Hey guys! So I initially posted these two stories on Tumblr and AO3 and now I'm posting it on here as well just to widen my boundaries and all that she-bang. :) This is Not a 40's fic.

Summary: Reader is recruited by the team. Upon setting her eyes on Bucky Barnes for the first time, she refuses to look at anyone else. But with Bucky's mind still set on Daisy, and his random unexplainable hate for this young girl, things quickly fall apart between them and her lust quickly dissolves into hate. They are eventually sent on a mission together in the dystopian world of a post apocalyptic New York City. Will Bucky's world continue to fall into ashes or will lust and love somehow find its way in? With the Avengers split and Bucky's team in nomad, the country has fallen into a dystopian state. Hydra is at its highest power, their rich and most powerful walking among the innocent with full control. Factions are created and chaos and war is among the good people. Cap's and Tony's team plan to take back the country. A mixture of Divergent/50 shades of grey vibe.

Pairing: Bucky/OC (reader)

Rating: Very strong M.

Chapter One

1938, Brooklyn, New York

There's an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background. The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation.

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious.

If you weren't eating it, you might as well be smelling it.

To most people it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He's now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective.

Within a moment's relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don't sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn't stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world.

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand.

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it's not like he was actually reading it), he sighs in aggravation.

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way.

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about.

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours, but had been only mere minutes.

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action.

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He'd have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they're born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so. They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it.

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him, because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque.

It read 'Director' in a golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity.

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry.

"I'm so sorry."

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity.

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes.

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven's sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak.

And it was.

"It's not your fault."

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

Climbing up a couple flight of stairs for Bucky had been a breeze. His mind had been distracted by how he would go about the rest of his school year as an orphan. He knew he wasn't 18 anymore so it wasn't like he'd have to find a foster home or anything. After all, he didn't mind staying in Brooklyn, this was his real home.

Somehow, he still felt extremely lonely, even if he hasn't seen his father in well over two years.

He pretends there isn't 22 pairs of eyes on him the moment he walks through the dingy wooden door. He pretends everyone isn't whispering between each other, discussing the blank look on Bucky's face after just coming from the school's Directory office. He'd imagined they'd all be assuming he'd been in trouble, judging by his initial dismissal earlier when two men in dark uniform had informed him to come down with them.

Little did they know that it wasn't anything like that, that instead, Bucky's heart was shaking from the fear of being alone and not from being in trouble. He was sad and he detested it. He needed to release that pent up feeling that he couldn't exactly name.

Part of him knew that this wouldn't be the last of the things he would lose.

Mind still running on one hundred miles an hour, Bucky's hand had grabbed onto the side of his desk and he spun directly into his seat, sighing out loud. Looking over to his left, his eyes scan over the small blonde. Next, his eyes drift down and he squints in concern, noticing the small paper balls surrounding his table's perimeter. They were carelessly thrown.

Bucky looked up and his eyes followed the laughter coming from group of guys a couple rows ahead. They were looking at Steve.

Looking back to his friend, he sees Steve's eyes remained on his paper, writing something furiously. He was clearly trying to ignore the laughter and anger boiling up in his gut.

A sense of sadness overcame Bucky, but a different kind than what he was feeling earlier. This wasn't sorrow or loss, this was almost complete furious anger. Looking back up and realizing this wouldn't be the proper moment to confront the two gentlemen, he grabs Steve comfortingly by his small shoulder.

Steve recoils at first, probably thinking it was the bullies. His eyes automatically light up when he realizes it's his best friend.

Just as quickly, his smile fades, noticing the despaired look behind Bucky's eyes.

Bucky frowned and cursed Steve in his head. He hated that his friend was so well at seeing right through him. He didn't want to be saved when he wasn't the one worth saving. But Steve, he was too good at that - seeing through people.

"Is everything alright?" Steve's voice was strong, it always had been. It was an important detail that always caught a bully off guard. It reflected Steve's inner perseverance and determination; his inability to back down from something he knew was much bigger than him.

Much like Bucky, he was also loyal.

His eyes furrowed, concern for his friend's well being now being the only important thing to him. The bullies were long forgotten.

