Latest Posts by nandanandada - Page 2

THIS IS SO SWEET😭😭😭😭😭💓

Best Laid Plans

Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

When your plans for the town's Easter egg hunt go awry, you find help from an unlikely source...

This is for the lovely's @buck-star 's Easter Special ! Felt very inspired so started this earlier this afternoon and it just flowed! Way longer than planned lol sorry.

Character: Lee Bodecker

Trope: 🌷 Enemies to lovers

Prompt: 🐰 Easter egg hunt

Wordcount: Approx. 3.9k

No major warnings. I have also been deliberate vague about when this is set - so it's up to you! Hope you enjoy - as always I love hearing your thoughts ❤️

🐰

A satisfied grin spread across your face as you arranged the model chicks and bunnies, a sea of pastels brightening up the tired storefronts amongst the floral arrangements you’d already hung. Perfect. You smoothed down your polka dot sundress as you took in the scene. Just beyond the storefronts were the stalls for the fair later, selling everything from lemonade to chocolate, handmade crafts and freshly baked goods. A few of the vendors had started to set up, but there was still a nice amount of time before people would start to arrive. You’d given yourself a wide margin to prepare everything, hopefully you’ll have a little downtime to relax before the festivities began.

Your vision was finally all coming together. It was touch and go there for a while, especially with the well-meaning-but-pretty-useless Jake as your helper, but it was actually starting to pay off. It actually looked…good! Especially for a smalltown fair. You couldn’t wait to see the kids’ faces when they arrived later.

“Looks like the Easter bunny threw up out here,” someone chuckled from behind you.

Your smile dropped as you turned to face the culprit. But you already knew who that smooth voice belonged to.

Ugh. There he was. Again.

His uniform looked surprisingly crisp for him, stretched over his broad shoulders. He must’ve finally given the iron a try. Or maybe he’d convinced old Mrs O’Malley to help out a busy bachelor. You could still spy the curve of his stomach peeking out over his waistband from under the starchy white shirt. Not that it mattered, you normally liked a hefty man.

Just not this hefty man.

He stood there confidently surveying your handiwork, like a judge at a dog show. His sheriff badge caught a flicker of morning sunlight as his mouth pulled into a pensive sneer. He was normally quite handsome, not that you’d ever admit that. He had a gorgeous smile on the rare occasions you saw it, almost boyish in contrast to the severity of his short hair and tense jaw.

“Very funny, Sheriff Bodecker,” you replied in a deadpan tone. “Come up with that one all by yourself?”

He leaned on the roadblock barrier and chuckled. “Yeah. Spent all morning workin’ on it,” he grinned devilishly as he manoeuvred the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, his eyes alight with mischief. Lee Bodecker had the most beautiful blue eyes, you’d noticed…

…Shame the man they belonged to was utterly insufferable.

“Glad my tax dollars are going to good use…” you sighed as you moved to collect the baskets for the egg hunt.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ free labour from my men and a whole street closed off for your little Easter party here, maybe save me the sass,” he scoffed. You didn’t like the patronising hand gesture he used to emphasis ‘little’.

You sighed incredulously, continuing to arrange the baskets, “it’s not my Easter party. And it’s a fair by the way. And it’s for the whole town. It’s about community, being together – whether you celebrate Easter or not. A little morale goes a long way…”

He rolled his eyes “Mm. Well the residents who lost their parking spaces to the roadblock this morning certainly didn’t have much morale when they came to bitch at the station about it…”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned to him again, one hand on your hip and the other clasping one of the little yellow baskets which you pointed at him accusatorily. You knew exactly who he was referring to. That same vocal minority had also come to PTA meetings, written angry letters to the school – and once even ambushed you at the market. They seemed unmoved that it was a joint effort from the school and the church to do something nice for the town. The way they reacted, anyone might think you were responsible for evicting them from their houses, not using their preferred parking spaces for a few hours. You’d already repeated the same arguments so many times that you could probably recite them in your sleep. You were simply sick of talking about it, which you quickly made clear to Lee.

