Bucky Barnes BabyDoll ᡣ𐭩

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The unspoken tension

Joaquin is still standing there, wide-eyed, arms crossed as if he just walked straight into a live grenade.He turns to Sam, muttering under his breath, “Okay. So. Just to be clear. That was not a normal team meeting, right?”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not even close.”Joaquin exhales. “Good. Because I genuinely thought I was about to die in there.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, but it’s tired. Joaquin hesitates, glancing toward the door. “So… what the hell was that?”

Sam looks at him. Really looks at him.

And then, with a heavy breath, he says, “That? That was seven years of grief, heartbreak, and trauma finally catching up to all of us.”

Joaquin frowns. “I mean, yeah, I got that part. But what’s the deal with her and Barnes?”. Sam sighs. “That, my friend, is a whole other can of worms.”

Joaquin raises a brow. “Give me the short version.”

Sam rubs a hand down his face. “The short version? They were in love. She lost him to the Blip for five years. She risked her life to bring him back. And when she did?”

Joaquin waits. Sam exhales sharply.

“He left her.”

Joaquin blinks. “Damn.”. “Yeah,” Sam mutters. “Damn.”

Joaquin shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, uh- remind me to never walk into something like this again.”. Sam snorts. “Oh, trust me, you don’t need reminding.”

Joaquin crosses his arms, still processing everything. Then, after a beat, he turns to Sam and asks,

“So… how did they even meet?”

Sam lets out a breath, shaking his head like he’s been waiting for that question. “Man. That is a long-ass story.”

Joaquin smirks. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam huffs a laugh, leaning back against the table. “Alright. Buckle up, Torres, because this one’s a rollercoaster.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Sam exhales, glancing toward the door where you and Tony had both walked out. His expression softens just a bit.

“It was back where Sokovia Accords kinda shit, tony versus Steve beef,” Sam starts, voice lower now, like he’s telling some old legend. “Bucky was still on the run, brainwashing still messing with his head. And her?” He huffs. “She was still just Stark’s daughter back then. Smart as hell, but young.. hell, we were all young.”

Joaquin leans in slightly. “So what happened?” Sam smirks. “She met him. And from the second she did? It was game over.”

Joaquin tilts his head. “Love at first sight?”

Sam chuckles. “More like enemies to whatever-the-hell-this-is.” Joaquin grins. “Sounds messy.”

“Oh, it was,” Sam confirms. “She was supposed to hate him. Did hate him, at first. But that girl’s got a heart bigger than her damn ego, and Bucky?” He shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know what it was, but something in him just… gravitated toward her.”

Joaquin listens, intrigued. “And then what?” Sam gives him a look. “And then they spent years dancing around each other. Fighting, saving each other’s asses, getting way too close but never close enough. Until finally?” He exhales. “They stopped running.”

Joaquin nods slowly, piecing it all together. “And then the Blip happened.” Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“And she lost him.”

“For five years,” Sam emphasizes, voice tinged with something sad. “And when she finally got him back?”

Joaquin already knows the answer. “He left.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah. He left.”

Joaquin leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have come here today.”

Sam snorts. “Told you.” Joaquin shakes his head, still wrapping his head around it. “So what now?”

Sam glances toward the door again, his expression unreadable. “Now?” he says. “Now we wait for the fallout.”

Joaquin smirks, tilting his head as an idea sparks in his mind.

“Or…” he drawls, crossing his arms with a grin. “Let me be the knight in shining armor.”

Sam immediately groans. “Oh, hell no.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “What? She’s single, I’m single, and let’s be real, have you seen me?” He gestures to himself. “I’m a damn catch.”

Sam looks like he’s fighting for his life not to smack him upside the head. “Torres. Listen to me very carefully.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “That woman? She’s been through hell. And if you so much as think about playing games-”

Joaquin holds up his hands, mock offense on his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about playing games? I’m just saying, maybe she needs a distraction.” He smirks. “And who better than me?”

Sam deadpans. “You really got a death wish, huh?”

Joaquin just shrugs, still grinning. “Hey, if Barnes doesn’t want her, someone’s gotta step up.”

Sam stares at him for a long moment. Then, he exhales, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Go ahead.”

Joaquin blinks. “Wait, really?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Go be her knight in shining armor.” Then, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. “Just don’t cry to me when Barnes rips your head off.”

Joaquin falters slightly. “…He wouldn’t actually-”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Joaquin swallows, his smirk faltering slightly as he glances at Sam again.

“He’s really gonna rip my head off?”

Sam doesn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely”. Joaquin blinks. “Like… actually?”

Sam crosses his arms, giving him a pointed look. “You see the metal arm, right? The one that could punch through a truck like it’s cardboard?”

Joaquin shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, but-hypothetically-what if he, I don’t know, doesn’t kill me?”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Then you’d be the first.”Joaquin scoffs. “Come on, he’s not that bad.”Sam just stares.Joaquin hesitates. “…Right?”

Sam exhales, shaking his head. “Listen, Torres. I like you. You’re a good guy. But if you go anywhere near her?” He whistles low. “Let’s just say, I don’t think they make caskets pretty enough for what Barnes is gonna do to you.”

Joaquin rubs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Sam grins, clapping him on the back. “Hey, at least you’ll die pretty.”

Joaquin groans. “You’re so supportive, man.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Sam says, shrugging. “And I’d rather you hear it from me than from Barnes- because trust me, his warning would involve a lot more broken bones.”

Joaquin throws his hands up. “Okay, but let’s think about this for a second. Maybe just maybe he doesn’t care anymore. Maybe he’s moved on, and he won’t even—”

Sam cuts him off with a laugh so sharp and disbelieving that Joaquin physically flinches.

“Oh, Torres,” Sam says, shaking his head. “You sweet, naive little idiot.”

Joaquin frowns. “Why do I feel insulted right now?”

“Because you should,” Sam tells him. “Barnes still cares. Deeply. And if you think he’s just gonna sit back and let you swoop in like some knight in shining armor?” Sam chuckles darkly. “You got another thing coming.”

Joaquin clicks his tongue, thinking it over. “Okay. Alright. But what if she actually wants me to swoop in?”. Sam raises a brow. “You sure you wanna test that theory?”

Joaquin hesitates. “…Not anymore.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Smart man.” Then, after a beat, he smirks. “But, hey—if you do wanna test it, just let me know first. I’d love a front-row seat to the ass-whooping Barnes is gonna give you.”

Joaquin glares. “You are the worst wingman ever.”

Sam grins, completely unbothered. “Nah, I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

But Sam knows better. Joaquin will try even after the warning.

…..

The compound is quiet. Too quiet.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, nursing a drink, staring blankly at the countertop. The day had been… exhausting. Between the mission, the confrontation with Bucky, and Joaquin’s sudden presence stirring things up, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender.

And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done fucking with you, he walks in. Bucky stops when he sees you, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looks like he’s debating whether to turn around and leave.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. I’m not gonna run just because you’re here.”

His lips press together, and then because he’s just as stubborn as you… he steps further inside, heading toward the fridge. “Didn’t say you would.” You snort. “Right. Because you’re the expert on not running.”

Bucky freezes for half a second, his fingers gripping the fridge handle a little too tightly. Then, he exhales through his nose, pulling out a water bottle. “You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

You scoff. “You left, Bucky. Twice. What, do you expect me to just pretend like that didn’t destroy me?”

His blue eyes flicker to you, something dark and guilty lurking behind them. He doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, taking another sip of your drink. “It’s funny, you know. We used to- .” Your cut your words, your voice falters slightly, but you push through it. “Now I don’t even know what we are.”

Bucky swallows, gripping the water bottle like it’s the only thing grounding him. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Well, congratulations, James. You did anyway.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy.

And then, because fate has the worst timing, Joaquin’s voice rings out from the hallway.

“There you are, Stark! I’ve been looking-” He stops in his tracks when he sees you and Bucky, the tension in the air practically suffocating. “…Oh. Shit. Should I, uh—?”

Bucky’s entire posture shifts. His jaw clenches, shoulders tensing, like he’s preparing for battle. Joaquin notices, and because he’s either bold or completely reckless, he smirks.

“Well,” Joaquin drawls, stepping further inside. “This is awkward.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. “What do you want, Torres?”

Joaquin leans against the counter next to you, eyes glancing between you and Bucky like he’s trying to piece something together. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to take a walk.” He smirks again, looking directly at Bucky this time. “Unless you’re busy?”

Bucky’s grip tightens around the water bottle. You glance between them, realizing exactly what Joaquin is doing. And for some reason… you let him.

You set down your drink, standing up. “You know what? A walk sounds nice.” Joaquin grins, throwing a glance at Bucky. “Cool. Let’s go.”

