying to look stern. "You sound terrible," he states, his tone unintentionally softening slightly.
You shake your head, walking closer to him, “Thanks.” you mumble, pushing him aside so you can open the door. You enter the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water immediately taking a long sip.
He watches you grab a bottle of water, only to have to suppress a smirk as you stagger past him, clearly irritated. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he observes your attempt to hydrate dramatically.
"Feel better?"
You send him a glare, before setting the water down. “If I had the energy, I would -makes a stabbing motion- you right here.” you say, before flopping on the sofa, curling into a ball. He chuckles at the threatened gesture, finding it hard to stay annoyed at you when you're sick and grumpy like this. He sits down beside you on the sofa, turning on the TV to distract himself from your miserable presence.
"You're so dramatic when you're sick,"
You roll your eyes, if it wasn’t for his little dramatic episode you wouldn’t be sick. You reach for your headphones instead met with air, you curse softly under your breath. “Can you go to my room, and grab my headphones, please?” you coo, sweetly.
He raises an eyebrow at the sudden sweet tone, knowing full well you're buttering him up to get what you want. He gets up reluctantly, heading to your room to fetch the headphones. He returns a minute later, tossing them onto your lap. "Here," You catch them, swiftly putting them on.
“Thanks hun.”
Bucky blinks, momentarily taken aback by the endearment slipping so casually from your lips. A faint blush creeps up his neck, quickly masked by a scowl. He flops back down on the couch, stretching his legs out. "Yeah, whatever,"
You hum to the song, immediately feeling better, eyes glancing at Bucky every so often.
Ever since that day in the rain, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he held you, how he looked at you, something about it had your head spinning and you’re slowly getting dizzier and dizzier. It was in the quiet moments, the ones where words weren't needed, that you finally realized your feelings. As they sat together in comfortable silence, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. It was the way he understood you without needing explanations, the way his presence alone could calm your restless mind. In that moment, you knew that what you felt went beyond friendship or admiration—it was love.
As you continue to glance at him, Bucky starts to notice. He catches your gaze a few times, furrowing his brow in confusion. After a while, he reaches out and gently removes your headphones, setting them aside. "Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale."
You nod, despite the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Maybe it wasn’t just your head getting dizzy…you rush to the bathroom, throwing up everything but those damn feelings. A few minutes later, you returned back to the living room, flopping on the couch. He watches you rush to the bathroom and return looking worse than before. He sits up straight, his brows furrowing in concern. "You're still sick," he states the obvious, reaching for the remote to pause the TV.
You groan, looking up at him. “No shit, captain obvious.” you retort.
He ignores the sarcastic remark, his mind more focused on the fact that you look worse by the minute. He gets up, standing over you. "You need to drink more," he insists, heading to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. For the first time, you comply sitting up against the sofa. You take the water bottle from his hands, taking slow sips.
“Thank you.”
He freezes slightly at your genuine 'thank you'. He's so used to your snarky remarks that this catches him off guard. He watches you carefully, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your faded complexion. "You hungry?" He asks softly. "Like, actual food?"
You nod, another unfamiliar flutter in your chest. You’ve must of got it bad, the sickness is affecting your heart. Right?
He nods, pleased with your response. It's a small victory, but he'll take it. He heads to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. After a moment, he emerges with a bowl of soup and some crackers. "Chicken noodle, okay?" Your eyes light up, the warm soup clouding your senses. “I think you’re going soft on me Bucky.” you say, your words dripping with sarcasm. You raise the spoon full of warm broth to your lips, quietly sipping it. Your body immediately relaxing.
He rolls his eyes at your teasing remark, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't get used to it," he mutters, watching you sip the soup. Seeing you relax, even slightly, brings an unexpected warmth to his chest. "It's just soup."
It’s more than just soup, the thoughtfulness behind it warming your heart, he’ll never truly know how much this meant to you. You eat slower than usual, savoring the broth, the taste making you feel all cozy inside. As you eat, Bucky settles back onto the couch, his gaze lingering on you. He tells himself it's just because he's making sure you eat, nothing more.
You glance at Bucky catching his baby blues staring, you squint your eyes at him, “Do I have something on my face?” you say, as he practically stares into your soul, it’s kind of sweet actually.
He quickly looks away, running a hand through his hair. "No... just making sure you're actually eating." He tries to play it cool, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. "You're usually not this quiet." He adds, trying to break the unusual silence.
Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, since when did he care? And why is it making you feel all warm inside. Are you gonna die? “I’m usually not sick, but thanks to somebody.” you mumble playfully.
His smirk returns at your mumbling, he can't help but feel a strange warmth at the fact that you're blaming him for your sickness. "Yeah, yeah, blame the guy taking care of you." He teases back, leaning against the armrest. You smile softly, picking the almost empty bowl up in your hands, placing it in the kitchen. As you return you grab the remote out of Buckys grasp, changing it to a rom com.
Sick days equal Romantic Comedy’s. I don’t make the rules.
Bucky's eyes widen in surprise as you take the remote and change the channel. He watches as a cheesy rom-com starts playing, his initial annoyance quickly turning into a soft smile. "Seriously?" He asks, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Yup.” you reply, popping the ‘P’ dramatically before taking your seat next to Bucky on the sofa, trying to siphon his warmth.
Bucky shifts slightly as you snuggle up next to him, trying to ignore the sudden surge of warmth flooding through him. He clears his throat, looking away from the mushy scenes unfolding on screen. "You do realize these movies are all lies, right?"
You gasp turning to look at him, “Not cool Barnes, they’re real to me.”
He chuckles, his arm instinctively draping behind your body, resting on the sofa. "Oh, come on. You can't seriously believe in all that sappy love stuff, do you?" He asks, his voice a little softer as he looks down at you. You meet his gaze, pondering for a moment. You’ve never really seen it first hand, but you like to believe you’ll experience it one day. Cuddling, romantic dinners, taking care of eachother when you’re sick…kisses, chocolates for Valentine’s Day. You wanted all that sappy love stuff. “I do.” you say almost too soft.
His expression softens slightly as he looks at you, seeing the dreamy look in your eyes. He swallows hard, pushing down the strange feeling in his chest. "You really believe in all that stuff? The grand gestures, the love at first sight, the happily ever after?"
You nod, “I never got see that sorta thing growing up, always made me wanna experience it.” you admit, feeling a bit too vulnerable around him.
Something inside him shifts at your vulnerability, the way you talk about something you've never even had. He suddenly feels a strong urge to protect you from every hurt in the world. He really needed to get it together. "What kind of fucked up place did you grow up in that you didn't even see people in love?"
“My home.”
You sat quietly in the corner, watching as your parents argued yet again. The harsh words and raised voices filled the room, creating an atmosphere thick with tension. You longed to see them show the love they once had for each other, to witness a simple hug or a gentle kiss. Instead, they avoided each other's gaze, their interactions cold and distant. It broke your heart to see the people who were supposed to be her role models in love and unity drift further apart with each passing day. You wished they could remember the warmth and affection they once shared, instead of letting anger and resentment take over.
His expression immediately turns serious, voice dropping to a gentle rumble as he realizes he struck a nerve. "Hey..." He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. The concern in his gaze is stark. "Bad enough you're sick. Stop giving me those sad eyes, doll.” A weak laugh slips from your lips, soaking in the comfort of his hand resting on your chin comfortably.
His thumb caresses your jaw unconsciously. He realizes how soft your skin is, how small your face is compared to his large palm. "So, wait..." He hesitates, trying to word his question carefully. "No one ever showed you what real love was?" He asks softly.
You shake your head, “It’s not just that, my parents never really showed their love for eachother. They didn’t kiss, hug, hell…they barely even talked to eachother. It affected me heavily growing up, I couldn’t even stay in a relationship. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the person I was with, I just didn’t know how to show them.” The confession was enough to fully break the walls you’ve built, it hurt. In another sense you felt relieved, relieved you could finally open up to somebody. To tell them what you were feeling without being afraid how they’ll react.
His heart clenches painfully at your words, a fierce protectiveness rising inside him. No wonder you're so closed off. No one ever showed you what love could be. He wants to be the one to show you, to break through those walls you've built up. What if he was.
"That's..."
You cut him off with your own words, “Fucked up. I know.” you mutter, focusing back on the movie.
Bucky watches you for a long moment, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your profile. He realizes then, more than ever, how much you need those cheesy rom-coms. They're not just entertainment—they're a glimpse into the kind of love you've never known.
"Hey..."
He looks at you intently, his voice soft but firm. "You deserve better than what you've had. You deserve someone who'll make you laugh, who'll hold you when you're sick, who'll kiss you just because." You deserved him. The man who makes you laugh no matter what mood you’re in, the man who’s currently holding you while you’re sick, the man you wished lips were on yours instead of talking.
“You check off three of those boxes.”
His breath hitches at your words, his heart racing in his chest. He looks at you, really looks at you, and sees the vulnerability in your eyes, the longing. Without thinking, he leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "And the fourth?"
Your breath catches in your throat, your free hand subconsciously moving to his jaw. “Hasn’t been checked off yet.” you whisper, leaning in just enough to feel his breath against your lips. His eyes flick down to your lips, his own parting slightly. He can feel your warm breath mixing with his, can see the way your pupils dilate. Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull back, he closes the distance between you.
"Let me check it off for you."
You had spent years keeping your emotions locked away, convinced that love was something you could never truly have. But in that moment, love came into your life, patient and kind, completely breaking down the walls you had built around your heart. For the first time, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, realizing that you had finally found the love you had yearned for.
Stomping through the snowy path, towards the Hydra base alongside Steve Rogers. You hated this man. You truly did. You hated how much you were drawn to him. You hated how much he got under your skin. You especially hated how much you, didn’t hate him. Tony assigned both of you to go on the mission together, it was no doubt you guys worked perfectly together but the bickering got in between that. He always had something negative to say, “C’mon keep up, you’re slowing me down.” he says, glancing back at you. You were only a few steps behind him, despite the cold not having an affect on you, you still grew tired from walking such a long distance. “Yeah, yeah.” you mumble catching up to him. As you approached the base you instantly felt something was off, the air seemed to freeze completely around the both of you. The sound of wind hushing stopped, an ambush. “Steve…wait.” you whisper.
Steve stops abruptly, his senses on high alert as he scans their surroundings. He can feel it too, an eerie silence that doesn't sit right. As he turns to look at you, his expression is serious. "What is it?" he asks quietly, his eyes never leaving yours.
The soft crunching of snow made your body tense up, your eyes meet his with urgency, “We have to go back, this doesn’t feel right.” You say keeping your voice hushed. You can feel the shift in movement around you, making your head spin in different directions. Steve's instincts kick in, mirroring your unease. He slowly starts to backtrack, his hand reaching for his shield on his back. "You're right..." He whispers, his eyes darting around the frozen landscape.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them erupts. the snow explodes around you two. Ice shards fly everywhere, narrowly missing you both. Hydra soldiers emerge from hidden tunnels, surrounding you. "Dammit," Steve mutters, pulling his shield off his back. He throws it effortlessly, knocking one soldier unconscious.
Your heartbeat picks up, the two of you are no match for the amount of soldiers surrounding. “Duck.” With that you send ice shards into as many soldiers as you could before grabbing Steve’s arm, pulling him behind a bush. “We have to retreat, there’s too many of them.”
Steve follows your lead, ducking behind the bush just as a barrage of bullets whizzes by where you were standing. "You're right," he grunts, peeking through the leaves to assess the situation. The soldiers are closing in, their boots crunching on the frozen ground. You nod trying to come up with a plan to leave safely. “When I say run, sprint as fast as you can.” You whisper, he tries to argue but it’s no use.
Your eyes contort to a glowing ice blue. shit. shit. shit. Popping up from behind the bush, you manipulate the ice below the soldiers, sending ice like shards through their bodies. “Run!” Steve grabs you, sprinting as fast as he can. You arrive at an old cabin. Steve kicks open the cabin door, pulling both of you inside the darkened interior. The old smell of wood and ash hitting your senses immediately. He slams the door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. His eyes widen as he notices your ice-blue glowing eyes fading away.
"What the hell was that back there?"
You fall onto the old sofa, chest heaving. “Saving your ass.” you breathe, still trying to catch your breath.
Steve lets out a short, incredulous chuckle despite the dire situation. He pushes off from the door and strides over to the sofa, lowering himself to sit beside you. His gaze is searching, eyebrows furrowed with concern and lingering awe from the display of your powers. "Literally,"
There’s a few moments of silence, comfortable silence at that, before you spoke up, “We can hide in here for a while then head back to the quinjet.” You say, standing up, you open the heavy curtain on the window and your jaw drops. The snow completely covered it, “no…” you mumble under your breath. You try to open the door but it’s shut closed, We’re trapped.
In an instant, he's by your side, concern etched deeply in his features. He tries to push the door open himself, his muscles flexing with effort. It doesn't budge. "Trapped," he says grimly, running a hand through his hair.
Your jaw tightens, “fucking great.” you mutter, taking a seat back on the sofa. “Is your com still working?”
"Yeah," He pats his communicator, then presses the button. "This is Rogers. Anyone read?" Static answers him. He tries again, lower voice laced with worry. "Tony? Natasha? Anyone?" Still static. He drops down on the coffee table facing you, his brows furrowed. You groan knowing you’re really trapped now. “The snow should pass over, I can try to move it but it looks like there’s a lot out there, it’ll take hours.”
Steve nods, looking grim but determined. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considers the situation. "Hours might be a problem. Those soldiers weren't far behind us, and they'll likely follow the tracks." He glances around the cabin, mentally cataloging potential weapons or defensive positions.
You nod, “I can cover our tracks, it’ll buy us some time.” Standing up from the sofa, you make your way over to the window once again. Focusing on the ice, you rise it a bit higher covering the foot prints.
Steve watches you work, impressed despite the dire circumstances. Once you've covered the tracks, he stands up and joins you by the window. He peers out into the blinding snowstorm, his breath fogging up the glass. "This storm is worse than I thought."
No shit Sherlock. “Are you cold?” you whisper, turning to look up at him. You can handle the cold, it’s practically pumping through your veins. But Steve? He can only sustain the temperature for so long.
"A little," He admits softly, his body language stiffening slightly, not wanting to show weakness. He's used to cold weather training…hell, he can sustain it for a lot longer than you probably could, but this storm is something else. He watches you, sees how unaffected you are by the temperature. "You're like a human ice cube," he jokes softly.
You smirk at his comment, giving him a playful slap to the chest before taking a seat on the sofa. “How long do you think you’ll last, till you freeze.” you ask, you meant in a joking manner but it came out a bit more serious than you intended. This is the longest conversation you and Steve had without arguing. Maybe it’s the predicament you’re currently in, not much room for arguing at the moment.
He sits down next to you, his gaze drifting to the window as he tries to estimate his endurance in this frigid environment. "A few hours." he says quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. Theres no source of heat in here, no fire, no blankets, nothing. He’ll be lucky if he can even go a few hours. He glances over at you, his expression, almost thoughtful.
You inch closer to his embrace, trying to provide some kind of warmth. “I know you would rather be anywhere but here…but this is the best option if you don’t want to freeze.” You mumble, scooting closer.
He tenses briefly, then relaxes into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you to share what little warmth he has left. He rests his chin on top of your head, inhaling the faint scent that's uniquely yours. "This is torture," he mutters softly.
You chuckle softly, “A couple hours, that’s all. Then we can get the hell out of here.” You whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you even closer. He knows he should push you away, but the cold is sapping his strength and resolve. He rests his head against yours, his voice barely audible.
"And then what? Back to hating each other?"
You shrug in his arms, “That’s usually how it goes.” you mutter, You never understood why he hated you. The constant picking on you, the hushed retorts. You certainly don’t hate him, but god…does he make it hard to like him. He sighs, his breath visible in the cold air. For a moment, he's silent, mulling over your words and the irony of their situation. Here they are, stranded together in a freezing cabin, pretending to tolerate each other for survival.
An hour or so passes and you practically can feel Steve shaking in your arms. “Steve, you okay?” you whisper, looking up at him. His lip is quivering ever so slightly, and his face is flushed.
He looks down at you, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. "F-fine," he stutters, trying to hide the shiver that wracks his body. He knows he's reaching his limit, the cold seeping into his bones and sapping his strength. Before you could think, you straddle his lap facing him. “Just…relax.” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace.
