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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alpha!Steve Rogers x omega!reader, alpha!Bucky Barnes x omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dubcon, noncon, graphic depictions of depression/suicidal thoughts/ideation/attempts, graphic thoughts of self-harm, mentions of blood, extreme angst, a/b/o dynamics, smut, bullying, misogyny, dark characters, men being assholes, 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve ruthlessly made you his, but what happens when your boyfriend Bucky finds out? (This is chapter 2, read chapter 1 here)

𝐀/𝐍: Here it is, the sequel to Drifting Further Away. Thank you all for being so patient with me. This is 21.5K words and I hope you enjoy. One last warning - this chapter is pretty graphic in terms of the angst. Please read the warnings above. And don't click read-more unless you've read them. Final warning. Apart from that, enjoy.

“Stop, Steve… please stop.”

But you don’t want him to stop. Not in the least. Not even a little bit. Not from the moment his teeth had sunk into your skin and the world had stopped moving. His heartbeat, in perfect sync with yours, is all you can hear. And all you can see is twin blue oceans, staring at you with such intensity, such darkness, such power.

Almost like you’re drowning in him, and yet it feels like you can breathe properly for the first time since… since ever.

“I love you,” Steve says quietly against your poor, broken skin. He licks and nips at the mark he’s made, kissing softly along it before his lips find yours again. “I love you more than anything else in the whole world.”

“No, no, please…” Oh, you sound so faint…

“Yes. And it’s just us now. Just me and you. But don’t worry, omega. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again. I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.”

He kisses you, clutching your face tightly in his hands. And oh, there it is again! That feeling that you’ve never ever felt before. Like a blast of sunshine transporting you back to a gorgeous summer day. Like the type of summer day you’d see in the movies, where the saturation’s amped up and everything’s golden and hazy like a dream. Where the sun warms your skin from the inside out, where the grass rustles against the gentle summer breeze. The type of summer day you’d snap a polaroid of and keep safe against your heart forever and ever.

How could Steve of all people make you feel like that?

And then the animal awakens. Like a rubber band inside you snaps and the dam breaks free. You feel your body buzzing – from the tips of your fingers straight down to your core. And the omega inside you takes over your brain, chanting over and over again: Steve. Alpha. Steve. Steve. Steve.

And so you don’t fight against it when he pulls you over the console and into his lap. You don’t complain when the steering wheel hits your back uncomfortably before he scoots his seat back, holding you snug against him. In fact, it’s the opposite. There’s a ferality to your every move, and you find yourself with a one-track mind as you clamber to rip his shirt off and touch his warm skin that feels like it’s buzzing too.

Must please alpha. Must have him. Need him. Nobody else. Just him. Just Steve.

There’s a tiny part of you – the sane part of you – that’s in shock. In mourning. In absolute dismay over what’s just happened. How Steve – your boyfriend’s best friend and the man who hated you – has just marked you without even asking, without even a warning! And Bucky… oh, how could you have done this to him? When all he’d ever been was good to you? When all he’d ever been was the perfect boyfriend?

But the feral omega inside you drowns all the other thoughts out. So freshly mated that all you can think about is Steve – touching him, pleasing him. Letting him fuck you. Like a plague in your mind, it’s all you can think about.

That’s why you don’t stop him when he rips your clothes off with the raw power of an incensed and freshly mated alpha. There’s fire in the oceans of his eyes now, determined and feral just like how you’re feeling. Underneath you, it feels like he’s humming and vibrating with anticipation, and you match him move for move. Like both of you are parched, you paw each other’s clothes off. And you’re naked before you even realise it.

Steve fucks you right there in the driver’s seat of his car, bouncing you on top of his dick while you clutch on to him tightly, whilst tears of relief, confusion, fear and heartbreak well in your eyes. It’s all a blur, a heated, passionate, incensed blur full of desperate rutting and even more desperate kisses.

And you’d never felt this way with James. That’s what breaks your heart the most.

“You’re perfect for me,” Steve breathes against your lips between kisses, all the while desperately pushing you up and down on his dick. And he’s so big, so fucking big that it hurts but it hurts so good. And you haven’t had sex in so long, not since Peter. You’d never done it with Bucky, and a fresh wave of guilt washes over you before the pure, animalistic lust for Steve pushes it aside once more.

“Steve,” you cry softly, “Please, please harder. Faster, please!”

You’ve never experienced sex like this. So raw, so desperate. With Peter it had been awkward but sweet – the first time for both of you and so there’d been a lot of fumbling and a few giggles. With Bucky, the furthest you’d gone was him fingering you and that had been good. It had been hot and he’d known exactly what to do to make you feel good. But this. Oh, this…

It’s insane how your body was reacting to Steve’s. Almost like you’d been parched your whole life and he’d not only quenched your thirst but also lit a fire in you straight from within. Each time his fat dick forced its way into your tight hole, you felt like heaven was exploding inside of you. Never before had you ever thought that sex could feel like this. And it’s with animalistic vigour that you grind down to meet his thrusts, letting him take control of you, contort you, use you, as he fucks you harder and harder.

You lose track of how many times you guys do it. Everything’s whirling up like a tornado, time’s running away from you. All you feel and see are sweaty limbs and heavy breathing, and a part of you feels like you could go on like this forever. He makes you cum so many times, and he himself spills his load so many times inside you. And yet he remains so hard, fucking you like he can’t ever stop, and you feel all faint and dizzy and yet the feral omega inside you still wants to please him, and your greedy pussy swallows his dick up again and again and that’s when you reach the insane realisation:

I want him to get me pregnant.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Steve whispers as he reaches down to rub your poor, raw clit while he fucks you. “I want it too. And I promise I’ll give you what you want. Soon.”

Your walls squeeze around him and you cum once more. And it’s so earth-shattering, despite the fact you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had. Your mind is frenzied with thoughts of carrying your alpha’s babies, letting him knock you up, pleasing him by giving him a family, then making him knock you up again, and –

It’s after hours that you two finally stop fucking. And slowly, the fog in your brain begins to lift. The feral omega inside you purrs, as if satiated if only for the time being. You move to get off Steve, but he growls, holding on to you tightly. He’s still got his dick lodged inside you, and you feel him half hard as if he’s still not done. But you whine, sore and sensitive, and so he begrudgingly lets you go, placing you back on the passenger seat.

It’s with trembling guilt that you put your clothes back on, the action sobering you up some as if you’d been wildly drunk just moments before. But it’s only when you reach up to gingerly touch the fresh bite mark on your neck, that your heart lurches and the stone-cold realisation sets in.

“What did you do…?” You utter slowly, dread seeping its way across your entire being.

Steve sighs, “Omega, look–”

“WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

The panic sets in pretty quickly after the dread. Your first instinct is to run, run, run as far away as you can. But two desperate tugs at the door handle confirm that the car is still locked. And that’s when your horror and anxiety maxes out to about a hundred.

“I–No, let me out! Let me out right now, I can’t breathe, I can’t– oh my God, WHAT DID YOU DO!? LET ME OUT!”

“Listen to me–”

“No, just let me out! I need to get out, I can’t breathe! Let me out, just let me–”

Steve presses his fingers against your mark, and you go lax. The feel of his warm skin against your throbbing mating gland does things to you that you’ve never felt before. A different type of calm washes over you, like the cloud of chaos that was making your chest tighten slowly dissipates – all because of his touch! Oh god, oh god, oh god, what had he done to you?!

“You’re okay.” Steve affirms, his tone steady and clear. “I marked you, omega. We’re bonded now and you’re my mate, that’s all. Don’t panic.”

THAT’S ALL!? DON’T PANIC!? You feel like your entire world has just flipped over your head. And it plays in your head once more, his unforgiving bite. How savagely he’d torn into your skin, left his mark and drew blood in the process. How he’d declared that you were his, how he was never going to let you go. And you remember how badly it had hurt, how scared you’d felt in those few moments before the animalistic, carnal lust had taken over.

With one single bite, he’d stripped away your autonomy. Violated you and stolen your independence, your body, your life.

You roll your window down, the sudden urge to throw up rocking you down to the core. Your body’s shaking from head to toe, and it’s like your mind still hadn’t completely caught all the way up to what’s just happened. Like a part of you is still in denial, unable to really see what’s just happened. What he’s just done to you.

“H-How could you do it?” Your voice comes out hoarse, quiet.

“I did what was inevitable. It was going to happen anyways, because of the way we feel about each other.”

He sounds so… normal. And that’s what scares you the most.

“The way we…? What are you talking about?” You moan softly, the panic still not subsiding. In fact, it’s swirling around your bloodstream along with the dread, mixing together to create the most disgusting self-loathing that you haven’t felt in forever.

“We’re in love.” Steve says confidently, “And it was only a matter of time before we got together naturally. I just sped up the process a little bit.”

It’s his matter-of-fact tone that gets you the most, and your head snaps in his direction, jaw dropping in pure shock over what he’s just said.

“Steve we… we’re not in love. I don’t love you.” You say slowly.

He blinks, “Yes, you do. Of course you do. You feel the same way about me as I feel about you. I felt it.”

“What are you saying–?”

“I felt it multiple times, omega. Like the night of our date, that moment we shared. Not to mention how you reacted to my gift.”

You think back to the cute little stuffed teddy with the shiny coal black eyes and blue bow tie that had shown up at your doorstep the night of your double date. How your heart had lifted instantly when you’d held it in your arms, when you’d cuddled it close and it felt like all the dark clouds had disappeared. Replaced by the intense feel and smell of a hot summer’s day, one that had calmed you from the inside out and lulled you into a perfect slumber where not one single nightmare had touched your mind…

“No, no, no…”

“Yes. You knew that bear was from me. I knew you felt troubled that night, and I knew it was because you were confused after you had that moment with me, after I saved you from that bowling ball. I believe that’s the night your realised Bucky could never give you what I can, and you’d never feel for him what you feel for me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Am I?” He grabs your wrist and tugs you closer, as if he can’t stand not touching you in some way or form, and the omega inside you purrs at the contact. But the rational part of your brain is horrified by your reaction, and by his next words: “Am I crazy, omega? Am I really? When you’re the one who wanted me to break up with Sharon! You’re the one who got angry every time you saw me with her!”

“Th-That’s not true!”

“It is!” Steve looks crazed, incensed, his blue eyes flashing as he leans forward over the console and the grip he has on your wrist tightens. “It is true, omega! Don’t try to deny how we feel for each other. You don’t think Bucky told me about all those times you’d come to him, all upset because you’d seen me kissing her, or touching her? It bothered you, just like how it bothered me to see you with Bucky.”

“No, Steve, that’s not true!” You shake your head desperately, trying to tug your hand out of his grip but to no avail. “I-I was upset because you treated Sharon horribly, and she deserved better, and I hated seeing you cheat on her!”

“No. You hated that I was still with her and not with you. And you can deny it all you want, but I’ll always know the truth when it comes to you. Because unlike Bucky, I actually know you, omega. I know you from the inside out because we’re meant to be together.”

Again, he kisses you. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why you just let him do it. Why your body shudders before melting into him, and why your shoulders sag in relief.

“Wh-What are we going to tell him?” You ask when the two of you break apart. “How could we possibly face him after this? He’ll be so hurt and mad, and rightfully so!”

“I’ll speak to him,” Steve straightens his sweater before placing his hand on your leg, like he can’t go a few seconds without touching you. Which is exactly how you feel too, no matter how hard you try to swallow it away. “I don’t want you worrying about that. And I also don’t want you speaking to him at all from now on, so just let me handle it.

Your jaw drops, “I’m not allowed to speak to him?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.”

“You’re insane if you think you can tell me who I can or can’t speak to.”

Steve has always intimidated you, but lately your confidence has grown. And yet, you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. Almost like every cell in your body is repulsed by the very idea of you talking to your alpha like that. But mentally, you’re at war with yourself – because he was well and truly acting insane right now! How could he possibly think he could tell you what to do? How could he possibly expect you not to explain things to Bucky after you’d essentially just cheated on him?!

“You won’t speak to Bucky,” Steve repeats, surprisingly unperturbed by your words. “The mark on your neck means that you’re mine, and marked omegas don’t go around talking to alphas who aren’t their mate. Besides, his reaction won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you anywhere near that.”

