#teasing reader

You shifted your gaze toward him and lifted one brow, subtle enough that no camera could accuse you of anything.

His mouth curved into a grin that was not meant for the fans.

“You're gonna break your neck if you keep staring like that,” Theo muttered under his breath, eyes still on the stage.

"Just appreciating art,” Keeho replied quietly. “You should try it.”

Intak scoffed, leaning forward. “That what you call it?"

“Jealous? Because she smiled at me earlier?” Keeho shot back.

"She smiled at all of us" Jongseob added calmly, fingers tapping against his knee. Then his eyes flicked toward you for half a second longer than necessary.

You caught it.

You always caught it.

You tilted your head, pretending to watch the stage, then glanced back at them through your lashes. A small smile played at your lips. Not big enough to be suspicious. Just enough to be felt.

Intak nearly choked.

“She is clever,” he whispered.

“Very,” Jiung said, exhaling slowly.

You faced forward again, heart thrumming with quiet amusement. They knew you too well. They all did. Dating all of them came with its own language, built of shared glances, stolen moments, and the kind of tension that never truly settled.

The host’s voice boomed through the speakers, announcing another performance. Applause erupted. You clapped politely, posture flawless, smile soft.

Behind you, Soul leaned toward Jongseob, voice low. “She looks really good tonight.”

Jongseob nodded once. “Mhm….stunning”

Onstage, idols danced and sang, but your attention drifted elsewhere. You felt Keeho’s gaze again, heavier now, more focused. You shifted in your seat, crossing your legs the other way, letting the slit of your dress reveal just a bit more skin.

Keeho inhaled sharply.

Theo noticed. “Relax,” he whispered.

“I am relaxed,” Keeho replied.

Jiung shot him a warning look. “You are going to get us caught.”

Keeho smirked. “Chill. She would never let that happen.”

As if summoned, you glanced back at them again. This time, your eyes landed on Jiung. You held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than safe. His lips parted slightly, breath hitching before he masked it with a calm expression.

Your smile turned slow, knowing.

Jiung looked away first.

Intak leaned back in his chair, clicking his tongue. “Unfair.”

“What is?” Theo asked.

“She looks like that and expects us to sit here and behave.”

“She does not expect it,” Soul said quietly. “She enjoys it.”

You did.

The award announcement came and went. P1Harmony’s name echoed through the venue, followed by cheers. They rose to their feet, bowing, faces carefully composed. You stood too, applauding with genuine pride.

Your eyes met Keeho’s as he bowed. For half a second, his expression softened. Something warm and private flickered there before he straightened and followed the others toward the stage.

When they returned to their seats, adrenaline still clung to them like static.

“Did you see her clapping?” Intak whispered. “She looked so proud.”

“Of course she did,” Keeho replied. “She loves us.”

“All of us,” Theo added pointedly.

Keeho glanced at him. “Yes. Thank you for the reminder.”

You listened to the next speech with half an ear, attention tugged back every time you felt eyes on you. Jongseob watched you like he was memorizing the moment, gaze thoughtful, intense. When you met his eyes, he gave the smallest nod, lips curving into a smile only you would recognize.

The backstage party buzzed like a living thing.

Music thumped low and steady, glasses clinked, laughter floated through clusters of idols and staff pretending they were not exhausted. Lights shifted between warm gold and cool violet, catching sequins, jewelry, the sharp lines of tailored suits. It smelled like perfume, champagne, and relief.

You entered like you belonged there. Because you did.

Your outfit still looked criminally good under the softer lighting, clinging in all the right ways, catching attention without asking permission. You moved through the room with practiced ease, greeting familiar faces, smiling for staff, laughing at comments you barely registered.

And then you saw them.

P1Harmony stood near one of the cocktail tables, drinks untouched, posture deceptively relaxed. To anyone watching, they looked like six successful idols enjoying a well-earned night.

To you, they looked coiled.

Keeho noticed you first. His eyes flicked up, widened just a fraction, then narrowed with something dangerously amused. Intak straightened immediately, running a hand through his hair like that might save him. Theo froze mid-laugh. Jiung’s shoulders squared. Soul tilted his head, calm but attentive. Jongseob’s gaze locked onto you and did not let go.

You smiled to yourself.

You approached them with perfect timing, just as a few reporters drifted closer, cameras hanging ready. You slowed near them, turning slightly as if surprised.