The heat of your body against his instantly warms him, but the gesture catches him completely off guard. He sits frozen - literally and figuratively - surprised by your sudden closeness. His hands automatically go to your waist to steady himself. "What are you doing?"
“Trying to keep you alive.” you mumble into his neck, accidentally rolling your hips against his trying to sit comfortably on his lap, not realizing exactly what you just did.
His heart hammers against his chest as he realizes the position you've put him in. His face is pressed against your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling the warmth of your body. He can feel your hips against his, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to react. You shift uncomfortably on his lap, hips rolling against his. You would think sitting on his lap would be a bit more comfortable, it felt like sitting on a brick.
He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the uncomfortable yet strangely pleasant sensation of your hips against his. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Stop moving," he mutters, his voice strained.
You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. You didn’t mean to…? “Sorry.” you breathe out, your breath warm against his chilling neck. He suppresses a shudder, not from cold this time, but from the feeling of your breath so close to his sensitive neck. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly.
"It's fine," he gruffs out, though his rigid posture suggests otherwise.
You swear you weren’t doing it on purpose, but couldn’t help shifting again, his hold around your waist getting uncomfortably tight. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death Rogers.” you mutter, rolling your hips against his once again.
His breath catches audibly in his throat at the movement, his usually controlled demeanor beginning to crack. "Would you stop-" But he can't finish the sentence, your movement has made something very evident through his layers of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath. Your heart stops beating for a moment, is he seriously? “Steve.” you retort, pulling away from his neck to meet his eyes.
His eyes lock with yours, filled with an unreadable expression - a mix of anger, frustration, and something else he refuses to acknowledge. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. "You're doing it on purpose," he accuses, his voice low and gravelly.
You scoff, resting your hand on his chest. Is he fucking serious? “I am not doing anything.” you retort back.
His hand moves from your waist to your hip, applying the slightest bit of pressure to keep you still. "Bullshit," he mutters, his face inches from yours. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath your touch. "Do you even realize where-" But he stops himself, jaw clenched.
So much for not arguing. “Yeah? tell me what I’m doing, that’s supposedly on purpose.” Something in your tone changed, your voice was low, almost seductive. You slide your hand from his chest to the back of his neck, seeing the small hairs stand up.
His breath catches at your touch on his neck, muscles tensing. "You're- Fuck," he swears quietly, gripping your hip firmly. "You're sitting on my lap, moving around like..." He trails off, unable to finish the thought.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
Your eyes widen slightly, realizing what he’s implying. “You think I’m purposely trying to ride you or something?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.
His eyebrows furrow as he stares at you incredulously. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to think when your hips are basically grinding against-" He stops abruptly, realizing how loud his voice has gotten. Clearing his throat, he stops noticing a smirk creep onto your lips. you’re having an effect on him, and he knows it. Your eyes glance to the very evident bulge in his pants, before meeting his eyes once again.
His eyes watch your gaze flick downwards, his jaw tightening again. "Goddammit," he mutters softly, his voice lower than before. Your smirk making him suspicious. His eyes flick down to your lips briefly. "Are you-" He swallows hard. You cut off his words, rolling your hips against his with urgency. “Oh like this?” you retort sarcastically.
His eyes snap down to where your body moves against his. "Shit," he mutters quietly, watching your hips. "That's not an answer," he grits out, trying his best to ignore the sensation between his legs. "And stop moving," he adds sharply. Despite his efforts telling you to stop, You simply nod slowing your movements, but not stopping them.
Steve's nostrils flare as he takes a shuddering breath, fists clenching at his sides. "I said stop moving," he repeats, his voice strained with barely suppressed frustration - and something else entirely. His hips involuntarily jerk upwards, betraying his body's reaction. The sudden movement, catches you off guard completely. A soft moan slipping from your lips.
He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he realizes what just happened. His eyes snap back up to meet yours, seeing the soft, needy sound that escaped your lips. His gaze locks onto yours, the air thick with tension. "Don’t," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.
You stop your teasing, almost embarrassed at the sound that left your lips. “Sorry.” you whisper resting both of your hands on his chest, trying to steady yourself. His muscles flex beneath your hands, chest heaving. The word "Sorry" catches in his throat as he stares at your lips again, remembering how they just forming around that delicate moan. "Just shut u-" He catches himself, jaw clenching.
"Don't stop moving."
His words throw you for a loop, your brows furrowing in response hearing his low words. You roll your hips against his slowly, the friction feeling delicious. His eyes roll back slightly, head tipping back against the wall as he lets out a shaky breath. The movement is slow, but it's enough. His hips begin to move subtly, matching your roll with his own gentle thrusts. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, head still pressed against the wall.
His whispered words are enough to send heat straight to your core. You quicken your movements, grinding harsher against his hardness. He gasps sharply, one hand flying to grip your hip as his control slips. "Fuck, wait-" But his words dissolve into a low groan as you press against him more insistently. His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of that delicious heat rubbing against his aching cock.
Still grinding your hips, you lower your head catching his neck, leaving soft open mouth kisses along his jaw. His hips buck up hitting your clit perfectly, making you moan softly just below his ear. He inhales sharply, his body tensing as he feels your warm breath on his neck, those soft open-mouthed kisses driving him mad. His hips surge upward again, finding that perfect spot that makes you make those tiny needy sounds.
You wanted more, fuck that. You needed more.
“Steve…”
His name on your lips, broken and desperate like that, completely shatters his remaining control. One hand moves to grip your hair at the nape of your neck, the other squeezing your hip possessively. "God, stop moaning like that..."
You smirk, kissing just below his ear, softly nipping at the sensitive skin. “S’good Steve…just like that.” you coo in his ear.
His breath catches sharply as your voice, low and breathy, tickles his ear. He swallows a groan, realizing you're purposefully teasing him with words and touches. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he pants out, one eyebrow quirked despite his desperation. Just as the words leave his lips, his hips jerk up hitting your clit deliciously once again. “yes…!” you cry out.
A shudder runs through him at your shameless moan, his resolve cracking further. "Fuck, you're sexy when you're desperate," he growls, surprising himself with the dirty talk. His hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing and guiding your hips in tighter circles against him.
Pressing a hand against his chest, halting his movements. You climb off of his lap, pulling your tights down quickly. His eyes darken at the sight, you swore he drool a little. He pulls you back on his lap, letting out a whiny moan, the thin lace of your panties being the only barrier between you two. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands flying to your hips to pull you even closer, as if he can't get enough of the friction.
Making it apparent you couldn’t get enough, you lift your hips above his, hovering over his bulge. “Take them off.” you whisper, tilting his head up to look at you. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, filled with a heady mix of desire and surprise at your commanding tone. Without a word, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your bare, glistening core.
“You sure?”
You nod, reaching down unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling them down just enough to release his bulge evident in his boxers. “Look at you…” you whisper, breath catching at the sight. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, watching your confident movements. The way you're teasing him, handling him with such deliberate care, drives him crazy.
"Don't look at me like that..." he warns, though it comes out more like a plea than anything else. "It's making me..." His words trail off into a low groan as his cock bounces free, standing proud and hard between his thighs. He's never been so turned on in his life, and it's all because of the way you're looking at him, like he's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Unable to hold back any further, you rub his head through your slick folds. letting out a soft moan in responce. A low, deep sound escapes his throat at the feel of your wetness against his sensitive head. His hands dig into your hips, urging you on though he knows he should probably tell you to take it slow. "Shit..." his head falls back against the wall, eyes darkening with desire.
You hum in approval before teasing his head at your entrance, The obscene sound filling the room. His abs tighten as he fights back a thrust, watching you rub his head against your entrance, making his imagination run wild with images of sliding deep inside you. His hands flex on your hips, trying not to take control. "Baby..." He warns softly.
Without warning, you sink down onto his cock. The blissful pain flowing through your core, causing a whimpered moan to slip from your lips feeling him stretch you out deliciously. You sit still on his lap, letting your body adjust to his incredible size. “My god…” you whimper softly.
His back arches slightly at the sudden tight, wet heat. "Holy..." He swallows hard, hands flying to your thighs to spread them wider. He watches where you're connected, his thick length slowly disappearing inside you. He can feel every little movement you make, your inner muscles tightening around him. Slowly, you began riding him, your body moving upward and downwards at a perfect rhythm. His breath catches in his throat as you begin moving, the sensation unbelievable as your velvety walls squeeze him tightly. He watches in awe, hands stroking up and down your thighs, before sliding around to grip your ass, encouraging your rhythm.
"Fuck... Just like that,"
You nod in approval, chest heaving. Your pace quickens slowly but surely, the sound of skin clapping against each other, wet noise, and the smell distinctly of sex filling the quiet cabin.
His eyes roll back as he loses himself in the sight and feeling of you riding him. The sound of your wet pussy squeezing his cock, the way your breasts bounce with each movement, it's all too much. He lets out a string of curses, his hips bucking up to meet your downward motion.
You tighten your hold around his shoulders, breathe warm against his neck. You kiss, bite, lick gently on the delicate skin, leaving dark marks, letting out soft moans and whimpers here and there. He groans at the feeling on his neck, his large hands gripping your ass tightly as he thrusts up into you. The combination of your soft sounds and tight pussy is driving him wild. He can feel his orgasm building, his sac tightening as he gets closer and closer. He can your walls tighten around his length, making him twitch inside of you,
“I know you’re close…let go for me sweetheart.” You whisper, your voice is low, whiny…seductive in his ear.
Your seductive words and tight walls prove too much, sending him over the edge. With a low groan that seems to rumble through his entire body, he bursts, thick ropes of cum pumping deep inside you. His grip on your ass becomes almost bruising as spikes of pleasure course through him. You’re right behind him, his hot seed painting your walls, sending you right where you craved to be. Body shaking with pleasure, as your orgasm crashes through you.
He holds you tight, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rides out his climax, filling you to the brim with his release. When he finally starts to come down, he collapses back against the sofa, you still impaled on his softening length.
You chuckle softly, through a heavy breath. “Warmer now?” you say, grinding your hips slowly, riding out your high. He chuckles back, his strong arms around your waist, his fingers splaying out on your lower stomach possessively. "Much warmer," He murmurs, his hips twitching up into you gently, not ready to slip out just yet.
Letting your body rest on his for a few moments longer, you finally lift off of his lap, his release dripping down your thigh. “Oh, fuck.” you whimper. He looks down at the evidence of their passion dripping down your thigh, his release mingling with yours. He reaches out to hook his fingers around your thigh, pulling your leg over his lap again, keeping you close. "Damn..."
“Still hate me?”
He looks up at you with a smirk, his hand slowly trailing up and down your thigh while keeping your leg draped over his lap. "Only when you're being a brat," he jokes, squeezing your thigh gently. His eyes soften as he meets your gaze, a tender look passing between you both.
You laugh softly, leaning down to catch his lips. After all of that, you couldn’t believe you didn’t kiss him sooner. He returns the kiss, his arms wrapping around you again as if he never wants to let you go. When you finally break the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, holding you close. "I think I've been an idiot," he admits softly.
“Humor me, Rogers.”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Okay, smart-ass, maybe I've been more of an idiot than usual. Thinking I could hate you, when really..." He pauses, searching your eyes. "...when really, you drive me fucking crazy." He notices the subtle furrowing your brows,a confused glint shining in your stunning eyes. He swallows hard, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he tries to put his jumbled thoughts into words. "You make me angry, you make me laugh, you make me..." He trails off, his jaw clenching briefly.
“Spit it out Steve.”
He lets out a frustrated groan, running his free hand through his hair. "What I’m trying to say is...you make me want things I shouldn't. Like this," He gestures between you two with his hand on your thigh. "I shouldn't want to kiss you every damn second." He looks at you with a conflicted expression, his blue eyes searching yours. "I shouldn't want to protect you, to make you smile, to hear your laugh... I shouldn't want to be near you all the time." He takes a deep breath, his voice dropping to a softer tone.
Your hands trail up his body, stopping to caress his jaw gently, eyes never leaving his. “Why do you?”
His eyes flutter closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your hand. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely shows. "Because... because I think I'm falling for you." The words are barely a whisper, but they hang heavy in the air between you.
You crash your lips onto his, the kiss slower, messier, full of undeniable feelings. His hand moves up to grip your neck while the other pulls you closer, kissing you deeply. When you finally part, he rests his forehead against yours again, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Good, because I’ve already fallen.”
Growing up, you always felt a sense of detachment from those around you. Your parents were preoccupied with their own struggles, leaving you to navigate your emotions alone. As a result, you built walls around your heart, finding it easier to keep your feelings hidden rather than risk vulnerability. Friendships and relationships were challenging, as you often seemed distant and aloof. Despite your longing for connection, the fear of getting hurt kept you emotionally unavailable.
When you joined the avengers, you had a hard time connecting with the others. The first couple of weeks you were cooped up in your room keeping to yourself, often finding yourself reflecting on your past life, mirroring the experiences and emotions you once lived through. Whether it was the way you approached relationships or handled adversity, your past life served as a constant reminder and guide. This mirroring allowed you to draw strength from your history, using it as a foundation to build a better future while remaining deeply connected to your roots. Over time you slowly started to join the conversations, showed up at events, even staying for movie nights.
After years of feeling like you were constantly on edge, you finally found a sense of calm. The anxious thoughts began to quiet down, and you felt a newfound sense of control over your emotions. The once overwhelming stressors in your life seemed more manageable, and slowly you approached each day with a serene confidence, bringing a deep sense of inner peace you longed for.
That was until you met Bucky.
You truly didn’t have a problem with him, you found him almost intriguing. His cold demeanor, his attitude, his attractive features. You felt drawn to him. Until you finally drew him out. His snarky comments, his shameful teasing, the pure hatred in his eyes when you walked in the room. Lowering your walls was already hard enough to overcome, but letting in the hatred that spat from his lips wasn’t what you were expecting whatsoever.
You had always been sensitive to the harsh words and negativity thrown your way, but over time, you learned to block out his antics, keeping your calm personality you’ve built. Constantly reminding yourself of your strengths and the small acts of love received from those who truly mattered.
———
You walked into the gym, finally getting some alone time to work out in peace. Well, you thought you did.
There he was. Shirtless, lifting an overly weighted bar over his chest. You didn’t pass up the opportunity, letting your eyes travel down his toned abdomen. That didn’t last long, because as soon as your eyes met his, it felt like the air shifted completely. He was up within seconds, walking over to you. Great.
“Leave.” he practically growled.
You let out a scoff, setting your bag at one of the weight machines, “I didn’t know you owned the gym?” Your retort, your words dripping with annoyance. His eyes flash with just as much annoyance dripping in your tone. He takes a step towards you, his voice dropping an octave lower.
“I don't own the gym, but I make the rules here. And the rule is, you leave.”
You roll your eyes, grabbing spare weights placing them on the bar. Does he hear how stupid he sounds? Like actually. What kind of comeback is that? “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right to try and boss me around.” your tone is calm, you didn’t want him to think he can get under your skin so easily, and you surely didn’t want to provoke him. You weren’t mentally prepared for another unnecessary argument. You simply throw your headphones on, not wanting to hear any more of his ‘rules’.
You start your work out, pushing the heavy bar above your chest then slowly back down, letting your arms really feel the weight. Your music plays almost eardrum shattering loud, almost forgetting about Bucky.
Almost.
He finds himself watching how you smoothly handle the weight, his initial anger turning into something more... admiring. His usual sharp tongue stays silent for once, caught off guard by your calm defiance. Instead of chasing you out, he walks closer, deliberately trying to disturb your peaceful workout.
Pushing the bar above your chest a final time, you Finish your set. You glance up, looking into the mirror taking a double take as you see bucky standing too close for comfort. You lower your headphones, letting them fall around your neck before turning to face him. “Did you need something?” You ask, brows furrowing in confusion. You could already hear his sarcastic tone coming from a mile away.
"Need something?"
He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest, still standing uncomfortably close. "I thought I already made it clear you weren't welcome here." Despite his harsh words, there's no real malice behind them now, just pure curiosity on how you'll react.
He wanted a reaction out of you, and you refused to let him get one.