You sit back against your seat and try your hardest to block his words out. You don’t care what Steve says, you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care! It almost doesn’t register to you, when he refers to the mark on your neck. Oh, you haven’t even gotten a look at it yet and you never want to! It doesn’t feel real, being marked, being owned by someone. Especially someone like Steve Rogers. This was all one terrible, messed up mistake. It had to be!

And I’ll fix it, you decide once and for all as you put your seatbelt back on and Steve starts the car again. You’d explain everything to Bucky, and knowing him – he’d understand! He’d understand how you’d been trapped in Steve’s car, coerced by him, how you’d begged him to stop and he’d ignored you and bit you anyways. Oh, of course Bucky would understand! He was the most caring, thoughtful and calmest alpha you knew! He was your boyfriend, not Steve! NEVER STEVE!

Your mind works itself into overdrive, a million frenzied thoughts flurrying in and out of your head. You were sure there were some pills you could order that would dull the bond. You’d read about them in one of your biology textbooks back in high school. It wasn’t a complete solution but it was something, and perhaps with the effects of the bond dulled, you’d be able to think clearly, and form a better plan, and–

“I’m so happy we’re together now.” Steve interrupts your thoughts, one hand on the steering wheel as he drives back out towards the highway, his other hand still on your thigh, stroking softly and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I wanted you since the moment I saw you, the moment you walked in that first day and I could smell that fucking addictive scent of yours. I knew from that day that we were meant to be. Bucky couldn’t smell you, but I could. It’s like you were made for me, sent to that class especially for me.”

Your eyes widen at his delusions, and you gulp, too stunned to really say anything. Why was he acting like he didn’t hate your guts since the moment he’d seen you? Oh, he was well and truly insane!

So then why was there a part of you, deep down inside, that was glowing, almost purring at his words?

You keep your eyes glued out the window, deliberately turning away from him as much as you can. Once this car ride was over and you were at Bucky’s house, you’d never, ever be alone with Steve Rogers again. And you’d get yourself out of this mess. And Bucky would help you.

He would definitely help you, wouldn’t he?

***

“Why are we stopping here?”

Not twenty minutes later, Steve pulls into a parking lot of what looks to be a four-star hotel, and definitely not Bucky’s house.

“It’s late. We need to rest.”

Panic rises up to your chest, “N-No, we need to get to James’ house! We need to explain what happened, and– Oh, he’ll be waiting for us! We can’t make him wait a whole extra day!”

“Relax. I already texted him and told him we got stuck in traffic and decided to stay at a hotel for the night. We’ll see him tomorrow morning. Now come on.”

You stare at him as he gets out of the car and starts unloading your bag and his own. How could he possibly be so calm? It was almost eery. He’d betrayed his own best friend! His childhood best friend! Did that mean nothing to him?

“I-I should text him. Or call,” You get out of the car too, scrambling to get your phone out of your purse. In your frenzy, you’d completely forgotten you could do those things too.

“Omega, no.” Steve’s voice is stern and authoritative as he comes around the car and grabs your wrist. And oh, he’s so much bigger than you! And so frighteningly formidable that it makes you shrink back. His muscles bulge and you gulp, averting your gaze down to the ground, feeling an aura of authority around him that you hadn’t ever really felt before, and it makes the mark on your neck prickle. “You will not tell him what happened, not even over call or text. I’ve told him you’re already asleep. Now come on.”

It was crazy, how Steve thought he could make every single one of your decisions for you. What’s even crazier is when he grabs your hand and starts pulling you towards the hotel entrance.

“Please let go of my hand.”

He ignores you.

“Steve, please! We’re not a couple, I don’t want you to think that–”

“You’ve got my mark on your neck and I just fucked you multiple times in the front seat of my car. But you draw the line at holding my fucking hand?” His grip tightens.

“I draw the line at all of it!”

“Well, just give it a rest.”

The hotel room is big and spacious. But your heart sinks when you see there’s only one bed. Oh no, he didn’t expect for the two of you to share, did he?

“Go wash up and change and then get into bed,” Steve orders the moment the two of you step inside. “We’ll head out early tomorrow.”

“I-I can’t share a bed with you!”

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he drops the bags on the floor. “I don’t fucking care what you can or can’t do, omega. Now go wash up and change.”

Your heart starts pitter-pattering like crazy in your chest. You eye your duffel bag, knowing full well that you can’t wear your pyjama shorts in front of Steve, not when he’s already looking at you with those dark, blown out blue eyes.

And what about yourself? Could you even trust yourself being in such close vicinity to him all night? You’d so easily spread your legs for him once he’d marked you, but you couldn’t let it happen again. No. Not ever again.

Ten minutes later, you timidly emerge from the bathroom wearing your baggiest hoodie and a pair of loose jeans. Not the most comfortable sleeping attire by any means, but there was no way you were going to bare your skin in front of Steve Rogers again.

No matter how much the mark on your neck prickled or the omega inside you screeched at you to do the exact opposite.

Steve frowns, “I thought I told you to change.”

“I have changed. This is what I always sleep in.”

“No, it’s definitely not.”

“Yes, it is! I swear!”

“You’re cute when you lie, omega.” He collapses down on one of the armchairs adjacent to the bed, looking nonchalant as he texts someone on his phone. “But I know what you sleep in, and it’s not that.”

It’s your turn to frown, “How do you–?”

There’s a pause, and then he throws his phone aside before looking up at you with dark eyes, “You would never draw your curtains.”

“Huh?”

He smirks, leaning forward with a wolfish look, “You heard me. You’d never draw your curtains when you changed.”

Your jaw drops at what he’s insinuating, “Steve! Th-That’s so wrong, how could you–”

“I’d watch you slip on the sexiest little shorts that made your ass look insane,” he sits up straighter, licking his lips and running his hand through his hair. “And I could see every fucking thing those goddamned hoodies hid from me during the day. Who knew you were hiding all that.”

Suddenly, the air around you feels thick and hot. You instinctively take a step back at the same moment Steve stands up and takes a step towards you.

“And then I’d go home and think of your hot little body while I jacked off.” He takes another step forward, “And I’d think of you while I fucked my girlfriend. Think of the sexy little private show you put on for me every night I watched you. Almost like you knew I was watching, and you were doing it just for me. Because God knows you never let Bucky see you like that.”

You swallow, taking another step back, “You’re scaring me, Steve…”

“Good. It’s hot when you’re scared.”

Another step back, and now the backs of your knees are touching the bed. “Y-You should stay over there, please, and I’ll stay over here.”

Steve chuckles lowly, “Now why would I do that?”

He lunges at you. You scream, try to run but he’s too big to dodge. Easily, he grabs you and pushes you down on the bed. You land on your back, and he’s on top of you instantly, his hard crotch pressing obscenely against your core.

“Let me fuck you again,” he whispers beguilingly against the mark on your neck, and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you feel his teeth graze against it. “You know you want it as bad as I do.”

“W-We can’t,” you swallow thickly, suppressing the urge to thrust back up against his hard, covered cock. The omega inside you is practically screaming at the proximity, begging you to rip his clothes off and spread your legs for him again just like you did in the car. But the rational part of your brain cuts through all the noise, “Steve, please, we can’t do this. It’s not right. Bucky–”

Steve presses his forehead against yours, his hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them on either side of you. “It’s okay, we’ve already fucked so it’s not a big deal if we do it again. He’ll understand…”

“No, he won’t,” you moan, unable to stop yourself. Weakly, your legs kick against him in a bid to get him off of you but it’s almost like your body’s given up before even trying. Like every cell in your body is just screaming at you to just give in. “I-I can’t hurt him like this, Steve. We can’t do this.”

“Just let me put the tip in,” Steve breathes, his chest pressed so hard against yours, you can feel his heartbeat in sync with your own. “Just the tip, baby. It’ll calm me down and then we can just go to sleep.”

“Noooo,”

“Shhh, yes. Just say yes,” he urges, thrusting his clothed cock against you and oh fuck, he’s so hard. “Just the tip, I promise. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Your mind is screaming at you to let him do it, let him fill you up because you’re just an omega and you need your alpha to fill you up because that’s what you were made for, wasn’t it? This is what your purpose was, to fulfil your alpha’s desires and this is what he wanted and you wanted it too! You wanted it so fucking bad, like your whole soul was itching for it.

“J-Just the tip? You promise?” Your brain feels fried with lust and desire, and not a single rational thought.

“I promise, sweetheart. Just the tip. Don’t you trust me?”

It’s past midnight before the two of you finally stop fucking and fall asleep. Overcome with carnal desire, you let Steve take you so many times, you lose count. And he’s so much bigger than you, overpowering your pleas which grow weaker as your lust grows stronger and stronger. And you feel like you’re drowning in a haze of sunshine, like you can’t breathe but in the best way possible. Like you can’t think but it’s alright because you don’t need to think. It’s like your mind and soul leave your body altogether, and the only thing that’s left is the purring omega inside you, the one that’s crying with joy because your alpha is inside you, filling you up again and again as if he can’t stop. Because he doesn’t want to stop. And neither do you.

You were well and truly fucked.

***

The morning is sombre and grey - both the weather and your mood. Mind now somewhat clearer, you refuse to even look at Steve, let alone speak to him. You can hardly look at yourself either, not after what you’d done yesterday. Because it was plain as day - you had cheated on your boyfriend. Multiple times.

But it wasn’t your fault! The rational part of your mind screams, Steve forced you!

And the proof is right there in the mark on your neck. The mark you refuse to look at or even acknowledge. All you do want to acknowledge right now is that you need to get far, far away from Steve, so you can think clearly enough to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

Luckily, Steve is in no mood to talk either, and the two of you silently set off. You wonder to yourself whether he finally feels the guilt too. The same guilt for betraying Bucky that’s been eating you from the inside out. And your stomach churns at the thought of finally facing him.

He’s standing in his driveway when Steve finally pulls up. Looking so devastatingly handsome, a smile lighting up his face when he catches your eye. You sit in the front seat of Steve’s care, shaking with nervous anticipation and dread, fingers itching to take the seatbelt off and jump out of the car as soon as Steve parks it.

“You stay in the car,” Steve murmurs, “Let me talk to him first.”

It takes everything in you not to obey him, and so when he finally does stop the car, you jump out before he can stop you. Before the chemistry of your own body cells can stop you. And you run up to Bucky, feeling like the worst person alive when you see his smiling face.

“There you are, princess,” Bucky laughs, catching you in a tight hug, “I thought you guys would never make it.”

You shiver in his arms, burying your face in his chest, digging your nose around as if to smell his familiar wintery, woody scent. But all you can smell is the hot summer’s day that sticks to your skin, and you savour your boyfriend’s embrace, but it does nothing to calm your beating heart.

“What’s wrong? Are you cold? Why are you shivering?” He cups your face in his hands, and you look up at him with eyes already wet, lips downturned and wondering if he can see the ugly betrayal on your face.

There’s a shuffling somewhere behind you, and Steve clears his throat, “Bucky. We need to talk.”

Bucky doesn’t look at him. No, his gaze is fixed on you. Light, pretty blue eyes blink as they drink in your drained, tired face. Take in how your lower lip quivers, the shame painted so plain as day on your features.

His nostrils twitch, his body going rigid against yours.

“James,” you whisper, “I’m so sorry, I–”

“Why? Why would you be sorry?” The smile is frozen on his face, and there’s curiosity mixed with something else in his eyes. Like dread for what you might say next.

All morning, you’d played this moment again and again in your head. Gone through millions of different scenarios, practiced a thousand different explanations. But there was no way to spin the truth in a way that wouldn’t hurt him. And it’s like everything you’d thought you’d say in this moment goes flying out the window, and you feel your throat close up, and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Sweetheart? I asked you a question.” Bucky’s grip on you is firm. It doesn’t hurt, but it does keep you planted to reality, and you know you need to start talking now, and explain everything. And tell him that you didn’t mean it, that you didn’t want to be bonded to Steve! That you wanted James and no one else. And that this didn’t mean anything, and…

“Let her go. I’ll explain everything.” Steve comes up beside you, and you wish you didn’t feel the comfort that comes in waves the moment you feel his presence next to you. Like a warm ray of sunshine on a cold, bleak day.

