#stucky fluff

You weren’t the jealous type, you had no reason to be, not when Steve and Bucky had given you every reassurance, every reason to trust them. And you did trust them. You trusted them blindly.

But can you trust the world?

Trust didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you saw Cassidy wedged between them on the couch, laughing at something Bucky said. It didn’t stop the sting when Steve placed a comforting hand on her back, so absentmindedly, so effortlessly, like it was second nature.

Like it was something he used to do for you.

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket. That was your spot. That had always been your spot. Between them. Their arms around you. Their warmth surrounding you.

Now?

Now Cassidy sat there, twirling a lock of her hair, giggling, her body angled towards them like she belonged. And Steve and Bucky?

They didn’t even notice you standing there.

“You’re imagining things, Y/n.” Natasha leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee as she watched you pick at your food. She didn’t say it dismissively, but there was caution in her voice. Careful, Y/n. Don’t spiral.

“I’m not...” Your voice was hollow. You pushed your plate away and exhaled shakily. “She’s always there, Nat. Always with them. Always touching them...” You swallowed hard, shame burning in your throat. “I feel like… like I don’t exist anymore.”

Natasha sighed, setting her cup down. “Come on. You know Steve and Bucky. They’d never…”

“I know they wouldn’t.” Your fingers curled into fists. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Natasha studied you, eyes softer now. “Talk to them, then.”

You nodded. You would. Of course, you would.

But deep down, you were terrified they wouldn’t see it, because they never seemed to see you anymore, ever since Cassidy came.

At first, it was small things.

A conversation cut short because Cassidy had a question. A training session where she suddenly needed Bucky to correct her stance, his hands on her wrists, her waist. A mission debrief where she sat beside Steve, too close, her voice too soft.

Then the canceled plans started.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but we promised we’d show Cassidy the training simulations today.”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I swear.”

“We’ll take you out tomorrow, okay?”

Tomorrow never came.

And suddenly, your nights felt emptier. You’d wake up reaching for them, only to find cold sheets where they should have been. You weren’t sure what hurt more.

The loneliness or the fact that they didn’t even realize you were lonely.

They were still yours, weren’t they?

Then why did it feel like you were losing them?

It had been days, days since you had a proper conversation with either of them. Days since they held you like they used to. The only time you got them was at night, in bed.

And yet, there she was again, always there, standing too close to Steve as he poured coffee in the kitchen. Bucky leaned against the counter, smirking at something she said, arms crossed over his chest.

“God, Steve, I still don’t know how you carry that shield around all day.” Cassidy reached out, brushing her fingers over his bicep. “Guess it helps that you’re, like, all muscle.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“What about you, Bucky?” She turned to him, eyes bright. “I mean, that metal arm has to be heavy, right? Can I?”

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s lighter than it looks.” Bucky smirked, flexing his vibranium fingers.

Sweetheart.

Your stomach dropped, that was your name. He called you that. Not her.

Your blood ran cold as Cassidy laughed, playfully nudging Bucky’s arm. Steve smiled, amused. Not once did they notice you standing there. Not once did they feel the air shift, the way your entire world was starting to crumble.

That night, you laid in bed alone. Again.

Because, Steve and Bucky had been in the common room with Cassidy, and you couldn’t take it anymore. So you had left.

You curled into yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sob from escaping.

They were just being nice. Right?

They didn’t see what you saw. Didn’t feel what you felt. Didn’t see how much it was killing you. Right?

And you were too afraid to ask the question burning inside you, “What if they don’t miss me like I miss them?”

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting all alone in the common room.

The compound was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You sat curled up on the couch in the dark, staring at nothing, arms wrapped around yourself as if that could hold you together. The weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, pressing down, suffocating.

You had spent the entire day alone. Again.

They hadn’t noticed. Again.

The cushion beside you dipped, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Natasha.

“You’re doing that thing again…” she murmured.

You blinked. “What thing?”

“Shutting down.”

You inhaled sharply, dropping your gaze to your lap.

Natasha sighed, shifting to face you. “Sweets, talk to me.”

Natasha always called you that name, and her reason was you were the only sweet person in her life.

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” She reached out, squeezing your knee. “I see you, you know. The way you’re fading. The way you barely eat. The way you don’t sleep until you’re too exhausted to fight it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your pants.