“Listen here, Sheriff. I’m going to tell you what I told all of them. It’s one day. One. We gave them plenty of notice about it, explaining it was so the kids could do the Easter egg hunt without the fear of getting mowed down, and folks can set up their market stalls with plenty of space. God forbid they park in that lot a few streets over and walk the short distance to main street – they can all fit in there, we’re not exactly New York City levels of population here in Meade…And most of them walk to town anyway!! Besides, the district owns those spaces, not them – just because they park in them most days when they come to shoot the shit at the barbers doesn’t mean they’re theirs.”

A little sharper than you had anticipated, but it did the job. You exhaled, trying to calm yourself down as you felt yourself get riled up.

Lee smirked, cocking his head to the side as he studied you. “Wow. Is that how you talk to your students when they act up? Or is it just me that the local schoolteacher likes to put in his place?” his voice was low, almost a purr.

You didn’t like the strange flush that he somehow brought to your cheeks. You briefly felt off balance. You needed to shake that off.

“My students know how to behave,” you quipped. And just like that, the flush had gone. The familiar irritation had taken its place.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, a strange buzz between you that you couldn’t quite identify. You felt that with him sometimes. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was just anger.

His eyes were on you so intensely it seemed like they could tear a hole in your skin.

Then he just laughed. The irritation burned through you, down to your bones.

“Why are you even here? The roadblock is up, nothing starts officially for another couple of hours…” you shrugged. “Surely the Sheriff has better things to be doing than supervising me putting up toy bunnies…” you muttered.

“Wow…so much for community and morale,” he replied in a mock-outraged tone.

You didn’t know why you let him get to you so much. You didn’t know why he did get to you so much. It had always been this way with him, nothing but a sliding scale from feisty jibes to outright loathing.

You weren’t like this with anyone else. You were a schoolteacher, priding yourself on being approachable and kind – a figure in the community who was happy to be a listening ear, who took her responsibility for the town’s children and their education very seriously. You were heavily involved in the church, in the PTA, volunteered at the old folks’ home when you had time. This strange feud with the Sheriff was the one misshapen puzzle piece that didn’t fit with the rest of the picture. A fault by the manufacturer.

And it had been like this since day one, since you moved to town just over a year ago. You had been keen to meet the local Sheriff, hoping to ingratiate yourself with him and work together to benefit the community – but he’d shut you down almost immediately when you’d introduced yourself at a town meeting. He’d lazily looked you up and down in a way that could only be described as with contempt. Your smiled had faded as he introduced himself with disinterest, moving back to talk to his deputies like you were some chore he couldn’t wait to finish. You had no idea what you’d done wrong.

Since then, you had just never met eye to eye. Never been on the same wavelength. He just had a way of getting under your skin, of draining your patience in a way that even a rowdy group of six-year-olds couldn’t pull off. Although you generally aimed to always be the bigger person in life and rise above petty things, Sheriff Bodecker seemed to be the exception to that philosophy. Maybe his dismissal of you before he’d even properly spoken to you was what provoked such strong feeling, but you couldn’t explain the inevitable descent every time you met him.

You bickered every time you crossed paths. Arguing in line at the market, squabbling in the street, once there had even been (hushed) strong words at the back of church during a service.

You’d turned up to the station one afternoon to meet with Deputy Carter about arranging a school safety talk and the officers on the front desk had audibly sighed knowing what was going to happen. The whole town was aware of this rivalry, and just sort of took for granted that this was just how things were with the Sheriff and that schoolteacher.

…and yes. The officers were right. You and the Sheriff had managed to get each other’s backs up after a mere few minutes because you had laughed a little too loudly when his hat briefly slipped off his head. Business as usual.

You couldn’t really admit it to yourself. But maybe you also kinda enjoyed it. Just a tiny bit. Sometimes.

“Oh whatever…” you hissed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You didn’t have time for this, you can’t let Lee distract you when you have so much still to do. “Go. Stay. I don’t care either way. I need to hide the eggs and-”

You froze as you tugged at the trash bag containing the coloured eggs that you were going to hide for the hunt. It didn’t feel…right. The weight was off. It didn’t sit like a bag of small toy eggs.

You untied the bag and gasped when the contents were revealed.

Not eggs.

Not even close.

…a bag of trash.

You let out a pained moan as you fell to your knees, rifling through the bag in the weak hope that the eggs were at the bottom, and someone had put trash in the wrong bag by mistake. But no. Not a one there.