And yet, Bucky still doesn’t look at Steve. Only you. And the look on his face in that moment is one you don’t think you’ll ever forget. It’s like his features turn ghost-like in a handful of long, painful seconds. His eyes narrow down to slits, the sparkle snuffed away like a candle. He pales, taking the sharpest intake of breath, he takes a step back as realisation dawns slowly on his face.

“You didn’t…”

“I’m so sorry, James,” again, you try to find your voice, try to launch into the explanation that’s stuck inside your goddamned throat. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen, I–”

Bucky’s movements are like a whip, and in a flash, he reaches out and moves your hair aside. And there it is, plain as day. The big, jagged mark on your neck, the one that you’d tried so desperately to ignore and forget. The one that belonged to Steve.

The whole world stands still. And you see it all flash across Bucky’s face. Disbelief, hurt, pain, betrayal. He reaches out as if to touch you, but his hand turns into a fist instead. In slow motion, he looks from you to Steve then back at you.

That’s when Steve steps in front of you, “Leave her out of this. We can discuss it without involving her.”

CRACK.

It’s sickening, the sound you hear. Steve falls to the ground with a thud, the force of Bucky’s fist laying into his face so hard that it knocks him off his feet. And Bucky looks livid, standing above him with a look of such reverence on his face, it chills you down to the bone. And then he looks at you, and his eye twitches. You flinch – he’s never look at you like that before. With such hatred and disbelief.

“OK, fine, I deserved that,” Steve staggers to his feet, wiping his jaw. You gape – Bucky’s got him cleanly on the side of his face. The black eye already forming, and there’s blood everywhere. “But if you just let me–”

Bucky disregards him, instead making a beeline towards you. Your eyes widen when he grabs your shoulders, his eyes wild with angry hurt, “How the fuck could you? How could you just…”

He’s thrown off you before you can even form an answer.

“Don’t touch her. I told you; we should discuss this. In private.”

“Don’t touch…? She’s my girlfriend, you fucking son of a bitch!” It’s almost like Bucky still doesn’t believe it, and again he looks at you with such an unreadable expression you don’t know what to even think! And your throat’s chosen the worst moment to close up, and you watch him helplessly, wishing you weren’t like this. Wishing you could just explain it all calmly and clearly like how you’d practiced in your head.

“Tell me you didn’t fucking do this,” Bucky lowers his tone, speaking only to you as if Steve just isn’t there anymore. “Tell me you didn’t go behind my back with my best fucking friend.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” You burst out, “I didn’t want this, James! Please believe me–”

“How long has this been going on?” He looks… disgusted. Still in disbelief. Oh, didn’t he believe you?!

“It hasn’t! I want you, not him. I don’t want this, I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t–”

“THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LET HIM MARK YOU?” Bucky explodes, and the hurt is so evident in the way his voice breaks slightly at the end, “How could you…”

You swallow and step forward, trying to grab his hand but he shrugs you off coldly, “I didn’t want him to–”

“Bucky, it’s done now. It’s happened, and we can talk about it when you’re in the proper state to talk, but–”

CRACK.

He punches Steve again. This time, Steve spits out blood, the entire left side of his face swelling up. Your hands go up to your face in horror.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he whispers, his gaze solely locked on you, as if Steve doesn’t exist and it’s just you and James in a whirlwind of betrayal that you had created.

“Please believe me,” you plead. Oh, he had to! Your bond with Bucky was stronger than anything Steve had done to you. You knew it! Oh, he had to believe you! “Let me explain, James. It’s me, OK? I’m still the same person; I’m still your girlfriend. I just–”

“Save it.” His face hardens, and then he’s no longer looking at you. No, it’s like you’ve disappeared, like you’re not even there anymore. Like he’s just looking through you. He swallows, running a hand through his hair, “I can’t… I can’t fucking be here right now.”

“James–”

You try to grab his hand again, but he shoves you. Hard. The force of it has you falling back, and Steve is the one who catches you before you can hit the ground. And you start crying in earnest, calling out his name over and over again as he walks away. You try to run after him, but Steve’s got a death grip on you despite how much you struggle against him.

Bucky ignores your cries, and in a determined daze he makes a beeline for his car. And Steve just lets him go, and you scream for him to stop, to just hear you out, to let you explain. But it’s like he can no longer hear you, or hear anyone for that matter. He’s got a glazed over look on his face, like he can’t quite believe what’s just happened.

He drives off, and you cry till your voice is hoarse and your throat hurts so bad. And everything hurts, you hurt from the inside out. Like you’ve just lost something that you can never ever get back no matter how hard you’d tried to persuade yourself that you could fix things.

Oh, this couldn’t be how things ended!

In the end, Steve has to carry you inside. It’s all a blur of salty tears, but he takes you into his own house across the street from Bucky’s. And it’s huge, but you take none of it in. You feel like a baby, a helpless and stupid baby. Pathetic. A cheater. Oh, the hurt in Bucky’s eyes! You don’t think you’ll ever forget it.

“It’s okay, omega,” Steve presses a kiss to your forehead, holding you close to his chest, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You hate how right the reassurance feels. Especially coming from the completely wrong person.

***

Steve’s home is like a castle. At least in your naïve eyes. A big, empty, sprawling castle with acres and acres of land around it. It may as well have had a moat too, with how big it is. All the houses in the area are massive. But you still haven’t registered it or really taken it in or properly observed your surroundings, despite spending the night in his bed again.

“My parents are away,” he says, sitting on his desk chair all nonchalantly as if the two of you hadn’t just collectively betrayed his best friend yesterday. His best friend who still hadn’t returned, because his car was missing from his driveway. You knew because you’d keep looking out the window to check. “They’re busy, but once they’re home, I’d love for you to meet them. They’d like you, especially my mother.”

“When do you think he’ll be back?” You ask distractedly.

“I just told you, they’re busy so I don’t know. My mom is… Well, she’s…”

“I mean Bucky,” you interrupt, taking another glance out the window. Still no car. “He’s been gone since yesterday; he won’t answer his phone. I hope he’s OK…”

“Could you stop?” Steve looks irritated, “He’s not your concern anymore, omega.”

You lock eyes with him incredulously, “How could you care so little? Did you see how hurt he looked? I need to explain everything to him, I just –”

“You don’t need to do shit. I don’t know how many times I need to say this to you, but he’s not your boyfriend anymore. I am. He’s just someone from your past. And that’s why I didn’t want you out there yesterday. I knew it’d get physical, and that’s how it is with us alphas. We work it out our own way.”

“I’m his girlfriend and I betrayed him–”

In a flash, he’s on his feet. He crosses the room in a second, grabbing you by the chin so you look straight at him, “Don’t fucking say that again if you know what’s good for you.”

Oh, how could you ever begin to understand Steve?! Steve and his one thousand different moods which he seemed to keep switching in between? From horrible to nice to protective to scary and threatening all over again? Which one was truly him? What were you supposed to believe?!

He sighs, his grip loosening some, “Fuck, I’m sorry. Look, I’m not stupid, OK? I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, marking you like that. I know I’ve put you in a terrible position, but I’m trying to protect you when I tell you to just stay out of it and stay away from him from now on. I know him, I know he’ll be fine.”

“Would you be fine?” You whisper, heart thudding because his mood swings scare you, “Would you be fine if your best friend marked your girlfriend behind your back?”

“If I was in love with my girlfriend, I would have marked her up the moment I knew she was the one,” Steve says without missing a beat, “That’s the part you’re refusing to understand. You seem to think he’s the one and if it weren’t for me, you’d have had your happily ever after with him. Ignoring the fact that he didn’t make you happy, and eventually both of you would’ve realised that and gone your separate ways.”

“Stop acting like you knew what we had between us!”

“Don’t fucking raise your voice at me. And I do know what you had with him. Or the lack of what you had with him. I know it doesn’t hold a candle to what you have with me.”

He kisses you, and no matter how hard you pound at his chest, how desperately you try to push him away, you end up in his arms anyways. His scent too alluring, too addicting. His lips even more so. Like two puzzles pieces, you slot together so perfectly it’s almost like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you. Because Steve couldn’t be your soulmate, he just couldn’t!

And yet… And yet your hands go to cup his face to deepen the kiss, and he winces. You pull back, biting your lip at his swollen jaw and black eye.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he answers your silent question, shooting you a wink and a lop-sided smile, “And I’d happily take a hundred more punches in the face for you, baby. That’s how you know I love you.”

Why does it make your heart skip a beat and butterflies crowd in your stomach when he says that? Why does it make you feel all warm inside, like you want to giggle and kick your feet? Why were you designed like this? Why did he make you feel like this? When nobody else ever had…

He kisses you some more, and your heart’s breaking and you’re so fucking confused but you let him. You want him to, and that’s what disgusts you the most. The omega inside you is purring, basking in the sunlight of his glow, never wanting him to stop.

But his phone rings and he pulls away, a frown etching his features when he sees who it is.

“What do you mean – is she okay?” He goes to the other side of the room and turns his back. You can still hear him, but the lack of his scent immediately around you makes your head clear a bit, and you look out the window again. Still no sign of Bucky.

Steve clears his throat, “Just… Okay, I’ll be there, I just need to– I’ll be there, okay?! Goodbye.”

He turns back to face you and sighs, “I have to go.”

You rip your gaze away from the window, “What?”

“I need to… My mom– Uh, something came up so I need to go deal with it.” He runs a hand through his hair, “You need to stay put here. There’s a library, a pool, a cinema. The chef’s made food and he can bring it to you whenever you want it. Just don’t… Just don’t leave the house, okay?”

You frown, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Or it will be.” He hugs you suddenly, hugs you so hard that you’re taken aback and can barely breathe. “Omega. Please don’t leave the house. I’ll be back soon, okay baby?”

“Okay,” you say automatically, because he’s your alpha and you’re supposed to agree with whatever he says and listen to him.

He leaves, and then you’re alone with your thoughts. And once more, the cloud of haze clears once he’s not in your presence. Oh, the effect he had on you was insane! He made you feel like, like… Oh, like nothing you’d ever felt before and you hated it!

Didn’t you?

***

You don’t know how long you sit there. By Steve’s bedroom window, staring listlessly at the rich suburbia outside. Nothing about your situation seems real at all, and yet you keep catching glimpses of Steve’s mark on your neck every time you look at his bedroom mirror. It makes your mind bubble with panic each time. Oh God, what could you do?!

In a frenzy, you turn to your phone. You know there are some special pills you can take, you’d heard of other omegas taking them. They help to dull unwanted bonds. After some desperately intense googling, you find some for purchase on a random website. They’d have to do, and so you order them to your dorm address hastily, without a second though

And it makes you feel slightly better, as if you’ve finally taken a little bit of control of your situation. A tiny bit of hope that lightens your otherwise bleak reality.

That’s when you see it. Or him. His car pulling into the driveway. James.

You remember Steve’s words. Don’t leave the house.

But Steve wasn’t here right now, and therefore his words don’t have that much of an effect on you. It still feels wrong, leaving the room and quietly darting down the grand staircase, despite no one being at home except you. You let yourself out, running across the street without even looking both ways.

“James! James, wait!”

He turns around at the sound of his name. And it’s crazy how different he looks in just twenty-four hours. Scruffy, gaunt, empty. He watches as you run over to him, his hands remaining by his side. Looking at you almost as if you were a stranger, and not his girlfriend.

Promptly, he turns his back on you, hurrying towards his front door. You catch up to him, grabbing his arm except he coldly shrugs you off.

“James, please, just give me a chance to explain.”

“There’s nothing left to explain so don’t bother.”

You bite your lip at how cold he sounds, and yet continue following him up his front steps. “Yes there is. I need you to understand that I didn’t want this, OK? I don’t want to be with Steve, and I didn’t want this mark.”

He stops, hand hovering over the doorhandle.

“I don’t want him,” you repeat, despite the omega stirring inside you, yelling in your head that you’re lying, lying, lying!

He sighs, unlocking the door and twisting it open, but now he turns to look at you. “I don’t know why I don’t believe you.”

“It’s you I want,” you say, hoping you sound confident, assured, like you know exactly what you’re saying without a single doubt in your mind. “Not Steve, okay? You.”

Bucky’s dark eyes flash with a semblance of… something. But his jaw remains clenched, his lips pressed together in a thin line. His gaze flits over to Steve’s mark on your neck, and oh how you wish it wasn’t there! How you wish it would just disappear, and take away all your confused, muddled emotions along with it!

