onceuponastory's library

“Bucky, you look exhausted.” Bucky chuckles softly, raising a brow at his girlfriend, who’s snuggled under a ton of blankets and pillows and is clearly fighting a losing battle to keep her eyes open.

“I think you’re the exhausted one here, sweetheart. Why don’t you go to bed?” he prompts, turning off the movie they were watching and walking over to her. 

Or…the movie that Bucky was barely paying attention to, too consumed by his own thoughts. He’s been like that a lot these past few weeks. Drowning in his guilt and hatred, caused by his time as the Winter Soldier. He kneels down, gently and tenderly cupping Y/N’s face in his hand. Y/N smiles, snuggling into his palm and gazing up at him with so much love and affection that it shatters Bucky’s heart all over again. She loves him so much, and has done so much good for him. He’s lost count of the number of times she’s stayed up all night, holding him as he sobbed, comforting him after yet another nightmare, or just sat with him in the quiet, there if he needed anything. He loves her so much and doesn’t know what he ever did to deserve her. But lately, Bucky has been feeling like he doesn’t deserve her. Or any of it. No kindness, no softness, no love. Perhaps someone as broken as him can never be repaired.

After all, with all the blood on his hands, why does he get to live happily with the love of his life after all the hurt and pain he caused? 

“Promise me,” she pleads, placing her hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” There she goes again, caring more about him than herself. That makes Bucky feel even worse. 

Why didn’t he just die in that damn fall? That would’ve made things so much easier. He wouldn’t have all this trauma, and Y/N wouldn’t have to deal with him and all his issues. But then, he feels even worse. He’s had some wonderful times with her, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky has finally felt at peace. She's undeniably the best person who has ever come into his life. 

But his peace was short-lived, and soon his ugly thoughts reared their heads again. And soon, the whispers of doubt took root in his mind, making him believe their words. Telling him that if she truly knew what he was capable of, and of all the ugly things he’s done, she’d never want to see him again, or think of him so highly.

He’s not a hero. He’s a monster.

And so, he's saying goodbye. Not for too long. He simply needs some quiet time to himself so he can sort through his problems. He’ll text her early in the morning, saying he got called away on an urgent solo mission with little time to prepare. It’s not entirely unbelievable - it’s happened before. And she’ll believe him. She always does. After all, what reason would he have to lie to her? She would never have imagined Bucky was capable of the harm he was about to inflict. But Bucky doesn’t even feel surprised he can inflict that pain. 

Because that’s all he does. Cause pain.

Y/N stands up, her fingers still intertwined with his. “Come on, let’s go to bed.” She moans. “You need to sleep. They're working you too hard.” She shakes her head as they walk up the stairs, his arm holding her close for the last time in god knows how long. Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“I’ll be sure to tell them that.” 

In their bedroom, she snuggles under the covers, her tired eyes focused on Bucky. He lingers by the door, looking at all the pictures of them both covering the walls. A knot of unease tightens in his stomach.

Does he really want to abandon all this? He’s not so sure anymore. There’s a picture of him and Steve too, with the other Howling Commandos, smiling and laughing. Y/N insisted they put it up, so that Bucky has a connection to his past, to who he really was - a soldier and a hero, rather than just a weapon. However, by the time those pictures were taken, Bucky was already well on his way to becoming the villain, his descent into darkness far deeper than anyone suspected. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asks, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“In a minute.” He can’t even think straight, his heart pounding against his ribs. Perhaps this was a mistake. Maybe he should stay; just tell her or the others the truth about how he’s feeling, instead of running. Oh god, he can’t do this. His legs feel like lead, his throat tightens, and his lungs burn with each breath. 

“Bucky?” She sits up, concerned now. “Are you okay?”

He swallows hard, nodding. “Y-Yeah.” he stammers. “Of course.” He lays on the bed beside her, kissing her forehead and pouring every ounce of love that he could into it. “Just... thinking.” Luckily, she seems to believe him for now, laying back down with him.

"You know I worry about you," she says, her voice full of concern.

“I do,” he replies, a slight smile gracing his lips. “But you don’t have to do that.” She smiles over at him, squeezing his hand. 

“I do. Because I love you.” She whispers.

“I love you too. So, so much.” Bucky whispers back, pulling her closer and holding her as tightly as he can. His heart aches and he doesn’t want to let her go, but deep down, he knows he has to.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” she says, her lips brushing against his in a soft peck, not knowing that it would be the last kiss she’d ever give him for a while.

“Night, Y/N.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” she asks, a hopeful note in her tone.

“…Yeah.” 

“Bucky.” She gives a weary shake of her head, almost asleep by this point. “Promise me. Please.”

I can’t. He thinks. So, he simply nods, and whispers: "Just go to sleep, darlin'." That seems to be enough for Y/N, and Bucky soon feels her go still against him, fast asleep. He kisses the top of her head again, sniffling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Even if I'm gone for a while, I will always come back to you. I promise.”

~ * ~

The sea crashes against the building, gulls and other sea birds’ cries filling the air. If Y/N turns her head in just the right way, she can even register the faint scent of salt in the air. Closing her eyes, she sighs softly. She longed to be out there, free and happy. Like the heroes and heroines in her stories, free to do whatever they want and travel wherever they want with no one to hold them back.

Instead, she’s trapped here, about to sign her life and her happiness away with nothing she can do about it.

The door opens, hitting against the wall with a loud bang. Y/N doesn’t even flinch anymore, already accustomed to her father’s intimidating presence and all the ways he makes it known. “Good, you’re ready.” He says, stepping in front of her and looking her up and down, his gaze scrutinising her for any imperfections. Her eyes drift beyond him, gazing at the sea and the horizon. “What are you looking at?” He snaps, turning his head to follow her gaze. “For god’s sake.” He mutters. “The sea again?”

“I was just looking, Father.” she responds, her voice soft.

“You’re always ‘just’ looking.” He lets out a derisive snort. “Just asking, just reading, just dreaming, just hoping for something else. When will you get your head out of the clouds, and stop with the disobedience?” he demands, his voice raising in volume.

“I don’t see the harm,” she retorts. "It's not as if-"

“I doubt Brock will like it either.” He huffs, ignoring her. The mention of her fiancé's name sends a shiver down her spine, and the bitter taste of bile rises in her throat.

Brock Rumlow, the son of her father’s late business partner, and heir to his fortune. It’s all the people in their town can talk about. How much sense it made to arrange a marriage between their offspring and continue the family business for generations to come, the unwillingness of the bride be damned.

Brock is just as cruel and cold-hearted as her father. He dismisses her books and business ideas with a condescending sneer, never supporting her goals or dreams, telling her not to trouble herself or ‘fill her pretty head with such matters’ like education or equality. And she’s lost count of the stories she’s heard about other women he’s been seeing, including whilst being with her. This has made her the subject of ridicule throughout society, mocking whispers of: 

“Surely she must know?"

"I doubt it. Her father always says her head is in the clouds. I don't think she would know it was happening. even if she was looking right at it!"

"How mortifying! Can you even imagine it?" following her everywhere she goes.

Yet every time she brings this up, or tries to make her escape, she’s dragged back here. A dull ache pulses in her arm, prompting her to adjust her sleeve and hide the telltale fingerprint shaped bruises. Honestly, she’s given up hope of trying to flee, and resigned herself to being trapped here forever. Her chest tightens, her head fuzzy. And this time, she knows it’s not because her wedding outfit is far too tight and restrictive. 

“He’s already told me as much, you know, and I agree,” her father continues. "Do you believe he actually enjoys being the subject of ridicule? Or that I do?! That all people say about you is how foolish you are to dream?!”

“You’re hardly a laughing stock, Father.” She says. “If anything, it’s me who is.” she murmurs.

“Do not back talk me.” He snaps. “Once you are married, Brock will ensure you become a true lady of society, one suitable for his position.” The thought makes Y/N shudder, and her eyes drop, her gaze now intently focused on the floor.

She’s always too much or too little of something. 

Never just right. 

Never good enough. 

Tears threaten to spill from her eyes at the thought, and she bites her lip so hard she tastes blood, desperately trying to prevent her sobs from escaping.

“Smile, for god’s sake.” her father mutters, lifting her head to meet his. When she doesn’t respond, he leans closer, breath hot on her cheek. “Do you understand me?!”

"Y-Yes, Father," she stammers, her voice trembling slightly. A small, forced smile graces her lips as she nods.

“Good.” he looks her up and down once more. “After all, it is your wedding day. Looking so unhappy makes me look bad too.” He opens the door to the room, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t try another of your escape attempts.” he warns.

And with another slam of the door, Y/N is finally alone again.

As she and her father approach the end of the aisle, the pounding of Y/N’s heart is now so loud, she can hear it in her ears, intense enough to drown out the greetings Brock and her father give each other. Brock approaches, leering at her, and her stomach churns, her chest tightening with every breath. The priest moves forward, a warm smile gracing his lips. 

If anybody knew she was doing this under duress (and given the looks she got as she walked down the aisle, she definitely suspected people did), nobody wanted to say a word to stop it. The truth of her reality truly hits her then, and her eyes wells up with tears once more.

But before the priest can even say a word, the doors swing open, and a figure saunters in. Immediately, every head in the room turns towards the door, and shocked, furious whispers fill the air.

“Is that?”

"I don't believe it! How dare he?!"

“It can’t be true! Surely not.”

“How dare he show his face here?” Y/N’s father huffs angrily, stepping closer. The crowd parts, and a hush falls as the figure emerges at the top of the aisle. Y/N gasps, recognising him immediately.

After all, his face appears on most of the town's wanted posters. 

Living so close to the sea, Y/N has become well accustomed to tales of pirates plundering ships for their riches. After all, it’s all her father and Brock can talk about with their friends. ...Although it's more to boast that their ships are still safe, rather than concern for others.

But while many pirates are rumoured to sail in the waters beside her town, Bucky Barnes is the most feared, a legend whispered in hushed tones, full of stories of his brutality. Of treasures plundered ruthlessly, and of rivals, their ships reduced to burnt wrecks or sunk beneath the waves without a moment's hesitation. 

And now, he’s at her wedding. 

She didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow he looks far more intimidating in real life than on his wanted posters. He’s tall, and his metal arm gleams in the beams of sunlight peeking through the clouds and through the window. His brunette hair, slightly messy and tangled from the sea air, is pulled back partway into a bun, framing a stubbled face with patches of grey on his chin. Dressed head to toe in black, coat and all, a faint scent of smoke clings to him. Y/N also notices a thin, pale scar beside his left eye. However, Bucky pays her no mind, his piercing blue eyes focused intently on Brock and her father. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” he says. His voice is deep and cold. “Forgive the intrusion. I would’ve waited until the priest asked for any objections…but my patience has run out.” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Y/N’s pulse quickens, and she looks to her father and Brock.

“What in god's name are you doing here? How dare you-“ her father sputters indignantly, but Bucky cuts him off.

“I’m here to collect my payment.” 

“Payment? What in god’s name is he talking about?” she asks, speaking for the first time. Bucky’s eyes flicker to her, and he raises a brow, looking her up and down with a smirk. Y/N hates the feeling that hits her then. Because no matter the amount of blood that undoubtedly stains his hands, or his intimidating nature, Y/N can’t deny how drawn to him she is, or that she finds this blood-soaked, murderous pirate undeniably attractive.

“Oh, you didn’t tell your daughter, our beautiful bride to be, about our arrangement? My, how unfortunate.” Bucky chuckles, only adding to her irritation. 

“Can someone please tell me what is going on here?” she demands angrily.

Even if him calling her beautiful did reignite her feelings towards him. If only slightly. 

“Speaking of,” Bucky muses, ignoring her question. “I’m surprised I didn’t receive an invitation to this spectacle. I’m the one financing it, after all.”

“Excuse me?" Y/N frowns.

“Silence. This doesn’t concern her.” Brock hisses. Bucky scoffs.

“Oh, I think it does.” He responds, another smirk playing on his lips. That only makes Y/N even angrier. Once again, she’s not enough, not smart enough to know about her father and fiancé’s dealings, and it’s treated like a joke. “After all, does she know that you two,” he points to her father and Brock. “Gambled away her inheritance and dowry?”

“You did what?!” she gasps, outraged.

“My darling, why would you ever believe a pirate like him-” Brock says, a condescending sneer on his lips. He steps closer, and she flinches, instinctively moving away from him. Bucky’s eyes narrow, watching Brock’s intense glare, and how Y/N’s body trembles whenever he comes closer. A sense of indignation burns within his blood. He always knew Brock Rumlow and Lord Y/L/N were vile and unscrupulous men, but seeing Y/N, the innocent pawn in their schemes, for the first time ignites a deeper hatred within him.

And for the first time in a long time… Captain Bucky Barnes feels a sharp ache in his chest, and a wave of pity washing over him.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, my lady, but your father, fiancé and I have a deal.” Bucky explains.

“Don’t you dare,” Brock sputters, his face contorted with anger. "It’s all lies, I have no dealings with-" Bucky cuts him off when he places his sword at his throat.

“Now. As I was saying…” Y/N watches Bucky, trying to gauge his feelings. Oddly enough, he seems… disappointed that he has to be the one to break the news to her, and angry that she had no idea. She can’t help how she feels her heart skip a beat at this revelation, that finally someone cares enough to let her know about something for once. But then, she remembers how complicit Bucky is in everything, and that feeling fades. “They met me in the pub after one of their failed gambling trips, recognised me instantly, of course,” Y/N rolls her eyes. Pompous asshole. “And we came to an agreement. I rob ships and places to keep them on top, and in return, I receive a cut and the freedom to keep doing so once the wedding goes through, thanks to your father’s connections.”

“Lies! It’s all lies!” Her father insists. “How dare you interrupt this day with such baseless accusations?!” 

“Oh, shut up, you pathetic piece of shit.” Bucky snaps. Y/N gasps. No one had ever dared to speak to her father that way before. “I should’ve known trusting you was a terrible idea, but I refuse to let you escape the consequences. I’m here to collect my payment, and what better time to do it?” He steps back, lowering his sword from Brock’s neck. “And isn’t it time Y/N learned the truth about the two of you?”

“Is this true?” Y/N demands. Brock and her father exchange an uneasy glance, neither sure what to say. Y/N’s stomach churns, a mix of confusion, hurt, and anger brewing deep in her gut. And also… vindication. For so long, she knew Brock and her father were horrible people who cared about nothing but money and themselves, and finally she’s been proven right.

She just hates how she’s been an unwilling pawn in it the entire time. “You stole my dowry?! M-My inheritance?!” she spits, her voice trembling. “When were you going to tell me?”

With a dismissive scoff, Brock simply rolls his eyes. “We were hoping you wouldn’t find out like this, or at all.” He lets out a soft, amused chuckle. Like it’s all just a big joke. A surge of anger courses through her, and Y/N clenches her fists. 

“You disgust me. All of you. You have no respect for others, least of all for me-” Brock approaches, his hand raised. Bucky rushes forward, coming to her defence.

But before either of them can react, Y/N is suddenly shoved forward, stumbling towards Bucky. He catches her immediately, pulling her close and holding her tightly against his chest. His body is warm, despite his coming in from the cold, and the cool metal of his arm against her skin. He smells like smoke, as she originally thought, but she can also detect a mixture of other scents. Of whisky, the salty sea air, of musk and sweat. 

He smells…rather intriguing, actually.

But just as quickly as she’s in his arms, burying his nose into his chest, Bucky gently pushes her back again. His eyes narrow once more as they look over her, and for a split second he registers something, his gaze softening. 

But it’s gone before she can dwell on it, so quickly she wonders if she imagined it. If she hoped for a split second that this man had a heart, and that anyone cared about her enough to fight for her.

But of course not.

“Take her.” Brock smirks. “There’s your payment.”

“You repulsive, pathetic man.” Y/N snaps. “How dare you use me like this?!” Bucky lets out a noise, something sounding like a chuckle.‌ 

“Very well.” Bucky nods.

“Excuse me?” Y/N demands, her eyes flashing with anger. “Don’t I get a say in this?” But Bucky is already leading her toward the door. “Father?!” she gasps, horrified and in disbelief.

Her father just stands there, watching the scene unfold without a word.

She struggles in Bucky’s arms, his grasp tightening. Nobody steps forward to help her, terrified to even approach the legendary, ruthless captain. 

“Stop struggling.” Bucky hisses. He kicks open the door, and the pair spill into the chill air.

“No!” she snaps, squirming and kicking. “How dare you?! How dare possessive men like you think you have any claim over me, or t-that my worth is tied to my wealth or my body?! You ruined my life!”

“I can assure you, I’ve done no such thing.” he says, his voice low, his patience clearly waning.

“You’re literally kidnapping me right now, you-”

Bucky doesn’t answer, continuing to pull her through the streets towards the docks, ensuring they’re kept out of sight. His lack of response, and his refusal to admit or acknowledge what he’s doing only makes her angrier, and her escape attempt more determined. But Bucky is strong, his metal arm holding her back.

“Will you stop?!” is all he says once they’re aboard the ship. She’s about to bite back, tell him he has no right to be so angry at her, that she is the one who deserves to be angry. But Bucky’s eyes move away from her face, landing on something else. His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow, the icy blue sparkle darkening. “Y/N. Who did this to you?” he demands. 

“W-What?” she frowns, blinking in confusion. She follows Bucky’s gaze. When she sees what she’s looking at, her blood runs cold. In the scuffle, her dress sleeve must’ve rolled up, exposing the bruises on her arm. 

“Y/N.” Bucky repeats. “Who did this to you?” She stays silent. Because what is there to say? Tell the pirate Captain who just kidnapped her that yes, her fiancé is violent? That her father knows and turns a blind eye, because he’s just as bad? Bucky steps closer, and she flinches, her heart pounding so hard it could break out of her chest.

The second she flinches, Bucky stops. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t hurt you.” he says, his voice warmer, softer. She still watches him, terrified, like prey backed into a corner.

Why does this kidnapping feel like the first time someone has ever cared for her before?

He raises his human hand. “May I?” 

He doesn’t move until she nods tentatively, and even then he continues to move slowly, gently dabbing her under eyes with his handkerchief. His skin brushes against her slightly, and it tingles. When Bucky sees what’s there, he tenses. The makeup did a good job of covering it before the ceremony, but the unmistakable remnants of a black eye still linger. “Was it Brock?” he asks, and she nods. “And the bruises?” Another nod. “Sick bastard.” he huffs.

“You worked with him.” She snaps back, her voice sharp.

“I know,” he nods. “But I had no other choice. It was for my crew and I’s survival. It was years ago, we were desperate for money.”