As you walk past Bucky, you swear you hear the plastic of the water bottle crack in his grip.

You don’t look back.

….

The night air is cool against your skin as you and Joaquin walk side by side, the compound fading into the background. There’s a quiet ease to the moment, but the weight of everything still lingers in your chest.

Joaquin exhales, shaking his head. “Man… I really should’ve stayed home today.”

You snort. “Yeah? What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, counting on his fingers. “The insane tension, the death glare from Barnes, the way you looked like you were gonna throw a punch at any second.” He smirks. “Seriously, Stark. That was some heavy shit back there.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Yeah. Welcome to my life.”

Joaquin glances at you, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read between the lines. “So… you and him. That’s some real history, huh?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.” He hums in thought. “And you still love him.”

and you still love him. It’s not a question.

You swallow hard, keeping your gaze forward. “Doesn’t really matter.” Joaquin watches you for a second before shaking his head. “You say that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You huff out a dry laugh. “You a mind reader now, Torres?”

“Nah.” He grins. “Just really observant.”

Something in his tone makes you pause, and when you turn to look at him, there’s something in his eyes… something unreadable, but warm.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “You know… I get the feeling you don’t let a lot of people in.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. “Not really.”

Joaquin nods, like he already knew that. “Well, if you ever wanna let someone else in…” He gives you a small, knowing smirk. “Just say the word.”

Your breath catches slightly. It’s subtle- not a declaration, not a grand confession. But it’s there. The interest. The possibility.

And for the first time in years… it makes you think. You shake your head, smiling just a little. “You really don’t have a survival instinct, do you?”

Joaquin chuckles. “Hey, what’s life without a little risk?” You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “You’re insane.”

He grins. “You have no idea.”

And as you both make your way back toward the compound, you realize something..

Bucky Barnes may still hold pieces of you… but Joaquin Torres?

He’s starting to see you.

Previous Part (pt.4) | Part 5 | Next Part ( pt.6 )

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The breaking point

Joaquin settles in quickly, but you barely register the small talk happening around you. Because there’s a storm behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know exactly who’s watching.

But then—

“You’re the Stark woman.”

Joaquin’s voice pulls your focus back immediately, smooth and confident. Your lips twitch as you raise an eyebrow. “That’s what they call me?”

Joaquin grins, tilting his head. “Among other things.”. You chuckle, tilting your head. “Yeah? Like what?”

Joaquin steps in closer, like he’s enjoying this little game.

And then he says it—

“They told me you’re pretty.”

There’s a pause.A heartbeat.

Then—

“They were wrong.”

You blink, caught off guard for a split second. “Oh?”. Joaquin smirks.

“You’re a goddess.”

You can feel Wanda and Nat’s reactions without even looking,because of course they’re listening. But your brain is too busy buffering to acknowledge them.

Okay, damn.

Your lips part slightly, but before you can even formulate a response, the atmosphere in the room shifts.

Something crackles in the air.

Tension.

The kind that will swallow you. And it’s coming from behind you. Joaquin doesn’t seem to notice.But you do. You fucking do.

Because that storm?That weight against your spine?

It’s Bucky.

You don’t have to see him to feel the way his jaw must be locked, the way his fingers must be curling into his palms.

And for the first time since you came back,since you both started this silent game of pretending…

You wonder if Bucky Barnes is about to break first.

You don’t turn around.Not yet.

Because if you look at Bucky now, if you acknowledge that presence burning into your back,you might give too much away.

So you keep your attention on Joaquin, smirking slightly as you tilt your head. “A goddess, huh?”

Joaquin grins. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you,” you tease, “I just didn’t peg you for the smooth-talker type.” Joaquin chuckles, glancing at Sam. “Is that a compliment?”

Sam raises his hands, amused. “Hey, man, you’re on your own.” You can feel the weight behind you shifting. The barely restrained energy of someone holding back.

And it’s infuriatingly tempting to turn around,just to see how Bucky’s taking this. But Joaquin isn’t done.

His eyes flicker over your face, studying you. “You know, they didn’t just talk about your looks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “No?”

He shakes his head, voice dipping slightly. “They talked about how brilliant you are. How sharp.”. Your smirk softens. “They did, huh?”

Joaquin smiles. “Yeah.” Then, with a slight tilt of his head, “And how you could probably kill a man with your bare hands.”

You let out a soft laugh, eyes glinting. “You don’t believe that?”. Joaquin grins. “I think I’d like to see you try.”

The room hums with something unspoken, and for a second, you’re almost enjoying yourself,almost letting the warmth of the moment distract you.

Almost. Because then,

“You still wanna do that?”

Bucky’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. Low. Quiet. But razor-sharp. The air shifts. The tension coils tighter.

And fuck.

You swallow hard, ignoring the way your pulse spikes. Your breath shakes. Because fuck, you know exactly what he means.

It’s not about Joaquin. Not really.

It’s about you.

About the way you pretend. About the way you hold yourself together, smiling like the past doesn’t haunt you, like his absence didn’t break you.

And Bucky. ofcourse of all people.. knows it.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, but you school your expression before turning, meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes are burning. And that just makes you angry. You tilt your head, smirking just enough to be taunting. “Still doing what, Barnes?”

Bucky’s jaw flexes. “Acting.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please-”

“Like you don’t give a damn.”

The words hit.Hard.

Because fuck him. Fuck him for standing here—after everything and acting like you’re the one playing pretend.

Like you’re the one who walked away first.

Your anger spikes, sharp and uncontrollable. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, voice laced with venom. “Should I start crying every time you enter the room? Maybe throw myself at your feet? Would that make you feel better?”. Bucky’s expression hardens. “That’s not what I—”

“No?” you cut him off. “Then what the fuck do you want from me?”

He goes quiet, but his breathing is heavier now.

And you are done.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You wanna talk about acting, Barnes? Really?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “I—”

“You’re the one who left,” you snap, stepping closer. “You walked away.”

Bucky stiffens. “I had—”

“You had your reasons,” you mock, voice sharp like glass. “Yeah, I bet you did.” Your hands shake, but you don’t stop.

Because fuck him for acting like you’re the one who ran. Like you weren’t the one left behind.

“I waited for you,” you spit, voice breaking just slightly. “I waited and I grieved you. And then when you finally came back? You left again.”

Bucky flinches.

But you’re not done.

Your chest heaves as the anger bubbles up, breaking through everything, years of grief, of suffering, of pretending you were okay.

“FIVE YEARS, BARNES,” you scream, voice shattering. “FIVE FUCKING YEARS OF GRIEVING YOU AFTER THE SNAP.”

The entire room goes silent.

Bucky freezes.

And you. You fucking break.

Your vision blurs, chest aching, voice raw with everything you’ve held back for years.

“I lost everything the second you turned to dust,” you sob, shaking your head. “And I lost myself trying to bring you back. I was ready- do you get that? I was fucking ready to risk my own life to fix it. I would’ve died if it meant saving you.”

Tony moves then, stepping forward,his face pale, eyes glassy. but Steve reaches out, gripping his shoulder. Stopping him.

Because this?

This has to happen.

This moment?

This confrontation?

This need to happen.

You need him to hear it.

Bucky’s lips part, but no words come out. Because there’s nothing he can say. Not when you’re breaking in front of him. Not when your voice cracks as you whisper, “And after everything, you still left me.”

Bucky swallows hard, his entire body rigid. His breathing is uneven, jaw clenched so tight it might break.

And for the first time,

He looks wrecked.

Good. Because he should be. But it’s not enough.

Not when your heart is bleeding, not when there’s still so much more he needs to understand.

Your breath comes out shaky, but your voice is steady. “I didn’t care if I died,” you whisper. Bucky’s eyes snap to yours, like he’s just been punched in the gut.

But you don’t stop.

“I didn’t give a single fuck if I made it out alive,” you confess, voice rising. “I didn’t even care what my dad would think,what he’d feel- if I died trying to get that freaking stone.”

Tony inhales sharply behind you, but you don’t turn around. You can’t.

Your entire body trembles now, but you keep going, voice shaking with unfiltered rage and grief.

“I didn’t care what my dad would feel if I died.” You take a step closer, your entire being cracking apart.

“Why?” you whisper, voice thick, heart breaking.

And then—

Then you say the words that have haunted you since the second Bucky turned to dust in Wakanda. “Because if it meant bringing you back, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Bucky sucks in a breath, his face breaking. But you’re not done.

Not yet.

Your lips part, your next words destroying you as they slip free.

“Because I loved you too fucking much.”

The second the words leave your mouth, the entire room freezes. Bucky doesn’t move.

Tony does. He flinches.

Because those words, They’re not just about Bucky. They’re about you. About the years of suffering. About everything you were willing to risk.

