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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

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Thank youuuu again ❤️ I love seeing comments and this fic was what we needed to heal from the bs Steve did in the first one, and who's better for that than Bucky ❤️

No, you can't call me her name (S.R)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

P.T. 2 of Can I call you her name?

Summary: It’s funny how they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

9.8k words

Content Warning: Angst, heartbreak, Steve’s side of the story, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (slight mentions of penetrative sex), fluff from an spectators point of view, big talks about heartbreak and emotional damage because of a relationship.

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

For as long as he can remember, Steve’s life has been plagued by an unstoppable force of people leaving his life, whether it was by death itself, broken relationships, or just time. He had lost his mom when he was only eighteen years old, left alone to figure out his place in a vicious world that had no place for someone like him.

He had also lost Bucky. Except that this time, it wasn't death that did it, at least not entirely. He had lost his brother that day when he fell from the moving train. Everyone, including himself, had thought of him as dead, as it would be impossible for him to survive the fall. The second time he lost him was when he realized what he had become.

Steve had also lost Tony for a while, but the relationship was still on its way to becoming what it once was. He had lost Peggy, the possibility of a life with the woman who had won his heart for the first time.

He had lost stability ever since he woke up from the ice. Things in his life always seemed to fluctuate between okay and bad without warning. Every day could be the day he lost someone else, or something bad could happen to the rest of the world, which would always fall on his shoulders to fix.

That was until she came.

Steve never meant to fall for her. In the beginning, she was just a coworker, someone he had met through S.H.I.E.L.D. and who he would occasionally see during briefing meetings. There was no love at first sight or a sudden realization that he had found the person he had been looking for to complete him.

First, it was just a talk, small talk that turned into something more comfortable once they shared that they grew up in the same neighborhood, at different points in time, but the familiarity of the past was enough to entice him.

One day, he noticed how he was unconsciously waiting for her to cross the door, hoping she would look at him and wave him hello. Another day, he realized how much he liked when she smiled at him, his own smile mimicking hers, and how he would fix his hair and clothes before going into a room she was going to be in.

From that moment on, he was a goner.

She had turned into that piece of stability he had been missing in his life. Their relationship meant he had something to grow attached to, someone to come back to. The veil of loneliness that lingered in his life was slowly lifted with her help, and Steve no longer felt out of place. He was no longer a man out of time.

Things moved on quickly. Six months later, they moved in together, and the confidence they both had in their decision tuned out other people's input about the relationship. Mostly Bucky, who had warned him not to go in too deep, but Steve, as brave and selfless as he could be, was also stubborn.

For five years Steve was able to go back home and it would actually feel like one. For five years, no matter how hard things got, he was always good. Happy. Content. Because for five years he had her at his side, no matter what life would throw at them.

Everything was stable for a while. But the one thing Steve failed to realize was that just because you are happy where you are, that doesn’t mean things will stay the same. Good things rarely last, and time moves too fast.

Steve never saw it coming when she came home one day and told him she had taken a job on the other side of the country. The news that she had been planning this for a while blindsided him. He was aware that things weren't as good as they used to be; a certain amount of tension had lingered between them for the past half year of their relationship. But he thought they could work on it, fix whatever had been broken, and go back to how things were.

After all, he has always been a fighter. No matter how difficult, no matter how unlikely, no matter how painful, as long as there was hope, he would fight.

Except this time, he should’ve given up.

"Because I don’t love you anymore!"

"I can’t keep living in this—this farce. Every time I come home, I wish you weren’t here. I wish I was alone in this house because at least then I could breathe, and I wouldn’t have to pretend I still feel something when you touch me."

"I need to get away from you, because if I don't, I’ll never leave, and in twenty years, I’ll wake up and realize that I spent my life with someone I have never truly loved."

Pain and grief weren’t foreign concepts for him. He embraced them, learned from them, and moved on.

Steve Rogers knew pain from the battlefield. He had been shot, stabbed, burned, and punched by beings ten times stronger than him. He also knew pain from the loss of a friend, the loss of his life, and from the loss of someone he loved.

But the pain of losing your one silver lining in a sea of darkness was too much to bear.

After that, life was a blur spent between missions, training, and gathering intel. Mission after mission, report after report, months passed until he finally realized it had been almost a year and a half since she left.

His hair had changed, his beard had grown, and some might even say he got bulkier as his coping mechanism ever since he got the super serum had been breaking boxing bags. He had moved back into the tower, and his hobby of drawing had stopped completely. The notebook he had half filled with sketches was left untouched in one of the drawers of his desk.

Things had changed, except for the emptiness of his chest.

But then you came.

You came into his life in such an unexpected way that it took him by surprise. a beautiful woman covered in coffee and whipped cream who had such a colorful vocabulary. You were like the whiff of fresh air he had needed for so long, and the more he got to know you, the more he was intrigued by you. He praised your perseverance and enthusiasm for your work, noting that you always gave your all to every project you worked on.He also admired your strength, perhaps not physical but emotional, and the way that no one could make you crumble apart. Not your boss, your coworkers, or humiliation itself.

Not even him.

Steve was well aware of your feelings for him from the start.The way your eyes would shine when he touched you or the sound of your heartbeat kicking against your chest when your eyes connected. He saw every change in you when you went from liking him to loving him. You had never explicitly said the words, but there was no need, you couldn’t mask the emotions that hid behind your eyes.

He knew your feelings towards him from the very beginning, and yet he stayed. He stayed because he liked the way you made him feel and that the loneliness that had taken over his life was no longer there. He allowed himself to be loved by you just so the emptiness in his chest wouldn’t feel so deep anymore.

But Steve also knew he couldn’t love you back. His heart didn’t belong to him anymore; it wasn’t his to give to someone else, as it had left those years ago with her. The way something broke inside you when you asked him for more almost made him break things up. It would’ve been the best thing for you; you were his friend, yet he had no problem hurting you.

However, your relationship had shown Steve a quality he never thought he had. He was a selfish man. He couldn't let you go, not when you were the only thing keeping him afloat in the darkness. You were his lighthouse, and without you, he would drown, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to come back from it. So he said he needed time; he promised you a future that would never come just to keep you by his side.

Of all the shitty things Steve had done, he thought this was the worst one. Using you, playing with your feelings, and giving you false hope. He thought he couldn’t hurt you more than that.

Oh, he had been so wrong.

But now she had her back. And in the end, it was all that mattered, right? The woman he had been loving ever since she left had, for some reason, decided to take him back. Everything was supposed to be perfect and in place. He was whole now.

Then why was the emptiness in his chest still there?

"So, what do you think?"

Wide eyes scan the notebook you hold in your hands. For a moment, he thinks you hate it; the drawing of yourself he had made shows you in a compromising position. The sheets from your bed covered the lower half of your body while your arms extended over your head. Your breasts were perked up, and the soft lines ran along your shape in a seductive position as you lay down in bed.

However, it is your eyes that draw attention away from your frame.Your face is looking directly at the viewer, as if you were laying right in front of them in the flesh. The intensity he portrayed in them is the same one he always sees when you look at him. Steve knows what it is, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. Even when he tries to erase it from his mind, or when he looks away because he can’t bear to see them, they’re always there to greet him. And, if he is honest with himself, he can’t help but be drawn to them.

He likes how they make him feel.

You notice the fire in your eyes too. Your fingers softly trace along the lines of the drawing, making sure not to smudge them as it is only made out of pencil. Perhaps he should use one of those drawing pens you gifted to him on his birthday to immortalize your image on the paper; the pencil is too fragile to let your portrait sit on it. It’s a portrait he will like to preserve for eternity.

"Well, I think that documentary I watched on you lied to me," you say with a frown, eyes still glued to the notebook.

What?

His chest sinks a little; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he had thought you would.

"What do you mean?"

You look up, and his heart soars. You have the same look, now complimented with a coy smile.

"They said you were a good artist, but it turns out you’re amazing."

Your smile is bigger now, and it's contagious. Steve crosses your bed, your bedsheets slipping down his body as he reaches for you. One of his hands grabs the back of your neck to bring you close for a kiss, while the other goes to your hip. The weight of his body pushes you down to your back; his notebook is discarded next to you.

He can feel your smile as he crashes his lips against yours. A hand rests on his chest as delicate fingers bury themselves in his hair. The way you massage his scalp sends shivers down his spine, a trick you discovered the second time you slept together.

With a teasing smile on your now puffy lips, you break the kiss apart."Well, someone has a praise kink."

Heat flushes Steve’s face. The sweet notes of your laugh fill his ears; your head is thrown back slightly as your chest rumbles. You caress his face as your laugh decreases, your fingers brushing his hair as you adjust it. And there they are again, those eyes that burn deep in his soul as much as he tries to avoid them.

But he can’t bear to look at them. So he just nuzzles against your chest, the affectionate embrace taking you by surprise.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he says quietly, almost as if he doesn't think you heard him.

He shouldn’t have done that. He means every word he says. Because right now, as he lays in your arms, he can forget about everyone else outside your apartment. Just for a few seconds, he can pretend.

He can pretend to forget about her.

"Me too," you whisper back.

The hopefulness of your words almost breaks him.

Darkness met Steve’s eyes as he opened them. It took him a second to remember he wasn’t back in your apartment, nor had you settled against him. Instead, the warmth he feels next to him is from the girl he yearned for in that memory, and the apartment he was settled in was hers.

He had dreamed about you nearly every night since you left. Taunting reminders of your affection for him haunted his dreams every time he closed his eyes, but this time he was unable to escape them. He expected the dreams to stop a couple of weeks after you left. However, as time passed and your absence in his life became more noticeable each day, they kept coming back. Each one was more vivid than the previous, as if his mind was desperate to see you, even if it was in the past.

"You okay?" Her whisper startled him slightly. He didn’t realize she was awake or that she was staring at him.

"Yeah, I’m fine." The unconvincing tone of his voice made her frown, but she left him alone. So many times she has asked the same question that his unwillingness to answer doesn’t really bother her anymore. "How long have you been awake?" He changed subjects.

She shrugged. "A couple of minutes." Her hand settled delicately on his chest, making him turn around to see her. "You were mumbling in your sleep."

"Oh, sorry," was all he said to her.

He returned to his sleeping position, his gaze fixed on the roof of her apartment. He'd been there for a few weeks, but he still couldn't get used to her white roof. Yours was also white, but something about this shade made him uncomfortable. Yours made him feel calm. Secure. At peace.

Maybe it was the neighborhood or the decor you had that made him feel like that.

Or maybe it was you.

Instead, he is left with uneasiness every time he comes to see her. Her cups were not where they were supposed to be. The towels she has have a different texture; they somehow felt rougher on his skin, and even the smell in the place is different. The unfamiliarity of the place almost swallowed him whole.

She laid on top of him, her hand tracing lazy circles on his chest as her lips left kisses on his neck. She’s trying to comfort him, but for some reason, the only thing he felt was an uneasiness that found its way to his chest.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"No." He answered quickly, almost too quickly.

In his dreams, your eyes still carried that same warmth. You still made him feel, even if it’s just a memory.

"It was a pretty good dream."

Why do things have to be so complicated, even when they are supposed to be perfect?

Steve had a plan for the night. He had cooked dinner, set the table, and even gone to grab her favorite scented candles. Everything was in place.

He needed a distraction. Or more like a reminder that even if he didn’t have you in his life for the moment, he still had his silver lining. He still had her. He needed to remind himself that everything had turned out for the best, and what better reminder than spending the night together?

The plan started well; she got home, took a shower, and they both sat down to have a great dinner. He had done this many times when they lived together. He loved the way her eyes sparkled when she saw his surprise and the way she would smile all evening. Nights like that always brought them together.

However, things may not always be as perfect as they once were.

He couldn’t remember how it had started. Perhaps it was the way he had cooked the food or the mess he had left in the kitchen, or maybe she just had a rough day at work. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but they started arguing. They had argued in the past, as many couples do, but even in the middle of a screaming match, he could feel the love between the words. And no matter how bad it was, he always felt the need to stay.

But this time it suffocated him.

The more they kept fighting, the more the room seemed unbearable to be in. He didn’t like the way she kept saying things about him she didn’t like, the things he had done wrong. He also didn’t like the way he could so easily think of things about her that he found irritating.

And as she stood up to lock herself in her bedroom, he didn’t feel the need to go check on her. With an anger that seeped deeply through his veins, he slammed the door. He didn’t say a word to her, not even leaving a note behind.

There had been a few times when Steve Rogers felt nervous.

He had felt like that when he was given the serum. The pain he felt once his bones started growing was one he would never forget. He also felt it when he crashed into the ice, saving the city that saw him grow up. The world had moved on for seventy years before he woke up.

And as he looked at the door of the conference room and his leg bounced up and down, Steve felt the same way he felt all those times.

Sixty-eight days had gone by since the last time you spoke. For sixty-eight days he had been waiting for this day, when you finally got back from your trip and had to come to the tower to discuss things with him. Work-related things, of course, as you had left it really clear you didn’t want anything else to do with him.

He had been debating all night whether he would try to apologize again. His heart begged him to do it, to keep trying until you heard his apology. But his rational mind would remind him of the phone call you had the day you left. You didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and he couldn’t blame you.

So, instead of keeping apologizing over and over again, he would treat you as if you were just a coworker. He would pretend as if you were a stranger that he had just met. A stranger that knew his deepest, darkest secrets. A stranger that brought him comfort with just her touch A stranger, whose heart he had shattered

Everything he had planned fell apart the moment you walked into the room and raised your gaze to him. You were there, walking in as if nothing had happened two months ago. But this was not his you.

There was ice around you, a barrier so tall and thick that he could almost feel it as you got closer. You looked the same. The same clothes he had seen before, the same color and length of your hair, and your features remain intact. You were exactly as he had seen you in his dreams every night.Everything was the same, except it wasn’t.

"Good morning" was the greeting you offered him. Different, cold, distant.

He wanted to say so many things, and words of apology were dying on his throat. But he knew how you would react to his wanting to talk about something other than the matter at hand. Besides, he owed you that much after everything he had done. For your sake, he wouldn’t try. He would leave you alone.

The meeting went through without a problem. If Steve had to describe you in any way, he would use the word polite. Through the whole meeting, you were polite to him, asking him what he wanted to do, suggesting new ideas, and scheduling the places he had to go. You were polite yet distant, and Steve realized that maybe he wouldn’t have to pretend you were a stranger.

The woman he had met and the one that sat right in front of him were not the same. The woman in front of him didn’t have the same love pouring from her heart when she talked to him. He wasn’t even sure still you had a heart.

It was all his fault.

He was supposed to stay the night in her apartment; a bag of clothes for the next day hanging from his shoulder was proof of it. But as soon as he laid on the bed, his brain refused to shut down. Flashbacks to him seeing you walk into the room plagued his mind, and your icy stare could freeze him on the spot.

"Selfish, selfish, selfish," his mind kept whispering.

He would’ve been fine staying the night there even if he couldn’t sleep, but when Steve felt her hand trailing down, his first reaction wasn’t excitement. Blue eyes and blonde hair met his sight; her fingers searched through his skin, leading down a path that led under his pants. Before, just the lustful look in her eyes was enough to make him hard. Now it just made him want to crawl away.

She had become a constant reminder of the things he had done and the irreparable damage he had caused to you.

His phone had miraculously saved him. The ding cut through the atmosphere. His body almost jumped from the bed to grab the device that lay on the nightstand next to him. A simple text from Sam asking to borrow his brown leather jacket since his had been ruined a couple weeks ago. He texted him back, quickly gathering his belongings as he zipped the duffle bag.

"Sorry, they need me back at the tower." He had lied.

That night, he walked for hours in the dark streets of New York, passing through the places he had taken you on your first date or non-date.

He could still feel your lips on his when his eyes were closed.

There were three times Steve realized your relationship with his best friend was turning into something else.

The first time happened during a work meeting. Everything went exactly as it had gone ever since you came back. Professional, superficial, and distant. His mind told him it was the best for both, but especially for you. He couldn’t ask anything more of you, and even asking you to hear his apology would be for his own benefit.

But he couldn’t help but want to be selfish, not when you were just inches away from him. It was weird how easy it was for you to pretend there wasn’t a past between both of you. He had expected you to be angry at him, yell at him, maybe slap him. He had expected violence because, at the end of the day, it was what he deserved.

The rage and anger never came. He got the side of indifference, which cut him more than if you were going to hate him for the rest of your life. Why was it so easy? Why couldn’t he do the same and pretend nothing had happened between you two?

Why did he keep dreaming about you?

A part of Steve knew the answer, the part of him that had tried to make him stop using you. The part of him that was humane and cared about people had warned him against it, the pang in his chest whenever he could feel your love was proof of it. Every time he ignored that part of his, just like he kept doing whenever he sat next to you.

Instead, he decided he could be content with just having you here. Because having you sit in front of him was better than not having you at all. Indifference was worse than hate, but he could hold onto it, as long as he could still see you.

He was content with it until Bucky came around.

A reflective flash caught his eye. The artificial lightning had reflected from the super-soldier's prosthetic as he stood outside the crystal walls of the conference room. Steve was aware you two were close now, seeing as he had accompanied you not only during his mandatory press tour but also during your two weeks of vacation. He also remembered that he had been the one to take you out of the room that night at the gala.

Steve couldn't blame his friend for wanting to protect you or for seeming to withdraw from him. Bucky had not really spoken a lot to him since that night, instead opting for avoidance at all costs. The only words that Steve was able to get from him weren’t even words. Grunts and nods, monosyllables, and side eyes were all the responses he would get. The only time he had gotten anything else from his was the night after everything crashed down.

The elevator doors opened, and his friend took long, angry strides out of the metal box. Steve could see his friend's rage seeping through him, a level of rage he hadn't seen in a long time.

Steve never saw Bucky’s fist coming to his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared.

His nose stung from what he thought was a broken nose. Sparks of pain traveled across his face and blood started pouring out of it. His eyes watered as he tried to escape his friend's grasp so he could protect his face. But his friend’s rage was a strong enhancement to his already strong grip. He held him against a wall.

"You don’t understand. "She's back," he said, his voice breaking.

"What about her? What about the fact you had been leading that poor girl on for the past two years?" The pressure on Steve's chest from Bucky’s fist increased. Steve turned his head around, not being able to face his friend.

"I didn’t mean to hurt her—"

"But you did. The things you said yesterday..." He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Steve never meant for you to hear those things, he wasn’t even sure if he was ever going to tell them to you. But when his eyes found yours, the broken image of the girl who had been by his side no longer than 20 minutes ago was seared into his brain.

"Stay the fuck away from her, or the next time I see you, your nose won't be the only thing that’s broken."

His relationship with Bucky had been nonexistent since that day. He was lucky that Sam seemed not to be aware of what had transpired, as he had only found it odd that there was no contact between you and him. Steve wasn’t going to explain the situation, too embarrassed to admit it to his friend and risk losing Sam too.

Lately, he seemed to be an expert at driving away his friends.

He watched you walk through the door, a smile appearing on your face as you saw Bucky standing outside the room. His flesh arm extended, showing off a cup. He recognized the logo on the side of the object. It was from your favorite coffee place, and it was, as he assumed, your favorite drink.

You looked at the drink, then at Bucky’s eyes, and Steve saw it. It flashed in your eyes so quickly that he thought he had imagined it. The light in your eyes that once showed for him and only him, was now thrown at Bucky, even if it was just for a second. And in return, Bucky’s eyes showed the same brightness, a light pink flushing his face.

The coffee mug he held in his hand snapped, its contents spilling all over the table. He didn’t realize his hands were fists or that his jaw was snapped shut as he clenched it. His hands pricked as he continued to stare at you two. Your hand reached out to the super soldier's face, and your lips deposited a small kiss on his cheek.

Steve heard another breaking noise, except this time it came from his chest.

The second time he saw was months later.

Steve Rogers would never describe himself as a guy who likes to go out at night. He didn’t do dancing. It wasn’t like it used to be, the music had another rhythm, his body wasn’t in sync with it. He didn’t do clubs either. There were always too many people in them, the sea of bodies made him feel like he was drowning. He couldn’t even get drunk, the only thing that got him to that state was the Asgardian liquor Thor had gifted him

He had his exceptions, though.

That night you had taken him to a club, that first night when everything started. It was his first time inside a club, having previously only attended Tony's extravagant parties. Those were bearable, he was surrounded by people he knew (at least some of them), and the vast space of the penthouse was big enough for him to be able to step away without anyone noticing.

With you, however, he had been able to dance in the middle of the sea without a care. Your hips swayed to the music, your own body displaying a symphony of movements that made his heartbeat accelerate. His hands moved before his brain could react, landing on the side of your hips. His memories of that night were ones that he would never forget.

Tonight was another one of those exceptions.

She wanted to go out. For a couple of weeks she had been nagging asking about it, not taking a no for an answer. Finding the whole conversation repetitive and annoying, he finally caved in today.

However, he left out an important detail.

He had heard Sam and Bucky talking in the hallways. He didn’t mean to, as he was making his way to the elevator, and he just happened to pick up the conversation. For what he had gathered, you had invited them to go out with you to a nightclub called Temptation Paradise. He thought about leaving, not wanting to intrude more. But Sam's throwing of your name kept him in his place.

"You do need to step up your game," Sam chuckled.

He heard Bucky’s metallic arm flexing. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you gotta dress to impress her man. And do something with your hair, with all the black clothes and long hair on your face, you look kinda depressing."

"Fuck you."

Sam laughed. "No, but I mean it. She’s a beautiful single woman, emphasis on the single, in the middle of the dancefloor. You think no one will shoot their shot with her?"

Sam’s words had made him decide that tonight was the night. He had managed to discreetly suggest to her that they go to the same place, about half an hour after you arrived there. The excitement she felt almost made him feel guilty, but once again he decided to be selfish. Just one more time.

A group of her friends had gone with them. Part of him was relieved because they would be a good distraction for her while he looked for you. He told the group he was going to get a drink, scurrying away before they could ask him to bring them some too.

He hated it. Once again, the sea of people made his chest tighten, body parts bumping and grinding against him as he tried to make his way towards the bar. The ambiance of the place was too dark and sensual for the amount of anxiety he was feeling.

He spent twenty minutes looking for you. His whisky was almost done, as he had given up hope. Maybe something had happened, and you weren’t even there. Maybe you'd already gone home with someone. He put the glass on the bar, leaving a tip for the bartender.

It had all been for nothing, and now shame filled him. It was a stupid idea to try and follow you just because of the possibility you might get together with someone tonight. What was he going to do even if it happened? It wasn’t like he could step up and stop anything from happening. He didn’t have any claim over you, and if you were to find out what he had done, you would’ve probably slapped him. He was an idiot.

But he heard it.

A laugh. Your laugh.

Steve felt like he was in a movie. Time had slowed for him, and your shape had become more distinct to him as people moved around the dance floor. Your eyes were closed as you danced along with the music, the lighting of the place dimming until he could barely see anyone around him. Blue and red flashes kissed your skin, the artificial lights dancing all over the place.

You looked beautiful.

His feet moved for him. He wanted to touch you, place himself behind you as you kept swaying your hips around. He wanted to feel the heat from your body against his chest, your ass grinding on his crotch. He wanted you.

Until he saw a hand wrapping around your stomach. Strong fingers moved through your body in the same way that his had done a few years ago. They rested on your stomach for a couple of seconds before they started traveling up your body. Bucky’s figure came into the light, pressing you tighter against him. His head was low enough to whisper something in your ear.

Steve left the club without looking back.

The last and third time happened a couple of weeks later.

It was true that New York is a city that never sleeps. The streets were still filled with light coming from the many billboards and signs that covered the buildings that surrounded the streets. The rain that poured down onto the streets was stopped by his black umbrella, one that was big enough to cover two people. The dark red carnations he held on to his chest remained dry.

Nighttime walks had become a routine for him. His restless thoughts didn’t allow him to shut off his brain, no matter how hard he tried. He caught himself walking toward your office a couple of times, his subconscious remembering the nights he had that routine. He tried to avoid it, walking in the opposite direction every time he noticed it, but his heart wasn’t as strong as he thought. He bought the flowers before he could even stop to think about it.

As he kept walking, he saw your office building ahead, still a few blocks away. Steve had gotten so into his head that perhaps he couldn’t tell you how sorry he was, but he could still try to show you. He remembered the days you left late at night, Friday being the usual one, as you wanted to leave everything ready for when you came back. A flash of hurt installed itself in his heart as he remembered he had not been picking you up in the final months of your relationship, his own mind too consumed by his ex’s return.

He had let you walk the lonely, dark streets alone.

But the past was the past, he couldn’t do anything to change it. He was half a block away when he saw you going down the stairs, a large black coat covering your frame. Your usual heels were replaced by boots. He remembered you kept a pair in your office for cold, rainy days like these.

His steps faltered, and his heart stammered in his chest. He was nervous about how you would react to him showing up unexpectedly, but more than anything, the unknown feelings kept coming back every time he thought about you. He didn’t know what they meant, but it seemed as if they intensified whenever you came around.

With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. This was his chance to prove himself, and hopefully it was enough to keep you in his life. He was ready to face you.

Except you weren’t alone.

A figure he hadn’t noticed before approached you. For a moment, he thought the man was going to attack you until he saw your smile. It was the type of smile you gave someone you were fond of. The type of smile that makes the edges of your eyes crinkle. It was warm and welcoming.

It was the type of smile you used to give him.

He hid himself behind a vehicle, wanting to watch the interaction more without risking being caught. Who was this man who made you laugh so hard and hugged you so tightly that he noticed the hug was a second longer than it should have been?

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately for him, the man took off his hoodie.

Jealousy was a bitter emotion. The pain in his chest and the rage that made his fists clench were too much for him to bear. The carnations he had been holding close were destroyed, their red petals falling to the ground and being carried away by the streams of rain.

Your arms entwined as Bucky opened an umbrella to protect you from the weather. He heard your laugh as you rested your head on his arm, your body searching for warmth from his best friend. You walked away, making plans for the night.

It was like he was never part of your life.

He was watching you fall in love with someone else. He was being forced by destiny and his own hand to witness how your heart forgot him.

Steve should’ve realized sooner that things were not the same .

At first, it was the little things.

It wasn’t only her apartment that he found odd, nor was it the furniture or the decoration. It wasn’t just the material things that made him feel out of place. It was the way she would brush his hair with her fingers, the pattern she made wasn’t the one he had gotten used to. Or the way she would kiss his neck, her lips didn’t find the place that could make him shiver anymore. It was also the way she smelled, her scent didn’t bring him relief when he hugged her.

Then he realized how much he disliked it when she left a mess behind when she came home. Or the way she would repeat her anecdotes when she forgot she already told them in the first place. Her laugh had lost its endearing tone, and now he could only hear how loud and frenetic it was.

It was her perfume, her clothes, her smile, the way she said "I love you," the way she would embrace him, the things she liked, the way her leg would bounce when she was nervous, her eyes.

Her eyes weren’t the ones he would dream about.

Every night those damned eyes would visit him. And every night, even if it was for just a few seconds, he would lose himself in them. He had seen them so many times that now his sketchbook was filled with them. He thought it would help him get rid of the image from his mind.

Almost three months had passed since he last saw them outside of his dreams. He had to give it to you. You were effective when you wanted to avoid someone. The meetings you had weren’t that frequent in the first place, but, as you had made it your life goal to never be alone with him in the same place, your only meetings were when Sam and Bucky were around. You had stated that this was a more efficient way. Steve wasn’t fond of efficiency ever since.

Even in the rare occasions he could see you, it wasn’t the same. He could only see snippets of the person you used to be, each time less and less as you forgot what you had once felt for him.

But Steve missed more than just your eyes. He missed the way you made him laugh, your sense of humor always had him gasping for air, his stomach hurting as he held it with his hand. He also missed how good of a listener you were. Even as you kept quiet, you had a way to let him know you paid attention to every word he said.

In all honesty, you were the first one he went to whenever everything else in the world seemed too much. He initially assumed it was because he needed to feel your love, his selfishness overpowering his rational mind. Except that the more he returned, the more he realized it was you he craved.

For almost two years, he had you.

And for almost two years he could’ve been happy, if he had allowed himself to.

Anger.

Steve could only feel anger as time passed after that night. The irrational part of him had taken over as a deep sense of despair settled into his daily life. Those unknown feelings you caused plagued his soul, he couldn’t escape them anymore. He couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist, the more he tried, the deeper the hurt.

His own relationship was crumbling apart. There were days they couldn’t stay in the same room, unable to bear each other’s presence. There were nights he couldn’t bear to have her in her arms as they lay down, her touch felt so foreign. Sometimes he couldn’t even text her back. Being with her didn’t feel like a choice anymore, it felt like duty.