“Guys,” you said brightly. “Why don’t we take a picture together?“

Keeho’s jaw clenched.

“Sure,” he replied smoothly, already stepping closer. “Why not.”

They arranged themselves quickly. You stepped into the middle like it was the most natural thing in the world. Keeho and Jiung flanked you on either side, the others closing in just enough to frame the shot.

Flash.

You smiled wide for the camera, sweet and flawless.

Your hand slid back, fingers brushing lightly against Intak’s wrist. His breath stuttered.

Flash.

Your elbow pressed just slightly into Jiung’s side, soft and deliberate. His spine stiffened.

Flash.

Your heel nudged Theo’s shoe, toe brushing toe. He swallowed hard, eyes fixed forward.

Flash.

Your fingers drifted back again, this time grazing Jongseob’s hand. He did not move, but his thumb twitched toward you before he caught himself.

Soul watched it all with quiet disbelief, lips pressed together, shoulders tense.

Keeho leaned in just enough that only you could hear him, his smile never faltering. “We know what you are doing.”

You kept smiling, eyes bright for the camera. “What do you mean?”

His voice dropped lower. “You're enjoying this way too much.”

You tilted your head slightly, lashes fluttering. “I am just posing for the camera."

Another flash went off.

Keeho exhaled through his nose, fighting a grin. “You really know how to push buttons.”

You hummed softly, still smiling. “I thought you liked that about me.”

He said nothing, but the look he gave you promised something.

The photographers finally stepped back, satisfied. You held the smile for one extra second, then relaxed, stepping away from them like nothing had happened.

You turned to face them, hands clasped behind your back, expression open and innocent.

“So,” you said casually, eyes flicking between their faces. “Is one of you buying me a drink or what?”

Silence hit them like a wave.

Intak stared at you, mouth opening and closing once before he managed, “Are You Crazy?”

Theo laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is torture.”

Keeho folded his arms, studying you. “You know we cannot.”

You leaned closer, voice light. “I did not say you had to come with me.”

Jiung’s eyes darkened. “You‘re testing your luck.”

You shrugged. “No, I am thirsty.”

Jongseob cleared his throat, trying to sound composed. “You should… probably go.”

Soul nodded once, agreement quiet but firm.

You smiled at them, slow and deliberate, letting your gaze linger on each of them in turn. Keeho. Intak. Theo. Jiung. Soul. Jongseob.

Then you stepped back.

“Alright,” you said softly. “See ya later”

They watched you go.

Intak was the first to exhale, slow and shaky. “She‘s getting reckless.”

“Way too reckless,” Keeho replied, eyes still fixed on your back. His voice was calm, but there was something coiled underneath it. “And she knows it.”

Theo rubbed his face, ears still burning. “She teased all of us.”

Jiung’s jaw tightened. “She knew what it would do to us“

Soul tilted his head, gaze thoughtful but unmistakably focused. “She wanted a reaction.”

„Well she definitely got one,” Jongseob said quietly. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles pale.

Keeho finally looked away from you, eyes flicking to the others. There was no humor in his smile now. Just intent.

“She is mocking us”

Intak scoffed softly. “She really thinks she can walk away like that.”

Jiung crossed his arms, posture composed, expression anything but. “And we can’t even do anything about it.”

“No,” Keeho agreed. “At least not here.”

A beat passed. Then another.

Soul nodded once. “Later.”

Theo swallowed. „Later.”

Keeho’s smile returned, slower this time. “She thinks she’s in charge.”

Jongseob glanced back toward where you had vanished into the lights and noise of the party. “She does…and she enjoys it.”

Keeho hummed. “Then she will enjoy the consequences.”

They shared a look, silent and unanimous.

Across the room, you laughed again, unaware or pretending to be, sipping your drink like you were untouchable.

After the meeting, he caught up to you in the hallway, cheeks still faintly red. "You think it's funny?" he asked, trying for stern but failing spectacularly.

"Maybe," you teased, stepping a little closer. "You blush easy, Captain. It's kind of cute."

"Cute?" he repeated, nearly tripping over the word. "I don't... I'm not..."

You reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his collar, voice low. "You're adorable when you get all tongue-tied."

He froze. "You really shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?" you asked softly. "It's true."

His breath hitched, the sound caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "You do this on purpose, don't you?"