“Why did you let him mark you?” His voice is hoarse, raspy almost. Like there’s so much bottled up hurt and anger inside him, and he’s not sure how to let it out. But all you want is for him to believe you.

Or is that just you wanting to believe yourself?

“I didn’t get a choice,” your voice catches, and you step forward. You don’t expect it, but he moves aside, allows you into his home before following you. The temperature’s dropping outside as dark clouds begin to form, and you welcome the warmth of his foyer as he mechanically shuts the door behind you. You take it as your chance to continue: “James, he didn’t give me a choice. You have to believe that, okay? He didn’t ask me if I wanted him to mark me, he just did it. And I… I didn’t want to, okay? He…He just did it… He just, he just…”

Your voice breaks in earnest as you stutter over your words, thinking back to the pain you’d felt when Steve had bit you. How callously he’d made that life decision for you both, without even asking you, without even informing you, without even a single warning.

There’s something else you feel, something deep in the recesses of your mind. Almost a sense of shame, a sense that you’re betraying him, betraying Steve by speaking against him to another alpha. Like a nagging feeling that tugs at your heart, that warns you to stop. That makes you feel unnatural for going against all of Steve’s orders, for being here right now, for retelling the story of how it happened.

Because you’d let him fuck you right after that, hadn’t you? Over and over and over again?

“He just did it,” you repeat, shame numbing you from the inside out. “He just did it. He just, he just…”

Bucky draws you into his arms. It’s hesitant at first, and his nose twitches as if trying to resist the scent of another alpha – his best friend – which is stuck to you like a second layer of skin. But he pulls you into an embrace anyways, and your whole body shudders in relief, and you break down, sobbing against his chest for everything you’d lost yesterday. Yourself. Your body. Your shame. Him.

“I’m sorry,” you want to hide your face in his chest forever, like the shame is too much, almost swallowing you up whole, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Flashes in your mind, going back to it all. That feeling after Steve had bit you, that feeling of utter relief when he’d kissed you, that feeling you’d never felt before. Like you’d been incomplete all your life but suddenly you weren’t anymore. What about all that? Shouldn’t you come clean about all that too?

No, that wasn’t me! Your mind screams desperately, so loud it makes your head hurt. That wasn’t me! That was his mark on my neck, his scent all around me, confusing me! Making me think things I should never think! Making me feel things I don’t actually feel! No, I couldn’t feel those things, I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t!

“It’s me that you want?” Bucky asks, slowly drawing back and cupping your face in his hands. And you find that you can barely smell him at all. That smell of powdery winter snow, of smoky firewood on a cold winter morning. It feels like a distant memory because you can hardly smell it now, no matter how hard you try.

You nod desperately, “Yes, yes, it’s you! James, you’re the one I always wanted. You’re the one I fell for. You were nice to me when he was only ever mean and awful. And I wish so bad that we could just go back to how we were before he… before he just… he…”

Do you ever get that yearning feeling? Steve’s voice forces its way inside your head once more, do you ever get that feeling? Of wanting something so bad but you can’t seem to figure out what it is?

No! You hug Bucky harder, wanting to erase the memory of Steve from your mind. And more importantly, erase anything you may have felt when under the influence of his darned scent and his mark on your neck. Like how you’d felt when he’d kissed you…

“I want you, James,” you repeat, as if you’re trying to persuade yourself as much as you’re trying to persuade him. “I… I don’t want him. He didn’t give me a choice. If he had, I would’ve picked you.”

He takes your trembling hands in his, and his blue eyes bore into yours. As if trying to detect even a sliver of dishonesty. But you look back at him squarely, heart beating like crazy and dangerous feelings, distressed emotions bubbling inside you. Oh, you’re confused, you’re so confused! You feel like you’re betraying Steve, yet at the same time you have betrayed Bucky. But it was Bucky who you wanted in the first place, right? You’d been happy with him, hadn’t you? Nothing Steve had done could ever change that! Right?

“Prove it,” Bucky’s blue eyes are dark with a new kind of intensity you’ve never seen before. He presses his forehead against yours, “Prove that it’s me you want. That he means nothing to you.”

You nod, “It is you, James. I’ll do anything to get you to believe me. Anything, I’ll–”

He kisses you. And oh, it feels wrong! It feels so wrong but you cling to it, cling to him. Willing the universe to just give you a break, to just let you have this. Let it feel right for his sake if not your own, because you just want him to stop hurting. You’d do anything to stop him from hurting.

You kiss him back fervently, passionately. You put everything into it, carding your fingers through his hair. He kisses you fiercely, desperately, like you’ll turn to dust in his arms if he doesn’t. And all the while, the shame monster in your heart grows bigger, mocking you for not feeling like how it felt with Steve, how it felt like the whole world had stopped and he’d scorched your whole being from the inside out in the best way possible.

Bucky picks you up easily, his lips not leaving yours. Your heart lurches as you feel him moving, but you keep kissing him. Up the stairs he takes you, and a feeling of dread pools in your stomach, his words echoing in your head: Prove it.

Into his bedroom now, and his scent faintly tingles your nostrils. It’s still so faint, as compared to the hot summer’s day that’s stuck to your skin. He drops you on his bed, his huge frame covering yours like a dark shadow. He presses his front against yours, and you know what he wants. Prove it, prove it, prove it.

“You’ll do anything won’t you?” He murmurs between kisses, his lips moving down your cheek, your neck, your collarbones. Thumbs hooking the waistband of your leggings. “To prove that it’s me and not him?”

You nod, desperation making you surge up into his kiss, letting his hands roam your body, trying to ignore how freezing cold he feels.

Bucky pulls back, a peculiar look in his eyes. Almost like he’s trying to read you. And then he slowly slips your leggings down but looks at you before he does. “You’ll prove it to me?”

Prove it, prove it, prove it. You could do this. You were choosing to do this. It would show him, show yourself, that Bucky was the one for you. That Steve’s mark didn’t mean anything when it truly came down to it.

You take a deep breath and nod. A smile touches his lips, and he kisses you again, gentler this time. You scrunch your eyes shut so hard it hurts, try to imagine a princess finally reunited with her prince charming after he saved her from the beast who’d taken her when she didn’t want to be taken. This was how it was supposed to be, right? Right? Back in the arms of the man you were supposed to be with?

“I wanted this so bad,” Bucky murmurs, caressing the skin of your bare legs as your leggings pool by your ankles. “I thought it was over, you and me… I thought I’d lost you.”

“No, never,” you cup his face, “Never, James… You’ll always have me.”

Your chest hurts, feels heavy. Like there’s a pool of dread inside that’s getting bigger and bigger, threatening to burst. You will it away, fight against it, but you can feel the stinging in your eyes, the wobble of your lips, your mind screaming: no, please don’t… please stop…

It’s okay, you can get through this, you coach yourself. It’ll make him happy, and he deserves to be happy. And it’ll make you happy too, because this is what you’re supposed to want.

“You’ll prove it to me, won’t you?” He repeats against your lips, “Prove that you don’t feel anything for him? Just me?”

There’s a lump in your throat which you ignore, nodding, “O-Okay, James.”

It’s all a big blur as he shoves his jeans off, and you try to focus only on his face. His eyes look dark, far away. There’s none of that familiarity you once knew, that you’d seen just a few days ago. Now, he looks determined, forlorn, but apart from that you can’t read him at all.

You press your lips together and clutch his shoulders tightly as he enters you. Kissing him harder to ease yourself through the feeling of dread. The feeling that you’re doing something so wrong. The feeling that you don’t want this at all. The feeling that the more he presses into you, the more you feel like you’re floating. Like you’re out of your body. Like you don’t know what’s happening anymore. Like you’re losing yourself.

It's a peculiar feeling. Almost like homesickness. But for a person rather than a place. Like your whole world had turned upside down in the past twenty-four hours and the man who’d stolen your life with a single bite to your neck was the one you were yearning for. Like he was your home. And you needed him so bad, you feel sick.

You don’t know when the tears start welling up in your eyes, or when you first feel the streams of salty wetness on your cheeks. But you try to swallow it up, breathe, hold it back. THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO WANT! Your mind screams. Please, please, please just get through it. Get through it for James. He needs this. He’s your boyfriend and he needs this.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, and it’s a pet name he’s called you a thousand times and yet it sounds so alien in this moment. So alien that you let out a soft sob. But you swallow before another one can escape. No, pull it together. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

His hair brushes against your forehead, and you focus hard on the brunette strand, so hard it blurs. Or was that just your tears? And then he pushes into you harder, and you feel like running, running, running away!

Another sob. And then in a choked whisper:

“Stop, please.”

But it’s drowned out by his soft grunts and kisses, and the unmistakable sound of sex. The headboard thuds dully against the wall. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Your chest heaves up and down in panic. The clock on the wall ticks steadily. One tick. Two ticks. Three, four, five, six, seven…

A wracked sob leaves your throat before you can stop it. Then another one, and another. And then the tears start flowing, and you’re crying in earnest. Sobbing like you’ve lost everything, like you’ve lost yourself, your identity, everything you ever knew about yourself and what you wanted. You cry and cry and cry underneath him, and the bubble of panic in your chest explodes.

“Are you crying?” Bucky stills, his blue eyes incredulous.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I…I just… I’m sorry, I’ll try, I’ll…”But you can barely get your words out, and you’re crying so hard that he sits up, shocked and aghast.

“Is the thought of having sex with me really that disgusting?”

“No!” You try to grab his hand but he snatches it away as if you’re diseased. And you feel like you’re on a foreign planet, lost and alone and confused and so fucking sad that you can’t think straight. And you don’t know what the right thing to do is. You take a deep breath, “James, please, I’ll try. I’m sorry, please, let’s just try again…”

You try to grab his hand again, try to pull him back. But at the same time, the panic bubble in your chest explodes at the thought of having him, anyone, inside you again at this moment. And you’re crying again, and you can’t breathe, and it’s like the walls are closing in on you.

And Bucky just watches, his face set in stone. Watches you cry on his bed, naked and vulnerable and feeling like a stranger in your own skin. A stranger with a mark on your neck that’s damned you for all eternity. And he feels like a stranger too. A stranger who just watches you.

Until he doesn’t.

“Get up.”

In a blur, he’s off the bed. Putting his clothes on before throwing yours at you. Hard.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said get the fuck up.”

His words pierce through you like a sword. “J-James, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, OK? Please, let’s try again. I promise I’ll be better, I promise I won’t cry, I–”

“GET. UP.”

He yanks you up by your arm so hard it hurts. And his eyes look grey and stormy, like you’ve never seen them before. He looks far away and hurt and disgusted, and it’s all because of you.

“James, please, I swear I won’t cry, I’m so sorry that I did. I just felt overwhelmed, and I’m sorry – please let’s try again. I want this, I promise I want this!”

“You think I’m some sort of charity case that you have to fuck in order to make yourself feel better?” He sneers, and in that moment, you don’t know who it is that’s spoken because how could this possibly be James?

“Get the fuck up and get out.”

“No! James, please listen – I want to try again, okay? I’ll do better, I want this to work, I want us –”

“–You want him.”

“No!”

“Did you let him fuck you?”

It comes out of nowhere, the hostile question. The look of pure reverence. And then there’s pin drop silence. Several beats of it. Your heart’s racing. You want to gulp for air but you can’t. Feels like you’re drowning and there’s no escape.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the look on his face as realisation dawns.

“You’re a fucking stranger,” he spits out, and it’s accusatory yet at the same time void of any emotion. Like your silence has sucked it all out of him and there’s nothing left. Your boyfriend’s gone. Like the wind. Like he never was. “Get out.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happ–”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU FUCKING WHORE!”

His booming voice is like a whip cracking across your face. He could have physically slapped you and it would have hurt less. It’s all slipping away now. The golden memories in your head. Him asking you out, all the dates, all the kisses. His crinkling smile, his reassurances, his affirmations, his patience. Slipping through your fingers. Going, going, gone.

It’s like a nightmare sequence after that. You’re half naked as he roughly yanks you to your feet. You beg, cry, beg some more but he’s a statue. A statue made up of pure hatred. Nobody’s ever hated you like this. Except for your father who had left you, but you never let yourself think about that.