At first Steve had thought it was him the one that caused all the problems, his new found obsession with you taking over his thoughts. His mind and heart didn’t belong to him, they didn’t even belong to her anymore.

They were yours. They had always been yours.

But it wasn’t only himself the one that had changed. He saw it in her too, even when they first got back together. Her smile wasn't as genuine as she pretended, and her touch wasn't as loving as she intended. She had tried, though. He could see how much she tried to hold onto who they once were, even going so far as to recreate one of their memories of the past.

The memories were good, but the present couldn’t live up to them.

So, like any couple who refuses to admit their own shortcomings, they attempted to fix everything with sex.

That’s how they got to where they were tonight. The bed in her apartment creaked as he kept pounding into her. He had a firm grip on her hips, possibly enough to bruise her skin, but neither of them cared at this point. They wanted to forget, no matter the cost.

Her whines filled the room. The noises he had heard many times before accentuated his movements, they let him read her easily enough to know that he was doing a good job.

Except that the more Steve kept hearing them, the deeper the hole in his chest grew. He couldn’t feel anything but anger. He closed his eyes, and all he could see was Bucky’s hands around your waist. He noticed your smile, the way you caressed his hand when you thought no one was looking.

He saw the way you cared about him, the tenderness in your touch and your words as you chatted in the corner of the room. He saw everything.

Tears prickled his eyes. His pace was increasing not only in rhythm but also in strength. This was the only way he could forget, and not even now was he able to shut you out. But he was tired. He wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer.

Why couldn’t he stop feeling?

Then it all came crashing down. His eyes closed, and he decided to embrace his thoughts.

"Steve," she moaned.

"Steve! Someone’s going to see us," you laughed. His hands groped your ass as he lifted your legs to his waist.

"Let them see. I want them to know you’re mine."

"Don’t stop, baby."

"You think we could ever just leave everything behind and go somewhere?" you asked. Your eyes were fixed on the window of your apartment. Small droplets of water crashed against the crystal.

His hands found yours, his head found its place on your shoulder.

"Any time you ask, I’ll drop everything to go with you."

"I’m so close."

"I need more." Your voice trembled. Your hands shook as you poured out your heart to him. Your left hand clung to his. "I can’t keep going like this. I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends"

His words died at his throat. He knew this day would come, he had expected it since that first night. He had rehearsed what he would say, how he would let you know he just wanted a casual relationship. No feelings attached.

He wasn’t prepared for the sad look in your eyes, though. Or how broken they looked once he gave you an answer,

"I’m sorry. I can’t."

"Keep going. Please."

"No, please!" he pleaded. His mind was racing as he tried to stop you from hanging up. "Please don’t leave. Your coworkers told me you’re going with Bucky to his press tour today, but I want to see you. I need to see you."

He couldn’t let you go, not like that. Because he knew that once you embarked on the tour, there was no turning back. Your departure meant things would change, he would completely lose you. He wanted to explain. He needed to make you understand. He never meant to hurt you as much as he did, but he did it anyway.

"Stay, please."

You had to stay, because no matter how hard he tried to keep you at arm's length, you still meant a lot to him. For the past two years, you have made him as happy as he could be. Your selfless way of loving had made its home in the place where his heart had been. He wasn’t ready to let that part go.

You had to stay because you loved him. And if life had taught him anything, it was that no matter what happens, you fight. You keep fighting for the ones that mattered and the ones you loved. He wanted you to fight for him.

"No"

His eyes snapped open.

Her moans made him look down. He could feel her orgasm gripping on his cock, himself close enough to his. But once again, his mind played tricks, and the blond hair and blue eyes that belonged to the woman he had once loved were gone. He saw yours.

It hurt. His heart was in pain. The crushing reality of his feelings left him breathless. He was ready to accept them. He was ready to open Pandora's box.

"I love you," he whispered.

Your eyes looked back at him, and he saw them as they were in his dreams. They were loving him back.

His head lowered to your ear. "I love you. God, I fucking love you."

He couldn’t stop saying it. As soon as those three words left his mouth, he felt like he could breathe again. The burden he had been carrying for so long was finally lifted from his shoulders.

"I love you."

"I’ll never let you go, not again."

"I’m sorry. I love you."

"I love you."

"I have always loved you."

Then, your voice filled his ears and his heart.

"I love you too."

He came inside you. Your arms engulfed him in a hug, your legs rested on his hips as he tried to control his own breathing. His nose nuzzled your neck, and the warmth from your body felt like home.

Steve loved you. Deeply. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

But once the ecstasy of the moment left his body, the hands that drew circles on his back weren’t yours anymore. She didn’t smell like you. She wasn’t you. He didn’t love her anymore. He loved you.

He had always loved you.

A knock on your door surprised you. Your hands reached for your remote, pausing the movie you were watching. At first, you thought you had imagined it. It was late at night, and you weren’t expecting company. Bucky had told you he would be away for a couple of days as he had to go on a mission, and he was the only one who came to you this late at night. It was probably someone knocking on the neighbors' door, or the wind knocking over something.

But another knock on the door made you jump. Your heart rose to your throat. Who the hell was that? Their knocks were desperate, whoever was knocking surely had an emergency.

"I’m going! I’m going! Stop knocking on the fucking door." You yelled while putting your shoes on.

The constant sound of the knuckles hitting the door was getting on your nerves. With a strong pull, you finally opened the door, ready to yell at whoever was so inappropriately coming to your house so late at night.

"Hey."

It was Steve.

You froze for a second. Of all the people you imagined could be waiting behind the door, he was never an option that crossed your mind. Those blue eyes that you had once loved were staring back at you.

Steve was there. At your door.

Steve ‘The asshole’ Rogers.

You snapped out of it. The grip on your door tightened before you tried to close it on his face. His hand stopped you from doing it.

"Wait." Your body kept pushing against the door, although it probably felt like nothing to the dickhead of a super soldier that was outside your apartment. With a sigh, you let the door go, allowing it to be opened again.

"What do you want?" Your words sounded harsher than you intended too, but you didn’t back away from them. He deserved them after all.

"I— Can we talk?"

You should’ve closed the door in his face again. You should’ve told him to go fuck himself again, just like you had done many months ago. But the anger that consumed you back then was mitigated. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at all, but the defense mechanisms you had clung to were still telling you to run away. They were telling you he was only there to cause you pain.

But the man who had broken your heart wasn’t the same as the one who was standing in front of you. This Steve was tired, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. The small wrinkles around his eyes deepened too. And for some reason, he reminded you of how you looked eight months ago, the morning after the gala.

He had his heart broken.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to hear him.

The evil, vindictive side of you was curious about what had brought him to you in this state. Who had hurt him so badly that he had come with such urgency to your door in the middle of the night? But another part, the mature and healing part of you knew this conversation was due. You didn’t have to do this for him, but for yourself. There were still so many things left unsaid from your side, and, as Bucky had said, sometimes you need to get those things out to fully heal.

"Fine." you grunted.

Both of you were standing in your kitchen. The contrast of things were between you a year ago and how they were now almost made you laugh. A year ago you didn’t think anyone would make you as happy as Steve. Now, you didn’t think anyone could hurt you as much as him.

"How have you been?"

You chuckled at his superficial question. Of course he would try to start with small talk instead of going straight to the point.

"Good." You took a sip of your water. "You?"

He shrugged. "As good as I can be"

"Why are you here, Steve?"

Your question took him by surprise. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his hands fiddling with the bracelet he was wearing. After taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and looked you in the eyes.His nervousness made you nervous, forming knots in your stomach. His silence was making you spiral.

He apologized, as you knew he had been waiting for a long time.

"I’m sorry for hurting you. I wish I could go back in time and erase all of this. You didn’t deserve any of it."

"You were the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I’m sorry I was too stuck in the past to see it."

" I know you hate me, but you can’t hate me more than I hate myself for hurting you."

Hearing his words made you feel something. You didn’t want to admit it, but it felt good. You knew all of this, as you had made peace with yourself and decided that the only thing you were guilty of was staying. But deep down, hearing them was the last thing you needed to let go.

His words brought peace.

Until he opened his mouth again.

"I fell in love with you, I don’t know when or how, but one day I woke up and realized that I already loved you."

"I’ve loved you since the very beginning. I close my eyes and the only thing I can think about is you, the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you make me feel."

"I broke up with her. I couldn’t stay with her, not when it was you in my heart."

"I love you"

He said them. The words you had begged him to say for two years were finally directed at you. You expected to be overjoyed, even ecstatic, when this day arrived. You would finally be happy.

Who would’ve thought that words of love would bring so much pain?

His love wasn’t what you expected. You thought it would be comforting, warm, and welcoming. Instead, it burned you. It suffocated you. It drowned you, each time a little more, as he kept repeating his feelings for you.

Steve didn’t know how to love, he only knew how to cause pain.

"And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

Steve flinched. "I don’t—"

"You broke my heart. I loved you with everything I had, I gave you everything and more, and even then it wasn’t enough," you said, wiping away the tears that ran down your face. You didn't even realize you were crying. "You used me as a sort of emotional replacement while you were still in love with her. You fucked her minutes after you kissed me in front of everyone. And you said those awful things too." You couldn’t stop your words, the words that were never said. "Then you have the balls to call me nonstop, text me, send gifts, and even beg me to stay the day I left with Bucky while you were already back with her. And now, months later, you tell me you’ve loved me all along and broke up with your girlfriend? What kind of bullshit is that?"

You couldn’t stay there. Your kitchen now seemed to shrink as you felt the walls closing around you. This was too much. He was too much. You pushed past him, the main door calling your name as a lifesaver. "Leave, leave, leave," your brain kept repeating. This time, you listened to it.

A big hand stopped your escape.

"Don’t touch me." you hissed at him. The sadness in his eyes deepened with your words, but your sympathy for him was long gone. Now he was the victim?. ""God, do you know how bad you fucked me up?" You pushed him with all your strength. You wanted to slap him, you wanted him to feel how deeply he had reached your mind. How were you never going to really be able to get rid of him.

"I can’t even think of starting something new with someone else because all I can think of is what if?

What if one day he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t really love me, that he loves someone else?

What if he breaks my heart the same way you did it?

What if he doesn’t love me the same way I do?

And it’s all your fault."

The echo of your words was all that was left after your speech. You hated how easily he could make you lose control of your emotions, how easy it was for him to cut deep into you. You had forgotten the rollercoaster of emotions that meant having Steve in your life, and now that you were back in it you could say you didn’t miss it.

"It’s Bucky, isn’t it?"

Your head snapped back at him.

"What?"

"Your what if. It's him, isn’t it?"

She recognized the sound of heartbreak when she heard it. His voice was filled with it.

"Yes."

He took a step back as if you had slapped him. You could see all the signs, going from denial to painful acceptance. You wondered if he felt the same way you had felt when you saw them together. Given, you weren't fucking Bucky right in front of him, but in theory, everything was the same.He loved you, but you loved someone else.

"I’ll never get you back, will I?"

You wanted to chuckle, he still had hope. But for both your sakes, you had to extinguish that ray of hope. Honesty was all it took to kill it.

"I don’t think I could be with you without hating myself a little bit for it."

It took a couple of minutes for both of you to compose yourselves. Your apartment had seen a war where two hearts had been broken again and again, yet everything seemed to be in place. Steve cleared his throat, motioning towards the door.

"I think it’s better if I go now." You opened the door, stepping aside to let him walk out of your place. "I’ll see you around."

You were ready to close the door when Steve's voice called for you.

"You think we could ever be friends again?"

You gave him a sad smile. "We weren’t really friends to begin with."

This time, you closed the door without looking back. Your chest still hurt, and your eyes felt sore from all the crying. But amongst all the sadness that the memories brought back, you smiled.

You were finally free.

"Hey"

Bucky’s eyes lift up from the report he’s writing. His heart stammered in his chest before he could speak. You are standing at the office door in a black sweatshirt and pants. There were a couple of droplets of sweat running down the side of your face, and your breathing is irregular.

His first thought was that something bad had happened. He had just gotten back no longer than half an hour ago, he had texted you about his arrival, and your lack of response made him think you were busy. Something had to be wrong for you to run all the way here.

But the shy smile on your face and the excitement that radiates from you change his mind.

"Hey," he mutters, his mind not being able to come up with something more playful or flirtatious as he usually did.

There’s something different about you, though. There’s something new in the way you look at him and in the way you stand. For so many months, he had to see you bear this weight, this darkness that seemed to suffocate your soul. He had been able to pull away the darkness a couple of times, but as you stand right in front of him, you look as if it was never a part of you.

Bucky notices how it takes you a second to say something, they way your hands grip on the frame of the door and he could hear your heart fighting to break free from your chest.

"Is that dinner date still on the table?"

His heart stops.

"I—Yeah, it is."

You smile at him beautifully. Bucky thinks that he has never seen anything more mesmerizing than your smile.

"Good. Pick me up at seven."

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated!

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Requests are OPEN

Tag list: @captainson-of-coul @imyourbratzdoll @kneelforloki

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

Thank you so much❤️Im glad you enjoyed it and that this could make you feel so many things. I, myself, was so angry too when I was writing that scene of the woman opening the door I almost took it out haha

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

Content Warning: ANGST, heartbreak, cheating, mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Pussy job, penetrative sex p in v, sad/angry sex? Rough sex mixed with a little pain. It will make sense once you read it) . Fluff, mentions of bad mental health from both Bucky and reader, graphic violence, character's death, mentions of women trafficking as well as assault.

A/N: Wow 19k words. Im sorry this took so long to finish but as you can tell it is super long as I promised. Buckle up y'all, this is sad. Also this is my first time writing a proper cheating fic so if you can/want let me know if you like it or not. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now

"Fuck you," you spat the words.

Tears fell from your eyes as they made their way down your neck, making dark spots in the collar of your red turtleneck. Even when pain was drowning you, beauty never left you. Bucky felt as if he were watching a beautiful Renaissance painting—a tragedy of sorts.

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."

He didn’t recognize his own words or the indifference they came out with. He didn’t mean to say them, but it was as if his own body was working on autopilot, and he was only a spectator to the shitshow it was causing. He wanted to stop. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say so many things, but the only thing he was capable of was hurting you.

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"

"What else do you want me to say? You know what happened, you saw her with your own eyes. Anything I say is either going to make you angrier or make you cry even more. Let’s just be done with this, you’ll eventually get over it."

The sound of your hand connecting with his face put an end to his sentence. The hit didn’t feel as such, his skin barely processed it as anything more than a simple graze, but once the initial shock wore off, the sting came along. But it didn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart when his eyes connected with yours once again.

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."

Your eyes drifted to your hands, your right hand playing with the ring you wore in your left. A sigh left your lips, and more tears fell before you finally slid it off your finger, placing it on the table next to you.

A bucket of iced water. Painful, burning, scorching coldness— that’s how Bucky would describe looking at you while silently breaking your engagement. His mind was telling him to get on his knees, beg, and try to fix everything he had broken. But the darkest part of him, the one that had taken over his life was assuring him you were bluffing. You couldn’t leave, you always stayed. You always fought for him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.

Please, fix this.

His trembling hands made their way to your wrist, anything that could mend the cracks in your heart that seeped with pain, the cracks he had caused with his own selfishness. Before his fingers could even graze your skin, your hand quickly swatted away his pathetic effort to stop you.

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"

"Don’t fucking touch me."

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."

"Can you just—"

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."

Your words hurt, it seemed as though each one stabbed him right through the chest in a taunting way, a reminder of how much he had screwed up. Bile rose to his throat when you recoiled at his proximity, and the hate in your eyes burned him with such force that he was sure you wouldn't wait until the next time you met.

He deserved it either way.

Bucky's eyes opened just as the car jolted, his heart racing against his chest, his ears buzzing. For a fraction of a second, he's confused, not remembering why he was in the car, but the fogginess of his thoughts was replaced with anxiety when he heard the tracker beeping on Sam's thigh.

"Good, you’re awake. I think we’re almost there." Sam kept his eyes on the road, occasionally glancing down at the device that told him where to go. Judging by his demeanor, his friend didn’t seem as nervous as he did, if at all. It wasn’t like Sam had a reason to, he was the only one who had fucked up.

He looked out at the vehicle, and the passing trees in the darkness of the night numbed his mind while he tried to forget about his dream. No, it wasn’t a dream, it was his worst memory to date. Usually, his nightmares were about the crimes he had committed while being the Winter Soldier, and he could blame them on his consciousness not being there with him. His own body didn’t belong to him, so he couldn’t keep blaming himself for the things HYDRA had forced him to do.

With you, on the other hand, he could not blame anyone else but himself. His mind wasn’t tortured by a secret organization in hopes of ruining his relationship, nor was he forced to hurt the person about whom he cared the most to save thousands of lives. He did it all by himself, and now the nightmares have not only scared him but hurt him all over again.

You started to show up in his dreams more frequently once Sam told him they needed your help. As expected, the super-soldier's first reaction was total and complete refusal. His friend thought it was a childish reaction the former winter soldier was having to avoid the awkwardness of meeting you again, only knowing your relationship had ended on bad terms without hearing the specifics. But the blue-eyed man wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for you. The night you left, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with him, or even anything related to him, your resignation from the Avengers Team and subsequent evaporation from the face of the earth was a strong message to leave you alone.

After a few hours of arguing, with both men going back and forth on why they did or didn't need you, Bucky finally agreed to go look for you. Lives were at stake, and no matter how hard he tried to look for a solution that avoided you, there seemed to be none. Before he could ask where to even start looking for you, Sam pulled out a device that seemed familiar to a phone. You had given Sam, and only Sam, a tracker that could find you anywhere in the world and could only be unlocked by a password you had whispered to him

The depth of his tormenting cycle of thoughts didn’t let him register they weren’t on the road anymore until his partner stopped the vehicle. They were surrounded by tall, dense trees, and the crickets and cicadas that hid in the dark made an orchestra that filled the emptiness of the night. Sam grabbed his gear, the sound of a duffle bag being opened broke the rhythm of nature.

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.

His friend threw an annoyed look at him before rolling his eyes and scrambling through his belongings. "As I said like twenty minutes ago while you were brooding and having your own pity party, this thing shows her inside a building in the middle of the woods. I’d like to take a look around the area before going in blind."

"Oh."

Normally, the super soldier would’ve had a comeback for the annoying yet harmless insults his friend and partner would throw at him, even a snide comment. But this was different, no matter what Sam would say, he could only think of what was about to happen. So he let it slide, submerging himself in his own thoughts while Sam threw the little flying robot he nicknamed "Red Wing" into the air. Once it was hovering above them and Sam made sure to have full control of it, they began a walk that would last about thirty minutes before the device would find any signs of life.

Sam and him were waiting somewhere near the alleged building, Sam's robot scanning the surroundings.The thumping in his chest returned, and his fingers became ice cold.He was so close. Close enough to see you, close enough to talk to you, and perhaps close enough to apologize.

How would you react to seeing him? Would you be happy to see him? Probably not, considering the last thing you said to him was that you would kill him if he ever came near you. He knew he deserved it, but hopefully time changed your murderous resolution. Maybe even forgave him.

Could you ever forgive him?

A slight swat from Sam brought him back from his thoughts, silently letting him know they were ready to go. Bucky could sense it before the place was even visible, the vibrations of the music resonating through the ground. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and humanity reached his nostrils right as they saw the line of cars parked in a plain field next to what resembled a warehouse.

To an untrained eye, it would look like a normal, unsanitary, and probably unsafe rave done by stupid people. But the polarized windows of the cars, the shine coming from the inside of the guards' jackets, and the lot of security cameras installed in the building told another story. Whatever or whoever was in there was dangerous, and as usual, you had gotten yourself in the middle of it.

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He knew you couldn’t stay away from helping people, no matter how hard you tried. He saw the breadcrumbs, microscopic, little clues that he could recognize as your style. A missing girl suddenly returning to her family, a kidnapped journalist in the middle of war returning to their respective embassy. A child trafficker falling from his hotel room in the twentieth floor. You had always been... effective when it came to missions, sometimes going overboard with your methods, but Tony, Steve, and himself had always guided you towards the good and righteous path that a person with your abilities was supposed to take.

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.

They were lucky that it was relatively easy to get inside, and even luckier that their clothes didn't draw too much attention to them. Sure, they seemed to be wearing more clothes than needed, as most people seemed to enjoy themselves topless and/or pantless, but with the darkness of the room barely being lit by the flashing blue and red lights, no one really noticed them.

Guys, girls, and people he wasn’t sure how to label were grinding against each other. Hands touched him, pulling his jacket, and he had to push them all away, trying to make his way through the sea of people. The inside of the warehouse could pass for a functioning club, with couches, dance floors, and screens accommodating everyone inside.

Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen anything like this; the debauchery that people showed shocked his old-fashioned ways. He was sure he had seen several people inside each other, whether it was fingers, tongues, or dicks, no one seemed to mind that everyone else could see them. How had you gotten yourself into the middle of this disguised orgy? What were you even doing here?

Both men made their way to the front of the place, where a private section was installed looking over the dancefloor. Two large guys guarded the stairs that connected the lower and upper levels, allowing mostly attractive girls to ascend. Both men agreed that if you were to be found somewhere, it would undoubtedly be there. They scanned the room, looking for any way they could access the VIP level without having a pair of tits and long legs.

He had never understood scenes in movies where they showed time slowing down. Every time he had been in a fight, whether it was as himself in the forties or as the winter soldier, everything seemed to happen too fast to process. Even the night you left, time had seemed to go at an abnormally fast pace, and by the time he could finally react the way he wanted, it had been too late.

He never understood those scenes until he saw you walking to the protective railing surrounding the edge of the private section. Above the deafening music, the moans, and the music, he could hear your voice talking to someone else.

It was as if he was seeing you for the first time. Your beauty had remained the same your hair, your eyes, and your lips all looked the same, yet his heart started racing just as it did all those years ago. You weren’t dressed like everyone else dancing around him, your black dress with a dangerous deep cleavage was sensuous, but it held a certain level of class that made you stand out from the crowd.

Thump, thump, thump.

Time moved at a slow pace, the slowest he had experienced. He was grateful for it, as it allowed him to appreciate every detail from you. The way your lips came close to the drink you had in your hand, the drumming your fingers did on top of the railing, the glint in your eyes—he knew it meant you were lost in your thoughts.

Bucky had never been more grateful for the way time passed. Until he saw a pair of hands sliding across your waist, fingers gripping your hips so roughly, he was sure they would leave a mark on your skin. A semi-attractive man whispered words in your ear, his beard scruffing against your skin. You smirked, turning around to plaster your lips against his in a kiss that could make a pornstar blush.

He knew you'd moved on; nearly a year had passed since the last time he saw you, and you'd probably found someone to sleep with, but he wasn't ready to watch you become someone else's. His mind was prepared to face your happiness, but his heart wasn’t. And even now, he was sure you were just tagging along with the man, using him for information for whatever mission you had gotten yourself into, yet he felt as if what remained of his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.

The super soldier couldn’t take it anymore, his heart begged him to stop the torture. He wasn’t even sure where Sam was, nor did he care. He cared about you, and he could only think about what he had lost. With the last of his dignity, he began to look away from you and your companion, who had leaned over to your ear once more. Except this time his eyes found Bucky’s, his fingers tightening around your neck.

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.

Your eyes widen slightly, searching through the sea of people dancing downstairs. But it didn't take you long to find those blue eyes you once adored. He was there, looking exactly the same as the night you left him, along with your heart.

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.

But you couldn’t dwell long on his words because ice-cold eyes looked back at you. Ice cold eyes brought back the pain you thought you left behind, and the rage surfaced once more as you remembered the promises you made him.

Cold metal was pressed against your neck, the edge of it grazing your skin. Bucky’s eyes widened in alarm, and his hands turned into fists, making him look like he cared. Like he actually had a heart.

He barely took two steps in your direction when the wicked smile you wore stopped him. It was sinister. It was deadly. And when you turned to the man to say something, his grip faltered as one word left your lips.

"Good"

Your head connected against the man’s nose, a crack let you know it was most likely broken. You barely heard the man’s yells when bullets made their way to you, a couple of them grazing your skin. The room that was once filled with hips swaying, alcohol, and moans had transformed into a frenzy of screams and people running to get out of the building.

The crowd tried to take Bucky away; their desperate attempts at escaping dragged him away as he fought his way through the sea of people. Seconds passed, and he could hear your grunts as well as more shooting coming from the upper floor, with girls running down the stairs, some of them with splashes of blood staining their clothes.

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.

"Her cover is blown," was all the explanation Bucky offered, and somehow it was enough. Before any of them could add anything, screams came from the front door, three bulky men were making their way there while carrying very large and dangerous guns. "Take care of them, I’ll go help her," the super soldier said without leaving any room for discussion.

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.

You were there, your black dress ripped in some places, your makeup ruined by mascara running down your cheeks, and blood splashes tainted your flawless skin. Bucky had managed to get there just in time as you twisted a man's arm to an unnatural angle, the crack of his joint popping out of place was followed by his screams. You had managed to kill/knock out everyone except for the guy who had previously had a knife to your throat, and Bucky knew better than to think that was just a mere coincidence.

After the last man fell to the ground, blood sputtering out of his neck, you lifted your gaze towards him. He couldn’t read you as easily as he had once been able to and he hated it. Before, he was sure he knew you better than you knew yourself, more than once already sure of your likes and dislikes before you asked him for an opinion. He had treasured those times in his mind, and the memories were as comforting as they were painful. A constant reminder of what he had lost.

He was right there, right in front of you. The man you fell in love with when you still had a heart. The man who still had a tight grip on it and who would probably always own it. He could keep it for all you cared, your heart was tainted with memories you didn’t wish to keep.

It was the first time both of you were this close, every scream gone as you were absorbed by your own bubble. He looked so familiar that your own body reacted the way it used to whenever you saw him. Your heart stammered in your chest, and even after so long, the butterflies in your stomach appeared for a millisecond. He was the man you had once loved, he was the man with whom you imagined a future together.

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.

Bucky noticed the hurt flashing through your face, your jaw tightening right before you made your way to him. For a moment, he thought you were about to hug him, your desperation to reach him in your long strides mirroring his as his body begged him to touch you. He wanted to apologize, beg for forgiveness at your feet, and profess the love that he wasn’t able to forget.

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.

The force and unexpectedness of your attack launched him back to the railing, throwing him over it. His back landed with a loud thud on the floor, fortunate enough for him, everyone else seemed to have dissipated and his fall wasn’t that high up. A second later, you jumped from the banister, landing on top of him with your knife in hand. Your knee found it’s place on his chest, feet pressing his hands flat on the surface. Before Bucky could even muster a word, the blade was pinned against his throat.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."

Then

Steve had changed so much in the years they had spent apart. His friend, who had once been the fragile little Brooklyn boy he would protect with his life, was now a fully grown man with a strength that could crush a person if he wasn’t careful enough. He was also now his protector, not from bullies that would harass him because of his own stubbornness but from a secret organization that wanted to take over the world. That and his own fractured mind.

He had lost control once the man had given him the commands to bring back the deadly assassin they had turned him into. He remembered it all, but it had felt as if he was under water the whole time, falling deeper and deeper the more he tried to fight against it. His own body didn’t belong to him, no matter how hard he tried to control it.

For a year, he had thought it was possible to lead a normal life; his time spent in Romania had given him false hope that he had gotten away from his captors. How foolish he had been, thinking he could ever be far away from his grasps. He wasn’t the man he was before, just a weapon designed to hurt people.

He supposed he was lucky Steve still saw good in him, at least enough to turn against his teammates and friends to help him clear his name. And now, as they drove to one of Steve’s friends' hideouts, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about everything that was going on. If he hadn’t lost control, Steve wouldn't be a wanted criminal. If he wasn’t captured, a shit ton of innocent, good people would still be alive. If his mind had been stronger, he could’ve broken free of HYDRA's mind control.

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.

Steve parked outside an abandoned apartment complex, it seemed no one had lived there in years. He threw a questioning eyebrow at Sam, who just shrugged before getting out of the vehicle. Another of Steve’s friends had decided to help him out of loyalty to Steve, not because he particularly liked Bucky or entirely believed in his good side.

All three men walked inside the building, not a sound inside other than their footsteps and heavy breathing. Steve looked around for a couple of seconds before making his way to the second floor, his intuition telling him where to go. He stood in front of a door with a big C plastered on it, his friend's hand hesitating before knocking on the wood.

After the third knock came back without an answer, Steve decided to open the door. He had called a name while crossing the threshold, looking around for any signs of life inside the apartment. Bucky was surprised to find the apartment filled with computers, blueprints, documents, and lots of military-grade equipment. Everything gave away the signs of someone working there, yet there was no one who took ownership over them.