How could this-

And then it all fell into place at once. Jake, the enthusiastic but somewhat hapless school coach who had offered to help with the planning. Yesterday, after school you’d given him the eggs as you bagged up the classroom waste bin…he then offered to take it out for you as he was parked near the dumpster…so he must’ve mixed up…

Oh.

Oh God.

…And trash pick-up had been early this morning.

Those eggs were long gone.

Even if by some miracle you managed to somehow track them down, they’d most likely be crushed by the truck anyway – or all mixed in with the town’s other garbage. Covered in God knows what.

You stomach churned. You thought about the kids in your class, how excited they were about the hunt. They’d all been talking about it for weeks, all claiming they were going to win and find the most eggs – win the ‘mystery prize’ that the flyer tantalisingly offered (a brand-new bike, sponsored by one of the richer families in Brewer Heights. You had been so proud to source that).

How could you let them all down? See the disappointment on their little faces when they realised?

You couldn’t.

So, you switched into problem solving mode. As satisfying as it would be to tear Jake a new one for his mistake, that wouldn’t help the kids. Where could you get more eggs? You had already bought out almost the entire supply locally to ensure as many kids as possible could participate. You could drive to another town, but would you make it back in time? What if they were sold out too? This close to Easter…how many eggs were going to be left in stores exactly? Would they even be open? A lot of places had already closed up to spend time with their families. It was that way around these parts, these were mom and pop operations - not national chain stores. You could call ahead but-

“Well. That’s gonna be a weird egg hunt,” Lee interrupted your internal monologue as he toed at the now ripped open bag of trash. “I know the school budget has been cut, but damn…”

You closed your eyes. You’d been so caught up that you’d almost forgotten he was still here. “Just…not now, please,” you snap without looking up.

“Didn’t need to close the street just for you to hide garbage. Ain’t that just littering…?” he chuckles.

You look up at him, tears of frustration swimming in your eyes. “Coach Jensen must’ve switched the bags by accident,” you say softly.

Lee furrows his brows, his ever-present smirk shrinking as he takes you in. Maybe for the first time ever. His features soften as he starts to absorb that look on your face. The look that tells him this is serious. “That guy’s an ass…” he replies, his voice low.

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered. “God…The kids are so excited…”

“You can’t just call it off?”

“No!” you said incredulously. “This is all they’ve been talking about in class, all through school! I can’t just cancel it. I just need to figure out how to find more eggs before the hunt. There’s none left in our store but maybe I could drive to the next town over…”

He put his hands on his hips, his stance authoritative like he was doing a traffic stop, or talking to a perp. He checks his watch. “At this hour? You won’t make it back in time…”

“Thanks for your help Sheriff, as always,” you snarl.

He sighed defeatedly. “Could you just…hide something else for them to hunt? Matchsticks or something? I dunno…”

“It’s Easter! They were promised eggs!” you huff, “what kind of easter egg hunt would that be?”

You are unable to stop the few tears that break through the barrier and onto your cheek. You’re just so frustrated, so tired after staying up late to prepare all of this. And all your hard work is coming unravelled because of a few lousy eggs and a feckless man who doesn’t check garbage bags.

God, what a mess. Why do you even care so much? This is silly. Mistakes happen. The town will understand.

Right?

“Hey, hey,” Lee coos gently and takes a step closer to you, “don’t get upset…it’s just eggs…” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, it barely sounds like him at all.

You feel a wave of shame, mortification that he is bearing witness to this. The unfamiliarity of his tone is so unexpected, so jarring, that it adds to your embarrassment rather than soothes it. Why did he have to be here? Why him of all people? And what, he pities you now? More ammunition for his side in your little war – the silly, emotional teacher who cries over easter eggs. A chink in your armour, vulnerability for him to mock and dine out on for years to come…as if he didn’t already think you were a fool…

“It’s not just eggs,” you reply dully. Your eyes lock onto his. He simply doesn’t understand how important this is. How many children are counting on you. He doesn’t understand anything about you.

You turn away from him, taking a deep breath as you quickly wipe away your tears with your knuckles. You won’t let him have any more of you than you’ve already given. You shakily get to your feet.

“I’m gonna go around to a few parents’ houses and see what I can find,” you say out loud, more for you than for him. To anchor you, make you feel like you have a plan – however weak. “I should be able to rustle up some from their Easter decorations at least. I’ll be back to finish setting up”.

