#aderna01

the silence between you and bucky barnes had become a physical thing. it had weight and texture, a suffocating blanket that had been slowly smothering you for three weeks. three weeks of empty hallways, of him turning corners the moment he saw you, of meals eaten at opposite ends of a table that suddenly felt a mile long. it was a stark, brutal contrast to the months before, when his quiet presence had been the most comforting thing in your new life at the tower.

you remembered the beginning so clearly. you’d moved in, a ghost, a secret weapon the team had plucked from the clutches of a colombian cartel who trained you. years of your life, stolen and twisted, had turned you into something sharp and deadly. you’d refused them at first, the idea of being anyone’s soldier again leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but you’d watched the news, seen the world teetering on a precipice, and knew your skills could do more good than harm hiding away in some remote corner of the globe.

the tower had been intimidating at first. all that glass and steel, filled with gods and super-soldiers and men who built their own personal flying suits. you’d kept to yourself, your past making you wary of forming connections. bucky had been the most intimidating of all, a silent shadow with a haunted look in his eyes that mirrored your own. for the first month, you didn’t speak a single word to each other. you’d share space in the common room, a careful distance between you, two broken things trying not to shatter the others.

the ice broke over a batch of burned pancakes. it was your turn to cook breakfast, a simple task you’d thought you could manage. you’d gotten distracted, lost in a memory, and the smell of acrid sugar and blackened batter had filled the kitchen. you’d been frantically waving a dish towel at the shrieking smoke detector when a low chuckle cut through the chaos. you turned to see bucky leaning against the doorframe, a genuine, unguarded smile on his face. the sight of it hit you like a physical blow, so unexpected and warm.

“need a hand there, pyro?” he’d asked, his voice raspy from disuse.

something in you broke. a hysterical giggle escaped your lips, and then another, until you were laughing so hard you had to brace yourself against the counter. it wasn’t even that funny, but the release, the sheer absurdity of it, was overwhelming. he laughed with you, a deep, rumbling sound that felt like the first thaw of spring. from that moment on, you were inseparable.

he was the only one who understood the nightmares, the phantom pains of a past that wouldn’t let go. you’d spend hours talking in hushed tones in the dead of night, sharing stories that were too heavy for the light of day. those talks led to other things. stolen kisses in the training room, his lips tasting of mint and sweat. nights spent tangled in your sheets, his metal arm a cool, comforting weight on your hip, his touch chasing away the demons that haunted your sleep. he never treated you like you were fragile, but he handled you like you were precious. it was the safest you’d ever felt.

and then, three weeks ago, it all just stopped. no explanation. no fight. just a sudden, cold distance that left you reeling and more alone than you’d felt since you first arrived.

now, you sat in the sterile conference room, the holographic display in the center of the table painting a tactical map of tokyo in blue light. your first mission. it should have felt like a victory, a culmination of all your hard work and training. instead, it felt like a punishment.

“as you know,” steve was saying, his voice calm and steady, “we’ve intercepted intel on a major weapons exchange. the buyers are a high-level terrorist cell, the sellers are dealing in a new chemical agent. the location is a warehouse in the shibuya district.”

tony swiped a hand through the air, bringing up a 3d model of the target building. “the exchange is scheduled for 2200 hours. our objective is to hit them during the transaction, secure the chemical agent, and neutralize all hostiles. but,” he added, zooming in on the surrounding streets, “their security is no joke. they’ve got multiple patrols circulating the perimeter. highly mobile, heavily armed. we can’t get the strike team in without drawing their attention.”

he looked directly at you and bucky, and your stomach plummeted. “so, we need a diversion. a loud, flashy, and highly mobile one.”

steve’s gaze followed tony’s. “we need a pair to draw the patrols on a high-speed chase through the city, leading them as far away from the exchange site as possible. it needs to be convincing, and it needs to last until we’ve secured the warehouse. thankfully, we sent an anonymous tip their way so they know your car might give them trouble.”

your heart hammered against your ribs. you knew what was coming. you were the best shot on the team, your aim honed by years of brutal, unforgiving training. and bucky… well, bucky had learned to drive in a war, and he’d never forgotten how to handle a car like it was an extension of his own body.