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
Bucky narrows his eyes suspiciously as you abruptly change tactics, his usual confrontation tactic failing miserably. He uncrosses his arms, unsure how to proceed without getting a reaction out of you.
"So, what? You just gonna ignore me?"
You nod at him through the mirror, hands lingering on your headphones, “That exactly.” You say, sliding your headphones back on your head, starting your next set. As you take the weighted bar in your hands, the weight feels lighter than before, almost like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. That weight in question being, Bucky.
He eventually walks away, going back to his own workout. He looks…upset? Usually the two of you would be biting eachothers heads off, but now it’s, peaceful, almost too peaceful. The rest of your workout goes smoothly, no sharp remarks, no bickering, just peace. That’s how you liked it, well you thought you did. Something in the back of your mind, was screaming at you to go and talk to him. The other part telling you to leave him alone.
You began packing your bag back up, glancing over every so often at Bucky, his expression still a frown. Maybe you were too harsh? You leave the gym, taking a final glance at Bucky, his eyes meeting yours briefly before looking away.
Bucky’s head was spiraling just as much as yours, maybe even worse. He watched you pack your bag, your quiet, care free workout making him realize how much he feeds off of the arguments. He sees you look at him multiple times, your expression unreadable. He unconsciously unclenches his jaw when you finally leave, his frown deepening. He had always struggled with expressing his feelings, just as you did. Especially when it came to the person he found himself heavily drawn too. Instead of telling you how much you meant to him, he found himself teasing and picking on you. It was his way of getting your attention, but deep down, he knew it wasn't the best approach. He admired you from afar, wishing he could find the right words to show his affection.
———
A few hours later, you found yourself rummaging through the fridge for what felt like the hundredth time. Just as you reached out to grab something, the door closes almost catching your nose. “What the fuck.” You spat out, jerking your head back.
Once again, there he was. Leaning against the counter, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. "Language," he chastises lightly, his tone teasing rather than scolding. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an unreadable expression.
You roll your eyes opening the fridge again, grabbing a pre-made caeser salad Peter picked up for you at the deli. “Do you ever get tired?” you ask, opening the salad, taking a bite.
“Of what?”
“Being a pain in my ass.” you retort, chuckling softly.
He laughs unexpectedly, throwing his head back slightly. "No," he answers simply, uncrossing his arms. He watches you eat, his smirk softening. "You know what's funny?" He adds suddenly. "You never seem to snap at me anymore." He watches your expression shift, mesmerized by your beautiful features. "You're always calm," He points out thoughtfully, his voice lower than usual. "Like nothing gets to you."
He unconsciously mirrors your action, leaning back against the counter again.
"Do you ever get mad?"
Instead of finding a healthy way to communicate, you often let her frustration and anger take over. You would lash out at those around you, even when they had done nothing wrong. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" You snapped at your friend, who was only trying to help. It was your way of coping, but it left you feeling isolated and misunderstood.
You set your fork down, suddenly losing your appetite. “Not really, you don’t get under my skin as much as you think you do.” you say, sliding the bowl towards him.
He raises an eyebrow, taking the bowl from you and sitting on the counter instead. He starts eating the salad, his mind reeling with questions. "So you're telling me that none of my jokes, or pranks, or constant bickering bothers you?" He asks incredulously.
You shake your head, leaning further against the counter. “I like to think you just like me so much, the only way you think you can talk to me is through those insults.” you reply calmly, knowing just how to get under his skin. You can see his jaw tighten slightly, though there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes at your calm confidence.
He swallows a bite hurriedly, trying to maintain his composure. "You think you've got me all figured out, don't you?
“You didn’t deny it.”
For a split second, his eyes darken with something more than his usual teasing - a mix of frustration and awareness. Then he covers it with a smirk, "Just because I don't deny something doesn't mean it's true," he says.
“Well it stands, till denied.”
He chuckles, taking another bite before speaking. "Fine, I'll deny it. I don't like you, and I only talk to you through insults because I hate your calm, annoying personality." He says, his voice laced with sarcasm.
Your lips curl into a grin, “Lying is a sin Barnes.” you retort, a full smile on your lips now.
He rolls his eyes, but he can't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Every time you smiled, it was as if the world around him lit up. Your smile had a way of reaching your eyes, making them sparkle with a warmth that melted his heart.
“And what about you, huh? Always so perfect and put together.” He says, his eyes trailing over your face.
A quiet scoff leaves your lips, “No one’s perfect. Fake it till you make it.” you say, shrugging your shoulders.
His eyes narrow slightly at your words, a hint of vulnerability flashing in their depths before he masks it with a scowl. "Fake it till you make it, huh? Is that what you're doing with your whole perfect act?" He challenges, his tone a bit sharper than before.
You nod, eyes focusing anywhere but his, “yeah.” you coo, softly. Your tone wasn’t as playful anymore, it’s was vulnerable, it was...real.
This obviously didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky.
His scowl deepens, his mind reeling with questions. He's crossed a line, he can tell by the way your voice has lost its usual teasing tone. He swallows hard, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you're really faking it. He can see it now - the way you won't look at him, the way your shoulders have tensed up. He's hit a nerve, and he hates that he feels a strange sense of satisfaction from it.
Before he could say anything, you jump off the counter. “Goodnight.” you say, before dissapearing to your room.
His jaw tightens as he watches you retreat, his mind racing. For the first time in a long time, he feels like an actual asshole. "Shit," he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair. He knows he's hurt you, can feel it in his gut.
———
The sun came shining strong through your window, illuminating your face. Tossing and turning trying to avoid it, your eyes eventually flutter open taking in the light. You layed in bed longer than you usually would, finding yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to experience true love. The kind of love that made your heart race and your soul feel complete. You longed for someone who would understand you in ways no one else could, someone who would stand by your side through the highs and lows. You yearned for the gentle touch, the shared laughter, and the comforting silence that only one could bring. Finally getting up from the place you enjoyed most, you enter the kitchen pouring coffee into the mug Tony got you for Christmas. ‘Be Happy!’
How ironic.
Bucky hears the soft footsteps down the hall, his eyes watching as you enter the kitchen. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the tight lines around your mouth.
"Morning," He grunts softly, testing the waters.
You glance over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Mornin.” you coo, voice still gravely from sleep.
He nods, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary. He wants to say something, anything to break the tension between you two. But he's never been great with words, especially when it comes to emotional shit.
"You...uh...look tired."
A small chuckle leaves your lips, before taking a sip of the caffeinated drink. “Thanks.” you mumble, leaning against the counter. Your hair is a mess evident you just awoken, still in your pajama pants hanging low on your hips, paired with a black tank top. He looks you up and down, taking in the sleep-mussed hair, the worn-out pajamas, the way you lean against the counter. There's something about the picture that makes his chest tighten. He sets his own coffee down, moving to stand next to you.
"You okay?"
You nod mimicking his movements, “Yeah, not really a morning person.” Lie. You loved the mornings, just not particularly…this morning. Something about last night hit a nerve, shifting your whole mood. He raises an eyebrow at that, his gaze lingering on your face. He knows a lie when he sees one, and right now, you're practically screaming it. "Liar," he says bluntly, his voice low. "You love mornings. Always have."
Your eyes widen slightly, shocked he knew that. “Someone’s been paying attention, you’re only proving my point from last night.” you retort, taking a long sip of your coffee, loving the feeling of your body warming up.
He tenses at the mention of last night, his jaw clenched tight. He knows he fucked up, knows he hurt you with his careless words. "I'm sorry about last night," he says gruffly, his eyes never leaving yours.
"I was an asshole."
You simply brush it off shrugging your shoulders, “It’s fine.” you mutter. He frowns slightly at your dismissive shrug, knowing full well that 'fine' doesn't necessarily mean fine. He leans in a bit closer, trying to maintain eye contact. "It's not 'fine'. I was a prick, plain and simple. Didn't mean to make you feel like shit."
Your heart tightens at his words, an unfamiliar flutter making itself present. “It wasn’t you, just…not my day today.” You weren’t lying, although he was being a real ass last night, he wasn’t the full reason to your mood change.
He watches you closely, buying your excuse. He knows you're not a great liar - your nose wrinkles when you do it. "You hungry?" He asks instead, changing the subject. He's not an idiot, he knows there's something off about you today, but he won't push. You shake your head, setting your mug in the sink. “No, I’m gonna go shower. I’ll see you later Bucky.” You say before disappearing back to your room.
He watches you leave, a furrowed brow and a heavy heart. Something's definitely off with you, and it's bothering him more than he cares to admit. With a sigh, he turns back to the coffee maker, pouring himself another cup. He has a feeling he's going to need it.
———
An hour or so later you emerge to the living room, finding Bucky reading a book, settled comfortably on the sofa. You smile softly at him as he meets your eyes. Grabbing another caeser salad from the fridge, you open it immediately digging in. Thank god for Peter. He looks up from his book as you enter, his eyes following you as you move to the fridge. He watches as you pull out the salad, his eyebrow raising slightly. "That's the second one of those you've had in two days," he comments, setting his book aside.
You stuff another mouthful past your lips, shrugging your shoulders, “It’s so good.” you mumble, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.
He grins slightly, watching you eat. God, you're like a guy when you eat. No lady-like small bites for you. He watches your shoulders, seeing them tense up slightly. "You do this when you're stressed," he realizes softly.
“What?” You mutter.
"Eat like that."
Your eyes widen in shock once again, for someone who hates you, he sure notices a lot of small details. “Barnes if you didn’t pick with me every other day, I would think you’re in love with me” you say casually.
He almost chokes on his own saliva, shocked at your teasing tone. His face flushes slightly red, and he clears his throat roughly. "Fuck off," is his immediate response, trying to keep his voice casual, but his eyes betray him. "Just stating fact." He adds.
Your lips tug into a smirk, his response telling you everything you needed to know. “Once again, not denying it.” you retort, laughing softly.
He rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You're delusional," he mutters, trying to play it cool. He hates that you can read him like an open book.
You coo a soft, almost sarcastic,“uh huh.” stuffing another bite of salad in your mouth. I gotta thank Peter when he gets here. Finally tossing the empty container, you make your way to the couch opening your own book to read, before putting on your headphones. The music is painfully loud, blasting John Wayne, just how you liked it.
He watches you from the corner of his eye, noticing your choice of music. Cigarettes after sex- predictable. Then again, it suits you. His jaw ticks slightly at how damn cute you look with your headphones on. Focus, idiot. You're supposed to hate her.
The song plays peacefully through your ears, the soft singing easing all your thoughts. You glance up at Bucky to find him already looking at you. offering a warm smile before returning back to reading your book.
He catches your smile, feeling his heart skip a beat and internally curses himself. Your warm smile does something to him, things he can't fucking ignore anymore. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, then abruptly stands. "I'm going for a run," he mutters, grabbing his coat.
You look up at him, a confused expression all over your face. “It’s raining…? Just wait, I’ll go with you.” you mutter, jogging to get your own coat. It’s not like you had anything better to do.
He nearly tells you to stay inside, but seeing your determined expression stops him. Instead, he tightens his jaw, trying to ignore how his heart does that stupid flutter thing again. "It's fucking pouring," he argues, partly hoping you'd change your mind. "You'll get soaked."
You roll your eyes in response as you slide your coat on, “So will you, someone has to make sure you don’t slip.”
He scoffs, but secretly smiles at your stubbornness. God, why does she have to be so- fuck, stop thinking like that. "I'm not some damsel in distress," he grumbles, stepping out into the rain.
“Sure act like one.”
He hears your whispered comment and his eyes narrow slightly. He's about to retort when he realizes the cold rain is seeping into his bones. Fucking hell. He quickens his pace, hoping to get this over with. "Just keep up," he calls back, his voice muffled by the rain.
“Yeah, yeah.” you mumble, jogging not too far behind him. You can hear his hushed ‘hurry ups’ so you quicken your pace reaching him, just as you do you miss a step almost tripping. You close your eyes preparing for the fall.
Without thinking, Bucky's hand shoots out reflexively, catching you before you face-plant onto the slick pavement. His arms instinctively wrap around you, holding you steady against him as rain pouring down both of you. He blinks, momentarily stunned by how perfectly you fit against him.
Your arms wrap around his body instinctively, the rain pouring down soaking your hair. His arms wrapped protectively around you make your heart flutter, “Thank you.” you whisper, faces inches from his.
They found themselves wrapped in each other's embrace, completely unaware of the feelings that had blossomed between them. The world around them seemed to fade away as they held on tightly, seeking warmth and comfort in each other's arms. The rain soaked through their clothes, but they didn't mind; the closeness they shared was all that mattered. They looked into each other's eyes, feeling a connection that words couldn't describe, yet neither of them realized that was love.
Bucky's breath catches in his throat, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. The rain pounds around you both, but he barely notices, captivated by your proximity. His grip on you loosens slightly, yet he doesn't pull away. "Careful," he murmurs, his voice rough. You nod, pulling away from his embrace. As soon as you do, you regretted it. His touch is warm, fitting, nearly perfect.
“We should go back, if I get sick, I’m gonna kill you.”
Bucky can't help but smirk at your words, despite the cold biting into him. He falls into step beside you as you both head back, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, blame it on me if you catch a cold,"
You snort out a laugh, placing your hands in your own pockets. “Oh I will.”
———
You prayed you didn’t get sick, really prayed. But with your luck, it was bound to happen. The next day, you woke up chest burning, and nose stuffy.
“I’m gonna kill him.” You mumble, a cough following.
Bucky on the other hand was perfectly fine, not an single thing wrong with him. He was heading to the kitchen for a snack, but stopped abruptly hearing coughing down the hall. He freezes, listening intently. "Shit," he mutters, spinning on his heels, heading towards your room. He tiptoes to your door, pushing it open slightly. As the door opens, you’re already looking at him, standing there, your face flushed red and your eyes watery from constant sniffles. Irritation written all over your face. He crosses his arms, trying to look stern. "You sound terrible," he states, his tone unintentionally softening slightly.
You shake your head, walking closer to him, “Thanks.” you mumble, pushing him aside so you can open the door. You enter the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water immediately taking a long sip.
He watches you grab a bottle of water, only to have to suppress a smirk as you stagger past him, clearly irritated. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed as he observes your attempt to hydrate dramatically.
"Feel better?"
You send him a glare, before setting the water down. “If I had the energy, I would -makes a stabbing motion- you right here.” you say, before flopping on the sofa, curling into a ball. He chuckles at the threatened gesture, finding it hard to stay annoyed at you when you're sick and grumpy like this. He sits down beside you on the sofa, turning on the TV to distract himself from your miserable presence.
"You're so dramatic when you're sick,"
You roll your eyes, if it wasn’t for his little dramatic episode you wouldn’t be sick. You reach for your headphones instead met with air, you curse softly under your breath. “Can you go to my room, and grab my headphones, please?” you coo, sweetly.
He raises an eyebrow at the sudden sweet tone, knowing full well you're buttering him up to get what you want. He gets up reluctantly, heading to your room to fetch the headphones. He returns a minute later, tossing them onto your lap. "Here," You catch them, swiftly putting them on.
“Thanks hun.”
Bucky blinks, momentarily taken aback by the endearment slipping so casually from your lips. A faint blush creeps up his neck, quickly masked by a scowl. He flops back down on the couch, stretching his legs out. "Yeah, whatever,"
You hum to the song, immediately feeling better, eyes glancing at Bucky every so often.
Ever since that day in the rain, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he held you, how he looked at you, something about it had your head spinning and you’re slowly getting dizzier and dizzier. It was in the quiet moments, the ones where words weren't needed, that you finally realized your feelings. As they sat together in comfortable silence, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and belonging. It was the way he understood you without needing explanations, the way his presence alone could calm your restless mind. In that moment, you knew that what you felt went beyond friendship or admiration—it was love.
As you continue to glance at him, Bucky starts to notice. He catches your gaze a few times, furrowing his brow in confusion. After a while, he reaches out and gently removes your headphones, setting them aside. "Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale."
You nod, despite the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Maybe it wasn’t just your head getting dizzy…you rush to the bathroom, throwing up everything but those damn feelings. A few minutes later, you returned back to the living room, flopping on the couch. He watches you rush to the bathroom and return looking worse than before. He sits up straight, his brows furrowing in concern. "You're still sick," he states the obvious, reaching for the remote to pause the TV.