“You still did it.” He sighs, nodding.

“You’re right. If I’d have known he was doing this to you, though….” his metal arm clenches, whirring. “There’s no excuse for people who hurt the innocent.” Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Please don’t act like you’re the hero in this story.” Bucky raises a brow. “You don’t get the reputation of being a bloodthirsty, murderous pirate without good reason.”

“I’m a pirate, Y/N. I’m not a monster.” he shakes his head. “That was merely for show back there, and the stories about me are greatly exaggerated.” When she doesn’t respond, he sighs. “I understand your reservations, but you can trust me. I swear I won’t hurt you. I steal, yes. But it’s purely for survival. And my crew and I only hurt people who deserve it.” his voice lowers, and his eyes narrow again. "And your fiancé," he spits. "Definitely deserves it."

Honestly, Y/N doesn’t know what to think. He seems honest, his tone sincere. And judging by the way his facial expression changed when he saw how Brock looked at her and the bruises, he seems to genuinely care about her.

But he still kidnapped her. He still conspired with her father and Brock.

“Why did you take me?” she asks, her voice quiet. “Clearly not for ransom, considering they stole all my-” Her voice breaks, and tears begin to fall. Bucky glances around, checking members of his crew aren't close enough to see her tears, and gently ushers her into his quarters. He offers her a whisky bottle, the scent of the rich liquor making her head spin. She shakes her head, and Bucky takes a swig. “Why are you doing this to me?” she manages to ask through her tears. “Why are you being so nice to me after you just kidnapped me?”

“Have a seat.” He offers, sitting at his desk. Sniffling and too exhausted and frightened to argue back, Y/N sits, sinking into the plush velvet of the chair. “I took you because I saw you.” When she frowns, he continues. “Well, I saw how frightened you were, and how you flinched whenever Brock or your father came near you. And I just knew that leaving you with them wasn't an option.”

“So you…kidnapped me?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” He raises a brow. He’s right, she knows he is. At the very least, she is free from Brock and her father now. She takes a deep breath, feeling as if an immense weight has been lifted from her.

"That's… very kind of you," she murmurs, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Thank you.” At the sight of her smile, Bucky smiles too. 

“No need to thank me.” Immediately, Y/N’s heart rate picks up again, but not with fear this time.

He really is beautiful when he smiles. 

Oh god, why is she thinking this way about her kidnapper?

Her head turns to the window, staring out at the sea as it crashes against the ship. Bucky chuckles softly. “You love the sea?”

“I do. I used to dream of being swept away to uncharted lands by the sea, somewhere far away from Brock and my father. They always told me to stop dreaming, that it was unbecoming of a lady of my stature, but it didn’t stop me.” she explains. Bucky listens intently, completely captivated. “I planned so many escape routes, but they caught me each time.” She sighs. “But I kept dreaming, hoping that one day I’d be free…that one day I’d be sailing on the sea.” And now, here she is, doing just that…albeit not the way she expected.

Seeing the way she looks at the sea, Bucky can’t help but smile. It reminds him of himself as a young kid, just trying to find his place in the world. Still trying to dream. “I love it too.” he chuckles. “Watching the sun rise and set over the horizon, seeing the vast, open sky and all the stars….” He sighs fondly. “There’s nothing like it.”

“Really? I haven’t seen the night sky properly in a long time.”

“I think you’ll love it. Seeing the night sky…it gives me so much peace, and….” he bites his lip slightly, running a hand through his brunette waves. “And I think you could use something like that.” he admits.

“Peace? I haven’t felt that in a very long time.” Bucky’s gaze moves to the floor, his stomach churning as he finds himself unable to meet Y/N’s gaze. Unable to confront what he’s done. He opens his mouth to say something, anything…but then stops, shaking his head. Because what could he possibly say? Apologise for playing a part in destroying her life? For kidnapping her? Sure, it was for her own safety, but he’s not a saint either. She’s right, he’s no hero. 

Before today, he’s never felt like this before, so guilty, so…ashamed. Never had such a desire to be good, to be better.

And he’s definitely never felt so inexplicably drawn to his prisoner before.

But before she can ask what he was going to say, he clears his throat.

“I have a proposition for you.” he offers, and she raises a brow. “You can stay on my ship and have some time to rest and eat, and then you can either stay on board with us with our protection, or we can drop you off on another continent, far away from your father and Brock, with enough funds to get by.”

“Do I have to choose now?”

“Not at all. Take all the time you need.”

“You’d really do that for me?” She asks, still reeling from the fact that a pirate captain is the first and only person in a long time to actually care about her and her safety. Bucky nods. “And how should I know I can trust you?”

“You can’t.” He admits. “But you don't really have any other alternatives, do you? I’m certainly not going to return you to them, or leave you to fend for yourselves with all the other pirates around.” he huffs. Y/N decides not to ask if the other pirates are worse than Bucky and his crew. The look on his face left no doubt that they were.

He’s right, she knows he is. She really doesn’t have a choice here. And besides, soon she can get out of here, and get the freedom she always wanted. She just has to endure some time with this…incredibly intriguing pirate captain. Y/N nods, and Bucky’s grin grows wider. 

“Well, Y/N, welcome aboard.”

Sunlight streams through the window, illuminating the room in a soft, golden glow. Birds chirp outside, creating a peaceful melody, and a chill breeze blows through the leaves. It’s quiet, peaceful. Inside, Charlie sits on a chair, fast asleep. Rope binds her to the chair, and her head lolls forward. Sleep and Charlie Cale have… a tumultuous relationship, to say the least. She slept well as a child, but as she grew up, her long shifts at the casino took a toll on her mentally, physically...and especially her sleep. While on the run, sleep was a luxury she couldn’t afford, her senses always on high alert, preparing for danger. 

But in the days she spent with Luca, those short, yet happy days… she was okay.

She was incredible, actually. She was safe. She felt loved. Luca protected her.

And now, it’s all over.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Charlie bolts awake at the voice, her eyes snapping open. “Wondered how long it’d take you to wake up. I’ve just been sitting here watching you drool all over yourself.” Alex chuckles, twirling a knife between her fingers, the blade glinting in the light.

Charlie groans, her body throbbing with a dull ache as she slowly wakes up. A wave of nausea and dizziness washes over her, the world still spinning despite her attempts to blink it away.

“Hey. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Alex snaps, clicking her fingers in front of Charlie’s face. Memories come back then, albeit hazy. A bag over her head, a sharp sting at her neck. Then nothing.

“Luca.” Charlie murmurs, her voice panicked. “W-Where’s Luca…?” Her heart pounds against her ribs, and she writhes in the chair, grunting as she strains against her bindings, desperately trying to free herself. But it makes no difference. Charlie slumps against the back of the chair, tears welling in her eyes as the aching sense of hopelessness floods throughout her blood. She fights the urge to cry, determined not to let Alex witness her pain. 

But it’s too late.

“Aw.” Alex pouts mockingly, her expression soon growing into a smirk. “You don’t remember, do you? I must’ve drugged you pretty strongly. But you have been out for a couple of days.” she laughs proudly, grinning triumphantly. “You broke his heart, remember? So…he’s probably not coming for you.”

“But I don’t love you.” All at once, everything comes rushing back, completely overwhelming her. The pain, the lies… and the heartbreak, the anguish, on Luca’s face. Poor, lovesick Luca’s face. Charlie’s gut twists. She was doing this to save him, and to keep him safe. That’s what matters.

But she still feels like the worst person in the entire world.

“That’s not what I’m interested in right now, though. I went through your pockets when you were asleep, and just look what I found.” Alex chuckles, plunging her knife into the armrest of the chair between Charlie’s fingers, making Charlie jump and ‌cry out:

“Jesus-” Charlie looks up, seeing an all too familiar device dangling from Alex’s grip.

Her panic alarm. Charlie’s chest tightens, sucking all the air out of her lungs. "No. No, no, no."

“How sweet.” Alex chuckles. “Your boyfriend really thought he could save you, huh?”

“You said I broke his heart. And he’s not my-”

“Bullshit.” She scoffs. “I saw the way he looks at you, Charlie. That man is whipped for you. So romantic, isn’t it? Just like a fairytale, with you as the damsel in distress.” Alex pauses, chuckling. “Or would you prefer I call you Lady Galahad?” Alex smirks. Charlie’s blood runs cold, hardening to ice in her veins.

More memories hit her then, sudden and intense, persisting despite her attempts to stop them.

Natalie. The face she sees every time she wakes up, and every time she goes to sleep. The first person she couldn’t save, but the one she wanted to, so, so badly. The failure that’s haunted her ever since. An all too familiar hollow ache, the stinging feeling of failure, drops into her gut. 

“Don’t you ever call me that name again.” she spits, leaning forward despite the pain of the rope digging into her skin. Alex simply laughs. 

“Galahad. The most gallant and perfect of the knights.” She continues, grabbing Charlie's shoulder and yanking her back into the chair. “Doesn’t really fit you though, does it, Charlie?" she chuckles, digging her fingers deeper into Charlie’s shoulder. “I mean, you’re a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, well, being hunted by a serial killer will do that to you.” Charlie snaps. Alex continues, ignoring her.

“That's what this has all been for, right? Trying to help people, save them. To bring justice against people like me. All because you couldn’t keep your best friend alive. Because you failed.” 

That fills Charlie with even more rage. Not because she doesn’t think she’s a failure, no, Charlie knows she is. 

It’s because only Charlie Cale gets to call herself a fucking failure.

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth-“ Charlie orders, her voice breaking. She thrashes against her restraints, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she strains to free herself and reach Alex.

“And then you failed at protecting Beatrix.”

“That was your fault, actually.” Alex shrugs, grinning. Charlie’s urge to wipe that grin off ‌her face intensifies.

“They say bad things come in threes, don’t they? So, let’s see if you're unlucky this time too, and invite Luca to join us.” Alex chuckles, holding the panic alarm aloft, out of Charlie’s reach.

“Y-You really think that’s a good idea?” Charlie stammers, trying to hide her fear. “He’ll bring all his agent friends down here to stop you too. He’s smart, he’ll know this is a trap.”

Alex laughs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. He’s not that smart. He couldn’t even figure out who I was. And I’ve seen how that man looks at you. He would do absolutely anything to find you, Charlie. And he’s so stupidly lovesick, and so determined, he’d do it all by himself, which is exactly what I need.”

She’s right. Charlie knows she is. Luca has always wanted to be the hero, even when it could put him at risk. He would absolutely come for her alone. And that’s because he’s such a good person, far better than Charlie could ever be. That doesn’t make him stupid. It makes him brave. 

Luca told her once that the only reason‌ he got his promotion was because of her, and that she’s the smartest one out of them both. Charlie laughed it off, even though she knew it was wrong. Luca Clark is an incredible agent, much better than he ever gives himself credit for. And god, Charlie wishes Luca could see himself the way she sees him, and realise just how smart, compassionate and committed he is. 

He’s already saved her ass before. 

Now, it's up to Charlie to save his.

Alex’s finger hovers over the button, and Charlie’s eyes widen.

“No. No.” Charlie gasps, her stomach lurching. Instantly, her anger disappears, replaced by pure, primal fear. “He has nothing to do with this, Alex, please!”

“Bullshit. He has everything to do with this.” Alex tilts her head, watching Charlie struggle and panic. “It’s hilarious seeing you panic like this, you know? I thought Charlie Cale only ever wanted to be alone, and only cared about herself.” Charlie grunts and swears, straining and trying with all her might to lean forward and snatch the alarm right out of Alex’s hand. The rope strains against her, burning as it digs into her skin and causing her to swear, but Charlie pushes through it.

“Alex, please.” Charlie begs, tears streaming down her face. “Why don’t you just kill me instead, get it over with. I’m the one you want, it’s always been me! Just-“

“Oh, I am going to kill you.” She chuckles. “But I’m going to kill him first, and make you watch.” 

And with that, she presses the button on the panic alarm.

Meanwhile, Luca is sitting in his car by the side of the road. His head is in his hands, and he groans as he runs his fingers through his hair. His half-finished coffee and fast-food breakfast sit beside him, and he tiredly rubs his eyes. He’s been desperately searching for Charlie ever since she left, with little success… or sleep. Clearly, she wants to be hidden, and considering everything that’s been going on, that’s understandable.

Yet… Luca can’t forget the look on her face when she told him she never wanted to see him again. He’s replayed the scene at least a thousand times since then, trying to decipher every word she said, every shift in her expression, and try as he might, he can’t stop thinking about what that could mean. Or can't stop thinking about the one possibility he doesn't want to confront.

That maybe she wasn’t in danger, and that he was just seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe whatever they had is gone, or it wasn’t even there at all.

Maybe Charlie truly doesn’t want to be found.

Or at least… not by Luca.

But just as he’s about to consider calling it quits, his phone beeps loudly. Immediately, he’s wide awake, grabbing his phone and checking the alert. Charlie’s panic alarm has been activated. His heart pounds against his ribs, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He was right, Charlie is in danger. She’s close by, an hour max. But Luca could make it even quicker than that. 

The thought that this is a little too convenient - that Charlie’s panic button would suddenly activate just as he’s thinking about her, and this could be a trap - crosses his mind, but his determination to find Charlie and keep her safe is so strong that it overpowers everything else. Luca types the address into his GPS, and quickly heads back onto the road.

The address belongs to a house in the middle of nowhere. The paint is peeling off the walls, and a few of the windows are broken too. An eerie quiet hangs in the air, and everything is still. Immediately, Luca’s breath hitches, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He steps up towards the door, pushing it open. The door creaks, the sound echoing through the house. Stepping inside, Luca’s hands instinctively go to his gun as he looks around for any sign of Charlie.

Footsteps approach, and he lets out a sigh. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that-”

But then, hard and cold metal presses against the back of his neck. “Hello again, Luca.” Alex chuckles. “Wasn’t too smart of you to come to an abandoned house all alone, was it?”

“Pointing a gun at an armed FBI agent isn't exactly a smart move either.” Luca retorts, and she scoffs dismissively.

“Pull that on me, and I’ll make Charlie pay whilst you watch.” Luca immediately freezes, his body tense as his breath catches in his throat. He knew it. This was a trap.

“Where is she, Alex?”

“Upstairs. She’s waiting for you.” Alex teases, pressing the gun harder into the back of Luca’s neck. “So let’s walk.”

Sure enough, upstairs Charlie remains tied to her chair, with tape covering her mouth. Luca’s heart stops. He breaks away from Alex, dropping to his knees before Charlie. “Oh my god. Charlie, shit-” he fumbles, his hands still shaking as he tries to remove the rope from her wrists and ankles.

“Uh uh.” Alex tuts, pointing her gun at him. “Sit, Luca.” Luca ignores her, completely focused on helping Charlie. “Hey, didn’t you hear me? I said SIT-”

Luca turns, striking Alex hard across her face. She hisses, stumbling backwards, momentarily disoriented. Charlie blinks at Luca in confusion as he takes the tape off her mouth. That was fucking awesome, but completely unexpected. “Why the hell did you do that?! That’s just gonna piss her off-” 

But as Alex goes to grab Charlie this time, Luca fends her off once more. Charlie watches the pair fighting, wanting to help but not sure how, other than throwing out encouraging words to Luca. The pair fight well, but after a while, Luca fails to dodge one of Alex’s hits, leading to her momentarily gaining the upper hand. Pulling out her gun, she aims it right at Charlie’s temple. “Sit….” she repeats, panting. “Or I’ll shoot her.” Panicked, Luca’s eyes dart between her and Charlie, weighing up what he could do. When he locks eyes with Charlie, she frantically shakes her head, urging him to drop it and do what Alex says. 

And Luca does as he’s told.

“Good.” Alex looks between them both, still keeping the gun pointed at Charlie, a silent warning in case Luca tries anything.

“Alex, let him go, I told you-” 

“Shut up!” She hisses. “Now…I’m going to make you regret ever crossing me.” She pants, her eyes wild with rage and adrenaline. “And we’re going to start with-”

But then, someone violently kicks open the door downstairs, and other voices fill the air.

“FBI! Hands in the air!” 

“What the hell did you do?!” Alex demands.

And everything descends into chaos. Glass breaks, doors are kicked open… and through it all, Luca and Charlie keep their gazes locked on each other. Panicking, Alex tries to make a break for the door, but it’s too late, and she’s easily overpowered by the approaching agents, who subdue her and drag her outside. Charlie pants, trying to make sense of everything. Her heart rate is still going a million miles an hour, pounding in her ears like a drum, and she’s still shaking.

“Guys, can we give her a minute?” Luca asks. Suddenly, he’s in front of her again, gently taking her hands. His touch is warm and gentle, and he runs his hands along her knuckles. “It’s okay. Shh, shh….” he soothes, holding her as she calms down.

“W-What the hell happened?” Charlie gasps, making him chuckle.

“I knew something was suspicious when I saw the house. I called for backup just in case.” He removes the rope that binds her wrists and ankles with a smile. “There you go. You're safe now.”

As soon as she hears those words, Charlie starts sobbing.

“See? I told you it was a good idea to have a panic alarm, didn’t I?” Luca grins, his grin immediately faltering as he realises that wasn't the best thing to say, or the best time to say it.

But Charlie’s too grateful to care. She lunges forward, almost sending Luca to the floor with the speed she tackles him into a hug. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay-“ Charlie sobs into his shirt, and he wraps his arms around her, holding her up as her body shakes. “It’s alright, it’s okay. It’s over now.”

“I didn’t mean what I said, I-she made me do it. She threatened you, and-” Charlie mumbles.

 “I know. I know. It’s okay.” Luca holds her until she calms down. He doesn’t loosen his grip, even when he’s sure she’ll be okay. Because for once, everything in their life is going well for them, and he’s terrified that this is still a dream, that if he lets her go, he’ll lose her forever. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. She smells like home, like new beginnings.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Charlie murmurs. “Are you going to arrest me?”

He has to. They both know it. There’s no way they make it out of this, in any universe. But god, Luca will do everything in his power to make sure they do, even if it's til his last breath.

“No.” Luca insists. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again, Charlie. I promise.”

The common room of The New Avengers Tower is a hub of activity and chatter. Yelena and Ava watch a movie, chatting about the plot, whilst Bob, John and Alexei play cards, the sound of a cheer or laugh occasionally filling the air. The door swings open, and Mel walks in, the sharp click of her heels echoing on the floor.

“Bucky,” she smiles, looking over at the super soldier who’s currently slumped on the couch and scrolling through his phone. “Valentina wants to see you in her office immediately, please.”

The room goes quiet. Valentina wanting to see you is never good news. And alone is even worse.

“What is this meeting? Valentina never told me about this?” Alexei frowns.