Bucky chuckled, trying to shove down the pain and clearly not wanting to push his own problems on his best friend. He would tell him about today's events, but not right now. He had to be strong. Pain equals weakness.

"Yeah, pal. Everything is okay."

More rude chuckling and gazes from the boys went towards Steve's way. It was obvious on his face that he was trying to ignore it. Bucky could feel Steve nudge against his hand and try to stand up. He wanted to confront them, but Bucky's strong hand pushed him back down.

Bucky's nose flared in annoyance as he glared at the boys. This wasn't the time. It wasn't worth it. He cleared his throat and gave Steve a squeeze, his hand still on his shoulder.

"Listen," he started off sternly, "You and me tonight outside the cotton club. Tolda' couple of fine ladies we'd be there to have a good time. Whad'ya think, huh?"

While that up'ed Steve's mood a bit, he knew what that truly meant. It meant two girls would be arm in arm, each one on Bucky's side with Steve on the outs. But he knew would still have a good time, because Bucky made it that way for him. And to be fairly honest it wasn't like the girls Bucky chose were superficial. They were genuinely sweet, and more often than not, saw the same thing in Steve that Bucky saw.

Steve always secretly admired that.

So it was a lie if he said he now wasn't looking forward to tonight.

The rain dragged out through the day, making it drag on more than it needed to. The gust ran heavy, picking up stronger at times as it blew the winter coats of gorgeous ladies inches up their shins just outside 125th street. This was something that was not overlooked by one Bucky Barnes.

He'd turn his head slightly and smirk, nudging Steve with his elbow to make sure his buddy saw as well. Steve blushed a deep red and Bucky chuckled at his reaction.

He enjoyed it too much, the thrill of the catch of yet another fine lady. They seemed to hover towards him like a moth to a flame, especially when they knew sooner or later he'd be leaving for the army. He found nothing wrong with that.

That was the thing these days, every darn Vivien Leigh was dying to get a soldier on her right arm to kiss them goodbye. To an outsider, the way he went about it at times came off as shallow and womanizing. Although, to the contrary, he didn't want them simply for a night of love making and then later throw them away like scrap. It was rare that he would ever consider a girl interesting enough to actually bring home. (Rare to a man whore, that is.) It was seeing the joy on their face while they had a great time that brought him a feeling of satisfaction. He loved to show them a good time.

Don't get him wrong, he loved sex and he'd root to have it as much as he could, it was one of his favorite things. But he respected it as well.

To him, and most men, ladies were too precious and innocent to know anything of the war. They were a lady and had to be treated as such, their spot in the kitchen was just fine.

He genuinely enjoyed that mental break when he was around them, not having to speak of the war or anything they couldn't handle. He just wished Steve was at times similar and not always thinking about them damn nazis.

He loved seeing Steve relish in patriotism for his country and he definitely loved and respected how courageous he was, but if not being careful and without being realistic, he was bound to get himself killed. He wished that just for a second, Steve would lay back and have some fun like a normal young man.

He didn't understand why Steve didn't know that you don't always have to fight back.

At the end of the day, he knows that he's just insanely protective of Steve. Which is why his arm instinctively goes around him when Rogers almost gets hit by a speeding vehicle that abruptly stops to halt in front of them on the curb. With his mind far away, he hadn't realize they were already standing on the sidewalk in front of one bright sign labeled Cotton Club.

Had Bucky known better, he would've had him on his left.

After that introduction, the two boys look over to the object that almost killed them.

It was pure black, the countless lights coming from the surrounding buildings and cars bouncing off its surface. The rain must've made it even more shiny, the lights made a reflection so bright that it had everyone staring. Men looked in awe and a young paper boy, standing on the corner working over time, wondered if that would someday be his future.

With a look of disgust, Steve was repulsed by the obscurity of the man's driving having nearly hit him. He wondered why people had no respect and he desperately wanted to punch his face in. Either that or give him a pep talk about general safety.

"What a twit." He snarls, dusting off his small suspenders and kicking the invisible debris off his lapels.

