Marvel Oneshots

Silent Treatment (Bucky Barnes)

Y/N sat at the far end of the couch, arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring at the blank television screen. The silence between her and Bucky had been stretching on for hours now, thick and oppressive. She could feel his presence behind her, pacing the floor near the kitchen, but she refused to look in his direction. Her anger was still too raw.

The fight had been bad. Really bad. One minute they were talking about something mundane—plans for the weekend, maybe—and the next, everything had escalated. Harsh words had been thrown, and Y/N didn't even remember what triggered the explosion. But it didn't matter anymore. Now, there was nothing but this heavy, suffocating silence between them.

She knew Bucky hated the silent treatment. He had told her before how much it got under his skin, how it reminded him of the cold, isolating days when he had no one to talk to, no one to connect with. But right now, Y/N didn't care. She was too hurt, too angry. And if she opened her mouth now, she knew they'd just end up in another fight.

Behind her, Bucky stopped pacing. She could feel him staring at her, waiting for her to say something. But she didn't. She just continued to stare straight ahead, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Y/N," he said finally, his voice low and gruff. "Are we really gonna do this?"

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to respond. She could feel the frustration radiating off him, but she wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

Bucky took a deep breath, and she heard the sound of his footsteps as he walked over to the couch. He sat down at the other end, close but not touching her. She could sense the tension rolling off him, but she kept her eyes forward, determined to keep her distance.

"C'mon, doll," he said, his voice softer this time, trying to ease the tension. "I can't stand this. Just talk to me."

Her jaw clenched, the nickname that usually melted her defenses only stoking the fire inside her. She hated this—hated how much he could get under her skin, hated how much she wanted to forgive him and move on. But her anger was a wall between them, one she wasn't ready to tear down yet.

When she didn't respond, Bucky's patience finally snapped. "What the hell do you want from me?" he asked, his voice rising with frustration. "I said I was sorry! I don't know what else to do."

Y/N's eyes finally flicked toward him, her anger flaring up again. "Sorry doesn't fix everything, Bucky," she snapped, her voice cold. "It doesn't change what you said."

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes dark with frustration. "And what about what you said?" he shot back. "You think I wasn't hurt by that?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realized how deeply her words had cut him, hadn't thought about the impact of the things she said in the heat of the moment. But she was still too angry to back down. "Maybe I wouldn't have said those things if you hadn't pushed me."

Bucky's fists clenched, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. It was the kind of tension that felt like it could either break them or pull them back together, but neither of them was willing to make the first move.

"You're impossible," Bucky muttered, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in every movement. "You shut me out every time we have a fight, and I don't know how to fix it."

Y/N's anger flared again, her body tense as she glared at him. "Maybe I shut you out because you don't listen! You act like it's no big deal, like we can just brush everything under the rug and move on. But that's not how it works, Bucky."

He leaned forward, his eyes flashing with anger. "And you think giving me the silent treatment is the way to solve things? How am I supposed to fix anything if you won't even talk to me?"