“Think it’s just for me, Alexei.” Bucky sighs wearily, pushing himself up.

“...And you too, please, Y/N.” Mel interrupts. Immediately, the New Avengers and Bob all turn their heads to stare at the two of them. 

“Why? I’m not an Avenger-”

“You’re our assistant, though. Maybe you did something wrong-” John suggests, his familiar, condescending smirk playing on his lips. Thankfully, Yelena quickly whispers a: 

“Shut the fuck up.” and Y/N shoots her a grateful look.

Valentina’s office is pristine, full of polished marble and velvet. Y/N has always hated it. It’s like she’s just waiting for people to screw up. Any mistake, any spill would be visible, no matter how tiny. Both in this office and in real life.

“Close the door. Please don’t scuff the floors, I just had those put in.” Valentina says, spinning around in her chair to face them. Y/N can’t help but wonder if Valentina knows how much she looks like a supervillain when she does that. Knowing her, she’d probably relish it. Valentina sips from a glass of champagne, her eyes narrowing as the two approach her.

“Hello, Valentina.” Y/N nods. Bucky already looks bored with this whole thing, but murmurs his own greeting. “You wanted to see us?”

“Care to explain this?” Valentina ignores their greeting, and slides an iPad across the desk. The image shows Y/N and Bucky attending a recent gala. The picture captures Y/N, her head thrown back in laughter at something Bucky is saying, and he’s grinning as he looks over at her. Y/N's smile grows as she looks at the picture, warmth spreading in her stomach from the happy memory.

“It’s a picture of Y/N and I from the last gala.” Bucky grunts. 

“Yes, I know that,” Valentina replies with a dismissive tsk. “Mel, you were supposed to- whatever.” With an exasperated huff, she swipes to the next image. “I meant these.”

The screen is full of comments left on the post. Of course, Y/N’s seen most of them, considering her job as an assistant for The New Avengers. 

However, these comments all focus on one specific thing.

User 1: Y/N and Bucky are so cute together. They’d really be a great couple. Reply: Right?! The way he looks at her!!! User 2: Has anyone else noticed how much Bucky, the grumpy ex-assassin, smiles around Y/N??? IT’S SO CUUUUTE!!! User 3: WE WANT Y/N AND BUCKY!!! User 4: Anyone have any ship name ideas? User 5: They’re WAY more interesting than the Thunderbolts, or whatever they’re called now #sorrynotsorry

“Those aren't the only comments. And Mel has informed me that there are TikTok videos and fan accounts dedicated to you, too. It appears people are shipping you both.” Valentina's brow arches as she looks at them both. Bucky furrows his brow, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Shipping us where?”

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?!" Valentina rubs her temple, irritated. “It means they want you two to be a couple. Mel told me that.” Y/N is about to call out the hypocrisy of her scolding Bucky for his own lack of understanding, but Valentina’s icy glare and Mel’s frantic head shake, warning her to stop, stop her. "Well?" She prompts, raising her brow as she looks at the pair expectantly.

“Well…what?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed. 

“What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

"Well, I didn’t know so many people see us that way..." Y/N explains. Even though she loves her job, she finds it incredibly jarring to realise how visible she is and how much Valentina and others scrutinise and try to dictate her every move.

“Sorry, why is this a bad thing?” Bucky asks. “They just want us to be together; it’s not like they’re sending us death threats or hate, like usual.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Valentina snaps. “The focus is supposed to be on the New Avengers as a group, not their dating lives. You saw it yourselves; someone said you two are way more interesting than the group! We’ve done so much, and yet the focus is always on you two.” She looks between them both, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. Y/N’s heart jumps into her throat. Whenever Valentina is in one of her moods, it’s best to steer clear. And she’s never seen her this frustrated before. “So.” She sips some more champagne, clearing her throat. “I want you two to stay apart from each other.”

“What?” Y/N gasps. “You can’t do that! My job is being an assistant for The New Avengers! It’s my job to be with him all the time!”

“I was going to say you stay away from him, aside from the bare minimum duties of your job, if you’d have let me finish.” Valentina hisses.

“That’s not fair, you can’t punish her for-” Bucky, always the hero, steps in. 

“As your boss, I can and I will.” Valentina counters. “Now, I have to go to a meeting, so you two can talk amongst yourselves. I’m sure we’ll come to an understanding on this.” She smiles, her expression ice cold. “I trust you know the way out.” Y/N and Bucky take their cue to leave, the door slamming shut behind them.

“I can’t believe she’s done this.” Y/N murmurs, still in shock.

“I know.” Bucky hisses. His hand moves as if to comfort her, but he notices the cameras above them, quickly letting it fall back to his side. “Come on. Let’s…talk this out.” he urges, guiding her to another, more secluded room in the compound.

“Are you sure it’s alright in here? That there are no cameras?” Bucky laughs.

“Y/N, I’m an ex-assassin. I know how to spot a camera. This place is a total blackout, we’ll be undetectable.” 

The door clicks shut, and their mouths immediately meet in an intense, passionate kiss. Bucky’s lips kiss down her neck, a playful smirk on his face. “God, you look so gorgeous today.” He whispers, his breath hot against her skin. “It’s so hard to keep my hands off ‌you. You know what you do to me, hm?”

“Watch out you don’t leave any hickeys. Then she really will get pissed at us.” Y/N says, and he laughs again, the sound warm and deep.

“Screw her.”

Y/N and Bucky’s secret relationship started long before that gala. Their relationship began when he joined the Thunderbolts. At first, Y/N found it so romantic and thrilling, that even though Valentina and the others want to know everything about each other, she and Bucky could have this one little thing to themselves, a fuck you to Valentina after all the demands and cruel words she's inflicted on them so far. 

“We have to keep it a secret.” Bucky had said, kissing the top of her head as they laid on her couch on one of the first nights they spent together. “The last thing I want is Valentina interfering in our private lives.” And Y/N agreed. She thought it was a great idea, a moment of rebellion. 

But now, she’s not so sure. Because it sure feels like Valentina is already messing with their private lives. And now Valentina’s aware of how people want them to be together, it could only get worse.

“Bucky, wait.” She says. Immediately, he stops, pulling away from her. 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, did I go too far?” His blue eyes sweep over her, checking she’s okay. He’s so caring, so perfect in every way. How could she ever let him go? Stay away from him as if he means nothing, just because of Valentina?

“No, you’re great. You’re perfect, actually.” He raises a brow, taking her hands in his. 

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” her nickname. She always feels herself melting at that, and at how Bucky immediately knows something is wrong with her without her even having to say she isn’t feeling okay. “Is it because of what Valentina said?” He asks, and she nods.

“I just…she’s going to be more vigilant now, and if she finds out about us-”

“She’s not going to,” Bucky insists, shaking his head. “Sure, maybe we have to spend less time together in public, but this is really no different from how we usually act: being friendly to each other in public, and being together behind closed doors. And besides, we've been doing this for over ‌a year, haven't we?” He lifts her hands, kissing both her knuckles. “I hate it too, but I still get to see you and know you’re mine, and only mine.”

“I guess you’re right.” She murmurs. With a gentle smile, Bucky pecks her forehead. 

“I promise you, everything will be alright.” He whispers, giving her hand a soft squeeze. Y/N nods, squeezing back… but she still doesn’t feel reassured.

A few weeks after Valentina’s demand, The New Avengers are at a press conference. Off to the side, Y/N scans the room, trying not to focus on Bucky for too long, even though it’s impossible to ignore him today. His curly hair is pulled back partway in a man bun, a few loose tendrils slipping out and framing his face. His suit flexes against his muscles and his metal arm, the material clinging to his biceps. 

“God.” she thinks, feeling her throat going dry. “Valentina may be an insufferable bitch who’s interfering with my boyfriend and I’s relationship, but fuck me, she knows how to make him look good.” Y/N almost had a heart attack when she saw him for the first time today, and had to bite down hard on her tongue to compose herself. She feels herself automatically doing it now, as she pictures her and Bucky together, clinging to each other as they kiss, wanting to take things further right then and there. And then Bucky is unbuckling his belt and pulling his trousers down, even though they both know they shouldn’t be doing this….

And even though they had already done exactly that in the bathroom earlier. Fortunately, they’re both well accustomed to quickies in the bathroom and how to remain undetected.

As she scans the room, her eyes land on a member of the press. She’s crossed paths with him a few times. His name’s Tommy, and he’s the entertainment editor for some big gossip magazine. The New Avengers fill their pages a lot.

But that’s mainly because Valentina pays a lot for the privilege.

His eyes land on hers, and he gives her a smile. In response, she gives him a small nod back before going back to checking the room. 

When she looks back, Tommy is still looking at her. Y/N suppresses the urge to grimace. She's met Tommy's type before: smooth-talking sleazeballs, eager to wine and dine you for a story, only to drop you the moment you’re no longer valuable. And Y/N refuses to be his next victim. 

“Hey, Y/N, right?” He smiles, walking over to her as she gathers her notes at the end of the conference.

“I’ve literally met you like five times already, you ass. How do you not know my name?” She thinks, but plasters on a dazzling smile. “Yes, that’s me. So nice to see you again, Tommy.” she says, shaking his hand.

“You haven't changed your mind about that dinner offer yet?” He chuckles, and Y/N shakes her head, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Because of course he can’t be bothered to remember her name, yet he magically remembers all the gossip about The New Avengers and Valentina she must have.

“As I’ve told you before, if you want an interview, let Valentina know and we can schedule a time. I don’t do solo dinner dates with gossip columnists. That’s just asking for trouble.” She retorts, her tone politely joking, yet her words biting. 

Even with her back turned, she can feel Bucky's intense gaze boring a hole into Tommy. She can also sense the tightness in his jaw and the stiffness of his posture.

Quickly, she glances back to Bucky. Sure enough, he’s trying to mask his anger. If looks could kill, Tommy would be a dead man. Thankfully, nobody seems to have picked up on Bucky’s anger, and Y/N gives him a quick: “Don’t.” look. Bucky doesn’t respond, but gives her a look of his own, one saying they’re definitely going to talk about this later.

“Speaking of, I have to go. Bye.” she says, turning on her heel and walking towards the others.

In the limo back to the tower, Ava chuckles, raising her brow. “What happened with you and that reporter guy, Y/N? He was making eyes at you again.”

“Ach! Yes, it was very distracting. The attention is supposed to be on us!” Alexei says disapprovingly.

“He’s not a reporter, Ava.” Y/N scoffs. “He just wants to stir up trouble and gossip, which he’s not going to get. And nobody could ever steal the attention away from you, Alexei.” Y/N reassures. Bucky still hasn’t taken his eyes off ‌her. 

“Good.” he nods. “Mister Soldier!” Alexei turns his attention to Bucky, clapping him on the shoulder. “You are very quiet, you know, it’s unnerving me a little. What do you think about the conference?”

“We all know what he thinks.” John smirks, his eyes flickering to Y/N, and the girls chuckle. Y/N clears her throat, swallowing hard.

“Shut up, John.” Bucky hisses. Thankfully, before they can say anything else, the limo pulls back up at the tower. Everyone hurries out, eager to relax and be out of the spotlight for a while.

“Wait...What does he think?” Alexei frowns, trailing behind.

Later that evening, as Y/N walks back to her office, Bucky appears from a secluded hallway, pulling her down it. “Jeez, you need to be more subtle with these things.” she jokes. Bucky doesn’t laugh.

“The way that asshole looked at you today. It makes me sick.” he says, his voice deep, and angry. “He looks at you like you’re nothing more than a piece of meat. God, I hate him.”

“Yeah, I could tell. Bucky, you need to be more careful, we both do! I already think John and the girls suspect something is up with us.”

“You’re my girlfriend, not his.” Bucky hisses, kissing her. But instead of kissing back, Y/N pulls away. 

“I want to be yours. In public.” She says, and Bucky frowns.

“But we can’t, remember? If Valentina-”

“Are you even listening to me, Bucky? People are already suspecting us. People we see every day! Maybe…we should work out a way to tell people. Not everyone, just people we trust.”

“And you trust people in this tower?” He raises a brow. “Do you really trust someone like Alexei to keep our secret?”

“I trust Mel! She helped you, remember?” Y/N points out. “And I’ve had enough cocktails and gossip sessions with her, I’m sure she’d keep our secret. Hell, she probably understands us, too!” Seeing the look on Bucky’s face, Y/N sighs. “Bucky, please. I don’t want to live like this forever, wondering if I can hold your hand… if I can go outside with you, on a date, not just a work thing. Can you at least consider it?”

Bucky shakes his head. Seeing the hurt look on her face, Bucky’s eyes widen. “No. Shit, sorry. Not no, because I don’t want to go public with you, because I do.” He rambles, fidgeting with his hair. “Just…n-not yet, at least. I want to show you off, too. So, so badly. But I know what Valentina’s like, we both do. And I can’t lose you, or let her keep us apart.” 

“Even though she already is?” Y/N murmurs. He sighs, softly kissing her forehead.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I do want to show you off, fuck, I wanna scream from the rooftops that I’m dating someone as incredible as you, but we just need to find the right time to say it.” He squeezes her hand, kissing her lips just as softly, continuing until he hits just the right spot. “I promise, we’ll go public soon.” he whispers, kissing her again.

Yet… even as she melts into his kiss, deep down, part of Y/N still doesn’t believe him.

Sure enough, the more the weeks go on, the longer Bucky keeps their secret relationship going. And the more Y/N considers cutting her losses and leaving. She loves Bucky, of course she does. She loves him more than anything in the world. But there’s only so many times you can see other couples holding hands, hugging, kissing and saying sweet things to each other in public whilst your own boyfriend keeps telling you he can’t do that with you before you think it’s something that you’re doing.

And their need to keep apart from each other for Valentina isn’t working either. In fact, the fans are clamouring for them even more, causing Valentina to keep driving the wedge further and further between them, like sending Bucky on remote solo missions, or keeping Y/N buried under a mound of paperwork in her office.

And yet, Bucky still isn’t doing anything about it. Not that Y/N is either, but ironically, it seems Valentina is the most invested person in their relationship, even when she’s trying to keep them apart.

It all comes to a head one day when Y/N is picking up coffee. As soon as she enters the coffee shop, she’s immediately aware of all the couples around her. Giggles, hand-holding, gazing into each other's eyes… everything she can’t do with Bucky. Bitterness swirls in her stomach, an acidic, destructive force which she tries to push down, but after so long pushing it down, it’s refusing to stay buried. To take her mind off things, she flicks through the stack of magazines beside the counter whilst she waits for the coffee. But then, a headline catches her eye, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. There, bold and right in her face, are the words:

“The dating life of superhero James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Valentina Allegra de Fontaine comments!”

The article is mostly guesswork, implying that Bucky may have something with random women he’s photographed with, whether they’re women he saved or people he met on the street. Most of the article is dedicated to Y/N herself, with a large paragraph and multiple photos describing her and Bucky’s chemistry and potential relationship. But as promised, there’s also a paragraph from Valentina, where she comments on the rumours and seems to imply there may be more to things than meets the eye. Y/N clenches the magazine in a vice-like grip, the bitterness, rage, and hurt building and growing, creating a dangerous Molotov cocktail ready to explode. 

“Can I take this?” she asks the barista, practically through gritted teeth. “...Please?” The barista nods, slightly unnerved by the look of pure rage on Y/N’s face.

Back in the tower, Y/N dumps the coffee in the common room without another word, turning on her heel and storming out without so much as a hello.

“...What the hell’s her problem?” John frowns.

Y/N storms down the hallway, her fists clenched. Mel’s eyes widen as she sees her approaching, noticing the fire in her eyes.

“Y/N, Valentina’s about to leave, can you do this later? She has to-”

“Oh, she’ll make time for me.” Y/N snaps, opening the door and letting it bang against the wall. Valentina peers up from her desk, her brow raised.

“Good morning to you, too.” Y/N slams the magazine down onto the desk, the pages still open on the article.

“What the hell is this? Why wasn’t I consulted on this?”

“Now, come Y/N, you must know this is an inevitable part of celebrity life.” She chuckles condescendingly, only pissing Y/N off more.

“You told us to stay apart, because you didn’t want the press to focus on their personal lives!” she’s shaking now, grinding her teeth to dust. “But you yourself are more than happy to go to… Tommy and give your side?!”

“Well, he called me, said you weren’t giving him anything useful. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Because you-” she hisses, stopping herself before she breaks something. “You told me you wanted to control the narrative and focus only on their missions!”

“Well, what do you expect? I am controlling the narrative.” She smirks. “Don’t be so upset, you have the biggest paragraph, and I made sure you looked good.”

Y/N scoffs. Of course. Of fucking course she’s only thinking about herself. She always is, even at the expense of everyone else. 

And Y/N’s had enough.

“I’m done with this. I quit.” She says. Valentina splutters, choking on her drink, shocked. “Effective immediately.”

“Excuse me? You can’t-”

“I can, and I will.” Y/N retorts.

“I must say, this is a really inconvenient time to quit, especially with the gala coming up this week.” Valentina points out, and Y/N rolls her eyes, no longer concerned about offending her.

“I’ve done most of the work for it, anyway. Like usual.” 

“And you want to let all that work go to waste?” Valentina stammers, clearly grasping at straws to get her to stay. Seeing how sure Y/N is about this, she sighs. “Okay, fine. At least stay till the gala and help run it, please? After that, you’re free to go wherever you want.”

“Fine.” Y/N nods. “And you’ll write me a glowing reference. Deal?”

“...Deal.” Y/N smiles, nodding. She’s glad to see Valentina like this - bending to her every whim for once. 

But as she turns to leave, Valentina can’t help but stab the knife in her back… and twist it for good measure. “And this way, you have time to say goodbye to everyone. Especially Bucky.”

Y/N sighs, not even turning to face her, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing her pain. Even though she can already feel herself about to crumble.

“Eat shit, Valentina.”

Meanwhile, Bucky is in the gym, completely unaware of everything going on. He unleashes a flurry of kicks and punches on the punching bag, sending it flying. He’s focused, absorbed in his own world. That is, however, until he takes a break for some water and finds Yelena standing right behind him.

“Jesus. You always sneak up on people like that?”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Fair.” he chuckles, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Okay, spill.” Yelena orders.

“I’d rather not,” Bucky responds with a teasing grin, sipping his water. 

“Ha ha.” she says flatly. “I meant about you and Y/N.”

“What about us?”

“Oh, come on, Bucky. You’re really not subtle. It’s obvious, really.” When he ignores her, she rolls her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Did Mel tell you Y/N’s quitting?”