“bucky, you’ll be driving,” steve said, confirming your fear. “your skills are unmatched for this kind of evasive maneuvering.” he turned to you. “and you’ll be his gunner. we need someone who can disable those vehicles without destroying them completely, and your precision is exactly what we need.”

you couldn’t bring yourself to look at bucky. you could feel his stillness from across the table, a palpable tension that radiated from him. for weeks, he had been a void where your friend used to be, and now you were supposed to trust him with your life. you were supposed to be a seamless unit, a well-oiled machine. the irony was so bitter it almost made you laugh.

“any questions?” steve asked, his eyes scanning the room.

silence. you just stared at the glowing blue map, your jaw tight.

“great,” tony said, clapping his hands together. “wheels up in two hours. try not to wreck the car. I kind of like that one.”

the meeting adjourned, and you were out of your chair before anyone else, needing to escape, to breathe. you practically fled to the quinjet hangar, needing to feel the open space, to prepare your gear and your mind for the mission without his suffocating presence nearby.

the sleek, black sports car sat waiting in the cargo hold, a beautiful machine designed for speed and destruction. you ran your hands over the cool metal, checking the mounted gun on the passenger side, the custom modifications tony had made. it was perfect. deadly. just like you.

you heard his footsteps before you saw him, a familiar tread that made your shoulders tense. you didn’t turn around.

“hey,” he said, his voice quiet.

you continued checking the ammo clip, your movements sharp and precise as your fingers glided over the gun. “barnes.” you state flatly.

he flinched at the formality. “look… we should talk before we head out.”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice dangerously low. “you can’t be serious… you’ve been avoiding me for weeks and you choose now, right before a mission, to suddenly talk to me? let’s just do our job and go back to ignoring each other afterward, yeah?” you snapped.

you finally risked a glance at him. the hurt on his face was plain, but it was quickly masked by the familiar, stoic mask of the winter soldier. he deserved it. every bit of it.

“right,” he said, his voice flat. “the mission.”

you nodded curtly and turned back to the car. “just stay out of my way, and i’ll stay out of yours. we’ll get it done.”

the quinjet ride to tokyo was thick with unspoken words. you sat as far away from him as possible, cleaning your weapons, going over the mission specs in your head, anything to keep from looking at him. but you could feel him watching you, his gaze a heavy weight you couldn’t shrug off.

by the time the jet landed and you and bucky had driven the car off the large jet, night had fallen over tokyo. the city was a dazzling blur of neon and rain, the lights bleeding across the wet pavement. bucky drove with an unnerving calm, weaving through traffic with an effortless precision that was almost beautiful. you were supposed to be the bait, as you drove by the marked location, you’d found your tail almost immediately. two black suvs immediately recognized the car, their engines roaring as they closed in on you.

“here we go,” bucky murmured, his hands tightening on the wheel.

“let’s give them a show,” you replied, your voice all business.

he gunned the engine, and the car leaped forward, a surge of adrenaline shooting through your veins. the chase was on. he drove like a man possessed, taking corners on two wheels, threading through impossibly small gaps, using the cityscape as his personal playground. the suvs stayed with you, their headlights cutting through the rain.

“ready?” he called over the roar of the engine.

“born ready,” you shot back, rolling down your window.

the cold, wet air whipped past you as you climbed halfway out, bracing yourself against the door. you raised your rifle, the scope a familiar comfort against your eye. you found the lead suv, aimed for the engine block, and squeezed the trigger. the shot was true. the car swerved, smoke billowing from the hood, but it kept coming.

“nice shot,” bucky grunted, rolling his eyes at your near-perfect aim, all while swerving to avoid a taxi.

“you ain’t seen nothing yet,” you muttered under your breath, taking aim again.

you took out the second suv's radiator, a plume of steam erupting into the night. it fishtailed, slowing considerably, but the first one was still on you, relentless. the chase was a violent symphony of squealing tires, roaring engines, and the percussive beat of your rifle fire. you were a well-oiled machine, just as steve had wanted, but the silence between you was a grinding, dissonant chord.

“more coming up on your left!” bucky grunted, looking through his mirrors to see more cars joining the chase. he wrenched the wheel hard to the right. the car skidded, the back end sliding out in a controlled drift that sent you slamming against the door frame. “two of ‘em. i can’t shake them on this side.”

you swore under your breath, ducking back into the car to reload. your back was facing the dashboard as you glanced out his window, you saw them. a sleek sedan and another suv, flanking you, matching your speed. there was no clean shot from your side. you were exposed.

