#interrupted and buck would be fighting for his life trying to not snap and kiss eddie in the middle of a shift

[tommygotwrittenoff]

hi. buddie would be so good at the almost kiss. like soft murmuring, fluttering eyelashes, heavy breathing, noses brushing together, hands grasping. but. oh no. someone's phone rang. guess we gotta kiss some other time

[favefandomimagines]

I Bought A Ring (e.b.)

Summary: Abby’s back and Buck doesn’t know how to handle the news. And neither do you. 

AN: i’m still PISSED that abby came back even if only for an episode, my poor buck was so hurt ): this was something i had deep in my drafts and now that buck is blowing up it seemed like a good time to post it!

there is a buck fic similar to this and i just wanna say that i did not copy or steal the idea. i’ve had this in my drafts for months since season 3 ended so no one stole anyone’s idea! if you wanna check out their fic their username is @lotsoflovefromlea and the fic is titled ‘Second Best’ it’s really really good

You didn’t think you’d have to face the day when Buck’s past came back to haunt him. You were hoping it would stay in the past and you would be his future. But life has a funny way of putting us to the test. 

After the train crash, and Buck saw Abby again, he had been acting distant. Distant enough for you to notice that something was wrong. It wasn’t hard to notice, especially when the two of you live together. 

He would rarely talk when you had the same shift at the 118, there was no conversation during dinner and he’d come to bed long after you had already fallen asleep. 

It had gotten to the point where you didn’t even remember the last time he kissed you or touched you. And you had enough of the maltreatment. 

You exited the shower and saw him standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. You walked down the stairs and stood across from him, the tension between the two of you painfully obvious. 

“What’s been going on with you?” You asked, breaking the ice. “What do you mean?” He asked, not meeting your gaze. “Seriously? Buck, you’ve been acting like I killed your dog for three weeks since the train crash. What the hell is going on?” You explained. 

Buck sighed before looking up at you. He knew he couldn’t keep secrets from you. Including ones that could possibly change your relationship. 

“Abby reached out to me. She wanted to meet up to talk.” He said. Buck could tell by the way your right eyebrow was raised and your eyes narrowed that you were not happy. “Really? And you went?” You asked. “Yeah.” Buck answered quietly. 

You laughed bitterly before walking around the counter back towards the stairs. “God, you just can’t seem to let her go, can you?” You started. “It’s been, what? Two years? Two years since she left you for her ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ experience and got engaged? And who was the one who never left your side? Me. It was me, Evan and even now, you can’t seem to realize how terrible she was to you. Face it, you were her midlife crisis and you fell in love with her and never fell back out. All while making me fall in love with you.” You finished. 

Sure you were a tad bit cruel, but it was what he needed to hear. No one wanting to be the one who had to pop his perfect bubble when it came to Abby. 

“I stayed with you when you were suing the department for christ sake! And I can’t do it anymore, Evan.” You added. There it was again. His dreaded first name. The name you never used unless you were beyond angry with him. And he hated hearing it come from your lips. “Y/N, what do you mean?” He asked. 

Fear was coursing through his body as he waited for you to finally leave him. After everything he put you through, Abby was the last straw. 

“I mean, maybe we should take a break. Until you figure out what it is you really want.” You answered. It wasn’t something you wanted nor did you think it would ever happen. “No. No, no, Y/N, don’t do this.” He begged, walking towards you. “I have too. Since she came back, this relationship has been one sided and I don’t deserve that.” You said. 

“Please, Y/N, I love you.” Buck told you. “Do you? Because you have a funny way of showing it.” You replied. You swiftly grabbed your keys and your purse and made a path towards the exit. “So this is it? You’re breaking up with me?” Buck asked, causing you to stop. 

“I don’t want to. But you seem to have unresolved feelings for Abby and you can’t claim to love one person wholeheartedly when you clearly don’t. Figure it out, Buck. But remember who was here when no one else was.” You answered before leaving the house. 

You didn’t know where else to go after you left. So you decided to go to Bobby and Athena’s. Bobby was like a father to you when you joined the 118 and you trusted him more than you trusted most people. 

After trying to straighten yourself up and wipe the tears from your face, you got out of the car and headed to the front door. You knocked a couple of times and waited for the door to open. 

When it did, Athena’s face softened when she saw you and instantly knew something was wrong. “Y/N? What’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, ushering you inside. “I didn’t know where else to go.” You answered. 

Bobby, wondering who was at the door, turned the corner and saw you standing in the entryway. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked. “Buck and I got into a fight. He went to meet up with Abby and he didn’t tell meand I just, I just don’t understand why he won’t let her go. Am I not enough?” You explained. 

Athena shushed you and pulled you into a hug to comfort you. She knew Buck was stubborn but not so much that you felt you had to leave. Bobby was furious. He hated seeing you so upset and he was frustrated with the young man for making you think you weren’t enough for him. 

After a few minutes, Athena made up the guest bedroom for you and said you could stay as long as you needed. But you hoped it wouldn’t have to be for long. 

__

Bobby arrived at the station in search for Buck and found him sulking while Hen and Chimney were grilling him about his mood. “What’s wrong with you today?” Chimney asked. “Him and Y/N got in a fight last night and she walked out on him.” Bobby answered for him. 

Buck looked up at his captain with wide eyes, wondering how he knew about the prior events. “She stayed at mine and Athena’s last night.” He added. Buck let out a sigh of relief, mainly because he was worried sick about you. You didn’t answer a single one of his calls or texts and he didn’t know where you went off to. 

“Why did she walk out on you?” Hen asked. “Because I may have went to meet up with Abby the other day. And apparently I had been acting distant towards Y/N and she confronted me.” Buck explained. “Seriously? You still have feelings for Abby?” Hen asked. “No, Hen-” Buck tried to explain but was interrupted by his coworkers. 

“Y/N is the perfect girl for you and you’re throwing her away for someone who left you?” She continued. “Hen,” Buck started. “You’re stupid but not this stupid.” She said. “Hen! I don’t have feelings for Abby anymore. I wanted to give her a chance to explain why she left and to thank her. Because if she wouldn’t have left, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.” Buck interrupted. 

“And I,” He started before he stopped himself, not sure if he wanted to tell everyone his secret. “You what?” Eddie asked. Buck looked up at his friends before sighing. “I bought a ring.” He answered. “Wait, what?” Chimney asked. “I bought a ring. I was going to propose but then I got all in my head after Abby showed up. I thought Y/N would say no and she’d leave me just like Abby did.” Buck explained. 

The rest of the 118 crew was silent as they looked down at Buck. Hen sat down across from him before speaking. “That girl is head over heels in love with you, Buck. She has been since the first time she met you and the last thing she would do is leave you like Abby did. Though, because of Abby, she felt she had no choice.” She said. 

“I need to get her back. I didn’t even know what to do this morning without her.” Buck said. “When does she come in for her shift?” He asked Bobby. “She was supposed to be here by now. She left before me.” The man answered. 

Before anyone could form a theory about your whereabouts, the bell went off signaling they had a call. 