For Bucky.

For the man standing in front of you now, staring at you like you’ve just ripped his soul out of his chest. And for once. For once in his life..

James Buchanan Barnes is fucking speechless.

Silence followed. No one dare to speak , no one dare to make a noise . Because for the first time since you came back, you’re breaking. Not just infront of Bucky , but everyone and Joaquin. Hell.

You’re still shaking, fists clenched so tight your nails dig into your palms. Bucky hasn’t moved,hasn’t blinked, just standing there like you’ve gutted him in front of everyone.

And in a way…. You did.

You’ve ripped yourself open in front of him. In front of everyone. You can feel the weight of their stares, can practically hear them holding their breath.

But then-

A voice cuts through the thick tension like a fucking knife. “…Shit,” Joaquin mutters under his breath.

And oh, the way Tony’s head snaps toward him so fast it could give someone whiplash.

Joaquin immediately freezes, like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes dart around, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that he has just unwillingly stepped into a warzone.

“Shit,” he repeats, slightly more panicked now. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here today.” You almost laugh.Almost.

Because the way Tony squints at Joaquin is like he’s already planning how to erase him from existence. Bucky, on the other hand doesn’t react. Not even a little. Just stands there. Staring. Like he doesn’t even hear Joaquin. Like the only thing he can hear is the echo of your words.

Because I loved you too fucking much.

Your throat tightens. The weight of it all, the years of pain, of heartbreak, of everything.. settles into your bones like a curse.

And then

Then Tony moves. Not towards you. Not towards Bucky. But towards Joaquin.

Joaquin blinks, eyes going slightly wide. “Oh, uh…. ”

“Torres,” Tony says, voice deceptively calm. “Do me a favor.”

Joaquin hesitates. “Yeah?”

Tony’s smile is too easy. “Shut the fuck up.”

Joaquin immediately presses his lips together.

And from the corner of your eye, you swear you see Sam smirk and Pietro hold a laughter . Stupid ass man. But you don’t look away from Bucky.

Not yet. Because for the first time in years… He’s looking at you like he sees you again.

And that? That’s almost worse than anything else.

…..

Tony stares at me . Really stares. Like he want to attack me with his eyes. Because for the first time in a long time, he’s looking at you, really looking at you, and seeing something he never wanted to see.

You. Completely broken. His kid.

The one person he swore to protect. The one person who has always been his greatest joy,his greatest pride and his greatest fear.

And right now? Right now, you’re standing in the middle of this room, eyes wild, shoulders trembling, voice still raw from screaming

And Tony feels it. Deep in his chest.Like a knife to the heart. “Kid…” His voice is low, careful. A stark contrast to the warzone that just exploded between you and Bucky.

You flinch.

Not at his tone… But at the way he’s looking at you. Like you’re not just hurting. Like you’re bleeding out. And god, you can’t do this. Not now. Not with him.

So you swallow back the lump in your throat, force the burning behind your eyes to disappear, and exhale a shaky breath.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”

Tony scoffs. Not out of disbelief. But because you just said the same damn thing you used to say when bucky turned into dust and whenbucky left.

He steps forward, slowly, like he’s approaching a wounded animal and when he places a hand on your arm, it’s warm. Solid.

“Kid,” he says again.And that’s what does it.

That’s what makes your chest cave in.Because there’s something in his voice, something that hurts. He feels this. Your pain. Your grief.

And suddenly, the words you spat at Bucky earlier come rushing back like a tidal wave.

I don’t care if I die.

I don’t even care about what my dad thinks and feels if I die.

Oh god, what have you done? Tony heard that.

Really heard it.And now? Now it’s killing him.Your throat tightens. “Dad, I—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. Because he’s already pulling you into a hug. A real hug. One that breaks you. You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers gripping the back of his shirt as you cling to him. “I got you, kid,” he murmurs, voice thick. “I got you.” And for the first time since coming back, you let yourself believe him.

You don’t know how long you stand there, buried in your father’s arms, feeling the weight of his heartbeat against your cheek.But it’s too much.

The warmth. The comfort. The way he’s holding you like you’re still his little girl, like he can fix this, like he can fix you.

He can’t. Nobody can.So you do the only thing you can do. You pull away.

Tony feels it immediately, themoment you tense, the way your fingers loosen their grip. He doesn’t fight it. He just lets you go, his hands lingering on your arms for half a second before he forces himself to drop them.

Your throat is raw, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to—”. You don’t even know how to finish that sentence. Tony does, though. He nods. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t try to stop you as you take a shaky step back. Or when you turn away from him completely. Or when you start walking, out of the room, down the hall, past the others who are still stunned from the explosion you and Bucky just had. You keep walking. Even when you feel eyes on you. Even when you know Bucky is still standing there, still watching.

Even when you hear Tony exhale deeply, as if the weight of what just happened is finally settling into his chest.

You keep walking. Because stopping means feeling. And you can’t afford to feel. Not right now.

The silence in the room lingers like smoke after an explosion. Joaquin, still looking like he just walked into a live minefield, slowly exhales and turns to Sam.

“…Man,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here today. It’s like walking into a goddamn warzone.”. Sam snorts. “No shit, Torres. You just witnessed history.”

Joaquin rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah? What kind of history?” Sam smirks. “The kind they don’t write down ‘cause it’s too messy.”

Joaquin exhales, glancing at the door you just disappeared through. “Right. Cool. Love that for me.”

Steve presses his lips together, shooting Sam a warning look, but even he looks too shaken to intervene.

Then Tony moves. Not in the usual, cocky Tony Stark way. No smooth quip, no sarcastic remark to break the tension.

Just a step forward. Slow. Controlled. Until he places both hands on the edge of the table and exhales deeply.

“…You know,” he starts, voice eerily quiet. “I am Tony Stark.” Nobody says a word.

“I’m a genius,” he continues, eyes locked on the table, voice steady but dangerous. “A billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. The man who built this….” He gestures vaguely at the compound, at the world they live in. “The man who figured out time travel,” he goes on. “The man who fought Thanos and fucking won.” His fingers dig into the table.

“I can make the most expensive gadgets in the world,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly. “I can build a suit that can fly into space, that can fight gods. I can fix a broken shield. A fractured timeline.”

Then his voice drops to something quiet. Something cracking.

“But now…” He lets out a humorless chuckle, his jaw tightening. “Now I can’t even fix my own daughter.”

Silence.A different kind of silence. A heavy one. Because no one has ever seen Tony Stark like this.Not even Steve. Not even Nat. The weight of his words settles, crashing into them like a tidal wave.

For years, Tony has been the guy- the one who always had an answer, a plan, a solution. But now?

Now he just looks…Tired. Lost. Like he’s carrying a weight that even he can’t bear anymore.

Before anyone can say anything or moves , tony lift his head. And his eyes? Oh god, his eyes can make a hole through a wall .

His gaze lock on Bucky. A slow inhale then a long exhale before-

“Thanks to you,” Tony murmurs , voice cold. “Now i see just how bad the damage you’ve done to her.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. He just takes it. Because he deserves this.

Because fuck, he knows Tony is right.

“You broke her,” Tony continues, shaking his head. His voice isn’t just angry anymore, it’s something else. Something that sounds a lot like defeat.

“And not even an Infinity Stone can fix that.”

Bucky exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening.

Because what the hell is he supposed to say to that?What the hell is he supposed to do when the truth is so fucking clear standing in front of him.

Tony doesn’t move. He just stands there, staring at the space where you once were, like if he looks hard enough, he can fix this, like he can undo whatever the hell just happened.

But he can’t. And that’s what kills him.His jaw clenches. His throat tightens.

His own daughter. His baby girl.

He knew you were hurting. He knew.

But this? This was different.

This wasn’t just about losing Bucky to the Blip.

It was everything after. You lost him for five years. And when you finally got him back,when you risked everything to bring him home-

He left.

Again.

For two more years.

And now? Now you were standing in front of him, screaming, not just at Bucky, but at him, at the universe, at everything that had taken and taken and taken from you.

And he, Tony fucking Stark, was supposed to protect you from that. But he couldn’t.

And when Bucky came back? When everyone came back? He just thought, he hoped, he really hoped that you’d finally be okay. That you’d finally heal.

But looking at you tonight, hearing the way your voice broke, seeing the way you shattered in front of everyone. You weren’t okay. You were never okay.

And maybe you never would be.

His hands shake. He presses his fingers to his temple, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe.

“Tony,” Steve says softly, stepping toward him. Tony flinches.Because fuck, if he opens his mouth now, he’s going to break.

So he swallows it down. Bites it back. Lifts his head. Then, without another word.. he turns on his heel and walks out.