That gets his attention. Bucky jolts, sending his water flying everywhere. “Fuck-wait, w-what did you just say?”

“You heard me. Mel told me earlier. Y/N went to Valentina and said she quit.”

“If I swear, you’re lying to me, Yel-”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?” Yelena raises a brow. 

“But why would-”

“Maybe it’s because she’s madly in love with you, but you’ve been letting Valentina mess with your relationship and treat the two of you like a doormat?” Bucky doesn’t respond, bolting out of the room in search of Y/N. He feels his entire world collapsing beneath him. His chest constricts, and he blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of it all, or fight back the tears.

He finds Y/N in her office, meticulously packing her things away. “You’re leaving?” He asks, his mind still reeling.

“Yes. I am,” she responds, not even looking at him. “My last night is the gala on Friday.”

“But why?” he asks, stepping closer. “I thought things were good between us, that we were happy.”

“You were.” She answers with a biting remark. She still hasn’t looked at him, even though she's breaking his heart. Pain and anger build within Bucky, the mixture swirling in his gut.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you seen this?” she pushes the magazine over to him. Bucky scans the page, his eyes narrowing when he realises what it says.

“Oh my- what the fuck is wrong with her?”

“Yup. God forbid she’s not the one controlling the narrative.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes. She still hasn’t looked at him.

“...So you’re leaving because of that? A gossip article?”

“No, Bucky, I’m not leaving just because of that. That,” she spits out, her voice laced with resentment. “Is just the tip of a fucking iceberg.” Bucky’s brow furrows. He’s still hurt - hurt that she’s leaving, hurt that he had to find out from Yelena of all people, hurt that his strong, beautiful girlfriend would be so upset by a fucking gossip tabloid. But most of all, hurt that she still won’t fucking look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve told you multiple times how unhappy I was with all of this.” she retorts.

“I meant that you’re leaving!” he bites back. “You know, not even telling me, or even thinking about how I feel is pretty selfish.” he snaps.

“I’M the one being selfish?!” she scoffs, finally looking at him. Her eyes blaze with a fury and pain he’s never seen before. “I’m selfish because I want to hold hands with you in public? Because I want to tell everyone you’re my boyfriend, regardless of what Valentina says?” she scoffs. “Because I’m fucking tired of people, of you,” she spits, her voice breaking. “Letting Valentina control us?” And finally, Bucky understands. And it breaks his damn heart.

“Y/N, I…” he murmurs. He doesn’t even know what to say.

“I love you, Bucky, and it feels like you never want to show it. Like you love the secret part of our relationship more than you love me.”

“That’s not true, you know it’s not.” He insists, his own voice breaking. He steps closer, reaching out for her.

“Don’t I? Then why won’t you tell me in public? O-Or stand up to Valentina?”

“...It’s not that easy, she’s my boss, and-”

“That’s what I thought.” she sniffles, picking up her box of things and walking to the door.

Bucky wants to stop her. To pull her into his arms and kiss her. To tell her he’s sorry, that he’s being an asshole. Because of course, he loves her. Of course he wants to show her off to the world.

But he just… can’t. 

So, he just lets her go.

Later, Bucky sits alone at the table, his head in his hands as the weight of everything presses down on him. The other New Avengers watch him, not wanting to say anything, or unsure of what to say.

“Stop looking at me like I’m fragile.” he grunts, breaking the silence. “You all know about Y/N and me, and that she quit.”

“And she dumped you.” Ava chimes in. “Because you were being an ass.”

“Thanks.” Bucky huffs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was though, you’re right.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Yelena asks. 

“...I just don’t know,” he lets out a resigned sigh. “I love her so much. She’s my whole damn world, and I’ve really screwed up. I’ll see her at the gala on Friday, but god knows if she’ll even want to see me.” But then, he has an idea. “Guys… I need your help.”

That Friday, the gala is in full swing. The room, decorated with expensive chandeliers and opulent floral arrangements, is full of laughter, chatter and music. Y/N stands alone in the corner, sipping ‌her drink. This whole situation with Bucky has really brought to her attention how alone she feels in these places, always on the outside looking in.

Y/N’s eyes drift to the other side of the room, locking eyes with Bucky. Her breath hitches in her throat. He looks so good, dressed to the nines in a sharp, fitted suit, exuding charm and sophistication. And god, she misses him so fucking badly.

He makes his way over to her, giving her a soft smile. “Hi.” Somehow, he looks even better up close. He even smells sophisticated.

“Hey Bucky.”

“You look…” he chuckles softly, breathless. “Fucking incredible.” A faint smile graces her lips, and she even gives him a little twirl.

“Thanks. You look great too.” 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry for what happened. I messed up, and you’re right-”

“Well, hello you two.” Valentina says, and Bucky huffs. Valentina walks up to them both, her smile as cold as ice. “Almost time for your speech, Bucky.” she smiles.

“You’re doing a speech?” Y/N’s brow furrows. “Nobody told me-”

“He sure is.” Valentina cuts in, placing a hand on his arm and giving Y/N a look that seems to say ‘I win.’ “And he better go.” Bucky gives Y/N one last look, then walks off. Y/N’s heart sinks.

“Glad to see you came.” Valentina smiles. “Although I’m not sure why you’re surprised nobody told you about Bucky’s speech. You did quit last minute.”

“I said I would come.” Y/N retorts, refusing to take the bait Valentina’s dangling in front of her. If she confronts her here, Valentina can easily twist the narrative against her, and she refuses to let her have any hold over her anymore.

“Sure you don’t want to come back? You planned an excellent party, I must admit. Didn’t realise you had it in you.” She’s a master at that. Of making compliments feel like poison.

“I’m sure.” Valentina opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Bucky clears his throat, and his voice fills the air. 

“Good evening, all. Thank you for coming.” His eyes scan the room again, landing on Y/N and Valentina. “This night wouldn’t be possible without the incredible woman who organised it all,” Valentina’s smile grows, and Y/N rolls her eyes. “My girlfriend, Y/N.” The room goes silent, save for Valentina sputtering on her wine.

“What?!” she demands.

“What?” Y/N gasps.

“You may have seen an article in a magazine a few days ago about my dating life, one Y/N and I were never consulted about. But Valentina was.” His eyes narrow. “And I’ve decided that I’m tired of letting this woman control my life, and coming between Y/N and I.”

The entire room turns to look at them both. Valentina goes bright red, stammering as she tries to form a coherent sentence. Y/N can’t say anything, still in shock. She considers pinching herself to see if she’s dreaming, but can’t even muster the strength to do that, either. “Y/N.” Bucky sighs. “I’m so, so sorry I let Valentina come between us, and didn’t tell the entire world that I love you, like you deserve. So…” he smiles. “I love you, Y/N. So, so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want to show you off to the world and do everything with you, too. In public, because I want everyone to know how happy I am. And it’s all because of you. I’ve been such an asshole, and you deserve so much better. And again, I’m so, so sorry. I totally understand if you never want to see me again, or take me back. But will you please consider giving me another chance?”

In response, Y/N walks over to him, pulling him into a kiss. The room descends into chaos, and she registers cameras flashing around them, but she and Bucky don’t care. “Of course I will.” she whispers, pecking his lips. “...I didn’t expect this public, though.” She giggles softly. Bucky smiles. 

“It’s the least you deserve.”

“God, I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He kisses her again, and the press go wild. “Now, come on.” He takes her hand, interlocking their fingers. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

The hotel room is meticulously and ornately decorated. Even though it’s small, it’s cosy, with all the essentials they need. It’s perfect for their overnight stay, but there’s one problem. Despite all its fancy decor, the room has only one double bed.

“I’ll take the couch. I’m sure it’s comfortable.” Y/N says, immediately. Bucky shakes his head.

“Absolutely not,” he declares, his voice firm. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Bucky, this mess is on me,” Y/N insists. “I deserve the couch.” 

Working as Congressman Bucky Barnes’ personal assistant, Y/N gets to spend her days travelling the country alongside a literal superhero. And now, their professional relationship has developed, making him one of her closest friends… and the love of her life. However, she has no intention whatsoever of ever telling him. She’s more than happy being his friend and nothing more. And besides, she’s not even sure he likes her in that way anyway, especially since they’re from two different worlds.

After all, he practically admitted it himself when the press published an article all about her, digging through her background and trying to talk to the neighbours in her apartment block.

“Damn press.” He ‌huffed, massaging his temples and running his hands through his brunette hair, pushing it back and tucking it behind his ears like he does when he’s stressed. Of course, after working with Bucky for so long, Y/N was already well aware of his habits. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with this, or with them. If you hear or see anything, you come to me, understand?”

“That's just what comes with the job.” She shrugged. Honestly though, the sheer volume of attention directed at her for the very first time was genuinely terrifying. “This morning, I saw them waiting for me outside my neighbourhood coffee shop.” She murmured.

Bucky sat up straight then, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. “They…what?” he hissed. Y/N had never seen him so angry… yet so calm at the same time. For a split second, she wondered if this tranquil fury is what he was like as The Winter Soldier, or when he was battling space monsters. “Get me the phone.”

“Bucky, I’m-”

“Y/N. Phone.” She handed it to him without another word. Before she could hear the call, another emergency ushered her out of the room. But she had an idea of what was said based on Bucky’s raised voice coming from his office.

Bucky surprised her with a new apartment in a quieter area of the city the very next day. Well… he didn’t technically pay for it himself. He just increased her pay so she could purchase it. And he didn’t say a single thing about it, or what it was for.

“You’ve been working hard. Here’s a raise.” he told her, handing over the cheque.

“I haven’t been working here that long; I thought I didn’t-”

“Y/N.” His voice was firm, cutting her off. “I insist.”

“I can’t take this,” she said, attempting to hand it back.

“You can, and you will.” he ordered, passing it back over. 

“Surely this is better suited for-”

“I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than my best employee. You know,” he began, sipping his coffee. “Not to change the subject, but the apartment building opposite mine has just had a place go up for sale. Two bedrooms, big bathroom and kitchen…it’s a quieter area of the city, near a park. It's like a gated community, really. Lots of famous people live there, so it's very private. ...No unwanted paps or journalists.”

She understood what he meant then, and felt her cheeks burning as she stumbled over her words, thanking him profusely for his generosity, but Bucky simply smiled. “Don’t worry about the press; I’ve got it covered. But for now…” he sighed. “Maybe it’s best if you stay away from me, and that we’re not photographed together, until things die down.”

“Oh.” she nodded. “Of course.” He’s right, she knows he is. But she can’t help but feel a small pang of hurt at how his thoughts immediately went to them keeping apart from each other. Despite being closer to Bucky than ever before, she can’t even walk down the street with him anymore.

But just as she turned to leave, she swears she caught a look of disappointment on Bucky's face.

That’s the problem with Bucky Barnes. He’s undeniably handsome, of course, but there’s always… something with him. Even though he seems to want to keep their friendship strictly professional and platonic, the way he looks at her always seems to say the opposite. His gaze always lingers on her for just a moment too long, and despite his demanding work, he always makes time to bring her both lunch and dinner, even if he only has seconds between meetings. 

"I'm too busy right now to eat," she said one night, hunched over her laptop. "I have to prepare for-"

“No,” he replied instantly, cutting her off. “Now. You need to eat," he whispered, his voice gentle as he pushed the food towards her. Her favourite, of course. “I can’t have my best girl out of action.” He always does that. Calls her his favourite, insists that he can’t live without her. Nobody else is told that.

An ex-employee even scornfully called her out for being his favourite once. “It’s just because he thinks you’re pretty. You’re shit at your job, and he’ll see that I’m way more capable than you soon enough.” And he got right in her face, demanding to know if there was something more between them, sneering and mocking her.

In an instant, Bucky was between them, shoving him back, away from her, and protectively shielding her with his body. He was trying to remain professional, but Y/N could sense his simmering rage. “Back. Off.” Bucky hissed. “If you touch her again-”

“So what if I do?” the man sneered. 

“I’ll fucking break your hand. That’s what.” Bucky responded, dragging the man to his office.

Y/N heard little of the dressing-down Bucky inflicted on him, but from the snippets she heard, Bucky was furious. The employee also didn’t last til the end of the day. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked her afterwards, his voice full of concern, and she nodded. 

“Y-Yeah, it’s nothing.” 

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.”

“Bucky, he’s just jealous.”

“He’s an asshole.” he grunted, and she laughed, making his angry expression soften into a smile. “And he’s completely wrong. There’s nothing between us, we’re just friends.” Her smile faltered momentarily in disappointment, but she nodded.

“Y-Yeah…” Bucky’s eyebrow raised as he noticed her disappointment, but Y/N hastily claimed she needed to check her emails, turning away from him and hurrying back to her office.

And she’s lost count of the nights they’ve spent together, reviewing meeting notes, or just talking about anything and everything for hours. One night, she fell asleep in her office, hunched over some notes, and awoke to find a warm blanket carefully draped over her. He never admitted to it, of course, but Bucky was the only other person there that night. And when he calls her in the middle of the night, shaken by another nightmare, Y/N is there to listen and calm him down until he feels safe. Because that’s the relationship they have. They’re each other's chosen family, a bond full of unwavering support and unconditional love. 

But considering everything else going on between them, is it really her fault for thinking there may be something more there? 

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't how you wanted tonight to go." Y/N murmurs.

Tonight, they’re staying over before a conference, something they’ve done countless times before. However, with Y/N's extremely busy schedule leading up to the conference, she had to book the hotel at the last minute. This hotel was the only one within their price range… and it turns out the only available room they have is a double room. When they first found out there was only one bed, Y/N was mortified, and wanted the ground to swallow her whole. 

“Sharing a room with you is not a punishment, Y/N.” Bucky whispers, and her heart skips a beat. She opens her mouth again, and he shakes his head, stopping her. “No buts. And no more apologies from now on, okay?”

“Well, I still can’t let you sleep on the couch when you have an important speech tomorrow.” She points out, and Bucky shrugs indifferently.

“I’ve slept on plenty of couches in my 110 years. It’s fine.” he insists, and Y/N sighs. Soon after they started working together, Bucky revealed his traumatic past to her. And it ignited in her a fierce desire to protect him from that happening to him ever again.

“Absolutely not.” She says, firmly. “I’m not letting you do it.”

“And I’m not letting you, either.” Bucky chuckles.

“So I suppose the only choice left is…”

"...We'll have to share." Bucky finishes for her. “You're sure it’s alright? I just want you to be comfortable.” His concern for her makes her heartbeat increase, and her knees go weak. 

Or perhaps it’s the intoxicating thrill of sharing a bed with the man she’s had a crush on for years, her dreams of what it would be like to wake up next to him finally a tangible reality.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She nods, trying to play it cool even though her heart is beating against her chest so hard she fears it could break through her ribs. To her surprise, Bucky seems much calmer than she is, only deepening her confusion.

Does he really still not see anything between them?

Later that night, as they both finish getting ready for bed, Bucky piles up the pillows in the middle of the bed, creating a soft barrier to separate them both. “Promise you’re alright?” he asks, his voice soft as they both get comfortable. “You want the fan on, or anything?”

“Bucky, it’s fine, honestly.” She smiles. He rolls over onto his side, his intense, icy blue eyes settling on her. He sighs.

“I’ll apologise in advance…in case I have nightmares again. I feel bad enough waking you up with a call, but I’d feel even worse if I woke you up when you’re right beside me.”

“You never have to apologise to me for that.” She smiles softly. “I told you I’m always here for you.”

“You’re too good to me.” he whispers. 

“It’s my job.”

“No, it’s not. You do so much for me, and I don’t deserve you or your kindness.” He smiles over at her like she hung the moon, and as if she’s the most important thing in the world. And Y/N feels a warmth bloom in her chest, spreading throughout her body. 

“Of course you do. You’re a great man, Bucky.” She insists. “And you’re going to keep saving the world.”

“Y/N, I….” he murmurs, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear him. Her heart starts to pound again. Could this be it? Is he going to admit his feelings?

“Yeah?” Bucky’s gaze flickers down, towards her lips, subtly biting his own lip. But then he clears his throat.

“...N-Nothing. Just…thanks.” He gives her a small smile. “It means a lot.”

“Oh…you’re welcome.” Y/N nods with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, pushing down her disappointment. “Goodnight, Bucky.” She says, turning away from him and snuggling under the covers. How much longer can she keep living like this? Wondering if he feels the same for her before she crumbles and just asks him how he feels? …or before she leaves for good?

Bucky keeps a watchful, protective eye over her until she falls asleep. Once he’s sure she’s asleep, he gently adjusts the cover over her, tucking her in and fluffing her pillow. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers softly. “Sorry I’m such an idiot.”

The next morning, sunlight streams through the window and a crack in the curtain, illuminating both the room and Y/N and Bucky in a warm glow. In the night, the pillows set up between them collapsed, so they lay together, their bodies intertwined, and each one holding the other close. Y/N’s head rests on Bucky’s chest, her lips softly parted. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm in her ears, the comforting sound keeping her relaxed. Her eyes flutter open, and she gazes over at Bucky. 

Bucky is still fast asleep. He looks so handsome, serene and at peace. His hair falls in soft curls, and she swears there’s a smile on his lips. She’s so close that she can see all the freckles and body marks dotting his skin, and for a moment, she links them together, creating a constellation. But then, Y/N suddenly realises where she is. Her eyes widen in shock, and her heart stops.

“Oh, fuck.” she whispers. Hearing her whisper, Bucky’s own eyes open, his gaze falling onto her.

“Oh…” he murmurs. “Well.” he chuckles, the sound husky and warm. “Good morning to you, too.” Her heart hammers against her ribs so rapidly that it feels it might break free from her chest, and the comforting warmth of Bucky’s skin turns ice cold. She looks at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, else. “So…you want some breakfast?” 

Out of all the things she thought he would’ve said, that wasn’t one of them. 

“What?!” she scoffs, still in shock, still wondering if he’s joking.

“Well, we need to get ready for the conference, so-”

“Are you serious?! I just woke up in your arms and you’re asking me if I’m hungry?” She demands incredulously, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. Bucky’s brow furrows, blinking in confusion. 

“But-”

“You know what?” she huffs, deciding not to fight this battle right here, right now. “Yeah, I will have some breakfast.” She snaps, pulling herself free from Bucky's grasp, snatching her things and retreating into the bathroom, the door slamming behind her.

Unsurprisingly, breakfast and the conference are just as awkward and tense as the morning, with Y/N and Bucky not saying anything to each other aside from the occasional comment regarding the conference. Behind Y/N's polite facade for the cameras and attendees, her stomach churns, frustration pulsing through her veins.

Bucky walks up to her. “We need to talk.”