“hold on,” you said, your voice tight.

“what are you—”

you didn’t give him time to finish. you threw your rifle onto the back seat, ignoring his shocked look. in one fluid, practiced motion, you swung your leg over the center console, straddling his lap. the shift in weight made the car lurch, but he corrected it instantly, his hands steady on the wheel.

“what the hell are you doing?” he ground out, his eyes wide as you settled against him, your chest pressed to his. the position was intimate, explosive, and utterly insane.

“i can’t get a shot from my side,” you yelled, pulling your sidearm from its holster. you braced one hand on the top of his doorframe, the other on his shoulder, and leaned out his window. the wind and rain lashed at your face. Your eyes flickered down quickly to where he was driving, him looking straight at you, “eyes on the fucking road barnes!” you yelled as he swerved quickly to avoid hitting an object in the street. The car jutted, making you fall back onto his lap.

for a second, he was frozen beneath you, the heat of his body seeping through your tactical gear. then, with a low growl that was pure frustration and something else you couldn’t name, he complied. the car surged forward, and you took aim at the sedan.

the first shot shattered the driver’s side window. the second blew out a front tire. the car spun out, crashing into a barrier. one down. the suv, however, was more persistent. it swerved behind you, and you knew you couldn’t get a clean angle.

the anger you’d been bottling for three weeks finally erupted. “you know what, bucky? this is just like old times! except for the part where you actually talk to me!” you shouted over the wind, firing another shot that ricocheted harmlessly off the suv’s armored frame.

“i’m driving!” he yelled back, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he took a sharp turn down a narrow alley.

“no, you’re avoiding me! you’ve been avoiding me for weeks! what the hell did i do?” the words were torn from you, raw and painful. “was it bad? did i do something wrong? just tell me!” you said, trying to steady your aim on the car.

the suv rammed your bumper, and the car jolted hard. you were thrown back against his chest, his metal arm automatically coming up to brace your waist, holding you steady. the touch was electric, a painful reminder of what you’d lost.

“it’s not you!” he finally roared, the sound ripped from his throat. he swerved again, narrowly missing a stack of pallets. “it was never you!”

“then what?” you demanded, both frustrated that he wouldn’t give you an answer and annoyed that you couldn’t shoot the chasing suv. “what was it, bucky? you can’t just… you can’t just kiss me like you mean it and then vanish! you don’t get to do that to me!” you yelled quickly moving out of this lap, back onto your seat, now that the suv was directly behind yours.

“i was trying to keep you safe!” he blurted out, the words bursting from him like a dam breaking. he took a corner so hard you were sure the car would flip, his driving growing more erratic, more desperate. “from me!”

the confession hung in the air, stunning you into silence. you stared at him, his profile sharp and illuminated by the passing neon lights. he looked tormented, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might break.

“safe?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, laced with incredulity. a bitter, humorless laugh escaped your lips. “you were trying to keep me safe? by ignoring me? by acting like i don’t exist? that’s your grand plan for my safety?” you retorted as you took two shots out your window.

“i’m a monster!” he shot back, his voice cracking. “everything i touch, i ruin! my past… it’s not just history, it’s a goddamn curse. and then this mission… your first one… i knew they’d pair us together. i knew i’d have to watch you walk into danger, and i couldn’t… i can’t be the reason you get hurt. i can’t be the weakness that gets you killed.”

the suv was still there, a relentless predator. you raised your gun, your hands shaking now for an entirely different reason. “you think i don’t know what it’s like to have a past?” you yelled, your body half out the window. your voice thick with emotion. “you think my hands are clean? i was a child soldier for a cartel, bucky! i was trained to be a weapon before i could even drive! i have done… things… that will haunt me forever. don’t you dare stand there and tell me you’re protecting me from your darkness. i’ve been living in the dark my whole fucking life!”

you finally got your shot. the suv swerved, exposing its fuel tank. you fired three rounds in quick succession. the car exploded in a ball of fire, the force of it pushing your car forward. bucky slammed on the brakes, as you sunk back into your seat, the tires screaming as the car skidded to a halt in the middle of the empty alley.

silence descended, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths and the crackle of flames from the wrecked vehicle. the adrenaline was fading, leaving a raw, trembling ache in its place.

he looked at you, really looked at you, and the mask of the winter soldier was gone. all that was left was bucky. broken, beautiful, bucky. his blue eyes were swimming with regret, shining with unshed tears.