It was too late when Bucky heard you standing behind him, with his feet being swept by your leg and effectively knocking him down. The wooden floor amplified the echo of his fall, catching Steve and Sam’s attention. Your frame landed on top of his, gun aimed directly between his eyes.Bucky's hand reached to grab your ankle in an effort to destabilize you, but the barrel of your weapon was pressed right on his forehead.

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Maybe it was only your physical beauty that had taken him by surprise, or the fact that you had taken him down so easily with just one leg movement. Or even the fact that you seemed to have no fear towards a man who was being marketed as a "dangerous and armed terrorist." Whatever it was, Bucky couldn’t deny the fact that you were the most beautiful human being he had seen.

After a few explanations from Steve’s part and some begging for help, you released the super soldier from your hold, weapon holstered in your back. Your hand extended to help him get off the floor, and you offered him a charming but wary smile.

You told the three men to make themselves at home and take anything they needed. Bucky had chosen to keep guard, being by himself in the top floor while looking out through a window that hid him from everyone else. He was stewing in his own complicated thoughts when he heard a knock on the wall. You were there, standing a few feet away from him with a shy smile on your face as you extended to him a cup filled with hot coffee.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.

His fingers accidentally grazed against your own, and it was as if he had touched electricity itself. Heat extended from his hands all through his body, and his ability to think was thrown out of the window. He looked at you, and he couldn’t tell if you felt the same or not, but he could feel how your eyes burned him, with a curiosity behind them that was so easy to read that he was surprised you were the black ops/spy Sam had told him.

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.

He turned to look through the window again, trying to keep his thoughts in order. You settled down next to him, the warmth of your skin reaching his own. Nothing could be heard other than your breathings, not even the cars outside or the sound of the busy city that hid you. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt relaxed with someone he didn’t know from the past.

"I’m James."

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.

Now

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"

The music was still on, as were the blue and red lights that lighted up the darkness in the room. Bucky could feel the breeze of your breath on his face and the smell of expensive whisky and tobacco in every word you said. He wasn’t surprised, the man that you knocked out probably tried to impress you with them.

But behind the traces of blood, alcohol, and gunpowder, he could smell your shampoo. The same peony smell mixed with lavander filled his nostrils, and it brought him back to the many nights you had spent together. Your fingers were drawing circles on the skin of his back, and his nose was buried in your hair.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.

Your hand pressed the edge of the blade on his skin, and you were sure if you kept going you were going to start drawing out blood, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky Barnes had always been an expert at instilling unwanted emotions in you, and it was difficult to keep those emotions at bay right now.

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."

Your words were intimidating, filled with the same promise you had made him that fateful night. This was his chance, his chance at the apology that had died out in his throat when you closed the door behind him. This was the chance he had chased in his dreams for almost a year.

But he couldn’t say anything.

He loved you. God, he loved you so much. He missed seeing your face other than in the few pictures he kept or in the memories that did no justice. Because even now, as you threatened to kill him, you were a dream come true, just like the first time he saw you.

"Say something!"

"You’re beautiful."

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.

No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t come back out of nowhere, say some cheesy, basic compliment, and make the walls of hate you had built crumble. Even if he had only managed to knock down one brick, he didn't deserve it. You knew it, he knew it, and everyone else who knew what happened between you two knew it.

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."

You look back at Bucky for a few seconds before giving up, throwing your knife to the floor. Sam leaned over, his hand extended to help Bucky get up.Your murderous eyes went from Bucky to Sams, your gaze softening at his friend.

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.

A hiss left your lips when you touched your arm, one of the bullet wounds was still seeping blood. Bucky thought about telling you something, but this time he listened to the rational part of his brain that told him to shut the fuck up.

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.

Your eyes flickered between both men, not convinced about helping them. Well, on helping the blue eyed super soldier. A pathetic excuse for why you couldn’t help them died on your lips once you saw his blue eyes. Please, help us they begged.

You didn’t owe him anything. You shouldn’t help him, but in the back of your head, Steve’s voice rang through. Good ol’ Steve Rogers and his everlasting moral lessons. That's what we have to do, he said.

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You sighed.

"We’re looking into something... odd. A bunch of pregnant women missing, still in their early stages of pregnancy. Most of them show up dead after giving birth, but the babies are nowhere to be found."

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"

It was cold, you were aware of it. But after the things you had seen, the things you had done, you were aware that people kidnapping woman for their babies wasn’t something out of the ordinary, let alone something that required Captain America to look into it. Things like that were always forgotten, pushed back into a slew of cases alongside more missing women.

"They had traces of the super serum."

Fuck.

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.

"Well, you’re in luck. I think we’re tracking down the same people." Sam raised an eyebrow at you with a simple request for you to elaborate. "A girl showed up dead in México a couple of months ago, she’d been missing for almost a year. Autopsy showed she had a miscarriage before dying, the bleeding killed her. The remains had traces of the serum too."

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.

"Yeah."

The air is somber between the three of you. Sure, the flag smashers were a problem when they appeared, as you knew from all the news reports you'd seen.People with ten times the strength of a normal human being were dangerous, especially if they were associated with a terrorist organization.

This was different, though. This was sinister.

Groans coming from the top floor broke the eeriness that surrounded you, making you finally remember why you were here. You tore apart part of the black dress that was once pristine and wrapped it around your arm.

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."

"Well, let’s take him in and—"

You cut Sam off. "No. Look, you came looking for me because this is my specialty. I know how to handle guys like him, and I sure as hell know he won’t tell us shit if we take him to a precinct and threaten him with some jail time. He’s a big fish. A few phone calls and he’ll be out in no time." They knew you were right, but they didn’t like your arguments. "We do this my way, or you better pray you find them before I do."

Sam looked hesitant. He knew what you were going to do to the man, and his good conscience chastised him for even thinking of letting you torture someone. But the rational part, the part that knew that in this case there wasn’t much of an option, knew that they needed you, and perhaps you also needed them.

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.

Compromise. You could do compromise.

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.

After Sam slammed the door shut on his way out, you were reminded of the fact that you weren't alone. Bucky’s eyes were already looking at you, the same apologetic eyes you had seen before you kicked him in the chest.

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.

"Let’s make something clear, I’m not doing this for you." you spat. "I’m doing this because Sam needs my help and so we can save those innocent girls and stop any more from being taken. This doesn’t change anything between us, as soon as this is over, you go back to leaving me the fuck alone, got it?"

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.

So he agreed.

"Yeah."

"Good. I’ll meet you outside."

Then

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.

Droplets of water fell from his forehead, a strand of unruly black hair was hanging on the side of his eyebrows. The towel that hung from his waist, showing his torso all the way down to that sculpted V of his abdomen, made it too difficult to concentrate on the files you were trying to organize.

The man was hotter than the sun.

"No problem." you smiled at him.

You had no idea it would be the best and worst decision you'd ever made when you suggested Bucky stay with you while Steve went to rescue the others.You liked Bucky, and the few days you spent with him while Steve and the others gathered everything they needed so they could go find Zemo had been nice. Sure, he was a man of a few words, but it didn’t bother you. It was weirdly comforting to be able to enjoy someone’s company in silence. And the times he spoke, he did it out of pure curiosity, curiosity about the world, about what had happened while he was in the ice, but mostly about you.

He asked about your cases, how you met Steve, and how you came to partner with some of the most powerful people in the world. He asked about your life, about your childhood in the orphanage, and what made you choose to help people. He asked so many questions, yet he still respected you when you didn’t want to answer some of them. He asked, not to pry, but to get to know you, and in return, when you asked him something, he was as honest as he felt comfortable being.

And that was the problem. No matter how much you tried, you knew your days with Bucky Barnes were numbered. Ever since you were young, you knew that being in this line of work would prevent you from having a normal life. You couldn't have a normal relationship. You weren’t meant to have the love story your favorite movies portraited, the white picket fence and the family of five wasn’t in your future.

Neither was he, maybe in the forties he would’ve came home from war and found himself a pretty girl to marry. But now, after everything he had seen and everything he had unwillingly done, he probably wouldn't want a relationship any time soon. Or maybe not at all.

But after three weeks of being cramped up in the same little apartment, you were getting used to him. You had developed a little routine together that always ended up with a cup of coffee at the end of the day. Sometimes both of you would just sit in silence, taking in each other's company while you sipped on your cups. Other times, just like now, he would sit next to you as you watched whatever movie you had decided to put on.

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."

"I know." You finished for him, suddenly placing your hand on top of his. He tensed at your touch, both of you looking down at your hands before you took away yours, embarrassed at your own lack of control. "Well, if you’re not too busy there, I could go visit you sometimes."

"You would?" he questioned.

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.

He looked at you, his thoughts unreadable through his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to reject your offer, but something changed in his eyes. He smiled, the faintest, littlest hint of a smile you had seen, but it was there.

You made him smile for the first time.

"Yeah. I’d like that."

If someone were to ask Bucky when he first felt he could love you, it would be right now. With the dim light of the TV lighting up your face and a shy smile on your lips as you told him you were willing to travel such a long distance just to see him.

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.

Now

There were drops of water leaking out of a pipe, he could hear them from the other side of the room. Everything around him was dark, it seemed the only source of light was on top of him and the woman on the floor pleading for her life.

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."

He wanted to move, he wanted to throw away the gun in his hand, but it was like he was a spectator of his own life. His body was not his, or his breathing. Not even his heartbeat listened to the inner panic attack he was having. Nothing belonged to him.

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion. His finger moved, pressing the trigger of the gun, but he refused to give up. He had to try, even if his own consciousness was trying to kick him out, sucking him into the pool of darkness he had been resting in for a long time.

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.

Broken.

He could only witness how the other "him" obeyed. The woman's eyes changed from scared to lifeless in less than a second. A splash of crimson staining his combat boots kept his attention. He couldn’t hear what the other people in the room were saying, he didn’t exist anymore, or he didn’t want to. The sound of the water leak was deafening now. Growing louder and louder until it consumed everything around him

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.

"Bucky!"

Bucky's eyes opened wide. His head was spinning, his breathing was rapid, and his heart felt like it was going to burst through his chest. The adrenaline in his system made him dizzy, and he could feel his hands shaking. And he was feeling. A lot. Scared, angry, hopeless. So many emotions constricted his chest, burying him under their weight.

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

Your feet almost moved. A pure protective instinct filled you with dread at the fact that you couldn’t help him anymore. Your head and your heart were in conflict. In one hand your heart begged you to go to him, stroke his back as you peppered kisses along his shoulder. Then you would lie back in bed while your hands surrounded his body, your front pressed to his back in a way to say, I’m here, I love you, and everything will be alright.

On the other hand, your brain told you to turn in the other direction. Walk away from the night terrors that plagued his mind and let him suffer in silence. He wasn't your responsibility anymore, and you shouldn't be concerned about helping him with whatever was wrong with him.

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn’t."

You sat at the table in front of the couch he was lying on, a steaming cup of lavender tea between your hands. The cling of the spoon clashing against the ceramic filled the uncomfortable silence between you.

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."

"Oh."

Whatever else he was about to say died on his lips. You noticed he seemed to do that often since meeting again, his eyes speaking the words he would never say. Sometimes you would catch him looking at you, the frown on his forehead deepening with the passing of time. It made you wonder if he would now be open to answering your questions.

"He said you’re going to therapy."

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."

You hummed, sipping on your tea.

"Does it work?"

You saw the hesitance in his eyes. The way his jaw clenched and his grip on the couch made his knuckles white made you think he was about to change the subject with a witty, bitter, or sarcastic remark, or maybe even just ignore the question at all. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, by the end of your relationship, he was an expert in it.

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself

But he broke the silence.

"In some ways." he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The nightmares don’t come as often anymore, and I don’t feel the need to shoot every asshole that drives a shitty car with a shitty exhaust pipe." You chuckled at his confession, making a slight smirk show on his face. "But she’s too much."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed. "She pisses me off. I hate that she keeps trying to make me feel better by just saying my life is better now and I shouldn’t feel like shit anymore. But it’s not that easy. Just like it’s not easy to follow the stupid set of rules she gave me."

He looked up to see your reaction to his words, expecting to see the same hardened look you’ve given him the past couple of weeks. And it was just that what greeted his eyes, your lips slightly pressed together and your eyes decorated with a slight scowl that only showed up for him.

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."

He laughed. The type of laugh that caught him off guard and made his lungs run out of air. Granted, your joke might’ve not been as funny as his laugh was giving it credit for, but he had always been fond of your bluntness.

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.

Laughing with Bucky felt foreign yet so familiar at the same time. It felt like reminiscing on a memory you didn’t remember you had, a bittersweet memory that brought back the same good feeling of the memories you built together

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.

You didn’t go right away to the room you had adopted as your own, though. He heard you going through the kitchen, a dim sound of clinking and pouring reaching him due to his enhanced hearing. He didn't think anything of it; maybe you needed more tea before going to bed.

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.

A cup of lavender tea.

Then

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"

Bucky jolted at the sound of your voice, your presence taking him by surprise. He was completely sure that when he left a couple of hours ago his house was empty and you hadn’t sent a message of your arrival.

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?

His questions died on his lips as you cut the space between you and him short, your arms tightly embracing him. Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, his long hair falling on your face. His hands took a second to respond, but they eventually wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest.

You stayed like that for what felt like ages, just taking in each other's warmth. He missed you, even if he tried to deny it every time his thoughts would wander to you. He tried to convince himself that his reclusion made him miss everyone he considered a friend, and in a world where everyone seemed to want him dead, you were one of the few people he trusted.

He had been staying in Wakanda for nearly six months, and out of those six months, you had visited him at least once every month. The duration of your trip would vary, sometimes you would stay only a few hours, with most of your time spent in his hut while sharing stories of the outside and his progress. Other times, you'd stay for days, with the longest stay being a week and a half. In those cases, he would show you the surroundings, the forest that surrounded the back of his hut or take you on a long walk alongside the river that crossed his home. Sometimes you'd sit outside and stare at the stars, your only company being the animals and the flora.

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.

One of his hands landed on the side of your hips, the other searching for your face.Your grip on him grew tighter once his fingers brushed the skin on your face but you eventually let go, allowing his hand to guide you slightly away from him.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond, but one look into your eyes, and he knew the answer. Whatever it was, it had affected you to the core, the broken look in your eyes could only be compared to the one he saw every time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.

"It’s ok. I got you."

His hand found yours as he guided you toward his bed. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you still had your tactical gear on, dirt and crystals still hiding in some places. He grabbed the buckle of your vest, his eyes asking for permission to get it off. A slight nod gave him the confirmation, beginning the process of somewhat freeing you of the events you had seen. He got rid of his own garments too, leaving you both standing in front of yourselves with only underwear covering you. He dragged you into bed, your frames covered by the light white sheets on his bed.

Not many times had he allowed himself to think of you in a sexual manner, knowing how his body would react in a lustful way. But as he found himself looking at you with barely any clothes on, the desire was left on the back burner of his brain. You needed him. You needed his comfort, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

He would give you anything you asked for.

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."

So you lay there, head against his chest, as he kept you between his arms, with nothing other than the sound of the crickets outside his hut surrounding you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt what being loved felt like.

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.

Now

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.

Bucky dropped Sam on the table. The man had gone unconscious on the ride to the safe house, the bullet wound that oozed liquid crimson was most likely the cause.The same crimson color now stains Bucky's clothes, and his leather gloves were also covered in a thin layer of it.

You brought your knife to slash through his clothes, the sharp metal cutting through them as if they were butter. The hole on his shoulder seemed to have no exit, the bullet was still inside him. You were glad Sam wasn’t conscious for the next hour.

The super soldier hovered over you for the entirety of the time you spent cleaning through the fragments that splintered from the bullet. Everything went relatively well until Sam started waking up, his body contorting in pain as you dug through his wound. Bucky brought him a bottle of vodka while you injected him with some local anesthesia.

Hours later, the wounded man was now resting on the only bed the safehouse had, his breathing bringing great comfort as it meant he was still alive. After half a bottle of vodka and a some painkillers diluted on his IV, you were sure he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow.

The faucet sprayed cold water onto your palms. Your nails desperately tried to scrape away the traces of blood that still lingered in your skin, leaving red marks all across your knuckles. Dirt and dried blood were trapped underneath your fingernails, and no matter how much you tried to dig it out, it would stay right there.

Bucky’s footsteps brought you out of your trance, the heavy sound of his combat boots felt deafening with each step he took. You tried to tune him out, focusing once again on the sound of water, but it seemed as if Bucky had made it his purpose to be as loud as possible. You held onto the sink so strongly that you were sure it would snap.

A deep rage came from your stomach, spreading all over your body. The anger constricted your chest in such a way that you weren’t sure if somehow you were buried under a collapsed building, its weight invisibly crushing you.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.

"I—"

"I gave you one task. You had to wait until I gave you the signal so you could come in. Not guns blazing, not punching everyone that comes your way, not drawing everyone's attention to us. Your only fucking job was to wait for the distributor to show up and wait for my goddamn signal."

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.

You were taken aback by his response. Part of you expected him to just let you scream at him and give you the same soft eyes he always gave you when you spoke to him.You weren't expecting him to snap back at you or to defend himself.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."

"He was about to torture you!"

Bucky's thoughts returned to the old factory turned whorehouse.The way you had purposefully gotten caught and how they had tied you to an exposed pipe line. He could still hear the sound of the man’s hand smashing against your cheek.

"I can handle myself! I told you guys to stay put until the distributor was there. He knows I’m after him, and this was our only chance to catch him. And now he’s god knows where and Sam got fucking shot."

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"

"I’ve always cared."

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.

"Sure."

Perhaps it was the fact that you had been in danger no longer than a couple of hours ago, or maybe it was the heat of the fight that had left some residues on him. Whatever it was, it made Bucky courageous enough to reach for your arm.

"Look at me."

You swatted him away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."

A bitter laugh came out of you. All of this had to be some sick joke. "When you care about someone, you don’t treat them like that. You didn’t care about me, and you sure as hell didn’t love me."

His hand tried to touch you again, and this time you let him. You were tired. Tired of fighting with him. You closed your eyes as soon as his skin came in contact with yours, his touch consuming all of your senses.

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."

His words burned you like someone had branded you with hot iron in the chest.Even after all this time, he could still hurt you, Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Why did he have to bring back the past you so fiercely tried to leave behind?

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."

"I never stopped loving you."

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.

With a quick move, you pulled his hand away from you, your hands pushing against his chest until he hit the wall. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to carve his heart out of his ribcage and throw it far away, maybe then he would understand what it felt like.

"Where was your love when I needed it, huh? Where was your love when I had no one else? Where was your love when I reached for you every night but you were already gone? Where was your love when I begged you to love me, to be there for me?" Your hands were clutching his jacket, and your vision was blurred by tears."Where the fuck was your love when you brought that girl to your apartment?"

Bucky never saw you like this, not even when he stomped on your heart with his indifference. Under the anger, the hate, and the surface indifference you showed him, he could see how broken you were. He could see how you were constantly struggling to put the pieces of yourself back together that he had torn apart.

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.

"I’m sorry."

A lapse of judgment.

That’s what you would tell anyone who asked you why you kissed Bucky that night. You would say that you had been blinded by the pure rage his mere presence would bring you. Or perhaps you would take the easy route and you would say that with everything that happened that night, almost being tortured and Sam getting hurt, you had acted in a primitive instict of searching comfort.

The truth was different. You could lie to yourself and say that you didn’t needed Bucky, not after all the things he had done. You lied to yourself constantly when you told yourself you were over him. You also lied to yourself when you claimed that your one-night stands had fulfilled you in the same way that Bucky had.

You couldn’t feel anything, not ever since you walked out of his apartment. You had tried different people, different cities. You had tried different alcohols and different drugs. You had tried anything that could help you fill the emptiness that had found a permanent home inside you. You felt nothing, not until you saw those cerulean eyes again.

Your kiss was aggressive, your lips smashing against his with strength and your hands finding their place in the back of his head. It took a second for Bucky to kiss you back as he thought his mind was playing tricks with him. But after you pressed yourself against his chest, his body reacted on muscle memory alone, his arms surrounding your waist.

It wasn’t what you expected, though. You thought that the specks of love that remained between you would be enough to bring back whatever it was that you were missing. Instead, you were met with the most intense hatred you've ever felt, mixed with the melancholy of what could've been.

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.

So you made a decision.If you couldn't bring yourself to love Bucky Barnes anymore, you would hate him with all that remained of your soul. You would hate him until both of you burned in the flames of your agony. You'd despise him until you'd ripped every part that matched the ones he'd so easily broken.

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."

Your words were daggers to his heart. His chest tightened, and his grip on you faltered for a second before he snapped out of it. This wasn’t about him. If you needed to tell him how much you despised him, he would gladly let you kill him with your words. It was the least you deserved.

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.

He felt your body guiding him through the room until the back of his legs hit against the couch where he would sleep. Your hands pushed against his chest, making him sit on the couch while you straddled his lap.

Clothes flew across the room, and you found yourself tearing his shirt apart in two while he only pulled yours off.You'd worry about that later; right now, nothing was more important than feeling your skin against his.

Your hands traveled over his chest, fingers grazing every part of his abdomen as you trailed down to his zipper. You palmed him over his jeans, his cock already hard, and you felt it twitch against the fabric with every touch you gave him. Groans left Bucky’s lips.

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.

He shouldn’t make you feel this way, but as you see his head going back when your hand opened his fly and found it’s place around his cock you felt your own desire pooling in your lower belly and the aching in your core became unbearable.

With swift movements, Bucky got rid of his pants and his underwear while you remained on top of him. With your frame still covered by a black lace bra and your black tactical pants on, he couldn't help but feel exposed when he looked at you.Deciding he didn’t wanted to be the only one naked his hands went to the side of your hips in efforts to get you rid of the fabric but your hand swatted him away.

Beg me, your eyes said.

For a moment, he considered tearing your pants apart the same way you had done with his shirt. However, the seriousness behind your eyes warned him that he might end things too soon if his stubbornness got in the way. So he gave in.

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."

You relented, unbuttoning your pants and throwing them away with your panties. In what were the longest seconds of Bucky’s life, you unclasped your bra, finally getting rid of the last barrier your body held on to.

You stood there, completely naked, staring at Bucky.He remembered the way your breasts felt when he held them. He remembered how soft your skin was. He remembered that if he bit on the skin of your neck, right where the jugular is, you would clench around him. He remembered. In the lonely nights when he needed some release, he would close his eyes and imagine your lips around his cock as he fisted himself in the solitude of his apartment.

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.

His cock twitched once your legs fell to his sides, the heat of your body settling on his crotch. You sat on top of him, your wetness welcoming him once you lowered yourself. His length placed itself right between your lips, and a groan left him.

"Fuck."

Your hips began rocking in slow but sharp motions as he felt his cock coated with your slick. Slowly, you built up a rhythm that made both of you moan. His hands landed again on your hips, his fingers pressing on your skin in a way that was certain to leave bruises the next day. Your own hands gripped on Bucky’s biceps for stability, and you squeezed them every time you would feel him brushing against your clit.

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.

It was your eyes. Your eyes never left him, no matter how much pleasure you were pulling from both of you and how badly you wanted to roll your eyes as the coil inside of you tightened. Your eyes, which once showed him what love could look like, now looked at him with a simmering hatred he could not shake.

His chest tightened at the thought of never seeing them again. The electricity that ran through his body was replaced by a deep sense of hopelessness, and the more he kept his gaze on you, the more it amplified. You must’ve sensed the change in him because your movements stopped.

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.

You pulled him back for a kiss that tasted of desperation and sorrow as tears fell from both your eyes. The saltiness of the tears bled into the kiss and mixed with it.Quickly, your hand guided his tip to your entrance. You needed him inside you like a person lost in the desert needs water. You craved him with every cell in your body, and it tore your heart apart.

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.

The stretch of his length burned as you forced yourself to take him fully. It hurt, and even with your arousal completely covering him, you weren't prepared to take his thick length.You didn’t care though, you hoped it would make you forget your heartbreak. Bucky tried to stop you as he felt you struggling to take him in. His hands held your waist, but you shook your head before you started bouncing on him.

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.

Bucky’s pace was brutal, his cock hitting the sweet spot only he could reach. The sound of his hips colliding with yours filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the hallway outside.In the back of his mind, Bucky was thankful Sam was knocked out with meds so he could be spared from the obscene orchestra your bodies played.

The pain quickly turned into pleasure. Your walls hugged him tightly, each thrust carried a strength that left you breathless. At some point your legs had given in, the only reason why you kept bouncing was the snap of his hips pushing you. He didn’t let go of you though, instead he pushed you against his chest in an embrace that surrounded you tightly.

Your head rested against his while your hands stayed on his chest. The sadness that mixed with the pleasure numbed everything else except for the bubbling up of your release. It pained you to admit that no one else could make you feel like Bucky, you had tried to find someone who could replicate what his touch could do for you, but no one ever came close.

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.

"I wish you would’ve stayed dead." you panted. The poison behind your words shredded his heart. He knew you were saying it to hurt him, he knew you didn’t mean it, but the conviction behind it felt like a kick in the chest. "I wish we never brought you back."

"Me too." he finally admitted.

Bucky felt your walls constrict around him, and he could tell you were close. He drew you in for one last kiss, the kind that took your breath away. The type of kiss that was a solace in a world of agony. The type of kiss that meant a promise that carried forever.

You tightened around him as you came, and his thrusts slowed down as he rode you through your high. As you closed your eyes, more tears fell from the corners, so he reached out to wipe them away.Once you had recovered a little, his brutal pace came back, this time chasing his own release. You brought your lips to kiss his neck, feathery, soft kisses, and he felt his balls tightening. He was so close.

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.

"Inside."

He came harder than he had done in the last year. You felt his cock twitching inside as he covered your walls with his cum, the mess between your release and his own dripping out of you. You kept bouncing on top of him, making sure to return the favor by guiding him all the way through the end.

You stood up, the feeling of emptiness making you shudder when his cock left you, and his cum started leaking out of you. You turned to go find something to clean yourself up, but his metal hand stopped you. He guided you back to the couch before he walked towards the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back with a towel, and he positioned himself right between your legs.

He cleaned you up just like he had done for so many years before.His other hand caressed your thigh as he made sure to wipe everything. And just as he always did for years, once he finished, he kissed your inner thigh, a couple of inches away from your pussy.

Bucky threw the towel to the floor, he would worry about it in the morning.As for right now, the only thing he wanted was to hold you close. So he did. He thanked the couch was big enough to fit you both as you layed together. He pulled the blanket he used to warm himself every night over you, and his arm surrounded your waist, his grip making your back settle against his front. His left hand traced lazy circles over your stomach while the other was used as your pillow.

For a few seconds, both of you allowed yourselves to reminisce in the past. He kissed the top of your head as you snuggled against him like you usually did. And as you felt his warmth behind you and inhaled his scent, everything seemed to be alright once again.

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."

Then

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.

It wasn’t all bad, though. For many years you had been together, three and a half to be exact, where you could imagine a life with. Three years where there was no one you trusted more or preferred to be with.Three years that were the happiest of your life.

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.

You had told yourself at the beginning that you couldn’t get attached to him for the safety of your heart. It didn’t matter that his touch felt like home or that during the times you spent apart, his eyes would be the only comfort you would find in your dreams. He would bring more heartbreak than love.

Oh, how right you had been.

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.

The snap came and took him away from you. One second he was standing next to you, the next he was turning into dust that flew into the wind. The last thing he had said was your name and after that half the population was gone.

The years went by in a blur. Between nights filled with drugs and alcohol and days spent cramped up in your apartment, you were wallowing in the type of sadness that the rest of the population could understand. You kept your ring in your finger, it reminding you that what your memories craved for were real.

Bucky had been real.

With his departure, he had also taken your heart.

After a particularly bad night where you crashed your vehicle into a contention bar, Tony had taken it upon himself to help you, offering you a home close to his secluded one. You took it, not because you wanted to get better but because you wanted solitude. But if life had taught you anything about Tony Stark, it was that he was as stubborn as they come.

Every morning he would bring you breakfast along with a visit from a certain little baby that always wanted to be held by you, and sometimes she would be able to bring a small smile to your face. With time, the little baby turned into a little girl that would ask for a sleepover every once in a while, and you would gladly accept the offer to allow Tony and Pepper a night alone.

Things got better. You visited Steve and Natasha at the compound and even allowed yourself to go in missions of your own, as it turned out not even The Snap could make criminals take a break. You even went to one of Steve’s depressing support group meetings, never returning for the next one.

You couldn’t be strong all the time, though. Some nights, when the pain was so strong that it drowned you and the grief was too powerful to keep at bay, you would find yourself staring at the hundreds of pictures you had taken of him. Most of them were of you together, but there were a few you took when he wasn’t looking. The sunset behind him as he breathed in the clean air of Wakanda, or the small smile on his face as he tasted the food he cooked for you both.Even when he was reading some of the books he kept under his bed and a few wrinkles would show on his forehead as his whole focus remained in the text, he always looked beautiful.