Because-

Stark don’t break.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

———————————

The ghost meet the distraction

The team murmuring amongst themselves about mission prep. Steve gives you a small nod before heading out with Nat, who throws you a look that says You and I are talking later. Wanda and Pietro follow, whispering to each other in Sokovian.

Tony lingers near the door, watching you. You pretend not to notice.

Instead, you focus on your tablet, pretending to look at the mission details as if your entire body isn’t hyperaware of the man still sitting across from you.

Bucky. He hasn’t moved.

You can feel his gaze flicker toward you, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t make a move to acknowledge you beyond what’s necessary.

And that’s fine. That’s exactly how you want it.

With a casual stretch, you push back from the table, acting as if being paired with him isn’t a big deal. As if your stomach isn’t a mess of knots.

“Well, this should be fun,” you say lightly, locking your tablet and tucking it under your arm.

Bucky’s voice is steady, unreadable. “It’s just a mission.” You give a small, amused snort. “Yeah. Just a mission.”

Just a mission, like you’re just colleagues. Like you don’t share a history heavy enough to crack the goddamn floor beneath you.

Like you weren’t his once. Like he wasn’t yours.

But you keep your face smooth, keep your smirk easy. “We’re just partners, right?” Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something deep—but it’s gone before you can grasp it.

Then, finally, he nods. “Right.” Just partners. Just another mission. Then why does it feel like the air between you is suffocating?

The weight of two years lingers in the space between you. All the words never said. All the memories neither of you acknowledge.

And yet, you pretend.

Because that’s all you can do.

So you flash him one last easy smirk before turning toward the door. “See you at the jet, Barnes.”You walk away.

………

You sit at the far end of the quinjet, legs crossed, fingers idly tapping against your knee as the engines hum beneath you. You’ve got your tablet open, pretending to go over the mission details again, but your mind isn’t absorbing any of it.

Across from you, Bucky is doing the same thing, pretending to be focused. He’s staring straight ahead, barely blinking, jaw locked tight. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his metal fingers are twitching slightly.

It’s the first sign of his nerves. The first crack in the perfectly controlled mask he’s been wearing since you got back.You almost want to call him out on it.

Nat’s voice breaks the silence from the cockpit. “ETA ten minutes. Try not to kill each other before we land.”

You smirk. “No promises.” Bucky doesn’t react.

Nat glances back at you over her shoulder, clearly unimpressed. “Right. Well, if you do kill him, try to do it after the mission.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Nat snorts before turning back to the controls.

You flick your gaze back to Bucky. “You gonna be like this the entire time?”. His jaw tightens. “Like what?”

“Like you’ve swallowed a damn brick.” You tilt your head. “Lighten up, Barnes. It’s just a mission.”. Bucky doesn’t answer.

You sigh, leaning back against the wall of the jet. “If you’re still this grumpy when we land, I’m leaving you behind.”

And then, without missing a beat, you add, “Oh, wait. Sorry. I’m not the type to leave anyone behind.”

The air in the quinjet shifts.

Bucky tenses.

The words hang there between you,an invisible blade, cutting sharp and deep. You don’t mean to say it. Not really. But it slips out before you can stop it, a cruel echo of everything left unspoken.

Because he left.

Because when you needed him the most, he walked away.

And now, you’re just throwing it back in his face.

Bucky’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex against his knee, his entire body wound tight. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t argue. Because what can he say?

That he’s sorry? That he didn’t mean to leave you behind? That it killed him just as much as it killed you?

Or maybe he won’t say anything at all.

Maybe he’ll just keep pretending the past never happened. Just like you’re trying to do.

The jet dips slightly as you hit some turbulence, and instinctively, your hand grips the edge of the seat. And that’s when it happens.

Bucky’s hand moves, quick, automatic;like he’s going to reach for you.

Like he’s going to steady you.

Like he used to.

But the moment he realizes what he’s doing, he stops. Yanks his hand back. Flexes his fingers like he’s trying to shake off a mistake.

Like touching you would burn him. You pretend not to notice. You pretend the cold that settles in your chest isn’t real.

Instead, you exhale, force an easy grin, and lean back again. “Relax, Barnes. It’s just turbulance.”

Bucky says nothing. And when the jet lands minutes later, he’s already on his feet, striding out without a backward glance.

Like you don’t exist.Like you never did.

….

The compound is quiet when you finally make it back. Most of the team has turned in for the night, exhaustion settling into their bones.

You should probably do the same.

Instead, you find yourself in the kitchen, staring blankly into the fridge, not even sure what you’re looking for.

Behind you, footsteps. Heavy. Familiar. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Bucky.

You keep your gaze locked on the fridge, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the selection of leftover takeout.

“You always do that?” His voice is rough from the long day, but there’s something else beneath it. Amusement? Annoyance? You can’t tell.

You raise a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Do what?”

“Stand there for five minutes and never grab anything.”

You roll your eyes, finally grabbing a bottle of water before shutting the fridge door. “Maybe I like the cold air. Helps me think.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You still doing that?”

The words catch you off guard. It’s not just something he’s noticing now. It’s something he’s always noticed.

A small, stupid habit—one he used to tease you about. One he used to lean against the counter and watch with that soft, lopsided grin, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you.

“What exactly is the thought process here?” he used to say. “You stand there, stare at the fridge like it holds the meaning of life, and then walk away with the same damn water bottle.”

“It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Nothing important.”

Back then, he used to push. He used to pry. He used to care.

Now?

Now, he just watches you, the flicker of old familiarity in his eyes quickly smothered by something unreadable.

You twist the cap off the bottle, taking a slow sip. “Guess some things don’t change.”

His jaw tightens just slightly. “Guess not.”

Silence settles between you.You should walk away. Go to your room. Pretend like this, like he doesn’t affect you.

But you don’t. Instead, you linger, gripping the water bottle a little too tightly. And Bucky doesn’t leave either. The silence stretches between you, thick.

Bucky is still leaning against the counter, arms crossed, blue eyes fixed on you like he’s trying to figure something out.

You know that look. You used to be able to read him like a damn book. But now? Now he’s harder to decipher, guarded in ways he never was before. Or maybe he’s always been this way, and you were just too close to see it before.

You force yourself to look away first, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Well. This has been fun.”

Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t say anything.

You start to walk past him, because you need to get out of here, because the air feels too heavy, because being around him like this feels like standing too close to an open flame.

But the moment you step beside him, his voice stops you in your tracks.

“You really gonna keep pretending like nothing happened?”

You freeze.

Fingers tightening around the water bottle, you swallow hard before turning your head just slightly. “Excuse me?”

Bucky finally shifts, pushing off the counter to stand fully upright. “You heard me.”

Your pulse ticks faster, but you force your expression to remain neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Right.”

You exhale sharply, finally turning to face him. “What do you want from me, Barnes?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at you, searching your face like the answer might be there. Like maybe you’ll crack first.

But you won’t. You can’t.

So you shake your head, taking a step back. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’m not doing this with you.”

Bucky doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t argue.

But just as you reach the doorway, he speaks again.

“Some things don’t change, huh?”

Your footsteps falter.

His voice is quieter now, but there’s something sharp beneath it. “Guess that includes running away, too.”

That does it. You spin around so fast he barely has time to react before you’re stepping right into his space, fire burning in your eyes.

“Who’s running first, Barnes? Who?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t look away.

You shake your head, voice laced with bitterness. “Because last I checked, it wasn’t me who left. It wasn’t me who said I need to figure myself out and walked away like none of it meant anything.” Your voice wavers, but you push through it. “So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the one who ran.”

Bucky exhales through his nose, gaze dark, unreadable. “That’s not—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line before he mutters, “That’s not fair.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “Fair? You wanna talk about fair?”

Neither of you notice how close you’ve gotten, barely a breath apart, tension so thick it’s suffocating.

Your voice drops to something raw, something that almost hurts. “You left me, Bucky. And now you’re mad that I’m not still waiting for you?”

His eyes flicker with something. guilt, maybe. Regret. You don’t know. You don’t care.

He doesn’t say anything.

And that silence? It tells you everything.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” And this time, when you walk away, he doesn’t stop you.

You don’t stop walking until you’re back in your room. Your hands shake as you slam the door shut behind you, the weight of the conversation pressing down on your chest like a goddamn vice.

“Who’s running first, Barnes? Who?”

The words you said earlier still ring in your ears, laced with all the anger, all the hurt you’ve buried for years.

You breathe in deep, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. You shouldn’t have snapped. You shouldn’t have let him get to you.

But the moment he accused you of running, after everything, after the way he left first. you lost it.

And the worst part?

You saw it in his face.

The way he knew you were right. The way he had nothing to say back. It should feel like a victory.It doesn’t.