“fuck” he whispered, his voice hoarse. running a shaky hand through his hair. “i’m fucking idiot. i was so scared of my past hurting you, i didn’t stop to think about how i was hurting you myself.” his metal hand tightened around the wheel, the car still completely stopped. “i’m so, so sorry, doll. i pushed away the best thing in my life because i was a coward.” he said looking down towards the steady wheel.

the fight drained out of you, leaving you feeling hollowed out and exhausted. “don’t do that again,” you murmured. “don’t ever push me away again. we face our demons together, remember? that was the deal.”

“i remember,” he said softly. his eyes finally looking up to meet yours “i won’t. i promise.”

he leaned in, across the center console and this time, the kiss wasn’t like the others. it wasn’t stolen or secret. it wasn’t born of desperation or comfort. it was a declaration. it was messy and desperate and full of the rain and the smoke and the taste of apology. it was a kiss that said ‘i’m here’ and ‘i’m not leaving’.

when you finally pulled apart, your foreheads resting together, the comms in your ear crackled to life.

“diversion team, what’s your status?” steve’s voice was crisp and professional. “the exchange is secured.”

bucky looked at you, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. he keyed the comms. “sorry, cap. had a little car trouble. we’re en route now. five minutes out.”

the ride back to the quinjet was different. the silence was no longer a void; it was filled with unspoken understanding. his hand found yours, his fingers lacing with yours, a silent, steadfast promise.

the debriefing was a blur of congratulations and back-slapping. tony was already gloating about his car’s performance, sam was making jokes about bucky’s driving, and steve was giving you both a proud nod but you and bucky only had eyes for each other.

as the team dispersed, heading towards the common room for celebratory drinks and the rest of the debriefing, bucky caught your arm. he didn’t say a word, just tilted his head towards the service elevator. you knew exactly what he meant. you slipped away from the group, unnoticed in the post-mission excitement, and stepped into the empty elevator.

the moment the doors closed, he was on you. he pushed you against the wall, his body pressing into yours, his mouth finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. all the weeks of pent-up longing, all the fear and regret, poured into it. his hands were everywhere, one tangling in your hair, the other gripping your hip, pulling you closer.

“bucky,” you gasped as his lips moved to your neck, his teeth scraping your sensitive skin. “not here.”

“my room,” he growled against your skin. “now.”

the elevator doors opened on his floor, and you two practically ran down the hall, him fumbling with the keycard to his room. the door clicked open, and you both stumbled inside, kicking it shut behind you. his room was dark and sparse, a mirror of the man himself but right now, it was the only place you wanted to be in.

Once the door clicked shut, the sound echoed in the quiet room. before you could even register the darkness, his hands were on you again, turning you, pressing you back against the cool wood of the door. his mouth claimed yours with a ferocity that stole your breath, a desperate, hungry kiss that was three weeks of silence and longing given form. there was no gentleness here, only a raw, primal need to close the distance he had so cruelly created.

“bucky,” you gasped, your hands fisting in the fabric of his tac suit, pulling him impossibly closer. you needed to feel him, all of him, to erase the memory of the cold emptiness he had left you with.

“god, i missed you,” he groaned against your lips, the words a ragged confession. his metal hand was cool against your heated skin as he slid it under your shirt, his fingers splaying across the small of your back, holding you flush against him. “every second. i was so stupid.”

“yeah, you were,” you breathed, but there was no heat in it, only a desperate relief. you arched into him, a silent invitation he didn’t hesitate to accept.

he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you away from the door. the world became a blur of motion, his mouth never leaving yours, a frantic, messy dance of lips and teeth and tongue. he didn’t bother with the lights. the only illumination came from the city skyline bleeding through his massive window, painting the room in strokes of silver and blue. he laid you down on his bed, the sheets cool against your back, and finally, finally, pulled back just enough to look at you.

his eyes were dark, the blue almost completely swallowed by the black of his pupils. he looked at you like he was starving, and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. “i’m going to make it up to you,” he promised, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated through you. “let me show you.”

you just nodded, your throat too tight to speak. he knelt over you, his movements deliberate now, a stark contrast to the frantic energy from moments before. he reached for the zipper of your tac suit, his fingers brushing against your collarbone. the sound of the metal teeth parting was obscenely loud in the quiet room. he peeled the heavy fabric away, his gaze following his hands, feeling every inch of skin he exposed.

he took his time, mapping the landscape of your body with his lips and tongue. he kissed the scars on your arms, the ones you were so self-conscious of, his touch so gentle it made your eyes burn. he traced the line of your ribs, the curve of your hips, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he wasn’t just touching you; he was relearning you, committing you to memory all over again.

when his mouth finally closed over your breast, you cried out, your back arching off the bed. your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to you as he lavished attention on you, his tongue swirling around your peaked nipple before he gently bit down. the pleasure was sharp, exquisite, a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core.