“I think you made your thoughts very clear, Congressman.” she responds. 

“Y/N-” Bucky huffs, stopping only so the two of them can plaster on a polite smile for a passing photographer. “Please,” he pleads, his eyes wide with desperation. “I need to talk to you.” Her eyes meet his, and she sees the weariness and hope within, prompting a soft sigh to escape her lips. Those damn blue eyes.

“Okay, fine.” she nods. “I think there’s a quiet room somewhere.” Bucky follows her into the room, closing the door behind him. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. “You’ve been acting weird all day.” she scoffs.

“You’re serious? You really don’t know?” Bucky shakes his head, and she rolls her eyes. “You constantly tell me I’m your favourite, saying you can’t live without me, and you keep fucking staring at me during meetings, dinners, and events. And you’re looking at me like I mean something to you, and that you want me, too, but you keep calling it platonic and looking away every time I look back. Which is fine, cause I know you’re a Congressman, and I don’t want to overstep,” she’s rambling now, her voice cracking as everything comes to the surface. She hates it, wanting to show him how angry she is, how he can’t keep playing with her emotions like this. But she can already feel tears stinging at her waterline. “But you keep doing it! So I think, oh, maybe it does mean something, and he just doesn’t want to tell me. Which again, is fine.” she insists.

Bucky hasn’t said anything yet. He’s just staring at her, only intensifying her anger. “T-Then you wake up with me in your arms, and pretend like it's just another morning. You didn’t say anything, just asked if I wanted breakfast! Stop sending me mixed signals, it’s fucking annoying! Are you falling for me, or not?” she asks.

Bucky laughs, smirking. “Am I falling for you?” he repeats. “What do you think?”

“Oh my god, Bucky, can you just say yes or no?!” she demands. “I’ve already spent months asking myself this, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Months?” he raises a brow, the grin never leaving his lips. “I never knew you spent so long wanting me.” 

And with that, Y/N is done with this conversation. “God, just forget it.” she murmurs. However, as she begins to walk away, Bucky softly grabs her wrist, pulling her back slightly. Electricity tingles up her arm, spreading goosebumps all over her skin.

“Uh uh.” he shakes his head, his voice deeper. “I wasn’t finished talking.” Y/N nods, immediately feeling her heart drop to her stomach as a wave of dread floods over her. Oh god, she’s about to be so fucking fired.

“Sorry-”

“Doll.” Bucky leans in closer. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, incredulous.

“Quiet.” he whispers, the deep rhythm of his voice reverberating throughout her body. “I’m trying to answer your question, but I can’t do it if you keep running that gorgeous mouth of yours.” Her eyes widen in surprise, and her mouth becomes so dry she can't say another word. Bucky smiles. “Good girl, there we go.”

God, he’s going to be the death of her.

“As I was saying,” Bucky continues. “I’m not ‘falling’ for you.” Seeing her expression falter, he chuckles softly, running one of his human fingers down her jawline before stopping at her chin and gently lifting her face up towards him. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, pierces through her, causing her legs to tremble. Thank god Bucky is basically holding her up. “Because I’ve already fallen for you. Hook, line and fucking sinker. Ever since you came to work for me, that very first day.” 

“But I thought you wanted to keep things professional? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Of course I don’t. I want you, Y/N, and nobody else. God, that first day…” He laughs again, shaking his head. “You were talking to someone, I don’t remember who, or what you were talking about. But you had this smile on your face, so radiant and wide. I can’t even describe how beautiful you looked. And I was having a shitty day, but I just… felt compelled to look up, and then, I saw that smile. And I felt so much better. Y/N, you make me a better person, just by being around me.”

“Bucky, you’re already a good person. You don’t need me.”

“I do, though.” he murmurs. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. And god, I love you so damn much. I can’t do this without you.” He runs his free hand through his hair, sighing. “But I’ve got my own issues, and then there’s the whole Congressman thing, and the press and paparazzi are fucking nightmares. I’m a total idiot, you’re right. I shouldn’t have been stringing you along like that, and I regret it so much. But I just… kept quiet, and held back. Because I didn’t want to drag you into this, or assume you might like me back. I’m so sorry, I’ve been acting like an ass, and I completely understand if you don’t want to deal with it. If you want to quit, I’ll write you a glowing reference-”

Now it’s Y/N's turn to interrupt him. Stepping closer, she places her hands on Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him in. “...I want to stay. I want every moment I can get with you, Bucky.”

Bucky’s breath shudders. It’s almost funny, seeing the confident Congressman and superhero so flustered, especially around her. He leans in closer, their faces inches apart and his breath hot on her skin. A moment of silence hangs in the air. Bucky parts his lips, as if to ask if they’re really doing this, really crossing that line.

Because once they do this, there’s truly no going back.

But Y/N doesn’t let him ask it. She closes the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a silent, urgent kiss. Bucky pulls away a moment later. “Oh…sorry.” she murmurs. “I wasn’t thinking, I just, I wanted-”

“I want it too.” Is all Bucky says.

And then he stops holding back.

He returns his lips to hers, their kiss now filled with a deeper hunger and ‌more intense passion. Pushing her against the wall, his hands descend to her waist, intensifying the kiss. Her fingers tangle in his hair, a silent plea for more. Every second feels like a minute, every minute like an hour. All thoughts of the conference fade into nothing. It’s just the two of them… because they’re the only ones who matter. 

But soon, they have to break apart… albeit just to catch their breaths again. Their hearts pound against their ribs, and Bucky chuckles breathlessly, adjusting his tie and shirt. 

“W-Wow…” Y/N gasps.

“I know.” he grins. “Still have any doubt?”

The first shower of rain begins to fall, the droplets clinging to Charlie's hair as the scent coats the surrounding air. Charlie hates the rain. It reminds her of being a kid, alone at home, her only entertainment watching the droplets race each other down her bedroom window pane. And of being on the run, huddled and shivering under her jacket as she tried to sleep in her car, the rain battering against the roof, wondering if she’ll even make it to tomorrow.

But throughout all those memories, one constant thread links them all.

The fact that Charlie Cale is alone. 

She’s always been alone, and now she’s about to be alone again.

It’s what she deserves. It’s what she’s always deserved.

She just wishes it didn’t hurt so much.

“Charlie!” Luca calls, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he jogs up to her. A knot tightens in her stomach.

Like all their other secret meetings, he’s right on time as always. So perfect, so excited to see her. But this time, she can’t even bring herself to look at him.

“I’m so glad to see you.” Luca says, and she can already picture the smile on his face. Charlie has to bite down so hard on her lips that she tastes blood to stop a whimper from escaping. “So, I’ve got good news. Great, actually. We’re closing in on Alex, so soon you can come back, and maybe we-“

“I don’t want to see you anymore.” She says, cutting him off.

“W-What?” Luca frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Luca, please, just go. You should never have come here.”

“What the hell? Charlie, we organised this! I came here because I’m helping you-”

“Nobody asked you to, Luca!” she snaps, spinning on her heel to face him. Luca recoils, stumbling backward as if someone has slapped him. Seeing his devastation, and knowing she’s responsible for it, causes a sharp pang to build from deep within her chest, but she can’t stop. “I’ve always managed on my own, with or without you. And honestly? What makes you think, a-after everything I’ve been through, and you trying to hunt me down, that I’d stay with you?”

“Oh so it’s my fault? You knew how terrible I felt about it, Charlie, but I had no choice! And it was just for show amongst my colleagues anyway, you know that-”

“I don’t care. I’m going to be on my own from now on.”

Luca’s face crumples, and Charlie swears she can see tears filling his eyes. “…That wasn’t what you said the last time I saw you.” He murmurs, his voice cold. 

The memory flashes through Charlie’s mind, burning. Their lips, chapped and furiously coming together as their kiss intensified, their breaths coming in gasps as Luca’s hands tangled in her hair, his tongue making its way down her throat. He tasted of coffee and mint, his body warm and solid, like a rock stopping her from being pulled under. 

If only they knew the true ferocity of the impending storm.

“So what? We kissed, and that was it. It meant nothing to me.” Charlie replies, her voice sharp.

"Bullshit" a voice in her mind says.

“Bullshit.” Luca echoes without even knowing it. “Charlie, what is going on with you?” He reaches out, hand poised to take hers. Charlie desperately wishes she could take his hand and run off with him, to forget all the shitty things in the world. Just the two of them, happy. “I love you.” Luca whispers, his voice full of warmth, of safety. “You know I do.”

He does. He really does.

For a split second, her hand moves the slightest fraction toward Luca’s. Because she loves him too. She never stopped. And that's why she's doing this to him.

Charlie steps back, her chest tightening. Luca’s hand drops limply at his side. “But I don’t love you.” She shakes her head, biting her tongue even harder to stop herself from crying. “It’s over. I-I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Luca lets out a choked noise, something in-between a sob and a whimper. And it destroys her. Searching through her pockets, Charlie pulls out a silver device, handing it over to Luca. “You deserve this back. I don’t want it anymore.” Luca raises a brow.

It’s the panic alarm he gave her the first time he saw her after Alex escaped. Or well… the one he insisted she have, despite her original refusal to take it.

“Nope.” Luca shakes his head, passing the panic alarm over once again, only to have Charlie attempt to shove it back into his hands. “You need this.”

“Says who?” Charlie retorts. "I'm more than capable of surviving on my own."

“Because a fucking serial killer is after you?” Luca sighs, wearily massaging his temple. “Charlie, why is it so hard for you to accept that people want to help you? That I want to help you?”

“I’ve managed pretty well on my own so far.” Charlie points out. Judging by the look Luca gives her in response, he doesn’t feel the same way.

“Look…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Please? It’ll make me feel better knowing you have this. You just have to push the button, and I’ll… we’ll be on our way to you.” He corrects himself quickly with a cough, but the slip-up doesn’t go unnoticed by Charlie.

“Mhm….” She nods. “You can beg and plead all you want, Luca, I’m not taking that.” Even if the thought of Luca being the one to come to her rescue does sound very appealing.

Luca huffs, clearly frustrated now. “For god’s sake… why? Why would anyone not want to know they’re safe?! That there’s people looking out for them?! What’s the alternative, Charlie?! Dying?!” When Charlie avoids his gaze, his face pales. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare say you’d rather be dead-”

“No!” Charlie insists, shaking her head. “It’s not that, I don’t think. M-Maybe. I’m just…tired. Of running, of fighting, of getting others put in danger because of me…like you.” She admits, her voice quieter. “I’ve always been alone, Luca.”

“Now you don’t have to be.”

“I’ve been thinking, maybe if I just turned myself over to Alex, this could be over, that nobody else has to get hurt-”

“No.” Luca interrupts her immediately. “Absolutely not.” When she opens her mouth again, he steps closer to her. “You know what I love about you, Charlie? How you always see the good in people. You’ve witnessed so much death and evil… and yet instead of letting it corrupt you, you’ve been protecting others, giving them justice.” He sighs. “Charlie, you’re the bravest person I know, and the thought of getting that call, that you’re-” He chokes, his voice cracking. “...Dead, scares the shit out of me.”

“Holy shit, Luca, are you cryin’?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He chuckles, wiping his eyes. “The thought of something happening to you, and me not being able to save you… it scares me to death.” He sniffles.

“Luca…”

“Please Charlie. Just take it. I couldn’t bear it being my fault.”

“Okay, fine.” She chuckles awkwardly, trying to ignore the fact her heart seems to be doing somersaults at the fact Luca wants to protect her so much. “Just cause you asked so nicely.”

“No. You keep it.” He shakes his head, passing it over.

“No, I don’t want you knowing where I am-” she says, firmly.

“Charlie.” He snaps, stunning Charlie into silence. She’s never heard him so angry, so hurt before. “Please. Even if it has to end now… I’d rather you keep it.” She opens her mouth to reply, but he cuts her off again. “It doesn’t even have to be me coming to help you if you’re in trouble. It’s just so I know you’re safe.” Charlie sniffles, nodding as she takes it back. He’s too good for this world. 

Or at least… too good to be loved by Charlie Cale.

“Well.” Luca mumbles, wiping his eyes. “If you’re positive you don’t want to come with me…”

“I don’t.” She says, harsher than intended, which seems odd to think, considering she’s been trying to hurt him and push him away this entire time. Luca nods. He can’t bear to look at her anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye then.” He nods. He turns without speaking another word, not even offering her a goodbye. Yet he’s still for a moment, lingering as if waiting for her to follow.

She doesn’t.

With a sigh, Luca walks back to his car. As the sound of his engine fades into the distance and he disappears from view, Charlie Cale finally breaks down in sobs.

“You’re a better actress than I thought.” Alex smirks, emerging from her hiding spot.

“I'm not sure I should take that as a compliment, considering you lied to me throughout our friendship.” Charlie scoffs.

“Oh, come on, it’s not my fault you couldn’t tell I was lying. Maybe you’re just not as good a lie detector as lover boy thinks you are.” Alex’s head swivels towards the path Luca walked down. “He really sees the best in you, hm? And how do you repay his kindness? By breaking his heart so easily…" she tuts, only fanning the flames of Charlie's anger.

“You told me to, because you knew he was onto you.” Charlie hisses. “Because despite everything you say about him, Luca Clark is an great agent.” She insists, her voice breaking. "And he's...he's..." her voice fully goes then, and she sobs.

“He's gone forever." Alex finishes for her. "Because despite how much you love him, you still broke his heart.” she chuckles coldly.

“Because you threatened him! I had to get him off of our tail, or you’d kill him!”

"Actually, I haven't ruled that out yet." Alex chuckles.

“Don’t you fucking dare-” Charlie orders, closing the gap between them both. She stops only when the chilling metal of a gun is pressed against her temple. 

“But boo hoo, now you can’t be together. You’re practically Romeo and Juliet.” Alex chuckles. “And your story will end the same way as theirs… unless you do as I say.” She cocks the trigger, and Charlie’s body shivers. “Now, it’s just me and you. Come on. Walk.”

Hundreds of miles away, Luca sits in his car by the highway, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon. The rain stopped a long time ago, yet he still feels completely numb. The thought that Charlie, the love of his life, doesn’t want him anymore fucking stings. He can't shake the image of her face, or her words repeating in his mind:

"I don't want you anymore." 

“Shut up…” he hisses, desperately pleading for his brain to be quiet. “Stop it.” 

But the more the scene replays in his mind… Luca suddenly registers something. A subtle change in Charlie’s expression. As if she doesn’t truly believe what she told him, and there’s something more to it. Like she’s hiding something. Perhaps it’s just that he doesn’t want to believe Charlie's words, but as he keeps mulling it over, the more a growing unease settles in.

And the more he recognises the fear in her face.

Luca’s blood runs cold. If Charlie’s in danger, he has to help her. With a roar of the engine, he peels back onto the highway.

To Be Continued

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Luca Clark is not doing well. Not that he’d admit it to anyone, though. Even though it's pretty obvious.

He hunches over his computer, his eyes narrowed at the screen's bright glare as he pores over camera footage, desperately searching for a trace of The Iguana. An opened can of Red Bull sits beside his…fourth? Or fifth? Coffee of the night. Honestly, Luca lost count a long time ago.

Luca groans, clicking through screen after screen on autopilot as he shoves potato chips in his mouth. The repetitive clicks of his mouse fade into white noise as he hunts for Alex in a sea of thousands.

Even with all his training, he was stupid enough ‌not to realise Alex was the Iguana. If he had, they wouldn’t be in this mess, with Charlie on the run and Beatrix Hasp dead.

“Why are you surprised?” A familiar whisper of doubt echoes in the back of his mind, even as he tries to ignore it. “Charlie’s the one who solves all the murders. Not you. She’s the whole reason you even got the promotion. She should be the one here, not you.”

Charlie.

The woman who keeps seeing the good in a world that constantly breaks her and spits her back out again. The woman who figured out his lie within seconds, who keeps putting herself in danger time and time again because she just wants to save people.

The one he let go. 

He got into deep shit with his colleagues afterwards, but he didn’t care. Because the mere thought of putting cuffs on Charlie himself, of condemning her to a life behind bars, makes his stomach churn to this day.

Now, though, he’s paying the price for it. Because all he can think about is Charlie Cale. She’s the first thing he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he closes his eyes at night. Not that he’s getting much sleep, that is. 

Blinking, Luca's eyes flicker to the glowing laptop screen, checking the time. When did it get to 3am? It wasn’t even 10 last time he looked. Suppressing a yawn, he rubs his tired eyes.

“Luca,” a soft whisper wakes him. Luca opens his eyes, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light. Groaning, he stretches, his body aching. These chairs were definitely not made for comfort. Did he fall asleep? How long has he been out for? “Mornin’, sleepyhead.” The voice greets cheerily with a chuckle.

“Charlie?” He murmurs. “Why does it sound like-”

“Took ya long enough.” Charlie laughs. Sure enough, when he looks up, Charlie is sitting on his desk, twirling one of her red curls around her finger.

“C-Charlie?!” Luca gasps, bolting upright with shock. "What the hell are you doing here?!" he demands. "If they see you-" Once again, as if on instinct, he immediately jumps in to try to protect her.

“Shhh, shhh…” she whispers, gently touching his wrists to steady him. “It’s okay.” She cups his cheek, smiling down at him.

“What the hell is going on? How did you get in here without being seen?!” Charlie laughs, throwing her head back in one of those loud laughs of hers that Luca loves so much.

“I’m flattered you think I actually snuck in here. I mean, I’m good, but not that good.” She pauses, grinning. “I guess you think I’m better at this whole thing than I do, don’t you?” Luca blinks at her, totally confused. Charlie raises a brow. “Man, you really don’t get it? And who’s the FBI agent among us?” She rolls her eyes playfully, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “I’m a hallucination, Luca. I’m not really here. You’re dreamin’.”

“Are you dead?!” He gasps, his blood running cold. If he failed again and got Charlie killed, he’d never forgive himself. He thought she was dead when she and Alex went over the cliff in the Barracuda. That he’d lost the one good thing in his life forever, the one person who saw him as Luca, not just as a federal agent. That he'd never get to tell her how he truly felt about her.

The wave of relief that came over him when he saw she was okay was immense. His adrenaline took over immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to safety. In a perfect world, he would have shielded her from further harm, prevented her arrest, confessed his true feelings, and they would have found their happily ever after.

But because life is so shitty and can’t let him have this one good thing, he had to let her go.

"I appreciate you not wanting to arrest the real me," Fake Charlie chimes in, grabbing a handful of Luca's chips. “And I'm definitely not a ghost, either. At least not the last time I checked.” For a moment, Luca breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that at least Charlie Cale is still breathing, albeit still missing. But then, he realises how insane this whole situation is.