With time, everything felt like a routine. Waking up alone, eating alone, going outside alone. Sleeping alone. Everything seemed to be stable, not good or bad, but just stable. You were sure this was the best you could do, or at least the best it could get.

That is, until a ray of hope appeared.

Time travel was the answer. Taken as a whole, it seemed like something out of a science fiction film, but it made sense.Bring the stones back and along with them everyone that had died. Surprisingly, it had worked, everyone that had been snapped away came back just as they had left. It should have been a moment of joy. It should've.

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.

Steve left shortly after.

You understood him. You understood why he left everything and everyone behind to go live a life with the woman he had always loved. You would be a liar if you said you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in his position. You understood why he did it but it still hurt to know you weren’t enough of a reason to stay and live a life together.

It seemed like you were on a streak of losing people. Wherever you turned, more people kept leaving your life. Wanda was gone, turned into the madness that grief could bring. Thor left to save other planets that needed him. Bruce... well, you weren’t sure where Bruce was, but he didn’t try to contact you.

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.

This Bucky didn’t kiss you with the same tenderness he did so many years ago. Instead, he'd barely move his lips once yours touched his in what you'd call a mediocre peck.He also never initiated a kiss, it was you who always reached out for him.

This Bucky didn’t held you at night. Instead, he'd turn around, his back to you, and even if you reached for him between dreams, he'd guide your hand back to your side of the bed.Some nights, he would even choose to sleep on the floor of the living room when he thought you were asleep. It was as if the thought of touching you seemed appalling to him.

This Bucky never hugged you.

This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.

This Bucky never said I love you.

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.

But you held hope, foolishly. Every day you tried to talk to him, show him in every possible way that you were still here with him. Every day you tried to make things better between you, you poured your heart and soul to try to fix what you didn’t even know was broken.

Things got worse a couple of months later.

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.

His funeral was held on a sunny spring afternoon. People from all over the world showed up to say their final goodbyes to the man who had saved the world so many times. Friends, people he had saved, and heroes paid their respects to him. The first super soldier had finally been put to rest.

After everyone had cleared out, you went back to drop one last token for his departure. It was a picture of the both of you. Steve’s arm hung over your shoulders while both of you held a couple of beers. It had been the first time you had seen Steve outside of work related situations. That was the beginning of your friendship.

As you got back to his tombstone, you saw Bucky standing in front of it. His eyes were void of any expression, and he didn’t seem to be talking to Steve’s grave either. Bucky was just there, staring at the place where his best friend was buried.

He didn’t seem to notice when you stood next to him, nothing in his body gave any signs of acknowledgement. You gave him a couple of minutes before you reached for his hand. You knew that, even if he didn’t show it, he was in great pain. He had lost his last connection to the life he had once lived.

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.

The contact only lasted a few seconds. Your touch surprised him, as he had jolted once your skin grazed his own. He turned his head to the side to give you a glare that you’ve never seen before. His eyes had been filled with pain, as you guessed, but they also carried hatred and disdain. He must’ve seen your expression, because a second later his eyes changed to a neutral expression.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."

He hummed in acknowledgement, not sparing another glance at you as you put the photograph against the headstone, right in between the dozens of flowers that decorated it. Both of you stayed silent after that, the sounds of the birds and the faint rumbling of cars were the only sounds keeping you company. It was peaceful. It was good. Just the two of you enjoying a moment's calmness in silence.

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.

Without notice, he turned around. Long, desperate strides guided him towards the exit of the graveyard. He wanted to create distance between you and him, find somewhere that was as far away from you as he could be. You felt how you were losing him.

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.

"Bucky." You called for him. He stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t turn around, so you took that as a sign to keep going. "I know you’re hurting right now, I am too, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you."

He didn’t answer for a few seconds, and you thought you had made a breakthrough. Maybe this was the time when things went uphill. This was the little push he needed to start healing and perhaps to try to rebuild the bridges that had burned. This was the little thread of hope you'd hung up on.

You were wrong.

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.

You didn’t see him for a couple of months after that. You considered tracking him down but ultimately gave up as he had asked for space. He needed time on his own, and you could give it to him. You would give him anything he asked for.

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.

You barely remembered tracking down his address or making your way there. It wasn’t until you were facing his door that you realized what you had done. He asked for space but in that moment, you couldn’t give it to him. You needed your Bucky.

Knock, knock, knock.

It was late in the night, and you could hear the TV going on in the living room. He had to be home. After a few minutes without an answer, you knocked again, but the only thing that welcomed you was silence.

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."

You rested your forehead against the door, finally allowing yourself to feel everything you had been pushing back ever since the fight with Thanos. Pain, grief, loneliness, hatred, sadness, despair. A cocktail of emotions ran through you in an overwhelming way and seemed to want to drown you.

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.

"Please Bucky, please open the door. Wanda is dead." Your own cries stopped you from talking, the hole in your chest seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. "Nat, Tony, Steve, Wanda. All of them are dead, and I—I can’t. I can’t keep losing people. I can’t lose you."

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.

You left with half a heart that night.

Two weeks later, you came back to his apartment, ready to demand an explanation. Your love for him was strong, but you needed him to talk to you. You were ready to fight for your future. You were ready to fight for your love.

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"

The door didn’t take long to open. It surprised you, your confidence and anger faltered for a second. This was a sign, perhaps it was him being ready to fight for you too. This was him showing you he still loved you.

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.

"Hi."

You wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into tears. You wanted to burn the world and leave everything behind. You wanted to die. But the only thing you could do was stay there and stare at the girl.

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.

"Yeah, of sorts."

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.

"Oh."

You didn’t know what would be worse, if he had seen this girl ever since he left your cabin or the fact that he had a one night stand with a random girl. It didn’t matter, though, Bucky Barnes had crushed your heart.

The girl, whose name was Clara, kept her word, leaving minutes later as she had to go to work. She seemed like a nice girl who had no idea the man she had slept with was engaged. And perhaps in another world you would’ve been nicer to her if your heart hadn’t collapsed in on itself when she opened the door. Maybe she was a little naïve, as she let you stay inside the apartment so you could wait on Bucky. She had also asked you to give him her number, the digits scribbled on a piece of paper.

You broke down the moment she closed the door behind her. You thought of trashing the place, breaking every piece of furniture he owned, and burning all his clothes in a pit in the middle of his living room. You imagined yourself hurling the stupid leather jacket he seemed to be fond of lately.You also thought about settling for burning everything to the crisp, wanting to see the look on his eyes once he saw his apartment consumed by flames.

You didn’t do any of those things, though; instead, you waited. This time, hours actually went by, the once bright morning turned into the darkness of the night, and you never moved from your spot on the couch, not even to turn on the lights.

Bucky came back to his apartment around 11 p.m. When he noticed the apartments' lack of lightning, he felt relieved not to have to deal with the girl he had taken home the night before. By the looks of it, she left a while ago.

He turned on the light before taking of his jacket, placing it on the coat hanger next to the door.As he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he tossed his keys on the counter.He had to change the sheets on his bed and do laundry tomorrow. The glass was half full when a voice behind him spoke.

"You have a nice place here."

The glass dropped from his hands into the kitchen sink. His head snapped quickly towards you, finding you seated in the middle of his couch. He turned off the sink, before making his way toward you. You couldn’t be here, not today of all days.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.

He didn’t mean it like that, not in the way it sounded. He wasn’t angry at you being inside his apartment, he was scared. Scared that you had arrived at the wrong time and seen something you weren’t meant to see.

He finally stood in front of you and saw it. Your nose was slightly puffy and red, like you had been crying for some time. Your shoulders were slumped, defeat washing over your posture. But the thing that hurt the most to see was the pain behind your eyes. It wasn’t the normal type of pain of loss or grief as you had experienced these past months. No, it was something else.

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

It couldn’t be.

You couldn't have been here when she was still in his house. There was no way, life could not hate him this way. It had to be something else that broke your heart, he had hurt you many times this past couple of months, and today was probably the day it all crashed down. It had to be that.

"Clara let me in."

No.

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."

You knew, you had seen the girl who was apparently named Clara, he didn’t really remember it. Bucky knew he had to do something, anything that could save your relationship. Perhaps if he begged you not to leave him, to let him explain everything that had been going on with him, and if he spent the rest of his days making it up to you, then you would stay. Maybe you could forgive him.

He didn’t do any of that, though. The same thoughtless attitude washed over him like it had done ever since he came back. It was as if his brain forced him to act this way in order to protect his own heart in the long run.

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

His mouth answered without his permission.

"Does it even matter?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe it the answer wouldn’t change the way you were feeling; if anything, it was bound to hurt you more. But a part of you wanted to know the truth, to extinguish the other half of your heart.

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."

You knew the answer, yet it still hit you with the force of a thousand bricks. He admitted it. He fucking admitted it and he didn’t even show a single morsel of remorse. There weren't any apologies or begs, no promises, or big romantic and sorrowful speeches. You could feel your own love being smothered, the flames that had once brought so much warmth to your soul were replaced by cold and emptiness.

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.

Now

Bruises covered your body as well as new injuries that would probably give you more scars. Dirt and blood slid down the drain, exhaustion settling in as your muscles relaxed. The droplets of water fell against your body, washing away everything that had happened today.

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.

You had almost died, one of the guys Bucky and you had cornered, had a bomb attached to his chest. You tried to stop him, your gun pointing at his head, but you were too slow. The explosion shook the entire structure, causing a chain collapse of the floors around you.

Bucky had jumped to protect you, his body acting as a human shield, deflecting some of the impact.His flesh arm had a large metal piece embedded in it, as well as some burns on his back. The explosion had knocked you both out of the air, and the resulting wave had thrown you both across the room.

As you tried to shake away the confusion and the ringing from your ears, you felt his hand find its place along your face and travel to your stomach. As he scanned you, blue eyes looked at you with fogginess but also deep concern.

"You ok?" he had whispered.

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.

But you remembered the desperation. You remembered everything crumbling apart as you tried to make your way to the exit. You remembered Sam’s voice screaming through your earpieces to get the fuck out of there. You remembered Bucky's hand always keeping you safe, guiding you through the clouds of cement and smoke.

You also remembered how Bucky’s steps faltered before collapsing. Neither of you had noticed he had a second piece of metal scrap buried between his ribs. If he had removed it, his enhanced healing would have taken care of it, but the extenuating movements had caused damage to his lungs, bleeding, and a lack of oxygen, causing him to pass out.

You remembered screaming for Sam’s help, begging him to help you save Bucky. You remembered the tears falling from your eyes as you tried to pull Bucky to safety, begging him not to die, begging him to wake up. You remembered the fire catching up to you, it’s warmth burning your skin. You wanted to kill Bucky, you would be happy if you never seen his face again, dance on top of his grave as you celebrated the end of his existance.

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"

Fortunately, Sam came for you, him and all his Captain America glory had saved both of you, his wings protecting all three of you as you carried Bucky outside. You had barely gone a few steps ahead when the building finally set one last explosion, ending with everything on it's way.All three of you landed on the floor with a thud as the shock wave reached you.

You focused your attention on Bucky's wound, which was already healing, but his lack of response worried you.His breathing was barely existent, and his heartbeat was decreasing. You had straddled his lap and began performing CPR on him while asking Sam to go fetch the adrenaline shot you stored in the vehicle. You had punctured Bucky's chest with it, and after a few seconds, he had woken up.

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.

The body behind you wrapped his hands along your waist, pulling you out of your memories and spreading the soap he had covered you with. Bucky's fingers traced all the way down your body, removing every trace of stress.

After everything happened, Sam told you to go back to the safehouse while he met with Joaquin to try and start locating people with the intel you had gathered. You thought about fighting him, but one look at Bucky and any fight you had left was done.

A knowing look from Sam told you this wasn’t just to let both of you rest and get cleaned up. It was a second chance. A second chance at the talk you had avoided to had with Bucky ever since that night you slept together.

You drove back to the safehouse, and once you had gotten inside, everything crumbled apart inside of you. As you reached out to Bucky, your tears had fallen, your hand lingering in his fleshy arm, right where his wound was.His hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the stream of blood that fell from your eyebrow. In the silence of the room, no words were exchanged, but both your hearts understood.

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.

His lips peppered kisses along your shoulder as he cleaned you, his lips sometimes finding your neck or your lips when you would press yourself against him. As you spread the shampoo over his head, your fingers massaged his scalp with the tenderness he had missed, his eyes closing every time you hit the right spot.

After drying yourselves and changing into new clothes, you both layed on the bed, covered over the head with the thin white sheet you had. You faced each other, blue eyes meeting yours. Your fingers found his face as you traced along every crevice and line you hadn’t seen before. Bucky appeared to have aged years in the time you hadn't seen him, but he remained as beautiful as ever.

Your heart ached in your chest, and you couldn’t fight it anymore. You had denied yourself the other feelings that remained inside of you other than hate and betrayal, but today, as death seemed to call for both of you, it was clear you didn’t want Bucky Barnes to die. A part of you hated him so deeply you weren’t sure you would be able to stop, but no matter how strong the hatred was, you were sure a part of you still loved him.

However, that part of you was broken. Battered and bruised to death by his own doing but it was still there. It was locked inside the thousand-foot wall you had built around it to keep it safe. Refusing to ask questions, refusing to talk to him, and refusing to admit the pain you were in. But in doing so you hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to heal. To move on.

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

Bucky struggled to find the right words. You were asking him the same question he had asked himself for many, many nights. He asked himself that question when he wouldn’t reach for you at night. He asked himself that question when he didn’t open the door for you.

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.

"The first time I came back to myself, after fighting Steve in the helicarrier, I realized the world had moved on without me. My plans, my family, and the people I knew were all left in the past. They all moved on without me, everyone was gone except for Steve. I had a plan, after the war I would go back and find myself a beautiful girl to marry." A sad smile posed on his lips as he reminisced. "I wanted the white picket fence and three kids package. Cookouts with my family and friends while I was still a war hero. But all of that was gone the moment I woke up in a time that wasn’t mine. My dreams were gone."

He paused before reaching for your face, his eyes closing before opening again, tears streaming down his cheeks."Ever since I woke up, I was a man drifting in a time that wasn’t mine, in a life that wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any dreams, or aspirations other than to survive and perhaps discover the truth. Nothing made sense to me, not until I met you." His thumb wiped away the tears you didn’t know they were falling. "You were the very first person, aside from Steve, that was kind to me. You talked to me, listened to what I had to say. You showed me what this new world was about, how to survive in it, and above all, you never doubted my innocence. It wasn’t because you knew me like Steve did, or because he had asked you as a favor. You were my friend, the very first I made when I was lost. And along the way, you turned into more, you were my new dream. I fell in love with you, and suddenly it didn’t matter that I wasn’t supposed to be here, or what it could’ve been because with you, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere."

A sob escaped you, his words burning your heart, branding them with the love you once felt for him. The heartbreak and the pain came once again, but it felt different. It was comforting in a way that scared you, terrified you. You knew he had loved you once, but you had stored those memories far away where they couldn’t hurt you. Because it was easier to tell yourself that Bucky had never actually loved you than to think he had loved you and had still betrayed you.

"But no matter how much time passed or how loved or comfortable I felt, I was still scared. I was terrified. Terrified of the same thing happening again. Every day, I'd tell myself, 'Something is going to happen, something is going to take me away from you, and when I come back, another hundred years will have passed.' And it did happen. When Thanos snapped me away, I came back, and to me only seconds had passed, but for you it was five years. Everything had changed again, even you. There was this sadness that seemed to have nested behind your eyes every time you looked at me. And every time I looked at you, I could see how much you had suffered because of me, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything about it."

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.

"I felt like it was. I felt like I must’ve had some sort of curse that would always take me away from what made me the happiest, and in return, I would hurt everyone around me with it. I had died once again and the world kept going, once again. And I tried really hard to fight those thoughts, but it was as if a cloud of darkness would whisper to me that I didn't belong here anymore.That everything had changed once again, and it would happen again and again and again until I finally died. And I didn't know what to do; it was as if this voice was drowning me, washing away every ounce of happiness I had left inside me until all that remained was anger and resentment."

His voice had broken, as had his ability to hold back the tears.He had buried this for so long, too embarrassed to say them aloud, to admit how he had messed up everything because he was afraid.He wasn’t the man who had sworn to protect you against everything, he was a coward. A coward who had let his own fear hurt you in ways he could never fix.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." Bucky kissed your forehead. "You didn’t deserve any of what I did to you, and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for doing that. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me, I’m sorry I pushed you away when all you did was trying to help me. I’m sorry I slept with someone else. I'm sorry I messed everything up because the truth is, you have been the best thing that has ever happened to me, past and present, and if I had to go through all of the pain, torture, and heartbreak all over again just to meet you, I would."

You stayed there in silence for minutes. Neither of you dared say anything else that would break the silence. Both your hearts had been through a lot today, from the threats of death to the realizations of love and pain that had been confessed. But amongst the suffering and the torment, both of your hearts began to heal, and the pieces that had been ripped apart came back to where they belonged.

You took his hands into yours, your lips kissing his knuckles. "I don’t know if I could ever forgive you for what you did." Bucky’s eyes closed in ache, he knew it was a possibility, but it still hurt to know there was no hope, but your words stopped him from spiraling. "But I would like to try."

Hope. A tiny silver of hope.

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"

You considered it. Your mind and your heart still pulling towards different directions but none of them letting you decide. Would you be willing to risk your heart once again for Bucky Barnes, or has the damage been too great to be fixed and covered? "I don’t know."

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."

He kissed you one last time. His lips still had a subtle taste of smoke and burned, but above it was something overpowering, something both of you felt as he deepened the kiss. You both tasted redemption and forgiveness.

Forever

"Thanks for helping me."

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."

Bucky and you chuckled at his poor attempt at a joke, your footsteps echoing in the half-empty apartment. A couple of seconds later, your mattress landed with a loud thud in your bedroom, making you happy to be finally done. You threw yourself on the bed, Bucky following you close behind, his heaviness bouncing you off. You turned to your side, resting your head on your hand, and he replicated your pose.

It had been a year and a half since you decided to bring Bucky back into your life, and things had changed dramatically since then.You stopped doing solo missions and moved to New York, where you split your time between assisting Sam and Bucky with their shenanigans and volunteering at the woman's shelter Sam had connected you with.

In the beginning, it was difficult to adapt to a tamer lifestyle than the one you had lived in the past year, but listening to all those women, the things they had been through, showed you that sometimes the thing people need to start healing is to have someone along the way.

Bucky and you had become friends, just as you had been when you first met. It took time to get back to the beginning, but soon you found out how much you needed him as a friend, not a lover or a soulmate but just someone with whom you could talk. And, over the course of the many nights you spent talking, forgiveness found its way into your heart.You didn’t forget the past between both of you, but along the way there was understanding and care.

"How was your date?"

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."

During this time you had gone on a couple of dates, even went out with a guy for a couple of months, and since you and Bucky were ‘just friends’ you thought it would be uncomfortable to talk to him about them. But he had developed a habit of surprising you, and as it turned out, he was okay with it. When you asked why he was okay with it, his response surprised you.

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."

Your heart was still reluctant about him, after all, pain is a thing you can hardly forget. That had been the reason why you had tried to find someone else. Someone who could make you laugh as hard as he did, someone who could make you blush with just a cocky smile, someone who could calm you down and make everything better by simply holding you close at night.Someone who could make you happy. But all of them failed, because they weren’t Bucky Barnes.

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.

Blue eyes stared at you and all you could feel was your heart racing. He was the man you had once loved and he had betrayed you, but time had mended your heart. The part of you that hated him was gone, and instead the love you felt for him came back, maybe not as strong as it once was but it didn’t matter. Your love was willing to build itself up, your love was willing to let him in one last time.

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.

"What?"

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.

"Bucky, ask me."

Bucky’s heart stopped. A part of him had always told him that you would never want him back, and he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you in so many ways that he could never forgive himself. He had been sure the best he could have from you was friendship, and he had made his peace with it. Having you as only a friend was better than not having you at all.

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.

He wasn't the same tormented man from another time you'd fallen in love with, and you weren't the same broken but hopeful girl he'd loved with all his heart.You both had hurt each other, but you had also grown, both of you in your own ways, and yet destiny had brought you back together.

This time, neither of you was scared.

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

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#comment reblog

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

Omg hi! Thank you soooo much, it really means so much coming from you. I read both your series Bad Match and Looking for a heartbeat (such amazing series, I love them so much!) on a previous account I had and it's so nice to hear this from a writer like you. Thank you for coming along the ride with this fic and for all the nice things you had to say about it❤️

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now

"Fuck you," you spat the words.

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.

Please, fix this.

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"

"Don’t fucking touch me."

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."

"Can you just—"

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."

He deserved it either way.

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.

"Oh."

Could you ever forgive him?

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.

Thump, thump, thump.

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.

"Good"

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."

Then

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.

"I’m James."

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.

Now

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."

But he couldn’t say anything.

"Say something!"

"You’re beautiful."

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You sighed.

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"

"They had traces of the super serum."

Fuck.

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.

"Yeah."

This was different, though. This was sinister.

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."

"Well, let’s take him in and—"

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.

Compromise. You could do compromise.

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.

So he agreed.

"Yeah."

"Good. I’ll meet you outside."

Then

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.

The man was hotter than the sun.

"No problem." you smiled at him.

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."

"You would?" he questioned.

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.

You made him smile for the first time.

"Yeah. I’d like that."

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.

Now

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.

Broken.

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.

"Bucky!"

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn’t."

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."

"Oh."

"He said you’re going to therapy."

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."

You hummed, sipping on your tea.

"Does it work?"

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself

But he broke the silence.

"What do you mean?"

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.

A cup of lavender tea.

Then

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.

"It’s ok. I got you."

He would give you anything you asked for.

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.

Now

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.

"I—"

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."

"He was about to torture you!"

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"

"I’ve always cared."

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.

"Sure."

"Look at me."

You swatted him away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."

"I never stopped loving you."

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.

"I’m sorry."

A lapse of judgment.

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.

Beg me, your eyes said.

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.

"Fuck."

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.

"Me too." he finally admitted.

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.

"Inside."

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."

Then

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.

Oh, how right you had been.

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.

Bucky had been real.

With his departure, he had also taken your heart.

That is, until a ray of hope appeared.

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.

Steve left shortly after.

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.

This Bucky never hugged you.

This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.

This Bucky never said I love you.

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.

Things got worse a couple of months later.

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.

You were wrong.

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.

You left with half a heart that night.

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.

"Hi."

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.

"Yeah, of sorts."

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.

"Oh."

"You have a nice place here."

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

It couldn’t be.

"Clara let me in."

No.

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

His mouth answered without his permission.

"Does it even matter?"

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.

Now

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.

"You ok?" he had whispered.

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.

Hope. A tiny silver of hope.

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."

Forever

"Thanks for helping me."

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."

"How was your date?"

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.

"What?"

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.

"Bucky, ask me."

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.

This time, neither of you was scared.

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

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Send this to ten other bloggers that you think are wonderful. Keep the game going, make someone smile!!! ♡♡♡

Awwwww thank you baby ❤️❤️ You literally are the most wonderful blog here

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

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I just caught up with the episodes and I CAN'T, IT HURTS SO BAD BUT I love it❤️

We'll burn the sky | part eight

Warnings: angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of cheating, allusions to smut

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader | Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham | Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Eddie confronts you about your night with Steve. You have your first interview and your final show before your break in Hawkins.

Word count: 7.6k

Series masterlist

The frown on Eddie’s face seems constant as he listens to Steve talk about his amazing night with you.

He can’t even be mad at him, Steve knows nothing about the things that happened between you and Eddie but it still makes him angry; the way you so easily moved on from him and let someone else touch you the way he touched you– actually, you let Steve do more than just touch you.

You and Eddie never had sex.

He wanted to wait, he wanted to break up with her first.

“Eddie,” Steve nudges his shoulder, “do you think I could take her out on dates when she comes to Hawkins?” he asks, staring at his friend, not noticing the anger and the jealousy in his eyes.

Eddie doesn’t even look at his face, he doesn’t look into his eyes the way he always does when they talk, he stares at Steve’s neck with a sour expression on his face, you gave him hickeys, your lips touched his neck, your lips touched his lips, your hands touched his body, you let him touch you, you moaned his name.

“Dude, what’s up with you?”

Steve slaps Eddie’s shoulder as if to shake him awake.

Eddie blinks, furrowing his brows as he finally looks into his friend’s eyes, “huh?”

Chuckling, Steve shakes his head, “are you okay?”

‘No, you fucked the girl that I love.’ Eddie thinks to himself.

“Yeah, just tired,” he mumbles, “got another show tonight and some kind of interview.”

Steve raises his eyebrows in surprise, “an interview? Are you nervous?”

Eddie shrugs as he reaches for his cigarettes, taking one out from the pack before he puts it back inside, “not really,” he mumbles with the cigarette between his lips now, “I don’t think they’re gonna focus much on me or the guys. They’re not gonna go easy on her though,” he says after lighting up his cigarette.

He is concerned about you. He knows how rude the press can be.

“She’s tough, got a mouth on her too,” Steve chuckles, “she’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.”

Steve scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat, he looks down at the snowy ground, “can I ask you something?”

Eddie clenches his jaw already, knowing that it’ll be something about you.

“Sure.”

“Are you and Chrissy still a thing?”

Oh.

Eddie swallows harshly, he inhales and breathes out the smoke into the sky before he turns back to Steve.

“Why are you asking?”

Steve avoids his eyes, feeling nervous and uncomfortable all of the sudden and it only causes the frown on Eddie’s face to grow bigger. Just by Steve’s weird behavior he can tell that something happened.

Steve tears his gaze away from the snow, instead finding interest in the people that walk past them on the sidewalk.

“Steve,” Eddie mumbles, “why are you asking?”

“I just– me and Robin went to a party last week and she was there,” he explains as his guilty eyes finally look into his.

“And?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a little. He doesn’t know why he is even asking him this, he can already tell where this is going.

Chrissy has either been seen with Jason or some other asshole.

“Robin was with Vickie and uh, I was getting a drink, she followed me, we were just talking about you know, stuff,” Steve chuckles nervously, “she was talking about work, I was talking about a date I went on–”

“Steve,” Eddie says sternly, “come to the point.”

He sighs, “okay,” he mumbles under his breath, “she kissed me.”

The betrayal in Eddie’s eyes is there but there’s no surprise, no pain, no heartbreak, no shock– just betrayal and disappointment. He can’t feel hurt anymore, not after everything she did to him. He was used to it. Somehow, he has become numb to the pain, even when he used to love her.

You just left the hotel and were about to walk around the corner when you heard Steve’s words. Halting in your tracks, your eyes widen in shock.

“But I didn’t kiss her back, I pushed her away, she tried again and she wanted more than that but I pushed her away, I swear Eddie–”

“It’s okay, Steve.”

“N-No, it’s not, Eddie. I’m so sorry,” you hear Steve say.

“It’s not your fault, you know it’s not the first time,” Eddie says without a single emotion in his voice.

“Yeah, it isn’t. I-I saw her, Eddie, with Jason.”

“Okay.”

You furrow your brows at his words. Okay? How is that okay? How can he be so calm, so unbothered?

“Okay?” Steve scoffs, “that’s not okay, Eddie! She keeps doing it– dude, you were a wreck, you were heartbroken when she cheated on you back then and now you act like it’s okay?”

He suffered before, she put him through this kind of pain before, that’s why he is so unfazed. He is numb. He is numb to all this pain and all these feelings. Is that why it was so easy for him to do all of this?

“You should leave her.”

“I will,” Eddie says loudly, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now, I-I don’t know what the fuck I was waiting for.”

You can hear Steve’s sigh, “I get it. I felt the same after Nancy cheated on me with Jonathan,” he snorts, “I was willing to look past it and beg her to stay with me but looking back on it, I’m glad I never begged, would’ve just made a fool out of myself. And, being alone isn’t that bad, man. At least you won’t get cheated on.”

Eddie laughs a little, you know that he is shaking his head at Steve’s words right now.

You also shake your head, staring at the ground in confusion. What’s wrong with the women in their life’s? Despite what Eddie did, you still think that he is the sweetest person you have met, he is perfect in your eyes, that’s why it hurts so much to look at him and remember what he was hiding and doing all these months.

“Yeah uh, I’m going to talk to her when we’re back home.”

“Who are we spying on?”

You almost yell in surprise when you hear Gareth’s whisper, startled, you turn around and stare at him with wide eyes, “dude!” you say in a hushed whisper as you hit his shoulder, he stumbles back a little.

“You should’ve seen your face!” he laughs.

“Shut up!” you frown, rolling your eyes.