"Maybe," you said again, eyes dancing. "I like seeing you lose your composure a little."

He leaned in, close enough that his breath grazed your cheek. "One of these days," he murmured, voice deeper now, "you're gonna push too far."

Your smile widened. "Promise?"

That one word, that playful lilt, undid him completely. His composure shattered with a shaky laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

"God, you drive me crazy," he muttered.

You grinned, stepping back just enough to let him breathe, but not before whispering, "Good. That's exactly the point."

And as you walked away, you didn't need to turn around to know, John Walker was absolutely, unmistakably, blushing.

John hadn't stopped thinking about that hallway encounter. Not the teasing, not your voice, and definitely not the way you'd said Promise? like it was some secret meant just for him.

So when he saw you the next morning in the common kitchen, humming to yourself while making coffee, he nearly turned right back around.

Nearly.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "You, uh… always up this early?"

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling. "Only when I have someone to torment before breakfast."

He groaned quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You ever give anyone a break?"

"Not when they make it this easy." You slid a second mug toward him. "I made extra. Didn't think Captain Fluster would turn down caffeine."

John huffed a laugh despite himself. "That's not my name."

"Oh no? Because it suits you." You handed him the mug, your fingers brushing his just long enough to make his breath hitch.

"Don't do that," he muttered.

"Do what?" you asked innocently.

"That thing where you look at me like you're about to..." He stopped himself, realizing he had nowhere to go that didn't sound incriminating.

"Like I'm about to what?" you pressed, leaning just a little closer.

He shook his head, a small, helpless smile pulling at his lips. "You enjoy this way too much."

You shrugged. "Maybe I just like seeing you smile."

That caught him off guard. The teasing in your tone softened, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

"You… like making me smile?" he asked, almost shyly.

"Of course," you said, your voice gentle now. "You look good when you stop pretending you're made of steel."

John chuckled, low, nervous, and genuine. "You got me figured out, huh?"

"Not yet," you replied, taking a slow sip of your coffee. "But I'm having fun trying."

He stared at you for a second too long, the corner of his mouth curving in quiet surrender. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too."

It had been a few days since your morning coffee routine had turned into his favorite part of the day. John Walker wasn't exactly the flirty type, but something about you made him want to try.

So today, when he found you leaning over the mission board, lips pursed in concentration, he figured it was as good a time as any. He took a breath. Be casual, he told himself. Be smooth.

"You know," he began, resting one hand on the table, "you're making it hard for the rest of us to focus when you stand there like that."

You turned, raising an amused eyebrow. "Oh? So that's your strategy now?"

John froze. "What strategy?"

"Flirting." You grinned, stepping closer. "I think that was your first attempt, wasn't it?"

"I..." he stammered, already blushing. "I was just saying you… you look..."

"Like a distraction?" you offered helpfully.

"Yeah. Exactly." He sighed, realizing too late that he'd walked straight into your trap.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. "Points for effort, Captain. You almost sounded confident."

John narrowed his eyes playfully. "Almost? I'll have you know, I can be smooth."

"Oh, really?" you challenged, leaning in until your breath brushed his jaw. "Prove it."

His heartbeat jumped. "Right now?"

"Unless you need to rehearse first," you teased.

He looked flustered, and for a second, he almost managed to pull it off. He straightened, lowered his voice, and met your eyes with a smirk that could've melted steel. "You really shouldn't mess with a man who's finally learning your game," he said.

You blinked, caught off guard for the first time and then smiled. "Not bad, Captain. You're improving."

The confidence wavered as fast as it came, and he laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, I uh… ran out of lines after that."

You giggled, brushing his arm. "That's okay. You don't need lines. I already like the way you talk when you're flustered."

He groaned softly, a hand covering his face. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance," you whispered, leaning up on your toes to murmur near his ear. "It's my favorite part about you."

John's blush deepened instantly, but this time, he didn't look away. Instead, he smiled, warm, boyish, and genuine.

"Yeah?" he said quietly. "Then I guess I can live with that."

It became a running joke, John Walker, decorated soldier, fearless on the field… completely hopeless at flirting off it.

You'd catch him trying so hard to match your teasing energy, and every time, it went adorably sideways.

Like this morning.

You were sitting on the couch in the rec room, scrolling through mission notes, when John walked in with a confident swagger that lasted all of four seconds.