Bucky's face held something different. It explained why the woman staring had looked on in pure jealousy. He stared forward completely emotionless. He was neither annoyed at the fact that he almost just got run over and killed and nor in obsession over the Duesenberg J.

It was the beautiful goddess emerging from the passenger seat that caught his full attention.

On her left hand was a pearl and diamond bracelet and she used it to skim over the top of the priceless car door for leverage to push herself gracefully up from the leather seat. Her other hand was wrapped up in a prestige white glove. It held onto the hem of her silver sparkling gown, a long white cigar between her digits. Her gorgeous dress looked heavy, you could tell it was so properly made and expensive because it must've weighed as much as her petite self. The reason being that it hugged her body at just the perfect places, showing off her curves gracefully.

Her perfect blonde hair was pulled slick back by a diamond hair clip to the side in huge voluminous waves. The dress showed just enough back, the material dipping down towards the floor, the dip ending just above her bottom. The entire thing was held by two tiny silver straps on her shoulders.

In a sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington seemed to have played perfectly in sync with the exact moment she shut the door behind her. She looked up to read the sign, her perfect profile looking up in awe. Everything seemed to have shifted on earth's axel as the city lights reflected off her porcelain skin, her blood red lipstick making a gorgeous contrast with it. Her long lashes slowly brushed against the top of her cheekbones as she blinked and looked around.

Bucky's world seemed to have gone silent at that exact moment. He scanned her features with such dexterity and at lost for words, trying to control the heavy beating in his chest. He swore he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

A man seemed to have said something behind her and she left out the most beautiful sound between her lips that Buck had ever heard. That man greeted her at her side with his arm outstretched for her to take, his smug smile lighting up his face. Bucky hated that man.

The handsome man's shoulders were broad as the couple walked towards the entrance right past Bucky and Steve. Bucky turned his head, following her figure until it disappeared inside.

She didn't even notice him staring at her.

"Can you believe that? He doesn't even realize what he's done." Steve continued on, obviously still upset.

Bucky's eyes followed the woman, unable to shake the thought he'd been reminiscing about since the moment he laid eyes on her.

He had to know her.

If he had to be honest, Bucky was trying to think of an excuse for his dates as to why he had to leave.

He just couldn't stop thinking about her.

Those piercing blue eyes, the perfect blonde hair, and those lips he so wanted to touch or just hear speak.

It was strange, but the sudden attraction he had towards this stranger was something he couldn't quite explain. But he could feel it in his gut. It was an itch that wouldn't go away until he at least found out her name.

"Buck? Come on man," Bucky's eyes finally gazed down to Steve and then he looked at this two dates who he realized has shown up and hadn't even notice, "I know it's a nice car, but you're scaring me."

Bucky smirked. He put both his arms around Steve and the two girls, "You're right, I'm sorry. Let's just go and have a good time, huh?" He turns to one of the girls, and he doesn't even remember her name, "You don't have any where to be all night, right?" He asked with a wink.

Both girls giggled and the four went inside the building.

His eyes scanned the room as soon as he set foot in the venue. Loud jazz blasted in his ears and he made a mental note that he had to ask her for a dance- at least one.

But he couldn't get ahead of himself. First, he had to find her.

"Buck. What are you looking for?" an annoyed Steve pried. Bucky wanted to grab both girl's hands and just place one in each of Steve's and tell them to have a good time and for them to walk away. He didn't want to seem to come off rude, but they were in the way of what could possibly be the future that he always wanted.

"Yeah, Bucky. Waddya lookin for? We're right here." The other girl (he didn't know her name either) said flirtatiously with a hand to his chest and a heavy old New York accent.

He pulled her hand off of him, and with a shake of his head. He did a double take and it was at that moment that he saw her sitting across the room. She was in the lounge area holding a martini with that gloved hand and she was talking to the guy who she had walked in earlier with. Except he was standing angrily and looking like he was moments from walking away from her. Bucky squinted his eyes as he noticed the man yelling and stomp his foot.

He began motioning maniacally towards the main stage and was yelling so loud Bucky could've heard him if it wasn't for the loud music.

The pretty woman rolled her eyes and crossed her legs, revealing a long slit that ran up her dress. It was just enough skin for Bucky's hand to get sweaty.

