Stucky One-Shots (Angst, Fluff, Smut)

Be the death of me

just a little high school au !!

words: 2.3k

'Cause there's always time for second guesses, I don't wanna know, if you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I wanna go

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Steve sauntered down the hallway, weaving through the mass of bodies in front of him. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, clutching his backpack strap in one hand, and his book in the other. He rounded the corner when he ran into something solid. The weight of his backpack, combined with his poor balance, pulled him down. His glasses fell, tumbling to the ground. He sighed, his vision was blurry but he managed to hold onto his belongings. He squinted as he felt for the device that miraculously lets him see. He felt blush creeping up his neck at the sound of laughter, he knew it was directed at his falling, he desperately patted the grimey floor.

"I think these are yours?" A voice managed between loud, uncontrollable chuckles. Steve froze. He knew that voice. He knew it painfully well. To say Steve had a crush on the owner would be accurate; but if he said he had it for 'a while,' that would be an understatement. Although he'd never admit it, his attraction dated back to the late elementary days. He blinked a few times before taking the frames from Bucky Barnes, one of the most popular people in school. Everyone adored him. Steve was infatuated.

"Y-yeah, those are--are mine," he stammered, cursing himself for it. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose, finally able to see once again. Bucky stood over him, looking extremely amused. And hot.... He blushed once more and averted his eyes to anything but the man in front of him. "Th-thanks...."

"You're welcome, pretty boy," Bucky said with such charisma and ease that Steve thought he would've fallen apart at any second. He gestured to help the smaller one get up (Steve reluctantly took it). On his feet, he felt dizzy and his stomach ached. Nerves, probably.

He made to walk away, but Bucky had other plans. He grabbed Steve's wrist and drew him in against his chest. Steve's breathing hitched, and he glanced up to an unreadable face. The taller one leaned in, his lips brushed the shell of his ear. "Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?"

"To class." He said it more as a question rather than a statement.

"Without telling me your name? Or do I have to keep calling you 'pretty boy'?"

"It's Steve...."

Bucky hummed, thinking. "Steve." Hearing it come from his mouth was so much more attractive than any way Steve himself could say it. "Well, Steve, I really do think you're a pretty boy. Maybe we'll cross paths in the future." Steve didn't mention the fact that they actually have a class together this semester.

With that, Bucky feathered his fingers through Steve's fringe, pushing away the strands that fell into his eyes. Steve simply let him, eyes glazed over. When he finally came to his senses, he realized two things: One, Bucky's friends saw that whole scene and probably know that Steve is basically in love with him. And....

Brrrrrring!

Two, he was late to his next class.

He swore as he turned away and bolted towards AP Chem. His face burned red when the teacher gave him the side eye as he slid into his lab stool. He unpacked his notebook and rushed to catch the notes on the board before Ms. Klement removed them. He was in the middle of copying down how molecules arrange and how forces between them interact when he's nudged on the arm. He glanced over to see his friends Tony (grinning like an idiot) and Bruce (raising an eyebrow).

"What?" He hissed, focusing his attention back to the front.

"Why were you late?" Bruce inquired. "You're never late."