A knock at your door pulls you out of your thoughts.

You tense instantly, heart slamming against your ribs.

You already know who it isn’t. Not Steve, not Wanda, not Nat.

Not anyone but—

“Kid?”

Dad.

You exhale slowly, rubbing a hand over your face before finally stepping forward and pulling the door open. Tony leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You and Barnes finally had it out?”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Tony sighs, stepping inside like he already knows you’re not about to kick him out. “You wanna talk about it?”. You shake your head, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “Not really.”

Tony watches you carefully before lowering himself onto the chair near your desk. “You know, for a genius, you’re real bad at hiding your feelings.”

You scoff, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Yeah, well. Guess I learned from the best.”

Tony smirks slightly. “Fair.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You okay?”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting the cap of your water bottle until it creaks.

“I don’t know.”

Honest.

Raw.

Tony nods, like he expected that answer. “You know, it’s okay if you’re not.”

You huff out a breath. “Great. Love that for me.”

Tony doesn’t say anything right away.

Then, softer, “Did you ever stop loving him?”

Your throat tightens.

Your eyes burn.

You didnt even answer his question. You don’t even know how to answer it.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing steady. “I just, I thought I moved on. I wanted to move on.”

Tony tilts his head slightly. “And yet?”

Your chest tightens. “And yet I walk into this compound and see him standing there, and it’s like nothing ever changed. Like no time passed at all.”

Tony sighs, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s the real bitch of it.”

You just silent. Hurt. So. Much.

Tony taps his fingers against his knee. “So what now?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I don’t know.” Because that’s the truth.

You don’t know.

You don’t know how to exist in the same space as him without remembering everything. Without feeling every things of what you lost.

Tony studies you for a moment before nodding to himself. Then he stands up, clapping his hands against his thighs.

“Well. Guess that’s the fun part, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Tony smirks, tilting his head. “Figuring out what the hell you’re gonna do next.”. You let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

Tony squeezes your shoulder briefly before heading toward the door. But before he leaves, he pauses.

Turns back.

And then

“You still love him.”

It’s not a question.

You meet his gaze, heart hammering in your chest.

And this time, you don’t even try to deny it.

…..

It’s been a week since you came back. Seven days of dancing around each other. Seven days of pretending like nothing ever happened.

You and Bucky have perfected the art of avoidance. The only time you interact is when necessary. During missions, during briefings, when your dad throws a snarky comment that neither of you can ignore. But other than that?

Nothing.

You don’t look at him too long. He doesn’t let his eyes linger on you. Neither of you crack, neither of you fold.

It’s exhausting.

And it’s only a matter of time before one of you breaks.

But today? Today, you get something, a distraction .

Sam strolls into the common area, a smug grin on his face, clapping his hands together. “Alright, people. Got someone I want you all to meet.”

You look up from your spot on the couch just as a man steps in beside Sam.

And holy shit.

Tall. Strong jawline. Warm brown eyes. And that smile? Holy hell.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Because for the first time in years, your brain does something stupid. It short-circuits.

“Everyone,” Sam announces, “this is Joaquin Torres.”

Joaquin smiles, and you swear you feel your soul leave your body for a second. “Hey,” he greets, voice smooth, easy.

You just stare.

God. He’s so pretty.

Like, unfairly pretty.

“Torres is gonna be working with us on some upcoming ops,” Sam continues, glancing around at everyone. “Figured it was time for him to meet the team.”

You’re still staring.

Because what the hell?

For the first time in years, you find another man attractive.

Other than Bucky.

The realization knocks the wind out of you, and your brain short-circuits again.

He’s so hot.

But Bucky is hotter.

Wait—what the fuck?

You physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Wanda smirks, catching your reaction immediately. You shoot her a ‘don’t start’ look, but she just quirks an eyebrow like she’s already taking mental notes.

Meanwhile, Joaquin meets your gaze, smiling like he’s completely unaware of the problems and crisis you’re having.

“Torres,” you manage, forcing a small smirk. “Welcome to the circus.”

Joaquin chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”

And maybe you’re too aware of the way he’s looking at you.

But then—

A shift.

A presence.

Like a storm cloud rolling in. And you don’t even have to turn your head to know..

Bucky is watching.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Again ,i am really sorry . English is not my first language, so there will be many grammatical and spelling errors :(

______________________________________

The ghost of the past

You did leave, for your own good.

That’s what you told yourself. That’s what your dad told you when he stood in front of you two years ago, arms crossed like he was trying to be firm, like this was just another logical decision, another equation to solve. But you had seen the crack in his voice, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to hold on but knew he had to let go.

“You need to go,” he had said. “You’re not okay, and I can’t watch you self-destruct.”

You had wanted to argue. To tell him that leaving wouldn’t fix anything. That nothing would. But you had been too exhausted, too broken to fight anymore. So you left. You packed a bag, walked out of the compound, and kept walking.

And now, after two years of pretending you were fine, you were back.The compound doors slide open, the familiar hum of FRIDAY greeting you like a ghost from your past.

“Welcome home, Miss Stark.”

Home.

You step inside, and for a second, everything feels the same. The glass walls, the sleek furniture, the faint hum of technology in the background. But there’s something different. The air feels heavier, like time has stretched in ways you don’t quite understand.

Your boots echo against the floor as you make your way inside, taking it all in—the things that have changed, the things that have stayed exactly the same. A noise pulls your attention to the side.

Sam is standing near the kitchen, a cup of coffee halfway to his mouth. His eyes widen, and for a second, he just stares.

“Well, damn,” he finally says, setting the mug down. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence.”

You huff out a breath, shaking your head. “Didn’t know I needed an invitation.”

Footsteps echo from the hallway.

“Holy shit,” Clint mutters, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “She lives.” Asshole.

And then..

“About time,” your dad says. Tony’s voice is the same as always, teasing, dry, but there’s something else underneath it. Something softer. Relief, maybe. Guilt, definitely.

You meet his gaze, and for a second, the world narrows to just that. You don’t know what to say, don’t know if you should be angry at him or grateful.

Before you can figure it out, something shifts.

A presence.

A weight in the air so familiar it makes your breath catch.

You feel him before you see him.

And when you finally turn…

Bucky Barnes.

You don’t even register the others anymore. The sound of Sam’s mug clicking against the counter. The sharp inhale Clint takes as he watches the way you freeze. Even Tony seems to tense slightly, like he knew this part was coming but didn’t know how it would play out.

Your vision tunnels. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Because the last time you saw him, his hair was longer, his metal arm was silver, and he was telling you he needed time.

Now, his hair is short. His metal arm is black, sleek, unmistakably Wakandan.

You can’t breathe. You are not wrong now.

Bucky is an Avenger.

Two years ago, he walked away, telling you he had to figure things out. That he wasn’t ready. Now he’s here. With them. With your team. With your family.

Your heart pound like hell, but you force yourself to keep your face unreadable. You won’t let him see it. Won’t let him see the way it guts you from the inside out.

Your lips part, but no words come out.Neither of you move. Neither of you speak.

The silence is unbearable, stretching between you like an open wound, raw and festering.

Then-

“Stark. You’re back.”

Stark? No doll , no sweetheart , no love , no princess. They are all gone. Just a formal last name.

His voice is quiet, rough, like it physically pains him to say it. You inhale slowly. Steady. Controlled. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

His fists clench at his sides. He looks like he wants to say something else, like there are a thousand words stuck behind his teeth, burning to be let out.

But he doesn’t say anything. And that makes you furious.

Because of course he’s the same. Of course he still just stands there, making you bear the weight of it all alone. Making you carry the silence, you carry the pain, you pretend like it doesn’t fucking hurt.

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head, turning away. “Nope. Not doing this right now.”

But as soon as you take a step, his voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it cuts through you like a blade.

Your hands curl into fists. You don’t turn around. You can’t. Because if you look at him, if you really look at him, you’re afraid of what might happen. Afraid of the anger. The heartbreak. The way it’ll all come crashing down at once.

So instead, you swallow everything and keep walking and behind you, Bucky just watches you go.

…

Your old room looks almost the same.

Almost.

The bed is still there, the same black comforter draped over it, the same soft pillows, like some part of the past was waiting for you to come back. Your desk is still against the far wall, but there’s new dust on the surface, untouched for years. The window is cracked open, letting in the faintest breeze, carrying with it the ghost of a life you left behind.

But there are things that don’t belong.

The extra shelves stacked with some of Tony’s junk,random bits of tech, a few unfinished projects, things that look hastily shoved there, like he thought he had all the time in the world to clean up before you returned.

Except he didn’t expect you to return at all, did he?

You drop your bag onto the floor, exhaling sharply, rubbing your temples. Your mind is a mess. A storm that won’t settle.