They soon arrived to the scene of a car accident, one car completely flipped upside down. 

The 118 stopped short, however, when they noticed who’s car was upside down. It was yours that was hit by a guy texting and driving and ran a red light. 

“Y/N?” Buck called, running to the driver side door. “Buck, you’re too close to this.” Bobby stopped him. “We’re all too close to this, Bobby.” Buck rebutted. Bobby looked at Athena and gestured for her to keep Buck away from the scene. “Keep him away from her.” He instructed his. wife. 

Eddie began trying to get the door off and Hen and Chimney noticed you were still conscious, struggling to get out and stay awake. 

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Hen asked. “Yeah. I-I can hear you.” You stammered. “I have a piece of shrapnel between the third and fourth intercostal space. Mild to severe concussion and around three broken ribs, and a possible pulmonary contusion.” You told them. 

Both EMTs were surprised that you could still diagnose and recognize your symptoms while having a concussion and actively bleeding. 

Once the door was off the car, Hen and Chimney set down the backboard and Eddie began cutting your seatbelt. 

“Where’s Buck?” You asked him. “Bobby won’t let him help. He’s too close to this one.” Eddie answered. “Aren’t you all though?” You joked. Eddie laughed dryly as the seatbelt was cut free. “Can you move?” He asked. 

You looked down at the piece of metal from the seat and back up at him. “You have to pull it out.” You told him. “Y/N,” Eddie started. “Eddie, you have to pull it out or I won’t be able to move. I have a concussion, I’m already bleeding and in about five minutes I’m going to pass out. I will slowly bleed out from the inside if I don’t move. Pull the damn thing out.” You snapped. 

Eddie looked at you for a moment before glancing over at Buck, arguing with Athena. As Eddie pulled the piece of metal out of your side, Buck broke free of Athena’s grasp and fell to his friend’s side. 

“Y/N, baby, are you okay?” He asked frantically. “I’m going to pass out in a couple of seconds so I’m sorry, Buck. For what happened last night.” You spoke, your breathing becoming shallower. “Buck we gotta move her.” Eddie told him. 

Your eyes fell closed slowly and the heart rate monitor attached to you started beeping rapidly. “We gotta get her out now.” Hen instructed. Bobby pulled Buck back as he watched in horror while his friends began giving you CPR once they pulled you from the car.

Your heart beat thankfully went back to normal and Chimney and Hen loaded you into the back of the ambulance. 

Buck took the liberty of joining you considering he was your emergency contact, having no other family in LA.

Once the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Buck, Chimney and Hen were forced to stay at the ER bay, not being allowed to go with you. 

Buck watched as the doctors took you away and this quickly became his worst nightmare. What if you didn’t make it? What if the last conversation you had was a fight? 

Bobby’s hand rested on Buck’s shoulder as they all watched you disappear down the hallway. 

__

It had been hours. Hours of the 118 sitting in the waiting room for you to come out of surgery. Buck was a nervous wreck and no amount of consoling from Maddie or Eddie made it any better. He knew she should have told you about meeting with Abby but he was afraid of ruining everything. But not telling you made it ten times worse. 

“Evan Buckley?” A doctor called, alerting the entire crew. “Th-That’s me. I’m Evan Buckley.” Buck replied. “Y/N is going to be okay. We repaired the damage to her lung as well as the other internal damage she received from the car crash. She still had a major concussion and she’ll be out of commission for a while, but she got incredibly lucky.” The doctor explained. 

Buck let out a very visible sigh of relief, as did everyone else. “Can I see her?” Buck asked. “She’s in the ICU so only a couple of people at a time.” The doctor said. “You go, Buck. We’ll see her when she’s moved to a normal room.” Bobby told him. 

He nodded his head and followed the doctor to your room. He saw you lying in the hospital bed, multiple IVs in your hands and arms and an oxygen tube in your nose. 

Your eyes were still closed but he could tell you were awake, though hearing the doctor’s voice alerted you. 

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you.” You turned your head slightly and saw Buck standing in the doorway. “Hi.” You said quietly, your voice still hoarse from the breathing tube in surgery. 

Buck sat in the chair next to you, his eyes red and watering. “I am so sorry, Y/N,” He whispered. “I should have told you about Abby but I met with her to get closure. And to thank her because if she wouldn’t have left me, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” He added. 

“It’s okay. I should have let you explained.” You replied. “I have something else to tell you.” Buck said. “Oh no, now what?” You joked. “I bought a ring.” He said. “Like, a ring ring?” You questioned. “Yes, a ring ring.” Buck laughed. “Where is it?” You asked.

Buck let go of your hand for a moment and fished the piece of jewelry out of his pocket.

“You have to put it on for me.” You said. Buck looked at you in disbelief as he smiled, sliding the ring on your left finger. “I’m assuming that’s a yes.” He said. “Of course it is. I’d be stupid to say no to you.” You told him with a smile.

Buck squeezed your hand gently as he looked at the ring on your finger. “I never want to come that close to losing you ever again.” He muttered. “You won’t. I don’t plan on leaving you for a long time.” You said. “Good. Because I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Buck said. 

He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead as you looked down at the ring. “You did a good job.” You commented. Buck laughed at your comment, causing a smile to grace your face. “Hen and Maddie helped.” He said. “I figured as much.” You replied. 

The rest of the evening, or whatever time of day you thought it was, Buck stayed by your side. Even when the doctors were running their tests and looking over your condition. After almost losing you, there was no way you were going to get rid of Buck even for a moment. 

[helloprettybb]

slip of the tongue

i love bucky with all my heart. that’s it.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky doesn’t really like you. but a night alone and a stab wound may change his opinion.

warnings: violence, bad description of action scene, heated kissing??? not smut but implied

word count: 1.9k

Bucky hates you. It isn’t difficult seeing as you’re Stark’s daughter and every quality in the man is tenfold in you. You’re crazy smart and you aren’t afraid to show it. Perhaps your worst attribute is your arrogance since it’s justified most of the time. Bucky hates how you’re always right and the stupid smirk on your face when you outwit or outtalk someone.

He knows you can tell and that’s the worst part. It seems you do everything in your power to irk him even more. Like trying to talk to him every time he enters the room or asking for every excruciating detail for any minor event. You get on his nerves and nothing could change that.

The team left for a mission this morning so it’s just you and Bucky at the Compound. After doing nothing all day, Bucky decides to go for an afternoon run. He doesn’t listen to music, as he enjoys the sounds of the city between the mindless chatter and the speeding cars, it reminds him of his youth.

Towards the end of his run, Bucky starts toward the Compound when his ears pick up a yell. Going towards the noise, he spots three men assaulting a woman. She tries her best to hold them off, but she is greatly outnumbered and outmatched by the three, burly men.