He waited until the perfect opportunity when the man had walked towards the direction of the stage, making his way into to the back behind the curtain. Bucky stretched out his arm and patted Steve on his shoulder, "Look Steve, I gotta go do something. Keep the girls company." He added with a wink.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he looked between both girls. Both hilariously held the same look as him. Did they hear him right? Steve swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bouncing up and down, "What?" he squeaked.

Bucky walked away, leaving three startled people behind.

The blood rang in his ears on his walk over to the girl. Was he really doing this? He almost felt like his legs was just taking him, that he had mentally no control over what he was doing. He sees her take another confident sip of her drink and he swallows hard. Maybe he should go back.

He's never felt so much nerve and yet conviction in his life. He had tunnel vision at this point, everything around him was black and quiet except for her. It was as if there was a while halo around her form, asking for him to follow the light. No fault of his own, he couldn't even hear the three upset people calling after him as he walked away. Halfway to her, she had looked up mistakingly and caught his eye.

He felt his heart explode in his chest but then falter when she looked away.

Here we go again. She thought to herself.

She smirked when he reached her. Her legs were still crossed and her eyes remained on her drink.

"Ma'am." He acknowledged her. She noticed the lack of confidence in his voice and tried not to cringe. His face went ghostly pale. He hated himself for letting his voice shake so much. It was silent for a good couple of seconds and he realized she wasn't going to look his way. He figured he might as well just head straight on instead of walking away without saying anything else. He cleared his throat, "I just wanted to tell you," speaking was good, it showed more confidence, but he realized that he actually had no idea what he wanted to say. This never happened to him before. He decided to go with honesty as he stared at her, "you look beautiful." He breathed that last word while giving her a look over. It was honest, it was genuine.

His flirting skills had completely gone down the drain and he knew it. He felt like he was going to throw up. She still didn't look over at him, it was as if she's heard that phrase a million times.

He takes a step closer and clears his throat again before opening his mouth to say more, but surprisingly no words come out, only a faint squeak.

The lady takes a sip of her martini and swirls the olive around with the tip of her finger. She's impressed with his move. Usually guys come up to her and tell her she's beautiful and then ask if she wants to go to his place, to which she denies because she's disgusted. She wonders where this one is going to go with this.

It's not that she was cocky, she just knew this game too well. He had to be like all the others, right?

Bucky's mouth is stuck as he watches her and mistakes her interest for complete disinterest. His lips were going to form more pickup lines, but now regret is itching at his throat and the awful pain of heartache. His mind shifts gears and instead of a pickup line he's trying to come with an apology; he's embarrassed.

His face is still ghostly pale and he's about to walk away from this opportunity when a delicious sound leaves her mouth.

Because that doesn't always happen. The voice in her head says.

He turns his feet to spin back around,

"Daisy."

Bucky stops and his mouth is agape and he's never been more lost. He's confused but also in love with the sound of whatever just left her mouth. He tried to fix his posture and make it seem like he knows what's going on, because the last thing he wanted to look like was an idiot.

He even momentarily looks over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't speaking to someone else. The pearliest white smile fills her face as she uncrosses her legs and places her drink on the table in front of her. Her bracelet glistens in the dim light, as does her eyes.

The moment his eyes meets hers, something happens across her face. Her muscles loosen and her mouth gapes a bit. His eyebrows knit and then unknit, It was almost as if she seemed to have gotten those same emotions he did when he first saw her step out of her ride.

She clears her throat, "That's my name."

Bucky is still shellshocked but now his lips are peeking up at the sides into a smile. She chuckles at his non response and motions forward with her hand as if for him to keep going, completely ignoring the heat in her cheeks and rapid beating in her chest, "I'd love to know yours as well."

He's about to speak when they hear a commotion coming from the back stage. He feels fear and jealousy in his gut and she notes it in his eyes when she notices where he was looking at, "Is that your...?"

"Brother." Relief washes over Bucky and he lets out a chuckle. The edges of her mouth perk up. He was happy about that. And she was happy about this. "Are you usually this shy?" The vintage Brooklyn accent was heavy on her voice now.