Bucky. Bucky is an Avenger now.

He’s here. He’s been here. For who knows how long.

And no one thought to tell you.

Your stomach twists. The longer you stand in the room, the more it feels like the walls are closing in, like the air is getting thinner, like you might actually fucking scream.

Then…

A knock at the door.

Not a polite one. A cautious one. Like the person on the other side already knows what’s coming.It swings open before you can tell them to fuck off.

Tony.

Of course. He leans against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

You don’t hesitate.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me anything?!”

Your voice cuts through the air, raw, sharp, years of frustration packed into every syllable.

Tony doesn’t flinch. But his jaw tightens. “You just got here. You wanna try again without the screaming?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Dad,” you snap, throwing your arms up. “Should I lower my voice while I ask why the fuck you didn’t think to mention that Bucky Barnes is living in this goddamn compound?”

Tony sighs, stepping fully into the room, rubbing his temple. “Language, kid”

“Im not Steve , for fuck sake !” , unbelievable.

“And No. No. Dont you dare to ‘kid’ me now to get your way out of this.” Your heart is pounding. “I was gone for two years. I left because you said I needed to heal. Because you said I needed to move on.” You let out a harsh laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “And the second I come back? The second I step foot in this place again? The first person I see is him? As an Avengers? AND NO ONE IN THIS COMPOUND CARE TO TEXT ME OR CALL ME?!”

Tony exhales through his nose, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit.”

“Alright, fine. Maybe not that complicated.” He crosses his arms. “It happened gradually. He started coming around more, helping out, training with the others. And then one day he worked here now.”

Your head is spinning. “And you never thought—oh, I don’t know, maybe I should mention this to my daughter at some point?”

Tony tilts his head. “And when exactly was I supposed to do that, sweetheart? During one of your ‘I need to be alone’ radio silences? Maybe when you ignored my calls for months?”

Your throat tightens. You hate that he has a point.

But that doesn’t make this hurt any less.

“I deserved to know,” you say, quieter this time.

Tony sighs again, softer now. “Yeah. You did.”

The weight in your chest grows heavier. “I thought I was coming back to my team,” you murmur. “To my family. But it’s not the same, is it?”

Tony watches you for a long moment, then steps forward, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Things change,” he says gently. “People change. Even the ones we thought never would.”

You swallow hard.

You hate how much it hurts.

Two years ago, Bucky told you he needed time. He told you he had to figure himself out.

And now, standing here, hearing that he’s been here this whole time. that he didn’t just figure himself out, but found a home here? Found a team?

Found a place where he belonged?It feels like a knife to the gut.

Because he used to belong with you.

You inhale sharply, gripping your arms tighter. “I used to be his home,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, your chest unbearably heavy. “And he used to be mine.”

Tony doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches you with that sharp, knowing look that you’ve never been able to hide from.

Then, finally, he exhales, nodding toward the door.

“You think it was easy for him? You think he just waltzed in here and everything was peachy? Nah. He fought it. He fought us. Didn’t think he deserved to be here. Didn’t think he belonged. Sound familiar?”

Your breath catches.Because it does.It sounds exactly like you.

His voice softens. “he did need a home. And whether you like it or not… this became his.”

A lump forms in your throat.

Because it’s not just that he found a home here.

It’s that he doesn’t need you to be his home anymore.

You blink rapidly, pushing down the emotions clawing at your throat.

Tony nods, as if he understands, then steps back toward the door. “Take the night. Sleep. Scream into a pillow. Whatever helps. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

He turns to leave—

Then pauses.

Looks back.

And with a knowing smirk, he adds, “Oh, and kid? You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the ghosts of the past.

….

The meeting room hums with quiet conversation, the usual pre-meetingchatter filling the space. Steve is flipping through a folder, Wanda and Pietro are murmuring to each other, and Nat is leaned back in her chair, boot propped on the table, twirling a knife between her fingers.

It’s routine. Normal. Until you step through the door.Silence falls like a hammer.

Steve’s head snaps up first. His eyes widen, mouth slightly parting, like he’s questioning if you’re actually real.

Then Bruce, who literally freezes mid-sentence, his brows furrowing in disbelief.

Pietro, leaning against the wall, lets out a low whistle. “Well, shit. Holy shit”

Wanda’s eyes flicker with something between relief and shock. “You’re back,” she murmurs, like she’s afraid saying it too loud will make you disappear.

Nat, ever composed, is the last to react. But even she can’t hide the glint of surprise in her sharp gaze. She sets the knife down with a soft clink, tilting her head. “Did hell freeze over, or did Stark finally drag your ass back?”

You smirk, but there’s no real bite to it. “Tony didn’t drag me anywhere.”

Steve finally finds his voice. “We” He stops himself, exhales sharply, then tries again. “We didn’t think we’d see you again.”

Bruce nods, still looking at you like you’re some kind of mirage. “Yeah, I mean… two years is a long time.”

Two years.

Two years away from them. From the life you thought you’d left behind.

From the memories of him.

You force yourself to stay neutral, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “Yeah, well. Turns out, I’m not great at the whole finding inner peace thing. And pretty sure god make me back here because you guys really hide something realllll big from me huh?”

Silence . They know what you meant.

‘Bucky-kinda-be-an-avengers-now’ matter.

Wanda breaks the silent, her expression softening. “It’s really good to see you.”

You feel something in your chest loosen, just a little.

Nat eyes you for a long moment before nodding approvingly. “Well, whatever brought you back, I hope you’re staying this time.”

You don’t answer.

Not because you don’t want to. But because the door opens again—

And he walks in.

The moment Bucky walks in, the air shifts. It’s subtle, just a flicker of tension, a slight pause in movement. but you feel it.

You feel him. And yet, you don’t look. You don’t let yourself.

Instead, you straighten in your chair, keeping your expression effortlessly neutral. Unbothered. Like this is just another day, just another meeting, and the man who once held your entire world in his hands hasn’t just walked in like he owns the damn place.

Bucky stops for half a second. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but you catch it,how his steps falter, how his shoulders tense. Then he moves again, slipping into a seat across from you.

You keep your gaze on the screen in front of you, casually flipping through the mission briefing. Like nothing happened. Like nothing ever happened.

Steve, ever the peacemaker, clears his throat. “Alright, now that we’re all here…” He glances at you, then at Bucky, and oh, you can tell he’s debating whether to say something.

You don’t give him the chance.

“So what’s the situation?” you ask, flipping another page on the screen. “Tony said it was urgent.”

Bucky exhales quietly, just a breath, just a fraction of hesitation,before shifting in his seat. You can feel his stare, feel the weight of it pressing against you, but you refuse to meet it.

Nat notices. Of course she does. Her sharp eyes flick between you and Bucky before she smirks slightly, like she’s already seeing straight through your act.

You ignore her.

Wanda is watching, too, less smug, more concerned. but she doesn’t say anything. Neither does Steve, though the way he keeps glancing between you and Bucky makes it very clear he has a lot of thoughts.

But no one pushes it. So you keep up the act. Keep pretending.

Keep pretending you don’t feel Bucky’s eyes on you. Keep pretending you’re not aware of every breath he takes. Keep pretending your heart isn’t shattering all over again.

Bucky’s staring. You can feel it.

Even though your eyes are fixed on the mission briefing, even though you’re forcing yourself to stay neutral, your body betrays you. Your heartbeat stumbles in your chest, your fingers tighten around the tablet, your breathing slows,because your body remembers.

Remembers him.

Remembers what it felt like to be held by him, to belong to him. Remembers the way he used to look at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

But that was before.

Before he left. Before two years turned you both into strangers again.

So you pretend.Pretend nothing happened. Pretend that he’s just another teammate. Pretend you don’t care that he’s here.

“Alright,” Steve says, clearing his throat, trying to break the tension. “We’ve got intel that a weapons deal is going down in Madripoor. Stark’s sources say it could be connected to some remnants of HYDRA.”

Steve explained all the details of the mission without missing anything. The rooms is silent , just Steve’s charismatic and leadership voices filled the room.

“Alright,” Steve says. “Pair up. Nat, you’re with me. Wanda, Pietro, you’re together. Bruce, you’re running comms. Sam , as usual”

Then he turns to you. “You’re with Bucky.”

Silence. Your body locks up.

Across the table, Bucky’s jaw tightens slightly,but his face stays neutral. He doesn’t react.

I swear if murdering people is not a crime , i already killed this Captain America with bare hands.

You force yourself to breathe. Keep your posture loose, your face unreadable. “Fine by me.” Bucky doesn’t say anything. Just gives a short, clipped nod.

And that’s it.