Bucky springs into action and grabs the man whose hands are around the woman’s throat. Yanking him off easily, Bucky shoves the man to the ground with a force that was probably harder than necessary, but he doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse as he moves his attention to the two other attackers. He grabs the second man, who is slightly shorter than the first and punches him square in the jaw. He releases the woman and stumbles back. The third man lands a few punches on him, but they barely phase Bucky. While fighting off the last man, Bucky doesn’t notice the first guy get up. He also fails to notice the shiny knife in his hand before it’s too late. The man stabs Bucky in the side. Now Bucky’s pissed as he pushes the third man into the wall. He turns toward the man with the knife and knocks him out cold.

He looks around and realizes the woman must have run away. “Good.” he thinks, but only for a minute as he remembers that he got fucking stabbed. He groans as he applies pressure to the wound.

Bucky makes it back to the Compound, but the pain is getting worse. Stumbling inside, he heads for the labs to look for a medkit. But of course, since it’s his lucky day, you’re there, too. You’re probably finishing the project that you were talking about for the past few weeks - something about particles accelerating, but Bucky didn’t care enough to ask. He hopes he can slip by unnoticed, but the gaping hole in his side draws attention to him.

Your head snaps up from your work and you see Bucky hobble by. “Heya Buck,” you start in your usual playful manner. But when you look at the state he’s in, your attitude changes immediately, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing.” he grumbles. You look down and see that he’s holding his side. His sweatshirt and fingers are covered in blood.

“Bullshit.” you say. Moving around the lab, you quickly find the medkit. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your-”

“Shut up and sit down.” you interrupt. Bucky’s protests stop as he sits down on one of the stools. You pull up a chair and open the kit.

“Y’know this will probably heal by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it can’t heal if you bleed to death.” you retort. While the injury most likely won’t kill him, your point still stands. “Can I?” you motion to his hand. He removes his hand and you quickly pull his sweatshirt up to treat the wound. Luckily it’s a shallow stab wound and the gauze you put on is enough to stop him from bleeding out. As you continue to apply the gauze, you have to force yourself to not get distracted by his defined abs and focus all your attention on the wound. Your fingers trace over his stomach and he jumps slightly.

“Sorry,” you mutter. Your hands must be freezing from being down in the lab for so long. Once you finish applying the gauze, you say, “There, all done.” You look up at Bucky and are unable to read his expression. It causes you both to fall into an awkward silence. “So,” you say to clear the air, “How’d this happen?”

“Some guys were attacking this woman. Didn’t know one of them had a knife.” He responds gruffly. You nod in understanding.

You finish patching him up and say, “If you need anything like extra bandages or a beer, just come to me.” Bucky simply nods, unsure what to make of that proposition. He begins to leave awkwardly and almost makes it out of the lab before something in him makes him turn back.

He pops his head in and says, “You said something about beer?”

-

Bucky doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care. He’s on his fourth beer, but he can’t get drunk so it doesn’t really matter. It’s funny because one beer turned into two and then three and now he’s found himself in a full-on conversation with you. And the most surprising part is that it’s delightful.

Behind your arrogance and quick judgments, you’re really funny. He knew you were smart, that wasn’t a surprise, but talking to you more changed his opinion of you.

“So, Buck.” Usually, that nickname didn’t get to him but a healing stab wound and a couple of beers will change anyone’s perception.

“What?” he asks.

“Got any lucky girl?” He scoffs at that and you look shocked. “What? It was simply a question.”

“It wasn’t the question, doll.” Since when did he call you doll? Just a slip of the tongue, he supposes. “It was the fact that I’d even have someone.” he says honestly.

“What do you mean? You’re a good-looking guy, just over one hundred. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. Damn, you’re growing on him.

“I’m serious!” you exclaim. Your left arm is on the couch and your hand is leaning against your hand. He realizes this is the closest you’ve been besides before when you were tending to his stab wound. “You’re a catch, Buck. What stops all the ladies from falling all over you?”

He rolls his eyes at you again whether at your persistence or wording. “I’m a bad guy, doll.” There it is again.

“That’s not true,” you scoff. Taking a sip from your beer, you casually add, “Besides, I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones,” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that. “Come on, Buck. I’ve liked you for a pretty long time. I thought I made it quite obvious.”

“By annoying the hell outta me?” He jokes.

“Hey, I was just trying to talk to you. Although I know I can come across as….”

“Annoying.” he says back. You give him a look that makes him laugh and soon a smile spreads across your face.

“I actually do care about you. But, I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m happy just being friends.” Bucky thinks it over for a moment. Just this morning he was thinking about how you bothered the hell out of him. Actually, the more that he thinks about it, he realizes that he never really hated you. Did Bucky like you all along? He’s about to reply when the elevator doors open.

“Oh, you’re back?” you turn to greet the team.

“Hey, what are you doing up so late with Bucky?” Your dad eyes the two of you suspiciously.

You catch onto what he’s implying and assure him, “We’re just hanging out. In fact, I was just heading to my room. See you tomorrow.” You say a quick goodbye and leave before anyone could say anything.

They all turn to Bucky, ready to attack him with questions. “I’m going to head up, too.” Bucky quickly exits. He catches up to you, although he definitely didn’t mean to. Curse his long legs.

“Oh, hey,” you say as he enters the sleeping quarters.

“Hey,” he says. Fuck it, mind as well try it. “So, about the friend thing.”

You wince, “You don’t want to be friends.” You seem a little hurt by it, “I get it, you don’t really like me. It’s not like I can force you, too. And especially after I basically confessed to liking you as more than a friend, I could see how a potential friendship wouldn’t sound too appealing.” You’ve never looked this uneasy. He’s used to seeing you so confident and assured, but this was new.

Bucky lets you finish rambling before he replies, “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh.” He laughs a little, finally shutting you up. He moves closer, but you stay still. You both can tell what’s about to happen, yet neither is making a motion to stop it.

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You look like you’re trying to play it cool and contain your excitement, but Bucky sees you bite your lip like you’re trying to stop your smile from spreading.

“So…” You start like you’re thinking long and hard about what you’re about to say, “Can I kiss you?” You’re adorable. Bucky takes one last step and pulls you into a kiss.

Your lips are soft against his. Beyond the taste of beer, Bucky picks up some… he swipes his tongue over your bottom lip… cherry lipgloss. He’ll never get sick of the taste of cherries. He thought it’d be a sweet, innocent kiss but when you grab at his back, trying to hold him as close as possible, he knows it’s anything but. You kiss him hungrily as if your life depends on it and Bucky eagerly accepts. He muffles your moans and gasps and thinks about how nice those sounds will be echoed in his bedroom.

Bucky moves you so that your back is against the wall. You moan as his hands trail down your sides and onto your ass. His hands go under your thighs and you jump so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Bucky catches you and pins you between himself and the wall.

Your hands go up to his hair and play with a few strands before pulling lightly. He groans at that, separating from your lips and throwing his head back. With his neck exposed, you trail kisses up and down his throat. Sucking and biting occasionally and making Bucky go crazy.

Two can play at that game, he thinks. He reconnects your lips to kiss you again and starts grinding his hips into you. Your hands go to his back and start scratching against his shirt.

Before this could go any further, Bucky pulls away and asks, “My room?”

And you smile, “Fuck yeah.”