He is still laughing, like it’s the funniest thing ever.

“Are you drunk or something?” you mumble, furrowing your brows.

“No,” he snorts as he finally stops laughing and straightens up, “you just get that funny look on your face whenever something startles you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like you’re about to start screaming like the girls in the horror movies.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is, y/n.”

You roll your eyes at the grin on his face, “whatever.”

Jeff comes out next, he’s wearing a thick hoodie with your band logo on it, a big leather jacket over it, he is carrying a red paper cup in his hands.

“Hey you,” he smiles, “I know you missed breakfast and I know you need your coffee so, so…” he trails off, holding it out for you.

Your eyes soften. You take the warm cup, giving him a small smile, “that’s nice of you, thank you, Jeff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you put something in there?” Gareth asks Jeff with a smirk on his face.

Jeff glares at him, “I’m not you, asshole.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t take a coffee from you, man,” you mumble, “I know you’d put salt or pepper in it.”

“That’s uh not correct,” he says, holding one finger up, “I would add salt and pepper in.”

You snort, “you’re a menace.”

“Hey.”

Your head snaps in his reaction, your eyes meet with his. Not settling on Steve, just yet.

Eddie’s eyes leave your face, settling on your neck instead, he eyes the marks that Steve left on you. Anger flashes in his eyes and he frowns.

Is he hurt or is he just angry that another man touched you, since he already claimed you?

You hold the warm cup tighter in your hand, pressing it against your chest.

Pain flashes in his eyes when they meet yours again, big brown eyes filled with sadness.

Damn you and your stupid puppy eyes, Eddie Munson.

Steve looks between you and Eddie, curiosity lingering in his eyes.

“Did you have a sleepover with Eddie?” Gareth jokes, looking at the guy he used to dislike once.

“Uh… no,” he chuckles, nervously.

“Oh,” Gareth mumbles, “where did you–” he stops when Jeff nudges his shoulder. He glances at Eddie, who still stares at you like you just broke his heart. Then his eyes fall to your neck, noticing the very visible marks that he hasn’t seen before, his eyes widen, even more so when he looks at a very flustered Steve. Oh god.

Jeff clears his throat, looking away awkwardly.

“Damn, Steve. You just can’t keep it in your pants, huh?” Gareth mumbles.

Steve blushes, laughing nervously.

Jeff can’t even stop the laugh that escapes from his lips, “says you?” he snorts.

“What do you mean?”

Jeff turns to Steve, “Gareth is fucking every groupie that he can find.”

“What?” Steve gasps, “Gareth, you?”

Neither, you or Eddie pay attention to them or their conversation, instead you keep looking at each other until he finally makes a move and pulls you away. Without asking you first, he grabs your hand and leads you away from the others.

His hand feels warm, despite being out in the cold for so long. You fight the urge to intertwine your fingers with his.

He stops next to a phone booth and turns towards you, still keeping your hand in his.

You stare at him in confusion, not moving your hand away just yet.

Eddie has dark circles under his eyes, his curls look messy, he looks tired.

“What?” you mumble, not knowing what else to say.

“What?” he mimics, irritating you, “did you have fun?”

Rolling your eyes, you rip your hand out of his, “yes, actually. Steve is amazing.”

Jealousy flashes in his eyes, he clenches his jaw. The images that pop up in his mind just make him feel even worse.

“Was it so easy for you to move on from me?” he asks, with no anger behind his words, just pain and sadness.

You don’t look into his eyes now, you can’t.

Steve is amazing and you have only done what you did because you felt safe and comfortable with him and because you wanted to feel something other than this. Steve is funny and kind and sweet and you don’t regret what you did but you do feel guilty.

You aren’t Eddie’s, you never were and yet you feel like you have betrayed him and it makes you feel sick.

“Don’t ask me this question, you are the one with a partner, not me,” you finally say, “I don’t owe you anything, Eddie. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want.”

“You once told me that I’m the only one that you want,” Eddie says.

Scoffing, you look back into his eyes, “yeah, I did. I did want you,” you nod, “but that was before I knew about your girl.”

He mumbles your name, eyes showing nothing but guilt. He tries to reach for your hand again but you pull away, shaking your head at him.

“How would you feel if you were in my place?” you ask, “how would you feel, if you found out that I had a partner all this time, while we were doing this,” you ask, gesturing to the two of you.

“I would give you a chance to explain yourself,” he mumbles.

You scowl and roll your eyes, “would you now?”

“Yes,” he exclaims, taking a step forward, he looks like he is fighting back the tears, “yes, I would because you mean everything to me, I could never do what you did, I could never move on to someone else, kiss them and sleep with them as though nothing fucking happened–”

“You are such a hypocrite!” you whisper yell, trying to keep the attention away from the two of you on this busy street, “you fucked her after being with me and then you claimed that you wanted to leave her, that you wanted to break up with her for months now!”

He scrunches up his face, brows knit together as he shakes his head, “I didn’t fuck her…. Christ.”

Right.

“Mhmm,” you roll your eyes, looking at anything but his eyes.

“It’s the truth, y/n,” he mumbles, “I didn’t have sex with her, I didn’t even kiss her. I haven’t touched her like that since I left Hawkins.”

“God,” you sigh, “stop fucking lying to me already. You said nothing when I confronted you about it two nights ago, I asked you why you kissed her and why you slept with her, when you wanted to leave her so bad and you said nothing, you just stood there and stared at me like I was a fool.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I didn’t sleep with her and I didn’t kiss her, I’m not lying about that.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything when I asked you about it?”

“I-I just, I don’t do well with confrontations,” he mumbles as he looks down at his hands, nervously playing with the rings on his fingers, the way he always does.

“Eddie, you literally fought a guy and argued with him for fifteen minutes straight after he tried to grab my ass and you’re trying to tell me that you don’t do well with confrontations, come on, man…”

“It’s different with you, okay?” he huffs, raising his head to look at you, he finds you staring at him with nothing but confusion in your eyes, your lip jutted, brows furrowed. Why do you have to be so cute?

“How?”

“You intimidate me,” he confesses.

You draw back in surprise, lips parting, “w-what?”

“You intimidate me,” he repeats, chuckling to himself, “not in a bad way, it’s just. I’m worried about saying the wrong things around you, I’m worried about scaring you away. You’re amazing and even though we made it here together. It feels like, I get to watch you become a star, a fucking rockstar and I’m just some lucky dude that gets to play guitar and come along on this adventure but the moment it’s over, I’m going back to Hawkins to live the shit life I never wanted but you? You will keep doing this and you will forget about me and you know what? That’s what scares me the most. As much as I wanted this life, I want you more and the thought of losing you or you forgetting about me, breaks my fucking heart, y/n.”

He quickly wipes his tears away and looks down.

Tears well up in your eyes and your chest warms at his words, yet at the same time they hurt. The thought of living a life without him hurts you just as much as it hurts him to think of one without you in it.

“And the thought of you moving on so easily hurts too,” he mumbles, “but you’re right, you don’t owe me anything, you can do whatever you want. I just thought that we had something special.”

“How can you say that?” you ask, voice almost cracking.

“Say what?”

“That we had something special, you lied to me the whole time, you have someone waiting for you at home, you cheated on her with me, you knew that you would hurt me. This isn’t special, this is fucked up and disgusting, Eddie.”

His shoulders slump and his face falls, “sweetheart,” he whispers.

You shake your head, “no, you can’t say all these things to me.”

He takes another step towards you, you don’t move away and you don’t flinch either, not even when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up to make you look at him.

You close your eyes, “don’t do this to me again, Eddie,” you whisper.

A sigh falls from your lips when you feel his touch on your skin. Your heart begins to flutter the way it always does whenever he touches you, “you’re gonna hurt me, you’re gonna do the same thing to me that you do to her and I can’t do this, Eddie. I feel too deeply for you, I wouldn’t survive this so please, just let me go, don’t do this to me.”

He shakes his head, stepping even closer to you, not caring if anyone sees you two like this.

“I would never do this to you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“But you did it to her and I think that you must have loved her a lot if you stayed with after what she did and yet you still did this, you can’t tell me that this– that you, would be any different with me.”

Eddie didn’t stay because he loved her so much, he stayed because he was afraid. Afraid of being alone. She made him believe that no one else would want him.

“You and I are different,” he whispers, squeezing your cheeks a little, he looks at you with pleading eyes, “we are different.”

“That’s what you thought about her too, didn’t you?”

Tears fill your eyes, you’re so sick of it already. Of these tears, of this pain, of all of this.

His silence gives you the answer that you needed. You nod and close your eyes as you step away from him.

“We have to go,” you mumble, “the stupid interview..”

Eddie blinks his tears away, nodding at your words. He watches you, already waiting for you to leave him standing here by himself again but instead you look up at him with your soft and pretty eyes, a frown on your lips and sadness clouding your features.

“To answer your question, I did not move on from you, I don’t think I ever will and you know what the worst part about it is? I don’t want to, I don’t want to move on from you, I just want this pain to stop but I know it won’t, no matter what I do,” you whisper the last part and take another step back, catching a tear before it can slip down your cheek. You turn away and walk back to the other before he can even say anything.

You hate how easy it is for you to be so vulnerable around him, you hate that you can’t lie to him about your feelings, you hate that you can’t just push him away from you.

How will you ever shake him off of you?

“Hey,” Steve’s gentle voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” you smile, still blinking as the tears still threaten to spill. You look up at him, finding the soft look on his face contorting into a concerned one.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, laying a palm on your shoulder.

“Nothing, j-just got something in my eye,” you lie.

Steve frowns at your words, clearly not believing you, he looks over your shoulder to see Eddie still standing by the phone booth. He can see the sad look on his face, even from afar.

He looks back down at you and then back at him, raising his brows as his brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

“Oh,” he whispers in realization.

Suddenly, he feels like a fool.

He didn’t notice this before. He noticed the glares that Eddie gave him when he flirted with you, the frowns that took over his face whenever he touched you, the little scoffs that left his lips whenever you flirted back.

Steve was just too excited to be with you to notice the so very obvious jealousy and anger in Eddie.

Eddie likes you and you like him.

Steve stares at his friend as he walks back towards the hotel, the look of heartbreak in his eyes is so hard to miss.

No, Eddie doesn’t just like you. There is so much more than that.

He looks back down at you, “you know what, you gotta tell me everything when you come to Hawkins.”

The interview started off well. Though you were nervous about the amount of journalists in the room, all eager to find out more about you.

You sat in the middle, with Eddie and Jeff on either side of you. Gareth and Jeff sat at both ends at the long table.

The smell of coffee lingered in the room, oddly enough it was calming your nerves.

The questions were tame, at first.

They asked about your backgrounds, how the band came together, what or who got you into music, they asked about the process of songwriting and of recording. It was going well until now, the questions were starting to get personal and the more they asked, the worse you felt.

“Are you single, Eddie?”

You want to roll your eyes at the question. What does his relationship status have anything to do with the band or music?

“Yes, I am.”

You have to restrain yourself not to turn to him and gasp. So he just continues to lie?

“And what about you, y/n? Are you single?”

“Very much so, yes.”

“You and Eddie seem pretty close,” another woman says, “you look very comfortable with each other.”

“It would be weird if we weren’t comfortable with each other, we’re together day and night,” Eddie says, not realizing what he actually said.

“You’re together at night?” one asks.

Eddie, you dumbass.

“Yes,” you speak into the mic before Eddie can make this any worse, “because we’re on the same tour bus, obviously. There’s not much privacy.”

“Y/n, what is it like for you to be the only woman in the band?”

“It’s fun actually, they’ve become my family.”

“Speaking of family, how does it feel to follow your father’s footsteps?”

And that is where it all went downhill. One mention of your father and they all jumped right at you, throwing one question after the other. You were able to mask your discomfort with snarky replies and a stoic expression on your face but Eddie could sense your anxiety. He could see your leg bouncing beneath the table cloth, he could see you blinking more rapidly, you were angry, you were hurt and upset.

He took your hand in his and began to rub circles into your soft skin, it seemed to calm you down but he could only do so much.

‘Is this life as overwhelming for you as it was for your dad?’

‘No, I love living this life.’

‘A source told us that you have been doing drugs before shows, is that true?’

‘No.’

‘How does it feel to live the life your dad once lived?’

‘Feels like I’m doing it for him.’

‘Have you had any relationships with your band mates?’

‘Is it true that you and Eddie had been caught hooking up in a bathroom at a nightclub in Pittsburgh?’

‘What do you say to these pictures?’

‘Did your dad commit suicide on Christmas eve?’

Rob cut the interview after that question, not even giving you the chance to answer the question. To say that you’re shocked is an understatement. You felt tense and you felt frozen in place and yet, you kept a straight expression on your face and let go of Eddie’s hand before leaving the room. Rushing through the hallways and storming out of the hotel before making your way towards the tour bus.

Your chest feels heavy, you feel sick, you feel angry, you feel too much.

The moment you are back on the tour bus, you let out an angry sigh. You knew this would happen, you knew they would do this, you knew they would ask them all the meaningless and simple questions while you would get this.

They just had to bring him up.

They had to bring up his death.

Rob speaks your name, approaching you slowly.

“How did they know?” you ask, angrily.

“They don’t know,” he sighs, “people were talking about it before, in the magazines, it was a rumor–”

You laugh, raising your hands towards your head, “expect it’s not a rumor, Rob. He did fucking kill himself.”

Rob turns around to make sure that no one followed him on the bus.

“Y/n,” he steps towards you, watching with worried eyes as you begin to pace back and forth, “don’t let this get to you, these assholes out there always throw disrespectful questions around, especially at women, they wanna get a rise out of you but you did well, you handled it well.”

“Well, I’m not handling it well right now,” you scoff.

He places his hands on your shoulders, “you gotta calm down, kid. I know this is hard but just try to calm down, yeah? You got a show tonight, don’t let them ruin this for you.”

Closing your eyes, you nod at his words.

He is right.

You take a deep breath.

“I think the christmas break will be good for you,” he says, patting your shoulder.

You want to scoff and roll your eyes but instead you open your eyes and force a smile on your face, “you think?”

Rob smiles at you, nodding.

“Yeah, it’s been some stressful months. Songwriting and recording takes up a lot of energy but the tours are harder. Takes a toll on your body, it’s time for a break, gotta take care of yourself, eat some good food and just watch some christmas movies.”

You chuckle, your features soften.

“That’s what you will do?”

His eyes flash with amusement, “of course.”

“Then that’s what I will do too.”

Though the conversation with Rob calmed your nerves a little, you still feel on edge and the other’s notice it as you all get ready for the show.

Eddie can see the anger in your eyes. It’s only been there ever since the journalists have mentioned your dad and it makes him suspicious of the question they have asked you.

He wants to approach you, take your hand in his and tell you that everything will be okay. He is scared to make things worse though so he stays back and watches you instead.

You lean against the wall, you move your hair back and adjust your earpiece. Your lips match the colors of your nails tonight, blood red. You’re wearing a black cropped top with what seems to be a new leather vest, a pair of tight pants showing off your curves nicely and as you turn your back to him to reach for your red microphone, he can’t help but curse under his breath, your ass just looks perfect in those jeans.

“Fucking christ,” he mumbles, having to adjust his pants the longer he stares at you.

Suddenly the images of you with Steve appear in his mind, the thought of him touching your bare skin, kissing you in places that only he should be allowed to kiss you, his hands on your perfect ass– fuck you, Steve.

Gareth comes up next to him, blabbering about some girls he saw before entering the venue but Eddie doesn’t listen to him, he is too busy staring at you, eyes almost bulging out of his skull when you bend over to tie the loose laces on your boots.

His dick twitches in his pants. God, he knows you kind of hate him right now but he wants nothing more than to bend you over a table and rip those tights jeans off so he can fuck you senseless and remind that you are his, that you belong with him.

You move back up and when you look over your shoulder and your eyes lock and he can’t help but wonder ‘are you doing this on purpose?’ You pretend to be innocent though, turning away from him and reaching for the drink you’ve grabbed for yourself earlier.

Ever since you have found out about Chrissy, Eddie finds it hard to read you– it’s easy to read your emotions when you’re being vulnerable with him but it’s hard to read you when you do these things.

Are you teasing him?

Are you playing with him?

Are you distracting yourself from today’s events by doing this?

Or are you just reminding him of what he can no longer have?

He can see the fire in your eyes when you’re performing, the anger and the raw emotions in your voice. Your engagement with the people in the front row makes the crowd go wild.

Your touches with Eddie are different than usual, you step closer to him, letting him use your mic to sing, he looks into your eyes, a smile tugging at his lips as the audience screams for you.

You step back again as the song stops playing ,before the band begins to play another song, you raise your hand and put a finger up and in front of your lips. They guys give you a questioning look but still do as they're told, Gareth puts his drumsticks down and tilts his head at you.

Eddie furrows his brows, lips parting as he stares at you.

You turn back to the crowd, greeting them for a second time tonight.

“Eddie,” you speak into the mic, causing the people to scream once again, you chuckle as you look at them, “he is amazing, isn’t he?”

Eddie’s eyes twinkle with happiness and gratitude when they cheer for him again. They love him. All these people are here for the band and him– Eddie who grew up with a father that didn’t love him. Eddie who was pushed around in school. Eddie who was considered a lowlife and a freak. Eddie who had been told that he is nothing. Eddie who had been told that no one could ever love him.

All these people love him.

You love him and even though you claim that it has no meaning to you anymore, it still means something to him.

“He is not just the best guitarist in the whole word, Eddie is also a pretty fucking good singer!”

Eddie raises his brows, staring at you nervously.

“Why don’t we switch places for this song, Eddie? Sing your heart out, see what it feels like to sing this song, what it’s like to be in my place.”

Eddie blinks, drowning out all the cheers of approval. You wrote this song together, it’s the last one on the album, the one you have worked on the longest. The one about heartbreak and betrayal.

He forces a smirk on his face, “you sure you can handle her?” he speaks into the mic as he holds up his sweetheart.

“You know I can,” you smirk, tilting your head.

“Yeah,” he rasps into the mic as he eyes you up and down.

No one is blind to it, you always flirt on stage and your fans love it.

“Alright,” Eddie says, “you guys are lucky tonight, you’ll be the first crowd to watch my favorite girl play with my sweetheart,” he chuckles, slinging the guitar strap over his head, he holds it out for you.

His favorite girl.

You ignore the fluttering of your heart when he calls you that.

You grin, taking his guitar as you hold out your microphone to him.

You sling the strap over your shoulder, winking at Eddie as you switch places with him. You use your thumb and your forefinger to grip the neck. The crowd immediately cheers after you strum the guitar, you can’t help but giggle at their excitement.

“I love you, y/n!”

Eddie chuckles.

He watches you with a smile on his face, staring at your twinkling eyes, the happiness, the one that has become temporary, the one he only ever sees on stage now.

He appreciates the sight in front of him. The way you look with his guitar. You are perfect in every way.

You turn towards him, using his microphone, “let’s do this, guys.”

He nods, flashing you a small smile as he holds the mic tighter in his hand. His fingertips hurt from playing all night and now he is watching you with awe in his eyes. Despite not playing as much as he does, you’re good, just as good as he is, Eddie thinks.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, not even when he sings and is supposed to engage with the crowd– with his fans. He can only look at you.

And you feel just the same, your eyes are glued to him as you play and sing the lines that are supposed to be his. Your eye contact is intense as always– perhaps even more intense than usual.

Your heart longs for him, your soul pulls you into his, you want him and you need him but you can not have him and yet, when the song is over and you stop playing, you still let him in, you still let him pull you into his arms.

Just like always, there is only you and him when you look into each other’s eyes.

Eddie’s eyes show nothing but love. He leans down and cups your cheeks, he kisses your forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he pulls back.

You place your hand on his, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you look up into his eyes.

Why does he have to make things so hard for you?

December 16th, 1988

So, it’s been a while since anyone wrote something in here but, we’re back in Hawkins, home sweet home, or whatever. I missed this shithole, can’t believe it. -Gareth.

Hawkins.

The town you have dreaded so much ever since finding out the whole truth. Now you’re here and you feel uncomfortable.

While the others went to visit their families, you will spend your time here at the town’s motel, which is very different from the luxurious hotel’s you have gotten used to but your room is a small and cozy one, it’s on the second story and it’s close to Forest Hill Park, Eddie’s trailer is only a ten minute walk away from motel 6.

It’s a Friday afternoon and all you have done since your arrival was taking a long and hot shower and laying on the king sized bed while the tv plays in the background. You play with the rings on your finger and stare at the ceiling.

You wonder what Eddie is doing.

Is he spending time with his uncle?

Is he taking a nap?

Is he laying in bed by himself?

Is he with her?

You haven’t been away from him since you’ve left for tour. You were together all the time, it’s weird to be here all by yourself now.

You could see Steve.

Sitting up on the bed, you stare at your suitcase for a moment before you decide to get ready. You still didn’t get the thick coat that Eddie had suggested you should get and you already know that you will hate yourself for it later. It’s even colder than in the city.

You put some makeup on and do your hair before picking out the warmest clothes that you’ve got. Your oversized leather jacket definitely won’t do much to protect you from the cold but at least you’ve bought a scarf and a hat before leaving Indianapolis.

You pick out your shoes when you hear a knock on the door. You furrow your brows, walking towards the window, you peek out, Eddie.

Sighing, you step back from the window to open the door.

“You miss me already?” you ask with a bored expression on your face.

“Always,” he says.

Rolling your eyes at his words, you open the door further, letting him in.

“What do you want?” you ask, only now noticing the two coffees in his hands.

“I don’t like that you’re here by yourself.”

Oh.

His nose is a little red from the cold, fitting the red scarf around his neck– you don’t have to ask to know that his uncle forced him to wear that scarf. He looks cute.

“Why?” you ask, glancing at the coffee that he is offering you

“Here,” he whispers, offering you the coffee.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you wrap your hand around the warm cup, “it’s not dangerous here, is it?” you chuckle.

He shrugs, brown eyes flickering down to your leather jacket and the scarf.

“Not really but there’s this weird guy.”

Raising your brows and tilting your head in question, “oh?”

“Yeah, he actually lives right around the corner,” he says, pointing his thumb to the entrance.

“Oh, you’re talking about yourself?” you snort, eyes flashing with amusement.

Eddie rolls his eyes, scoffing at your words, “you’re so funny.”

“Right?” you smirk.

Placing the cup on the desk, you bent down and reach for your boots. Feeling his eyes on you, you glance up at him as you put them on.

“So, what’s this guy’s name?”

“Huh?”

“The weird guy, what’s his name?”

“Oh,” Eddie mumbles, eyes moving to your ass, again.

“Henry, dude is kinda sketchy, he has that psychotic look in his eyes. I sold weed to him before and he started talking about the end of the world, seemed a little too into it.”

“Wow,” you mutter under your breath.

“Hey, where are you going?” Eddie finally asks.

You shrug as you reach for the coffee again, “thought I’d take a walk.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Why?”

He walks towards you, ringed fingers wrapped around his cup, his soft eyes meet yours, “cause I wanna spend time with you, I can show you around.”

You wanted space, you wanted him to stay away from you, you wanted him to leave you alone but he just won’t do it, he keeps showing up, he keeps clinging to you.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

He sighs, nodding.

If anyone else told him that, he would leave and never show up again. Eddie never truly felt wanted or loved, not until you. You never pitied him, you never faked anything with him, you never lied to him– not even when he hurt you. You could have lied about your feelings, you could have told him that you hate him but you never did.

You might have told him that you never want to see him again but he knows that you truly never meant it.

And despite the tension between you, despite the things you tell him, you still want him around.

“I hate being away from you,” he whispers.

You narrow your eyes, sighing in annoyance.

“Shouldn’t you be spending time with your girlfriend?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I hope you know that, that kinda makes you sound like a dick,” you scoff.

“I know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “she isn’t here anyway, she’s gone for the weekend.”

Of course.

You can’t even stop the laugh from escaping, you shake your head, “right, so I’m the placeholder again, okay,” you scoff, turning away from him, you walk towards the door.

Eddie curses under his breath, how does he keep messing it up?

“No, sweetheart, that’s not– I didn’t want to spend time with her, I wanted to talk to her.”

You grab the keys and leave the room, waiting for him to come outside too, you look away with a clenched jaw.

“I really don’t care, Eddie. I don’t give a shit about what you wanted to do with her.”

He follows you, looking frantic as he stares down at you. You shut the door and lock it, stuffing the keys into your pocket before walking off.

“Please, y/n.”

“Please what, Eddie?” you scoff, “just leave me alone, that’s all I was asking of you.”

“You are so confusing!” he suddenly says, almost yelling.

Surprised by his words, you halt in your tracks and turn back around. Your wide eyed gaze meets his and you can’t help but gasp.

“I’m confusing?”

He nods as he continues to walk towards you, “yes, actually. You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met in my life.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Because you act all fucking cute with me on stage and then you do this,” he exclaims, “you tell me you love me and then you go and fuck my friend, you keep telling me to stay away from you but then you almost kiss me at the show, you hold a whole speech about me and then go back to ignoring me, you keep acting normal with me and yet at the same time you look at me like you want me gone! I know I fucked up, okay? I know what I did was wrong but you made me feel like I was wanted for once in my fucking life, I felt like someone actually wants me and loves me for who I am, so I’m sorry for wanting to be around you, I’m sorry for wanting you so bad.” I’m sorry for being so in love with you.

For the first time, you see the vulnerability in his eyes that he was hiding from the world. The part of him that’s broken is finally coming to the surface after years of pushing it away. His bottom lip quivers a little, his dark eyes filled with hurt.

You feel guilty, you feel sad, you feel insecure.

You want to hug him but at the same time you want to turn heel and run.

“Do you actually want to be around me or do you want to be around me because I make you feel good?” you ask, “do you want me so bad because you know that I love you and that I would never hurt you like she did?”

“What?”

Now it’s your bottom lip that is quivering, now it’s your eyes that are filled with hurt.

“Because that’s what it sounds like to me, Eddie,” you shrug, “you feel safe with me because you know how much you mean to me, because you know that I still want you even after you lied to me all this time but I would never stand a chance if she made you feel the way I make you feel, right?”

He shakes his head, staring at you with raised brows.

“You want to settle for me because I can give her things that she couldn’t give you.”

“No,” he whispers in shock, “what makes you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to talk about this any longer, you turn away and begin to walk away from him again.

You hear him sighing, calling out to you.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Eddie.”

“But–”

“No,” you mumble, “I wanna go on a walk now.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?”

“I just, please.. I wanna be with you.”

You look at him in annoyance, his stupid puppy eyes make it hard for you to say no to him.

“I’m gonna spend time with you tomorrow, remember?”

You promised Eddie that you would get breakfast with him and his uncle. Wayne wants to meet you and even though you don’t want to be around Eddie, you couldn’t say no to that offer, just like you can’t say no to him now.

“Yeah but… still.”

“You wanna go on a walk with me?”

He nods.

“Okay, then take me to family video, that’s where Steve works, right?”

His face falls, frowning at your words, he turns away to roll his eyes.

“Seriously?” he mumbles.

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Robin laughs, “nope.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “why not?”

She continues to stack the vhs tapes on the shelf, looking back at her best friend, “because, I don’t think that you’re her type.”

“Dude,” he exclaims, “can’t you see this?” he points to the hickeys on his neck.

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “some chick gave you those.”

“Not some chick, y/n, gave me those.”

“Keep dreaming, dingus.”

Steve just started his shift and rushed into the store with the most excited look on his face that Robin had ever seen, his cheeks were flushed red and his eyes shone with happiness.

She hasn’t seen him like that since… Okay, maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he got lucky and did get to be with you.

“You’ll see.”

“See what?”

Steve smirks at her, crossing his arms over his chest after putting on his vest, “she is in Hawkins now.”

Robin drops the tapes and rises to her feet, eyes widening, “what?”

He nods, “she’s in Hawkins, she’s staying here and guess who’s gonna hang out with her?” he asks, smirk growing bigger as she walks towards him, “me.”

“Holy shit,” she mumbles.

Just as she stops in front of the counter and looks at the smug look on his face, the bell above the door rings, he looks over her shoulder, eyes flashing with excitement.

Robin’s brows draw together, following his gaze, she turns around, eyes widening even further when she catches sight of you. Her lips part before they set in a smirk, “holy shit.”

With Eddie right behind you, you walk inside, an excited smile resting on your lips, while the look on Eddie’s face is nothing but one of annoyance.

“Hi Steve.”

I'm only doing taglists for friends and mutuals from now on, follow @andvyswritingss and turn on notifications so you don't miss updates of new chapters!

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#fic rec #eddie munson

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

Omgggg I'm living for your hate for Steve hahaha, honestly same. I mean steve just had it coming tbh, and this was for us readers that wanted to see him in PAIN but also see her move on and who better to do it with than with Bucky ❤️ the one that will always be there for her.