He’s talking to a hallucination.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

“You’re not real.” He shakes his head, and Charlie…or ‘fake Charlie’ huffs.

“Yeah, I told you that at the beginning. I’m a manifestation of your exhaustion, and your feelings for me… or well, for the real me.” She explains. 

“What feelings?" Luca asks, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I don’t-”

“Bullshit. I might not be the real Charlie, but I’m part of your mind, Luca. I still know when you’re lying.” She grins mischievously. 

Dammit. Even in his dreams, Luca Clark can never get away from Charlie Cale.

Not that he’d ever want to, though.

"I'm glad you're not trying to get rid of me," Charlie grins, her voice cutting through the air. At the sight of Luca’s confusion, she rolls her eyes again. “Part of your mind, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He murmurs. He’ll have to get used to that. He’ll have to give her a name too. 'Dream Charlie' sounds too…strange. Besides, the real Charlie already is his dream girl, so that doesn’t work. And 'Fake Charlie' just keeps making him think of the real one. 

“Just call me Charlie Two.” she interrupts, and Luca nods. 

“Charlie Two it is. That’s easy enough. So why are you here, then?” He asks. “To spur me on to find you, or something?”

“To be honest, I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Guess it’s to tell you to take better care of yourself? The real Charlie must be the only one you’ll actually listen to.” She laughs.

And she is. She truly is. Charlie could tell him to jump, and Luca would just ask her how high.

Charlie Two's gaze looks over the desk, taking in the mess of empty Red Bull cans, coffee cups, and scattered snack wrappers littering the desk. “…speaking of, you look like shit.” She holds up an empty can of Red Bull, her brows furrowed in disapproval. “Geez, buddy, how many of these have you had?! Drink some water and get some sleep!”

“I’m trying to find you, well, the real you, and Alex.” Luca retorts.

“So it’s my fault? Gee, thanks.”

“No, it’s just…” he sighs, massaging his temples.

She cuts him off, shaking her head. “It doesn't matter. Just... take care of yourself, alright Luca?” She asks, her voice softer. “Real me cares about you too much to let anything bad happen to you.”

“Wait…” he gasps, his voice a mere whisper. “She actually… likes me back?”

“Well, I’m part of your mind, so I don’t know for sure….” Charlie trails off, smiling over at him softly. “But I think the real Charlie and I are connected ‌too, cause I can tell she’s thinking a lot about you, too.” She says. “And you know she’ll probably give you hell until you take care of yourself, like I am.”

Luca laughs then, for the first time in a long time. “You’re right. She would.” God, he misses her. “And I will.”

“Promise?”

“…Promise.”

“Good, cause you’re gonna be waking up soon, and I at least wanted to tell you that.”

“Where are you?” He asks, forgetting for a moment that she’s not real. “Like in real life. I’ll come get you.”

Charlie Two sighs. “You know I can’t tell you that, right?” Luca nods, disappointed, already feeling a dull ache in his chest. Charlie Two leans in, her lips brushing softly against his temple in a tender kiss. Even though she’s not real, Luca can feel the whisper of her touch against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His heart races, and he gasps.

“Take care of yourself, alright?” She repeats. “And…tell real me how you really feel next time you see her. It’ll mean a lot to her, knowing she has you in her corner.”

“I wish I could, but…”

“I know.” She murmurs, her voice tinged with sadness. “But god knows you could do with some happiness in your life. Both of you.” She leans in again, pressing another kiss to his temple. "Goodbye, Luca."

And when he next wakes up, Luca is alone again.

There’s a reason Travis ‘Teacake’ Meacham always takes the night shift. He tells those who ask that it’s helping him get back on his feet and adjust to life after prison. But the true reason is so people don’t find out what he really is - a vampire.

It happened back when he was in prison. One night, his cellmate, a recluse who, funnily enough, never seemed to eat much in the cafeteria and slept most of the day, suddenly cornered him in their cell. Even now, Travis has hazy memories of that night. All he can remember is waking up in the prison infirmary the following night, exhausted with two distinct bite marks on his neck.

It definitely took some time for him to get used to his new powers and thirst for blood. Unsurprisingly, prison isn’t the most supportive environment for a vampire. But now, his work affords him the luxury of sleeping all day, and he can use it as an excuse for any exhaustion people may notice. Not only that, he can feed on the deer and other wild animals in the woods surrounding the storage place, preventing the risk of him being found feasting on a human. 

For once in his life, Travis was doing well.

Until Y/N came to work at the storage place.

As Y/N does her nightly checks, Travis watches her through the cameras, completely mesmerised. She’s so beautiful. A deep yearning builds within his gut, a persistent feeling he can't shake. Since Y/N began working at the storage place, an insatiable hunger has consumed Travis, growing from deep in the pit of his stomach. He’s tried to satisfy it with his usual meal of animal blood, but it’s never been enough.

Still doing her rounds, Y/N turns, glancing up at the camera with a smile. The sight of her face immediately triggers another surge of hunger in Travis, so intense it nearly causes him to drop to his knees. He heard about this when he first became a vampire. Your mate. Someone you feel an intense pull to, with a desire to nurture them and consume their blood, no matter if you’re vegetarian. Someone tied to you by an unbreakable bond. At first, he thought it was a joke, that it was just some ancient love story that’s completely implausible in the real world.

But then Y/N came to work here, and Travis realised just how wrong he was. And how fucked he is. Because of course Travis’ mate is his coworker, the one person he doesn’t want to feast on. How could he possibly inflict pain on someone so beautiful? How could he scar her and drink from her like she’s nothing but a meal? He would destroy the entire world before he would allow any harm to come to her, even if it meant his own death.

And if he doesn't feed soon... his death might come sooner than expected.

“Are you alright?” Y/N asks. Travis swallows hard, his throat dry. When did she come back? Even with his advanced hearing, he never heard her come back in.

"Yeah..." he grunts, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the desk so tightly he could leave deep gouges in the surface.

“You sure? Cause you look like-” Her voice echoes through his mind, her scent filling his nostrils.

So sweet, so delicious, yet so forbidden...

And Travis is so fucking hungry.

“Y/N. Just go away.” he hisses. His pupils dilate, and he can feel his fangs sharpening.

“Excuse me?” She scoffs. “You don’t have to be such an asshole, I was just asking-”

“I said, leave!” He yells, turning around. Y/N’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat as she stumbles backwards, a wave of pure fear washing over her at the sight of his wild eyes and fangs. “Oh, shit.” He murmurs. Y/N lunges for the door, but in an instant, Travis runs in front of her, blocking her path. “Look, Y/N, just calm down.”

“Calm down?!” She sputters, her voice full of alarm. “You’re a fucking vampire, Teacake! How the fuck am I supposed to calm down right now?!”

“I’m sorry, okay! I didn't mean to scare you,” he pants, his voice a jumbled mess of hunger and desperation, "I'm just s-starving, and I think I’m starving for you, and-" Her heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he registers it slowly calming down. He then realises she’s staring at him, her eyebrows drawn together in a worried frown.

“Sorry, just trying to make sense of this. So you’re a vampire, and you’re hungry.” She repeats, and he nods. “And you’re hungry for…my blood? Why me in particular?” 

“Well…” he murmurs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. How the hell is he supposed to explain this? That some old story says they might be bound and mated together? That he has to feed on her, or else he’ll die of hunger?

“Answer the question, Teacake.” But she’s looking at him, waiting for an explanation, and she’s so beautiful.

No, she’s fucking ethereal.

And the more he looks at her, the more he realises Y/N seems…interested in this whole thing, rather than afraid.

“So there're these things called mates, someone who is bound to a vampire, and whose blood sustains them,” he explains. 

“And I’m yours?” she replies. 

“Well…maybe. I only feel this way when I’m around you, so I think so.” 

“...Oh. Okay.”.

“That’s it?” He frowns, brow raised. “I just told you I think I'm your mate and I have to feed on you, and you're okay with that? You’re not weirded out at all?” When she shakes her head, his brows furrow even more. “You’re taking this insanely well…like a lot better than I thought you would‌’ve.”

“I think I’m still dreaming.” She responds, and he chuckles. “But honestly, I kinda get it. The whole idea of us being mates.” Seeing the confusion on his face, she chuckles. “I like you, Teacake. A lot. Regardless of destiny, or whatever's keeping us together.” He takes her hand, and she gasps. “Jesus, your skin is like ice,” she giggles playfully.

“Comes with the whole vampire thing. And seriously? You just said some romantic shit about how you love me regardless of fate, and now you’re laughing at me?” he asks, but can’t stop himself from laughing either. He can’t ever be mad at her, he realises. 

“Sorry, sorry.” She smiles. “Are you still hungry?”

“Starving,” he blurts out, immediately realising how that sounds and shaking his head. “But don't worry, I won’t feed on you. You’ve just had a massive shock, and I’ve never fed on a human before, so I don’t wanna hurt you or go too deep-”

“Teacake.” She cuts him off. “I want you to feed on me.”

“Really?” he asks, voice full of disbelief.

“Yeah, you look exhausted, and guessing since I’m your mate, my blood can heal you?” He nods, and she bites down hard on her tongue. Soon, a small bead of blood blooms, growing bigger and bigger-

Before Travis can even form a reply, she pulls him closer, her lips meeting his and offering him a taste. Her blood is everything he dreamed it would be. He savours the sweet, warm flavour, feeling a surge of renewed energy that grows and grows the more he feasts. Oh god, he can’t get enough. He pulls her even closer, their bodies flush together as their lips return to each other in a deep, ravenous kiss as he continues to savour her taste. 

Y/N moans with delight, and he responds with a deep, warm chuckle, the two sinking deeper and deeper into each other before coming up for air. Travis grins, the sweet, metallic taste of her blood still clinging to his fangs as he wipes any remnants away with his tongue.

“Holy shit. That was…incredible.” Y/N breathes out. “And you licking my blood off your fangs is…insanely hot, actually.”

“I think you enjoyed that more than me.” he chuckles, his voice husky as he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. A faint trace of blood still sits on her lip, and he gently wipes it away with his thumb. “Thanks, sunshine.”

“Sunshine? Really? Can you even go out in the sun?” she asks, grinning. Her eyes twinkle as a thought pops into her head. “Does it make you sparkle?”

“No, I don’t sparkle! I’m not Edward fucking Cullen!” he scoffs, incredulous, as Y/N continues laughing. “Yeah, I can go out in the sun. It just hurts me after a while. It’s like a really bad sunburn, hence the night shift.” He explains. “But I know the sun revitalises things and helps them grow and keep warm, and your blood helps me keep going. And of course, you’re warmer than me now, so… you’re my personal sunshine, in a way.” He blushes, suddenly embarrassed about his cheesy explanation. Surprisingly, though, Y/N smiles.

“Awww, that’s adorable.” She beams. 

“Are you mocking me?”

“No! It’s cute!” She insists. “I’ll need to think of a nickname for you…my little bloodsucker.” 

“That’s fucking awful. Just keep calling me Teacake.” he groans.

“Work in progress.” She chuckles. “So, what now?”

“I think I’ll need to take you out on a date first, sunshine.” Travis smiles, pecking her forehead. “After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives together to plan.”

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“Jesus, Tony, this place is insane.” Rhodey gasps, his eyes widening at the sheer volume of fairy lights twinkling around the room, and at the servers walking around, their trays piled high with canapes whilst the gentle melody of the orchestra fills the air. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Tony chuckles, grabbing a glass off a tray. “No expense spared for our annual gala.” 

As the other Avengers circle the room, gazing at the gilded decor, Y/N lingers by the doorway, wondering why she ever came. She's felt uneasy for several nights, convinced that someone’s been following her and watching her when she’s not looking. Despite reassurances from the other Avengers that the tower is secure and she’s safe, she’s still terrified.

And the fact that this party is a masquerade ball isn’t helping, either. The thought of being surrounded by people in disguises when she’s already terrified someone is stalking her sounds more like her worst nightmare than a fun night out. But Natasha and the others coaxed her to the party, promising they’d keep her safe and that a good time was just what she needed.

Suddenly, the lights flicker once, then twice, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “Hey, it’s alright.” Steve chuckles lightly, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just the wiring in this building. “It seems electronics aren't Stark's forte.” 

“I heard that, Rogers.” Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s for the aesthetic.” He mutters before going back to his drink.

“Well, whatever it is, it feels like there’s a chill in here.” Y/N shudders.

“Have a drink, and you'll feel better.” Natasha insists, sipping from a glass of red wine that matches both her nails and her gown. The others agree, reassuring her once more that everything is fine. Y/N nods, turning and heading to the bar.

Just a couple of drinks and some snacks, then she’ll go.

Arriving at the bar, she orders her drink, frowning at the small glass the bartender slides back over to her. Clearly, Tony’s statement about not sparing any expense for tonight did not extend to the alcohol. Still, she thinks, beggars can't be choosers. So, she takes a few sips, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. Yet, she continues to sip, hoping it loosens her nerves… or at least warms her up a little. She turns, ready to head back to her friends…. And then stumbles into a figure, spilling the rest of her drink. Y/N lets out a groan. Just fucking brilliant.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going, and…”

”No, please. It was my fault.” The man responds. “And besides, there are worse things in life that could happen than having a beautiful woman bump into me.” He takes her hand in one of his leather gloves, pressing a tender kiss to it. Her heart pounds once more, and Y/N this time, it’s not from fear.

Whoever this man is, he’s charming as hell, and incredibly captivating. “Please, let me get you another.” He motions to her empty glass, gently pushing past her to go to the bar. As he laughs and jokes with the bartender, Y/N watches him.

Even though everyone here is wearing a masquerade mask, she’s met a lot of the guests here tonight before, usually in passing. But she definitely doesn’t recognise him. A black mask hides most of his face, exposing only his mouth, jawline, and eyes, while his brown hair is pulled back in a bun. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, except for the intricate silver embroidery on his cape. And oh god, the depth of his eyes. So blue, so beautiful. Like the ocean after a storm, sparkling and welcoming.

”Who are you?” She asks when he returns, passing her drink over. The man chuckles warmly.

“Isn’t the point of these masquerade balls that you don’t know who people are?”

“Well, I’d like to know.” She retorts, taking a sip from her glass. When the champagne hits her lips, she splutters a little. This definitely isn’t from the cheap bottle. 

The man quirks a brow, chuckling again. “Is something wrong? Not used to expensive things?” For a moment, she’s offended, believing he’s mocking her. Instead, he grins, tilting his head at her slightly, regarding her with a curious glint in his eye. “…That’s a shame.”

“You still haven’t told me your name.” She retorts, taking another sip and trying to look dignified whilst also trying desperately to ignore her growing feelings for this mysterious stranger.

“You know, most people thank those who buy them expensive drinks, rather than demanding to know their names.” He retorts with a smirk.

"I'm not being demanding!" she insists. “But…thank you.” She murmurs. “For the champagne, I mean.”

“You’re welcome, darling.” That makes her splutter again, and another chuckle leaves the stranger’s mouth. “But because you’ve been such an incredible company tonight, I’ll be kind and tell you my name. Call me James,” he orders with a warm smile.

James. Why is that so familiar? But before she can dwell too much on the thought, he finishes the rest of his champagne, wiping the remnants away with his finger.

And Y/N suddenly pictures his finger tracing the curve of her lips, then along her jawline, drawing her closer… and then-

"Will you dance with me?" He asks, thankfully cutting through her thoughts. 

“Hm?” He gestures towards the orchestra playing a light waltz, and the couples already twirling around the room. 

“You want me to dance with you?” she repeats, a hint of disbelief in her voice and her brow furrowing.

“Why not?” He asks, genuinely puzzled. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight. “I want to show you off,” and Y/N feels her throat go dry, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Whoever this man is, he’s smooth as hell. Her heart still racing, Y/N looks over at the couples swaying on the dance floor.

At first, she thinks it's a terrible idea, being seen so openly. But the more she thinks about it, the more she wants to do it. Because after so much time spent being afraid, why shouldn’t she dance with him? Why shouldn’t she have a night where she finds love and gets to be the main character in her own romance story?

So, she takes James’ leather-gloved hand, smiling as his fingers close over hers, and lets him lead her onto the dance floor. The crowd parts, and a hush falls as all eyes turn to them. Sensing her nerves, James gently cups her chin in his hand, guiding her face to meet his gaze. “Don’t focus on them, my love. Just stay with me.”

My love. Those two words sound so sweet, so… perfect coming from his mouth. He pulls her closer, into a passionate dance, leading her the whole time. It’s so incredible, she feels like she’s walking on air, like they’re the only two people in the room. He spins her under his arm and dips her effortlessly, making her gasp. In an instant, she’s back in his arms, being pulled closer towards him. He smirks, as if knowing the effect he has on her. He smells intoxicating…powerful…

Without a second thought, Y/N's lips meet his in a deep, passionate kiss. At first, he kisses her back, their lips meeting with a desperate hunger. But then, he pulls apart, chuckling at her disappointment. “Not here. I don’t want these other men to see you.” 

He pulls her off the dance floor, guiding her down a secluded hallway. As soon as they’re out of sight, he pushes her against the wall, returning his lips to her mouth and travelling down her chin and neck. “James.” She moans.

“Say it again.” He orders, his voice deep and slightly accented. As she does, a low groan escapes him, and his grin widens. “Fuck…you’re so gorgeous. These fuckers don’t deserve you. I’ll show you just how worthy you are.”

Something cold brushes against her skin, and for a moment, she thinks it’s his hand. But then, something sharp traces her jawline. When she opens her eyes, she feels the cold, sharp edge of a knife pressed against her throat.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” She gasps, her blood going cold. “Why do you have that?”

“Shhh…quiet.” He whispers, delicately cupping her cheek. “It’s okay, darling. I won’t hurt you. I love you too much for that. Honestly, I don't think you realise the hold you have on me.” he chuckles. Her eyes dart towards the door, back to the safety of the party, of the Avengers. If she just ran, she could be safe. Instead, James tightens his grip on her with just one hand. “Uh uh.” He tuts. “Why would you ever want to leave?”

“Who the hell are you?” she spits, struggling in his grasp.

“I told you, James," he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he tilts his head. “But your friends call me The Winter Soldier.” Y/N’s heart leaps into her throat. Even though she’s not an Avenger, she’s heard enough about The Winter Soldier and his reputation. How could she have been so stupid to let this happen? To be manipulated and drawn in by him?

With his free hand, he reaches up, untying his mask and letting it fall to the floor. Thin scars trace patterns across his face, and dark eyeliner accentuates his eyes. “I’ve always wanted a plaything. And I’ve been watching you for a while, Y/N.” He whispers, chuckling when he sees how terrified she looks. 