[lovelybarnes]

reckless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson, platonic!natasha romanoff, platonic!steve rogers

warnings: mentions of injuries, descriptions of fighting, angry bucky, a horrible ending, i kind of really hate this

about: “the things i feel for her are unlike anything i’ve ever felt before.” for a sleepover!

i actually wrote another one with the same quote but i didn’t think it fit so i changed it (that one will be posted tomorrow or the day after so i can edit it)

you’re annoyingly reckless to a point where it gets dangerous.

he’s told you this a thousand times before but you don’t listen- aren’t listening at the moment.

he knows it’s ironic that he’s being reckless by not paying attention to what’s going on, too concentrated on you- even if you’ve told him countless times that you literally can’t die (to which he responds with a “you never know!” because, really do you?)- but he has a metal arm and sam, who’s been hovering around him like a vulture after noticing his lack of concentration.

before he can react to it, a slimy arm is promptly cut off by you, the blade you threw now back in your hands and stained green with the things’ blood. you scowl at it and shoot him a dirty look, “pay fucking attention!” you demand, shaking the weapon haphazardly to get the goo off. he can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth but rolls his eyes and obeys, knocking an ugly alien down and crushing its chest with his boot.

he can still hear your cocky remarks and giggles- yes, giggles, you giggle when you fight life threatening menaces- paired with the gross sounds of your knife impaling the aliens they’re fighting. it’s the only thing keeping him from practically babysitting you, a reassurance that you’re there, careless and impetuous, but alive and close.

suddenly, he can’t hear you, and he turns to what he quite possibly believes to be the most disgusting thing he’s seen in his life (and it’s been a long one, so far). you’re blue, covered in a slimy substance, and your face is so red, it’s beginning to look nearly purple with the cyan sheen over it. you screech abruptly, wiping at your face angrily and jumping at the thing that probably did that to you. he nearly feels pity for it. nearly, because, in your rage, you hadn’t even noticed the large gash along your shoulder. before he can go to you before you kill yourself, his metal arm feels like it’s being sucked, taking him with it, and he grunts. “what the fuck-” he manages, unsure of what he’s looking at, but trying to cut through the sticky arm attached to his own. you’re there in five seconds flat, still blue and still angry, which he notices makes the slicing through the appendage easier.

you seem to decide to stay with him after that, and he’s not sure if he’s offended because you don’t think he can take care of himself- which is ridiculous, since this only happened because he was taking care of you- or touched.

“god, i wish i had wanda’s powers. chaos magick works a lot faster than causing chaos,” you complain, trying to wipe away the blue sludge at the same time and wincing when it tugs at your injury. he is reminded of the shoulder wound he nearly got his arm ripped off for trying to warn you, and he stops your hand. “you’re bleeding, you should probably be a little more careful with this.” he motions to your arm, avoiding touching it.

you frown at him, “it’s fine, it’s just a little cut.” (it’s most certainly not a “little cut.”)

“y/n-”

you extend the hurt arm over him and flick your hands when you see an alien about to rip bucky’s head off, a grimace passing your face that he sees but you try to cover up anyways. “see? it hurts you, you need-”

“i just saved your life, would a hurt person be able to do that?” you cut him off, and he stares at you. noticing a green thing coming up behind you, he grabs your waist and moves you out of the way, shooting it with his gun and watching as it drops to the ground. “ow!” you protest, “you hurt my-” seeming to realize you’re about to prove him right, you shut up and roll your eyes. “you’re welcome,” bucky huffs, wiping away some of the blue stuff from your cheek.

your cheeks warm against his touch without your permission, and you turn away. bucky smirks at your reaction.

“shut up,” you grumble, extending your fingers and aiming at a group of the aliens ganging up on natasha. they freeze for the few seconds they’re under your control, and nat manages to take out two in the moment. the three left break out of the trance, turn to each other, and begin to fight. natasha makes eye contact with you in a form of thanks and starts to take the rest out. you hear a gun go off behind you and turn to see one of the things that sprayed you on the floor. bucky saved you again, great, it’s not like he’ll rub it in your face forever.

“you need to pay attention, what if i’m not here?” bucky scolds. “then never leave,” you flirt casually in response. with a few twirls of your finger, most of the aliens stop paying attention to your team and begin attacking their own teammates.

you don’t notice when one of the few unaffected beings picks up a discarded gun and shoots at you twice. bucky moves you away from a head shot, but one lands opposite to the bleeding slash on your shoulder, and the other hits your thigh.

“goddamnit, y/n, pay attention!” bucky growls, holding up your full weight when your adrenaline begins to run out and everything becomes blurry. “‘m fine,” you try to reassure, attempting to stand back on your wobbly legs. bucky doesn’t let you, shooting at as many aliens as he can with one gun. he turns to look at your state after he shoots most of them, allowing the others to take care of it while he tries to take care of you. his metal hand is touching the small device in his ear, telling the others the situation while his other arm holds you up. you might be delirious now, and your eyelids are becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. “hm, i’m not going to die, b’cky.” you tell him, noticing the increasing panic in his voice as he talks to steve. “stop saying that, how would you know if you haven’t died yet?”

his question is confusing for your foggy brain, so you decide to skip it, unknowingly making his worries worse. the blood running down your back isn’t stopping, and bucky stops for a second to lift you up completely, tucking his hand underneath your knees to carry you. at the tug at your thigh, you bite back a scream. bucky pretends not to notice; his hands are covered in a warm red. he’s trying his best to ignore it.

“don’t die,” bucky whispers again and again, making you frown, “how many times do i ‘ave to tell you i can’t die?”

“i’ll believe it when you don’t,” bucky mutters, and the blue sky turns to gray when he’s inside the quinjet. he sets you down on the medbay cot, looking lost as he calls out friday’s name. “yes, mister barnes?”

“y/n- uh-”

“do a scan on me and… and treat accordingly,” you interrupt. “scanning now,” friday obeys, and you turn to bucky. “by the time you figured it out i would have bled out.”

“that’s not funny, y/n,” bucky says seriously. you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, “calm down, i’ll be fine.” friday has enclosed you in some clear glass, red grids letting you know of your condition. “ooh, that’s bad,” you mumble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend. “what?” said boyfriend asks, and you wave him off as best you can- which means a pathetic bounce of your arm- and tell him to let friday do her thing. “we are not done here,” bucky instructs, but sits next to you and holds your hand. you can see his glossed eyes now, you wonder how you didn’t see them before.

“shouldn’t you be fighting?” you ask, a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. rest, your body begs. you’ll comply later. “they’re almost done, the chaos thing you did makes their job a lot easier.”

“‘s what i do,” you say breathily before falling asleep.