“bucky, please,” you begged, your hips rising to meet his, seeking the friction you so desperately craved.

he lifted his head, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “patience, doll. i’ve got three weeks to make up for, remember?”

he moved lower, his mouth tracing a path down your stomach, his metal hand holding your hips still when you tried to squirm. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one smooth motion. he tossed them aside, his eyes fixed on the part of you that was weeping for him.

“so beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. and then he lowered his head and his mouth was on you.

you cried out, your hands flying to his head, your fingers tangling in his soft hair as his tongue delved into your folds. he ate you out with a single-minded intensity, his tongue circling your clit before he sucked it into his mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. he knew exactly how to touch you, exactly how to drive you wild, and he used that knowledge mercilessly. he slid one finger, then two, inside you, his metal digits cool against your slick heat as he curled them, finding that spot inside you that made you see stars.

the pressure built, a tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers. “bucky, i’m… i’m close,” you panted, your hips rocking against his face.

“come for me,” he commanded, his voice vibrating against you. “let me hear you.”

that was all it took. the coil snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure so intense it stole your breath. you cried out his name, your body convulsing as you rode out the waves of your release, his mouth and fingers working you through every last spasm.

he didn’t give you a chance to recover. he moved over you, his body a hard, heavy weight that you welcomed. he was still fully dressed, the rough fabric of his suit a delicious friction against your sensitive skin. he kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips, a heady, intimate flavor that made you moan.

“you with me?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

“always,” you breathed, your hands moving to the zipper of his own suit. you needed him inside you, needed to feel him, to be joined with him in the most fundamental way. 

you fumbled with the zipper, your hands shaking with need, and he helped you, shrugging out of the top half of the suit before kicking off his pants. he was magnificent, all hard muscle and scars, a testament to the life he’d lived. his cock was hard and heavy, curving up towards his stomach, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip.

he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours. “i love you,” he said, the words a raw, vulnerable truth. “i was an idiot, and i was scared, but i love you. i should have told you that before.”

tears pricked your eyes, but this time they weren’t from anger or hurt. “i love you too, you idiot.” you whispered quietly.

he grinned, a real, genuine, breathtaking grin that made your heart do a stupid little flip and then he pushed into you, sinking into your heat in one slow, deep stroke. you both groaned at the sensation, the perfect, rightness of it. he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and utterly perfect. his head falling onto your shoulder.

he started to move, his strokes slow and deep at first, a deliberate rhythm that built the pleasure all over again. he watched you as he moved, his eyes dark and intense, his gaze never leaving yours. it was too much, too intimate, and you had to look away, your head falling back against the pillows

“no,” he grunted, his hand coming up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. “eyes on me. i want to see you.”

you met his gaze, and the connection between you was so powerful it was almost painful. he increased his pace, his movements becoming harder, faster, more demanding. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low, guttural grunts. he hooked one of your legs over his arm, changing the angle, and he drove into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

“bucky,” you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“fuck” he growled, his rhythm becoming erratic, his thrusts losing their smoothness as he chased his own release. “come with me. one more time, doll.”

he reached between you, his thumb finding your clit, and he rubbed it in tight, circles. that was all it took. your orgasm ripped through you, even more powerful than the last, and you screamed his name, your body clamping down around him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. he followed you over the edge with a hoarse cry, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside you, his hips jerking against yours as he emptied himself into you.

he collapsed on top of you, his body a heavy, welcome weight, his face buried in the crook of your neck. you were both breathing heavily, your hearts hammering against your ribs. you lay like that for a long time, just holding each other, your bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of your passion.

after a while, he rolled off you, pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. his heartbeat was a steady, reassuring rhythm against your ear. the city lights twinkled outside the window, a silent witness to your reunion.