Lee stares at you. It seems like he has more to say, but he remains quiet. He clears his throat, nods. “Uh. Alright. Well, I’m going to go back to the station. Check on a few things. Good luck…with the eggs…it’ll work out.”

You nod, but don’t turn around as you leave him behind. You don’t believe him.

🐇.•*¨`*•.¸ 🐇.•*¨`*•. 🐇¸.•*¨`*•. 🐇

A little while later you make your way back to the fair. You feel so downtrodden that there could almost be rocks in your pockets, every movement takes effort and energy you no longer possess. You dread every step closer as you trudge heavily across town.

Despite a committed campaign, working your way across several neighbourhoods, you were only able to source a pathetic few eggs. Nowhere near enough to sustain a full-on egg hunt for all of the town’s children. Maybe even neighbouring towns if word got out. You check your watch; and you’re running late, too. You were going to have to explain to dozens of disappointed kids (and their angry parents) why their most anticipated Easter activity wasn’t happening. You practiced your speech in your head as you walked.

As you rounded the corner to the roadblock, you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the worst. Your stomach swam with nausea, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You should’ve called Jake and made him do this. It was his fault after all.

You brace yourself for the crowd of confused children, when…

You can’t quite believe your eyes.

The kids are here, yes. But they’re running around, yellow baskets in their little hands as they shriek and holler, darting underneath doorsteps and plant pots to hunt. A small pile of coloured eggs sits in each of their baskets. Every single one of them is having a blast. Their parents watch on proudly, sharing their joy.

Are you going insane?

Some of them notice you and wave excitedly, calling your name and shouting over to you about how much fun it is. Their parents echo similar sentiments, and you just wave back gormlessly, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Is this some sort of hallucination?

“Phew. Told ya it would work out.”

You turn to the figure who has sidled up next to you, your eyes wide with surprise as Lee watches the joyful chaos unfold in front of you both.

“How…what…” you splutter.

“I remembered we did a similar thing a few years back,” he says casually without taking his eyes off the fun. “It was a police fundraiser around Easter time. One of my dim-witted deputies thought he ordered 100 eggs…turns out he ordered 100 cases…”

Your mouth falls agape as realisation slowly dawns.

“Shoved ‘em in the old outbuilding and forgot we had ‘em if I’m honest, ‘til this morning. Never thought we’d use them all, but here we are”. He laughs and rests his hands on his belt buckle.

“You…you did this?” you whisper, your throat tight with shock.

He shrugs, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Sure. Rounded up a bunch of the boys and we got ‘em all out. Not the most creative hiding places, you probably woulda done better – but the kiddos don’t seem to mind. Some of them are a bit dusty from storage – but again, kids are paying that no mind. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell no one. So, you’ll still get all the credit, you deserve it anyway – you put all the work in”.

Your eyes round as you stare at him. He stands there nonchalantly, like he didn’t just save the day. Didn’t just save you.

“You did that…for me?” you ask, bewildered.

“Sure. You needed help. That prick Jensen wasn’t gonna fix it, was he?”

“B..but. You don’t even like me?” you stammer weakly. Your brain simply can’t absorb any of this.

He finally turns, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. His blue eyes squint as his lip curls. “What? ‘Course I like ya”.

You feel like you’re going insane. “What?? We fight, all the time! You are always jabbing at me, making fun of me, riling me up…”

His face mirrors your own puzzlement but for a different reason, “yeah, but it’s just fun, isn’t it? Banter. I love fighting with you. It’s always a highlight of my day. You’re so…fun. Feisty. I love it. I never actually meant any harm…”

If you’d been sitting on a chair at that moment, you would’ve fallen out of it.

“WHAT?” you roar so loudly that some people turn around. You hush yourself immediately, trying to avoid a scene. “You were SO RUDE, the first time we met…it’s been hell ever since…”

He finally has the decency to look embarrassed as his eyes drop to the ground. “Oh, right. That. Yeah. That was shitty. I should’ve apologised…you just caught me off guard…”

“What do you mean?! All I did was say hello?” you sneer through gritted teeth.

“Yeah…and be gorgeous. Nobody told me the new teacher was a goddamn beauty. I panicked, couldn’t form words. You made me feel like a damn teenager with how nervous you made me”.