He leaned casually against the doorway. "So… you come here often?"

You didn't even look up. "John, this is literally our living room."

He winced. "Right. Yeah. I, uh… knew that."

You finally looked up, biting back a smile. "You're getting worse."

"I'm practicing," he protested, crossing his arms. "Gotta get better somehow."

"By hitting on me like a dad at a barbecue?"

He groaned. "That's mean."

You laughed, patting the seat beside you. "C'mere, Captain Smooth Talker. Sit down before you hurt yourself."

He sat, grumbling something under his breath, then glanced at you with a hopeful smile. "So… if I was flirting, hypothetically, how am I doing?"

You tilted your head. "You're charming. Accidentally."

"That's… not the worst feedback I've ever gotten," he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

You sipped your drink, eyes glinting. "You could try complimenting me. That's safe territory."

"Right," he said, perking up. "Compliments. Easy." He cleared his throat, turning to you. "You, uh… you smell nice."

You arched a brow. "What do I smell like?"

He froze. "Uh… soap. And… feelings?"

You blinked, then burst out laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink.

John groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I take it back. I'm never doing this again."

"Don't you dare," you said between giggles. "This is so much better than smooth flirting."

He peeked at you through his fingers. "Better? How is this better?"

You smiled, warmth softening the teasing. "Because it's you. Honest, awkward, and sweet. That's the part I like best."

That shut him up real fast. His cheeks flushed pink again, and his voice dropped into something quieter, gentler. "You're gonna make me forget how to talk again."

"Good," you teased, nudging him lightly. "Then I won't have to listen to any more of your pickup lines."

He laughed, shaking his head, but the smile that followed lingered longer than either of you expected.

John was convinced he'd finally cracked the code. All he had to do was not think so hard. Just say whatever came naturally. Easy, right?

You were at the training mats that afternoon, hair pulled back, focused on your drills. He'd been watching from the doorway longer than he'd admit, trying to time his entrance. Finally, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and walked over.

"Need a sparring partner?" he asked, trying for casual.

You looked up, smirking. "Depends. You planning to flirt or actually fight?"

He grinned. "Can't I do both?"

You laughed. "You can, but historically speaking, you're not great at multitasking."

He winced. "Fair. But I've been practicing."

"Oh yeah?" you teased. "What's the game plan this time?"

He opened his mouth to say something clever, but the words that came out weren't planned at all. "You make it real hard to focus when you look that happy."

Silence.

You blinked, the teasing fading into something softer. "Wait," you said quietly. "Did you just… call me happy?"

John's brain short-circuited. "I... what I meant was... you look good when you're..." He sighed, groaning. "I'm gonna stop talking now."

You smiled, a warm, almost shy kind of smile he hadn't seen before. "No, don't. That was sweet."

"It was an accident," he muttered, cheeks coloring fast.

"Still counts." You stepped a little closer, voice gentle. "You think I look good when I'm happy?"

He swallowed, eyes darting away. "…Yeah. You, uh… kinda light up the room."

That time, the words came softer, unplanned again, but true.

You tilted your head, touched by how earnest he looked. "See? You don't need to force it, John. You're a natural when you stop trying so hard."

He chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck. "Guess that's my secret weapon, accidental honesty."

"Works better than you think," you said, giving him a playful nudge. "Keep that up, and I might start believing you're smooth."

He smirked, the kind that almost hid his blush. "Careful. I might get confident."

"Good," you murmured. "I'd like to see that."

And for the first time, John Walker didn't look away. He just smiled, small, real, and a little bit dazzled.

It started happening subtly, a shift you couldn't quite name.

John wasn't stammering as much anymore. He wasn't turning pink every time you teased him. He'd still get that shy half-smile sometimes, but now there was something else behind it, a spark of quiet confidence.

And you noticed.

You were sitting in the lounge again, scrolling through a mission brief, when John appeared in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. That same stance you'd seen before, only this time, he didn't look nervous.

"You planning to hide in here all day?" he asked, voice light but steady.

You looked up, smirking. "Depends who's asking."

He grinned, walking closer. "Someone who knows you've been pretending to read the same page for five minutes."

Your jaw dropped. "You were watching me?"

"Maybe," he said simply. "You make concentrating kinda impossible."

You blinked. Wait, was he teasing you now?

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you… flirting with me, Captain Walker?"