Loved both your comments ❤️ thank you so much

No, you can't call me her name (S.R)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

P.T. 2 of Can I call you her name?

Summary: It’s funny how they say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

9.8k words

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

That was until she came.

From that moment on, he was a goner.

After all, he has always been a fighter. No matter how difficult, no matter how unlikely, no matter how painful, as long as there was hope, he would fight.

Except this time, he should’ve given up.

"Because I don’t love you anymore!"

"I need to get away from you, because if I don't, I’ll never leave, and in twenty years, I’ll wake up and realize that I spent my life with someone I have never truly loved."

Pain and grief weren’t foreign concepts for him. He embraced them, learned from them, and moved on.

But the pain of losing your one silver lining in a sea of darkness was too much to bear.

Things had changed, except for the emptiness of his chest.

But then you came.

Not even him.

Of all the shitty things Steve had done, he thought this was the worst one. Using you, playing with your feelings, and giving you false hope. He thought he couldn’t hurt you more than that.

Oh, he had been so wrong.

Then why was the emptiness in his chest still there?

"So, what do you think?"

He likes how they make him feel.

"Well, I think that documentary I watched on you lied to me," you say with a frown, eyes still glued to the notebook.

What?

His chest sinks a little; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he had thought you would.

"What do you mean?"

You look up, and his heart soars. You have the same look, now complimented with a coy smile.

"They said you were a good artist, but it turns out you’re amazing."

With a teasing smile on your now puffy lips, you break the kiss apart."Well, someone has a praise kink."

But he can’t bear to look at them. So he just nuzzles against your chest, the affectionate embrace taking you by surprise.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he says quietly, almost as if he doesn't think you heard him.

He can pretend to forget about her.

"Me too," you whisper back.

The hopefulness of your words almost breaks him.

"You okay?" Her whisper startled him slightly. He didn’t realize she was awake or that she was staring at him.

She shrugged. "A couple of minutes." Her hand settled delicately on his chest, making him turn around to see her. "You were mumbling in your sleep."

"Oh, sorry," was all he said to her.

Maybe it was the neighborhood or the decor you had that made him feel like that.

Or maybe it was you.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"No." He answered quickly, almost too quickly.

In his dreams, your eyes still carried that same warmth. You still made him feel, even if it’s just a memory.

"It was a pretty good dream."

Why do things have to be so complicated, even when they are supposed to be perfect?

Steve had a plan for the night. He had cooked dinner, set the table, and even gone to grab her favorite scented candles. Everything was in place.

However, things may not always be as perfect as they once were.

But this time it suffocated him.

There had been a few times when Steve Rogers felt nervous.

And as he looked at the door of the conference room and his leg bounced up and down, Steve felt the same way he felt all those times.

Everything he had planned fell apart the moment you walked into the room and raised your gaze to him. You were there, walking in as if nothing had happened two months ago. But this was not his you.

"Good morning" was the greeting you offered him. Different, cold, distant.

It was all his fault.

"Selfish, selfish, selfish," his mind kept whispering.

She had become a constant reminder of the things he had done and the irreparable damage he had caused to you.

"Sorry, they need me back at the tower." He had lied.

That night, he walked for hours in the dark streets of New York, passing through the places he had taken you on your first date or non-date.

He could still feel your lips on his when his eyes were closed.

There were three times Steve realized your relationship with his best friend was turning into something else.

Why did he keep dreaming about you?

He was content with it until Bucky came around.

The elevator doors opened, and his friend took long, angry strides out of the metal box. Steve could see his friend's rage seeping through him, a level of rage he hadn't seen in a long time.

Steve never saw Bucky’s fist coming to his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he roared.

"You don’t understand. "She's back," he said, his voice breaking.

"I didn’t mean to hurt her—"

"But you did. The things you said yesterday..." He couldn’t finish his sentence.

"Stay the fuck away from her, or the next time I see you, your nose won't be the only thing that’s broken."

Lately, he seemed to be an expert at driving away his friends.

Steve heard another breaking noise, except this time it came from his chest.

The second time he saw was months later.

He had his exceptions, though.

Tonight was another one of those exceptions.

She wanted to go out. For a couple of weeks she had been nagging asking about it, not taking a no for an answer. Finding the whole conversation repetitive and annoying, he finally caved in today.

However, he left out an important detail.

"You do need to step up your game," Sam chuckled.

He heard Bucky’s metallic arm flexing. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you gotta dress to impress her man. And do something with your hair, with all the black clothes and long hair on your face, you look kinda depressing."

"Fuck you."

Sam laughed. "No, but I mean it. She’s a beautiful single woman, emphasis on the single, in the middle of the dancefloor. You think no one will shoot their shot with her?"

But he heard it.

A laugh. Your laugh.

You looked beautiful.

Steve left the club without looking back.

The last and third time happened a couple of weeks later.

He had let you walk the lonely, dark streets alone.

With a deep breath, he pulled himself together. This was his chance to prove himself, and hopefully it was enough to keep you in his life. He was ready to face you.

Except you weren’t alone.

It was the type of smile you used to give him.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately for him, the man took off his hoodie.

It was like he was never part of your life.

He was watching you fall in love with someone else. He was being forced by destiny and his own hand to witness how your heart forgot him.

Steve should’ve realized sooner that things were not the same .

At first, it was the little things.

It was her perfume, her clothes, her smile, the way she said "I love you," the way she would embrace him, the things she liked, the way her leg would bounce when she was nervous, her eyes.

Her eyes weren’t the ones he would dream about.

Even in the rare occasions he could see you, it wasn’t the same. He could only see snippets of the person you used to be, each time less and less as you forgot what you had once felt for him.

For almost two years, he had you.

And for almost two years he could’ve been happy, if he had allowed himself to.

Anger.

They were yours. They had always been yours.

The memories were good, but the present couldn’t live up to them.

So, like any couple who refuses to admit their own shortcomings, they attempted to fix everything with sex.

Her whines filled the room. The noises he had heard many times before accentuated his movements, they let him read her easily enough to know that he was doing a good job.

He saw the way you cared about him, the tenderness in your touch and your words as you chatted in the corner of the room. He saw everything.

Why couldn’t he stop feeling?

Then it all came crashing down. His eyes closed, and he decided to embrace his thoughts.

"Steve," she moaned.

"Steve! Someone’s going to see us," you laughed. His hands groped your ass as he lifted your legs to his waist.

"Let them see. I want them to know you’re mine."

"Don’t stop, baby."

"You think we could ever just leave everything behind and go somewhere?" you asked. Your eyes were fixed on the window of your apartment. Small droplets of water crashed against the crystal.

His hands found yours, his head found its place on your shoulder.

"Any time you ask, I’ll drop everything to go with you."

"I’m so close."

"I need more." Your voice trembled. Your hands shook as you poured out your heart to him. Your left hand clung to his. "I can’t keep going like this. I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends"

He wasn’t prepared for the sad look in your eyes, though. Or how broken they looked once he gave you an answer,

"I’m sorry. I can’t."

"Keep going. Please."

"Stay, please."

"No"

His eyes snapped open.

It hurt. His heart was in pain. The crushing reality of his feelings left him breathless. He was ready to accept them. He was ready to open Pandora's box.

"I love you," he whispered.

Your eyes looked back at him, and he saw them as they were in his dreams. They were loving him back.

His head lowered to your ear. "I love you. God, I fucking love you."

He couldn’t stop saying it. As soon as those three words left his mouth, he felt like he could breathe again. The burden he had been carrying for so long was finally lifted from his shoulders.

"I love you."

"I’ll never let you go, not again."

"I’m sorry. I love you."

"I love you."

"I have always loved you."

Then, your voice filled his ears and his heart.

"I love you too."

He came inside you. Your arms engulfed him in a hug, your legs rested on his hips as he tried to control his own breathing. His nose nuzzled your neck, and the warmth from your body felt like home.

Steve loved you. Deeply. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

He had always loved you.

But another knock on the door made you jump. Your heart rose to your throat. Who the hell was that? Their knocks were desperate, whoever was knocking surely had an emergency.

"I’m going! I’m going! Stop knocking on the fucking door." You yelled while putting your shoes on.

"Hey."

It was Steve.

Steve was there. At your door.

Steve ‘The asshole’ Rogers.

You snapped out of it. The grip on your door tightened before you tried to close it on his face. His hand stopped you from doing it.

"What do you want?" Your words sounded harsher than you intended too, but you didn’t back away from them. He deserved them after all.

"I— Can we talk?"

He had his heart broken.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to hear him.

"Fine." you grunted.

"How have you been?"

You chuckled at his superficial question. Of course he would try to start with small talk instead of going straight to the point.

"Good." You took a sip of your water. "You?"

He shrugged. "As good as I can be"

"Why are you here, Steve?"

He apologized, as you knew he had been waiting for a long time.

"I’m sorry for hurting you. I wish I could go back in time and erase all of this. You didn’t deserve any of it."

"You were the best thing that happened to me in a long time. I’m sorry I was too stuck in the past to see it."

" I know you hate me, but you can’t hate me more than I hate myself for hurting you."

His words brought peace.

Until he opened his mouth again.

"I fell in love with you, I don’t know when or how, but one day I woke up and realized that I already loved you."

"I’ve loved you since the very beginning. I close my eyes and the only thing I can think about is you, the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you make me feel."

"I broke up with her. I couldn’t stay with her, not when it was you in my heart."

"I love you"

He said them. The words you had begged him to say for two years were finally directed at you. You expected to be overjoyed, even ecstatic, when this day arrived. You would finally be happy.

Who would’ve thought that words of love would bring so much pain?

Steve didn’t know how to love, he only knew how to cause pain.

"And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

Steve flinched. "I don’t—"

A big hand stopped your escape.

"I can’t even think of starting something new with someone else because all I can think of is what if?

What if one day he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t really love me, that he loves someone else?

What if he breaks my heart the same way you did it?

What if he doesn’t love me the same way I do?

And it’s all your fault."

"It’s Bucky, isn’t it?"

Your head snapped back at him.

"What?"

"Your what if. It's him, isn’t it?"

She recognized the sound of heartbreak when she heard it. His voice was filled with it.

"Yes."

"I’ll never get you back, will I?"

You wanted to chuckle, he still had hope. But for both your sakes, you had to extinguish that ray of hope. Honesty was all it took to kill it.

"I don’t think I could be with you without hating myself a little bit for it."

"I think it’s better if I go now." You opened the door, stepping aside to let him walk out of your place. "I’ll see you around."

You were ready to close the door when Steve's voice called for you.

"You think we could ever be friends again?"

You gave him a sad smile. "We weren’t really friends to begin with."

This time, you closed the door without looking back. Your chest still hurt, and your eyes felt sore from all the crying. But amongst all the sadness that the memories brought back, you smiled.

You were finally free.

"Hey"

But the shy smile on your face and the excitement that radiates from you change his mind.

"Hey," he mutters, his mind not being able to come up with something more playful or flirtatious as he usually did.

Bucky notices how it takes you a second to say something, they way your hands grip on the frame of the door and he could hear your heart fighting to break free from your chest.

"Is that dinner date still on the table?"

His heart stops.

"I—Yeah, it is."

You smile at him beautifully. Bucky thinks that he has never seen anything more mesmerizing than your smile.

"Good. Pick me up at seven."

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated!

A/N: It's finally here! I hope you guys enjoy it and sorry it took longer than I thought it would.

Requests are OPEN

Tag list: @captainson-of-coul @imyourbratzdoll @kneelforloki

#comment reblog

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

HAHAHA it really is a rollercoaster, I honestly hated Steve the whole time that I was writing this with his whole hot and cold shit and just like the type of fuck boy that tries to be the good guy but just TRAUMATIZES you. And the whole scene in the room was just what I needed to show reader needed to leave his ass for good but also to break her heart cause that's just how much of an ass Steve is.

Bucky Barnes has all our hearts ❤️

Can I call you her name? (One-Shot S.R)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

Summary:Scenes of how your relationship with Steve began, how he won your heart and how he broke it.

What good is love when it only hurts you? 12.6 k words

Content Warning: Angst, heartbreak, Friends with benefits? (Steve gives mixed signs), mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Oral f receiver, penetrative sex, slight mentions of oral sex m receiver, slight mentions of rough sex, Steve has a big dick.) Steve is also a dick, fluff but in the deceptive way. A/N:There will be a second part to this, more info on it here. Part 2 is already out.

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Steve Rogers isn’t like any other man you’ve met before.

The friendly, charismatic, innocent persona the public eye knows was your first impression of him. It would be hard to think of him otherwise when the media couldn’t stop talking about how brave and kind he is.

Maybe that's what brought you towards him in the first place. The good, nice, and kind Steve Rogers that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Steve Rogers is good.

Just not in the way everyone thinks.

He is good at making you scream his name. He is good at wrecking you, destroying every sense of reality you have when you’re below him. He is good at making you crave him, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever compare to him. He is good at fucking you.

Not just good. Great, excellent, magnificent, or any other exaggerated positive adjective you could think of. He is all that and more.

Unfortunately, he is also good at breaking your heart.

Great, excellent, magnificent.

You still remember the first time you saw him. It was really embarrassing.

You were a new intern for an advertising company. It was your first week on the job, and you were already helping with big accounts, even if it just meant bringing coffee and delivering documents. You were more than grateful for it. Well, if anything, you had to be grateful to your coworker Jenna and her severe case of flu that had infected almost every publicist available on your floor. With everyone else out, you were thrown off of the bench. You were excited. This was your moment, and no one could take it away from you.

How naïve had you been.

One of the big accounts you ended up working on turned out to be none other than Tony Stark himself, and therefore, The Avengers were part of the deal as well. You can still remember how nervous you were when you first read the names on the paperwork you were supposed to deliver in an hour. Heart racing, sweaty palms and even a slight trembling of the hands were invading you.

Who could blame you? You were about to meet Earth's mightiest heroes.

Well, you weren’t exactly expecting to meet them. With you being the "errand girl" you thought you would be lucky if you even caught a glance of any of them, let alone actually get to talk to them. You might not get to meet them, but being in the same building as them was enough to make your stomach tight with nervousness.

With your foot tapping on the floor, papers on one hand and an iced-coffee tray on the other, you were waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the twenty-first floor. You had memorized the instructions your seniors had given you. Reach the office in the back, leave the documents and coffee, and get out of there. They didn’t need the newbie to freak out around celebrities, they didn’t trust you were able to control yourself even if you had assured them a thousand times you could handle it.

As the elevator doors opened, your heart rate significantly increased. You could’ve sworn you were about to have a heart attack. You silently cursed at the fact that you had to cross the whole floor to get to your destination while trying to remind yourself that you had to be professional, not only for the sake of your career but for the sake of your dignity.

Ironic. Maybe if you hadn't been so nervous, you would’ve noticed how quickly everyone was moving in the office. Perhaps you would’ve also noticed how someone was walking out of the same room you were trying to get into, the door swinging open so quickly you didn't have time to stop the inevitable clash.

The coffee that landed on the ground made the floor slippery. In an almost cartoonish way, you fought to maintain balance, failing miserably as you landed on your ass. You opened your eyes, not realizing you'd even closed them, and saw the folder you were holding mere seconds ago was now resting on top of the brown liquid. The stain was growing around the edges so rapidly that it felt almost taunting. Your hands launched forward, trying to save what's left of the important documentation you were supposed to deliver. Your effort, while admirable, was futile.

"God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?" A deep voice said. Your head snapped so quickly it wouldn’t have surprised you if you pulled out a muscle. You recognized that voice.

Captain America, in all his glory, was standing in front of you. For some reason, you thought the first time you would meet Steve Rogers, he would look like the pictures you’ve seen in the press. A tactical suit, a shield in one hand, and a serious expression were the mental images you had of him. But, sitting on the floor in a puddle of coffee and ice, the man you saw was completely different. His white T-shirt and black sweatpants made a huge contrast with what you expected, also making you realize how ridiculous it was for you to be surprised by his outfit. He was a hero, but he was still just a guy.

A guy that looked incredibly hot just wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants.

You’ve seen this scenario played out a thousand times in movies and shows. The first meeting of a couple of strangers occurs when they are carrying something and, by pure chance, they crash together. Food, papers, and belongings fly across the room. Eyes connect, hearts beat, and a new romance is born.

What they failed to mention is how fucking embarrassing it was in real life.

"Yeah. I-I’m okay." Of course, you would stutter the first time talking to Captain America. God, everyone was right. You definitely couldn’t keep your cool.

"You sure? I didn’t even see you. I’m so sorry," he apologized again.

With his help, you managed to get up from the floor, trying to ignore how his touch made your heart flutter. You were glad he was holding you when your heels slipped on the floor again, but a strong hand grabbed you before you embarrassed yourself any further. That same hand traveled down to your waist, his grip guided you to a surface that was not a danger to your stability.

Once you were sure you wouldn't fall on your ass again at the slightest movement, you took out your heels. His hand still helped you, lingering there until you were done with your task. The warmth that came with his touch disappeared, a slight disappointment settled in you, and your cheeks heated up at your own reaction. Could someone cringe at themselves so hard it could make you combust?

You looked at him, trying to make a funny comeback, a sarcastic comment about the situation. Anything that would make you look less pathetic than you were, but you couldn’t. The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen were looking at you. No, they were burning you. You couldn’t move. You couldn't talk. Hell, you weren’t even sure you were breathing.

"What the hell happened here?"

Your boss's voice cut through the environment, grounding you back to reality. This was when you took a chance by looking around you. Everyone's eyes were on you. Your eyes began to sting, tears fighting to stream down your face. But you endured. You breathed in, you counted, and you apologized.

"I’m so sorry. I was trying to get into the room, but I didn’t see him, and I crashed into him." If your boss was upset before, now she was furious at you. A plethora of passive-aggressive insults were thrown in your direction, maybe even the words incompetent and useless too. You could also hear his deep voice trying to explain the situation, but you didn’t really care now. You thanked your ability to tune out situations like this, a skill you had learned to love once you entered the work field.

"She should’ve been paying more attention. And look at your clothes. I’ll make sure someone takes care of that." You were able to hear. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of his now coffee-stained clothes.

You were definitely getting fired.

"She’ll pay for the dry cleaning."

Great, fired and in debt already.

"Look, you don’t have to do that," he said, tired of arguing with the stubborn woman. "It was an accident. An accident I caused. It wasn’t her fault, so stop trying to pin it down on her." You didn’t miss the authoritative tone in his voice, making you wonder if this is what he sounded like in missions.

Or in bed.

"Let me show you somewhere you can get changed." he offered. The sweet tone of his voice had a direct impact on your heart. You gave him a shy nod, letting him guide you towards the elevator.

Unfortunately, the ride was long. So long that you thought time had somehow screwed you over and decided to slow down. You needed a moment alone, a moment to cry and scream into your fist, curse at your boss, at life, even at the gorgeous man that was standing next to you. And maybe get drunk. That usually helps.

The blue-eyed soldier cleared his throat, making you look at him. "Sorry about that whole thing with your boss."

You gave him a simple shrug. "She’s a dick."

The bluntness of your words makes him laugh. As if your crush on him couldn’t get any more evident, a big smile plastered on your face, butterflies invaded your stomach. The first time you made him laugh, and it had only taken some public embarrassment and ruining your professional career.

"I’m Steve Rogers, by the way." He extended a greeting hand to you.

Without any hesitation, you grabbed it. The urgency was slightly mortifying, but with all things considered, you didn’t really have much to lose. You told him your name, making sure this time you didn’t stutter.

"Nice meeting you," he said, a charming smile in his lips. "You think you’ll be in trouble?"

The innocence in his question was amusing. He clearly has never seen the end of a corporate job.

"She’ll probably fire me."

A week in and you would already have to go job hunting again. And now you had the biggest stain on your resume, you had basically ruined some of your clients’ belongings. Your coworkers were never going to let you live this one down.

While you wallowed in your own self-pity, Steve’s hand brought you back to reality. A comforting touch on your shoulder and a friendly expression met your eyes.

"Not if I have anything to do with it." He winked.

Steve Rogers is a good man. You thought to yourself.

You had severely underestimated how helpful Steve would be. You thought he was just going to help you keep your job and give you enough time to look for another one, as your boss seemed to be bothered by every little thing you did.

What you didn’t expect was for him to request to work directly with you.

When you asked for an explanation, your coworker only gave you an uninterested shrug.

"He told Madelyn he wouldn’t work with anyone else other than you."

Of course, your boss wouldn’t let you enjoy this bit of sunshine you had. She had planned to give you the hardest tasks to complete, adding more and more pressure to see you bend until you snapped. And you had to tend to every request she had, not because you wanted to, but because you had to show her you weren’t going to quit. The only silver lining to this unspoken war between you two was how often you got to see Steve.

Steve Rogers.

The man who had made himself a place in your heart in just a few months.

You could’ve gotten over it if he was just attractive, a pretty face to look at while you were working. Something superficial you lusted after. Yes, it was wrong to want to fuck one of your clients, but again, who could blame you? Worse things have happened in the world. Once the initial star-struck phase passed by, moving on would be as easy as breathing.

The problem was, he wasn’t just a pretty face.

Meeting after meeting, a handshake, a smile, a laugh that burst through his chest, crinkles in the corners of his eyes, small things that built a foundation in you one by one.

Work meetings turned into texting, that turned into phone calls, that turned into visiting each other in your free time.

You could talk to Steve for hours. There was no space for silence when you two were in the same room. You knew his favorite ice cream, how he ordered coffee, his favorite place around the corner that served the best pancakes he had ever tasted, and how he liked to run in the mornings just before the sun starts rising, so when he’s finishing his first lap, he could see it. A beautiful motivation to keep going, he said. At this point, you were sure you could fact check his Wikipedia page without having to ask him a single question.

However, one particular secret lingered in your mind.

When Steve revealed to you that he had an ex-girlfriend, you couldn’t help but be surprised. You were sure no one knew about it, or else you would’ve heard about it. It was a mystery to you how he had kept it hidden from the public for so long.

"So, you’re telling me you had a relationship for years and no one noticed?" You asked incredulously. You were leaned back on the couch of your apartment, your legs spaced across his lap, his hands ever so slightly brushing your skin.

"I’m good at keeping secrets," he says with a smirk.

He took a sip of the beer you had so kindly offered him. You had bought them specially for him. You didn’t even like beer.

"It appears so," you said, with a chuckle. "So, why you guys break up?"

He froze for a moment, and you saw it. A range of emotions ran through his eyes. Sadness, heartbreak, longing, love.

He was still in love with her.

It should’ve been the first sign to stay away from him.

"She didn’t love me anymore."

To your surprise, you weren’t the one that made the first move.

It was a Saturday evening. The sunset was getting closer by the minute. A ding diverted your attention from the rom-com you were watching. It was him. Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you saw the notification light up your screen.

Hey, I’m finally back.

A wide grin plastered on your face, your teeth grabbing your lower lip. You were glad you live alone, or else they could’ve seen how this man, with just four words, had made you giggle like a schoolgirl.

You waited a couple of minutes before you texted back.

Hey there stranger. I’ve missed you so much. How was the trip?

His lack of response didn’t surprise you, he was probably tired from his trip to who knows where. A little over a month had passed since you last talked, with him telling you he wouldn’t be available for a while as he had to go on a mission. To say you were unhappy with the news would be an understatement. But you understand his line of work. His world won’t stop spinning just because a silly publicist has an unrequited crush on him.

Days turned to weeks, and without notice, it had been a month since he was gone. He left a void in your life that you were filling with work, friends, and copious amounts of food and alcohol. Not the best way to distract yourself, but effective, nonetheless.

Standing up to get another can of soda you heard your phone ringing. His ringtone.

You weren’t expecting a phone call so soon after his return, not after him texting you just twenty minutes ago. With a quick pace you crossed your kitchen, answering your phone at the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi." His voice was shaky, hesitant. "I, um. Are you free right now?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. You weren’t even dressed. What is this?

"Yeah. Why?"

"You wanna go out?"

What the fuck?

“Right now?” you managed to spit the words.

“Yeah”

"Didn’t you just got back today?" you asked, walking towards your closet to look for something decent to wear. Again, a big relief that you lived by yourself. Dealing with someone else looking at you making a fool of yourself would be exhausting.

"Yeah, I don’t know. I just want to hang out with you."

The first place he took you was an old dingy dinner in Brooklyn, close to where he had grown up in the 40’s. The food was mediocre, the service could be better, but the company was the best. After both of you had eaten your soggy fries and your melted milkshakes, he took you on a walk. The longest one in your life. He gave you a whole tour, comparing what used to be and what there is now, the alleys he had gotten beaten up, where he had gotten his first kiss. He shared his past with you, and you absorbed every little word he said, every piece of himself he gave you.

Following that, you walked aimlessly through the streets of New York until you reached a familiar nightclub you were working for. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed Steve's hand, pulling him towards the entrance. When he asked for an explanation, you told him your intentions, to which he started to fight back on your pull.

"Come on, Steve, when was the last time you danced?" You said with a pout, as if that could help your case.

His eyes fell for a second, a painful memory invaded him.

"A long time ago," he whispered.

He was thinking about her.

After a few more minutes of begging and pouting, he finally gave in. Your little jump of happiness made him chuckle, and your grip on his hand got tighter. When you got through to the bouncer, you told him you worked for your PR firm, and after a few minutes on the phone, he let you in with a friendly smile.

The place was packed, the music was deafening, people dancing surrounded you. It smelled like alcohol, sweat, and trouble.

Steves' hands wrapped you, the shots you had ordered a few moments ago were invading your system. Your hips swayed side to side as his hands traveled down your body, gripping you tightly. His chest was pressed against your back, his breath hit the back of your neck. No one else around you mattered. In this crowded, tight place, it was just you and him.

It was a perfect first date.

Except it wasn’t a date at all.

And that made you so angry.

You had noticed how his gaze lingered on you longer than it should, the way his hugs were tighter and he seemed to not want to let you go, how his hand had brushed yours when walking through the dark streets of Brooklyn, the way his hands would travel down your body.

At the same time, you had also noticed how he would step away from you when any sort of romantic ambiance would fall over you, the way his eyes would drift away from yours when you looked him in the eyes, the way he changed subjects when you asked him if he had any interest in going on dates.

Yet, no matter how many mixed signals he gave you, you would never make the first move. Not only would it be awkward at work (which should have been enough to discourage you), but the thought of losing him because you misinterpreted him was too painful to bear.

Six months was enough for him to become a vital part of your life, and if it were ripped from you in such an unexpected way, you wouldn’t know how you could move on. How could you forget what it felt like to have Steve Rogers in your kitchen, cooking whatever recipe he had found online, so you could have something to eat while watching a movie? How could you forget the way his eyes would shut, his head would roll back, and a hand would make its way to his chest when he found something hilarious?

You could do just being "friends" with the guy. "Friends" was good. "Friends" was bearable.

Except friends didn’t spin you around, their hands lowering down your lower back. Or raise your face, their thumb brushing over your lips. Or gave you a look that could make you combust right there on the spot, making you forget how to breathe.

Friends definitely didn’t come close to your face, their lips brushing yours and your hands grabbing on to their shirt.

Friends didn’t kiss.

You were in the club one minute, and the next you were in your house. On your bed. With a shirtless Steve on top of you.

Your clothes disappeared. Your lace panties and your flimsy bralette were the only things covering your body. His hands were touching you, all of you. Exploring every inch of your skin while his lips were devouring yours. He knew what he was doing. He was making you crave him. Beg him to fuck you.

His hand finally reached your underwear, a finger trailing up and down your covered slit. A very large wet spot, visible even through the lace, made Steve smirk smugly.

"So wet for me," he whispered in your ear. You tried to reply, but his fingers started trailing circles around your little bundle of nerves. All you could muster was a loud moan. "You like that, baby?"

Your lack of an answer made him accelerate his pace. Your head jerked back at the overwhelming sensation. He’s not even really touching you; the sensation of the dripping lace added to your pleasure, but you could tell he could make you cum just like this.

"Answer me. Use your words, sweetheart." His voice was deep, raspy, and commanding. You were right, he did use the same tone.

"Y-yes" you mustered. His lips clashed against yours, his tongue finding its way to yours. Even in your pleasure haziness, you could see how much he liked how difficult it was for you to answer. He enjoyed how good he was making you feel.

Lowering his kisses again, he trailed down to your breasts, taking his time to lightly bite one of your nipples. The sensation should have hurt, but instead it brought added pleasure, making you arch your back.

He brought himself fully down, his head between your legs. You felt his hands helping you get rid of your underwear, the piece of fabric completely soaked. Looking down, you felt like you could faint. The sight of him between your legs could only be described as beautiful.