You just stare at him as you try and process what he’d just said, your mother would say you could catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that.

“Wait…You were rude because…you thought I was pretty?”

“Damn beautiful, actually. And I didn’t mean to be rude. Really. My brain just damn near stopped working”, he says bashfully.

“So, wait, this whole time you…”

You trail off as you suddenly reframe every interaction with him in your memory in a matter of seconds. The strange, unidentifiable buzz you felt with him sometimes. The way he got to you like nobody else. His smile widening every time he saw you, which you’d always assumed was just him getting ready to rile you up. How he would always gravitate to you if you were in the same place. The way he seemed to take so much pleasure in making fun of you, of talking with you…

…being with you?

“I should’ve just not been a coward and spoken to you properly, I’m sorry,” he sighs as he looks down at his feet. His voice more passive than you’d ever heard it. “Ask you on a date. Treat you nice, court you a little. I guess I never thought a pretty girl like you would go for a schlub like me, and I always had your attention when we argued – so why risk it?”

You look over at the giggling kids, the proud parents, the townspeople enjoying the stalls, sipping lemonade and laughing. You look back at him. You think of him hauling those old boxes from the station, getting his staff to help. Trying to find good hiding places for the eggs, wiping the dust from them. Greeting the kids and their parents as they arrived, giving them the little baskets. Doing it all for you without being asked, doing it for you because he wanted to.

Maybe he understood more about you than you realised.

He cautiously stands in front of you, you look deep into his cerulean eyes and before you know it, you’re kissing him. He wobbles slightly in surprise but corrects himself and finds his feet, kissing you back, his arms around your waist like they’d always been there. The rest of the world melts away and suddenly everything feels right. You don’t care that they can all see. You don’t care about anything else.

You break away and rest your forehead on his. You both laugh at the hooting and hollering from behind you, the cries of ‘about time!’ from his deputies. Apparently everyone could see it but you.

“Don’t I get a thank you? For fixing it?” he grins.

“Why? It’s just eggs,” you beam.

“…it’s not just eggs,” he chuckled as he moves to kiss you again.

THE END

Frostbites

Summary : Bucky found you injured in the middle of a snowstorm.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x hero!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Mention of a dead body (neither yours nor bucky) hurt/comfort (?), Fluff! Lots of angst!!! Injury. The ending is open to interpretation.

Word Count : 1.9k

Notes : Hi all! It's moving day for me a this is a queued post. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes hated the cold.

It crawled into his skin, crept into his bones—even in the nonexistent metal one—and wrapped around his lungs like a chokehold. It reminded him too much of long Russian winters, of blood stains in the snow.

But he was out here anyway.

Because you hadn’t come back.

Your comms had gone silent almost two hours ago, right after you reported heading up the north ridge. The snow started coming down harder, so they said it was probably a dropped signal. They said that you'd hole up and wait it out.

But Bucky knew you. You wouldn’t just go dark.

Not unless something was wrong.

So here he was, face numb, human hand freezing through his gloves, trudging through knee-deep snow with nothing but a flashlight and sheer willpower.

He shouted your name into the wind, but got no response.

The woods swallowed his voice, muffling it like the storm wanted to bury everything— including you.

He finally found you by the edge of a ravine, half-covered in snow, lying awkwardly against a fallen log. Your leg was twisted beneath you, and your lips were trembling. There was a body of a man next to you— probably your attacker. If you didn’t kill him yourself, the cold definitely did.

“Bucky?” you whispered when he dropped to his knees beside you.

His breath caught and said your name again, as if he couldn’t believe you were real, yet eternally grateful you were alive.

You tried to sit up, but winced. Your right ankle was broken. “I—I— this guy came out of nowhere. Comms went out. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he said, already shrugging out of his jacket. “You're freezing.”

He wrapped it around you, his hands rough but gentle. The cold bit into his skin faster than before, but it didn’t matter. Not when you looked like that— fingers trembling, fear in your eyes.

“I’m so stupid,” you said through your chattering teeth.

“No. You’re not.” He pulled you close, bracing your body against his chest. “You’re hurt. Big difference.”

“But you came out here. I thought—” You looked up at him, eyes glossy. “You hate the cold.”

He laughed, “Yeah. I do.”

“Then why—”

“Because it’s you.”