"Trying to," he said, sitting beside you. "Figured I should at least return the favor after all the times you've made me forget how to breathe."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Pretty good so far," he said easily. "You're laughing. That's a win."

"Mm," you hummed, pretending to read your tablet again just to hide the smile tugging at your lips. But then, he leaned in. Close enough for his shoulder to brush yours.

"Y'know," he murmured, "you do that thing when you're flustered. Try to look busy."

Your fingers stilled on the screen. "…I do not."

He chuckled softly, his voice low near your ear. "You're doing it right now."

You looked up, and sure enough, that smug, boyish smile was waiting for you.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you said, shaking your head.

"Little bit," he admitted. "Feels nice being the one making you blush for a change."

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Blush? Please. I don't..."

"Yeah, you do," he interrupted, grinning wider. "Right here."

He gently brushed his thumb against the edge of your cheekbone, so casual and soft it made your heart skip. His hand lingered for just a moment too long, and that was it. You were the one looking away now.

John chuckled quietly. "Guess I'm not the only one who gets flustered anymore."

You laughed under your breath, shaking your head. "You're dangerous when you get confident."

He leaned back with that same easy grin. "Guess I finally learned from the best."

The shift had been coming for weeks now, slow, steady, and so gentle you almost didn't notice it.

Until tonight.

The compound was quiet after hours. Most of the team had gone out, leaving only the faint hum of the lights and the rhythmic click of rain against the windows.

You were curled up on the couch with a blanket and a half-finished cup of tea when John walked in.

He hesitated for a second in the doorway, like always, before crossing the room and sitting beside you.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," you replied, setting your mug down. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head, resting his arms on his knees. "Nah. Just… felt weird sitting in my room doing nothing." He paused, then added with a tiny grin, "Plus, I was hoping I'd find you here."

You smiled, tucking your legs under you. "You getting bold, Captain?"

"Trying," he said with a nervous laugh. "Not sure if it's working."

"It's working," you teased. "You're actually kinda charming when you're not tripping over your words."

He chuckled, looking down. "Guess I just stopped fighting it. Every time I tried to sound smooth, I'd end up saying something stupid anyway."

"That's part of your charm," you said quietly.

He looked up at you then, really looked. There was something in his eyes that made the air shift, heavier and softer all at once.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded.

"All that flirting…" He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "It started 'cause I didn't know what else to do with myself around you. You'd look at me and I'd just... forget everything I was supposed to say."

You smiled faintly. "That's kind of adorable."

"Yeah, well…" He let out a soft laugh. "Then it stopped being about getting flustered and started being about… getting to know you. Having a reason to talk to you. Even if I sounded like an idiot half the time."

Your chest tightened, that kind of warmth that sneaks up on you when something finally clicks.

"John…" you started, but he wasn't finished.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," he continued quietly, "somewhere between all the bad pickup lines and you making fun of me, I fell for you."

Silence stretched between you, not awkward, but charged. Tender.

Then you smiled, that slow, disbelieving smile that makes your eyes shine. "You really just confessed like that, huh?"

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Yeah, okay, not my smoothest..."

You reached out, gently pulling his hands down. "No," you said softly. "It was perfect."

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just the rain outside, the soft light, and the warmth of his fingers brushing yours.

Then you leaned in, close enough that your forehead almost touched his.

"You know," you whispered, "I might've fallen for you somewhere between all those bad pickup lines, too."

John froze, then smiled, that same shy, disbelieving grin that first made you want to tease him in the first place.

"Guess we're both a little hopeless, huh?" he murmured.

"Hopeless," you agreed, "and perfect for each other."

He laughed quietly, and in that moment, it wasn't teasing anymore, it was easy, real, and full of something that had been there all along.

John Walker had faced entire squads of mercenaries without flinching. He'd jumped out of helicopters, led missions through chaos, stood in front of cameras with the whole world watching him.

None of it compared to how nervous he felt standing outside your door holding two takeout bags and a bouquet of daisies that were slightly wilted from the wind.

He knocked once, then twice, then realized his hand was shaking and shoved it in his pocket before he could psych himself out.

When you opened the door, his carefully rehearsed "Hey" came out more like a squeak.

You blinked, then smiled. "Hi there, Captain."

He held up the bags like a peace offering. "I, uh… brought food. Thought maybe we could do a real date. You know, without the teasing. Or with the teasing. I'm flexible."

You leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused. "Flowers and food? Someone's trying to impress me."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I figured I owed you something that didn't involve me forgetting how to talk."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," you teased, stepping aside to let him in.

He laughed, setting the bags on the table. "Okay, fair. But I did get your favorite..."

You peeked into the bag, gasping softly. "You remembered?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, shy again. "Yeah. You ordered it once after a mission and said it was your 'comfort food.' I, uh… kinda took notes."

Your smile softened. "You take notes?"

"Only when it's important," he said, voice warm.

Dinner went perfectly wrong in all the best ways, the chopsticks broke, he spilled his drink, you laughed so hard you had to lean on his shoulder to breathe. And through it all, John looked at you like he couldn't believe you were real.

Later, as you sat together on the couch surrounded by empty containers and laughter still hanging in the air, he turned to you and said, "You know… I used to think you made me nervous 'cause you liked to mess with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And now?"

"Now I know it's because I actually care what you think," he admitted quietly. "You could make fun of me all night, and I'd still think you're the best part of my day."

You went still, that soft, warm silence settling again.

Then, smiling, you said, "You realize that was actually smooth, right?"

His eyes widened. "Wait... did I just...?"

"Yeah," you laughed. "You flirted perfectly. No stammering, no panic. I think you nailed it."

He looked relieved, then grinned that boyish grin that still made your stomach flip. "Guess I finally learned something after all."

You leaned in, brushing your hand against his cheek. "Took you long enough."

He chuckled, his voice low and happy. "Yeah, but you were worth the practice."

And when you kissed him, soft, laughing, and full of everything the teasing had led to, it wasn't an accident or a flustered slip.

It was real. Earnest. Exactly how it was always meant to be.

It had been three months since that first "official" date, three months of shared breakfasts, stolen kisses between missions, and John Walker pretending he didn't melt every time you smiled at him.

You two had settled into something easy. Comfortable. Almost domestic.

Almost, because you never stopped teasing him.

The team lounge was buzzing one lazy afternoon. Yelena was flipping channels, Bucky was scrolling on his tablet, and John was sitting beside you on the couch, arm draped over the backrest.

You leaned in close, pretending to look at his phone, but mostly to whisper something only he could hear.

"You know, Captain," you murmured, your voice just low enough to make his ears turn pink, "you look good when you're all serious like that."

John froze. The phone slipped from his hand, landing face-down on his lap.

Bucky looked over with a raised brow. "Everything okay over there, Walker?"

"Yeah!" John said way too quickly. "Totally fine."

Yelena smirked. "Uh-huh. You sure? You look like someone just short-circuited your brain."

You giggled quietly, trying and failing, to hide your grin behind your mug. John shot you a look that was equal parts I love you and you're impossible.

Once the teasing from the guys died down, he leaned in closer, muttering under his breath, "You're lucky they like you."

"Oh?" you teased, eyes glinting. "And what would you do if they didn't?"

He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "I'd probably still let you get away with it."

You smiled sweetly. "That's because you adore me."

He grinned, that soft, crooked grin that still made your heart skip. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Guess I do."

You felt warmth bloom in your chest, and for a moment, the world around you faded, just his arm around your shoulders, his voice low and sincere, his blush returning right on cue when you kissed his cheek in front of everyone.

Yelena groaned. "You two are ridiculous."

John only laughed, cheeks pink and eyes shining as he pulled you a little closer.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, "but she's my kind of ridiculous."

You smiled against his shoulder, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "And you're still my favorite flustered Captain."

His quiet laugh was the kind that came from deep down, the sound of someone happy, content, and home.

It was delicate. Soft black lace. Thin straps that curved across your chest in ways that were definitely not for sleeping, with a matching barely-there thong and a satin robe that didn’t do a damn thing to hide it. Not that you wanted to.

You took one last breath in the mirror.

Showtime.

You stepped out of the closet on bare feet, the dim light catching the sheer details of your new look. You didn’t say a word—just walked to your side of the bed like it was a regular night, climbed in with a quiet rustle of fabric, turned off your lamp…

…and settled under the blanket.

Bucky blinked.

Sat up.

Turned.

“What the hell?” he muttered, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes adjusted to what he just thought he saw.

You reached for your phone. “Hmm?”

