Inspired By Taylor Swift Series

Midnight Rain

"I broke his heart because he was nice. He was Sunshine, I was Midnight Rain..."

Request - "ok but imagine a grumpy/sunshine fic with sam but the reader is the grumpy one 🤷" For one of my fave readers, I hope you enjoy! 💛

Pairing - Sam Wilson x Reader

"You know, for a smart guy, you're pretty fucking dense," Bucky mutters, taking another swig of his beer.

"Aw... you think I'm smart?" Sam sarcastically awes from the bar stool beside Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head, "Do you honestly think she had any real interest in me?"

Bucky doesn't miss the tick in Sam's jaw at the mention of you. Months had passed since the last time Sam saw you, and he wasn't too keen on remembering that dreaded last night. Just the memory of you leaning over the bar counter, hand resting on Bucky's chest, whispering something in Bucky's ear, was enough to make Sam's stomach twist into a knot.

Even before that night, he could tell that you were pulling away from him, but there it was, that night, the final nail in the coffin. That was the last time he'd seen or heard from you. You walked out of his life without so much as a goodbye.

Sam rolls his shoulders back, his mouth twisting in distaste, "Sure seemed like it to me."

"See? Dense," Bucky declares, tipping his beer in Sam's direction.

"Alright, I'll bite. How does any of that make me dense?"

"You're an idiot."

"Are you going to keep insulting me or are you going to actually explain?"

"Sam, she's a spy, an assassin," Bucky explains like it should be obvious. "She knew you were standing there. She knew you were watching."

"So maybe she wanted to make a point. It's not like she was one for talking or communicating, maybe that was her way of letting me know how she actually felt. Trust me, I got the message loud and clear. That doesn't make me dense."

"Sam..." Bucky takes a long breath. "We're a lot alike, me and her. And people like us, we cut and run, it's what we do. We don't wait for things to go bad, we live with the expectation that things will always go bad."

Sam tosses the rest of his whiskey back, flagging down the bartender for another one. "That's a depressing way to live."

"It keeps us alive."

"We weren't on a battlefield!" Sam spits through gritted teeth. "We were done with the fight, remember? We won, for Christ's sake!"

"And where did that leave her, Sam? With a conditional pardon? People watching us 24/7?"

"With me!" Sam snaps, slamming his glass down on the bar. "It left her with me. We were good, Bucky! We were happy together. At least, I thought we were happy together. I even- I told her that after everything, that I would take her back home, meet my family, maybe settle down a little."

"And while you're thinking about taking her home to meet your family, she's probably thinking how a family like yours is going to react to you bringing an actual assassin home."

"I... didn't think about it like that," Sam confesses, faltering for a moment. He shakes his head. No. He refuses to accept that. It didn't excuse that he'd found you flirting with his best friend. It didn't change that you told him he meant nothing to you. "Because I don't think about her like that. And you know what? She could've talked to me, she could've told me she felt like that, Bucky, but she didn't."

"Sam, can I be honest?"

"Shoot."

"I don't think you two will ever work."