“They love you, Sweets.” Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm. “This… whatever this is, it’s temporary. They’ll see what’s happening.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, they won’t…” Your throat burned as you whispered, “They don’t see me anymore, Nat.”

Silence.

Natasha shifted closer, resting her forearm on the back of the couch. “We survived worse, you and me. Remember?”

You knew where she was leading the conversation, but you didn’t care.

“I wish I could remember.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Natasha frowned. “Remember what?”

You exhaled shakily, gaze unfocused. “How they trained us. How they made us feel nothing.”

Natasha tensed. “Don’t do that,” she warned. “Don’t go there.”

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. “Why not? It would be easier.” Your voice cracked. “I wouldn’t have to feel like this. Wouldn’t have to wake up reaching for them only to remember I don’t exist to them anymore.”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your knee. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your smile was hollow. “They canceled our date today, Nat. Again. I was supposed to spend the evening with them. Instead, I spent it watching Cassidy laugh at Bucky’s jokes and touch Steve’s arm and…” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper. “And they let her.”

Natasha’s expression darkened, but she said nothing.

You turned your gaze back to the floor. “I just… I don’t want to feel this anymore.”

She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “You’re not in the Red Room anymore, Sweets. You have them. You have me.”

You nodded. But the ache in your chest remained, because deep down, you weren’t sure if you still had them at all.

The bed felt massive. You lay curled up on one side, facing away from the door, the covers pulled tightly around you. The scent of Steve and Bucky still lingered on the sheets, but it brought no comfort.

Then the mattress dipped.

First on one side, then the other. Warm bodies slid in beside you, their familiar presence surrounding you.

“Doll?” Steve’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Bucky shifted behind you, his arm resting loosely around your waist. “We’re sorry about earlier, sweetheart.”

Your throat burned.

“We’ll make it up to you,” Steve added quickly. “We’ve got a whole day planned for you tomorrow. Just the three of us. No interruptions, promise.”

Tomorrow.

You closed your eyes.

They had said that last time.

And the time before that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing yourself to stay silent.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, talk to us, Doll. We know you’re mad.”

Mad.

Was that what they thought this was? Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because what was the point? Tomorrow would come, and it would be the same.

Cassidy would be there.

Steve and Bucky wouldn’t notice.

And you? You would be alone again. A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept your eyes closed. If you stayed quiet, maybe they wouldn’t hear how badly you were breaking.

Morning passed in a blur.

You moved through training sessions on autopilot, barely speaking, barely feeling. Natasha watched you carefully, her sharp gaze catching every falter, every moment you hesitated before leaving the gym. You knew she wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure if you had it in you to listen.

So you just kept going.

Kept pretending.

Kept waiting for Steve and Bucky to remember.

And then they did. Or so you thought.

“Doll, come on! Movie night’s all set up!”

Bucky’s voice rang through the hall as you made your way toward the common room, a flicker of hope stirring in your chest.

They remembered. They finally remembered.

For the first time in days, your heart didn’t feel so heavy. You ran your fingers through your hair, exhaling softly as you reached the doorway, ready to sink into the warmth of your boys.

And then you saw her.

Cassidy.

Sitting between them.

Again.

Your body locked up, breath catching in your throat. She was curled up comfortably, her legs tucked beneath her as she laughed at something Bucky whispered in her ear. Steve sat relaxed beside her, arm draped over the back of the couch, so damn close, so damn easy, like she belonged there.

Like she belonged with them.

You forced yourself to speak, though your voice barely carried. “What is she doing here?”

Steve turned, smiling at you. That easy, oblivious smile that used to make your heart race.

Now?

It made you feel sick.

“She didn’t know it was just meant to be us,” he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we didn’t wanna be rude, so…”

You didn’t hear the rest, your ears were ringing.

They didn’t want to be rude to her. You stared at them. At her. And then you swallowed down every emotion clawing its way up your throat. “Enjoy the movie.”

That was all you said before turning on your heel and walking away.

They didn’t call after you.

Didn’t chase you.

Didn’t even notice the way your hands were trembling as you pushed open the door.

The tears came before you even reached the elevator, but you didn’t stop walking, didn’t wipe them away, didn’t care if anyone saw.

Not that they would. No one ever did.

You should have gone to your room. You should have buried yourself under the covers and let the ache consume you in silence.

But the walls were closing in too fast.