-

you’re still in the quinjet the next time you open your eyes, which lets you know it’s only been a few hours and you’re feeling better already. goddess healing, you think, looking around to see bucky’s hand still around yours. he looks worried, the hard lines usually softened by the sound of your voice as hard as you’ve ever seen them. you squeeze his fingers gently. “bucky,” you coo, “i’m not dying anymore.”

bucky turns to you immediately, squinting, “that’s not funny.” it’s like deja vu, but you’re not sure from where.

a vein on bucky’s neck throbs, and you’re aware that you’re pushing it, so you stop for a second, “i was just kidding, i-”

“no!-” bucky’s voice is near yelling, so he shuts his eyes for a moment, continuing in a lower voice, “you almost died, do you know how terrifying that is? you nearly bled out in my arms.” sam, nat and steve, who were waiting for you to wake up next to bucky, pause when he raises his voice. “bucky-” you start, softer now, trying to sit up. bucky stands, “listen to me!”

steve stands, beginning to put a hand on bucky’s shoulder, “buck-” he’s silenced with a cold look from bucky. sam gets to his feet too, telling steve and nat to give you both a minute. they do, after nat kisses your cheek like she always does when you get hurt. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed now, reaching for bucky, “bucky?”

“you don’t… you don’t know how much you scared me, y/n. you have to stop being so careless,” he says after a few seconds. you furrow your brows, “i’m not careless, i’m confident in my skills.”

“you are. you’re careless and reckless and hasty and i need you to not be,” he says harshly, you frown. “why? i’m fine and i’m always going to be-”

“you don’t- you don’t understand!-” bucky snaps. “then help me understand,” you implore. bucky closes his eyes tightly again, breathing in slowly. “the things... that i feel for you are unlike anything i have ever felt before, and i can’t- i can’t lose you, okay?”

“you’re not going to,” you assure, extending your arms towards him, noting the tiny ache in response. he walks over to you, letting you grab his jaw when he’s close, you run your fingers over his cheeks gently. “i’ll be more careful,” you promise. bucky nods, tucking his face into the dip of your neck. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, letting him squeeze your waist almost to reassure himself you’re actually there.

“hey,” you say quietly after a few moments, pressing tender kisses to bucky’s cheek, “sit down, i want to do something.” you stand, grabbing onto bucky’s arm when you stumble a little and promise him you’re fine and are taking it easy. you take out the first aid kit from one of the cabinets, setting it down next to bucky, opening it and taking out everything you need. you begin to clean his cuts, putting a pink hello kitty bandaid over one of his particularly bad ones. it’ll be gone within a day, but you can’t resist, and it makes him laugh.

you hum while you dab at a small scratch next to his eye, and he chuckles lowly, you look up at him, “what?”

“you’re still a little blue.”

[extasiswings]

15 + buddie

15. "Shouldn't you be with her?" On ao3 here.

When Eddie is eleven, his class gets a new student. Her name is Maria Esparza and her family is from Arizona. She has dark curls that look like they would be soft to touch and a smattering of freckles across her nose and she’s so smart—always reading and forever raising her hand in class, always with the right answers—but she never acts stuck up about it.

He thinks she’s beautiful and when he gets home from the first day of school he promptly announces that he’s in love. He doesn’t understand why his mother laughs or why Sophia rolls her eyes and calls him an idiot when he’s perfectly serious.

He’s in love, he insists, and goes on believing it for three whole weeks until he gets up the courage to give Maria a flower at recess and she looks at him like he has two heads. The rejection smarts for a couple of days, but then he’s fine. So, he figures...maybe it wasn’t love after all.

Eddie is fifteen when he finds his eyes slipping too frequently to Diego Reed in autoshop, lingering on the other boy’s long, dexterous fingers, his forearms, the sharp edge of his jaw. Eddie can’t explain it, he just knows those stolen glances make him squirm, make him flush, make him feel too warm and like his very skin is too tight.

Diego steals Eddie’s first kiss two weeks before winter break, pushes him up against the back wall of the shop where they’re hidden by a truck and licks into his mouth with a confidence that Eddie can’t imagine ever having when he himself can’t even figure out what to do with his hands. But it makes his knees weak and leaves him breathless and panting when Diego pulls away with a smirk and tells him not to say anything.

It’s not love—for one thing, Eddie knows he’s not supposed to love boys, and for another, the only time he suggests it might be anything at all, Diego gives him the same look Maria had once upon a time and walks away—but it’s nothing he’s ever felt before. The next year, Angelica Phelan asks him to go to the winter formal and he gets to second base in the science lab when they slip away from the chaperones. It’s different from kissing Diego. But it’s just as good, he enjoys it just as much, and part of him is…relieved.

He doesn’t think about that too much.

Eddie is eighteen when he’s not watching where he’s going and runs directly into his future on the sidewalk. Thankfully, the only casualty is Shannon’s coffee, and after she snaps at him for not paying attention and he offers to replace her drink—well. They close down the coffee shop, emerging, startled, from conversation only when interrupted by a mildly disgruntled employee trying to lock up. Eddie walks home in a daze, Shannon’s phone number burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s simultaneously elated and terrified because it’s never been so easy being with someone, he’s never felt so seen so quickly. He’s old enough to realize that love at first sight is bullshit, but he thinks he could fall very fast.

He’s right.

They take things slow because Eddie wants to do things right, doesn’t want to risk confusing love with the heady cocktail of teenage hormones and sex. So he knows by the time he does fall into bed with her, eight months in, that he’s in love. Really in love, thinking about the future in love, factoring her into the mix when he thinks about what the hell he’s going to do with his life in love.

And then Shannon gets pregnant. And it’s too soon, he loves her but it’s too soon, and he’s terrified all over again—

He loves her though. He loves her. And she’s pregnant so—they get married. He wants to do the right thing.

At their wedding the readings are selections from Song of Songs and Corinthians.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud....Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things...

With all due respect to St. Paul, Eddie doesn’t think he knew what the hell he was talking about. Or at least, maybe he did, but he was being pretty damn aspirational and left out a few things.

Because after the wedding…after the wedding, Eddie learns a lot more about love.

Love is beautiful, yes. But love is also…trying to do the right thing and fucking up. Love is fighting and knowing exactly what to say to cut the deepest and not always holding back. Love is forgiving, but after a point finding it difficult to forget.

Or maybe that’s not love, maybe that’s just marriage. Maybe it’s a little of both. Because love endures—sure. Love endured with Shannon even when trust was nonexistent, when their marriage was fractured, shattered pieces strewn across the floor ready to draw blood if either of them tried to pick them up.

Love isn’t enough. That’s what Eddie knows. Or maybe it is, maybe love would have been enough to fix what was broken if it hadn’t been his. Shannon’s gone, so they’ll never be able to have that conversation. He’ll never know the answer.

Love endures. Eddie kind of wishes it didn’t. It would make a lot of things a lot easier.

But…it’s fine. He’s fine. Shannon dies and he locks that piece of himself away and has no plans to ever fall in love again.

Then again, God has a funny sense of humor and never seems to resist an opportunity to be an asshole, so of course…he does. Slowly. Quietly. The threads slipping through the cracks in his walls so carefully that he doesn’t even notice until they’re twined around his heart, unspooling through his blood, through his veins with every pulse. Eddie doesn’t notice.

And then he gets shot and it’s like being hit by lightning, an electric shock of clarity down his spine, rooting him in place as he meets Buck’s eyes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

***

Eddie despises recovery.