“we’re going to be in so much trouble for missing the rest of the debriefing,” you murmured, a contented smile playing on your lips.

he chuckled, the sound a low, rumbling vibration in his chest. “worth it,” he said as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “so worth it.”

you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. “yeah,” you agreed, your heart full. “it really was.”

─˖· masterlist

bullshit repeats itself, is that how the saying goes?

you watch him pace across the living room floor, his movements sharp and erratic. the worn wooden boards creak under his weight with every step, a rhythm that's become all too familiar in your shared apartment. it's three in the morning, and neither of you has slept. the argument started hours ago, though you can barely remember what triggered it this time. something about him flinching when you reached for him in the dark, something about the nightmares that have been getting worse again.

"i can't do this anymore," he says for what must be the hundredth time, his voice raw and broken. "i'm poison to you. everything i touch turns to ash."

your fingers twist in the hem of your oversized t-shirt – his, actually – as you watch him. bucky barnes, the man you've loved since you met him in romania, looks more like a ghost than a person tonight. his eyes are hollowed out, haunted by things he won't speak of, things that live in the dark spaces between his memories and his reality. you know he's thinking about hydra, about the blood on his hands, about all the lives he's taken. you know he's thinking about how unworthy he is of your love.

been here a thousand times (selective memory, though)

"we've been here before, buck," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "we always work through it."

he stops pacing and turns to face you, his blue eyes clouded with pain. "that's just it. we shouldn't have to 'work through it.' normal couples don't have to 'work through' the fact that one of them is a brainwashed assassin who could snap at any moment."

"you're not an assassin anymore," you counter, standing up and walking toward him. "that's not who you are."

"but it's part of me," he says, his voice cracking. "it's in my blood, in my bones. i look at you sometimes and i see everything i could destroy. i see how fragile you are, how... breakable. and i'm terrified that one day i'll be the one who breaks you."

you reach out to touch his face, but he flinches away from your hand like it's fire. the rejection stings, but you've learned not to take it personally. it's not you he's rejecting – it's the darkness inside himself that he's afraid will taint you.

i hear it in his eyes, he sees it in my tone

"i'm not as fragile as you think," you say, your voice stronger now. "i knew what i was getting into when we started this. i knew about your past, about the winter soldier."

"no," he shakes his head, his movements frantic. "you didn't. you couldn't have possibly understood what it would be like. the nightmares, the flashbacks, the way i freeze up sometimes. the way i can't stand to be touched when i'm having a bad day. you deserve someone whole, someone who can give you everything you need."

"i need you," you say simply. "just you. not some perfect version of you, not some sanitized version. i need the real you – nightmares and all."

is what it is and it's predictable

"and what happens when the real me hurts you?" he asks, his voice barely audible. "what happens when i have a nightmare and i don't wake up in time? what happens when hydra comes for me and you get caught in the crossfire?"

"then we deal with it," you say, stepping closer until there's barely any space between you. "together. that's what couples do, buck. they face things together."

he looks down at you, his expression unreadable. you can see the war raging behind his eyes – the desire to stay warring with the conviction that he should leave. you know he's right to be scared. you know the risks. but you also know that life without him would be a kind of death, a slow fading into gray nothingness.

all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said

"i love you," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "god, i love you so much it hurts. and that's why i have to let you go."

"i'm sorry," you reply, your own voice trembling now. "i'm sorry you're hurting. i'm sorry i can't fix it for you."

you reach up to cup his face in your hands, and this time he doesn't pull away. his skin is cold under your palms, his jaw tight with tension. you can feel the slight tremor in his muscles, the constant readiness for a fight that never comes.

we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right

your lips find his in a desperate, hungry kiss. it's not gentle or sweet – it's teeth and tongues and bruising force, a battle of wills and desires. his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepens the kiss. there's an urgency to your movements, a frantic need to connect, to bridge the chasm that's been widening between you for months.

clothes are shed in a flurry of motion, discarded on the floor like yesterday's arguments. his mouth trails down your neck, leaving a path of fire in its wake. your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything he has to give.

called it a false alarm to all of our friends

he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. the door slams shut behind you, sealing you in the bubble of your shared world – a world where there are no hydra agents, no nightmares, no past traumas. there's only the two of you, only this desperate need to feel alive, to feel connected, to feel something other than pain.

then we almost broke up again last night

his movements are rough, almost punishing, as he enters you. there's no tenderness here, no gentle exploration. this is raw and primal, a desperate attempt to outrun the demons that chase him. you meet his intensity with your own, your nails digging into his back, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. tears stream down your face, but you're not sure if they're from pleasure or pain. maybe both.