So instead, you climbed, up the emergency stairwell, up to the roof, where the air was sharp and cold, where the wind bit at your damp cheeks, where no one could see you break.

Your hands gripped the ledge as you sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

They had remembered and it still hadn’t mattered.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, bitter and broken. You should have known, you should have known it would end up like this.

You closed your eyes, head tilting back as the city lights blurred beneath the weight of your tears.

You had never felt more alone.

By the time you came down from the roof, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest remained, suffocating and unrelenting.

You stepped into the hallway, head down, steps quick, just wanting to reach your room, just wanting to breathe without feeling like you were drowning.

But the moment you turned the corner, you froze.

Steve.

Bucky.

And her.

They were standing there, talking, laughing.

Cassidy’s hand was on Bucky’s arm, her body tilted toward him in that way she always did, like she was drawn to him. Steve stood beside them, relaxed, like the world wasn’t crumbling around you.

Like they hadn’t just broken your heart a little more.

Their laughter died down when they saw you.

You knew they noticed your red, swollen eyes. Knew they saw the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fists clenched at your sides.

But they didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

Didn’t ask where the hell you had gone.

No, Steve just frowned slightly, like he was trying to piece something together. Like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

You didn’t give him the chance, you walked past them without a word, without a glance.

Without acknowledging them at all.

And still, still they didn’t stop you.

The compound doors slammed shut behind you as you ran, your feet pounded against the pavement, muscles burning, lungs heaving, but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down, didn’t care where you were going, as long as it was away.

Away from the suffocating silence, away from them, away from her.

You pushed yourself harder, faster, as if you could outrun the pain clawing at your chest, the unbearable ache of being unseen by the two people who were supposed to know you best.

They had always seen you, hadn’t they? Then why did it feel like you were fading? Why did it feel like you were already gone?

You were so lost in your own head, so consumed by the roaring in your ears, that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until a firm hand grabbed your arm, yanking you to a stop.

“Enough.”

Natasha.

You blinked at her, breathing hard, vision blurring. But she didn’t let go. Didn’t loosen her grip. She just stared at you, her green eyes filled with something sharp, something dangerous.

Something like determination.

“I let this go on for too long,” she muttered. “That’s on me.”

You swallowed hard, chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths. “Nat…”

“No.” Her voice was steel. “You’re not doing this. You’re not running until your body gives out just because they’re too damn blind to see what’s happening.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do...”

She sighed, her hand loosening slightly but not letting go. “Then let me do something.”

Your breath hitched, but you believed in her.

Natasha had always been your anchor, your constant. You had survived hell together. She knew you better than anyone, sometimes even better than Steve and Bucky.

So when she said those words, when she looked at you like that, like she was done watching you suffer, something inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, “Okay.”

You hadn’t spoken much since that night, since the roof. Since Natasha found you and promised to do something.

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but you hadn’t expected him.

You sat on the rooftop again, legs pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees. The city stretched out before you, endless and glowing, but all you saw was the emptiness.

The way you had been fading, the way they had let you, the way it still hurt.

You exhaled shakily, trying to push it all down, trying to keep yourself from breaking again.

“Bub.”

Your breath caught, your heart stopped, that voice.

Rough. Low. Familiar.

A voice that belonged to only one person.

You turned slowly, the cold air biting at your tear-streaked face and there he was.

Logan.

Your brother.

Standing there, broad and tense, his sharp eyes scanning you with a fury you hadn’t seen in a long time, his jaw clenched.

SNIKT.

The sound of his claws unsheathing was sharp, deadly, cutting through the silence like a blade to the heart.

His eyes darkened, fists trembling, rage radiating from his very being.

“Who?”

It was just one word, just one syllable, but it carried the weight of a storm. You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze.

Logan stepped closer, his boots heavy against the rooftop, his presence overwhelming.

“Who did this to you, Bub?” His voice was lower now, dangerous. “Tell me. I’ll gut ‘em.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Logan...”

“Look at me.”

You did and the moment his eyes met yours, whatever restraint he had left snapped.

“Those sons of bitches!” he snarled, pacing now, breathing ragged. His claws flexed, his shoulders heaved, pure, unfiltered rage pouring from him. “You’re telling me those two idiots, our idiots did this? Made you feel like this?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t have to, because your silence was enough.