He’s never been good at being still, at being useless, at being left alone with nothing but his own head. And maybe he’s not entirely alone—he has Christopher, after all, and Christopher is understandably a little clingy now that he’s home from the hospital—but Christopher sleeps and has play dates and spends time in his room and just in general isn’t in Eddie’s space every second of every day.

And then there’s Buck. Buck who offered to keep staying on the couch to take care of everything they needed when Eddie came home from the hospital. Buck who Eddie sent home to his own bed with promises to call if he needed help because having Buck so close after Eddie’s little realization was stirring him up, making everything a million times more difficult in his head. Buck’s still over frequently, but it’s less dangerous if he’s not staying overnight, if Eddie can’t wake up and be tempted to walk out to the living room and pull Buck into his bed. Not for anything sexual—he’s on too many medications and too immobilized for that even if it was remotely a good idea—but to be held. To feel wanted. To feel safe.

He knows Buck probably wouldn’t say no, wouldn’t think anything of it except that maybe he’s a little raw and fragile, which he is. Which is exactly why he can’t ask. So. Removing the temptation it is.

But. Being left alone with his own head is a terrible idea. He’s in pain because he lowered the doses of his pain meds so he would stop worrying about developing any dependency. He can’t sleep without waking up with screams trapped behind his teeth and the smell of blood and gunpowder in his nose. And he can’t stop thinking about Buck. About being in love with Buck. About wanting Buck. About whether he could ever have him or whether he’ll ever be okay enough to be in a relationship. About whether Buck could ever want him back or if he’ll ever feel safe enough to risk their friendship by even asking.

He broke up with Ana the second he was able to figure out how to do it without feeling like a complete dick. But he hasn’t told Buck that. He doesn’t know why.

And then there’s—

The key turns in the lock and Eddie starts, looking up from his place on the couch. Christopher is with his abuela for the night, and he didn’t expect—

“Hey,” Buck calls, stepping through the door. “I brought dinner.”

Eddie stares.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, before he can stop himself. “Shouldn’t you be with Taylor?”

—Taylor. Buck and Taylor. Which, Buck waited weeks to tell him about, hedging about why he wanted to know if it was okay to invite her to Eddie’s welcome home party. Which, Buck only did admit to when Eddie called one night at 2AM and Taylor answered Buck’s phone.

Eddie clears his throat, the question sounding a little too sharp and accusatory to his ears.

“I just meant,” he adds, softening, “I thought you said you had a date tonight.”

An odd look passes over Buck’s face.

“Isabel called me,” he replies. “She said you were by yourself, asked if I would check on you. We rescheduled, it’s fine.”

Eddie nods once and pulls the couch throw tighter around his shoulders with his good arm. A petty, possessive piece of him is pleased. That Buck’s there. That Buck would drop everything for him.

He’s always been wary of Taylor. Even way back when they first met and she was prowling around the station filming everyone and flirting with Buck. But now? Now he’s jealous, his stomach twisting at the very reminder that she has Buck the way Eddie wants him.

But at the same time…he hates that. Hates the jealousy, hates feeling possessive. Because what claim does he have over Buck’s affections? None. Especially not when he can’t even admit to loving him outside his head.

He hates it because he knows that more than anything, Buck deserves to be happy. And maybe Eddie could make him happy, but—

Even if Buck felt the same—and Eddie isn’t convinced of that, doesn’t have the arrogance to assume—what right does he have to say please, to say wait, to ask Buck to put his life on hold indefinitely while Eddie sorts through the tangled mess in his head in the hope that one day he’ll finally be ready? He can’t be that selfish. Especially not with Buck.

Buck deserves to be happy. Even if that’s with Taylor Kelly. Even if it means Eddie loses him.

He doesn’t get to be jealous.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Eddie replies quietly. “I’m fine.”

Buck sets the bag in his arms down on the coffee table.

“You don’t look fine,” he points out. “Actually, you look like shit. Isabel was right to call me.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie repeats. His heart pangs at the concern in Buck’s eyes. “Really, it’s okay—you should—you should—”

Go. Call Taylor back. Enjoy your date.

He wants to do the right thing. He really does. But the rest of the words refuse to leave his throat.

Buck shakes his head anyway. “I’m not going anywhere,” he insists. “So tell me what’s going on. How can I help?”

Eddie bites his lip. Drags his hand over his jaw before making a face. The messy, overgrown scruff is itchy and difficult to manage on his own, and the foreignness of it doesn’t help him feel grounded in his own body when he wakes up gasping in the middle of the night.

“It’s stupid,” he says.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Buck replies. “And I’m here, so you might as well just talk.”

I’m in love with you, Eddie thinks. And I can’t sleep. And I can’t shave. And everything hurts. And I just want to stop being afraid—

He swallows. He can’t say all of that. He can’t blow everything up that way.

So, he picks the easiest one.

“I can’t shave with my left hand and it’s driving me insane.”

Buck blinks. Then he laughs as the worry in his brow smooths out.

“That’s it?” He asks. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that. Come on.”

And that’s how Eddie winds up sitting on the bathroom counter with shaving cream all over his face while Buck wets a razor and steps between his legs.

His breath catches.

“You good?” Buck asks, his voice low. His eyes are soft and focused, and Eddie almost regrets everything because the proximity—god, the proximity. He’s been so cold since the shooting and Buck is so warm, heat spreading through Eddie’s body from every discrete point of contact. Buck tips his chin back and Eddie lets his eyes slip closed.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m good.”

The razor drags along his skin. Neither of them say a word, the main sound in the room the drip of the faucet when Buck rinses the razor between passes. They’ve always been physical with each other, but this sort of thing is new. Intimate.

Eddie aches.

His eyes open a crack to watch. Buck’s lower lip is caught between his teeth, and having every ounce of that focus on him is…intoxicating.

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Buck steps in closer, Eddie’s legs spread ever so slightly wider. A spark of heat flashes through him and he inhales sharply—Buck’s startled enough that his hand slips and the razor nicks Eddie’s jaw.

“Shit,” Buck swears. The razor clatters into the sink. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Eddie opens his eyes the rest of the way. “It’s fine,” he assures. “What, you think I’ve never cut myself shaving before? It’s still better than I would have managed myself.”

“I’m—” Buck looks stricken, his fingers reaching out to gently cradle Eddie’s jaw only for him to snatch them back almost instantly, the tip of one faintly smeared with blood. His hand trembles.

“Buck,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s eyes are fixed on the red smear and Eddie is sent back—

Watching his blood splash across Buck’s face and not realizing at first that it was his. Being half-delirious on the way to the hospital worrying that Buck had been hurt—

All this time, Buck’s been moving forward, pushing ahead, for Christopher, for him, for everyone, and Eddie knew he wasn’t entirely okay, knew he was fucked up from the moment in the hospital when he said I think it would have been better if I was the one who got shot, but since Eddie’s been home, Buck has seemed…better.

Maybe not. Maybe he’s been struggling to pretend as much as Eddie has.