No argument. No tension-filled stare-down. No acknowledgment of anything. You pretend that sitting next to him doesn’t feel like sitting beside a ghost. You pretend you don’t notice the way his hands flex against the table, like he’s holding something back. You pretend everything is fine.

Because if the past doesn’t exist….

It can’t hurt you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

—————————————————————-

The Fallout

You didn’t know how long you stood there after Bucky left.Long enough for the sun to start setting. Long enough for the battlefield to feel like a graveyard. Long enough for someone to find you.

“Hey.”

Steve.

You barely blinked as he stepped up beside you, his gaze following the path Bucky had walked away from.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” His voice was calm. Gentle, as always

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Steve sighed. “I saw him leave.” He hesitated. “He’s not coming back, is he?”. Your jaw clenched.You didn’t trust yourself to speak.

Because if you did, you would break.

Steve exhaled sharply. “Damn it, Buck.” There was anger in his voice now.anger and frustration, but also deep sadness.

“He said he needs to find himself,” you finally whispered.

Steve’s eyes snapped to you.

Your throat burned. “Said he needs time. That he can’t do this. Not yet.”

Steve ran a hand over his face, his entire body tensing. “That stupid son of a—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Language cap”

Steve shook his head. “After everything.. he just walks away?”. You swallowed hard. “Yeah.” Silence stretched between you.

Then—

“Does Tony know?”

Your heart stuttered.

Fuck.

…

The compound was too bright. Too alive. Too full of people celebrating their victory.

It made you sick

You walked past them in a daze, ignoring the cheers, the relieved voices, the embraces of thos who returned to life. None of it felt real

Because he’s not here .

He was supposed to be here.

Bucky supposed to be here.

You found Tony in the conference room with Nat, Clint, and Bruce. He looked up the second you stepped inside.

“Hey, sweetheart-“, His expression shifted the moment he saw your face. His jaw tightened. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth.But the words didn’t come. Instead—your chest caved. Your breath stuttered.

And then—

You broke.

A sob tore from your throat as you completely break-down.

Tony was there before you hit the ground. Strong arms caught you, pulling you into his chest, cradling you like he used to when you were small.

“Oh god,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “What the hell happened?”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, your body shaking violently.

“He left,” you choked. “He fucking left.”

Tony froze.

The room went silent.

And then—

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Tony’s voice thundered through the room, filled with fury and disbelief. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands framing your face. His eyes were burning.

“After everything?” His breath was sharp. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Tony swore under his breath.

Nat was standing now, arms crossed, her face unreadablebut her knuckles were white. Clint looked like he wanted to put his fist through a wall. Bruce muttered something vicious under his breath.

Nobody spoke for a long moment.

Then Tony exhaled sharply, pulling you back into his chest.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “Okay. We’re gonna deal with this. You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

You wanted to believe him.

You really did.

But deep down, you weren’t sure you ever would be. Because this is the moment that you knew , you will be completely miserable.

……

You stopped sleeping.

At first, it was just a few restless nights. The nightmares kept you awake, memories of dust slipping through your fingers, of blue eyes filled with regret as he walked away.

Then, you stopped eating. Nothing tasted right. Nothing felt real. You trained until your body collapsed. Until your hands bled. Until you couldn’t think anymore.

But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

You tried to fill the void with missions. You threw yourself into the field with reckless abandon, taking risks that made even Natasha and Steve hesitate. You wanted the pain. Welcomed it. Because pain meant you could still feel something.

But eventually, even that stopped working.

And one night—

One night, it all caught up to you.

You were in the training room, alone, your fists slamming into the punching bag over and over again. You had been at it for hours. Maybe days. You weren’t sure anymore.

Your knuckles were raw, skin split open, blood staining the bag—but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop.

Because the second you did, the silence would come. The thoughts. The realization that he was gone, and he had chosen to be.

Your vision blurred.

Your breath hitched.

Then—

“That’s enough.”

The voice was sharp. Commanding.

You froze.

Tony was standing at the entrance, his face pale.

His eyes swept over you, taking in your trembling body, your bloody hands, the dark circles under your eyes. His expression hardened.

“Come on,” he said. “You’re done.”

You swallowed. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You clenched your jaw. “I can handle it.”

Tony’s eyes burned. “No. You can’t.”

You flinched.

He sighed, stepping closer. His voice softened. “Kid… you’re killing yourself.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He exhaled. “You’re killing yourself over him.”

The words hit.

Your breath caught in your throat. Then something inside you snapped. Once again, for the same reason.

“What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

Tony stilled.

Your vision blurred, rage and grief twisting in your chest, clawing at your throat.

“I lost him,” you whispered. “I lost him once. And I survived. Barely. Then I got him back,and he left me again.” Your voice broke. “I can’t,I can’t do this again, Dad. I can’t survive it again.”

“The last time he’s gone , he didnt- he cant choose . He didnt have a choice . But this time? He did choose it himself. He choose to left . Me.”

Tony’s face was unreadable.

Then—slowly, carefully—he reached for you.

And the second his arms wrapped around you—

You collapsed.

A sob ripped from your chest, violent and raw, and Tony held you through it. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell you it would be okay. Didn’t try to fix it.

Because there was nothing to fix. You were broken.

And that night—Tony made a choice.

……

You weren’t surprised when he brought it up. You were in the kitchen the next morning, staring blankly at a cup of coffee you hadn’t touched.

Tony sat across from you. He didn’t speak for a long time.

Then—

“You need to leave.” You flinched. Your grip tightened around the mug. “What?”. Tony exhaled. “You need time. Away from all of this.” His voice was careful. Measured. “Go somewhere. Anywhere. Take a break.”

You stared at him. “You’re sending me away?” His eyes softened. “I’m saving you.”

Your throat burned.

“I—” Your voice wavered. You shook your head. “I don’t know how to exist without this.”

“I know,” Tony said. “That’s the problem.”

Silence.

You swallowed hard.

Then—quietly, hesitantly—you asked:

“Where should I go?”

Tony sighed. “Wherever the hell you want, sweetheart.” He reached into his pocket, tossing you a small, black card. “Your name’s on every account I own. Go find yourself.”

Your fingers curled around the card. Your chest ached. But deep down— You knew he was right.

Because if you stayed? You wouldn’t survive it.

And for the first time in years , you hoping for something different.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

—————————————————————

The Ending Beginning

You weren’t supposed to care. That was the plan. The chaos is unstoppable . The war between your dad and Steve is so so so bad.

He was the enemy, wasn’t he? At least, that’s what your dad said. That’s what the government said. But when you looked into his eyes, those stormy blues filled with ghosts and guilt, something in you shifted.

“Stay down, Stark,” Bucky Barnes growled, standing between you and Steve. His metal arm whirred as he raised it in defense, ready for whatever came next.

You wiped the blood from your lip, grinning through the sting. “You think I listen to people just because they tell me to?”

Steve sighed. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Tell your best friend to stop throwing punches,” you shot back, rolling your shoulders.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He looked at you, really looked at you, like he was trying to solve a puzzle he hadn’t meant to pick up. Your heart was racing, but it wasn’t from the fight.

Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time he’d look at you like that.

And you was right.

Enemies to lovers is real because if its not what is you and Bucky now ? The past few months was rough for both of you , but in between all the chaos , you two found yourself in each other.

It wasn’t easy.

Bucky was a walking storm cloud, haunted and hesitant, but for some reason, he let you in. Late-night talks, stolen moments , the way he’d glance at you like he was terrified and desperate all at once. He never said the words, but he didn’t have to.

“I’m dangerous, Stark,” he warned you once.

You only smiled, reaching for his gloved hand. “Good thing I like a little danger.”

It happened on a quiet night, somewhere in Wakanda.

You weren’t supposed to be there, not technically. Bucky was still in recovery, working through his demons in the peaceful solitude Shuri had gifted him. But you had never been good at following rules, and he had never been good at resisting you.

The night was warm, the air thick with the scent of wildflowers and rain. You sat beside him, staring at the stars, both of you pretending you weren’t feeling the inevitable pull between you.

“You should go,” Bucky murmured, though he made no effort to move away.

You turned to him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the way the moonlight softened his usually hard expression. “Do you want me to?”

His jaw worked, fingers twitching in the dirt. “…No.”

So you stayed.

When his lips finally found yours, it wasn’t hesitant, it was hungry. Desperate. Like he had been starving for something only you could give him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your skin, voice shaking.

You didn’t.

That night, you traced every scar, every story written into his skin. He kissed every place you had ever been hurt, like he could erase your past and rewrite it with him. It wasn’t just sex. It was everything. A silent promise, a declaration, a surrender.

“I love you,” you breathed, and he froze.

For a moment, you thought he’d pull away. Thought you’d ruined everything.