He sat up straighter. “What are you wearing?”

“Sleep clothes,” you replied innocently, keeping your eyes on the screen and your expression neutral.

“That’s not sleep clothes, sweetheart. That’s—I mean—are you—what the hell is that?” he sputtered, eyes wide as he yanked the blanket back to get a better look. “That’s lingerie.”

“Is it?” you blinked, glancing down like you were just noticing. “Weird.”

“Weird? Weird?” he repeated, his voice climbing. “You came outta the closet in that and just—got in bed?”

You bit back a smile. “I was tired.”

Bucky looked absolutely scandalized. Like you’d slapped him in the face with a lace glove and walked away.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight. You put on the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you in, you knew I was in bed waiting for you, and then you just… got under the covers like it’s a Tuesday in sweatpants?”

You finally turned to him with a lazy smile. “Night, Buck.”

His mouth opened and closed, utterly speechless.

And then—“Absolutely not.”

You laughed.

“I’m serious,” he said, eyes narrowing as he tossed the covers off and leaned toward you. “Absolutely. Not.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” you teased, still half-smiling, phone slipping from your hand onto the nightstand.

“I don’t know,” he said, crawling closer, metal hand pressing to the mattress beside your hip. “Maybe remind you that teasing has consequences.”

“Teasing?” you echoed, feigning innocence. “I just got dressed.”

“You don’t sleep in that, and you know it.”

You made a little sound of mock surprise. “Wow. Judgmental.”

Bucky glared. “Don’t play with me, sweetheart. You’ve got me over here contemplating marriage just from one look at you.”

You raised a brow. “Just one?”

His eyes dropped to the neckline of your lingerie again, then lower. “Okay, several looks.”

“Maybe I just wanted to feel pretty.”

“You do,” he said instantly, without hesitation. “You always do. But this? This is unfair. This is like… psychological warfare.”

You giggled, brushing your hand over his chest. “You really like it?”

“Are you kidding? You could rob me blind right now and I’d help you carry the bags.”

You laughed so hard your head tipped back—and Bucky used that moment to pounce.

He rolled on top of you, pinning your hands above your head with a grin. “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to go to bed,” you whispered, eyes wide and teasing.

He kissed your throat. “Too late.”

“I’m tired,” you murmured, wiggling under him like you weren’t clearly turned on.

Bucky kissed lower, to the swell of your chest. “Poor thing. I’ll tuck you in after.”

You snorted. “Generous.”

His fingers brushed the side of your thigh, teasing just beneath the hem of the lace. “You know, I had every intention of being a gentleman tonight.”

“You always do.”

“Then you came out looking like a walking sin, and now I’m about to ruin the whole night’s sleep.”

You hummed, arching slightly under his weight. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“I’m not threatening. I’m promising.”

His voice dropped an octave, and you felt it in your stomach, your legs, your fingertips.

He kissed you deep and slow—nothing rushed now, not with the power shift returned. His hands traced your body like it was the first time, fingertips brushing the edges of lace like reverent exploration. You knew he loved you in this—his whole body said it. But what made your heart race wasn’t just lust—it was the way he looked at you like you were his whole world.

You gasped softly as he mouthed along your jaw.

“Still tired?” he whispered.

“Not anymore.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He kissed your collarbone, then the slope of your shoulder, then sat back just enough to take you in again. “Gonna need you to walk around in this all the time now.”

You gave him a pointed look. “You’d never get anything done.”

He shrugged. “Worth it.”

You grinned. “Maybe I’ll wear it again tomorrow.”

He groaned. “Sweetheart…”

“Unless you wreck it tonight.”

“I might.”

“Then maybe I should’ve just stuck to my sweatpants,” you teased.

Bucky grabbed the pillow from beside you and tossed it at the headboard like it offended him. “Don’t even say that word. I’m still recovering from the emotional whiplash of seeing you in that and thinking you were gonna sleep through it.”

You giggled again, your laughter half-muffled when his mouth found yours.

It was a kiss that meant more than just heat. It was claiming, it was devotion, it was a silent promise that even your little games would always end with him adoring you.

Even if you did drive him crazy.

Even if you did climb into bed like you weren’t the most dangerous thing he’d ever seen.

And especially when you whispered, right at his ear—

“You gonna show me how much you like it, Sergeant?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

The look on his face said it all.

Absolutely not was right.