(we almost got so close)

afterward, you lie tangled together in the sheets, your bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and regret. his head rests on your chest, his ear pressed against your heart as if he's trying to memorize its rhythm. your fingers stroke through his hair, gentle now, soothing.

"don't leave me," you whisper into the darkness. "please, buck. don't leave me."

he doesn't answer, but you feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. it's the closest he'll come to saying yes, and you cling to it like a lifeline.

and when i reached to pull the plug

morning comes too soon, as it always does. the first rays of sunlight filter through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets. bucky is already awake, watching you with those haunted eyes of his. you can see the decision has been made again – he's going to try to leave.

i swear, he starts working out

"coffee?" you ask, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you.

he nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "yeah. coffee."

you make your way to the kitchen, your movements stiff and sore. the routine is familiar, comforting in its normalcy. you measure out the coffee grounds, add water, press start. the machine gurgles to life, filling the small space with the rich aroma of brewing coffee.

and on the days i'm a little much

bucky appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. he's pulled on a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare. the morning light catches the silver of his left arm, making it gleam. there are new scratches on his chest – from your nails, from last night's desperate coupling. you feel a pang of guilt, of shame.

that's when i tell them how sweet he treats me

"i was thinking," he says, his voice still rough from sleep. "maybe we could go to the farmer's market today. get some fresh vegetables. make that pasta you like."

your heart leaps at his words. it's an olive branch, a peace offering. it's him trying, even when it's hard, even when everything in him is screaming that he should run.

and how no other boys compete

"i'd like that," you say, turning to face him fully. "i'd really like that."

he crosses the distance between you, his flesh hand coming up to cup your cheek. his thumb strokes across your skin, gentle, reverent. "i'm sorry about last night," he says softly. "about... everything."

"you don't have to be sorry," you reply, leaning into his touch. "we're in this together, remember?"

he nods, his eyes closing briefly.

i know how it looks, i know how it sounds

the farmer's market is bustling with activity, a riot of colors and sounds and smells. you weave through the crowd, bucky's hand clasped firmly in yours. it's a simple gesture, but it feels monumental – a declaration to the world, and to yourselves, that you're still here, still fighting.

least we'll give 'em something to talk about

you buy tomatoes and basil and fresh pasta. bucky finds a stand selling homemade bread, still warm from the oven. he tears off a piece and

feeds it to you, his fingers brushing against your lips. the gesture is so domestic, so normal, it makes your heart ache. you catch the eye of an older woman browsing nearby, and she gives you a knowing smile. you wonder what she sees – a young couple in love, or something else? does she see the tension in bucky's shoulders, the way his eyes constantly scan the crowd? does she see the faint bruises on your wrists from where he held you too tight last night? or does she just see two people holding hands, sharing a moment on a sunny saturday morning?

all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said (sorry's were said)

"i love you," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. it's not the desperate, broken declaration from last night. it's simpler, steadier, like he's trying to convince himself as much as you.

"i love you too," you reply, squeezing his hand. the words feel both true and false, a promise you're not sure you can keep but will die trying.

we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right

back home, you put away the groceries while bucky starts a pot of sauce. the domesticity of it all feels surreal, like you're playing house in someone else's life. you move around each other in the small kitchen, a careful dance of avoidance and connection. his hip brushes against yours as he reaches for a knife, and you both freeze for a moment, the air crackling with unspoken tension.

called it a false alarm to all of our friends

"steve called," he says, his back to you as he chops garlic. "while you were in the shower. wanted to see if we wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow."

all your friends knew… obviously they knew, they could tell. steve invited you guys for dinner when he sensed something was off, you guys knew that.

"and?" you prompt, leaning against the counter.