“That was you?” she asks, icy dread seeping into her as her heart continues to hammer against her ribs. 

“Of course it was,” he chuckles. “From the first time I saw you, I just knew I had to have you." He steps closer, his breath hot on her skin. "You’re so beautiful, and so smart, Y/N. And that’s why you’re wasted here, with these assholes. They don’t deserve you. But I do.” He leans in, kissing her hungrily, deeply, despite her attempts to push him away. “You’re mine. And I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“God, this shit is so boring.” Teacake groans, leaning back in his chair.

“Gee, thanks.” Y/N replies, stealing more chips from Teacake’s bag.

“No, not you, I meant-“ Suddenly, the roar of a motorcycle engine fills the air. Teacake rolls his eyes, muttering: “What the hell does this asshole want?”

Griffin bangs open the door, strolling in. His eyes land on Y/N and Teacake sitting together, and his eyes narrow. “The fuck is she doing here?” Griffin asks, an accusatory finger pointed right in her face. “I don’t pay you to hang out with my employees.”

“You pay your employees like shit, anyway.” Y/N retorts, earning a snort and a proud ‘Attagirl’ from Teacake.

“You know…” Griffin huffs, stepping closer and leering at her menacingly as he looks her up and down. “I have an idea for how you can get paid. Bet you’re gagging for it.” He smirks. The scent of alcohol and tobacco on his breath makes her stomach lurch, and for a split second, her bravery falters.

Griffin’s flirted with her before, but always backed off when she said no. Now though, he’s persistent, and that means he’s unpredictable.

In an instant, Teacake is between them. “Griffin, fuck off.”

“Who do you think you are? You work for me-“

“Back. Off.” Teacake spits.

“Griffin, just go. We told you-“ she’s cut off by Teacake gently placing his hand on the small of her back as he steps in front of her.

He stares Griffin down, his eyes burning and his body tensed with a rage she’s never seen from him before. She swears she can see fear in Griffin’s eyes as they dart towards the door, wondering whether or not to make a break for it.

She exhales a sigh of relief. Finally, it’s over.

But instead, Griffin laughs. “Oh…” he slurs. “I see how it is.” He says, focusing on Teacake’s protective stance. “The criminal. You know, I said they shouldn’t have hired you. Who knows how dangerous you are?” he raises one of his fat, disgustingly stained fingers, jabbing it into Teacake’s chest. “How about I keep Y/N safe, huh?”

In response, Teacake grabs his wrist, yanking it backwards. Griffin roars in pain, almost doubled over. “Motherfucker! I’ll fire you-“

“Touch my girl again…” Teacake warns, his voice low and his eyes narrowed. “And I will put you through that back wall. Understand?”

“She’s your girl?” Griffin spits incredulously. In response, Teacake pulls back even further, twisting Griffin’s arm back until a sickening crunch fills the air. Griffin screams even louder, and Y/N winces.

“Understand, you fuckin’ asshole?” Teacake hisses. Griffin nods, and Teacake releases his arm.

As Griffin scurries away, Teacake takes Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “You alright?”

“Holy shit.” She breathes out. “That was…insane. But aren’t you worried about getting fired?” In response, Teacake smirks. He pulls her closer, kissing her deeply and hungrily.

“You’re mine, Y/N.” He whispers once they pull apart. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dance floor is alive, the air full of laughter and music. Beaming proudly, Ted, Karen, Joyce and Hopper watch Nancy and Jonathan dance together, their arms wrapped around each other and their smiles radiant. Love and happiness radiate from every person in the room.

One guest, though, is an exception.

Y/N sits alone, clutching her glass as she watches the happy couple, a knot of unease tightening in her gut. She shouldn’t have come here. She knew that months ago, when the invitation came in the mail, encased in a crisp white envelope with her and Christopher’s names written across the top in calligraphy. The invitation, intricately detailed, requested her and Christopher’s presence at ‘such a special day’ and how Nancy and Jonathan were ‘hoping they could make it’.

Standing alone in her kitchen, the invitation gripped in her hand, Y/N could hear her mother’s voice in her head, asking her why her invitations weren’t so polished, and chastising her for her life choices yet again. Because by her parent’s standards, anything less than perfect is unacceptable. And to them, their daughter and her life choices are the furthest thing from perfection. Even though they were the ones who meticulously planned her entire wedding, ignoring everything she wanted. 

Especially who she wanted as her groom.

Christopher, the son of a lawyer, captain of the football team, and destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, was like gold dust to her parents. His family also being rich and belonging to the same exclusive country club as her father helped too, of course. And he was… nice enough, thankfully just as bored by all the rich people’s pleasantries as Y/N was. He bought her flowers and chocolates, held her hand, took her to prom, and did all the classic, soppy boyfriend stuff that has girls in rom-coms squealing with delight. 

But despite all of Christopher’s pros, there was just one problem.

A big problem.

He isn’t Steve Harrington.

Steve, much like Y/N, is a rich kid, the poster boy athlete of his parents. Steve and Y/N actually met at a party hosted by Y/N’s parents, the two of them desperate for escape from the mind-numbing, snobby conversations. From that moment on, the rest was history, and they gravitated towards each other at every party since then.

With each passing moment they shared, Y/N's love for him deepened. For the longest time, she didn’t think he felt the same. The reigning King of Hawkins High, Steve had girls falling at his feet and could go for anyone he wanted. And Y/N knew she would not be his first choice.

But one night, everything changed.

Fifteen years ago.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Y/N asks, giggling as she picks daisies from the grass beside her, gazing up at Steve from her position beside him. The lingering taste of the whisky they stole coats her lips and tongue, and she feels the warm, comforting haze of intoxication spreading through her. 

“Some country club bullshit, no doubt.” Steve chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he takes another swig. “Our dads are probably planning to play golf, and my dad’s busy talking about how much of a fuck-up I am.” 

“You’re not a fuck-up, Steve.” Y/N mumbles, propping herself up on her elbows. The fading summer light, mingled with the twinkling fairy lights overhead, bathes him in an angelic glow, and the warmth in Y/N’s gut intensifies.

God, he’s so beautiful. And the fact that he hates himself makes her heart ache. If he knew how she really felt, how much she loved him…would it be enough to convince him he’s worthy? “You’re fucking incredible. Imagine if your dad knew you fought monsters and saved the town! You’re a hero.” She insists. “I’m the fuck-up, not you.” She murmurs.

“No, you’re not. "Don't you ever say that shit again," Steve warns, his face inches from hers. He runs a finger along her jawline, and she registers a shiver of electricity running through her body.

“I am. I’ve not done anything like that. My parents are right. I’m a loser, a-and nobody likes me-” she murmurs, her voice cracking.

She’s cut off by Steve kissing her. Soft, hesitant at first, then firmer. The sensation, the scent, and the taste are still vivid in her memory, even now. The smooth warmth of the whisky, the sudden hit of the mint gum he brought to mask their drinking, and the smell of his cologne, ‘borrowed’ from his father to seem more mature, to make him proud of him. 

“I like you,” Steve whispers, his fingers brushing against hers as he pulls back slightly. “A lot. And I know I shouldn’t have done that, but hearing you talk so shitty about yourself-”

This time, Y/N silences him with a kiss.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, she dreamt of Steve, the gentle warmth of his skin against hers, and visions of their shared future. 

But the next day, everything came crashing down. 

She remembers it just as vividly as the night they had their first kiss. The air was heavy with the smell of rain as it hit against Steve's BMW, drowning out the soft song playing on the radio.

But the thing that sticks with her the most… is that Steve couldn’t even look at her as he ripped her apart.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking out of the window, his gaze distant. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. We were tipsy, and I’m still not sure how I feel.”

“You sure seemed to know how you felt last night, Steve.” She snaps. “I wanted you to kiss me. I like you too.” she replies. Steve doesn’t answer. 

“I don’t know how I feel Y/N. I still have this thing with Nancy, and I might still like her, so it's not fair to you.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Y/N’s stomach twists, and her eyes sting with tears. 

“Steve, you said you liked me too.” She says, hating how her voice cracks on the last word. She wants him to know how angry she is, that he can’t just kiss her and then rip it all apart the next day. “So… so what? That’s it? You kiss me like that, then tell me you don't feel the same? You were lying to me?”

“Y/N-” He begins, but she cuts him off.

“And we’re just supposed to go back to normal after this? You want to just be friends, and for me to pretend I don't love you?” She demands, tears blurring her vision. “No, fuck that, Steve. I can’t do that.” She sniffs, opening the door and spilling out into the Hawkins evening air.

“Y/N, wait, it’s not forever! I just need time!” Steve insists. “Look, it’s gonna start pouring, at least let me give you a ride home! You’ll get soaked!” but she doesn’t turn back around, ignoring the urge to look back, to see if he was just as broken as her. 

Despite the pain he inflicted that night, she still hoped he would follow her. To apologise, to tell her he’s wrong, and declare his love for her.

He didn’t. 

Since that night, Y/N anxiously waited for Steve to decide and to give her some closure. Even as she watched him laughing with Nancy and other girls, and deep in her heart she understood he didn't want her anymore, a stubborn hope persisted within her. Even when she knew it was stupid, when he couldn’t even look at her anymore, when she knew it was over… she continued to wait for him, her hope unwavering. She still hoped something would change. Because she loved him so much, she could barely stand it. 

But he never came back, even to tell her what she already knew. And after so long hoping and dreaming, something in her just… snapped. 

And she stopped waiting.

So, when Christopher came along, so romantic and loving, promising her everything, Y/N said yes. She… settled. Even though her heart still longed for Steve, still wished it was him taking her to prom, sending her Valentine’s gifts, and promising to be hers forever. 

Steve didn’t want her, and she made her peace with that, even though it was tearing her up inside.

Even though it still is.

Deep down, a part of her still wonders if her parents had something to do with Steve never coming back. Christopher had everything. His future was bright, with a trust fund secured and prestigious law schools eager to accept him. He was the young man every parent hoped their daughter would bring home. Steve, ‌who gave up his popular, rich-kid life to work in an ice cream shop, a video store, and as a radio DJ, was precisely the person her parents disapproved of. Even though Y/N would have sacrificed it all for Steve. 

Nancy never had to deal with that. This wedding is the perfect mix of her and Jonathan, and even though they’ve had their struggles, it’s clear Ted and Karen love her and support her choices, and never forced her into anything. As she registers her grip on the glass tighten once again, Y/N lets out a weary sigh.

She’s had enough bitterness in her heart for years. It’s not Nancy’s fault Y/N’s marriage fell apart, or why she’s been standing here all day trying not to implode with all the thoughts of her own disastrous wedding replaying in her mind. 

It was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. She was supposed to be the blushing bride, radiant. 

Instead, all she felt was a vast sense of emptiness and exhaustion. She wasn’t happy. Her parents knew it, and deep down she knew Christopher did too, despite his cheerful demeanour. But she still plastered on a bright, almost aching smile, welcoming her guests and acting out a scene of domestic bliss. Everyone was there. Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Vickie, the kids… all telling her how beautiful she looked, and how happy they were for her. 

Y/N felt utterly ridiculous, a pathetic shadow of herself, still clinging to the childish fantasy of her teenage crush bursting in to stop her wedding by professing his undying love. Her parents were watching her like a hawk, poised to rectify any mistake. Because god forbid she ruins the charade of this happy day, this excuse to show off their wealth and notoriety in society, by admitting she’s not happy. Thankfully, if her guests thought she was faking it, they said nothing.

She tried once. To fight for herself, for Christopher, their happiness, and stop things before they went too far. 

“And what? Who do you think will be there for you? Steve Harrington?” her father laughed coldly. “That loser?”

"Stop calling him that, he's a good man-"

“Oh please? The "good man" who abandoned you for his high school sweetheart? And still didn’t come back to you when they broke up?” Her mother scoffed, her tone pure disbelief, and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “He doesn’t want you.”

She still invited Steve to the wedding, though. Honestly, she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. Part of her was hoping he wouldn’t show up, that she could start her new life without his shadow. But he still came. Because she and Steve are so connected, they just gravitate toward each other. 

Despite her best efforts to hide from the world, Steve found her in a side room, standing in front of a mirror. Her shoulders shook as she tried not to sob, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Go away, Steve,” she choked out, furiously wiping her eyes. 

“There you are.” He grinned, leaning against the doorway. His brown eyes moved down her figure, reigniting the bitterness, rage and heartbreak within her. How could he just ditch her with no apology so easily, and then come to her wedding like nothing had happened between them? “God, you’re gorgeous.” He slurred, the scent of alcohol clear on his breath.

But fuck, she still wanted him so badly. She could already feel her ‘perfect’ life and marriage unravelling with just a glimpse of Steve Harrington's smile.

“Steve, are you drunk?” Steve didn’t respond, his laughter filling the air as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. As his cologne, a deep, intoxicating scent filled her nostrils, her heart stopped, her breath hitched in her throat.

He still smelt the same as that night at the country club. The night he kissed her, ‌his lips tasting of whisky and mint. When he told her he loved her…

“It’s your wedding! Of course I’m drunk!” 

“You can barely stand up.” She huffed. 

“Y/N, it’s fiiiiine.” Steve smiled. But then, he pulled away from her. As his gaze lingered on her, more memories of that night on the grass flooded Y/N’s mind. The night she would’ve burned her entire shitty life to the ground just to be with Steve. For a moment, all she could picture was the look in Steve’s eyes as he gazed at her that night. 

He looked at her like that then. Even though they were older, on two separate paths in life, and she had a ring on her finger… Steve still had that lovesick look on his face, like she hung the moon. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, biting his lip a little.

“For what?”

“For not tellin’ you how I felt. Or coming to see you.”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head, insistent.

“No. I figured out how I feel. A-About you. It’s you.” Her heart pounded, thudding against her ribcage so loudly she swore the entire party could’ve heard it. But all she cared about was Steve.

"Tell me to run," she silently urged, her fingers tightening around his. “Tell me to run, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.” For a moment, she swore Steve was thinking about doing just that. Of leaving Hawkins and all their shit behind, with her on his arm. Just her and Steve. Forever.

"Please." she breathed out before she could stop it, the word a soft whisper.

“Y/N… I-” his voice was barely audible as he whispered. “Fuck. I’m drunk.” He chuckled lightly, squeezing her hand. “But I need to say-" Her heart pounded in her chest, and she gasped for air.

“Yeah?”

But then, it all came crashing down yet again. “Y/N! There you are, sweetheart!” Her mother called, walking into the room. “What on earth are you doing in here? Your guests are-" Her gaze fell upon Steve holding her close, and a look of disdain crossed her face. “Steve. What are you doing here? And why are you holding my daughter like that?”

Steve must’ve felt her blood turn to ice then, noticed how she stiffened within his embrace. Even in his drunken haze, when he locked eyes with her again, she could see the look in his eyes, the way he was ready to defend her honour, like the hero he was. Even though by this point, it was a lost cause. Y/N knew it was. She had for years.

And maybe Steve did, too.

With a soft sigh, Steve gently pulled away, his lips brushing softly against Y/N's cheek in a tender kiss. His lips were still just as soft as the night he kissed her. And still made her feel the same way. Y/N's skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled away, and she bit her lip hard to stop crying. “I was just…wishing her well.” Steve murmured. In response, her mother simply scoffed. 

“Well, she has a husband now, and a good roof over her head. Which is more than I can say about some people-”

“Mother!” Y/N snapped. “Steve’s my friend. Don’t be so rude.”

“Come now, Y/N. He’s a loser.” She hissed.

“Don’t-” Y/N began, but Steve cut her off.

“No. No…she’s right.” He murmured with a shrug. “Congrats, Y/N.” He managed a small smile, heading out of the room.

“Steve, wait!” Y/N gasped, trying to go after him.

“Now, now. This is for your own good, darling.” Her mother said, linking her arms with hers a little too tightly for Y/N’s comfort. Y/N ignored her, pulling her arm free and chasing after Steve. 

But by the time she got back to the party, he was gone.

And she never saw him again.

Until now, when they’re both at Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. Where once again, Y/N is plastering a smile on her face and dodging all questions about her husband. 

Her marriage ended about a year after the wedding. She and Christopher tried really hard to make it work, and she tried to love him. But she just couldn’t, and they both knew that. Thankfully, Christopher took it better than she expected, and the breakup was amicable. Despite everything, they remained friends, and last she heard, he’d met someone new.

Her parents, however, were an entirely separate matter. Her divorce was an embarrassment because ‘the others at the country club would look down on them for this’, and ‘how dare she ruin their relationship with Christopher’s family?!’

And after years of enduring their abuse and judgement, and of them ruining her life and her happiness, Y/N finally told them the three words she’d been waiting to for years, and walked out of their lives.

“Kiss my ass.”

She hasn’t spoken to them since, and feels so much better. …She just hasn’t had the chance to tell the others yet, and the last thing she wants is to steal the spotlight from Nancy and Jonathan, to ruin yet another wedding. So for the whole day, people have been walking on eggshells around her, not sure how to broach the subject.

Much like her own wedding.

Downing the rest of her glass, Y/N heads outside for a breather, the cool Hawkins air a welcome relief. She sits down on a bench, gazing up at the stars. The night sky always makes her feel so small, so insignificant. Or maybe that was just growing up the way she did.

“Hey.” A voice says, and she sighs. She knew this time would come, eventually. “This seat taken?" Steve asks, and she responds with a shake of her head. Steve sits, the surrounding air suddenly turning awkward. Y/N hates it. She used to be able to speak to Steve with no problem, and now, she has no idea what to say.

“Hey.” Is all she can muster.

“It’s good to see you again. Where’s…what’s his face? Your husband. You guys break up or somethin’?” A laugh escapes Y/N's lips for the first time that night. Leave it to Steve to be as subtle as a car crash.

“Yeah, we did, actually.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Steve murmurs.

“Nah, it’s fine. It was amicable. We just realised we weren’t compatible.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls again. Y/N’s heart pounds, thumping against her ribs. She racks her mind, thinking of something to say, anything. “I thought you were going to tell me to run at my wedding. That you loved me. I would’ve, if you had.” She says, immediately regretting it. Definitely not the best choice of words to say after ‌seeing each other for the first time in years, especially not after breaking everything beyond repair, but maybe after so long feeling resentful, of biting her tongue and playing along, she just wants to let it all out.

“Well sorry, but I didn’t think you’d have wanted me to, and then your mom got involved-” He says, clearly uncomfortable by the sudden revelation. “And you seemed so happy! Even when you two first started dating.”

“I wasn’t!” She retorts, snapping. “I just wanted you. Fuck, Steve. I would’ve dropped everything to be with you. And only you. And you would’ve known that if you bothered to talk to me!”