You groan, looking up at him. “No shit, captain obvious.” you retort.
He ignores the sarcastic remark, his mind more focused on the fact that you look worse by the minute. He gets up, standing over you. "You need to drink more," he insists, heading to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. For the first time, you comply sitting up against the sofa. You take the water bottle from his hands, taking slow sips.
“Thank you.”
He freezes slightly at your genuine 'thank you'. He's so used to your snarky remarks that this catches him off guard. He watches you carefully, noting the dark circles under your eyes and your faded complexion. "You hungry?" He asks softly. "Like, actual food?"
You nod, another unfamiliar flutter in your chest. You’ve must of got it bad, the sickness is affecting your heart. Right?
He nods, pleased with your response. It's a small victory, but he'll take it. He heads to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. After a moment, he emerges with a bowl of soup and some crackers. "Chicken noodle, okay?" Your eyes light up, the warm soup clouding your senses. “I think you’re going soft on me Bucky.” you say, your words dripping with sarcasm. You raise the spoon full of warm broth to your lips, quietly sipping it. Your body immediately relaxing.
He rolls his eyes at your teasing remark, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't get used to it," he mutters, watching you sip the soup. Seeing you relax, even slightly, brings an unexpected warmth to his chest. "It's just soup."
It’s more than just soup, the thoughtfulness behind it warming your heart, he’ll never truly know how much this meant to you. You eat slower than usual, savoring the broth, the taste making you feel all cozy inside. As you eat, Bucky settles back onto the couch, his gaze lingering on you. He tells himself it's just because he's making sure you eat, nothing more.
You glance at Bucky catching his baby blues staring, you squint your eyes at him, “Do I have something on my face?” you say, as he practically stares into your soul, it’s kind of sweet actually.
He quickly looks away, running a hand through his hair. "No... just making sure you're actually eating." He tries to play it cool, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. "You're usually not this quiet." He adds, trying to break the unusual silence.
Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, since when did he care? And why is it making you feel all warm inside. Are you gonna die? “I’m usually not sick, but thanks to somebody.” you mumble playfully.
His smirk returns at your mumbling, he can't help but feel a strange warmth at the fact that you're blaming him for your sickness. "Yeah, yeah, blame the guy taking care of you." He teases back, leaning against the armrest. You smile softly, picking the almost empty bowl up in your hands, placing it in the kitchen. As you return you grab the remote out of Buckys grasp, changing it to a rom com.
Sick days equal Romantic Comedy’s. I don’t make the rules.
Bucky's eyes widen in surprise as you take the remote and change the channel. He watches as a cheesy rom-com starts playing, his initial annoyance quickly turning into a soft smile. "Seriously?" He asks, his voice a little quieter than usual. “Yup.” you reply, popping the ‘P’ dramatically before taking your seat next to Bucky on the sofa, trying to siphon his warmth.
Bucky shifts slightly as you snuggle up next to him, trying to ignore the sudden surge of warmth flooding through him. He clears his throat, looking away from the mushy scenes unfolding on screen. "You do realize these movies are all lies, right?"
You gasp turning to look at him, “Not cool Barnes, they’re real to me.”
He chuckles, his arm instinctively draping behind your body, resting on the sofa. "Oh, come on. You can't seriously believe in all that sappy love stuff, do you?" He asks, his voice a little softer as he looks down at you. You meet his gaze, pondering for a moment. You’ve never really seen it first hand, but you like to believe you’ll experience it one day. Cuddling, romantic dinners, taking care of eachother when you’re sick…kisses, chocolates for Valentine’s Day. You wanted all that sappy love stuff. “I do.” you say almost too soft.
His expression softens slightly as he looks at you, seeing the dreamy look in your eyes. He swallows hard, pushing down the strange feeling in his chest. "You really believe in all that stuff? The grand gestures, the love at first sight, the happily ever after?"
You nod, “I never got see that sorta thing growing up, always made me wanna experience it.” you admit, feeling a bit too vulnerable around him.
Something inside him shifts at your vulnerability, the way you talk about something you've never even had. He suddenly feels a strong urge to protect you from every hurt in the world. He really needed to get it together. "What kind of fucked up place did you grow up in that you didn't even see people in love?"
“My home.”
You sat quietly in the corner, watching as your parents argued yet again. The harsh words and raised voices filled the room, creating an atmosphere thick with tension. You longed to see them show the love they once had for each other, to witness a simple hug or a gentle kiss. Instead, they avoided each other's gaze, their interactions cold and distant. It broke your heart to see the people who were supposed to be her role models in love and unity drift further apart with each passing day. You wished they could remember the warmth and affection they once shared, instead of letting anger and resentment take over.
His expression immediately turns serious, voice dropping to a gentle rumble as he realizes he struck a nerve. "Hey..." He shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. The concern in his gaze is stark. "Bad enough you're sick. Stop giving me those sad eyes, doll.” A weak laugh slips from your lips, soaking in the comfort of his hand resting on your chin comfortably.
His thumb caresses your jaw unconsciously. He realizes how soft your skin is, how small your face is compared to his large palm. "So, wait..." He hesitates, trying to word his question carefully. "No one ever showed you what real love was?" He asks softly.
You shake your head, “It’s not just that, my parents never really showed their love for eachother. They didn’t kiss, hug, hell…they barely even talked to eachother. It affected me heavily growing up, I couldn’t even stay in a relationship. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the person I was with, I just didn’t know how to show them.” The confession was enough to fully break the walls you’ve built, it hurt. In another sense you felt relieved, relieved you could finally open up to somebody. To tell them what you were feeling without being afraid how they’ll react.
His heart clenches painfully at your words, a fierce protectiveness rising inside him. No wonder you're so closed off. No one ever showed you what love could be. He wants to be the one to show you, to break through those walls you've built up. What if he was.
"That's..."
You cut him off with your own words, “Fucked up. I know.” you mutter, focusing back on the movie.
Bucky watches you for a long moment, the soft glow of the TV illuminating your profile. He realizes then, more than ever, how much you need those cheesy rom-coms. They're not just entertainment—they're a glimpse into the kind of love you've never known.
"Hey..."
He looks at you intently, his voice soft but firm. "You deserve better than what you've had. You deserve someone who'll make you laugh, who'll hold you when you're sick, who'll kiss you just because." You deserved him. The man who makes you laugh no matter what mood you’re in, the man who’s currently holding you while you’re sick, the man you wished lips were on yours instead of talking.
“You check off three of those boxes.”
His breath hitches at your words, his heart racing in his chest. He looks at you, really looks at you, and sees the vulnerability in your eyes, the longing. Without thinking, he leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "And the fourth?"
Your breath catches in your throat, your free hand subconsciously moving to his jaw. “Hasn’t been checked off yet.” you whisper, leaning in just enough to feel his breath against your lips. His eyes flick down to your lips, his own parting slightly. He can feel your warm breath mixing with his, can see the way your pupils dilate. Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull back, he closes the distance between you.
"Let me check it off for you."
You had spent years keeping your emotions locked away, convinced that love was something you could never truly have. But in that moment, love came into your life, patient and kind, completely breaking down the walls you had built around your heart. For the first time, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, realizing that you had finally found the love you had yearned for.
Stomping through the snowy path, towards the Hydra base alongside Steve Rogers. You hated this man. You truly did. You hated how much you were drawn to him. You hated how much he got under your skin. You especially hated how much you, didn’t hate him. Tony assigned both of you to go on the mission together, it was no doubt you guys worked perfectly together but the bickering got in between that. He always had something negative to say, “C’mon keep up, you’re slowing me down.” he says, glancing back at you. You were only a few steps behind him, despite the cold not having an affect on you, you still grew tired from walking such a long distance. “Yeah, yeah.” you mumble catching up to him. As you approached the base you instantly felt something was off, the air seemed to freeze completely around the both of you. The sound of wind hushing stopped, an ambush. “Steve…wait.” you whisper.
Steve stops abruptly, his senses on high alert as he scans their surroundings. He can feel it too, an eerie silence that doesn't sit right. As he turns to look at you, his expression is serious. "What is it?" he asks quietly, his eyes never leaving yours.
The soft crunching of snow made your body tense up, your eyes meet his with urgency, “We have to go back, this doesn’t feel right.” You say keeping your voice hushed. You can feel the shift in movement around you, making your head spin in different directions. Steve's instincts kick in, mirroring your unease. He slowly starts to backtrack, his hand reaching for his shield on his back. "You're right..." He whispers, his eyes darting around the frozen landscape.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them erupts. the snow explodes around you two. Ice shards fly everywhere, narrowly missing you both. Hydra soldiers emerge from hidden tunnels, surrounding you. "Dammit," Steve mutters, pulling his shield off his back. He throws it effortlessly, knocking one soldier unconscious.
Your heartbeat picks up, the two of you are no match for the amount of soldiers surrounding. “Duck.” With that you send ice shards into as many soldiers as you could before grabbing Steve’s arm, pulling him behind a bush. “We have to retreat, there’s too many of them.”
Steve follows your lead, ducking behind the bush just as a barrage of bullets whizzes by where you were standing. "You're right," he grunts, peeking through the leaves to assess the situation. The soldiers are closing in, their boots crunching on the frozen ground. You nod trying to come up with a plan to leave safely. “When I say run, sprint as fast as you can.” You whisper, he tries to argue but it’s no use.
Your eyes contort to a glowing ice blue. shit. shit. shit. Popping up from behind the bush, you manipulate the ice below the soldiers, sending ice like shards through their bodies. “Run!” Steve grabs you, sprinting as fast as he can. You arrive at an old cabin. Steve kicks open the cabin door, pulling both of you inside the darkened interior. The old smell of wood and ash hitting your senses immediately. He slams the door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. His eyes widen as he notices your ice-blue glowing eyes fading away.
"What the hell was that back there?"
You fall onto the old sofa, chest heaving. “Saving your ass.” you breathe, still trying to catch your breath.
Steve lets out a short, incredulous chuckle despite the dire situation. He pushes off from the door and strides over to the sofa, lowering himself to sit beside you. His gaze is searching, eyebrows furrowed with concern and lingering awe from the display of your powers. "Literally,"
There’s a few moments of silence, comfortable silence at that, before you spoke up, “We can hide in here for a while then head back to the quinjet.” You say, standing up, you open the heavy curtain on the window and your jaw drops. The snow completely covered it, “no…” you mumble under your breath. You try to open the door but it’s shut closed, We’re trapped.
In an instant, he's by your side, concern etched deeply in his features. He tries to push the door open himself, his muscles flexing with effort. It doesn't budge. "Trapped," he says grimly, running a hand through his hair.
Your jaw tightens, “fucking great.” you mutter, taking a seat back on the sofa. “Is your com still working?”
"Yeah," He pats his communicator, then presses the button. "This is Rogers. Anyone read?" Static answers him. He tries again, lower voice laced with worry. "Tony? Natasha? Anyone?" Still static. He drops down on the coffee table facing you, his brows furrowed. You groan knowing you’re really trapped now. “The snow should pass over, I can try to move it but it looks like there’s a lot out there, it’ll take hours.”
Steve nods, looking grim but determined. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considers the situation. "Hours might be a problem. Those soldiers weren't far behind us, and they'll likely follow the tracks." He glances around the cabin, mentally cataloging potential weapons or defensive positions.
You nod, “I can cover our tracks, it’ll buy us some time.” Standing up from the sofa, you make your way over to the window once again. Focusing on the ice, you rise it a bit higher covering the foot prints.
Steve watches you work, impressed despite the dire circumstances. Once you've covered the tracks, he stands up and joins you by the window. He peers out into the blinding snowstorm, his breath fogging up the glass. "This storm is worse than I thought."
No shit Sherlock. “Are you cold?” you whisper, turning to look up at him. You can handle the cold, it’s practically pumping through your veins. But Steve? He can only sustain the temperature for so long.
"A little," He admits softly, his body language stiffening slightly, not wanting to show weakness. He's used to cold weather training…hell, he can sustain it for a lot longer than you probably could, but this storm is something else. He watches you, sees how unaffected you are by the temperature. "You're like a human ice cube," he jokes softly.
You smirk at his comment, giving him a playful slap to the chest before taking a seat on the sofa. “How long do you think you’ll last, till you freeze.” you ask, you meant in a joking manner but it came out a bit more serious than you intended. This is the longest conversation you and Steve had without arguing. Maybe it’s the predicament you’re currently in, not much room for arguing at the moment.
He sits down next to you, his gaze drifting to the window as he tries to estimate his endurance in this frigid environment. "A few hours." he says quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. Theres no source of heat in here, no fire, no blankets, nothing. He’ll be lucky if he can even go a few hours. He glances over at you, his expression, almost thoughtful.
You inch closer to his embrace, trying to provide some kind of warmth. “I know you would rather be anywhere but here…but this is the best option if you don’t want to freeze.” You mumble, scooting closer.
He tenses briefly, then relaxes into your embrace, wrapping his arms around you to share what little warmth he has left. He rests his chin on top of your head, inhaling the faint scent that's uniquely yours. "This is torture," he mutters softly.
You chuckle softly, “A couple hours, that’s all. Then we can get the hell out of here.” You whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you even closer. He knows he should push you away, but the cold is sapping his strength and resolve. He rests his head against yours, his voice barely audible.
"And then what? Back to hating each other?"
You shrug in his arms, “That’s usually how it goes.” you mutter, You never understood why he hated you. The constant picking on you, the hushed retorts. You certainly don’t hate him, but god…does he make it hard to like him. He sighs, his breath visible in the cold air. For a moment, he's silent, mulling over your words and the irony of their situation. Here they are, stranded together in a freezing cabin, pretending to tolerate each other for survival.
An hour or so passes and you practically can feel Steve shaking in your arms. “Steve, you okay?” you whisper, looking up at him. His lip is quivering ever so slightly, and his face is flushed.
He looks down at you, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. "F-fine," he stutters, trying to hide the shiver that wracks his body. He knows he's reaching his limit, the cold seeping into his bones and sapping his strength. Before you could think, you straddle his lap facing him. “Just…relax.” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, melting into his embrace.
The heat of your body against his instantly warms him, but the gesture catches him completely off guard. He sits frozen - literally and figuratively - surprised by your sudden closeness. His hands automatically go to your waist to steady himself. "What are you doing?"
“Trying to keep you alive.” you mumble into his neck, accidentally rolling your hips against his trying to sit comfortably on his lap, not realizing exactly what you just did.
His heart hammers against his chest as he realizes the position you've put him in. His face is pressed against your neck, inhaling your scent and feeling the warmth of your body. He can feel your hips against his, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to react. You shift uncomfortably on his lap, hips rolling against his. You would think sitting on his lap would be a bit more comfortable, it felt like sitting on a brick.
He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the uncomfortable yet strangely pleasant sensation of your hips against his. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Stop moving," he mutters, his voice strained.
You can feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. You didn’t mean to…? “Sorry.” you breathe out, your breath warm against his chilling neck. He suppresses a shudder, not from cold this time, but from the feeling of your breath so close to his sensitive neck. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly.
"It's fine," he gruffs out, though his rigid posture suggests otherwise.
You swear you weren’t doing it on purpose, but couldn’t help shifting again, his hold around your waist getting uncomfortably tight. “You’re gonna squeeze me to death Rogers.” you mutter, rolling your hips against his once again.
His breath catches audibly in his throat at the movement, his usually controlled demeanor beginning to crack. "Would you stop-" But he can't finish the sentence, your movement has made something very evident through his layers of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath. Your heart stops beating for a moment, is he seriously? “Steve.” you retort, pulling away from his neck to meet his eyes.
His eyes lock with yours, filled with an unreadable expression - a mix of anger, frustration, and something else he refuses to acknowledge. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. "You're doing it on purpose," he accuses, his voice low and gravelly.
You scoff, resting your hand on his chest. Is he fucking serious? “I am not doing anything.” you retort back.
His hand moves from your waist to your hip, applying the slightest bit of pressure to keep you still. "Bullshit," he mutters, his face inches from yours. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath your touch. "Do you even realize where-" But he stops himself, jaw clenched.
So much for not arguing. “Yeah? tell me what I’m doing, that’s supposedly on purpose.” Something in your tone changed, your voice was low, almost seductive. You slide your hand from his chest to the back of his neck, seeing the small hairs stand up.