Steve’s face got close to your soaked pussy, inhaling your scent. He looked at you. The burning gaze he had always given you was different, more intense, darker, lustful. Your most inappropriate fantasies were turning into reality. All those nights you had spent with your fingers between your legs, imagining it was him was no longer a sensuous fiction you created in your mind. He was here, right now, about to eat you out.

"God, you’re perfect," he whispered.

His tongue drew a line coursing between your folds. He was such a tease. Lick after lick, your impatience was growing; you needed him to stop playing games. Your hands traveled to his hair, giving him a slight pull so he would look at you.

"Please," you begged him.

His eyes darkened.

"Please what, beautiful?" His voice was low and seductive. The lust behind it was making your core clench on nothing. "You want me to taste you?" You desperately nodded. You needed him to give you more. "Say it."

His fingers spread your lips apart. The tips of his fingers teased your entrance as he kept pushing you for an answer. His thumb found your clit again, slowly drawing light circles against it. Your hips bucked against his hand, begging for him to add more pressure, but his other hand steadied you in your place.

"Say it, baby," he whispered.

"Please Steve, taste me," you moaned.

You knew Steve Rogers was a great fighter, great at strategizing, and a sharpshooter. He was also a great artist, according to the documentary you once watched on his time in WW2. He was smart, brave, and strong, both mentally and physically.

Now, you also know how great he was between your legs.

The sensation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves was sending you over the edge. Your slick trailed down your lips all the way down to your puckered hole. His fingers teased your entrance, slowly covering themselves in your juices until he finally slid one of them inside.

His fingers were big, bigger than yours, and they reached places yours had never been able to. The way he moved them inside you, with such ease, they found that spongy part that tightened your stomach. It was breathtaking. He added a second finger, and you could’ve sworn you were about to come undone. The pace he set was relentless. His fingers pumped in and out of you while his tongue toyed with your nub, making you feel better than you’ve ever felt with anyone else.

But you needed him, all of him.

"Fuck me," you begged. Your voice was hoarse as, apparently, the only thing you could do was whimper and moan every time his lips would close around your clit.

He lifted his face away from you, but his fingers kept moving inside. Half his face shone under the dim lighting of your bedroom. A mixture of his own saliva and your arousal was prominent on his pink, puffy lips. That and the cocky grin on his face made your walls clench.

"You wanna cum on my cock, don’t you?"

Fuck.

You never thought you would have America's favorite hero saying those things to you. Whiplash was caused by someone whose persona was built around this moralistic, innocent, almost puritan idea.

His digits added pressure to your core. The knot in your stomach tightened.

"Please" was the only word you were able to say.

His fingers stopped filling you; the emptiness made you whine. The cloudiness your brain was in didn’t let you register when he had taken his pants off. He placed himself on top of you. Both his hands rested on top of the bed on the sides of your face. The feeling of his cock resting on top of your stomach made you look down.

He was big.

No, big wasn’t enough to describe him.

He was huge. Not only in length but in thickness.

How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside you?

The red bulbous tip almost reached your bellybutton; a droplet of pre-cum rested on top of it. Without a second thought, you reached down to touch it. Steves' breath hitched as your palm closed on his member, and his hands clenched into fists. Your thumb smeared the white pearl, smudging it in circles on his tip and making his cock twitch in your hand.

"Fuck," he groaned.

Your hand dragged up and down, pumping him as you grew wetter. Your fingers found a thick, prominent vein that trailed down over his length. It was the softest of touches, yet it was driving him crazy.

After a few more pumps, he couldn’t take it anymore. He spread your legs as wide as he was able to, his hand leading his cock between your slits. You jumped a little when it first touched you, but his hands held your hips still. With swift movements, his head rubbed on your knob. The sensation of it made your eyes roll. Electricity ran through your body, each one of your nerve endings aware of what his cock was doing.

Without any warnings, you felt a slap, jolts of pleasure emerging from that nub he had been toying with since the start. You looked down to see him holding himself, ready to slap you with his tip again. This time, both of your eyes were locked together, and neither of you dared break eye contact.

His face came close to you. His hand grabbed the back of your head as he kissed you. Hungrily, desperately, seductive.

You felt his head nudging at your entrance, your eyes closing with anticipation and a little worry about his length. You weren’t a virgin, of course, but you also never had anyone as big as he. as thick as him. You had only seen dicks as big on porn sites, and even then they looked intimidating. What if it didn’t fit? Would it hurt? What if he ruined—

A soft hand brought you back from spiraling, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart."

His voice was soft and tender. A warmth spread through your chest the more you felt his touch on your face. You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, an adoring expression filling his. Your heart jumped to your throat, no longer in lust but in affection. This encounter was lustful, seductive, and raw, but the moment you looked into his eyes, it changed everything. It was vulnerable, caring, even loving.

Blue eyes looked at you, asking for permission to keep going. You gave him the smallest of nods as you leaned into his touch. He waited a few seconds before you finally felt him moving inside.

Oh, you definitely felt him.

The stretch burned. You could feel how you were struggling to fit him in. He was thoughtful, though, taking it slow and calm so you could get used to him. Yes, the intrusion hurt a bit, but you desired it with all your soul. His eyes kept you grounded, guiding you through everything you were feeling.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. Breath," he whispered.

After a few seconds, the pain was slowly replaced with pleasure, your legs instinctively spread wider for him. You felt him everywhere. The deeper he went, the heavier your breathing got. Your hands traveled to his hair, pulling it slightly in your fists when it became too much.

Finally, he bottomed out. You’ve never felt fuller in your life.

That night, he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

And maybe, just maybe, that night he also opened his heart to you for the first time.

Things were great for a while.

Steve came to your apartment almost every day, most of which ended up with you under him, begging him to not stop. You had memorized every freckle, every scar, every imperfection on his skin.

You have also memorized the things he loves during sex. The way he groans when you’re on your knees in front at him, jerking him off while your mouth plays with his balls. Or the way his eyebrows furrow when you’re on top of him, grinding your hips on top of him, his hands leaving bruises on your hips caused by his strong, almost unmovable, grip. You had even noticed the way his breath hitched when you spread your ass cheeks for him, the view almost enough to make him cum.

So yeah, things were great.

Well, maybe not great, but just good.

After that first night, you woke up to find he was already long gone. The side of your bed he had occupied had lost its warmth a long time ago. The only traces of him being around were the smell of sex and his cologne filling the room.

And the soreness in between your legs.

Maybe he had something important to do.

He would explain later, feeling sorry for leaving without letting you know. He was your friend, after all.

Except he didn’t.

He came by the next day, knocking on your door desperately. You opened the door, not before making sure you looked decent enough, pulling down your sweatshirt and fixing your hair. You saw his eyes, burning again with the same desire.

He kissed you, hungry for more.

You should’ve stopped him, told him you wanted to talk about what happened yesterday, asked for an explanation as to why he left so quickly, and made him tell you what you guys are now. Friends? More than friends? Were you together now?

But you didn’t.

You let him fuck you until you couldn’t say your own name. Kiss you until you can't breath. Let him go when he thinks you’re deep asleep.

You let him have everything he wanted and more.

You weren't stupid. You know what this unspoken arrangement was. You weren’t together.

You were just fucking.

There were implied rules in your relationship with Steve. Rule number one: you didn’t show any affection in public; rule number two: you didn’t go out in any sort of romantic date; rule number three: Steve never stayed the night.

He broke the first rule three months after that night.

Winter was closing in on New York, the air was getting colder and the streets began to be covered in a white veil of snow. Steve and you were walking side by side on the sidewalk after your shift was over. On days like these, when you got out of the office at ten in the night, Steve would pick you up and walk home with you. He said it would be safer for you.

Your hand brushed against his by accident, making yours recoil. Foolishly, you tried to grab his hand in a similar situation days after your date/not date. You still remember the bitter taste in your mouth when he gently dropped your hand a couple of seconds later.

That was the first hit your heart took.

Bringing your hands together, you cursed at the fact you that you forgot to bring your gloves with you, like you hadn’t lived in this city for half your life and didn’t know how close to freezing your fingers could get. You tried to blow some hot air into them, with the result just being a temporary fix.

Steve looked at you from the corner of his eye, a hesitant expression showing in his gaze before reaching out to your hand. You controlled your surprised expression the best you could, but you were sure he noticed. His fingers were warm, welcoming, and comforting. Not only were your fingers heating up, but your heart was pounding strongly in your chest, ready to burst through it at any given second.

He brought your hand to his lips, a small kiss touching the skin on your fingers. You felt the heat in your cheeks flush you completely, causing an amused look in his eyes.

"Your hands are cold."

To your surprise, he didn't let go of it. He interlaced your fingers.

A couple of weeks after that, Steve broke the second rule.

Celebrating a new campaign you finished wrapping up, he took you out to eat. From the luxurious decor of the place and the discreet atmosphere, you assume it was suggested by Tony. Your suspicions were confirmed when the menu that was placed in front of you didn’t show any prices.

You had jokingly told Steve you would probably have to sell both your kidneys to pay for a single plate here, and his only response was a soft hand caressing your cheek and his lips close to your ear.

"Don’t worry about it, order anything you want."

You had to keep reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date. But the romantic environment, the way his fingers would caress your thighs, his hand pushing you closer to him in the small, private booth you had been placed in, and the little kisses he would deposit on your neck, made it really hard to keep focus.

You were waiting for dessert, but his hands were busy exploring your body. To any other onlooker, you would look like an affectionate couple. The way his eyes would ever so slightly sparkle when he looked at you, his protective demeanor once you had walked inside and the fondness of his touch.

But you weren't a couple. This wasn’t even a date.

Except his hands made you look at him, with soft, pillowy lips meeting yours. They parted slightly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. Your hand traveled to his face, your thumb brushing against his growing beard. This kiss was different from the others. It was still passionate as always, but it had care, tenderness, and an intimacy there wasn’t before.

He broke the kiss apart.

There was a shine in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

"This is the best date I’ve had in a while."

The last rule was broken three weeks after your first "official" date.

Steve had been away for almost a week. He couldn’t tell you much, but all you know is that he had gone to a foreign country and something about a terrorist organization. Worry had been your companion these past few days, as it had always been whenever Steve left.

Looking at the paperwork splattered on your coffee table you groaned, deciding to stop for the night. There was no point in melting your brain with numbers and statements when you had to use it tomorrow morning too.

You stood up, your arms and back stretching after sitting in the same position for a few hours now, with a few cracks sounding through your body. Ready to finally go to bed, a knock interrupted you. It was shy, almost hesitant. You looked at the clock and it said 11:30 PM, making your brow furrow with confusion. He wasn’t supposed to come today, at least not when he just arrived from a mission.

When you opened your door, you didn’t expect his arms to surround you. You also didn’t expect him to be still wearing his tactical gear. His face was buried in your neck. His arms grabbed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He’s not okay.

"What’s wrong, Stevie?" you asked softly.

You tried to look at his face, but his arms locked you in place. His breathing is heavy, almost a panting like sound coming from him. Your hands tremble once you’re able to touch his face. You’ve never seen him like this before.

His face was covered in ash, tiny scratches sitting on top of his left eyebrow. He smelled like himself but with an added layer of sweat and smoke. There were signs he might’ve had a purple eye, but the color was fading away.

You were finally able to tear apart from him and found that instead of those blue, vibrant eyes that would greet you every night, they were replaced by something broken inside him.

It clicked in your head. He needed you. He needed your comfort.

So, you gave it to him without a second thought.

His arms encircled you once more, but this time he locked you in your own bed. After a more than needed shower, you guided him to your mattress, the covers pulled over your heads, shielding you from the outside world.

"There were children," he said, breaking the silence with a trembling deep tone you'd never heard before. You felt how hard his heart was beating, the tiredness that clouded his eyes. "I couldn't—there wasn't any—I tried."

You pulled him to you again.

"It’s not your fault, Steve," you whispered in his ear. Tears were stinging your eyes, but you breathed in. This wasn’t about you. "It's not your fault."

He held you tighter.

And you both fell asleep.

The first time Steve Rogers chipped your heart, you didn’t see it coming.

One of the perks of knowing Steve and being close to him was being invited to those wild and amazing parties Tony Stark was known for. Loud music, expensive alcohol and a big crowd greeted your sight once the penthouse elevator doors opened.

Tony really did live up to his reputation.

Bucky’s laugh next to you filled your ears. His head was thrown back, his hand grabbed his stomach, and there was a noticeable red tinge on his cheeks. This was the first time he had tried that Asgardian alcohol that was strong enough to get him drunk. To say Bucky had been excited would’ve been an understatement.

He and Sam were under your contract too, both of them being a logical addition as to how they wanted to market them. The golden trio The people could trust. So, when Steve went to see some of his coworkers, you stayed behind with them.

They were nice company, and working with them for almost six months had also made you develop a friendship with them. Breakfasts and hangouts were part of your dynamic now. The constant bickering but complicity between the men was an amusing dynamic. You felt comfortable enough around them to joke and get drunk.

"Okay, I’m taking this away from you," you laughed.

Taking a drink away from a super soldier was harder than you thought. The obvious height difference was an advantage to him as he lifted his hand.

He smirked. "You've got to reach it to take it away from me, shortcake."

You tried jumping but it was useless, the results of which only made you look ridiculous. With a huff, you looked around you, examining your surroundings. When you couldn't find anything, you devised a plan to bring Bucky down to your level. A devilish smile formed on your lips. The alcohol in your system made you more carefree than usual.

Your fingers poked Bucky’s sides, his metal arm instantly bending to protect the area. A playful fight ensued between both of you. Bucky's arm stretched to its limit while you tickled his sides. You poked both sides of his ribs mercilessly until you saw his glass close to your reach. Your little jumps finally lifted you enough to graze it.

Your victory was short-lived, as Steve's hand slid to the small of your back while removing the contentious cup. Bucky and you whined in disagreement, your lips forming a pout.

"What are you guys doing?" he questioned with a laugh, his hand now settled on your waist. A waiter walked by, and he asked him to take the cup back to the kitchen, and also to make sure to put away the rest of the Asgardian mead.

"She was being a party pooper," Bucky grumbled. You gasped in indignation and your hand dramatically went to your chest.

"I was not."

"Yeah, you were," Sam joins in the conversation.

Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance. "I’m not a party pooper. I was just making sure he doesn’t get too fucked up because if he does something stupid, who do you think has to fix it? Besides, you weren’t even here before."

Sam and Bucky looked at each other for a second before turning their eyes at you.

"Party pooper"

"Fuck you, guys!" you cursed at them, your response making them laugh. You rolled your eyes, lifting your middle finger. You opened your mouth to say something else, but Steve’s hand pushed you towards his chest.

"Don’t listen to them. I think you’re really fun to be around, "he whispered close to your ear. Your face heated up, making you turn around to bury it in Steve's chest.

This man was going to kill you.

He embraced you and a kiss was deposited on top of your head. You turned around after a few seconds to see Bucky and Sam looking at you with a knowing smirk on their faces.

"So," Bucky started, clearing his throat. "Are you guys finally together?"

You turned to Steve, not knowing how to answer. Things hadn't been properly discussed, but the change between how things started and how they were going was abysmal. This past eleven months were not for nothing, you had grown attached to him. Every kiss, every hug, every promise he had made, every sleepless night of comforting, every late-night shift he had picked you up from. The lines he had previously drawn were no longer there, and instead, they were replaced with a bond formed on tenderness, care, and, if you dared to say, love.

You loved him.

Deeply. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

If there was ever anyone you could love, it would definitely be Steve Rogers.

You would do anything for him.

"No, were just friends."

Unrequited love was painful.

Sometimes it felt like a pressing knife slowly cutting through your chest.

Other days, it would feel like you were drowning in a sea, the struggle to stay afloat consuming every ounce of energy you had.

But most days, it felt like a weight on your chest. The words that wouldn’t leave your mouth were stuck in your heart. Everything about him made you love him, and you couldn’t stop it.

Maybe that’s why you decided to talk to him about your relationship; to get rid of the pain. Or maybe a part of you still held hope. I hope for a future with him.

Once you had told him you wanted more, Steve’s face had been in shock, like a deer caught in the headlights. His silence had lasted long enough for you to doubt if he would ever answer you or if, somehow, he had passed out with open eyes.

But you still kept hoping, right until the end.

"I can’t give you more than this right now."

"If you want to, we can stop this. But if you want to keep going, this is all we can be for the moment. "

"I’m not ready for a relationship, not after her. I need time. "

His words ran through your mind over and over again. A cycle of heartbreak and lost hope draws you in. This was it. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He said he needed time, but all he was doing was telling you what you wanted to hear. He was keeping you at arm's length. He was giving you an out, a safeguard for your heart, or what was left of it.

All those nights you had spent embraced in each other's arms, with the moonlight kissing your skin, had been a construct of your imagination. The significance behind them was your own heart playing you.He didn’t love you, not in the way you had hoped he did.

The same type of love he was aware of, even if you hadn’t explicitly told him the full extent of your feelings. You could see it, even if he was so adamant that this type of bond couldn’t be possible between you two for a while, because no matter how much he would deny it, he still wanted it.

He didn’t want to love you, but he still wanted to be loved.

And as you stared into his eyes, you realized that after almost two and a half years since she left, he might still love her.

So you breathe in, close your eyes and endure. You let him keep taking it.

A jump scare on the screen caught you by surprise, your arms tightening around the pillow you were holding. You turned to your side, wanting to watch Bucky's reaction, but all you saw is his pensive expression. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. The frown on his face and the anxious up and down of his right leg made you think he was stressed about something. Probably something work related.

You turned back to the movie, the scary plot no longer able to hold your attention. Bucky had been acting weird ever since he got to your apartment, this night being only the two of you as Sam and Steve were away on a mission.

"She’s coming back." Bucky's voice broke the silence.

You turned back to him, "What?"

"Steve’s ex"

Your heart stopped.

"He told us a couple of days before him and Sam left. She texted him to let him know she was returning to S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s not going to happen for a while, but I don’t know when she’s coming back."

He visited you the day before he left, and he didn’t tell you. He didn’t want to tell you.

Bucky sighed. "I know that you are..." he hesitated for a second, flashbacks of the ‘just friends’ night coming back to you. "-whatever the hell you guys are. I also know that you have feelings for him. I just thought you should know. "

You didn’t answer. Your eyes glued themselves to the TV, but you couldn't hear anything. Your eyes prickled with tears, and a pain in your chest bloomed so deeply in you that it felt like it would break you apart.

He misses her. He didn’t tell you about it. He doesn’t love you. He still loves her.

You close your eyes, mentally repeating the mantra that has helped you for so long to not crumble down.

Close your eyes, breath in and endure.

Breath in and endure.

Endure

Bucky’s movements brought you back. His shoulder was touching yours, a simple act you can read through. You laid your head on his shoulder. As soon as your skin made contact with his shoulder, you broke. The tears you so strongly fought to chase away were hitting you all at once.

As he wrapped his arm around you and squeezed you tightly, you thought it was okay to cry, just this once.

The beginning of the end followed that day closely behind.

You weren’t sure when things started to change. After he came back, he didn’t mention anything to you about his ex coming back or how this might change what was going on between you two. Bucky wasn’t sure when she would get back to the city, so you decided that worrying about something you didn’t know when was going to happen would be counterproductive. You left the thought of her return on the back burner, just for a little while.

Steves' affection was the same. He laughed the same. He held you the same. He kissed you the same.

Until he didn’t. And you didn’t notice it until it was too late.

One day, he forgot to pick you up. You called, you texted but there was no answer. You waited almost an hour until you decided to walk back on your own. For the first time, you noticed how scary it was to walk so late at night. The next day, he apologized with a bouquet of flowers from your favorite shop.

Another day he forgot you had made plans to watch a movie. A few hours later, the beer you had opened for him slid down the drain. He called you the next day, saying work had kept him busy, but he would make it up to you.

On a different day, he forgot you were going out to eat. The waitress had given you a sympathy look while you ordered the check. The next day, he texted you, saying he was sorry. You didn’t see him for the rest of the week.

Things were different, even when you had sex.

Before, he used to love looking deeply into your eyes. Kissing your lips as he kept thrusting into you. To see your expression as he slid inside for the first time that night. He loved seeing your eyes rolling back when he hit that special spot that made you tremble. He made you look at him when you were about to come undone. He loved looking at you.

Now he turned you around, your ass up in the air and your head pinned down to the mattress. His pace was relentless, animalistic almost. There wasn’t any care or affection anymore. He used you, physically this time. It still felt good. No one could ever say Steve Rogers was a selfish lover. One time you turned around your head, in hopes to catch those blue eyes you missed so much.

His eyes were closed.

You walked through the office, making your way to the conference room. A little smile grew on your face as you compared how different things were two years ago. The first time you had walked this route, you were just a naïve intern, with so many hopes and dreams in your head that had ended up with you covered in coffee all over you.

You reached the door and made sure no one was coming out as you walked in. You saw Steve sitting alone, which surprised you. This meeting was supposed to be between you and the three of them. You were especially hoping to talk to Bucky about his upcoming solo tour as a way to mend his public image, which started a week from now. And as his representative in all public matters, you had to agree with him who would go on the trip as his companion. This conversation would probably take a long time with Bucky not really liking any of your other coworkers, and it would take even longer now with this delay.

You sat in front of him, leaving your purse and your folder on the large table between you two.

"Where are Sam and Bucky?" you inquired.

For some unknown reason, you felt nervous, your heartbeat increasing the longer you were alone with him.

"I told them to give us a couple of minutes alone."

Oh.

He was finally going to do it. He was about to break your heart right before a work meeting with him and your friends. He was leaving you to be with her.

"Okay. What’s up?" You managed to answer. Your trembling hands laid on your lap in an effort to hide them.

"I, um—" he paused for a moment. His lack of words confirmed your worst nightmares. He really was going to do it. You tried to swallow down the knot in your throat, only making it more painful. "Would you like to go to Stark’s charity gala with me?" he blurted out.

What?

"Uh." It takes you a second to compose yourself. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t kicking you out of his life. He was asking you to go with him to the gala this weekend. You shook your head, clearing out any intrusive thoughts that were left behind. "Yeah, of course. I would love to." you replied with the biggest smile you’ve had in weeks.

He smiled at you. "Ok, good. I’ll pick you up at 7:30"

"Ok."

Hope.

Maybe this was the little ray of hope you were looking for.

You should’ve never said yes.

If Starks parties had made an impression on you, the gala was certainly something to behold. Elegant, radiant, stylish, and graceful were the adjectives that came to your mind. The event was held at the Manhattan Center. The space was open, wide and decorated to perfection. Every single detail of it was planned and executed with precision, surely something made by his wife.

You were grateful for Steve’s insistence on helping you pay for your outfit. Your beautiful, floor-length, golden embroidered dress, with which you had fallen in love as soon as you laid eyes on it, would probably have cost you a kidney. You felt beautiful in it. Your hair and makeup were done by professionals, and the heels that squeezed your toes made the perfect combination of grace and beauty. It could almost be compared to a fairytale.

"You look beautiful." was the first thing Steve managed to say. The way he smiled and his eyes went wide as soon as they landed on you is an image you will keep in your brain forever. A few seconds after he composed himself, he pulled you into a kiss, a long, passionate kiss.

You don’t think you’ve ever smiled brighter in your life.

Steves' hand held the back of your waist, guiding you through the sea of dresses and tuxedos. The dance floor was open; people were already dancing to the melodic tune. As you reached the front of the room, you noticed all eyes were on you. You suppose it wasn’t a surprise that the girl that Captain America had brought to such a serious event was a spectacle on its own. Finally reaching your table, you noticed Bucky and Sam were already at your table next to some of their friends/coworkers. A shower of compliments rained on Steve and you, making heat reach both your faces.

"Wow. You look great, shortcake. "

"You look amazing, baby."

"You guys look really good together."

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Smiles, laughter, and alcohol fill your memories. You’ll never forget how happy you were at that time. Hanging out with people you’ve only seen on the news and magazine covers who were surprisingly welcoming was an odd situation. They laughed, they made mistakes, and they were funny. They were just people, after all.

You turned around to see Steve’s face, but, for a quick moment, all that greeted you was a frown. His hand was holding yours, but his mind was elsewhere. An internal turmoil was happening inside his head that he wouldn’t let you see as his eyes were stuck looking at the crowd across the room.

And as quickly as it came, that frown disappeared. His eyes connected with yours, and he placed a kiss on your temple.

He dragged you away to the dance floor, his hand still linked to yours as you found a spot in the middle. The way he had stood up so quickly had scared you, his eyes no longer covered by the complex storm of thoughts he was having. One of his hands found its way to your waist, his hold pressing you against his chest. The other one grabbed your hand as he led you through the music. A soft romantic melody was playing, the couples around you melted into each other, and, to your surprise, you did the same.

Blue eyes stared at you, and for the first time in a while, they didn’t feel cold. They were warm, the type of warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. The type of warmth that raises butterflies in your stomach and heats your face. It's the type of warmth that makes you want to stay there forever, because no matter where you are or what you do, nothing will ever compare to that.

And just like that, it was like the past few months didn’t exist. The unsavory taste that distance and rejection had left in your mouth was washed away with a simple look. A true testimony of how love can make us so naïve and a horrible reminder of how weak this man could make you.

Once again, he kisses you, but this time it feels different. It’s intense and deep, his hands gripping you as they travel all over your body. The kiss had so much behind it, your brain was going haywire trying to read it all while your heart was about to burst out of your chest. It wasn’t lustful or aggressive as the other ones had been the past week. It meant something different to him.

It meant love.

You had been waiting for this so long that now that it was happening, you couldn’t believe it. If it wasn’t for his touch, you could’ve sworn you were floating. The endless music and murmuring from the crowd disappeared under the spell of him.

The kiss was perfect until it wasn’t.

His lips broke apart from yours too soon. His hands fell from your body. He put as much distance as he could with a step back.

You opened your eyes, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. His chest was heaving up and down while he looked past you. The same love you had felt was still reflected in his eyes, but this time they were also hurt. There was so much pain in them that he looked on the verge of breaking. Heartbreak

With a trembling heart, you turned around to find a woman standing in the middle of the crowd with a lonely tear streaming down her face. A beautiful woman with long blonde silky hair wrapped around a perfect black satin dress stood there with the same look in her eyes as Steve’s. You’d recognize that look anywhere; the same broken eyes of someone that was still in love with the past.

She truly was breathtaking. This was the first time you had ever seen her, and you could understand why Steve was smitten by her. She was perfect in every way. Attractive, beautiful, confident, and, based on what he had told you, smart. How could he not still love her?

This wasn’t your love story. It was theirs.

Steve didn’t notice when you left the dance floor. Neither when you went straight to the bar and started drinking your sorrows away. What was the point of loving a man who would never look at you like he looks at her?

You should’ve taken this as a sign to go home. The crushing reality of how you love someone that will never love you was already a good enough reason to leave. But as the stubborn, heartbroken woman that you were, you stayed. Not to save your dignity, but to use Stark's vast collection of whiskeys, vodkas, and tequilas.

Maybe if you would’ve left, your heart could’ve still been saved.

The bitter taste of the whiskey wasn’t a problem for you anymore. The way you were drinking it, anyone could’ve thought it was water. After your sixth shot, you were still, in some ways, self-aware enough to know you were about to cause a spectacle of yourself if you kept drinking in public. You grabbed the bottle you were pouring yourself from, stumbling away from the bartender as he yelled at you for leaving without paying.

"Put it on Captain America’s tab."

Bucky had yelled your name as you kept walking away. Your eyes connected for a few seconds, and his worried stare intensified. He knew. Of course he had seen the whole ordeal going down, it didn’t really surprise you. After all, Bucky was the one that warned you about her after returning. The one that still wanted to spare your feelings from all this pain.

Somehow you ended up going through a door. Behind it was a room filled with chairs, tables, and other furniture. Props that they probably used for other types of events. Before you got the chance to turn around, moans and whines reach your ears. The nature of the noises was obvious, and by the sounds of it, they were both having a good time. But something about them sent chills down your spine. Something was wrong.

"Fuck, baby."

You froze in your place.

That voice. The moans. The panting.

You’ve heard them before.

No, no, no, no, no.

"God, I missed you so much"

You wanted to leave, go as far away from them as you could. But as you stood there, holding the pieces of your heart together, you realized you couldn’t move. It felt as if the only thing holding you together was your steadiness. Even the sightless movement felt as if it could open the door of hurt you were fighting so hard to stop.

"You didn’t seem to miss me that much twenty minutes ago," she said between pants

"She’s not you. She’ll never be you."

Every word that left his mouth was meant to hurt you, whether it was intentionally or not. Your efforts to keep yourself whole were useless; bits and pieces of your heart slipped away from you. How could he say all those things? How could he have so little regard for you? You knew you could never fill the void she left, but you had hoped that maybe he would see you for who you were and love you for who you were.