Eddie twists around to grab the towel draped over the faucet and wets it enough to wash the rest of the shaving cream off his face, feels the sting of soap and water in the cut. And then he reaches out to grab Buck’s hand, wiping the blood off of his finger.

There’s something profane about blood staining skin. And something sacred in the act of washing it clean.

Eddie wonders if anyone helped Buck wash his blood off when he was in surgery. Taylor, maybe.

But no, that doesn’t feel right.

Buck probably did it himself. Alone.

“Hey.” Eddie squeezes Buck’s fingers. When Buck doesn’t look at him, he reaches out and curls his hand around the side of Buck’s neck, tips Buck’s chin up with his thumb to force him to meet his eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay. No harm done.”

Buck breathes out shakily. His throat works, his face passes through a million stages—finally, his hands fall to the counter on either side of Eddie’s hips and his forehead drops to Eddie’s good shoulder. Eddie lets his hand slip around to the back of Buck’s neck, his fingers combing up through the short hairs there. He turns his head and he’s close enough to kiss the side of Buck’s, but he holds off. It feels like it would be too much. Too much when Buck doesn’t know how he really feels, what he really wants. But even just this—the closeness, the touch—is good. Needed. A balm to the itch under his skin.

When Buck turns his face into Eddie’s neck and inhales, Eddie thinks maybe Buck might need this just as badly.

“I’m okay,” he repeats, closing his eyes again as his fingers comb through Buck’s hair. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

They stay like that for a long time. Buck’s phone rings out once, but neither of them moves to answer it. Eventually, Buck lifts his head and clears his throat roughly as he steps back.

Eddie’s hand falls away from Buck’s neck. He feels the absence keenly.

“You good?” He asks. Buck nods. His eyes are red.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. He pauses. Shakes his head. “No. But—can we just—can I just finish this for now? I want to finish this.”

Eddie watches him for a moment. Wets his lips. Then finally nods and passes over the shaving cream again.

“Sure,” he says. “I trust you.”

I love you.

Maybe…maybe eventually he’ll be braver. Maybe eventually, both of them will be free at the same time and he’ll be whole and healed, or at least something closer to it than he is now. Maybe eventually…love will be enough. Maybe.

For now, he has this.

[milenadaniels]

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.

[mmvalentine]

On His Knees | Feysand

Canon divergent. Scene lift from ACOSF. Smut aplenty. This is a little oneshot I wrote for @asteria-of-mars after we shared a rant. For you darling x

“Sit down,” Rhys snarled.

The raw command in that voice, the utter dominance and power… Nesta froze, fighting it, hating that Fae part of her that bowed to such things.

Rhys said, “You are going to stay. You are going to listen.”

She let out a low laugh. “You’re not my High Lord. You don’t give me orders.” But she knew how powerful he was. Had seen it, felt it. Still trembled to be near him.

Rhys scented that fear. One side of his mouth curled up in a cruel smile. “You want to go head-to-head, Nesta Archeron?” he purred. The High Lord of the Night Court gestured to the sloping lawn beyond the windows. “We’ve got plenty of space out there for a brawl.”

Nesta bared her teeth, silently roaring at her body to obey her orders. She’d sooner die than bow to him. To any of them.

Rhys’s smile grew, well aware of that fact.

“That’s enough,” Feyre snapped at Rhys. “I told you to keep out of it.”

He dragged his star-flecked eyes to his mate. Feyre angled her head, nostrils flaring, and said to Rhysand, “You can either leave, or you can stay and keep your mouth shut.”

Rhys again crossed his arms, but said nothing.

"I want to speak to my sister. Alone," Nesta ordered. "We'll be in the hall," he said.

Cassian's fist tightened at the implied insult that they didn't trust her enough to go further than that. From the way Feyre's jaw tightened, he suspected she wasn't pleased at the subtle jab. Rhys would be getting the verbal beating he deserved later.

*

Rhys paced back and forth in their bedroom while he waited for Feyre to return. Nesta had gone with Cassian fifteen minutes ago, but he still hadn't seen his mate.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she burst through the door.

"What the hell was that?" she hissed. "We talked about this. You agreed you could either be respectful or keep quiet." "I was as respectful as she was," Rhys said evenly. "You challenged her to a brawl, and then stood outside the door like a gods damned sentry!" "You know what she is capable of," Rhys said coldly, anger and fear still tugging at his gut at the thought of leaving Feyre alone with Nesta. "She is not our enemy, Rhys!" Feyre exploded. "We aren't trying to trap her, we're trying to help her, Cauldron damn you! How are we supposed to get her to trust us if she thinks we don't trust her?"

"Trust her?" Rhys repeated, appalled. "I don't trust her as far as I can spit. She and that other sister of yours-" "What the hell did Elain do?" Feyre interrupted. "Nothing," Rhys seethed. "She sat back and did nothing for years because Nesta was perfectly pleasant to her, and it did not benefit her to stand up for you or lift a finger to help. Meanwhile, Nesta tore you down year after year and practically dragged your family to its grave. Now here she is in our house, telling you it's somehow your fault that she's here even though you have yet again saved her miserable life-"

"That is enough, Rhysand. That is so far out of line." Feyre stood with her back straight, eyes blazing. Every bit his even match, every bit his High Lady.

"I know you don't like her," she stated, her voice clipped. "Either of them. But we are going to help them. I will not abandon Nesta, or Elain." "I didn't say abandon-" “They’re my sisters, Rhys,” Feyre reprimanded him. “They’re your abusers, Feyre!” he roared back.

They just stood there for a minute, breathing hard into the silence. Feyre shook her head.

“I know. But they're my family. And I love them.”

All the anger blew out of Rhys, then. He dropped to his knees in front of her. Fell on the mountains tattooed there. “But I love you,” her said. Hoarsely. Desperately. “And I can’t… I can’t see you get hurt anymore.” He leaned his head against her belly. "I just can't."

Feyre sighed, and pushed her hands through his blue-black hair.

"I know. But Rhys, imagine if I told you to turn your back on Cassian. Or Azriel. Or Mor. Imagine if I told you I could not forgive Amren the atrocities she committed before she was Fae."

Rhys's hands stroked their way up her calves, up the backs of her thighs and hugged her to him.

"If they hurt one hair on your head, I would."

Feyre gave him a look that was equal parts exasperation, and love. "You would, wouldn't you?" she murmured, ruefully.

Rhys groaned into her stomach. "I'm sorry, Feyre. I'm sorry."

Feyre ran her fingers over his scalp. "I'm still mad at you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Rhys repeated. He kissed across her hips, along the tops of her thighs. Then he looked up at her with violet eyes like chasms. "It's doesn't matter what I think. You're my High Lady and I will follow wherever you lead. My beloved. My queen. My mate."

At the last, he nipped at her stomach with his teeth. Feyre's hands tightened in his hair.

"Well I would like it if you at least tried to empathise with my sisters," she said. "And if I can't?" Rhys asked. His eyes pleaded. Feyre sighed.

"Then you're going to need to get good at apologising."

Rhys lifted her sweater then, and pressed open mouthed kisses to the exposed skin there. "I can do that," he said. Moved his hands up to cup her ass as he sank down lower on his knees, his lips trailing downward.