Logan let out a rough, guttural growl, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles went white despite the metal already tearing through his skin.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, you won’t.” Natasha’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering.

You turned just in time to see her step onto the rooftop, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Why the hell not?” Logan snapped. “They hurt her.”

“I know,” Natasha said evenly. “That’s why she’s leaving.”

Your breath hitched, “What?”

Natasha walked toward you, gaze softening as she reached out and brushed her knuckles against your cheek. “Pack a bag, Sweets. You’re going with Logan.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re actually letting me take her?”

“She needs to get away from here,” Natasha murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “From them.”

You stared at her, then at Logan, your throat tightening so painfully you thought it might close entirely.

“Tasha…”

“No arguments,” she said softly but firmly. “You’re not okay. And I won’t stand here and watch you disappear.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

You felt Logan’s heavy hand settle on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you.

“C’mon, Bub,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to leave.

But because leaving meant giving up. Leaving meant accepting that they had chosen her, that they had chosen everyone but you.

But maybe... maybe they had already made that choice a long time ago.

You inhaled sharply and nodded.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

Part 2

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“I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice”. You were hoping you could avoid this, get them to work as a team but they left you no choice.

After months of constant bickering and petty competition, you decided enough was enough when Bucky actively refused to let you go out on a run with Steve, claiming 'it'd be the perfect opportunity'.

So now you locked your own boyfriends in their bedroom.

"Sweetheart is this really necessary?" Steve asked with his arms crossed, which the multi-pane glass door allowed you to see, "I'm not the one being unreasonable", with feigned offense, Bucky smacked him in the chest "I'm not the one that crashed our dinner date even after I promised I wouldn't—"

Steve smacked back his shoulder before he could even finish "I saw you take the ring dipshit", your arms flapped around, trying to catch their attention but your dorks were too distracted fighting each other. It's not like you didn't enjoy seeing them genuinely fight for your love and attention, but this was going nowhere.

Bucky now smacked him a little harder, making you roll your eyes "Oh, that's how it is? we're name calling, ASS FACE?". And just like that, they began slapping and pushing each other, you found it endearing two weeks ago, now you were at your wits end.

"Hey!" you screamed, feeling like you were about to start ripping your hair out "I've had enough of you two acting like children" you huff "Proposing to the love of your life is supposed to be special" you sigh, watching as their faces morph from mischief to embarrassment "when you suggested a friendly competition I did not agree to this" you point out to the ridiculous situation you all were in.

"Since you two knuckleheads can't decide who'll propose first, you'll do it together and make it the most magical night of our lives, got it?"

"Of course baby"

“hey, sweetheart.” steve murmured as he sunk down on the couch next to you, bucky taking up his usual spot on the other side of you. “we could hear you spiralling from the other side of the tower. what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” he pulls you over gently until you’re curled up against his chest, head underneath his chin. bucky moves too, pressing himself against your side like his brain is preprogrammed to fill in any space between the two of you.

“if it’s about what they were talking about earlier, don’t listen to it. it’s not hard when you’re loving the right people.” bucky murmured, running his metal fingers through your hair gently. “let them say we’re crazy. what do they know about us anyway? we got each other, that’s all that matters. just the three of us. together.”

It still feels brand new.

Steve reaches up absentmindedly to fix the collar of Bucky’s Henley, smoothing it down with careful fingers. The gesture is automatic, domestic, intimate in a way that would mean nothing to anyone else—but everything to them.

Bucky’s breath catches. “You’re staring again,” he murmurs.

“Can’t help it,” Steve says softly.

The look in his eyes is the problem. Too fond. Too open. Too much.

They don’t hear Sam until he clears his throat behind them.

Both of them jump like they’ve been shot.

Sam stands in the doorway, one brow raised high enough to disappear into his hairline. “Mornin’. Y’all look… cozy.”

Steve steps back so fast he nearly knocks into the island. “Just—uh—training schedule.”

“At six in the morning?” Sam asks.

Bucky shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for Steve again. “He’s a menace about punctuality.”

Sam squints at them, suspicion simmering just below the surface. But after a moment, he just shakes his head. “Y’all are weird,” he mutters, grabbing a mug and moving to the coffee machine.

Steve and Bucky don’t breathe again until Sam leaves.

That’s close call number one.

---

They don’t mean to hide it. Not really.

It just… happens.