A hand grabbed your shoulder, making you jump. It was Bucky, and by the way he was looking at you, he had heard what his best friend had said. Your dignity was added to the list of things Steve Rogers took from you. His arm was wrapped around you to guide you out of the room. You didn’t move, and you didn’t want to leave yet. Something inside you needed to see him. Bucky's eyes pleaded with you to walk out with him, let him take you away and leave them behind. But you had to face the truth at its fullest, no matter how ugly and hurtful it was.

You got close enough to see them. It hurt more than you thought it would. She was spread open on top of a sort of desk they'd found. Her dress was now bunched up around her waist; his hands held the side of her legs as he pounded again and again inside her.

That wasn’t what made your heart slip away from your chest, though. It was the words he said next.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it was you under me. How many times I almost call her your name? I almost asked her if I could."

"I’ve never wanted her, not really."

"Even when I kissed her tonight, I could only look at you."

Steve Rogers was cruel.

Steve Rogers never cared about you.

He had played with your heart for his own benefit. He had given you false hope in his efforts to not be alone. He didn’t see you as a friend, a lover, or a human being either. He just saw you as a temporary replacement.

The piercing pain in your chest was all that was left, your heart no longer in its place. The other times where you felt your heart cracking were nothing compared to this. The more his words sat on your mind, the stronger the pain got. Waves of pain and grief hit you as you tried to process what was going on.

You backed down, your trembling legs failing you as you tried to move. You thought you were about to crash on the floor, but Bucky's hands had been there to catch you. He held you tightly against him, your hand covering your mouth so you would not make a sound. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. But all you could do was stay there and feel.

This time, Bucky's hands held you tightly, more persistent than before, and they guided you outside. In your haziness, you didn’t realize you accidentally stumbled with a bunch of brooms on the side of the path. The loud crash echoed through the room. You heard Steve’s surprised gasp, and unfortunately for you, you weren’t out of sight just yet. With all the remaining strength you had, you turned back to see him.

"Shit," you somehow heard him whisper.

Both your eyes connected, he knew you'd heard what he said. His expression mirrored the one you had when you had seen them. Surprise, shock, and sadness. He saw the pain all over your face, the way Bucky held you so you wouldn’t crumble apart as your heart did. A flash of regret ran through his eyes when he saw the way you were holding your chest.

Regret.

He felt bad for being a fucking asshole.

That made you fucking livid.

How dare he feel regret for stomping all over your heart? How dare he feel sad for using you, over and over and over again, until there was nothing left for you to give him? How fucking dare he feel bad about all this mess when he was the one that created it?

He had no right to feel bad. He never cared about you or anyone else other than her.

You heard him yell your name, pleading with you to wait as he fumbled with his clothes. Bucky's grip on you grew tighter. Perhaps he thought you would be stupid enough to wait for him to explain whatever he wanted to explain. Fortunately for you, you weren’t as masochistic as everyone thought.

"Wait! Please, let me explain." You heard him beg before you went through the door.

You didn’t cry when you saw them together or when you heard him say those vile words. Neither did you cry when Bucky took you to your apartment or when he helped you settle into your bed. Or when he slipped under the covers after you grabbed his hand because you didn’t want to be alone, not anymore. You didn’t cry, not even when he held you closer all night, hoping this could help your broken heart.

You didn’t cry for Steve Rogers anymore.

He could go fuck himself for all you cared.

Toothbrush, skin care routine, passport, makeup bag, laptop, tablet. Everything was in place in your last bag. With a satisfied huff, you closed your suitcase and left it at the front door. A quick glance at the clock you had on your coffee table let you know you still had 5 minutes to spare.

You dropped on the couch, your back thanking you for the necessary rest it needed after a hectic morning of re-organizing your suitcases. Your month-long trip was turning out to be a two-month-long one. With Bucky's press tour taking two weeks longer than planned and you cashing out your two weeks of vacation savings, the clothes you packed weren't enough.

The vacation destination of your trip was still undecided. Maybe somewhere sunny and tropical, ideal to get the perfect tan you couldn’t get in New York. Or maybe you'd go to a secluded cabin in the mountains, knowing how much you needed some alone time. Your fantasies were interrupted by your phone's ringtone. You didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it was.

Steve had called you every day since the gala. The first call you got from him was the hardest to ignore. The picture you had taken of both of you covered your screen as it kept ringing. In all honesty, you would’ve probably picked up the call if it weren’t for Bucky's intense glare. The way Bucky's eyes could speak to you always amazed you and, in this case, you knew what they were saying Don't be stupid, don’t give in.

After that first call, you got another three that day, much to your annoyance. Then the next day there were six calls, then eight. It seemed the more you ignored him, the more persistent he became. Fortunately for you, for the past few days you didn’t see him, your schedule clearing up since you took the position as Bucky's companion, instead leaving your coworkers all the heavy work of dealing with superheroes.

But after the first ignored calls came the texts. Then the messages passed through coworkers. Then there were the flowers. If only he had done this before he broke your heart.

The incessant ringing came back. You thought after the last six days went by without an answer, the message would be pretty clear, but apparently another strong characteristic of Steve Rogers was his persistence. A persistence that wouldn’t stop, not even if it would spare you from all the pain he caused you. Nothing mattered as long as he could take whatever he wanted.

Steve Rogers was selfish. You were done with selfish.

So you answered the phone.

"Stop calling me!" you screamed into the device.

"Please, just let me—"

"Whatever you want to say to me, I don’t want to hear it. Stop calling me, stop texting me, stop asking about me, stop sending flowers or whatever the fuck you buy for me. Stop. Trying. To. Contact. Me."

Your own words surprised you. The strength that came from within them freed the tightness in your chest that you’ve had for so long. Your harsh words were met with silence, neither of you daring to hang up. You didn’t notice when your eyes started to well up, when your hands were shaking or when your muscles were so tense, they begged you to relax.

What seemed like minutes went by with the same quietness, both your heavy breathings were the only things letting you know you were still in the call. After a few more moments, Steve finally gave in and broke the silence.

"I’m sorry." he whispers.

You huffed. "That doesn’t change anything"

"I know."

Maybe the best option would've been to hang up and cut things now before you were exposed again. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, love and grief are rarely driven by reason.

"You knew, didn’t you?" Your voice trembled.

"Knew what?"

"That I..."

That I love you, is what you wanted to say. However, your chest constricted within itself every time you were reminded of your own feelings. You couldn't do it, not saying it out loud was the only spec of dignity you had left and your death grip on it was lifesaving.

You cleared your throat, your hand clutched at the edge of the couch as a way to embrace yourself. "That I have feelings for you"

"Yes," he answered reluctantly.

"Yet you still used me."

A few seconds passed before he was able to muster a weak response. "Yes"

Silence really was deafening. Never in a million years did you think the most menacing sound of a relationship crumbling apart would be silence. There are so many meanings that can only be expressed through the lack of words. Silence meant pain and heartbreak, but it also meant acceptance.

And bitterness came with acceptance.

"I’ll see you in a couple of months." you scoffed.

"No, please!" he pleaded before you could hang up. "Please don’t leave. Your coworkers told me you’re going with Bucky to his press tour today, but I want to see you. I need to see you." His voice was shaky, an undecipherable tone spilling from his rushed words that almost made you change your mind. Almost.

"Stay, please."

Love was a strange force. It was supposed to be selfless, giving, and forgiving. But once you didn’t have anything else to give, it was easy to not feel it. Even if it was there, lingering in the back of your head.

A couple of weeks ago, you would’ve given everything to stay if he asked you, without a single doubt. But now, the connection and devotion you had to the super soldier are buried. You had built walls so high up that not even the warmest of words could make them crumble.

You had to save your heart, whatever was left of it.

"No"

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated!

A/N:There will be a second part to this, more info on it here.

Part 2 is already out.

Requests are OPEN

#comment reblog

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

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hello!! I just read your shot I loved you once and I just wanted to say tumblr is not letting me reblog it properly with a comment. it was AMAZING and easily a new favorite!!! i love the way how everything just flows as you write it, so heartfelt yet so painful. i'm now following!

Hii! Hahahaha your pic just made me laugh so much.

I think the fic is too long cause sometimes when I want to reblog it to answer a comment it just wont let me :c but thank you so much ❤️❤️ I'm so happy to hear how it made you feel, especially hearing is a favorite ❤️ there's more angsty/painful things with bucky coming so wait for the pain. Thank you for letting me know you liked it ❤️

#inbox #i really love this picture lol

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

Thank you so much ❤️❤️

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now

"Fuck you," you spat the words.

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.

Please, fix this.

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"

"Don’t fucking touch me."

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."

"Can you just—"

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."

He deserved it either way.

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.

"Oh."

Could you ever forgive him?

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.

Thump, thump, thump.

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.

"Good"

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."

Then

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.

"I’m James."

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.

Now

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."

But he couldn’t say anything.

"Say something!"

"You’re beautiful."

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You sighed.

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"

"They had traces of the super serum."

Fuck.

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.

"Yeah."

This was different, though. This was sinister.

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."

"Well, let’s take him in and—"

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.

Compromise. You could do compromise.

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.

So he agreed.

"Yeah."

"Good. I’ll meet you outside."

Then

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.

The man was hotter than the sun.

"No problem." you smiled at him.

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."

"You would?" he questioned.

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.

You made him smile for the first time.

"Yeah. I’d like that."

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.

Now

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.

Broken.

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.

"Bucky!"

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn’t."

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."

"Oh."

"He said you’re going to therapy."

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."

You hummed, sipping on your tea.

"Does it work?"

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself

But he broke the silence.

"What do you mean?"

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.

A cup of lavender tea.

Then

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.

"It’s ok. I got you."

He would give you anything you asked for.

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.

Now

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.

"I—"

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."

"He was about to torture you!"

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"

"I’ve always cared."

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.

"Sure."

"Look at me."

You swatted him away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."

"I never stopped loving you."

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.

"I’m sorry."

A lapse of judgment.

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.

Beg me, your eyes said.

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.

"Fuck."

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.

"Me too." he finally admitted.

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.

"Inside."

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."

Then

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.

Oh, how right you had been.

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.

Bucky had been real.

With his departure, he had also taken your heart.

That is, until a ray of hope appeared.

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.

Steve left shortly after.

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.

This Bucky never hugged you.

This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.

This Bucky never said I love you.

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.

Things got worse a couple of months later.

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.

You were wrong.

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.

You left with half a heart that night.

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.

"Hi."

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.

"Yeah, of sorts."

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.

"Oh."

"You have a nice place here."

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

It couldn’t be.

"Clara let me in."

No.

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

His mouth answered without his permission.

"Does it even matter?"

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.

Now

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.

"You ok?" he had whispered.

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.

Hope. A tiny silver of hope.

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."

Forever

"Thanks for helping me."

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."

"How was your date?"

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.

"What?"

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.

"Bucky, ask me."

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.

This time, neither of you was scared.

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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cherryblossom-heart · 1 year

Text

Hi!!! Thanks for your comment, I love seeing long comments like this and I love to see how people read into my fics. So I'm so glad you don't see this as a cheating fic, I mean I called it like that because it's a part of the story and I knew it would be what most people would focus on (and I guess I was right) but like you and kj-dara said, this is more about grief, heartbreak, etc., I wrote this wanting to put Bucky as someone who hurt Reader very deeply and cheated on her but also to understand that somethings are not black and white as you say but just messy. We are all human, we all make mistakes and sometimes we also have the possibility to try and mend what was broken, and part of that was seeing Bucky's side of the story cause I think without it, if I just had left the part where he's like "I'm sorry, I was a dick, I love you." it would just be too superficial and honestly wouldn't even be possible to forgive.

And you're right, this is not the ending for them but a new beginning and seeing your comment has made me realized that I should change the title of the scene "Forever" for "Beginning" or "New Beginnings" I think its way more fitting as both of you had said, they are different people that are working in a new relationship, the love they have is not the same as the one in their previous relationship.

Thank you for your comment, I loved it with all my heart ❤️

I loved you once B.B

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

19.1 k words

A/N 2: Regarding asks Also there will be an alternate ending

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Now

"Fuck you," you spat the words.

"Is that all? I really don’t have time for this."

"Are you kidding me? That’s all you’re going to say?"

"I always knew you were capable of many things, but not once did I think you would ever be this cruel."

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes rolling with the uninterested façade he had perfected.

"I’m done, I can’t keep doing this anymore." You turned your back, strong and determined steps leading to his apartment door.

Please, fix this.

"God, stop being so goddamed drama—"

"Don’t fucking touch me."

"Don’t try to contact me ever again, I won’t answer."

"Can you just—"

"If I ever see you again I swear I’ll murder you. I didn’t kill you the first time we met but I swear I’ll do it if you even dare to breath in my direction."

He deserved it either way.

"Why are we stopping here?" Bucky asked with a frown. His own duffle was placed across his back, the tinkering of the metal inside it annoying him slightly.

"Oh."

Could you ever forgive him?

You lost all three of them in the span of a year.

Thump, thump, thump.

With strong, rough movements, the man turned you around, pressing your body against the railing. As his hand grabbed your neck, your hips grinded against his, your mouth open as you licked your lips.

He knew. Somehow the man knew who he was and, most importantly, who you were.

"I know who you are." The man whispered in your ear—a threat not so subtly hidden behind every word.

"Good"

He didn’t know whose blood it belonged to, and that frightened him.

Sam’s voice pulled him out of his trance. "What the hell happened?"

His friend had managed to make his way to him, both of them still getting pushed around. Bucky offered him a quick glance before resuming his previous task of making his way to the stairs.

When his fingers finally grabbed the banister of the stairs, Bucky was close to losing his mind. Climbing two steps at a time, he finally found himself a scene that froze him in the spot.

Then, you remembered why all your hopes and dreams had been destroyed.

Perhaps if his mind hadn't been plagued with all the things he wanted to do, he would’ve noticed your foot rising to give him a solid kick on the chest.

"I told you if I ever saw you again, I would fucking kill you."

Then

Maybe it would’ve been better if he had actually died when he fell from that train.

"I wouldn’t do it if I were you," you said coolly. "I promise you, I’ll blow your brains out before you can even land a hit."

After your words filled the room, Bucky’s eyes finally took their chance to look at you, actually look at you.

God, you were beautiful.

Thump, thump, thump.

"Sorry about the whole thing holding you hostage," you said as he welcomed the cup.

"It’s whatever, I would’ve done the same thing if I were you." Bucky answered after a few seconds.

"I’m James."

He could’ve sworn he heard you smile before you gave him your name.

Now

"What the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?"

You, on the other hand, were reminded of the suffering he caused you with every passing second.

"I told you to stay away from me," you muttered.

You felt anger. You felt resentment. You felt pure, long-lasting hatred.

"Maybe I should slit your throat right now, that’ll make you stay away from me permanently."

But he couldn’t say anything.

"Say something!"

"You’re beautiful."

Your grip faltered on the knife, your eyebrows slightly furrowing at his words.

Then why did your heart flutter at his words?

"Hey," Sam said, breaking the silence, your head snapping in his direction."I know he’s an asshole, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill my partner."

"I told you to only contact me in emergencies," you grumbled.

"Believe me, if we had a choice, we wouldn’t have come," Sam said.

So you put aside your feelings because helping people mattered more than an idiot who broke your heart.

"What do you want?" You sighed.

You shrug. "They take the kids, so?"

"They had traces of the super serum."

Fuck.

You laughed. A joyless, cynical type of laugh. Destiny, of course, had to be a jerk.

"Are you saying that—?" Sam couldn’t finish his sentence, the thought sending chills along his spine.

"Yeah."

This was different, though. This was sinister.

"Look at this guy over there," you said, motioning behind you. "He has intel on this, he’s the one that gets the girls and delivers them."

"Well, let’s take him in and—"

"Just, don’t kill him." Sam said before walking away.

Compromise. You could do compromise.

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Thanks for helping us." He spoke, thinking it was an appropriate way to break the ice, but it only managed to make you scoff.

Say something. Fight for her. Explain what happened, his mind begged him.

But he couldn’t, because even if it had been almost a year since he last saw you, he was still the same coward who let you walk away without a fight.

So he agreed.

"Yeah."

"Good. I’ll meet you outside."

Then

"Thanks for the coffee." Bucky said before taking a sip.

The man was hotter than the sun.

"No problem." you smiled at him.

You had to cut this at the root before it became too hard to let go.

"So, you’re going to Wakanda?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Steve says they have someone that might be able to help with... help with my..."

"You would?" he questioned.

"If you want me, too," you shrugged, trying not to reveal your excitement.

You made him smile for the first time.

"Yeah. I’d like that."

And as you lay next to him, your head against his shoulder, you thought to yourself that maybe you could be selfish for once and allow yourself to enjoy his company a bit more.

Now

"Please don’t do this," she begged with a Spanish accent. "I don’t want to die, please."

"Kill her," a distorted voice told him. His eyes glanced at him quickly, and he noticed the man had no face. No one around them had one.

But even if he tried for years, he couldn’t win. He was powerless.

Broken.

He didn’t want to be awake. Not like this.

And as he felt himself disappearing, he hoped this was the last time he came back to the surface. He would rather be surrounded by emptiness.

Yet something interrupted him, pulling him back up.

A woman's voice, so familiar it made his heartbeat change.

"Bucky!"

"Bucky," you repeated. His head snapped at you, showing you a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

Was it possible to hate and care about someone at the same time?

"Nightmares?" you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

His left hand rubbed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips. "Yeah. Sorry if I woke you up."

"You didn’t."

"Where’s Sam?" he asked, sitting straight as a couple of droplets of sweat fell down his forehead.

"He has a contact in the city. He left to meet them."

"Oh."

"He said you’re going to therapy."

He was taken aback by your question. It probably was the first time you said more than the necessary to him. Also, it was the first time that you showed any sort of interest in his life.

"Uh, yeah. Court mandated."

You hummed, sipping on your tea.

"Does it work?"

Bucky didn’t change much after all, you thought to yourself

But he broke the silence.

"What do you mean?"

But behind the tough exterior, he could see your eyes had softened. For a brief second, your eyes showed care and understanding to what he siad before going back to the usual void stare you gave him.

"She sounds like a bad therapist." He shrugged in agreement, he couldn’t say anything against the truth. "She also sounds like a bitch."

You couldn’t help but laugh with him too.

But moments like that couldn’t last forever. Your heart couldn’t afford to remember.

A text message from Sam lit up your screen, saying his contact had useful information. You stood up from the table after texting him back and drank the rest of the cup's contents.

"You should try to get some sleep, we have a long day ahead."

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"Yeah, you’re right. I’ll try to."

With nothing left to say, you walked away, leaving Bucky in the loneliness of the night.

Your steps brought you back to him before you placed an object on the coffee table right beside him.

A cup of lavender tea.

Then

"It’s kinda late to be outside, huh?"

Something had happened? Was someone injured? Were you in trouble?

He also came to hate every time you would leave, feeling like a part of himself was leaving with you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His forehead rested on yours, both your eyes closing at the contact.

"It’s ok. I got you."

He would give you anything you asked for.

His hand rested on your face, tracing circles across your cheek, your eyes closed at the soothing action.

"I’m sorry." Your voice trembled. He could see you wanted to say more, but words failed to come out of your mouth

Bucky’s heart ached. He had never seen you in such a vulnerable state, and his mind was going cray at the thought of not being able to do anything to help you.

"It’s ok, sunshine. You don’t have to talk about it."

That night, you kissed him for the first time. You didn’t stop, not even the next morning when he woke you up with breakfast already made and a cup of lavender tea.

Now

"Bring him to the table!" you yelled.

Your hand swept across the surface, knocking over every piece of paper, pencil, and piece of equipment. The vibrations of the heavier objects on the concrete floors matched the beating of your heart.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

You didn’t remember walking outside the bathroom, nor did you remember walking up to him and slapping away the cup of water his hand held.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you barked at him.

"I—"

"What did you want me to do? Just stand there and do nothing?" he argued.

Maybe if things hadn’t gone sour between you two, you would’ve listened to what he said, and in return, he would’ve listened to you. But the anger was too strong to be subdued.

"I wanted you to follow the fucking plan."

"He was about to torture you!"

A heartbeat passed before Bucky came close to your face. His big frame towered over you, and his breathing hit your face.

"You’re fucking delusional if you think I was just going to let anything happen to you."

You scoffed, "Oh, so now you care?"

"I’ve always cared."

You pulled away from him, your eyes rolling at his pathetic words.

"Sure."

"Look at me."

You swatted him away.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

But this time he wasn't going down without a fight.Not again.

"I know I was an asshole at the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you anymore."

You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, the blue eyes that once hurt you shining the same way they did the first time you kissed him.

"I did love you," he whispered into your lips. "I still do."

"Don’t." Your lower lip quivered. "Y-you can't just break my heart and then come back into my life and just say you still love me."

"I never stopped loving you."

Those five words were all it took to tear down what little control you had over yourself. A year ago it would've broken you to hear them but now they only brought a deep sense of indignation.

He hated himself for extinguishing parts of you.

"I’m sorry."

A lapse of judgment.

He tasted like the past, but he still hurt like the present.

"I hate you," you whispered between kisses. "I fucking hate you."

"I know," he mumbled against your lips.

"I hate you," you repeated as a mantra.

Beg me, your eyes said.

"Please, Sunshine." His hands gripped your waist, his hips grinding against your still-wrapped core, sending shivers down your spine."Please, let me see you."

All those memories didn’t compare to watching you in the flesh, with hungry, hateful eyes on him as you walked back to straddle him again.

"Fuck."

You felt amazing on top of him, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound against his chest.

Broken eyes now stared at you with the ghost of tears in them. The anger that had driven your actions and your thoughts through all this had now subsided, allowing itself to mix with melancholy.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you. His eyes said.

I hate you. I’ll never forgive you. I wish I never met you. Yours answered.

And in the middle of the lust that was taking place right on the couch, both of your hearts broke again.

"So tight." He moaned in your mouth as you sank into him.

You didn’t want love from him. You didn’t want tenderness or care. You wanted roughness. You wanted strength and aggressiveness until the only thing you could feel was the ache between your legs.

The super soldier gave you what you wanted.

You hated how much you missed him and how much you needed him.

"Me too." he finally admitted.

He tried to pull out so he could fist himself to the end but you didn’t budge, instead whispering in his ear.

"Inside."

Except they weren’t. Bucky wasn’t the man who made you feel secure anymore, and you weren’t the woman who trusted him with all her heart. Both of them belonged to the past.

"I don’t love you anymore. I will never love you again." you broke the silence.

Bucky held you tighter as his heart broke once again.

"I don’t deserve your love." He whispered. "But I’ll still love you forever."

Then

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy.

Those were a few of the reasons why he had asked you to marry him. And those were also a few of the reasons why you had said yes.

Oh, how right you had been.

Unfortunately for you, the heartbreak would come in a way you couldn’t have prevented.

Bucky had been real.

With his departure, he had also taken your heart.

That is, until a ray of hope appeared.

The thing about hope is that it comes with a price. Natasha and Tony were the price to pay.

Steve left shortly after.

Everyone was gone but Sam and Bucky.

Bucky. Your Bucky. The man you had spent the past five years crying for. The man who made you the happiest you'd ever felt.The man who felt like home.

But he wasn't your Bucky any longer.

This Bucky never hugged you.

This Bucky never talked to you with love only with annoyance and indifference.

This Bucky never woke you up with breakfast.

This Bucky never tried to sleep with you.

This Bucky never said I love you.

Because this Bucky didn’t love you.

Things got worse a couple of months later.

As it turned out, time had taken a toll on Steve’s body, and one night he went to bed and never woke up. You found it a bit ironic the man out of time had finally run out of time.

You wanted to be there to help him through his pain.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

The shock of his stare lingered in you for a moment, but you quickly returned to yourself, a friendly smile on your face."I came to leave a little parting gift."

For a few moments, you felt comfortable next to him. The first time in months since he came back. But good moments like that never lasted long.

But you fought for him, even when he seemed to not deserve it.

You were wrong.

"You have no idea how I feel," he said before leaving.

That night you came back to your cabin, and Bucky’s things were gone. The only thing left was a note that rested in the middle of the bed.

I found an apartment in the city. I need space.

You kept your word until Strange came to visit you, announcing news about Wanda. She was dead.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Bucky," you called. Your voice was broken, you tried to fight the tears away, but saying his name broke what little self-control you had left. "Please open the door."

"I know you’re in there." You cried. The tears that ran down your face landed on the floor. "I just— I know I said I could be strong for the both of us, but... I need you."

You knocked on the door again, this time with the side of your fist. The desperate sound of your knocking bounced through the walls of the deserted hallway.

You couldn’t do this alone, not anymore. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

"I love you. God, I love you so much. I know you want space, but right now I need your love, Bucky. I need you to love me like you used to. Please love me." You begged.

And you waited. You waited for what seemed like hours, but it probably was just thirty minutes until you accepted he wasn’t coming out.

You left with half a heart that night.

"Bucky!" you yelled as you knocked aggressively. "Bucky, open the fucking door!"

Except the person who opened the door wasn’t Bucky.

It was a girl. A short brunette that was covered by Bucky’s black T-shirt and nothing more.

"Hi."

"Umm, Bucky is not here." She said awkwardly, your intense stared made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know where he is?" You questioned her. The words came out rougher than you intended, but as the heartbreak and despair set in, you couldn't care less.

"No. I, um, when I woke up he was already gone." She pulled the hem of the t-shirt down in an effort to convey her nervousness, but it only infuriated you more. "Are you a friend of his?"

You wanted to laugh. God, this couldn’t be happening.

"Yeah, of sorts."

"I can let you in so we can wait for him, but I have to leave in like twenty minutes."

"You can’t call him?" you asked, bitterly. You knew Bucky had gotten a new phone but he never gave you his number.

Her face blushed before she answered. "No, uh. We met last night, and he didn’t give me his number.

"Oh."

"You have a nice place here."

"How the hell did you get in here?" he barked.

It was the pain of heartbreak and betrayal.

It couldn’t be.

"Clara let me in."

No.

"Nice girl, she left her number for you."

Instead of doing everything he could to fix this, he shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

"How long?" you asked. Bucky could see your eyes watering as you tried to keep yourself together. He hated himself. "How long have you been cheating on me?"

His mouth answered without his permission.

"Does it even matter?"

You didn’t budge, so Bucky finally answered, not before rolling his eyes. "She’s the only one. I met her yesterday in a bar. "He shrugged. "It just happened."

Bucky Barnes didn’t love you anymore.

Now

You found the intel, you knew every single name of everyone involved with the heinous experiments you were chasing.

"You ok?" he had whispered.

You nodded, but your mind was still fuzzy, perhaps you had hit your head, but you couldn’t remember much.

Then why were you fighting so hard to save him?

"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. You can’t do this to me!"

"Bucky wake the fuck up!"

"Please! I can’t lose you like this!"

You remembered clinging to him as he tried to sit straight, the desperation finally gone from your body.

Just for today, you would allow yourselves to comfort each other.

So you allowed yourself to feel and to talk. For both your sake and his.

"Why did you do it?" you broke the silence. His breathing faltered as your hand retracted back to your side. "Why did you hurt me like that?"

He asked himself that question when you walked out of his life.

You deserved the truth. The whole, unapologetic, heartfelt truth. So he gave it to you.

"It wasn’t your fault." You tried to argue, but his words interrupted you.

Hope. A tiny silver of hope.

"Do you think there is a chance for us in the future?"

"That’s ok. I'm not going to ask about it again unless you want me to."

Forever

"Thanks for helping me."

"Don’t thank me, I’m only doing it for the beer."

"How was your date?"

You shrug. "It was ok, not that great to be honest."

"I love you, I’ll always love you. But if you need me as a friend and nothing more, then I’ll be your friend."

No one ever compared to Bucky Barnes, because after all the lies, heartbreak, and death surrounding you, he was still the only person who felt like home.

"Ask me" you uttered. Your voice was so quiet that you thought he wouldn't hear you, but his puzzled expression told you otherwise.

"What?"

Your hand grabbed his, your thumb was drawing circles on his skin.

"Bucky, ask me."

But you were giving him an opportunity, and he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

"Would you—" he paused, clearing his throat.The nervousness inside him erased his ability to speak. "Would you like to go out for dinner? As in a date?"

You made it seem as if you were thinking about it, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew your answer already.

"Yeah, I guess I can make time for one date."

You smiled. You gave him your biggest, most genuine smile in a long time.He smiled too.

Loving Bucky Barnes hadn’t been easy. But as you both lay in your beds, his hands caressing your face and new hope brewing between you, your heart told you that this time would be different.

This time, neither of you was scared.

This time, loving him would come as easily as breathing.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

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