You’ve barely pulled your leggings up before he’s shoving you out of his room. And you sputter, cry, beg, you do everything. It’s not even that you don’t want him to hate you. Oh, you deserve to be hated! You deserve it all! You just don’t want him to hurt. And you can’t fathom how it’s come to this, when just yesterday morning everything was perfect.

Oh, you hate Steve! You hate him, hate him, hate him!

“James, please listen–”

He’s a robot. Doesn’t even look at you. And you’ve never felt the roughness as you do now, never felt it as he shoves you out the door. On the landing now, and he’s pushing you down the stairs. And still you fight against it, and it’s like you’re fighting against your goddamned fate because this can’t be how yours and Bucky’s story ends! It just couldn’t.

“I won’t speak to him again, I promise–” You babble, hoping he’ll listen, or even just look at you, “I-I’ve ordered these pills I found online, they’re supposed to dull the bond. And I’ll stay away from him, I promise I won’t even look at him. I want to fix this, James, please don’t shut me out. Please!”

Down the stairs, past the foyer. He’s determined to get you out of the house. You’re begging, pleading, saying anything you think might reassure him. And yourself. But Bucky looks like he’s long gone. Like all the feelings he may have once felt for you have been snuffed out. Gone. Gone like the wind.

“I’m a fucking fool for trusting you, for thinking you were different,” he mutters, looking straight ahead as he pushes you toward the front door. “You’re nothing more than a trashy omega slut.”

Another harsh slap to the face, and the tears stream down your cheeks. Tears of hurt, betrayal, anger at yourself, sadness, confusion – all of it! Just a huge muddle that you couldn’t make sense of and you hated yourself for it!

“I’m not! Please let me explain–”

“Get fucked,” he sneers, and you can’t find the old James anywhere on his face, and it’s the last thing you see before he forcefully pushes you out the door. “It’s what you’re best at doing anyways.”

The door slams in your face with a finality you’ve never quite felt before. But you don’t have time to ponder over it, because the frigid cold of the outside hits you like a freight train. Freezing splashes of rain descend down from the skies as if to mock you, punish you, let you know that this was what you deserved.

“James! Please let me back in!” You pound on the door, but the rain is so loud, you doubt he could ever hear you.

And would he even care if he could?

“I promise I won’t speak to him again,” you sound broken, beaten down, yet still hanging on to that tiny thread of hope that the old James would come back, open the door and take you in his arms and promise you that he understands, that he always understands, “I won’t speak to him again, James! I want to be with you – please open the door! Please!”

You feel parts of yourself breaking off, withering away as you beg and plead and pound on the unforgiving door that wouldn’t open no matter how much hope you put in him. Losing yourself, bit by bit. Parts of you that you thought you knew, falling off like apples from a tree. Till you feel like a ghost floating outside of the body of a stranger.

Who even were you anymore? When all he saw was the mark on your neck?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to the wood, pressing your cold cheek against it, “I’m sorry for all of it.”

Lightning strikes overhead, the rain pelting down like rocks. Your fingers are numb, and the feeling’s slowly spreading. Along with the dark realisation that Bucky wasn’t going to let you back in no matter how much you begged.

You feel like nothing as you slowly trudge back to Steve’s house. You don’t belong there, and yet… where else could you go? You want the rain to swallow you up whole, or the rushing water to suck you down a drain and take you far, far away. Away from everyone, to eternal darkness. To a place where no one could see the mark on your neck, where you didn’t feel like you’d forever lost yourself.

Instead, the water just descends upon you cruelly, soaking you through your clothes and down to the bone and yet you can’t bring yourself to care.

It’s when you reach Steve’s house that you realise you don’t have a key.

You don’t belong anywhere, the dark voice inside you mocks. Nobody wants you, nobody needs you. All you do is cause hurt and despair wherever you go, and–

You sink down on the marble steps in front of the Rogers’ mansion, trying to will yourself not to feel the freezing cold of the wind and rain, or the numbness, or the hopelessness. But it’s no use, it all consumes you anyways. Till you’re positive you’re not there anymore. Just a ghost of someone who used to be someone, before she was claimed in one unforgiving bite and her world crumbled around her.

The car headlights don’t even register to you. Neither does the silhouette of Steve until he’s right up in front of you. Saying words that you can’t make out, grabbing you by the arm but you’re too cold so you can’t quite feel it.

“What the hell were you doing out there in the rain?” He says the moment he’s unlocked the door and pushed you inside, the instant warmth enveloping you like a hug except it brings you no joy.

You shrug, not having it in you to answer. Instead, you stare at a speck on the floor. The pristine, cream-coloured marble floor and yet there’s a singular speck on it. Was it designed like that? Or could it perhaps be scrubbed off? Removed forever? You feel the urge to remove it, numb fingers twitching. Determinedly focusing on only that speck as Steve shakes your shoulders.

“Did you hear me, omega? Why were you out there in the freezing cold? Do you have a death wish?”

Yes.

“He doesn’t see me anymore.”

Steve squints, “What?”

“The mark. That’s all he sees.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s forgotten that I’m still me.” Or am I?

Steve runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “What the hell are you–”

He stops short. Nose twitches. And you look away from the speck in time to see the most peculiar expression cross his face. Like blank shock and disbelief, like trepidation.

“Where were you?” He asks, this time in a voice so quiet yet so loaded. Like he knows the answer yet he’s hoping you won’t say it.

“With James.”

Steve sucks in his breath, and then you’re being yanked straight into him. He sniffs at you desperately, and then you feel it. A peculiar kind of thudding pain. Dull, yet so precise. Like a heart breaking in the distance. Not your own, but it may as well be. Because you feel it.

He cups your face in his, forcing you to look at him. But you don’t need to, because you feel it. A heart shattering feeling of despair. Was that him feeling that?

“You didn’t.” He says it firmly, and yet that confidence doesn’t reach his eyes. He searches your face as if trying to find the answer that he wants to hear. “Tell me you didn’t. Just please… please tell me you didn’t, and I’ll believe you.”

“I had to prove it to him,” you feel like a robot, and it comes out in a broken, faraway whisper. “I had to prove to him that I still cared about him.”

There’s a tremor in his hands, and yet he shakes his head as if he doesn’t quite want to believe it.

“You wouldn’t.” He swallows harshly, “You love me, so you wouldn’t–”

A lone tear runs down your cheek. “He said I had to prove it to him...”

Pin drop silence. And then…

“FUCK!” He shoves you away and you thud into the wall. Not too hard. Or maybe you’re just too numb to feel anything anymore.

He turns to the nearest object he can find – a heavy decorative crystal bowl. You flinch when he throws it to the floor with so much force, it shatters on impact. Shards of glass fly everywhere. Then he grabs something else, throwing that too. The noise of it breaking makes your ears ring. And then he throws something else – a vase this time. The expensive China explodes on the marble, flowers and water sliding across the floor dejectedly.

And it’s like you’re five years old again. Snap your fingers and you can see it. Drunken screaming and fighting, objects flying, things breaking. Your mother yelling, her drunken boyfriends charging at her. The ghost of a little girl cowering in the shadows, wanting it all to just stop, stop, stop.

You slide down to the floor, cupping your ears because he won’t stop throwing things. He won’t stop yelling. You feel this bone-chilling fear, and you wish you were gone. That you didn’t exist. You scrunch your eyes shut, but you can still hear him:

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” He knocks over an ornate wooden table. One of the legs gives out.

“Please stop,” you whisper, but when had anyone ever stopped when you asked them to?

He gets louder. Angrier. You cover your ears desperately, and you stare at your speck. Focus on it real hard till it blurs. A shard of glass slides over it, and you get the urge to pocket it. Maybe you could use it later.

You grab it, the sharp, jagged edge grazing against your palm. That you can feel. And you’re so scared, so scared of how angry he is. Terrified of him and the ghosts of your past that scream inside your head, revving back to life when you’d tried so hard to bury them.

You don’t know where to go. Back out into the rain? What if he dragged you back and hurt you? He was scaring you so bad. Your chest feels like it’s about to explode. All you can think to do is run up the stairs, up to the only room in this house that you know how to get to. His room.

He’s still breaking things behind you when you take off, up the grand staircase that feels like a giant tongue that could swallow you whole. That mocks you for even being here. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere.

Into his bedroom, and then you stand there, frozen, the shard of glass still in your hand. The jagged edge is sharp and enticing, like it’s egging you on. Quick, the voice inside your head screams, before he follows you up here. Do it.

Not here, you tell it, it’ll stain his carpet if I do it here.

You glance at his bathroom, at the porcelain bathtub inside. It’s massive, like you could drown in it if you really tried to. The glass presses into your palm. Now. Do it now. Do it, do it, do it, do it–

Steve crashes into the room, grabbing you by the shoulders. You flinch, gasp dying in your throat. His eyes are fiery and crazed, jaw clenched, breathing erratic.

“You’re mine,” he seethes, his face inches from yours, “No matter what you may think, or who you decide to spread your legs for. I’m not letting up on you. You’re mine, and I’ll fucking kill him if he gets between you and me.”

“It’s all your fault!” You burst, not realising your anger has overridden your fear until it explodes out of you. And your hands are shaking as your grip hardens on the shard of glass, but you manage to meet his wild eyes, all your grief turning into a momentary spark of rage. “He hates me and it’s all your fault!”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he sneers, gripping your jaw roughly, “I don’t give a fuck if he hates you. All I care about is that you’re my fucking property and I’m done being nice about it. Clearly that shit doesn’t work on you.”

“I HATE YOU!” You try to square up to him, but he’s so big, so frightening. It makes you tremble, shrink back, and yet you’re still so overcome with emotion: “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” his grip on you doesn’t let up. In fact, it’s unforgiving, “And I don’t care if you hate me. In fact, you don’t even know what I’m capable of. From here on out, I’ll give you a fucking reason to hate me.”

“I hate you,” you repeat, again and again till the words lost their meaning, and you sag in his arms because your rage and sadness has sapped all the energy from your body. “I hate you, Steve. I wish I’d never met you. I hate you and you ruined everything.”

“You ruined everything,” he spits out, venom laced through his each and every word. And then he throws you roughly on the bed. For a wild moment, you think the worst. And you ready yourself for it, knowing you won’t be able to overpower him no matter how hard you tried.

But he just stares at you. Long and hard. His gaze both fiery red with rage and yet so icy cold at the same time. His navy eyes switching between fire and ice too, looking broken and far away one second, and then frenzied and wild the next. Like he was going through a whirlpool of emotions and didn’t know how to get a grip on himself.

And it made him look so dangerous that it chills you down to the bone.

He opens his mouth to say something, and a clap of thunder booms outside and a flash lights up the whole room for a few beats. You watch him. He watches you. Silence, except for the storm.

He turns and leaves, slamming the door shut behind him and plunging you in darkness. A weakness overtakes you almost instantly. A peculiar kind, like a mental exhaustion as much as a physical one. You can still feel the glass in your hand. But you can’t find the will to go to the bathtub to use it. All you can do is lie there. On his bed. In his room. Smelling of him. Surrounded by him. Him. Him. Him.

Did you even exist anymore?

*

You leave the next day. Waking up alone on Steve’s bed, you robotically gather your things and go. You find him passed out on an armchair downstairs. The mess he’d made has been cleaned up as if by magic. The floors gleam once more, and even the crystal bowl has been replaced. Like yesterday never happened. Like you’d imagined it all. But your shard of glass tells you otherwise.

He’s surrounded by bottles of alcohol, and you can smell it on him. It makes you want to leave even more. And you try to be quiet, but as you cross him you sense his eyes on you. He’s awake. Unmoving.

You clear your throat.

“I’m going to get the bus back to campus.”

No answer. He just watches you. But he does not stop you. And so you leave without another word.

***

The familiarity of your dorm room brings you no relief. Neither does your desk or your textbooks or any of your other things. Luckily, classes would resume from tomorrow, but that still meant the rest of today and all of tonight to get through surrounded by silence. Silence and fear. Your mind screams with thoughts of everything that had gone down in the past few days, and oh how you wish you could just mute it all!

You itch for a friend – but who could you possibly call? All the friends you’d made were Bucky’s friends first. Maybe Peter? No, you couldn’t burden him with this. Your mother? Oh, she wouldn’t even answer! And that was it. You had no one else.