He tightened his hold on you, ignoring the sting in his fingesr. “Because if it were me out here, you’d come for me.”

You buried your face against his neck. He shifted so your weight rested against his chest and activated the beacon on his wrist, signaling HQ. 

He didn’t get an answer.

“I got you,” he muttered into your hair anyway. “I’ve always got you.”

You were shaking so hard, your teeth wouldn’t stop clacking. Bucky pressed the beacon on his wrist again and cursed under his breath.

Nothing. No signal.

Of course. Mountains. Snowstorm. 

Probably the same things that took away your comms. 

The universe just loved giving him a hard time.

He looked down at you, curled into his arms like a dying ember, and felt a bolt of fear slice through him. Your eyes were barely open now, and your skin was a different terrifying shade than it usually was.

“Okay, okay. Change of plans,” he said, more to himself than you. “Can’t freeze out here. Gotta find shelter.”

You made a half-groan, half-protest as he adjusted his grip.

“I know. I know it hurts,” he whispered, lifting you into his arms carefully, trying not to jostle your ankle. “But if we stay here, you’re going to turn into an icicle. And I like you warm and complaining.”

“Not… complai…ning,” you smacked his back, head lolling against his shoulder.

“You will be once you warm up,” he said with a sad smile, starting the trek up the ridge.

It took twenty agonizing minutes before he spotted the dark mouth of a cave up ahead. It wasn’t much— but it’d hopefully block the wind. 

“Alright. Temporary five-star suite,” he said as he stumbled into the cave and placed you to the ground gently. “Complimentary frostbite. No room service. May or may not be home to a bear.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Don’t joke about bears…”

“If one shows up, I’ll punch it in the face.” He reassured.

He ripped off his gloves and set to work immediately—gathering dry twigs from under the overhang, shredding cloth for kindling, using the flint he kept in his belt pouch. The fire took forever to catch, and once it did, it wasn’t nearly as big as he wanted it to be— there wasn’t enough oxygen for it to feed, which probably meant there wasn’t enough oxygen for you, either. 

Bucky shed the rest of the clothing he didn't need and wrapped you in everything he could. Then, without asking, he settled down behind you, pulling you against his chest, and wrapping his arms around you like a blanket.

But then… Bucky felt your shivering slow.

That was bad.

Shivering meant your body was still fighting. But now you were just…  heavy in his arms. Your breath came in weird, shallow bursts.

He pulled back to look at you and called out your name once again.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glossy. But you smiled.

“Oh, hey,” you slurred. “When did you get here?”

He blinked. “I’ve been here for forty minutes.”

“Nooo,” you whispered, waving a limp hand at him. “You’re too pretty to be real. You’re, like, a hallucination.”

He made a choking sound. “No. No, no.” Your cognitive function was slipping. A sign of hypothermia.

You laughed—or, at least you tried to, but it just came out as a wheeze.

“Sorry. That was dumb. I’m cold.”

“I know,” he said, already piling more of his clothing onto you, pressing his chest to your back, trying to transfer his body heat as he pushed you closer to the barely-there flame. “Just hang on. Come closer to the fire. You’re gonna be okay.”

You squinted at the fire. “That’s a baby fire. Tiny lil’… lil’ guy. He’s doing his best.”

Bucky chuckled sadly. “He’s gonna save your life if he gets big enough.”

You blinked again. You didn’t feel your toes. Or your fingers. “P-pretty,” you mumbled.

Bucky froze.

“…What?”

You smiled faintly. “You’ve got really pretty eyes.”

His hand hovered near your cheek, not touching, as your eyelids struggled to keep themselves open. “Hey—”

“Mmmm… My brain feels like mashed potatoes.” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bucky said instantly, cradling your face in his hands, tilting it up toward him. “Eyes on me, c’mon.”

You blinked up at him, slowly. Your pupils were blown, unfocused. “You’ve got nice hair.”

Bucky froze for a second. “Huh?”

“You’re always tying it up and stuff, but when it’s messy it looks nice,” you mumbled, your voice thick, like you were drunk on cold. “Like… like a sad prince or sum’thin’.”

“Oh shit,” Bucky whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “Okay. You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Not always,” you whispered. “Sometimes I think real good.”

“Hey—”

“Once I watched you fix a sink with a spoon and I fell in love with you right then.”