"i told him we’d go," he replies. "told him we were good."

you close your eyes, a wave of relief washing over you. it's a lie, of course. you're not good. you're hanging on by a thread, but it's a lie you can live with, a lie you need to believe. it's the false alarm you'll send out to your friends, the signal that everything is fine, that the fire has been contained once again.

then we almost broke up again last night

the sauce simmers on the stove, filling the apartment with its rich aroma. bucky stands behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a rhythm that's both comforting and terrifying. you lean into him, letting yourself believe, just for a moment, that this could be enough, that this fragile peace could last.

you say we're driftin' apart

"we can't keep doing this," he says, his voice soft but firm. "this cycle. the fighting, the... making up. it's not healthy. it's not fair to you." he added, his face slightly frowning.

i said, "yeah, i fucking know"

you turn in his arms, looking up at him. "i know," you say, your voice sharp with frustration. "i know it's not healthy, bucky. what do you want me to do? let you go? let you run away and pretend you can escape this by yourself?"

big deal, we've been here before

"maybe that would be better," he says, his eyes pleading. "for you, at least."

"don't you dare say that," you snap, pushing away from him. "don't you dare pretend that leaving me would be some noble sacrifice. it's not. it's cowardice. you're scared, so you're running."

and we'll be here tomorrow

the fight escalates, words flying like shrapnel. old wounds are reopened, new ones are created. you're both crying now, angry, hurtful tears. you say things you don't mean, things you can't take back. he tells you he's a monster, you tell him he's being selfish. it's the same script, the same scene you've acted out a hundred times before.

oh

and then, as suddenly as it started, it's over. the anger burns itself out, leaving behind the familiar ashes of regret and sorrow. he sinks to the floor, his head in his hands. you stand over him, your chest heaving, your anger replaced by a wave of overwhelming sadness.

all the "i love you's" and "i'm sorry's" were said

"i'm sorry," he whispers, his voice muffled by his hands. "i'm so sorry, doll. i don't mean to... i just..."

"i know," you say, your voice softening. you sink to the floor beside him, pulling him into your arms. "i know."

we had our sex and then we made amends, that's right

he's crying now, really crying, silent, shuddering sobs that wrack his entire body. you hold him, rocking him gently, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. his tears soak through your shirt, hot against your skin. you can feel the desperation in his touch, the way he clings to you like you're the only solid thing in a world that's constantly shifting beneath his feet.

called it a false alarm to all of our friends

later, after the tears have subsided, after you've wiped his face with your thumbs and kissed his eyelids, you lead him to the bedroom. the sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the room. the light is soft and golden, making everything look beautiful, even the broken parts.

then we almost broke up again, oh

he lies back on the bed, his eyes closed, his expression weary. you straddle him, your hands resting on his chest. you can feel his heart beating under your palms, a frantic, desperate rhythm. you lean down, your hair falling around his face, and kiss him. it's a gentle kiss, a tender kiss, a kiss that says everything you can't put into words.

we almost broke up, we almost broke up again

his hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. his eyes open, and the look in them takes your breath away. it's a mixture of love and pain, hope and despair, a reflection of your own tangled emotions.

we almost broke up, we almost broke up again

you move against him, a slow, deliberate rhythm. there's no urgency this time, no desperation. it's slow and sweet and heartbreaking. it's an apology, a promise, a prayer. it's you saying, without words, that you're here, that you're not going anywhere, that you'll keep picking up the pieces as long as he keeps letting you.

gave me his whole heart and i gave him head and then

you take him into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate. this is your offering, your sacrifice. this is the one thing you can give him that no one else can, the one thing that can silence the demons, at least for a little while. his hands tangle in your hair, his hips rising to meet you. you can hear his breath hitch, can feel the tension coiling in his body. you look up at him, and his eyes are closed, his head thrown back in ecstasy. in this moment, he's not the winter soldier, not a victim of hydra, not a broken man. he's just bucky, your bucky, and he's yours.

we almost broke up, we almost broke up

afterward, you lie curled up together, the sheets tangled around your legs. the room is dark now, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside, casting a faint glow across the room. you can hear the sound of traffic, the distant wail of a siren, the normal sounds of a city that's still alive, still moving, even when you feel like your world has stopped.

yeah, we almost broke up again

"stay," he whispers, his voice thick with sleep. "please, just... stay."

you tighten your grip on him, your face buried in his chest. "i'm not going anywhere," you reply, your voice muffled by his skin. "i'm right here."

you know it's not a solution. you know it's not a fix. you know you'll be here again, in this same place, having this same fight, making this same desperate, heartbreaking choice. but for now, in the quiet darkness of your shared bed, it's enough. it has to be.

─˖· masterlist