You stare hard at the shard of glass that you’ve brought along with you. Stare at it so hard that your vision blurs, and you swallow thickly. Desperation suddenly rising, you quickly log into the university’s website, looking up the resident student counsellor. She looks friendly enough in her picture, maybe you could call her? Maybe she’d know what to do?

You catch a glimpse of the mark on your neck in your mirror, and feel a strong urge to burst into tears again. Limply, you hold your phone up, ready to type in her number. But then the screen goes black. Battery dead. Your face crumples, and you throw your phone on your bed in frustration. What was the point? She’d never understand! Nobody could understand!

I’ll just wait for the pills, you think to yourself as you curl up on your bed in defeat, they’ll dull the bond and everything’s gonna go back to how it was before. It will, it will, it will!

You hold your teddy close and scrunch your eyes shut, hoping the voice in the back of your head doesn’t say anything. And it doesn’t this time, and you snuggle into the warm fur of your bear, and fall into a fitful sleep.

*

It feels like the first day of college all over again. But you’d done it once and survived, so you could most definitely do it again. That’s what you keep telling yourself as you make your way into the lecture theatre for World Politics the following Monday morning.

You hadn’t heard from Steve since the last time you’d seen him the morning you’d left his house. And you doubt he’d be in class today. But you don’t care! Not in the least. Not even a little bit. He was scary and you hated him for everything he’d done. And now he hated you too, you know he did. You couldn’t forget the look in his eye when he’d found out you’d been with Bucky. Oh, he definitely hated you too!

Maybe the distance will help weaken the bond, you think to yourself. At least until the pills arrive.

There’s an immediate hush when you enter the lecture hall. At first, you think nothing of it. But then the whispers begin. A soft hum that turns into a tidal wave in mere seconds. You frown as you make your way to the front row where you usually sit.

“Well, if it isn’t the campus slut.”

Your head snaps up. A group of alphas are sat two rows behind you. Steve and Bucky’s friends. You recognise them– Ransom, Andy, Curtis. All three of them sit there guffawing at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Careful Andy, she might just fall on your dick if you hold eye contact with her for too long. And who knows what diseases she’s carrying.”

What the–

“That’s true. She clearly doesn’t care about who she’s fucking – seeing as she hopped from Bucky to Steve in less than a day.”

Your eyes widen, and you feel winded. Like you haven’t quite heard them right. They couldn’t possibly…

“Who’s next in line, huh?” Curtis leers at you in a way he never has before. You’d never been particularly close to any of them in the past, but they’d never spoken a disrespectful word to you before now. “You gonna run through our whole friend group? Should I stock up on condoms or do you carry a pack around with you wherever you go?”

Your jaw drops, and yet no sound comes out.

Ransom laughs, “She’s definitely got a pack in her purse. Which is just as well, ‘cause I’ve got the rest of the day free. What do you say, omega? You taking any appointments?”

“And how much do you charge?”

“Wh-What are you–”

You’ve barely gotten your words out when someone slams their book down next to the three alphas.

“Nah, she’s all booked up for today,” Bucky takes a seat next to his friends, his face void of any emotion except for an empty smile. He nods to the front of the room where the professor is setting up his PowerPoint. “How do you think she got into this class in the first place?”

The betrayal is like a slap in your face. Bucky looks rough, tired. His cheeks hollow, his eyes blank. Stubble grown out, bags under his eyes. And that empty smile, one that you’ve never seen on him before. One that’s not familiar at all. He’s like a statue, one that doesn’t meet your gaze.

“James,” you whisper, “How could you–”

“I had to get tested after I fucked her,” he’s acting like you’re not even there. And it’s like he’s been brainwashed because how could this possibly be the man who’d never once been anything but sweet, nice and charming to you? How could this possibly be the man who was your boyfriend just last week? “She hid it from me, you know? The fact she was fucking the professor. But I’d steer clear of her now that I know. Hell, she’s probably fucking half the faculty, can’t think of any other way she’d get have gotten into this college.”

Curtis snickers, “Half the faculty huh? I thought she was with Steve now.”

Bucky acts like he hasn’t heard him, although you see a flicker of emotion in his eyes when Steve’s name is mentioned. Like hurt, anger. But then it’s gone. Like a candle being snuffed out, and he’s back to looking empty again.

“Steve’s probably just using her for a good time,” Andy says, “We know what he’s like, and we know what girls like her are good for.”

“A pump and dump,” Ransom elbows Bucky, “C’mon bro, you’re lucky you escaped her. We can only hope Steve does too.”

“Stop it!” You break, a surge of embarrassment mixed with anger coursing through you, “H-How dare you speak about me like that!”

All four of them burst out laughing, but the only one you can focus on is Bucky. His laughter sounds strange. Forced. Programmed. Empty. You look at him and only him.

“James, I know I hurt you but how could you–”

“Why the fuck is she talking to me?” Bucky’s looking at you and yet not quite at you. Like his gaze is just going through you, beyond you. “Look at her, trying to psychoanalyse me as if she’s some psychiatrist and not just a hick-town omega slut who spread her legs to get into school for free.”

The gasp dies in your throat, and you feel your lower lip wobble. How could he?! Oh, how could he say all these terrible things without batting an eye?! The same man who’d held you so tenderly, who’d been so patient with you. Who’d built up your confidence, told you that you were different, that you were the girl he wanted to change for, the one he wanted to settle down with. The same man who’d stood up for you in the past, who’d comforted you, complimented you, longed for you. The same man you’d had endless conversations with, the same man who’d held you in his arms in your bed at night.

Gone, gone, gone like the wind.

“I can’t believe you,” you utter, trying to be strong but you feel a wave of tears on the brink of overtaking you, “H-How could you say all this, after everything we’ve –”

“Now she’s about to turn on the waterworks. Just watch.” Oh, James was gone. Utterly and completely gone. And a stranger had stolen his face and his body and his voice and everything else because this wasn’t your James. This was a monster.

You stand up, accidentally knocking your textbooks to the ground. More cruel snickers. Slowly you look around, suddenly hyper-aware of the multiple pairs of eyes looking your way. Oh, it wasn’t just them! Everyone was looking at you! Everyone was laughing!

Your cheeks feel hot, and your eyes well with tears. What rumours had Bucky spread about you? What lies had he convinced the whole world to be true?! You can’t quite wrap your head around his betrayal. Oh, you can barely even look at him! Which is just as well, because he can’t look at you either.

“I’d never do this to you,” you whisper, picking your books up and hugging them close to your chest as some form of pathetic comfort, “I-I’d never…never do this to you.”

He still doesn’t look at you, and yet everyone else is. And you don’t care that the class has begun, that the professor is already talking. All you can feel is everyone’s burning gaze on you, and the sting of Bucky’s betrayal and his cruel words. Oh, you can’t take it! And you know you should be strong; be the confident woman you’d grown to become these past few months. But all you can think to do in this moment is run.

You thud down the stairs, and it’s like the laughter grows louder and yet the silence is deafening. Like there’s a spotlight on you. And everyone can see your tears as they threaten to spill. And a sob breaks through your lips as you reach the door of the lecture theatre and throw it open, escaping the cruel stares and yet feeling like you haven’t escaped anything at all. Like this is just the beginning.

You burst into tears before you can stop yourself, chest heaving as you feel a panic attack coming. Leaning against the wall, you pray the hallway remains empty. Sinking down, you can’t help but cry. Hot tears of embarrassment, sadness, hurt and betrayal all mixed into one. Tears of frustration because you were so pathetic that you couldn’t even defend yourself. Tears of helplessness because was this how it would be from now on?

The mark on your neck throbs, and you feel an inexplicable need for Steve. But would things have been any different had he been here? No, because he hated you too.

You’re unlovable, the cruel voice inside your head taunts. It hasn’t made an appearance in a while but it’s back in full force now. You’re unlovable and that’s why everyone hurts you. And you deserve it. You deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it!

***

The days all start blending into one after that. You’re a pariah on campus, treated almost like a disease. It hurts so bad at first. So, so bad. You can’t quite wrap your head around how Bucky’s managed to turn everyone against you. He’d been your one true friend here but everyone else you’d spoken to had somewhat liked or respected you. Now, all you get is jeers, laughs or straight-up dirty looks.

Just ignore them, you coach yourself after a week of it. You’re here to learn. You can take it. You’ve taken much worse back home. And you don’t wanna go back. You worked so hard to get here and you CAN’T go back.

And yet it doesn’t get easier. It’s like you’ve got a sign on your back saying campus slut, and everyone taunts you like they can’t get enough. Especially the alphas. And often you find yourself back in your dorm room, hugging your teddy and crying your eyes out and trying not to think about the piece of glass you’ve stashed carefully in your bathroom cabinet. Sniffling into your teddy’s warm fur that smells like the man who was the cause of all of this.

And Steve still doesn’t show up to any of his classes. Not that you care, because you hate him and he most definitely hates you too. And a part of you is still so terrified of him since that fateful rainy night, when everything had crashed and burned. When you’d seen the hatred in his eyes with your very own, inches away from your face.

And then, after weeks of no showing all his classes… he comes to your dorm room one night. He thinks you’re sleeping, but you’re awake when he gets into bed next to you. And then he comes again the next night, and the next. And then it’s almost like you can’t sleep unless he’s there, and he comes almost every night. Gets into bed with you, even though it’s tiny and the two of you barely fit.

And he holds you close, tucks you in against his chest and sometimes you think it’s all a dream. Because your days are so nightmarish, that your mind has conjured up a dreamlike fantasy as soon as the sun sets. And you finally relax, and your heart finally stops hurting, and you welcome the tenderness. Not knowing why he comes, but knowing it calms you, and you can finally escape the torment of the bullying during the day.

Once you even hear him on the phone. You’re half asleep but you feel the weight of your bed shift, see him sitting on the edge of it.

“I don’t care what that that doctor says. He’s an idiot and we need to find another one. And dad’s gonna do that, he’ll find someone competent. And you’re gonna be OK, we just need to–”

But he’s gone each morning when you wake up, almost like he wasn’t there at all. Like a shadow, slipping away as the sun rises.

Your pills finally arrive, and you take them without a second thought. At first, you feel no difference. But after a few days, a certain numbness hits. You don’t know if the pills are a dud, and it’s just you disassociating due to all the heckles and taunts and harassment. But you take them nonetheless, as if swallowing them diligently day after day might one day solve all your problems. As if one day you’d wake up and your mark would be gone, and Bucky would be nice again, and you’d find your confidence again. And Steve would be gone, gone, gone forever.

Except that’s not what you want at all, the voice in your head sings. It’s always there now. Always putting you down. But you deserve it, don’t you?

One day, you’re walking across the field on your way home after classes when you feel a slight breeze. And then you smell it. That inexplicable scent of burning firewood and a hot summer’s day. Except it’s not summer, which meant–

Your head whips up the same time his does. And for a split second, your eyes meet. Steve. With the rest of the football team – minus Bucky, thankfully. He holds your gaze, and it’s the first time you’ve looked at him in what feels like weeks. And you feel an odd comfort, despite the fact that you hate him and he probably hates you too.

There’s a group of cheerleaders hanging around him, it looks to be some sort of joint practice session. And Steve just stares at you, and you can’t help but stare back. Like he’s got you in some captivating hold that you can’t break free from. Like you’re both encased in a bubble where it’s just you two, despite the numerous people milling around.

And then, out of nowhere, the bubble pops when Steve pointedly turns his attention to a girl near him. You vaguely recognise her from around campus. A cheerleader. Beautiful, with long flowing hair. He puts his arm around her waist, and just like that you feel your heart plummet like an anchor. He watches you over her head, watches while the girl giggles at whatever he’s said. Watches you as she scrapes her nails against his chest, moves closer to him. He runs his hand up and down her back, his eyes boring through yours the entire time, almost like he’s waiting for a reaction.

It feels like a ton of bricks have dropped inside your stomach, alongside a whirlpool of emotions ranging from anger to disbelief. You want to rip the girl’s hair out, and at the same time want to curl up into a ball and cry. Oh, you hate him, you hate him, you hate him! Hate him for making you feel like this, hate him for confusing you so much, for making you yearn for him and yet stomping all over your heart at the same time! And you hate your pills for not working at all in this moment, when you’d hoped and prayed that they were and would.