His breath catches at your touch on his neck, muscles tensing. "You're- Fuck," he swears quietly, gripping your hip firmly. "You're sitting on my lap, moving around like..." He trails off, unable to finish the thought.
"You know exactly what you're doing."
Your eyes widen slightly, realizing what he’s implying. “You think I’m purposely trying to ride you or something?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.
His eyebrows furrow as he stares at you incredulously. "Well, what the hell am I supposed to think when your hips are basically grinding against-" He stops abruptly, realizing how loud his voice has gotten. Clearing his throat, he stops noticing a smirk creep onto your lips. you’re having an effect on him, and he knows it. Your eyes glance to the very evident bulge in his pants, before meeting his eyes once again.
His eyes watch your gaze flick downwards, his jaw tightening again. "Goddammit," he mutters softly, his voice lower than before. Your smirk making him suspicious. His eyes flick down to your lips briefly. "Are you-" He swallows hard. You cut off his words, rolling your hips against his with urgency. “Oh like this?” you retort sarcastically.
His eyes snap down to where your body moves against his. "Shit," he mutters quietly, watching your hips. "That's not an answer," he grits out, trying his best to ignore the sensation between his legs. "And stop moving," he adds sharply. Despite his efforts telling you to stop, You simply nod slowing your movements, but not stopping them.
Steve's nostrils flare as he takes a shuddering breath, fists clenching at his sides. "I said stop moving," he repeats, his voice strained with barely suppressed frustration - and something else entirely. His hips involuntarily jerk upwards, betraying his body's reaction. The sudden movement, catches you off guard completely. A soft moan slipping from your lips.
He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as he realizes what just happened. His eyes snap back up to meet yours, seeing the soft, needy sound that escaped your lips. His gaze locks onto yours, the air thick with tension. "Don’t," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.
You stop your teasing, almost embarrassed at the sound that left your lips. “Sorry.” you whisper resting both of your hands on his chest, trying to steady yourself. His muscles flex beneath your hands, chest heaving. The word "Sorry" catches in his throat as he stares at your lips again, remembering how they just forming around that delicate moan. "Just shut u-" He catches himself, jaw clenching.
"Don't stop moving."
His words throw you for a loop, your brows furrowing in response hearing his low words. You roll your hips against his slowly, the friction feeling delicious. His eyes roll back slightly, head tipping back against the wall as he lets out a shaky breath. The movement is slow, but it's enough. His hips begin to move subtly, matching your roll with his own gentle thrusts. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, head still pressed against the wall.
His whispered words are enough to send heat straight to your core. You quicken your movements, grinding harsher against his hardness. He gasps sharply, one hand flying to grip your hip as his control slips. "Fuck, wait-" But his words dissolve into a low groan as you press against him more insistently. His hips buck up involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of that delicious heat rubbing against his aching cock.
Still grinding your hips, you lower your head catching his neck, leaving soft open mouth kisses along his jaw. His hips buck up hitting your clit perfectly, making you moan softly just below his ear. He inhales sharply, his body tensing as he feels your warm breath on his neck, those soft open-mouthed kisses driving him mad. His hips surge upward again, finding that perfect spot that makes you make those tiny needy sounds.
You wanted more, fuck that. You needed more.
“Steve…”
His name on your lips, broken and desperate like that, completely shatters his remaining control. One hand moves to grip your hair at the nape of your neck, the other squeezing your hip possessively. "God, stop moaning like that..."
You smirk, kissing just below his ear, softly nipping at the sensitive skin. “S’good Steve…just like that.” you coo in his ear.
His breath catches sharply as your voice, low and breathy, tickles his ear. He swallows a groan, realizing you're purposefully teasing him with words and touches. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he pants out, one eyebrow quirked despite his desperation. Just as the words leave his lips, his hips jerk up hitting your clit deliciously once again. “yes…!” you cry out.
A shudder runs through him at your shameless moan, his resolve cracking further. "Fuck, you're sexy when you're desperate," he growls, surprising himself with the dirty talk. His hands slide down to grab your ass, squeezing and guiding your hips in tighter circles against him.
Pressing a hand against his chest, halting his movements. You climb off of his lap, pulling your tights down quickly. His eyes darken at the sight, you swore he drool a little. He pulls you back on his lap, letting out a whiny moan, the thin lace of your panties being the only barrier between you two. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands flying to your hips to pull you even closer, as if he can't get enough of the friction.
Making it apparent you couldn’t get enough, you lift your hips above his, hovering over his bulge. “Take them off.” you whisper, tilting his head up to look at you. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, filled with a heady mix of desire and surprise at your commanding tone. Without a word, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your bare, glistening core.
“You sure?”
You nod, reaching down unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling them down just enough to release his bulge evident in his boxers. “Look at you…” you whisper, breath catching at the sight. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, watching your confident movements. The way you're teasing him, handling him with such deliberate care, drives him crazy.
"Don't look at me like that..." he warns, though it comes out more like a plea than anything else. "It's making me..." His words trail off into a low groan as his cock bounces free, standing proud and hard between his thighs. He's never been so turned on in his life, and it's all because of the way you're looking at him, like he's the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Unable to hold back any further, you rub his head through your slick folds. letting out a soft moan in responce. A low, deep sound escapes his throat at the feel of your wetness against his sensitive head. His hands dig into your hips, urging you on though he knows he should probably tell you to take it slow. "Shit..." his head falls back against the wall, eyes darkening with desire.
You hum in approval before teasing his head at your entrance, The obscene sound filling the room. His abs tighten as he fights back a thrust, watching you rub his head against your entrance, making his imagination run wild with images of sliding deep inside you. His hands flex on your hips, trying not to take control. "Baby..." He warns softly.
Without warning, you sink down onto his cock. The blissful pain flowing through your core, causing a whimpered moan to slip from your lips feeling him stretch you out deliciously. You sit still on his lap, letting your body adjust to his incredible size. “My god…” you whimper softly.
His back arches slightly at the sudden tight, wet heat. "Holy..." He swallows hard, hands flying to your thighs to spread them wider. He watches where you're connected, his thick length slowly disappearing inside you. He can feel every little movement you make, your inner muscles tightening around him. Slowly, you began riding him, your body moving upward and downwards at a perfect rhythm. His breath catches in his throat as you begin moving, the sensation unbelievable as your velvety walls squeeze him tightly. He watches in awe, hands stroking up and down your thighs, before sliding around to grip your ass, encouraging your rhythm.
"Fuck... Just like that,"
You nod in approval, chest heaving. Your pace quickens slowly but surely, the sound of skin clapping against each other, wet noise, and the smell distinctly of sex filling the quiet cabin.
His eyes roll back as he loses himself in the sight and feeling of you riding him. The sound of your wet pussy squeezing his cock, the way your breasts bounce with each movement, it's all too much. He lets out a string of curses, his hips bucking up to meet your downward motion.
You tighten your hold around his shoulders, breathe warm against his neck. You kiss, bite, lick gently on the delicate skin, leaving dark marks, letting out soft moans and whimpers here and there. He groans at the feeling on his neck, his large hands gripping your ass tightly as he thrusts up into you. The combination of your soft sounds and tight pussy is driving him wild. He can feel his orgasm building, his sac tightening as he gets closer and closer. He can your walls tighten around his length, making him twitch inside of you,
“I know you’re close…let go for me sweetheart.” You whisper, your voice is low, whiny…seductive in his ear.
Your seductive words and tight walls prove too much, sending him over the edge. With a low groan that seems to rumble through his entire body, he bursts, thick ropes of cum pumping deep inside you. His grip on your ass becomes almost bruising as spikes of pleasure course through him. You’re right behind him, his hot seed painting your walls, sending you right where you craved to be. Body shaking with pleasure, as your orgasm crashes through you.
He holds you tight, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rides out his climax, filling you to the brim with his release. When he finally starts to come down, he collapses back against the sofa, you still impaled on his softening length.
You chuckle softly, through a heavy breath. “Warmer now?” you say, grinding your hips slowly, riding out your high. He chuckles back, his strong arms around your waist, his fingers splaying out on your lower stomach possessively. "Much warmer," He murmurs, his hips twitching up into you gently, not ready to slip out just yet.
Letting your body rest on his for a few moments longer, you finally lift off of his lap, his release dripping down your thigh. “Oh, fuck.” you whimper. He looks down at the evidence of their passion dripping down your thigh, his release mingling with yours. He reaches out to hook his fingers around your thigh, pulling your leg over his lap again, keeping you close. "Damn..."
“Still hate me?”
He looks up at you with a smirk, his hand slowly trailing up and down your thigh while keeping your leg draped over his lap. "Only when you're being a brat," he jokes, squeezing your thigh gently. His eyes soften as he meets your gaze, a tender look passing between you both.
You laugh softly, leaning down to catch his lips. After all of that, you couldn’t believe you didn’t kiss him sooner. He returns the kiss, his arms wrapping around you again as if he never wants to let you go. When you finally break the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, holding you close. "I think I've been an idiot," he admits softly.
“Humor me, Rogers.”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Okay, smart-ass, maybe I've been more of an idiot than usual. Thinking I could hate you, when really..." He pauses, searching your eyes. "...when really, you drive me fucking crazy." He notices the subtle furrowing your brows,a confused glint shining in your stunning eyes. He swallows hard, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he tries to put his jumbled thoughts into words. "You make me angry, you make me laugh, you make me..." He trails off, his jaw clenching briefly.
“Spit it out Steve.”
He lets out a frustrated groan, running his free hand through his hair. "What I’m trying to say is...you make me want things I shouldn't. Like this," He gestures between you two with his hand on your thigh. "I shouldn't want to kiss you every damn second." He looks at you with a conflicted expression, his blue eyes searching yours. "I shouldn't want to protect you, to make you smile, to hear your laugh... I shouldn't want to be near you all the time." He takes a deep breath, his voice dropping to a softer tone.
Your hands trail up his body, stopping to caress his jaw gently, eyes never leaving his. “Why do you?”
His eyes flutter closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your hand. When he opens them again, there's a vulnerability in his gaze that he rarely shows. "Because... because I think I'm falling for you." The words are barely a whisper, but they hang heavy in the air between you.
You crash your lips onto his, the kiss slower, messier, full of undeniable feelings. His hand moves up to grip your neck while the other pulls you closer, kissing you deeply. When you finally part, he rests his forehead against yours again, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Good, because I’ve already fallen.”
You didn’t know what to do anymore, you’ve never felt so…alone. After that day everything seemed like it was blur. You tried to stick around the avengers compound but it wasn’t the same, some days you you couldn’t even get out bed. The normal jokes and remarks haven’t left your lips in months, and it wasn’t any better with the worried looks coming your way. You hid. It’s what you knew best. You locked yourself away from the world.
The first couple of months, Natasha and Steve would visit and share a cup of tea with you. But it soon became just Steve, then even sooner, nobody. You didn’t understand why he had to go, why you had to go through this kind of pain, for fucks sake he died in your arms.
Out of all people…why him.
Five years had passed and you didn’t leave the comfort of your home…until you heard a knock at your door. The knock is faint, almost hesitant. After five years of silence, the person on the other side of the door takes a deep breath and knocks again, louder this time. The sound echoes through the empty house, breaking the silence that has become your constant companion. “You in there?" Staring blank at the door, your mouth had gone dry. The third knock was heavier, powerful. Finally getting up you open the door, “Natasha?” You whisper.
Natasha leans against the doorframe, her expression unreadable. She scans you from head to toe, taking in the visible changes - the pallor of your skin, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your clothes hang loosely on your frame.
"Jesus, look at you,"
You didn’t look that bad? Did you…?
Natasha steps inside, closing the door behind her. She turns to face you, her arms crossing over her chest. "You look like death warmed over," she states bluntly, her voice laced with concern that she's trying to hide behind sarcasm.
“It did.” you mutter underneath your breath, “Did you need something?” You weren’t trying to sound rude, but you really weren’t in the mood for the sarcasm. You can see her expression sour. She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and sits down, gesturing for you to sit as well. "Steve sent me," she says, getting straight to the point. She watches you intently, waiting for a reaction to Steve's name. Your head perks up hearing his name. “Did he now? Well let’s hear Romanoff.”
Natasha's lips twitch with a faint smile at your use of her full name. It's the first sign of life she's seen from you in months. "We can bring him back." she says, her voice softer now. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.
You can feel your heart drop to your stomach, she has to be joking. It was no secret you had a crush on Bucky, not with Steve’s big mouth. Once you lost him, it was clear he was the reason you are the way you are now, “Say you’re joking…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, afraid it’ll crack at the mention of him.
Natasha's heart aches at the sound of your whispered words. She reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder. Her thumb brushing gently over your collarbone. "I'm not joking," she says softly. Her eyes search yours, trying to gauge your reaction. "Scott found something." You smiled, for the first time in years, you smiled. Quickly nodding, you grab your things, just as you reach the door you look down at your attire. “Maybe I should shower first.” Natasha chuckles nodding her head. You and Nat arrive at the avengers compound, you couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing in the car, you haven’t felt this alive since Wakanda.
The Avengers compound is bustling with activity as you and Natasha enter. You can feel the stares, the whispers. Natasha leads you to the war room where Steve, Bruce, and Scott are waiting. As soon as you enter, Steve's eyes widen in shock. You flash a smile at him, pulling him into a hug. “I’ve missed you Rogers.” you whisper. Steve returns your hug with a tight squeeze, emotion evident in his voice. "God, I've missed you..." He pulls back, examining your face just like Natasha did. "How are you..." His words trail off, not knowing how to ask what he wants to know. "Really..."
You furrow your brows slightly, a smirk still playing on your lips. “I’m fine, really.” You glance at Scott doing a double take, the realization hitting, “Didn’t you…?” You know Scott disappeared after the snap, “how is he…?”
Scott grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that..." He glances around the room before leaning in conspiratorially. "Turns out quantum physics is a bit forgiving. Took some tweaking, but we cracked it." You nod acting like you understood a thing he said.
“Good to see you by the way, you too Bruce!” Turning your attention back to Steve, you lean a bit closer, voice dropping for only his ears, “Is it true, you can really bring him back?” Steve's eyes flick to Bruce briefly before he turns back to you, his expression serious. "Bruce thinks so," he whispers. "He's been studying the time-space continuum, trying to figure out a way to retrieve the souls that were dusted..."
“Sounds easy enough.” Yeah right.
Standing in the middle of the ‘time machine’ you prepare yourself to retrieve the soul stone with Natasha and Clint, The air is thick, making the hair on your arms stand up. “You guys ready?” You whisper. Clint and Natasha nod, their faces set with determination. As the machine activates, the room begins to distort and fade away. You feel a strange sensation, like your molecules are being torn apart and put back together again. "Hold on," Natasha warns, her voice steady despite the chaos. Squeezing your eyes shut just as hard as your hands in Natasha and Clint’s, the feeling stops.
It worked.
“Holy shit.” you mutter stepping off the quinjet. Vormir is absolutely stunning, the sun is set a beautiful shade of purplish red. You look upon the rocks seeing the rocky cliffs, “I guess that’s the way” you mumble. “I bet the raccoon, didn’t have to climb a mountain” Natasha says, stopping for a moment. “Technically he’s not a raccoon, you know?” Clint responds. “Whatever he eats garbage.” Natasha breaths. What feels like hours you finally reach a flat part of the mountain.
“Welcome.”
You snap your head, pulling a knife from your belt.
“Natasha…daughter of Ivan, Clint…son of Edith.” When the phantom gets to your name, you clench your jaw. No one knows your parents, how could he possibly… “Who are you.” You snap back.
“Consider me a guide…to you…to all who seek the soul stone.” The phantom says, his voice echos sending chills down your spine. Your eyes meet Natasha’s, a disgusted look on your face making her laugh softly.
“Oh good, alright you hot tamale, where’s the stone? tell us where it is and we’ll be on our way. You’re starting to freak me out.” You mutter. A quiet chuckle slips from Clint’s lips, of course he would find that funny. He emerges from the darkness revealing his crooked face. You know him…but where…The Red Skull. He leads you to the top of the mountain, you don’t know how to describe it but it feels, different up here.