He let out a choked laugh that was half sob, half terror. You were slipping from his grasp. “I fixed the sink with a wrench, not a spoon.”

“W-w-wasn’t paying attention,” you hummed, too pleased with yourself. 

Bucky was shaking now, but it wasn’t from the cold. It was from panic. He didn’t know how much longer you’d last. 

Your words were slurring, your breath shallow, your body limp against him. And still, you rambled.

“I u-used to sneak looks at your file, when we first met,” you had to stop mid sentence. Bucky could tell you were struggling spitting your thought out. “I-I said it was for tactical research but I really… I just wanted to know if you liked dogs.”

“You absolute little shit,” Bucky breathed, brushing the snow from your eyebrows, from your lashes, his voice cracking. “You’re just saying everything, huh?”

“Bucky. I’m tired.” You laughed weakly, then let out a soft groan, “My head feels leaky.”

“No,” he gripped you tighter, “Don’t. Don’t fall asleep.”

“Just for a sec—”

“No.” His voice broke as he pulled you tighter against his chest, practically wrapping himself around you. “You’re not sleeping. You’re gonna stay awake, yeah? How bout this? You wanna tell me about your most recent dream?.”

“…I had a dream once that we got married. In like… a Taco Bell.”

Bucky stared down at you. “A Taco Bell?”

You made a little noise. “You wore a leather jacket over your suit and wouldn’t let go of my hand even when we were eating.”

His chest hurt. It ached. His heart felt like it was being pulled in two— half of it melting at your words, the other half broken because your pulse was thready. Even his supersoldier hearing could barely pick it up now.

You looked up at him, pupils barely tracking any movement. “I think I love you.”

He went still. 

What?

Your lip trembled. “Is that o-okay?”

His voice broke as he whispered, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.”

“Oh good,” you sighed. “Because I think I’m dying and I didn’t want to die while embarrassing myself—wait. Am I dying?”

He didn’t answer.

That told you everything.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Shit.”

“No, no. You’re not,” Bucky snapped suddenly, grabbing the bundle of twigs from the corner of the cave. His hands shook as he fed them to the tiny fire, sparks crackling weakly. 

“Stay with me,” he barked. “You don’t get to drop ‘I love you’ and then peace out into the afterlife, alright? That’s not how this works.”

You giggled faintly. “‘Peace out?’ That’s so lame.”

“You little—” He choked out another half-laugh, half-sob, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck. You’re insane. You’re actually insane. And I- Fuck, I... Argh!! I-I love you, too.”

You didn’t react.

He pulled back fast. No, no. “Hey. Hey. Did you hear me?”

Your eyes fluttered, head lolling uncontrollably. “Mmhmm. Say it again, louder. For the people in the back.”

Bucky let out a hysterical, wrecked laugh. “I love you. I love you. I have loved you for years, so you gotta stay awake for me, okay?”

“Hmm,” you agreed faintly. 

“Stay alive,” he whispered, rocking you gently, cradling your body close to the heat. “Please, just stay alive. We can talk about all of this when you’re not dying. You can tell me about your Taco Bell wedding dreams and I’ll tell you about the time I nearly kissed you in the quinjet.”

“You what?” you slurred.

“Remember that time you were dressing my wounds? I…chickened out.”

“Loser.”

Bucky could feel tears pricking in his eyes as he saw you fight the darkness that threatened to take you away. You were drained— he could see it. You’ve used up all your energy trying to stay awake, he wasn’t sure how much you had left in store.

Desperately, he chuckled his gloves into the fire. It was flammable— so it would help. It should.

The fire caught a bit brighter, and it gave you the first bit of warmth in your cheeks he’d seen in a while. Still, he didn’t know if it was enough.

Your eyes fluttered again. “I’m cold, Buck.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know. Just hold on.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” you asked, like a child asking about a bedtime story.

His heart splintered into a million little pieces.

“Yeah,” he said, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not going anywhere. So you better wake up, sweetheart.”

“…Love you, Bucky.”

He closed his eyes, frozen tears pricking at his skin.

Outside, the wind howled.

Inside the cave, two hearts —barely— kept beating.

“Love you, too.”

Your lips parted. You let out a breath. It was faint, but it was there. 

Somewhere in the haze, you closed your eyes and smiled.

-end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23