You stand there, heart breaking over and over again. But it’s when the girl stands up on her tiptoes and kisses Steve’s cheek that you forcibly tear your gaze away and turn. Determinedly marching off, tears blurring your vision. Oh, you hated him so bad! You hated him and you hated Bucky too! And most of all, you hated yourself, and–

“Hey, hey, hey – watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry,” you mumble, peaking up at the person whose chest you’ve just banged into.

To your horror, Curtis’ face relaxes once he recognises you, “Oh, it’s just the campus slut. Ready to finally give me my appointment?”

“L-Leave me alone,” you avert your eyes, staring hard at the grass. Panic rises in your chest – an instinctive response that you’ve grown used to now. And you hate how your stutter has returned, and how scared you sound. You wish you were a different person, a more confident person. But daily torment has beaten that out of you, and you cower like a sorry, pathetic loser, hoping he’ll grow bored and let you off easy and allow you to just leave.

“Now why would I do that?” He chuckles, grabbing your shoulders to stop you from scurrying away, “Tell me, you interested in a two-for-one special? Me and Ransom were talking about it, we could show you a good time.”

“Please, j-just stop, I just wanna go back to my dorm room.”

“Please, j-just stop!” He mimics, making his voice all comically high-pitched. But then his eyes grow dark, and he looks down at you with a lecherous kind of hunger that scares you. “It’s too bad you’re just a trashy omega slut, because you’re such a fucking hot piece of ass. C’mon, just come back to my dorm room with me, we could have some fun–”

It happens quickly. His hand snakes down and you let out a quiet squeak when he squeezes your ass. A burning hot anger courses through you, along with a paralysing sense of fear. You bat his hand away and jump backwards. He looks unperturbed, closing the gap between you instantly, a hungry grin on his face.

And then he’s yanked away from you, and there’s a blur of movement. Your eyes widen as Steve tackles Curtis to the ground, his fists pummelling into his face over and over again. You hear several sickening cracking sounds, Curtis screaming, everyone else yelling and forming a crowd around them. And then just Steve’s fists, crack after crack. Spurts of blood.

And Steve looks furious, like he’s a man possessed. Veins popping, face red. Landing punch after punch on Curtis’ face which is quickly growing unrecognisable. Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out.

Several others try to pry Steve off. First Sam, then Thor joins in. But they can’t, and he easily fights them off. Another fist to Curtis’ jaw, and another one straight to his eye. You hide your face, too scared to watch yet at the same time too paralysed to do anything else.

“Don’t fucking touch her again!”

It takes five guys from the football team plus their coach to finally get Steve off. And he’s breathing hard, his eyes crazed like he’s frenzied like a wolf. And his gaze meets yours, and you’re so fucking terrified that you have to look away.

“You’re fucking in for it now, Rogers,” the football coach is livid, “I don’t care how much money you come from or whatever the fuck you’re going through at home with your mother–”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Steve snaps in fury, and several of them have to hold him back as he lunges for the coach too.

That’s when it all gets too much for you, and you turn on your heel and run, run, run away. Heart thudding and feeling like you need to scrub yourself clean ten times over because of how he touched you when you didn’t want him to. Violated you.

Back in your dorm room, you collapse on your bed and cry. Hugging your teddy close and hating everything about life. You think back to a million years ago, when you’d first started college. How optimistic you’d been to leave all the sadness of home behind. But sorrow seemed to follow you wherever you went. Everything was a mess and it was all your fault! Oh, if only you’d been stronger, somehow hadn’t let Steve bite you, if you’d have been smart enough to escape. Then none of this would be happening! Oh, it was all your fault!

You cry and cry, dragging yourself into the shower and scrubbing yourself raw over and over again. Maybe you could wash it off? Wash off Curtis’ touch? Wash off Steve’s bite mark? Wash off whatever it was written on your face that made everyone treat you like crap?

You itch for the shard of glass. You still haven’t thrown it away, and the voice in your head urges you to use it. To do it, just do it. Just do it.

Your body hurts by the time you finally get out of the shower. In a tearful rage, you’d rubbed the sponge so hard at your mark that it’s opened up and bleeding once more. You’d wanted it to disappear but you’ve made it more apparent than ever, and it hurts. Everything hurts.

You’re still hurting as you drag yourself under your covers and fall into a fitful sleep.

*

“Fuck, stupid fucking shoes. Fuck you!”

You wake up with a jolt, and yet self-preservation has you instinctively stay still, and your eyes shut while your heart thuds. But then you smell Steve’s familiar scent, and your body can’t help but relax. He noisily makes his way across your dorm room, kicking anything in his way before collapsing on your bed. You lay determinedly still, making sure your breathing remains shallow.

“Hi,” Steve sighs, and you can immediately smell the liquor on him. But his hand is so warm as it strokes your back. He lowers the blanket so he can touch the bare skin of your arm, and his warmth sears you from the inside out. And it’s a calming effect that you welcome despite everything. Oh, he confused you so much!

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says after a short pause, and you can hear him slurring his words, and it makes your blood freeze. How much had he drank? Would he get violent, mean, scary, horrible? How could someone calm you yet scare you so much at the same time?

“And they all know it. They all want you, baby. I wish I could protect you from everyone. Take you back home and keep you safe and sound. Away from all these assholes who can’t wait to take advantage of you.” He sighs, and it’s such a stark contrast, this gentle tone he’s using. So different from that rainy night where he’d crashed and broken everything and you’d been scared for your life. It’s funny, because you associate alcohol with violence, and yet this is the gentlest Steve has ever spoken to you.

“Y-You were scary today,” you speak, voice still croaky from sleep.

He jumps, “You’re awake…”

“Yes.” Would he leave now? He only stayed when he thought you were asleep.

But Steve stays put, “I got suspended.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But I got Curtis expelled, so he won’t bother you anymore. And that’ll teach that stupid fuck not to mess with what’s mine.”

Relief floods your body. But it’s fleeting. Curtis was gone, but the other alphas still remained. And they’d be even more ruthless now that you were the reason Curtis was expelled. Not to mention Bucky, who was still on a warpath to ruin your life. You gulp, feeling the urge to cry again.

The two of you lie there in silence, with him just stroking your back, both of you lost in a million racing thoughts.

“You didn’t care,” he breaks the silence.

“Huh?”

“When I was talking to that other girl. When she kissed me. You didn’t care at all.”

You think back. Well, you had cared. Hadn’t you? But what could you possibly have done about it?

“I wish you loved me like how I love you.” He sighs, stroking your hair now, playing with it and twining it around his finger. “I wish… I wish you’d just see what I see, and let yourself be happy with me instead of fighting against it.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna be happy,” you say softly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be,” your voice catches, the lump in your throat getting bigger, “I think I just… I just try to find happiness wherever I can, but whenever I do it’s always a matter of time before I ruin everything. I ruined it with my dad, and so he left and that’s why my mom hates me now, so I’ve ruined it with her too. And I ruined it with Peter, and then with James.”

“But what about me?” He sounds so… so innocent.

“What we have isn’t love,” you do anything but look at him, focusing on the loose thread of your duvet cover instead. “You just took what you wanted and you didn’t even ask. And you don’t love me, Steve. You’re never there, every day when they…” you sniffle, “Soon you’ll realise how unhappiness follows me wherever I go, and you’ll leave me too.”

“Never,” he buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply and hugging you close till all you can smell is him. “I’ve never been in love before but I promise I love you. You’re all I think about, day and night. Even when there’s other shit I should be focusing on, it’s always just you. I think I loved you from the moment I saw you. And I wish to God I could go back and do it all differently. Take you out and make you my girlfriend properly. Then you’d have loved me back, and none of this other shit would’ve happened.”

Oh, his words painted the prettiest picture! But could you believe him? Or should you believe the facts? Which were that he’d been horrid to you when he’d first seen you, and Bucky was the one who’d been nice. It’s like Steve’s whole personality has changed overnight – from the ruthless, stoic and mean alpha to now this hot and cold man who goes from scary one day to in love with you the next.

“I don’t believe you,” it comes out in the faintest whisper, and yet you know he’s heard you because he stiffens, “All you’ve ever done is hurt me and I don’t believe you about anything… Thank you for standing up for me today, but…”

Your voice trails off, but you know what you want to say: but I’m just so miserable, so miserable all the time and it’s all because of you!

“But what? Why won’t you let yourself love me?” In his drunkenness, he sounds almost like a petulant child, like he’s used to getting everything he’s ever wanted and he can’t fathom why he can’t have this.

“Y-You scare me,” you whisper, scrunching your eyes shut and shrinking into yourself under the covers lest you make him mad. “Not just today but… last time, at your house, when you were throwing and breaking things, and I was so scared. H-How could I love someone who makes me feel so scared?”

There’s such a long pause, you think he’s dozed off. But he hasn’t, because he tries to pull you closer, clumsily embrace you. Except you remain stiff, cowering under the covers and not knowing what to think, especially now since you’ve reminded him of the night you slept with Bucky.

“I was so angry that night, I thought I’d explode,” he says softly into your hair, “and I’ve never felt anything like it. If any one of my exes told me they’d slept with my best friend, I wouldn’t have cared. But you,” he pauses, exhaling deeply, “it felt like you’d ripped my world apart from underneath me. I was so angry, and I knew if I went to see him then, I would’ve murdered him. Slit his fucking throat. Instead, I took it out on you. But it wasn’t your fault that he took advantage of you.”

You swallow back tears, “I was so scared,” I still am. All the time.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I won’t scare you like that ever again.”

“You will.” All of you scare me.

“I won’t. I’ll be better for you, I promise.” He tries to hold your face, tries to kiss you but you turn away, not accepting his embrace despite every cell in your body screaming at you to give in. “Baby, please. I know everything sucks right now but soon, I’ll fix everything. I’ll take you away from here and I’ll fix everything.”

What?

“Mmhm,” he’s this weird mix of drunk and half asleep, and he presses his face against your cheek, nuzzling you while you remain still in his arms. “I’ll take you back to my house and keep you safe there. We’ll have our little girl and my mom’s gonna be there to see her, and everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Oh, he was drunker than you thought!

You swallow harshly, “I don’t want that.”

“Yes, you do. You want what I want. I can feel it.” Again, he tries to kiss you. This time, you let him. You don’t know why, but it’s almost like it’s muscle memory kissing him. It comes so easily, so naturally. And he’s such a good kisser, even when he’s drunk. He holds your face so carefully, like you’re made of glass and you’ll break if he goes too rough. And he tastes like alcohol but surprisingly, you don’t mind.

“I love you so much…”

You shake your head, try one last time to fight him, “No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, Steve. You don’t. You know nothing about me, none of my interests or my quirks because you never asked.” Not like how James did. “All you know is that you want to own me and control me. But that’s not love. What we have isn’t love.”

“You’re wrong. Completely wrong. I do know you. I know you better than he does. I know you more than anyone else in this world.”

You don’t know how or when he slips inside you, but he does and it feels like a dream sequence. Like two puzzle pieces that were lost on two separate ends of the attic until someone finally found them and put them together again. HOW?! HE DIDN’T LOVE YOU AND YOU DIDN’T LOVE HIM! SO HOW?!

And how could this be the same Steve? The one who’d looked so mad with rage the last time you’d come face to face with him? The one who’d screamed and yelled and thrown and broken things, and yet here he was, holding you so tenderly as if none of that had ever happened? And here you were, accepting his touch and spreading your legs for him as if none of that had ever happened.

“You’re so good for me,” Steve whispers, his teeth grazing against your neck, “so soft and small and fucking perfect for me. Fuck, I needed this.”

You feel his tongue lap at your mark, and it’s so different from the first time. When he’d ruthlessly sunk his teeth into you, leaving his stamp of ownership on you without a second thought. Without caring what you wanted. Now, he seems so soft, so gentle.

What would he be like tomorrow?

You quiver, feeling so small in his arms. He shifts till he’s on top of you, his strokes gentle yet precise, his tip touching where you need him so badly. Building you up in a way you’ve learnt that only he can. You pant, pulling him closer, wanting him to kiss you again. Needing him, yet hating him, yet needing him all the same. Like you’ll die without him. Like he completes you, no matter how hard you wish it wasn’t true.

“Promise you’ll love me one day,” he says softly while you clutch at his t-shirt, your shaking legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you close. “Promise you’ll try to love me. That you’ll forget about him and love me like how I love you.”