“What you seek, lies in front of you.” You look over the cliff, the bottom of it dangerously low. “For one of you, for the other…In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul for a soul.” The Red Skull says.
“He’s making this shit up guys.” You say walking over to nat, sat on a nearby rock. She shakes her head finally meeting your eyes, “Thanos left with the stone, without his daughter. That’s no coincidence.”
“Whatever it takes.” Your voice barely above a whisper.
The three of you approach the cliff, “We know who it’s gotta be.” Clint says. Clint knocks Natasha to her feet, giving you the opportunity to run. Sprinting towards the cliff your eyes glued to the sunset in front of you. Just as you’re about to jump, your body falls to the floor in shock…damn Natasha. You shake in pain, eyes locked onto Natasha watching her movements as she leaps off the cliff. You scramble to your feet catching her hand, “Nat…please.” You swallow harshly, tears brimming your eyes. “Natasha Romanoff, don’t you fucking dare.” A single tear falls from her eyes, “I love you.” she whispers, a weak smile on her lips. She kicks the rock in front of her yanking her hand out of yours. Time seems to freeze as your fingertips slip through hers. The sound of her hitting the bottom echoes through you, rattling your very soul. You collapse to your knees, an anguished scream tearing from your throat. Clint lies there stunned, unable to process what just happened.
You and Clint stand in the middle of the Time Machine hand in hand, tears mirroring eachothers. You didn’t say a word as you make it back to your timeline, the others are looking around, a smile on their faces, succeeding on getting the stone. “Where’s Nat?” Another tear glides down your cheek turning your body to face Clint, resting your head on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you tightly as he tries to comfort you. Steve and Bruce notice your tear-stained face and Clint's somber expression, their smiles faltering. "Where is Natasha?" Bruce asks, his voice laced with concern.
Your throat is dry, head fuzzy. You saw it happen and you still couldn’t convince yourself she’s gone. It should’ve been you. Sat on a bench staring at the water infront of you, face unreadable. A single tear falls from your eyes, you wipe it just as quick as it fell hearing someone sit next to you. Clint. He sits quietly beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders. He doesn't say anything, just holds you as you stare out at the water. "She's really gone, isn't she?" his voice is barely above a whisper. Your head rests in the crook of his neck, “yeah.” you whisper.
“why would she do that?” Voice finally cracking, letting the tears flow.
Clint pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Because she thought it was the only way," he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. "She thought it was the sacrifice that needed to be made. She always was too stubborn for her own good." A weak laugh slips from your lips, god you miss her already. “Then we have to do this, for Nat.” You say tilting your head up to look at clint. Clint nods solemnly, "Damn right we do," he says, wiping away one of your tears. "She didn't die for nothing. We end this war. For Natasha." He stands up, offering you his hand. "Come on."
Tony puts the last stone in place on the red mechanical hand, the tension floats in the air uncomfortably as everyone looks upon it. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freakin’ fingers?” Rocket says. Everyone glances at eachother, “I’ll do it.” Thor says walking closer to the glove. “Excuse me?” Tony retorts. The bickering goes on for at least five minutes, with a roll of your eyes you speak up, “Enough.” Their eyes shoot at you immediately, “It’s got to be me. You saw what it did to Thanos, it almost killed him.” Bruce says finally cutting the tension. “Bruce…” you plea but his mind is already set.
As the glove goes around his hand, everyone prepares for what’s about to happen. You stand behind Clint holding his hand comfortingly. As the glove sets around Bruce’s hand, colorful beams shoot through his arm, you shut your eyes unable to look at your friend going through such pain. He finally snaps his finger causing everything to blur, “did it work?” you say releasing Clint’s hand walking beside him, he picks up his phone as it starts to ring. “is that…?” you whisper. He nods a faint smile on his lips. It worked. You’re gonna see him, just as the smile creeps onto your lips everything comes crashing down. The sounds of bombs bursting and rubble hitting your body shakes you to your core. “CLINT!” you shout out, coughing what feels like your lungs straight out. The world around you crumbles as the time reversal causes chaos. You hear Clint shout your name back, but the sound of rubble falling drowns out his voice. You're thrown to the ground, hitting your head hard.
Your body feels like it’s on fire but you can’t stop now, you’ve gotten to far to just quit. You use all the strength you had left to push the rubble off of your body, finally free you jump to your feet running out of the now broken down building. “Tony! Thor! for fucks sake, anyone?!” you shout out hoping somebody would hear you. Through the haze of dust and destruction, a familiar voice calls out. "Over here!" Tony's armored hand waves frantically from behind a pile of collapsed metal. As you rush over, you find Tony pinned, his leg trapped under a large beam.
You run over directed by his voice, finally finding him. “Stay still.” You mutter, focusing on the rubble on top of his leg. The piece of concrete levitates above his leg slowly freeing him. “hurry!” you bark out not able to hold it for long. Tony hisses in pain as his leg comes free, but he's quick to push himself to safety. "Thank fuck," he mutters, grabbing his leg. "Where are the others?" he asks, looking around the devastation.
"And how the hell are you still standing?"
You side eye him, shaking your head. “Instincts. I don’t know where the others are, I haven’t seen…” You trail off seeing Thor standing in the open, focusing on someone. “what…” you mumble walking over to him, that’s when you see it. The person who took everything from you.
Thanos.
As you approach, you see Thor stood frozen, his eyes locked onto Thanos. The Mad Titan is kneeling, surrounded by rubble, his armor damaged but his gaze unwavering. He's alive. And he's looking straight at you.
Your body freezes seeing Thanos menacing eyes lock with yours. “I’m gonna kill him.” you mutter, a hand covers your shoulder shaking you out of the trance. “Thor.” you breathe turning to face him. “Let’s kill him properly this time.” With that Steve, Tony, Thor, and you circle around. Thanos starts talking saying god knows what, but you couldn’t care less. You began focusing your energy on him boiling the blood in his arms giving the others time to attack him. It’s going smoothly till he powers through it hitting you hard enough to send you flying. You crumple to the ground, unconscious, but the battle rages on around you. Thor's hammer swings, Tony's repulsor blasts, and Steve's shield charges through the air. But Thanos is a force to be reckoned with, his power overwhelming despite their combined efforts.
Your eyes flutter open seeing Steve lay near you, groaning in pain. “Rogers?” Crawling to your knees you place a hand on his shoulder, “Get up, we’re not losing this fight.”
Steve groans and pushes himself up, nodding grimly. "Fucking asshole," he mutters, gritting his teeth as he stands. He looks over at your battered state, concern flashing across his face. "You good?" he asks, checking his shield. You nod helping him stand stable, “Language Rogers.” A smirk plays on your lips glancing at him. He chuckles softly, despite the pain and chaos around them. "Yeah, yeah," he says, rolling his eyes playfully. Their brief moment of levity is short-lived as a roar from Thanos sends both of them staggering back.
“What I’m about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet. I’m gonna enjoy it…very, very much.” As the words leave his lips, his troops began crowing the field. “shit.” you mumble.
“Hey cap, can you read me?” Is that…?
Sam says through the coms, that surprisingly still work. Your head perks up at Steve, eyes widening. “On your left.” Sam says. Your head snaps to the left seeing a familiar portal form in the air. “I’ve never been more happy to see that birdbrain.” you breathe out, letting a genuine laugh slip seeing Sam fly through the portal. Multiple portals began opening all around you as the people who were once blipped step through. Bucky. “Oh my god…Bucky.” you whisper looking through the crowds of people trying to locate him.
Standing amidst the reunited earth's mightiest, his eyes immediately scan the crowd for a familiar face - you. As he spots you, his expression softens for just a moment, intense relief passing through his features. He moves towards you, pushing through the reunited heroes.
Your heart drops seeing him rush towards you, just as you’re about to rush through the crowd Steve finally speaks up, “Avengers…Assemble.” Everyone starts running towards the troops and you get lost in the crowd, Unable to finally reach the man you’ve been fighting to see, you rush towards the troops aswell. You explode multiple Outriders at once pushing your abilities to their furthest. As you’re about to explode another, you spot Thanos.
You rush towards him, determination dripping from your forehead. “You took everything from me.” You say, eyes locking with his cold ones. “I don’t even know who you are.” he mutters, “you will.” You retort, sending him stumbling back with the lift of your finger. He rushes towards you but you focus all you had left into his blood boiling it. You smirk raising your hands, levitating his body in the air. “Not so tough now?” you mumble, slowly tearing his body in half. You can see the strain on his face before he barks out, “rain fire!” Your eyes widen as beams began shooting from the air. You release him unable to finish what you started, before running and ducking under debris.
In the midst of his own brutal combat with several Outriders, he catches sight of your confrontation with Thanos. His heart pounds as he sees you standing your ground against the Mad Titan. When Thanos suddenly shouts "rain fire," his world stops. He rushes towards you, barely making it before hitting the ground, a beam almost stricking him. Your head snaps, seeing Bucky hit the ground. “Buck!” you scream out, scrambling towards his body. You make it to him, pulling him under the protective shield Wong created.
“Bucky..?” your voice is barely above a whisper, tears breaming your eyes.
Bleeding and bruised, he looks up at you through heavy lids. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to catch his breath. When he sees the tears in your eyes, his expression softens. "Fucking hell," he gasps, reaching up to touch your face gently.
Your heart stops beating feeling his warm touch on your face, “I thought I lost you.” you choke out, the tears now flowing freely. Pulling you into his arms despite his injuries. He can feel you shaking, can hear the sob escaping your lips. He wraps his arms around you, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "Shh, shh," he whispers, holding you tightly. Your body relaxes in his arms, the years you’ve yearned for his touch has finally come. Pulling back ever so slightly from his embrace, your cup his cheeks in your hands, “God…you look like shit.” you smile, letting out a weak laugh.
He lets out a surprised laugh, the sound rough and broken. "And you look like you've been through hell," he retorts, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. He searches your face, taking in the sight of you after so long. "Fuck, I missed that smart mouth."
Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you gaze into his eyes, missing the captivating glint in them. No better time than now, you pull him in lips finally meeting his. He returns the kiss with a desperate urgency, his arms tightening around you as he pours years of longing into the embrace. The world around them fades away as he loses himself in the feel of your lips against his, the taste of you, the warmth of your body pressed against his.
“I’ve waited five years for that.” you murmur.
He leans his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short gasps. "Five fucking years?” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse. "I was gone for five hours, doll" he murmurs.
“It’s been five years buck, I was losing myself without you.”
He freezes, his heart stopping completely at your words. Five years. You had been without him for five fucking years. The thought of you suffering, of you being alone and broken guts him. He pulls you back into his arms, holding you so tightly it's almost painful. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, but you’re not finished yet. You kiss his shoulder softly before pulling away, “We’ll finish this after we win this war.” You say focusing back on the bigger task, you have to do this. Standing to your feet you see Carol getting thrown by Thanos, racing over to them, you stop Thanos Freezing his body in place, manipulating his mind once again. This gives Tony the opportunity to take the stones and finally finish this all. “Is that fear I see?” you mutter looking up at Thanos, reading his mind. “Pathetic.” you spat out.
The world goes quiet as Tony snaps his fingers, we did it. You release Thanos stumbling back, your head dizzy. “Buck?” you whisper falling backwards, blood dripping from your nose. He's by your side in an instant, catching you before you hit the ground. His heart drops when he sees the blood, his training kicking in immediately. "Fuck, how bad is it?" he asks, checking your nose and face for any other injuries. "Talk to me, doll." He helps you sit up, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He knows you're not fine, not really. The blood, the dizziness, it's all a sign that you're exhausted and probably hurting. He looks around at the others, taking in the scene of destruction and victory.
You look around at the now empty field, no more Outriders, not more Thanos, wait…where’s..? Tony! “Oh my god, Stark. Is he okay?” you try to stand up but you’re held back down by Bucky. “Shh, stay still," he orders, his voice firm but gentle. He looks over at Tony, who's slumped against a nearby wall, the Infinity Stones glowing faintly in his hand. "He's...he's okay. Just overwhelmed." He lies to you, he’s knows Tony isn’t gonna make it…but you’ve been through too much and his heart aches for you already. Seeing you hurt more is going to tear both of you in half.
You nod letting your body relax in his arms, The air fills your senses, it smells like ash, dirt, just purely gross. But it’s finally safe, clear…turning your head you meet Bucky’s gaze, smiling weakly at him.
“I love you.”
The words rolled off your tongue smoothly, you didn’t have to regret them. You didn’t want to. You meant it, you really did, you’ve always have.
“I’m-i’m sorry, that was-”.
His heart stops, his breath catches in his throat. Those three words, they're the only thing he's ever wanted to hear from you. He stares at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or confusion, but all he sees is that weak, tired smile. He silences your apology with a soft kiss, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Don't you dare take it back," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. He's always known, always felt it, but hearing the words...it nearly breaks him.
You’re an avenger, one of the most powerful ones to be exact. It was always a struggle growing up with psychokinetic, telekinesis and telepathic abilities, you did your best to manage them but everyone had their slip ups. You were in class, zoned out, chewing on your pen like every other boring day. You never spoke, or even looked in these girls direction but they decided to come up to you. The words that left their lips were disgusting, just utterly uncalled for. You don’t know what clicked in your head, but next thing you knew the girl was on the floor screaming in pain, claiming you broke her arm. “I didn’t touch her!” you tried to plea to the principal but they weren’t having it, you got expelled.
Being the talk of the town for months was miserable, you could barely show your face outside, that was until you met Tony Stark. To this day you still aren’t sure how he found you, but he did. He wanted you to fight, The Captain America. If he told you this a few months ago, you would tell him he was out of his mind, but here you are, standing face to face with Captain fucking America. You can see the muscles bulging under his uniform, the shield glinting menacingly in the sunlight. He's not just the symbol of hope and freedom, he's a formidable fighter. He stares you down, waiting for you to make the first move.
The smirk that creeps onto your lips is cocky, you know you can take him, and he has no idea what you’re capable of. With a slight tilt of your head, you send him flying back. You didn’t even have time to breathe before your body hit the ground, someone pounced on you. Your eyes flutter open immediately locking with his blue ones. “Who the fuc-” your cut off by his voice rumbling near your ear as he pinions you beneath him, his metal-hand pressing down firmly on your chest. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but if you're smart, you'll drop whatever-." it’s low and rough but yet so smooth.
Using the energy you had left you send him flying, crashing into one of the containers. He stands up from the wreckage, now visibly pissed. You run over attempting to help T’Challa with Wanda, but once again you’re shoved back by the same person. “you just don’t give up, do you?” You murmur. He dusts himself off and squares up with you again. You're not even breathing hard. The Captain wasn’t wrong - you're dangerous. He studies your eyes intently, something shifting in his expression. Seeing the apparent frustration on his face only spurs you too continue, “I’ll go easy on you.” you say, you’re lips quirking up in a cocky smirk.
Bucky's eyes narrow at your smirk, a low chuckle escaping him despite himself. "Easy? I'd like to see you try." He adjusts his grip on his knife, muscles tensing under his uniform as he prepares for another assault.
You bolt at him, going toe to toe with his hits. unfortunately he’s a step quicker than you, knocking you off your feet you hit the ground letting out a low groan. You look up at him, you’re face now filled with irritation. You began focusing on his arm, turning the heat up in his blood sending his nerves into overdrive. Your nose beginning to drip with your own blood. As his metal arm goes stiff and his vision starts to blur from the pain in his flesh arm, Bucky grunts, trying to maintain his grip on his knife.
"What the fuck."
He lunges forward, trying to pin you to the ground with his good arm. You roll out of the way losing your focus on his arm, “That’s enough.” You send him flying into another container before running the opposite direction. The fight continues but unfortunately Steve and who you now know as Bucky Barnes escape. A few years later, you’ve been recruited to the Avengers. Everything was going almost perfect, but you couldn’t get a specific soldier off your mind. Something about him drew you in and now you can’t draw him out.
Don’t think you were the only one having these thoughts, by now, even in Wakanda Bucky has heard rumors about you causing waves with your abilities. A part of him feels a flicker of recognition when someone mentions your name - the way you moved, the way you fought. It's been years, but something about you sticks in his memory.