“God, Y/N, you don’t think I tried?!” Steve’s voice cracks. “But you had your new relationship, and your parents were refusing to hear me out and let me near you. And then your wedding….” He cuts himself off with a deep groan, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to stop it…but I just couldn’t. Because I kept thinking, what if your parents were right? What if everyone was? What if I’m just a loser who doesn’t deserve you, and should let you be with someone who could provide for you?” His words send a pang of pain through her chest, and she inches nearer to Steve. For a moment, her fingers brush against his skin, sending another shiver up her spine.

“Steve, you’re not a loser. I’m the loser. I forced myself into a relationship I didn’t even want, just to impress my parents.”

“Stop it.” He shakes his head. “Stop putting yourself down. It pisses me off that someone so incredible, so beautiful thinks of herself that way. Just because of her parents.” 

“Well… I told them to fuck off a long time ago, so I don’t need to deal with them anymore.” She says, making Steve grin proudly.

“That’s my girl.” That sends another pang through her heart, her chest aching. She could’ve been his girl a long time ago, and saved them from all this pain.

“So…” She murmurs awkwardly. “Now we know I’m single, how about you? Found someone?” She asks, subtly scanning his left hand and trying to spot a wedding ring. She can’t help feeling relieved when she doesn’t spot a band across his finger.

“Yeah.”

“O-Oh.” She murmurs, biting her lip. “I-I didn’t realise. Congrats. Is she here? I didn’t see you with someone.” A cool breeze blows, and she shivers. Without another word, Steve takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. It smells warm, comforting… like home. She takes a sniff, realising she’s already tearing up. How typical of her, ruining everything yet again. “Shouldn’t you be giving her this? She lets out a tearful giggle. “Can’t imagine she’d be happy to see another woman with your jacket.”

“Well… I don’t think she’d care.” He chuckles, and she raises a brow. “I met someone.” Steve nods. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Shit. Sorry.” She says, and he shrugs.

“Don’t worry about it. She wasn’t you.” He admits. Y/N’s eyes widen, and her mouth drops open. 

"Wh-What are you talking about?" she stammers. Steve turns to face her, his hand caressing her skin as he softly cups her cheek, turning her face closer to his. 

“That's why I broke up with her. It’s why I broke up with every woman I dated… because they weren't you. I love you, Y/N. I always have.” She blinks at him, still in shock, still wondering if she’s dreaming. “And I’m so sorry for what happened all those years ago.”

"Same," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. "I mean, Steve, the reason Christopher and I broke up." Because he’s not you. I’m so sorry for everything, especially for letting my parents come between us-”

“Y/N.” he begins, but she shakes her head. She opens her mouth, and he shakes his head. “Don’t you dare apologise. It’s not your fault you have shitty parents.”

“No. Steve, let me say this.”

“Y/N… it’s okay.” He smiles. “I’m just glad we can start again now. We still have time.”

And with that, he leans over and kisses her.

“Excuse me?” Charlie calls, her voice echoing around the lobby of the motel. "Hello?" The remnants of the storm outside drip down her red curls onto her shoulders, and her boots leave a trail of wet footprints on the stained and threadbare carpet. “Jesus, I’m gonna freeze here if this guy doesn’t show up.” She mutters, huddling into herself for warmth and looking around. The motel is in the middle of nowhere and looks like a total shithole, but since she’s on the run, Charlie knows she can’t be too picky. She rummages around in her pocket, ignoring the loose change and lint, and pulls out her vape. But just as she brings it to her lips to take a puff…

“Hey, you can’t vape in here.” A voice sounds from behind her, making her jump.

“Jesus, fuck… now you decide to show up, buddy?”

The guy moves behind the front desk. He’s young, Charlie notes. Probably college age. Definitely destined for more than being in this shitty motel for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, Charlie can’t say the same for herself.

But as soon as he sees Charlie, his eyes widen. “Oh, um, I-I mean… I guess you could? I don’t know. Please don’t arrest me! I haven’t done anything illegal. I mean, I smoked pot in college, but that’s not so bad, is it?”

Charlie frowns. “...What the fuck are you talking about, dude?” The guy gestures to her shoulder. Charlie’s eyes follow his gaze. And when she realises what he’s pointing at, her body deflates.

Luca’s jacket. She’s had it on this whole time, even used it to shelter from the storm. “Oh, t-this isn’t mine.” She stammers. “My friend gave it to me.” She chuckles awkwardly. But after everything they’ve been through together, could Luca even be just a friend to her now? Even when she desperately wishes he could be more. Ignoring the knot twisting in her stomach, she realises the guy is looking at her like she’s grown an extra head.

“Sorry, you expect me to believe that an FBI agent, your friend-“ the guy scoffs incredulously. “Gave you his jacket?”

“…yeah?” Charlie frowns, as if it’s obvious.

“Bullshit.”

“That’s my line.” She retorts, already done with this conversation. Because she swears if she talks about Luca Clark even more, she’ll burst into tears. And that’s the last thing anyone wants, least of all Charlie herself. Yet, the guy keeps going.

"Not a chance."

“Look. I’ve helped him out with some cases, and…this is a thank you gift?” She offers. Obviously, it’s not the complete truth, but hopefully it gets him off her back before he calls the cavalry on her, and Luca makes good on his warning. Even if she’d love the chance to see him again… although preferably in happier circumstances.

Charlie can’t blame the guy for disbelieving her, of course. To anyone else, that story sounds insane. But it’s real to her. She and Luca's lives are now so deeply connected that she can't picture living without him.

Even now.

“Look, we can stand here debating this all night, but I’m tired and I don’t have time for this.” Charlie groans. “Please, can I just get a room?”

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ 

The room, much like the lobby, is a mess. The lobby was cold, but the room is like a fucking freezer. A musty smell hangs in the air, and the paint flakes off the walls. There’s also a dark stain in the corner that Charlie would rather not know the origin of (and will instead spend the rest of the night overthinking about it).

Her hand flies out, grabbing her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen and dialling Luca’s number. "Holy shit, Luca, you won't believe this," she'd say, her voice trembling, “It looks like there's been a murder in here. I’ll start looking for clues, then you come in, and we’ll solve it together, like always, cause we make an incredible team.”

But suddenly she remembers… and stops. And finally, everything that happened that day finally crashes down on Charlie Cale. Sobs wrack her body, each one a painful, heaving gasp that escapes from her chest in a mournful wail. Her legs give way, but the soft mattress cushions her fall. Ready to go to sleep and disappear from the world, she draws back the covers, only to let out a sudden "Eurgh." when she sees the stain on the bedding. "Fuck that." She sniffs, climbing on top of the covers and huddling up under Luca's jacket.

As she snuggles down, wiping at her tears, the faint, familiar scent of Luca's jacket fills her nostrils, intensifying her sobs.

He trusted her. Even though everyone who hears about her power thinks she's lying, Luca believed her. But not just that. He didn't see her as just a power, something to be exploited. He saw her, who she really was. And he looked at her like she hung the moon, like she was some crime fighting genius. ...Even if he tried to pretend like she was a pain in the ass.

And how does she repay him? By completely destroying everything he's ever worked for. But even then, instead of just throwing her to the wolves like he had every right to... Luca let her go. He saved her by letting her go. Even though she’s such a colossal fuck-up that she trusted a fucking assassin and got people killed because she just had to be so damn stubborn… Luca still put his job on the line to put her first.

Since Natalie died, all Charlie’s ever tried to do is save others and bring them justice, to do some good finally in a world that’s so wicked. 

She just wanted to fucking be Lady Galahad.

And the one chance she had, the person who tried to help her, who understood her, who she thought she had something with… she threw away. She’s never going to see him again, and it’s all her fault.

Some hero she is.

Shaking, sniffling, and alone… Charlie Cale tries to get some sleep.

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ 

The punching bag swings back and forth, the thuds of Bucky’s punches echoing throughout the gym. Sweat drips down his face, but he pays no mind to it. He’s engrossed, focused.

“Jeez.” Sam mutters, watching Bucky attack the punching bag. “Why are you punishing the punching bag like that? What the hell happened?”

“Y/N.” Bucky grunts, his breath ragged as he continues to punch. 

“As in…?”

“She’s been avoiding me since the mission we had together.” Another hit.

"How do you know that? Maybe she's busy."

"She leaves the room the second I walk in, Sam." Bucky sighs, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and sadness as he grabs water. "And she hasn't said more than a few words to me." Another sigh. "It's only been happening since that mission."

Sam raises an eyebrow. “The same mission where you both went undercover as a married couple, kissing and all?” Bucky nods. “Gee, I wonder why she’d be avoiding you.” He says sarcastically. 

Bucky frowns, nervous. “As in, she didn’t like it?” he murmurs, worried that he’s hurt her somehow, that he's scared her away from him forever. Sam chuckles, grabbing his things and heading towards the door.

“Or she liked it a lot.”

The door closes behind Sam, and Bucky is alone in the gym, his mind racing. Could that really be it? Such a simple explanation? Y/N… liked being his wife, even if it was just pretend? God, he hopes so. Because he liked it too. 

A lot.

That thought stays with Bucky through the rest of his workout, his shower, and his walk back to his room. He groans, rubbing his hair with a towel. He’s so distracted that he almost collides with someone. Luckily for him though, it’s exactly who he wanted to see. “Hey Y/N.”

“Oh.” Y/N’s eyes widen, tracing over Bucky’s incredible muscles in his black t-shirt. Bucky chuckles, smirking as he watches her. It’s good to know he still has the same effect on women, even now. “H-Hey Bucky.”

“Hey Y/N.” He says, his voice slightly husky. “Haven’t seen you since the mission. I missed you.”

“You did?” Bucky nods.

“And I was worried about you. That you were avoiding me because you didn’t like it, or I did something wrong.” He steps even closer, noticing Y/N’s expression change even more.

“No! God, no. You didn’t do anything, it was all perfect.” she insists, still unable to break eye contact with Bucky despite her attempts to look away.

“Then why’ve you been avoiding me?”

“Because it was so real to me, Bucky!” she exclaims suddenly. “It was real to me then, and it was real to me now.” She exclaims. “And the thought of having to go back to normal, t-to this boring life, without you…” she sighs. “I just couldn’t face seeing you again, and knowing I wanted to be with you.”

“You know….” Bucky smirks, taking a sip of his water as his eyes trace her figure. “If you wanted to go for a drink with me, you could’ve just asked me.”

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ 

“Steve?” Y/N asks from her position on the couch as she meticulously works on her battle gear.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…” she begins, but stops when she feels Robin's intense gaze on her. Naturally, Robin figured out Y/N's crush on Steve almost immediately and has subtly been encouraging her to admit it to him. 

And judging by the grin spreading across Robin’s face, she thinks that Y/N’s about to tell him the truth now. But she couldn’t be further from the truth. “…can you show me how to use your bat, please?”

“What?!” Robin exclaims, her voice full of disbelief and clearly louder than intended, given the blush that immediately spreads across her cheeks as everyone’s heads turn to look at her. “…Um, I meant, are you sure? Steve’s quite protective of his bat.” She explains awkwardly.

“She’s right. He doesn’t even let me use it.” Dustin nods. Y/N sighs, bracing herself for disappointment.

To her surprise, Steve nods with a slight smile. “Yeah, I’ll teach you.” Seeing the confusion on everyone’s faces, he shrugs. “What? It'll be good for her to arm herself for the fight, and I have my chainsaw now.” Steve gestures with his head to Y/N to come over, and she stands in front of him, holding the bat and positioning her body in her best fighting stance. “Good, but.... If you do it like this,” Steve murmurs, moving closer. His breath is warm on her neck as he places his hands over hers, gently moving them along the bat. “You’ll strike that asshole even harder.” He even practices a few strikes with her, guiding her through the steps. 

As his skin brushes against hers, and she feels the warmth of Steve’s body against hers, Y/N’s heart rate increases, thumping against her ribcage. Goosebumps blossom on her skin, the tingling sensation spreading down her arm. Thankfully for her, if Steve notices the effect he has on her, he doesn’t mention it.

…which is less than can be said about the rest of the party. Dustin and Robin are grinning ear to ear, while the others are smirking. Y/N's face burns with embarrassment, and she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“You’re a natural.” Steve grins. "Even better than me."

"No way."

"Nah, seriously Y/N...." He trails off. "You're incredible."

For a fleeting moment, Y/N swears his eyes flicker to her lips, and that he moves his head ever so slightly closer. But it’s gone in the blink of an eye.

“T-Thanks.” Y/N murmurs, hoping the others say nothing. Steve turns, frowning when he sees everyone staring at him and Y/N.

“...What are you all staring at?”

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ 

The town square is a whirlwind of panic, with hushed whispers and worried glances that only intensify as the King, Queen, and royal guard enter. During the night, a gigantic beanstalk inexplicably appeared in a field on the Harrington's farm. That same night, Princess Y/N, the best friend of their son, Steve Harrington, vanished. Although the townspeople don’t know what happened, there is one common thread throughout their conversations.

For centuries, rumours have told of a gigantic monster that lives in the clouds, emerging every so often to steal livestock and fair maidens away in the night. Most thought it was a legend, a warning whispered to keep people safely inside.

Now, they’re not so sure.

“I wonder what happened? Is Steve involved?” Someone asks. “The beanstalk is on his family’s farm….”

“Working with that monster? He would never.” Another responds.

“Absolutely not. He loves the princess, and he has a heart of gold.” Another person shakes their head. Hearing this response, a guard stalks forward, a disapproving glare on his face. 

“Love has nothing to do with it. Princess Y/N should be with someone resembling her station. Certainly not a farm boy.” He spits. He steps forward before they can respond. “Ladies and gentlemen, please do not worry. Yes, the princess may be missing, but we will find her and bring her back, no matter what it takes. There's no need for you to concern yourself with him.” He scoffs dismissively. “Probably hiding like a coward, anyway.” He mutters to some of the other guards, who snigger along with him.

But then, a huge thud fills the air, loud enough to shake the ground beneath their feet. A cloud of dust spreads towards the square, causing even more confusion and panic. “Please stay calm! We’ll find out what’s causing this-”

“Look!” someone shouts over the crowd. Emerging from the dust cloud, Steve cradles Princess Y/N close, keeping a tight, protective grip on her as she walks. His hand is a warm, reassuring presence against her aching, terrified body. A shiver runs through her, and he tenderly kisses her temple. Her parents rush forward, their faces wet with tears.

“What happened, my darling?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Steve saved me….” She coughs, her voice trembling. “He fought the monster, a-and saved me.”

“What?” The arrogant guard from before sputters, half shocked, half incensed as he comes closer. “You can’t possibly be serious. You….” He points at Steve, looking him up and down dismissively, voice full of disdain. “Saved her? A farm boy like you?” Steve stays beside Y/N’s side, ignoring the guard’s continued onslaught. His hand interlinks with Y/N’s, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’re not even a knight, you’re just a nobody.” The guard spits. Steve’s eyes narrow in anger, and he leaves Y/N with her parents, giving her another kiss on her temple, stepping toe to toe with the guard. 

“You’re right. I’m not.” He nods. “I’m just a man who loves her, and values her for who she is as a person, rather than her title, which is more than can be said for you.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that! You’re-”

“And yet, without all your training, I saved her life, and did it all on my own.” Steve interrupts. He looks the guard up and down, smirking. “Am I noble enough for you now?”

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ 

Sam Wilson is many things. The literal Captain America, an Avenger, a war veteran, a brother, an uncle….

He’s also extremely fucking jealous.

Tonight is another of Tony Stark’s legendary New Years parties, as extravagant as ever. The room is full of music, chatter and laughter. But Sam stands alone. He watches Y/N and Bucky together, standing across the room, engrossed in a conversation. Bucky says something that makes Y/N laugh, one of her laughs that Sam loves so much. Where her eyes sparkle and her grin is wide. The type of laugh that makes Sam’s chest go all warm and fuzzy.

And the fact Bucky is making her laugh like that, rather than him, sent a sharp pain through his chest.

He doesn’t mean to be like this. After all, Bucky’s one of his best friends, and he knows he’s a great guy trying to rebuild himself after years under Hydra’s control. He truly deserves his happiness with the one he loves, regardless of who it is.

But why did it have to be her?

Because Y/N’s everything to Sam. His reason to keep fighting, the one who can help calm him down and talk through any issue he’s facing. He’s loved her for months now, but being a literal superhero keeps him busy, meaning he’s never had the chance to admit his feelings.

And now, it looks like he’s too late.

And the thought she’d like Bucky more than him, that he’s not as important to her as he is to him, really fucking hurts.

“What are you so grumpy about?” A voice says, pulling him out of his daydream. Y/N stands there, frowning. Sam feels his heart stop.

“I’m not grumpy.” He retorts, looking away from her. “Who says I’m-“

“Oh, please.” Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s a party, and you’re standing off in a corner looking all sorry for yourself. And you’ve been avoiding Bucky and I all night.”

“No, I’ve not!”

“Then why can’t you look at me when I’m talking to you?”

Her question stuns him into silence. She’s right. He can’t look her in the eye. Because if he does, he’s not sure he’d be able to survive it. “I’m your best friend, Sam. You can talk to me.” She says, her voice softer, comforting.

He wants to talk to her. To tell her the truth. He wants to so badly. So, he does. But after keeping his feelings hidden for this long, it just… comes out, harsher than intended.

“Why don’t you and Bucky see if Stark has any mistletoe left over from Christmas?”

“Why would Bucky and I use mistletoe?” She frowns, raising a brow.

“Oh come on, you two aren’t subtle.” Sam scoffs. “Because you clearly like each other?”

Y/N continues to frown for a moment, but then…instead of confirming his thoughts, she laughs. She laughs and laughs, wiping tears from her eyes. “Wait, you think Bucky and I like each other?!” She says, breathless.

Sam frowns, embarrassed. “Well…yeah? You’re always around each other, laughing and-“

“Because he’s my friend!” She replies, still wiping her eyes. “Why on earth would you think…” her voice trails off, and her eyes widen. If this was a cartoon, a lightbulb would go on above her head. “Oh my god, you’re jealous!” She grins mischievously.

“No I’m not!” Sam insists, already feeling his cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

“You ARE!” She grins, still laughing. “Sam Wilson, Captain America himself, is jealous.”.

“Shut up.” Sam sighs, massaging his temples as the embarrassment continues to build.

“Bucky’s nice and all, but he’s not my type.” She explains, composing herself enough to take a sip from her glass, looking Sam up and down with another smirk. “I prefer Captains to Sergeants.”

~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~ ~ * ~