Bucky shakes his head, "No. Never." He says so confidently and quickly that she believes him. He isn't new at this, "Just with you, ma'm."

This comment alone completely takes away what's left of the girl's immense self confidence and a deep blush creeps up her neck. Her earth tilts on its axis as well. She feels a weird tremble in her hands that she's never felt before and she knows what it is immediately. She examines his gorgeous eyes, his perfect jawline, and that boyish brown hair.

She didn't notice how gorgeous he truly was until that moment. Bucky takes another step forward and extends his hand, "Dance with me?"

Her lips twitch. Slowly moving towards the edge of her seat, she slides her white gloved hand into his, a moment he and she would never forget, and he pulls her up slowly onto her feet. She can't look away from his bright smile as he pulls her in.

They don't go out to where the majority of the people are, but instead they dance in that exact spot. If they were to be brutally honest, it wasn't even dancing, they were swaying to The Way You Look Tonight.

It's those two minutes of silence that they both feel something they've never felt with anyone else before. It's entirely magical and heart straining. She feels the heat of his front against hers and she wonders if he's feeling the same powerful things she's feeling. Because this wasn't just any regular feeling, It was not lust and it wasn't just attraction, it was something else. He had to feel it too or she wouldn't be the same ever gain.

It was strange, because he was a stranger. But it didn't feel that way. This was different. It was the way he fit against her, just perfectly. Bucky breathes out a shaky breath as he brings her closer. At that moment, he feels like he might pass out from such perfectness. He never knew such an innocent conversation and act could make him want to do so much- be with someone so much.

She feels her heart hammering so hard in her chest that there's a moment during the song where she's bringing her gloved hand from his shoulder and up to the side of his neck. She was caught up in the moment, things were happening on its own; she no longer had control.

His skin was perfect, she notes.

Bucky's eyes go wide at her move and he looks at down at her. She was touching his skin. He hoped that when he looked down she would be looking back with that same confident attitude she seems to posses. But she's not looking at him, she's staring up at the stars that were past the ceiling above them along with all the ten floors. She bluntly Ignoring his stare because she can't believe what is happening. Maybe there was an answer in the heavens.

He watches her intently, like a movie. If it was even possible, she was more beautiful this close. He can't look away and she feels his eyes on her. They were boring into her soul.

He wants to memorize this forever.

She closes her eyes slowly and takes a deep breath because she feels like she might cry. He does the same and brings her in a little closer. His one hand ghosted inches over the skin of her back where her dress dropped, not sure if it would be appropriate or not to touch her skin there. He settled for her clothed waist instead and this makes her smile.

A gentleman.

His head is still tilted down and she takes this opportunity and she leans the side of her head against his, smiling faintly.

He brings his face closer and looks down at her, their noses touching. She feels the side of his nose against hers and her eyes open. She's staring straight down at his bottom lip and she gulps.

This man was perfect, everything about this was.

The song is about to close to an end when he brings his hand down her arm and passed her soft skin. He takes her fleshed hand and slowly intertwines their fingers.

She gapes at this action, feeling his breath bounce off her face.

She looks up at him from clouded eyes, lust taking over immediately.

He answers lowly in a husky voice, "James."

It takes a moment for her to register that that is his name.

"James." She whispers like it's a prayer.

This story is dedicated to every girl out there who has ever gotten her heart broken in a way that she knew she could never repair herself from. This is for every girl who loved a guy who loved someone else more or first, or simply didn't love her back. This is for every girl who is tough, hard-headed, a badass, and strong, but at the end of the day a sweetheart who crumbles at the slightest pain because the reason she is so tough is because that's how she thinks she needs to be to survive. This story is for every girl who has loved a man, irregardless of anything else, and has cried herself to sleep because of it.

A personal event that happened in my life not too long ago is what inspired me to write this story. I wanted to voice out an emotion that only the young women who have been through the above things can understand. But most of all this is for the millennials (girls aged 22-35) who are different than any other age group of women. They are misunderstood, assumed, and misjudged. This is my take on when Bucky Barnes (a man in his mid 30s) falls for one. And not just that, but she is like us in more than one way.