Every week you lie in bed, zoned out thinking about Bucky. You couldn’t tell yourself why you thought about him, but he always lingered in your mind. The door swings open snapping you out of your thoughts, “I know I said you needed the vacation, but I need you.” Steve says, you’ve never seen him like this, he’s looks…wait, how did he even get in the apartment? Once again next thing you know, you’re in Wakanda.
Steve Rogers sudden appearance in Wakanda, raises more than a few eyebrows. Bucky, however, is the only one who seems to recognize you standing beside him immediately upon your arrival. He's standing nearby, watching the scene unfold with a mix of curiosity. Your eyes scan the scenery infront of you, it’s absolutely breathtaking, but the only thing that caught your attention was him. Bucky Barnes. The man who’s been living in your mind for years. To your shock he approaches you and Steve, a warm smile on his face as he embraces Steve in a hug. As he hugs Steve, his gaze flickers over to you, his smile faltering for just a moment before he regains his composure. He releases Steve and extends a hand towards you, his eyes holding a hint of recognition as he says, "It's been a while."
A smile ghosts on your lips, hearing his voice. The voice that’s been lingering in your head for god too long. You extend your hand, placing it in his. “yeah…” really? yeah. that’s all you could muster up?
Bucky's hand envelops yours, and for a moment he just holds it, studying your face as if trying to remember something. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, his eyes never leaving yours. "You've changed," he says softly. you let out a soft chuckle, “Yeah…When I was beating your ass I looked a lot different.” you can see a sly smirk creep onto his lips, mirroring your own. His eyes light up with amused recognition at your joke, a genuine laugh escaping him. "Still as mouthy as before." He folds his arms, studying your face again, and this time there's definitely something more in his eyes.
You shrug your shoulders taking in his appearance, “you’ve changed as well Barnes.” His hair was much longer, and he had even more on his face, not that you minded. He looked ridiculously good. Just as you’re taking in his new look he runs a hand through his longer hair, a slightly sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, well... a lot can change in a few years, huh?" His gaze travels over you appreciatively, taking in the differences. "Looks like we both grew up a bit."
The night fell quickly, leaving you walking through the fields of Wakanda. You didn’t know where you were going but you didn’t stop moving, well, not until you got a glimpse of him. He was sitting on the grass, the lake infront of him. The reflection of the moon on the lake lit up his face, making him look almost angelic. Admiring him for a moment longer, you finally approach him.
“Barnes?”
Startled from his thoughts, Bucky looks up at your approach. His expression softens when he sees it's you, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head slightly, looking up at you in the soft moonlight. "Yeah?" His eyes makes you weak in the knees, the sight of him looking up at you with the moon illuminating his features has your heart racing. “What’re you doing out here, don’t tell me you’re sulking about getting your ass kicked.” you say, a soft laugh following your response. Bucky barks out a surprised laugh, the sound warming the cool night air. Shaking his head, he pats the ground beside him invitingly. "No…no, my ego's too tough for that. Just needed a minute to enjoy this view without any smart-ass remarks." Now it was your turn to laugh again. You take a seat next to him, the cold grass making you shudder momentarily.
“Don’t act like you don’t love my remarks Barnes.”
His eyes flicker over to you, amusement dancing in their depths. He leans back on his hands, the motion stretching his shirt across his chest. "I tolerate them, there's a difference." He teases gently, his gaze drifting back out over the lake.
You don’t respond, but smile. A genuine smile. Something you don’t think you’ve done since the day you met him. You admire the view infront of you, letting the comfortable silence float around you and Bucky. After a few peaceful moments, he glances over at you, his gaze sharpening as he notices the relaxed smile on your face. It's a rare sight, and it catches him off guard. He finds himself studying your profile, committing the peaceful expression to memory. "You know what?" Meeting his eyes, your smile fades slowly, “what?” your voice is much quieter, much softer.
Bucky hesitates, his thumb tapping against the ground as he gathers his thoughts. He turns his body to face you more fully, his eyes searching yours. "Do you ever get tired of..." Before he can answer you smirk, “You, yes.” you retort, although there is no heat behind your words. you laugh at your own joke before apologizing, “sorry, you walked right into that one, continue.” Bucky chuckles despite himself, shaking his head in amused resignation. He's come to expect your quick wit by now. "Smartass." He mutters affectionately, before restarting with a slight smirk. "...Do you ever get tired of trying to prove something to everyone all the time?"
Hearing his question, your smile fades quickly. Everything you pushed down, tried to forget resurfaced. “Everyday.” You mutter, your tone is serious now, the playful demeanor gone just like that. Bucky hit a nerve without even knowing. That didn’t mean it went unnoticed by him, something in your tone makes his expression turn serious as well. He watches you carefully, seeing the genuine tiredness behind your eyes that you usually hide so well. He finds himself wanting to know more, to understand the weight that makes you want to just give up sometimes, the weight that mirrors his own.
"Why's that?"
You glance at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Your eyes search his face before turning your attention back to the lake. Focusing on the water you began to manipulate it, letting droplets rise in the air. He watches the mesmerizing display of water hanging suspended in the air, his brow furrowed in thought. “Everyone only sees me for this…that’s why I always crack a joke. I don’t know why I do, maybe to distract them, I-I don’t know.” you trail off letting the water fall slowly. He leans a bit closer, his elbows resting on his knees as he considers your words. "Does it work? The jokes, I mean."
You let out a soft sigh, finally turning to face him, his gaze meets yours, and he's struck by the intensity of your eyes. He can see the depth of your exhaustion, the weight of the expectations placed upon you. He swallows hard, his heart rate kicking up a notch as he realizes just how much he wants to be the one you open up to, the one you trust. Without thinking, he reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. your eyes are no longer lit up with the usual brightness, they’re dark. “you tell me.” You whisper, breath catching in your throat. His touch is gentle, it’s warm, something you’ve yearned for too long. You let your eyes flutter close as his thumb rests just below your lip. Silence fills the air giving you the answer you really didn’t want to hear, “I’ll take that as a no.” you murmur, a weak laugh following.
Bucky's heartskip a beat at the sound of your weak laugh. He's never seen you like this, so vulnerable and tired. He wants to keep touching you, to offer some kind of comfort. Instead, he keeps his hand motionless, his thumb still resting on your lip.
The thoughts racing through your mind are overwhelming, a part of you wants to tell him how he’s been in your head, your dreams, for goddamn too long. The other part wants to keep it bottled in…not wanting to taint him with the baggage you carry. You kiss his thumb softly, before standing up. “Thank you Bucky, I’ll see you in the morning.” Is all you say before walking off.
Bucky sits there for a moment, his thumb still pressed to his lips where yours had just been. He feels a warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling he's been ignoring for too long. He watches you walk away, his thumb still tingling from the gentle kiss. He sits there for a long moment, staring at the retreating figure. Something feels off, unfinished. He wants to call you back, to ask what the hell just happened. But he doesn't. He stands up abruptly, his mind made up. He needs answers, dammit. He follows you. He walks for what feels like hours but no sign of you. He gives up. ‘The morning’ that’s when he’ll tell you.
The said morning comes quicker than you wanted, the battle coming even quicker. Standing alongside Steve you mutter a curse under your breath seeing the alien like creatures crowding the fields. As you’re staring at the barrier, Bucky is staring at you. The moment from last night never leaving his head, he wanted to say something, anything, but right now didn’t feel right. He needed to feel you, see you, he needed you. The barrier falls letting the aliens in, You stay back using your powers to blow each one to pieces. Not far behind you Bucky fights fiercely against the invading aliens, his metal arm a blur of motion as he takes out multiple foes at once. But even amidst the chaos and danger, his eyes keep darting back to you. Each explosion of blood and shattered alien confirms what he already knew - you're devastatingly powerful.
The fight goes on for what felt like years, you can feel your body growing tired. As you’re sending a punch to another alien, you see Wanda out the corner of your eye…oh my god, Vision. You run through the fields hearing captain requesting backup. You swear you’ve never moved faster in your life, Vision has always been so sweet to you, seeing past the facade you put on. You arrive to the small forest just in time to see Vision fall to the ground along with Corvus Glaive, a staff through his body. Just as you crouch next to vision a portal opens up infront of you, the air around you seems to thicken and everything quiets down. Thanos steps through it, eyes gleaming at vision. You glance over at Steve, “That thing is fugly.”
Bucky who wasn’t far behind you, following your steps as soon as you began running, Steps closer to you. His face tightens with concern seeing Vision on the ground. His metal fingers curl into fists at the sight of Thanos. He catches your dark humor about Thanos' appearance and almost smirks. "Remind me to thank you for breaking the tension later," he whispers.
You bite your lip holding back a smile, “I’ll hold you to it Barnes.” The fight begins, everyone throwing themselves at Thanos only to get knocked back further than they came. As Bucky runs to attack him, he gets hit to the ground making your heart tighten. You’re the last standing other than Wanda, her attention focused on Vision. You walk over to Thanos confidently, adrenaline rushing through your veins, “You’re taller than I imagined.” you say, using your humor to hide the fear. You don’t let him respond immediately focusing on his blood, boiling it from the inside out. You can see the strain on his face only egging you on, everything is going accordingly till blood starts dripping from your nose, soon your eyes. The world around you starts to fade black, your head fuzzy. You’ve failed. You hit the ground, groaning in pain, “you almost succeeded little one…if only you weren’t so weak.” Thanos mutters. The last thing you remember seeing was Thor flying in, his axe pressed into Thanos chest, you thought you have won, you thought.
Your conscious finally comes back to you, you immediately scramble to Bucky, holding his body in your arms. “Barnes?” you whisper. Avengers around you - some injured, some in pure shock. But your first thought is him. He slowly opens his eyes, blood caked around them, voice barely above a whisper. "Hey... you look like shit." He tries to joke, despite the pain evident in his eyes. The laugh that leaves your lips only breaks his heart further, the sound coming through a choked sob. “You don’t look any better.” You mumble.
He attempts to smile, but it's more of a grimace. He looks up at you, his gaze filled with a mix of affection and concern. "You okay? You took a pretty hard hit there." He reaches up to touch your face, his fingers gentle despite his injuries.
Your eyes close momentarily once again feeling his touch, “I’m okay…don’t worry about me.” Your voice is soft, just what he needed to hear right now. Your eyes linger on his before leaning in, just as your lips are about to finally meet his, they turn to dust. Your eyes widen in shock, no…no, this isn’t happening. “Bucky?” You whisper. His body turns to ashes in front of your eyes, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You break down holding the air around you. You never got to tell to him you cared about him just as much as he cared about you, how much you thought about him over the years…how much you loved him. As you break down, holding the air where he once was, a small smile forms on his lips. His consciousness lingers for a moment, his soul torn from his physical form. He sees you, holding his ashes, crying. Knowing how much you cared for him now, he looks at you with love, his heart full, His final thought is of you, of your smile, your laugh, your strength. He’s found his person.
𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: Despite being one of the most powerful and overall dangerous members, you're known as a ray of sunshine, always optimistic and always making the best out of the worst. He however, is quite the opposite. Right now, you were in the kitchen at the avengers compound, making some strawberries and chocolate. It was late evening, everyone was asleep. You were up watching stuff due to your usual problems with insomnia, but you couldn’t Ignore the rumble in your stomach. Humming a soft tune of a familiar song you couldn’t remember. Your hands were attached to the knife as you cut the fresh strawberries infront of you, glancing over at the stove, your chocolate melted slowly, the scent lingering through the kitchen, filling your senses with delight. Caught up in the moment you didn’t notice Bucky entering the kitchen, to be fair he was as quiet as a mouse. His deep, gruff voice, clear he had just awoken startled you, making you drop the knife a little too loud on the counter. “Jesus Bucky…”
He raises a brow at your reaction, taking a sip of his water. He sets the glass down on the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. He seems almost...amused by your small jump scare. “Didn’t mean to startle ya doll.” My eyes follow his hands as he sets the glass back down, when did he even…? Anyways. I smile warmly at him, hand over my chest, feeling my heart rate quiet down. “that’s okay, what are you doing up? Did I wake you? I’m so sorry if I did.” The words stutter out, he always did make me nervous. He moves closer, leaning against the counter beside you. His usual stoic demeanor softens slightly as he catches the scent of chocolate. "No…no, couldn't sleep. You didn't wake me." He pauses, watching your hands work with the strawberries.
I nod my head focusing my attention back to the knife in hand, I can’t help but blush at the proximity between Bucky and I. He’s not the most talkative person but he always keeps a conversation going with me, makes me feel…loved. A few moments later, I’m popping the plate of chocolate covered strawberries into the freezer. Bucky hasn’t said much since he’s been in here, just observing, I break the silence humming the same tune from earlier.
His eyes never leaving you as you hum that tune. He can't quite place it, but it's soothing in a way that only you manage to be. He watches as you put the plate in the freezer, his gaze lingering on the way your fingers brush against the handle. Finally turning to face Bucky, my eyes meet his as he is already looking at me. “Hi” my tone is softer than before, his eyes melting my heart. I smile warmly at him, the same smile that spreads across my face anytime my eyes catch a glimpse of his. There's a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost like he's fighting a smile. He doesn't do warm and fuzzy often, but something about your genuine smile makes him want to try. He suddenly straightens up. "How'd you get that cut on your finger?"
My brows furrow just as quickly as his did looking down at my finger, there it was, a small cut, barely noticeable. “I’m not sure…do you think any blood got on my strawberries?”
The frown that appears on your face, throws Bucky for a loop, his heart racing as he notices it. He can't help but chuckle at your expression, finding it adorable that you're more worried about your strawberries than the small cut. He reaches out and gently takes your finger in his calloused hand, examining the tiny cut. "It's barely a scratch." He's not usually one to notice small details, but he finds himself studying your face more than the cut on your finger. Your stomach flips more times than It should, the feeling of his surprisingly warms hands on yours, has your cheeks darker than the strawberries. You can’t help but admire his face, his squinted eyes, barely creased at the corners. His soft lips parted ever so slightly, and his small nose scrunches while examining the scratch. The same thoughts that are running through your head are in bucky’s just as much as yours, he can't help but notice the way your cheeks flush under his scrutiny, making you look even cuter than usual.
“It’s all good.”
His voice pulls me from my thoughts, focusing my attention back onto the cut. “Oh! my strawberries should be finished by now.” I pull the plate from the freezer placing it infront of Bucky, “you ever had these before?” He pulls the plate closer, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the chocolate-covered strawberries. He's had his fair share of sweets, but something about these looks particularly enticing. He picks one up, examining it carefully before bringing it to his mouth. "No, I don't think so."
my eyes follow his movements, almost trance like. He’s so intriguing, it’s hard not too, “It’s my favorite snack, always had a sweet tooth.” I pick one up, bringing it to my lips taking a slow savoring bite. The pretty blush color from the strawberry leaving a tint on my lips.
His eyes linger on your lip, the faint blush of the strawberry tinting your smile a shade that seems to taunt his thoughts. He takes a bite of his own strawberry, the rich chocolate melding perfectly with the sweet, juicy fruit. The sight in front of you is too die for, his lips quirk up ever so slightly into a smile, barely ghosting on his lips. His eyes flutter close momentarily, allowing you to really take in his features for a moment longer. When he opens his eyes again, they lock onto yours. There's a softness there that you rarely see, a warmth that seems to draw you in. He sets the half-eaten strawberry back on the plate and leans in closer, his voice low. "You have chocolate on your lip."
my cheeks flush immediately, almost embarrassed. I can only gaze into his eyes, seeing the warmth in them has my head fuzzy, “can you?” I say softly, leaning in a bit closer. Without breaking eye contact, Bucky reaches out with his thumb, gently brushing it across your bottom lip. His touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to the callouses on his fingers. He lingers for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Your breath hitches, not at his touch, but the way his eyes linger on your lips. Your eyes meet his, flickering between the two blue orbs before pulling away from his embrace. “thank you.” I whisper.
𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐑: the sun comes shining strong through my window. My eyes focused on the ceiling fan spinning quickly above me. Finally having enough energy I sit up swinging my feet off the bed letting them lead me to the bathroom. A few moments later, teeth and hair brushed, I walk in the living room, eyes immediately landing on Buckys. I flash him a warm smile as I usually do, before taking a seat on the sofa a few spots away from him. Even though we’re dating, he’s still getting used to the comfort, so I give him all the space he needs till I know he’s ready. Bucky is sitting on the armchair, a book open on his lap but his eyes aren't focused on the pages. He looks up as you enter the room, his expression unreadable. He watches as you sit on the sofa, the warm smile you give him making his mind reel.