After everything—the war, the ice, HYDRA, the guilt, the grief—it feels fragile. Precious. Something too delicate to put under the bright lights of teasing and questions and scrutiny. They want to hold it close a little longer. Let it grow roots before the world touches it.

So they keep it between them.

Late nights in Steve’s room, doors locked, music low. Bucky’s metal fingers tracing lazy lines over Steve’s ribs. Steve pressing soft kisses to the scars on Bucky’s shoulder, reverent like prayer.

They fall asleep tangled together, and every morning before dawn, Bucky slips back to his own room.

Except the one time he doesn’t.

That’s close call number two.

Steve wakes to frantic knocking.

“Cap! You in there?”

It’s Wanda.

Bucky is still half-asleep, face buried against Steve’s chest, hair a mess. One metal arm is draped possessively across Steve’s waist.

Steve freezes.

“Yeah!” he calls, voice cracking slightly. “One second!”

Bucky jolts upright, eyes wide. “What time is it?”

“Too late,” Steve hisses.

There’s no time to sneak Bucky out the door. The hallway cameras would catch him. Natasha would definitely catch him. And once Natasha knows something, everyone knows.

Wanda knocks again. “We’re leaving in ten minutes!”

“On my way!” Steve calls.

They stare at each other.

Then Bucky does the only thing he can think of—dives off the bed and rolls underneath it.

Steve blinks. “You cannot be serious.”

“Shut up,” Bucky whispers from the floor.

Steve opens the door a crack, trying to block Wanda’s view inside. She leans against the frame, looking suspiciously amused.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” Steve says. “Just—stretching.”

Wanda’s eyes flick past him, scanning the room. The perfectly made bed—except for the very obvious dent on one side. The second pillow on the floor.

She smirks.

“Sure,” she says.

Steve’s heart pounds all the way down the hallway.

When he comes back later, Bucky is still under the bed.

“That was humiliating,” Bucky mutters as he crawls out, covered in dust.

Steve laughs so hard he has to sit down.

---

The worst close call is Natasha.

Of course it is.

They’re in the quinjet, flying back from a mission. It’s been rough—nothing catastrophic, but enough to leave everyone exhausted and bruised. Steve has a cut along his jaw; Bucky’s knuckles are split open and bleeding sluggishly.

They sit side by side.

Too close.

Steve doesn’t even think about it when he reaches over and takes Bucky’s hand.

It’s instinct. Automatic. Grounding.

Bucky looks at him, startled—and then soft.

Their fingers lace together.

Natasha, sitting across from them, goes very still.

“Cute,” she says flatly.

They both snap apart like magnets repelling.

“What?” Steve asks, too fast.

Natasha tilts her head. “You’re holding hands.”

“No we’re not,” Bucky says.

She gestures. “You were.”

“Wasn’t,” Steve insists.

She smiles slowly. Dangerously. “Relax. I’m not judging.”

Neither of them relaxes.

Natasha leans back in her seat, eyes glittering. “Just so you know? I’ve had my suspicions for months.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Months?” Bucky croaks.

“You’re not subtle,” she says. “You look at each other like idiots.”

Steve’s ears burn. “We do not.”

Natasha laughs outright. “Please. The heart eyes alone could power the jet.”

Bucky sinks lower in his seat. “You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

She considers it, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against her knee.

“Depends,” she says.

“On what?” Steve asks warily.

“On whether you two finally admit it,” she replies.

They exchange a look.

It’s terrifying. And exhilarating. And maybe—just maybe—it’s time.

Steve straightens. “We’re together.”

Natasha smiles softly, something warmer replacing the teasing edge. “Yeah. I know.”

Bucky exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a year.

“You deserve something good,” she adds quietly. “Both of you.”

And just like that, the fear melts into something lighter.

---

They don’t make a big announcement.

They don’t need to.

The team finds out slowly, organically—through the way Bucky stands closer now without flinching. Through the way Steve’s hand lingers openly at the small of Bucky’s back. Through shared smiles and inside jokes that no longer need disguising.

Sam pretends to be shocked.

Wanda hugs them both.

Natasha just smirks like she won something.

And one night, when they’re all sprawled across the common room watching a movie, Bucky rests his head openly on Steve’s shoulder.

No one says a word.

Steve presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s hair anyway.

There are no more close calls.

Just quiet, steady love.