Me too— oh! I cannot wait show you pictures of me when I was a kid. I was pretty cute. This will be hard to believe, but I was much cuter than I already am now.
[ she was luckier than most widows. most of the ones that are plucked from the arms of their parents, or just from the streets, can be as young as two or three. usually, when an adopted child finds out the truth of their birth — their first instinct is to seek out answers about their birth parents. but yelena never spared them a single thought. if they wanted to find her, they would searched high and low for her, wouldn't they? her face would have been plastered all over the news, but that wasn't the case.
there is not enough time in the world for her to spend being angry at the past; at the decisions of the strangers that brought her into this world. because through all the bad she has endured, there is so much good that came out of it. a lot of them are the little moments; like right now, except yelena is too busy tracing the outline of his lips to even notice him looking at hers.
bucky makes the first move to get out of bed — it looks like, anyway — and he takes the warmth that she'd been craving for so long, with him. it's fine though, she doesn't mind. a little difficult to be bothered about it when her eyes catch sight of the bare skin beneath his shirt as he hunches over, if only for the slightest of moments. (what? he was ogling at her legs last night, it's only fair that she gets to do the same.) then he is looking back at her, and has the audacity to move the stray strands of hair that tickle the tip of her nose. his fingertips barely make any contact with her cheeks, but it is enough to send to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand in anticipation—
—of breakfast! well, her heart is still in her throat, but her face lights up like the sky for americans on the fourth of fucking july at the mention of food. ]
Yes! Breakfast sounds so good right now. I am not picky. I will even eat just cereal. But I would like to see you cook, for once.
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[ she was luckier than most widows. most of the ones that are plucked from the arms of their parents, or just from the streets, can be as young as two or three. usually, when an adopted child finds out the truth of their birth — their first instinct is to seek out answers about their birth parents. but yelena never spared them a single thought. if they wanted to find her, they would searched high and low for her, wouldn't they? her face would have been plastered all over the news, but that wasn't the case.
there is not enough time in the world for her to spend being angry at the past; at the decisions of the strangers that brought her into this world. because through all the bad she has endured, there is so much good that came out of it. a lot of them are the little moments; like right now, except yelena is too busy tracing the outline of his lips to even notice him looking at hers.
bucky makes the first move to get out of bed — it looks like, anyway — and he takes the warmth that she'd been craving for so long, with him. it's fine though, she doesn't mind. a little difficult to be bothered about it when her eyes catch sight of the bare skin beneath his shirt as he hunches over, if only for the slightest of moments. (what? he was ogling at her legs last night, it's only fair that she gets to do the same.) then he is looking back at her, and has the audacity to move the stray strands of hair that tickle the tip of her nose. his fingertips barely make any contact with her cheeks, but it is enough to send to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand in anticipation—
—of breakfast! well, her heart is still in her throat, but her face lights up like the sky for americans on the fourth of fucking july at the mention of food. ]
Yes! Breakfast sounds so good right now. I am not picky. I will even eat just cereal. But I would like to see you cook, for once.