The silence floats in the air comfortably, “mornin buck, how’d you sleep?” I say softly, my voice is still a bit raspy from awakening. He closes the book and sets it aside, his gaze never leaving yours. He rubs the back of his neck, a slight frown tugging at his lips as he tries to formulate a response. "I slept fine," he says gruffly, his voice a low rumble. my brows furrow at his response, easily identifying the lie coursing through it, “I know when you’re lying buck, you gotta get some sleep sweetheart.”
His jaw clenches briefly at your use of 'sweetheart', you call everyone sweetheart, but there’s something about the way it rolls off your tongue whenever it’s directed towards him, for some reason it makes his heart skip beat. He runs a hand through his hair, the signs of a restless night visible in the slight messiness. "How do you know?" he asks, more curious than annoyed. I shrug my shoulders, “I know what insomnia looks like, I’ve been through it countless times.”
He nods, understanding in his eyes. He knows all too well the effects of insomnia, the constant tossing and turning, the never-ending thoughts that keep you awake. "What helps you sleep?" I press my lips together softly, I can’t tell him he’s the reason I sleep so good at night, knowing I’ll get up and see his face…his beautiful smile, his terrible dad jokes he whispers to Steve unaware I heard, his concentrated face while reading a new book, he’s the reason I sleep at night…but he’ll never know that, not now at least. “I’m not sure…”
He notices the slight hesitation in your response, the way your eyes dart away for a moment. He feels a strange pang of jealousy, wondering if there's someone else who helps you sleep so peacefully. He pushes the thought aside, focusing on the conversations instead. "Maybe we should try something new,"
“don’t keep me on my toes Barnes.”
A small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth at your playful jab. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ever tried meditation? Or maybe some of those bizarre sleep apps Steve raves about?" I chuckle softly, everytime steve saw something new he would rant to Bucky and I about it, it’s quite sweet actually. “I’ve tried meditation, I just can’t sit still for that…you know what! I’ve seen people fall asleep to asmr.” my lips quirk up in a smile knowing Bucky has no clue what asmr is.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, the term 'asmr' foreign to his ears. He tilts his head, studying you with a curious expression. "Asmr? What the hell is that?" He asks, his voice laced with a hint of amusement and curiosity. Ive never pulled my phone out so fast, finding a video. I hand the phone to Bucky letting him watch the video of a girl having her hair played with, “it looks very relaxing.”
Bucky takes the phone, his eyes widening slightly as he watches the video. He listens to the gentle whispers, the soft brushing of the comb through her hair, and the soothing sounds of the girl's voice. His expression softens, and he finds himself strangely entranced by the calming scene. "Huh,"
My eyes admire his softened features instead of watching the video, “what do you say buck?” I can’t help the smile growing on my face. Bucky lowers the phone, a rueful smile spreading across his face as he catches your admiring gaze. He shakes his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd be considering hair brushing videos as a cure for insomnia," he chuckles softly, handing the phone back to you. I take the phone from his hand letting my fingers linger on his for a moment longer, “well it won’t cure it, but it’ll help definitely.” I say softly.
He notices the lingering touch, his heart skips a beat at the gentle contact. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it does seem pretty relaxing," He pauses, his gaze drifting back to the video for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "Wanna..."
“Tonight. I’ll come to your room or you can come to mine, and I’ll be your asmrist for the night.” I say playfully before standing up. Bucky rises to his feet as well, a amused smirk plastered across his face. "Asmrist? I think you mean ASMRtist," he corrects, shaking his head in mock disbelief. He steps closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. The giggle that left your lips had buckys heart racing, he swears he’s never heard such a sweeter thing. “Oh so you’re a pro now Barnes, I’ll remember that for tonight sweetheart.” with that I disappear back to my room.
The sun finally sets, and everyone is already in bed. I leave my room, heading to the living room, Bucky is already sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out and his arms crossed over his chest. He looks up at you as you enter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ready?”
“Ready.” he whispers, trying to suppress a grin.
I smile softly taking his hand in mine, leading him to my room. Bucky follows you willingly, his heart pounding in his chest at the prospect of the evening ahead. He settles onto your bed, positioning himself comfortably against the headboard. He watches you with an amused expression as you arrange yourself behind him, his muscles tensing slightly at your proximity. My hands move slowly as they finally make contact with his shoulders, “relax buck, I’ll be gentle.” I whisper rubbing small circles on his arm with my thumb. Bucky takes a deep breath, the tension slowly starting to melt away under your gentle touch. He leans back slightly, allowing himself to be more comfortable against you. "Easy for you to say," he murmurs, though his tone is light and teasing.
my smile never left, only growing wider at his words. I hush him as I move my hands to his hair, letting my fingers run through his surprisingly soft locks, untangling any knots I find. He lets out a soft sigh as you run your fingers through his hair, the gentle touch soothing his frazzled nerves. He tilts his head to the side, giving you better access to the knots and tangles. "You're really good at this," he comments, his voice low and content. I let another giggle fall from my lips, “Here, lay back and rest your head on my thigh, it’ll be a bit more comfortable.” the suggestion picks up his heart rate a bit more than it should’ve, “if you want too sweetheart.” I say softly, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. He hesitates for a brief moment, his cheeks coloring slightly at the intimate suggestion. But with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he slowly lays back, resting his head on your thigh. His breath is steady but his pulse betrays his inner turmoil.
placing my hands back in his hair, I repeat my movements from earlier. “comfortable?” I coo quietly. He nods silently, his eyes drifting closed as you continue to work out the knots in his hair. The warmth of your thigh against his head and the soothing touch of your hands is incredibly comforting, and he finds himself relaxing even further. "Perfect," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. I sigh contently, my eyes admiring his relaxed expression. “I’ve got you buck, you can fall asleep.” I whisper before humming the same tune from last night.
His breath becomes softer and more rhythmic, his muscles completely relaxed now. The humming lulls him even further, and he finds himself drifting in that sweet space between wakefulness and sleep. His hand unconsciously moves to rest on your knee for support. "Don't stop..." the sight has my heart beating out of my chest, I wonder if he can hear it. “I won’t honey, rest. You need it.” I say softly, my fingers moving subconsciously through his hair. He inhales deeply, taking in your comforting scent as he nestles his head further onto your lap. His mind is fuzzy, his thoughts blurring together, but one thing is clear - he feels safe. He feels... loved.
𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐓𝐮𝐧𝐞: You and Bucky are in the living room simply enjoying eachothers company. He’s reading a book and you’re laying down, listening to music. the song you never know the name of comes on, you began humming softly.
So this is love, mm.
He glances up from his book as he hears the familiar humming. He recognizes the tune, though he still doesn't know the name. He pauses, his fingers marking his place in the book, and listens more intently. Completely lost in the song, eyes closed, you don’t notice Bucky watching you instead of reading. You continue humming the song letting a few words slip as you sing along.
So this is what makes life divine…
He sets his book aside, giving you his full attention. He's captivated by the sound of your voice, the way you effortlessly bring the melody to life. He finds himself leaning forward slightly, drawn in by the raw emotion in your humming. "What's that song?" My eyes flutter open slowly landing on his, “So this is love.” I reply finally looking at my phone seeing the song that’s been stuck in my head for what feels like months. "Yeah? What're the words? That part you keep humming..." He reaches out and gently takes the phone from your hands, bringing the screen closer to his face so he can see the lyrics better. His fingers brush against yours, deliberately lingering for a moment. "Mind if I..."
I shake my head handing him the phone, “go for it.”
He takes the phone, holding it close as he reads the lyrics silently to himself. A soft, wistful smile tugs at his lips as he realizes the song seems to echo the tender feelings blossoming between you two. He glances up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. I furrow my brows seeing the same mischievous glint in his eyes that always mirror in mine, “what?” I whisper sitting up.
He chuckles softly, the sound warm and inviting. "This song suits you," he says with a gentle smile. "You've been... singing it without even realizing it. Like it's a part of you now." I chuckle softly, “It only comes to my head when I’m around you.” I say softly. His expression softens considerably at your admission. There's a gentle intimacy in his eyes now, unguarded and vulnerable. He shifts closer on the couch, close enough that the fabric of his shirt brushes against your arm. "That's... interesting," he says quietly. “why’s that?” I reply back, moving close enough, our sides are met with eachother.
He looks down at where your side meets his, feeling the warmth and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. He swallows hard, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "Because," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "it makes me think that maybe..." Before he can answer your voice cuts him off, “maybe I’m in love with you.” I burst out, it felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulder as the words finally leave my lips. His eyes widen momentarily, surprise and joy mingling in his expression. For a heartbeat, he's stunned into silence, but then a slow, warm smile spreads across his face. He turns to face you fully, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Maybe I'm right there with you."
Walking into the safe house has never been so uncomfortable, the clear tension in the air making my skin crawl. Don’t get me wrong, the mission went smoothly, but the snow outside was far too unbearable to try and get home in. Usually I would’ve been ecstatic Bucky and I got a place to ourselves, no avengers, no loud noises, just us. But he’s been so distant, I felt like I was just a random partner on this mission. As soon as we walked through the door, he tossed his bag aside and walked into the kitchen, silently, pouring himself a glass of water.
Seeing him not say a word to me, made my heart shatter. After a mission he would usually, hold me, kiss me, whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Nothing. Does he not love me anymore? Have I done something wrong? The thoughts linger in my head as I toss my bag aside. He hasn’t kissed me, touched me, god he barely has spoken to me. I know the last mission was rough for him, having to fight against Hydra, but did he have to take it out on me? the person who’s been there for him when the others looked at him like a threat. I’m not saying he owes me anything, but we are dating, a simple ‘I love you’ would fix it all, or even a simple kiss. I walk into the kitchen behind him, pouring myself a glass of water aswell, the silence is thick and unbearably uncomfortable. “Are you upset with me? I mean, did I do anything wrong?” the words fall from my lips before I have time to regret them.
Bucky freezes, his hand gripping the glass tightly as he hears your voice. He doesn't turn around, his gaze fixed on the liquid swirling inside the glass. The silence stretches out, and for a moment, he wonders if you'll give up and leave him alone.
Giving him more than enough time to answer…nothing. You can almost hear the soft crackling of the fire behind us, it’s so quiet. I sigh deeply, he won’t even look at me for fucks sake. “Nevermind.” I say my voice barely above a whisper. I walk out of the kitchen, boots clicking on the ground breaking the silence.
A familiar guilt washes over him as he hears you retreat. He sets the glass down hard on the counter, causing it to rattle. Without a second thought, he moves quickly, catching your arm before you can leave the room completely. His voice comes out rough and quiet "Wait."
Now he wants to speak to me?
The tug on my arm stops my movement, the cold, blissful feeling of his metal hand wrapped around my arm makes my heart clench, god I’ve missed his touch. I don’t move, speak, or even look at him, the tears building in my eyes already threatening to fall. His grip tightens slightly as he notices your resistance, and the vulnerability in your silence breaks something inside him. With his free hand, he gently turns you to face him, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the tears threatening to fall "Hey... hey, look at me,"
His words sting. I haven’t heard his voice in what feels like months, the softness of it making my stomach turn. I can’t let him see me like this, vulnerable, broken, just purely upset. Not after how he’s treated me. my eyes land on his briefly before dropping to my feet.
His metal hand moves to your chin, gently lifting it so he can see your eyes again. He sees the way you won't meet his gaze, the way you're trying to hide your tears.
His voice drops lower, pleading "Dammit, look at me,"
I finally give in hearing the pleading crack in his voice, I look up meeting his eyes. All the defenses I’ve built come crumbling down seeing him like this. I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth, attempting to hold back the tears. As your eyes finally meet his, you can see the lump form in his throat. The sight of your tears, the way you're trying to hold yourself together for him—it guts him. His thumb gently wipes away a stray tear that escapes down your cheek.
There it is, his gentle touch gliding across my cheek, that’s all it took for me to break down. The tears start flowing uncontrollably, the sobs I held in are now falling from my lips quietly. I pull away from his touch, turning away to avoid his gaze.
His heart aches watching you sob quietly as you turn away. He knows his silence has caused this pain and he feels utterly ashamed. Hesitantly, he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest. His voice is low and heavy with regret, the sweet comfort I usually yearn for sends me over the edge, the pain, the suppressed feelings I had turning into rage. I push him away, meeting his gaze once again.
“No…you don’t get to do that James. You can’t push me away for months, become distant, cold, then try to comfort me when I finally lose it. And you still haven’t said anything!” the words come out shakey, fighting through the choked sobs. a quiet scoff leaves my lips, “I can’t do this right now.” Turning on my heels, I walk down the hallway of the safe house disappearing into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me.
He stands rooted to the spot, watching you disappear into the bathroom. He hears the lock click into place and it feels like a physical blow. He sits down on the couch, running his hands through his hair, trying to find the words that have abandoned him.
Staring into the mirror, my hands gripped onto the counter. The mascara leaking down my face, my eyes now puffy from finally letting out the tears I’ve been holding in for so, so long. I stand there for a moment longer wiping my face clean, taking a deep breath I open the door, walking back to the living room. He better have a good explanation. He looks up as you emerge from the bathroom, his expression is still and haunted. He stands up, his eyes locked on yours, but he doesn't speak. He simply holds out his hand, palm up, as if expecting you to place something in it.
I tilt my head confused, then my eyes drift to the promise ring on my finger. The ring he gave me for our anniversary, “I’m not giving the ring to you, we’re not breaking up Barnes.” My tone is much softer than before, I just want to understand why he’s been acting this way. He lets out a shaky laugh, hearing the softness in your voice but also the steel behind it. He drops his hand slowly, realizing his gesture may have been misinterpreted. His eyes, usually so guarded, are now raw and vulnerable as they meet yours.
I catch his hand before it meets his side, holding it firmly. “just tell me…why?” my voice coming out as a whisper as I pull him down on the couch next to me. He sits heavily beside you, his shoulders slumping in defeat. For a long moment, he stares at your intertwined hands, struggling to find a way to articulate the tumultuous emotions that have been tearing him apart. Finally, he looks up, his eyes filled with a haunted sincerity. My lips quivers ever so slightly, the way he’s looking at me, eyes full of sincerity, regret, and god…who knows what else.
“don’t push me away James…I can see it in your eyes.”
His gaze flickers briefly away before meeting yours again, a heaviness settling in his eyes. "I...I thought I was protecting you." The words shudder out, raw and painful. "Seeing what I've done, who I am...I didn't want to taint you with that darkness."
My other hand covers his gently, my eyes never leaving his as the words fall from his lips. “Baby…no. That’s not you anymore, whatever those hydra men told you. Don’t believe them. I love you for you. Through thick and thin…remember when you had that nightmare and you accidentally woke me up, I stayed awake with you until you fell back asleep. Even after that I stay awake to make sure you got the sleep you deserved, the comfort you deserve…the love you deserve.” I can feel the tears in my eyes building up slowly, I swallow them down seeing his, the sight making my stomach churn. “I mean it James, I love you.” I say my voice barely above a whisper.
His other hand comes up to cup your face completely, pulling you closer. His forehead rests against yours softly, breathing you in. "I know... I know you do..." His voice breaks slightly, the weight of his mistakes crashing down on him. "After those bastards got in my head..." my hands let go of his before coming up to cradle his face, my touch gentle and movements slow. “I know…I know.” I tried my best to reassure him, I truly will never really know how he feels and it makes my heart break. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he savors the gentle comfort of your hands on his face. A single tear slips free, rolling down his cheek and onto your fingers. "They made me... They made me doubt everything. Myself, my past, my future...even you."
He completely melts into your touch, one arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other hand tangles in your hair. For the first time in weeks, he feels like he can breathe properly. "I'm sorry... I'm so fucking sorry..."
my heart skips a few too many beats hearing his pleas, I’ve never seen him in such state. “I forgive you Bucky, I always will.” my tone is soft and comforting, I know what he went through and god forbid he ever gets like that again. The sleepless nights he stayed up, while I slept unaware. The days he threw on a smile for me, and I had no idea…till now. Be considerate of the ones you love. He told me this. The sentence running through my head, as my fingers run through his.