Your answer is lost in a sea of breathless moans and desperate ruts. The sound of kissing, the dull thud of your cheap bed frame against the wall. The beat of his heart and your own. So in sync, almost like they’d been like that since the day you were born.

He falls asleep soon after you both climax. Still holding you tight, as if he thinks you might slip away. You try to follow suit, but your mind can’t keep quiet. Not even for a second. Despite his inviting warmth that radiates from his body and envelopes you into an enticing hug. The voices in your head scream so loudly, it’s like they’re at war with each other. And you lie there for ages, trying to get them to quieten down, but they don’t. And your heart beats so hard it almost hurts, and you feel sick. And wrong. And used.

You stumble into your bathroom, and it’s when you look at your reflection in the mirror that the dark voice in your head speaks up.

You really are a slut, it accuses. Spreading your legs for him again, and enjoying it again. You’re everything they make fun of you for being. In fact, you’re worse. You say you don’t want him, that you don’t love him, and yet you give in to him every time.

The dark, mocking words spread through your bloodstream like poisonous ink. Your vision blurs. You hardly recognise the girl in front of you. Who was she? Who were you? What had you become?

Get fucked, you remember Bucky’s venomous words. It’s all you’re good for.

In a frenzy, you throw open the cabinet under the sink. Carefully pick up your glass shard, the one you’ve kept so safe for all this time. Maybe for this moment.

Do it, do it, do it. You know you want to. It’ll be best for everyone if you just do it now.

The glass feels cool against your palm. You trace it lightly against your skin, daring yourself to bring it upwards. Slowly. Very, very slowly. It’s sharp and jagged, glinting under the cheap bathroom light. You scrunch your eyes shut, try to ignore the thudding of your heart.

Do it, do it, do it. Now.

You hear a stirring in the distance. The sound of your name. Footsteps. Your name again. Louder this time. The doorknob rattles.

“Open the door!” Steve shakes the door again, calling out your name. Oh, how long had you been in here for? And how did he know to come find you? “Omega, did you hear me? Open the door.”

The glass falls from your hand, and you roughly wipe the tears from your face. Tears you didn’t even realise you’d shed. You open the door and he grabs you the moment you do, pulling you out and staring at you hard.

“What were you doing in there?”

“Nothing.”

He regards you carefully, so carefully you fear he can read your mind and see right through you. And you think that perhaps he can, when he gently peels back the sleeves of your sweater and looks. Just looks. Long and hard, as if searching for something. Something you still couldn’t bring yourself to do. And then he wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and carrying you back to bed without another word.

You fall asleep in his arms, and it’s the strangest sensation – feeling troubled and at peace at the same time. Because being in Steve’s arms brings you peace, and yet he’s the very person who’s caused your whole life to turn into a mess. Oh, how could such a terrible person make you feel so safe, so at home like nobody else could? Did it make you a terrible person? Feeling so at ease with him? And not feeling like that with good people like Peter and James?

Did it even matter? It’s not like he’d even be there long enough for you to wrap your head around the complicated ways in which he made you feel. Because of course, in the morning he’s gone once more. And you’re left alone once more. Gone with the wind. Like a fleeting dream. Almost like you imagined it all. Almost like he never was.

Your teddy’s coal black eyes stare at you profoundly, and you feel the sudden urge to throw your glass shard in the garbage. Instead, you methodically get ready for the day, swallowing a bunch of your pills like you do every morning. Life was slowly losing all meaning, but the pills still made you feel like you had a bit of control. And so you take them, and yet you don’t dare hope for anything.

***

“Congratulations, another top tier research paper,” The professor smiles as he hands you back your work at the end of class later that day. “You really are a star pupil.”

You feel a small burst of pride, but it’s snuffed out quickly when the inevitable wave of snickers sound from behind you.

“More like star of taking it up the ass,” an alpha mutters under his breath. More laughs. You duck your head, shoving your paper into your bookbag without a second glance.

The professor, having not heard anything, looks unperturbed, “It’s a pleasure to have a student like you.”

More laughs and jeers and jokes made quietly. The professor moves on, slamming a research paper down on the desk behind you while you quietly pack your bag.

“Not your best work, Mr. Drysdale,” he says, “Although perhaps you should be commended for actually turning something in this time. And Mr. Barnes – I see you’ve taken a page out of Mr. Drysdale’s old playbook because you didn’t turn anything in at all. You do realise this paper contributes to your final grade?”

Bucky laughs as if it doesn’t even mean anything. And to the likes of alphas like them, it didn’t. Just like how it didn’t matter to Steve that he’d gotten suspended. You suppose when you had that much wealth, things like this just weren’t something to worry about.

“Hey, omega – what kind of magic pussy have you got that’s making the professor simp so hard?” Ransom jabs your shoulder hard.

You’re numb to it now. It’s just another day. You zip your bookbag shut and stand up, about to make a hasty exit like you always do but the alphas block your path.

“What’s the hurry? Thought you’d stay back to show the professor a good time after all that ass kissing he just did for you.”

You swallow harshly, not having it in you to even plead or beg with them anymore. You’d just stay quiet, wait for them to get bored and leave you alone off their own accord. That, and the fact that they scared you beyond belief.

“God, just look at her, Bucky. She’s fuckin’ terrified like a little mouse.” Ransom guffaws, “Should be. She got Curtis expelled.”

Your hands shake so bad that your book bag drops to the ground, the contents spilling out everywhere. You hastily get on your knees to pick everything up, hating how they just stand there and watch instead of just leaving.

“Jeez, you’re not even gonna wait till everyone leaves before you get on your knees?” Ransom elbows Bucky, “Did her parents raise her to be slut or what?”

It’s only when you stand back up, that you hear him. Bucky, in the most detached tone you’ve ever heard him speak in:

“Her father was probably disgusted by her. She’s probably the reason why he left.”

Something breaks inside you. The tiny sliver of thread that was barely holding you together since last night. It breaks. Just like that. You feel cold all over. Freezing. Like anything keep you warm on the inside has decayed and died, withered away along with your spirit and your will to live.

Through all the laughing and mocking, you look straight into his cold, dead blue eyes and see a flickering semblance of something. Horror? Regret? Now, his mouth clamps shut. But it doesn’t matter. He’s said it. The one thing you never spoke about, the one thing you didn’t ever want to even think about. How did he even know? And now everyone knew!

You back away in slow motion, your whole body shaking violently. And then you break into a run, not caring that you’re indoors, not caring that every single person is staring at you. Not caring that you’re crying, or that your throat is closing up, or that your chest is hurting, or that your stomach feels like it’s on fire. You wish you weren’t there, you wish you’d never even come here. Maybe everyone was right – this was no place for an omega, especially you.

Oh, you wish you were dead! You wish it would all be over and you’d just be dead and unable to feel anything! Anything at all!

Out into the courtyard you run, and even more eyes gawk at you as tears stream down your cheeks. You wish you’d just disappear! Just die and it would be like you never existed. Deep down in the ground where nobody could hurt you anymore, where words meant nothing because you’d be dead and unable to feel a single thing!

In the distance, you can hear someone calling out your name. But you don’t look back. You feel like prey, like they’re all out to get you and you need to run, run, run. More calls of your name. You run faster, despite the growing pain in your stomach.

A hand grabs yours and stops you, yanking you back. That’s when you realise you’re heaving with tears, and you can barely breathe.

“I didn’t mean to say that!” Bucky keeps hold of your hand, as if scared you’ll run away the moment he lets go. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to take it that far–”

“YOU WIN, OKAY!?” You burst out, yanking your hand back with such force that it hurts, and you can still feel his searing touch on your skin. “You win, now just leave me alone!”

“I’m sorry!” He tries to grab your arm again, “I’m sorry, it should never have gone that far. I was just so angry, and I–”

“I’m leaving,” you say quietly, “I can’t take it anymore, James. You were my first friend here but now it’s like you’re a stranger and I’m so miserable all the time.”

“You’re the one who–”

“I would never treat anyone the way you’ve treated me these past few weeks. Not even if they were my worst enemy, James!” You fiercely wipe your eyes, and it’s almost like your hurt is so deep that it’s translated into physical pain, and you can feel it deep in your stomach. “So you win, okay? I can’t stay here anymore. I’m gonna go home tonight and never come back! And maybe then you’ll be happy because I don’t know how else to say that I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY FOR GETTING MARKED AGAINST MY WILL, OKAY!”

He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it:

“I’m sorry that you hate me now, hate me so much that you treat me like I’m the dirt at the bottom of your shoe!” You shove him. Hard. You’ve never been physical like this with anyone before but all the animosity and hurt and anger building up inside you has broken loose. “I’m sorry that Steve took me from you. He never gave me an option but you don’t care about that at all! And now I’m stuck with someone I never chose to begin with, but you don’t care at all about that! You only care about yourself and how all of this made you feel!”

“It’s not worth it!” You cry, more to yourself than to him, “None of it’s worth being this miserable. Not college, not my scholarship, none of it! So you win, James! I’ll leave tonight, and you can forget all about me, and maybe that’ll make you happy because I tried so hard, but I don’t know what else will!”

“Leave?” Bucky repeats, spitting the word out as if he can’t quite believe it, “You can’t leave–”

“It’s like none of it meant anything to you!” A sob escapes your throat, and you don’t even hold it back. “Like what we had meant nothing, like I meant nothing. You couldn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt, you couldn’t fathom that I’d never, ever hurt you on purpose! Or go behind your back on purpose! I’d never do that to you, James! But it happened and I tried to apologise, and you didn’t accept it, but why can’t you just LEAVE ME ALONE!?”

“I can’t,” he says quietly, “I don’t fucking know why, but I just can’t leave you alone.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?” You whisper, “I’ll do you a favour and leave on my own.”

You turn to go, and that’s when you’re hit with another piercing pain. A squeak leaves your throat, and yet you remain determined as you walk away from him. But you don’t get very far before you feel it again, stronger this time. It almost winds you. Oh god, what was happening?

“Hey, are you OK?”

His voice barely registers. You clutch your stomach before taking another step forward. Oh, god please. Please just let me get back to my room.

Another pang. It feels like red hot knives twisting inside your abdomen. Your legs falter, face twisting up. What was happening to you?

You hear Bucky call out your name before your ears start ringing. You feel hot all over, and then it hits you again. And it’s so painful, you feel like you’re going to throw up. Instead, a wracked cough escapes your throat. Almost like a dry heave. And with horror, you look at the palm of your hand which is now covered in droplets of red.

It almost doesn’t feel real.

Another pang of shooting pain, and this time your knees buckle from underneath you. You collapse, but Bucky’s there to catch you. He hoists you in his arms, and you see the look of confusion and fearful concern on his face.

“Let go,” you whisper through the excruciating pain, weakly pushing against him. “I don’t want your help, I just… I need to go home. Just let me go, let me go, let me–”

Your stomach twists up as you’re hit with another stabbing pain, red hot waves of it that just won’t stop. Again and again, till you feel faint. And everything starts fading, darkness beckoning you. And it hurts so bad, so, so bad.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky sounds like he’s far away, and yet you can hear the panic in his voice, “Sweetheart? Please… Oh god, oh god…”

And then, mercifully, you pass out and everything goes black.

Well... OMG THERE IT IS. Here we go. I'm not sure what to say. To those who made it till the end - thank you for being patient with me whilst I worked on this. Please do let me know what you think - your feedback, reblogs, comments, asks - they mean the world to me more than you'll ever know. I will say, I've developed this sort of super-anxiety when it comes to posting fics now. I never had it before but now it's crazy haha - I keep second-guessing my work. I know the characters may be a bit different, but the story has an effect on how they act! And I wanted to explore a more yandere-ish Steve, a more outspoken Omega, and a more ... well... whatever Bucky was in this chapter, haha. But enough of me yapping...

I did come up with some questions (but you don't have to answer them ofc, but just in case you do...)

What do you think happened to omega at the end? :((

If you were omega, would you forgive Bucky?

Does Steve truly love Omega like how he says he does?

Who should she end up with?

Anyways. That's it I guess. Please, please let me know what you think. I'm genuinely dying to know! And let me know what you think will happen next ;)) AND THANK YOU AGAIN, I love you guys for sticking with me. I hope you enjoyed this.

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