But then he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to memorize the words through your lips. “I love you too,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

It was the first time he had ever said it. The first time he had let himself have something, have you.

And it was the last time before the war took him from you.

………

The battlefield was chaos.

Screams. Explosions. The earth trembling beneath your feet. You didn’t know where the sky ended and the blood-soaked ground began. All you knew was that Bucky was still by your side, fighting like hell.

“We’ve had worse days, right?” you panted, dodging a blast as you shot down an alien soldier.

Bucky grunted, slamming his vibranium arm into a creature’s skull. “Remind me when this was ever a good day.”

You smirked, but the fear in your chest never left. This wasn’t like anything you’d faced before. It felt like the end of the world.

Then you saw Thor fall.

You saw Steve struggling, Tony barely keeping up.

And you saw Thanos.

“We have to stop him,” you breathed, but Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could move.

“Hey.” His grip was firm, grounding you in the chaos. “We do this together.”

Together.

You fought like you had trained for this moment your entire life. Back to back, covering each other, Bucky’s gunfire and raw strength matched with your speed and precision. Every time he so much as stumbled, you were there. And every time you wavered, he was the one keeping you standing.

Then the snap happened.

A blinding wave of energy surged through the battlefield, and for a moment, the war stopped.

Your ears rang. Your breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

You turned to Bucky, just in time to watch his fingers begin to disintegrate.

“No—no, no, no—”

His eyes met yours, wide and terrified. “Doll—”

Then he was gone.

Gone before you could reach him. Gone before you could hold him. Gone before you could tell him one more time that you loved him.

The dust settled, and you collapsed to your knees, choking on a sob that never ended.

He was gone.

……..

The compound had never been this quiet.

Not since the Snap. Not since half the universe had turned to dust, taking the people you loved with it.

You barely ate. You barely spoke.

Tony tried. He tried so hard. But no amount of joking, no amount of gentle nudging or tough love could reach you.

“Kid,” he murmured one night, leaning against the doorway of your room. “You gotta stop this.”

Steve and Natasha followed him behind.

You didn’t look up. Couldn’t. You were sitting on the floor, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the flickering blue light of the holo-screen in your hands. It was a loop of footage, grainy, chaotic battle footage from Wakanda.

And there he was.

Bucky.

Frozen in a moment that felt like it had happened just yesterday and a lifetime ago. He was mid-motion, gun raised, hair whipping in the wind. You kept replaying the clip, over and over, watching him move. Watching him exist.

Because in real life, he didn’t anymore.

“Come on,” Tony pressed, softer this time. “Let’s go get some food. Maybe even real food. I’ll let you pick. No green smoothies, I swear.”

You didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.

His sigh was heavy. “You know, at some point, you’re gonna have to—”

“Stop.” Your voice cracked.

Tony stiffened, his expression faltering.

“Just… stop.” Your fingers clenched around the holo-screen. “Don’t you get it? He’s gone.”

“I know,” Tony said quietly. “I know, kid.”

You shook your head. He didn’t know. No one did.

You felt it happening, the snap inside you, the grief morphing into something darker, something dangerous. Your breaths came faster, your vision blurring.

And then you shattered.

You shot to your feet and screamed.

A sound so raw and agonized that it barely felt human. You grabbed the nearest thing; your holo-screen and hurled it at the wall. It shattered on impact, sparks flying, but it wasn’t enough.

Nothing was enough.

You ripped books from shelves, knocked over equipment, sent anything and everything crashing to the floor. If you could destroy everything, maybe—maybe..

“Hey, HEY—”

Tony and Steve grabbed you before you could go any further, arms locking around you, trying to still you.

“Let me GO!” you thrashed, fists pounding against Tony’s chest. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t. He just held you.

And then, finally, you broke down completely.

Your sobs came in heaving, shuddering gasps, body going limp against your father’s chest. You clutched at his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to reality, your entire frame trembling.

Tony didn’t say anything. He just held you tighter, pressing a hand to the back of your head, his own voice thick with emotion.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I know.”

But he didn’t.

Because Bucky was gone.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from it.

…….

Five years.

Five years of existing in a world that no longer felt like your own. Five years of waking up to the same emptiness. Five years of fighting battles that didn’t matter, because the only one you wanted to fight for was gone.

And then…. hope.

A sliver of it. A possibility so small, so fragile, that it felt like a dream.

“We might have a way to bring them back.”

Bruce had said the words, and the world tilted.

You barely heard the rest of the explanation, something about quantum realms, time travel, the stones. You didn’t care.

All you cared about was one thing.

Bucky.

You sat in the room, staring at the holo-screen where the plan was being laid out, but all you could hear was the deafening pounding of your own heartbeat.

“You okay?” Nat’s voice was soft beside you.

You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. You nodded once. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe you. No one did. But no one questioned it, because they all knew.

You would do anything to get him back.

Even if it meant dying in the process.

The team argued. There were risks. If they failed, if the timeline fractured, if something worse happened…

You didn’t care.

“I’ll go,” you said before anyone could even try to stop you.

Tony froze. “No. Absolutely not.”

You turned to him, jaw clenched. “You need someone to go back? Someone fast, someone strong? Someone who won’t fuck it up?” You stared him down. “Then it’s me.”

Tony’s eyes darkened. “We’ll find another way.”

“There isn’t another way!” Your voice cracked. “This is it, Dad. This is the only shot we have, and if you think for one second that I won’t take it, then you don’t know me at all.” His jaw tightened.

“Y/N…” Steve started, voice low.

But you shook your head. “I lost him.” Your throat burned. “And I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to bring him back.”

Tony exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You could die.”

“I already feel like I did.”

That was the truth of it. The past five years had been nothing but a slow, like watching a train wreck in slow motion. If this mission killed you? Fine. As long as it worked.

As long as it brought him back.

The room fell silent.

Then Tony sighed, long and heavy. His shoulders sagged, like he was carrying the weight of the world. “You’re just like your mother, you know that?”

You swallowed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.” He shook his head. “Fine. You’re in.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Because for the first time in five years

You had hope. Hope and living with purpose.

….

The battle was over.

Thanos was gone. The universe was restored.

And Bucky… Bucky was back.

You had barely registered the chaos of the fight once you saw him. He had returned in the same place he had left, stepping through a portal with the others, his rifle in hand, his face a mix of determination and confusion.

But none of that mattered.

Because he was there.

Your Bucky is here

You had fought harder than ever before, your body running on nothing but adrenaline and desperation. You had made sure he was safe, fought by his side, did everything in your power to make sure you wouldn’t lose him again.

And now, it was over.

The dust was settling. The battlefield was quiet. And you were alive.

You found him after everything. He was standing alone near the ruins of the compound, looking out at the horizon like he wasn’t sure this was real.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky.”

He turned.

And when his eyes met yours, those same eyes you had memorized, the ones you had dreamed about for five agonizing years. You broke.

You ran to him.

He barely had time to react before you crashed into him, arms wrapping around his neck, holding onto him like if you let go, he would disappear all over again.

His arms came around you, crushing you against him, and you could feel how much he had missed you. The way his hands gripped you, the way his face buried into your shoulder, like he needed to convince himself that you were real.

“You came back,” you choked. “You fucking came back.”

His breath shuddered against your skin. “I didn’t mean to leave.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I waited for you.”

“I know.” His arms tightened. “I know, doll. I—” He swallowed hard. “I missed you.”

The weight in your chest eased for the first time in five years. This was it. This was your moment. You had him back.

But then, he pulled away. And you knew.

You knew before he even said it. Your stomach twisted. “Bucky?”

His expression was pained. “I—I can’t do this. Not yet.”The world tilted.

“What?” Your voice came out small.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, like he was struggling to find the words. “I need to figure out who I am. What I am. Five years passed for you, but for me, it was just—” He exhaled. “I need time.”

Your hands trembled. “Time?”

His gaze met yours again, and there was so much emotion in his eyes; regret, longing, love, but also hesitation.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly.

Your heart cracked.

“Hurt me?” A bitter laugh escaped you. “You were gone, Bucky. You were dead. And I was the one who had to live with it.”

His expression twisted in pain. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice shook. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Silence.

You stepped back. Your hands clenched at your sides. “I risked everything to bring you back.” Your throat tightened. “And now you’re leaving again?”

Bucky’s eyes burned with emotion. “I have to.”

A sharp, broken breath left your lips. “Right.” You swallowed down the sob threatening to escape. “Then go.”

His brows furrowed. “Doll—”

“Go, Bucky.”

He hesitated. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, anything ,to make this better.

But there was nothing. And so, he turned. And you watched him walk away.

Just when you thought you had found your happy ending—

You lost him all over again.

When you thought you just about to find your beginning all over again , you was wrong.