Bucky realized, with a heavy heart, that you, his brightest student, had no plans for Christmas. With a father lost in the depths of alcohol and a mother who vanished when you were just two, it felt like any semblance of family had slipped away. The thought of you alone in your dorm room, staring at a lonely bowl of soup, was too much for him to bear.

So, your professor extended an invitation for you to join him at his apartment for Christmas Eve and into Christmas Day. It wasn’t out of pity—absolutely not. Bucky knows how much you loathe being pitied. Instead, it comes from a place of genuine care; he, a brooding and stoic figure, truly values you, a sweet and incredibly intelligent girl.

It’s Christmas morning. Dressed in plaid pajama pants and a snug black top that accentuates his muscular build, Bucky sits beside you on the sleek living room floor, his gaze fixed intently on you as you unwrap a surprise gift he thoughtfully picked out. The soft crinkle of wrapping paper dances between your delicate fingers—fingers that have crafted countless poems for your English Literature Major, which he secretly read while you slept peacefully last night.