"I'm sorry, Feyre," he whispered. A kiss on her navel. "I'm sorry." A kiss at her waistband. Rhys vanished her clothes with a thought.

"I'm sorry." And then he put his mouth over her and slid his tongue up the hot centre of her. Feyre gasped, and her hands landed on his shoulders. Rhys walked her back toward the bed, sat her down on the edge and then pushed her to lie back. Lifted her legs onto his shoulders and then put his mouth on her again.

Feyre arched her back, and pulled him closer with her legs. Rhys's hands gripped her thighs tighter, and his tongue worked her in broad strokes. Up and down, savouring every part of her.

"Who do you go to your knees for?" Feyre breathed. Rhys lifted his mouth from her, only to plunge two fingers deep inside her.

"Only you," he replied, and then sucked her clit into his mouth. Feyre bucked her hips off the bed, and Rhys moaned in response. The sound vibrated against her where his lips moved over the heat of her.

"Who do you yield to?" Feyre gasped. Rhys sped up his fingers, his own breathing coming fast with his arousal.

"Only you," he repeated, and flicked his tongue fast over her clit. Feyre started to move, matching her hips to his rhythm.

"Who..." Feyre's breathing caught then, and Rhys surged up and over her, covering her body with his as his fingers kept fucking into her, his thumb now moving over her clit to replace his tongue.

"Always you, always only you," he said onto her lips, and then kissed until her climax broke over his hand.

Rhys watched the wave build and and break in her eyes, and then pressed kisses to her jaw as it receded. Then he linked his fingers through hers where they were resting above her head, and put his face in her neck.

"Am I forgiven, Feyre darling?" he asked softly.

"Not even slightly," Feyre replied, then rolled on top of him, vanished his clothes with her own magic, and rode his cock until he begged for mercy.

And so began the High Lord's apologies.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose @positivewitch @feysand-babies

[slutforbuck]

Where've You Been? -- Bucky Barnes x Reader

I started this the day after TFAWS episode 2 came out, and I just finished it tonight. It's not the best, but I hated leaving it not done.

Tears crowded your eyes as you watched the man on TV. John Walker. The “new” Cap is what they called him. Turning off the TV, you glanced down at your phone to see a message from Sam. “I didn’t know that they would do this.” You smiled softly, knowing that Sam was just doing what he thought was right. No-one could replace Steve, especially not this man. You went back through your messages, seeing a text you had sent Bucky earlier that morning. Should I? No..I’m sure he’s seen it..I don’t need to bother him again. You sighed, wishing he would at least call you so you could check on him once in a while. He had been dodging your calls and messages since Steve went back to be with Peggy. From what Sam had told you, he hadn’t been able to get a hold of him either. Making your way to the bedroom, you began getting dressed. As you tossed your phone to the bed, the screen lit up, ringing with an unknown number. You grabbed it, answering with a questioning “Hello?” “Is this Y/n Y/l/n?” “Yes? Who is this?” “Hi Y/n, this is John Walker! I heard you used to work closely with Steve Rogers.” You stiffened, wondering what this man could possibly want with you. “Yes, Steve and I were close. How exactly can I help you?” “Well as I’m sure you know, I’m taking over the mantle as Captain America. I could use someone like you to help me out.” He sounds about as arrogant as he looks. “Mr. Walker, I really don’t think that would be the best idea.” You heard a huff on the other end of the phone and rolled your eyes in response. “Ma’am, we know that after Steve left, you stopped working. You belong in the field, you are amazing at what you do.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes in frustration. “I’ll try one mission. ONE. Send me details later.” You dropped your phone on the bed as you hung up and whispered to yourself, “Steve please forgive me. I hope Sam and Buck will understand.”

“Where are we going Walker?” You leaned back, arms folded and shot a death glare at the man. “We’re going to help some of your old friends.” Smirking he moved closer to you, “You ready?” You looked down as the helicopter began lowering and saw Sam fighting on the top of a truck. You immediately jumped into action, swinging down and landing on the back of the truck next to Sam. You tackled the man as you dropped, kicking him down the length of the truck. “What the—“ Sam flew upwards, then turned towards you. “Y/n? What are you doing here?” You laughed as you fought against the man in front of you, “Saving your ass apparently!” You jerked back as you saw a shield fly past you, barley missing the side of your head. Turning, you saw John and Lemar finally join you. They walked to Sam, “John Walker, Captain America.” “Lemar Hoskins.” “Looks like you guys could use some help.” Sam looked at you, both of you rolling your eyes. Suddenly, Sam flew off the truck, and John was knocked off. You sighed, and jumped down after him, watching as the truck full of soldiers continued down the road.

You propped your legs up on the seat of the jeep, hoping John would back off if he wasn't as close to you. He screwed up the mission, and you sure as hell weren’t going on another with him. “Hey you did great! We will definitely get them next time, we just need to regroup.” Rolling your eyes, you looked out the back of the jeep to the road. “There is no next time with me Walker.” “Now come on don't be like that.” John turned his head to look in front of the jeep and saw Sam and Bucky walking. He leaned forward and began honking the horn, trying to get their attention. The jeep pulls up next to them, and John opens the door, “So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” You looked out to see Sam ignoring you and made eye contact with Bucky. His eyes widened with surprise, then darkened with anger. Not being able to take a hint, John continued, “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three so..” Sam glanced up at John, then back forward, “Aliens, Androids, or wizards?” “Pretty sure.” You tuned the men out, looking up at the sky and wishing John would just shut the hell up. Feeling the car jerk to a stop, you looked at the men, all still arguing. “You ever jump on top of a grenade?” Don’t say it. Walker I swear if you tell them about that dumbass thing with your helmet and compare that to everything that Steve did… “Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long sto—“ “John shut up.” You interrupted him, tired of hearing his mouth. “Guys it’s 20 miles to the airport. Please get in.” You looked to Sam with pleading eyes. Bucky rolled his eyes and climbed in after Sam. With the extra people in the jeep now, you had to move your legs to make room. There goes your plan to keep John as far away as possible. Tapping your foot on the side of Bucky’s, you tried to get him to look at you. Bucky looked up and stared at you. Eyes not blinking, body not moving. You tried scoot forward to try to talk to him, you had missed him so much and hated that the two of you hadn’t been talking. As you scooted forward, John grabbed your arm and pulled you back against him. You stiffened, trying to pull away. “Let go of me Walker,” you speaking through closed teeth and a clenched jaw. “This would be easier if I had Cap’s wingmen with me. I’ve already got his best girl.” As he leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your head, Bucky stood, towering over the two of you. “Let. Her. Go.” His eyes were clouded with anger, and he reached down and quickly, but gently, pulled you to him. “You can go with us. You don’t have to stay with him.” As you went to answer him, John stood and put his hand on the small of your back, “Bucky I can take care of her, she’s with us.” “Stop the car!” The jeep jerked to a halt and you flew forward into Bucky’s arms. “Walker I am sick and tired of you walking around pretending that just because you carry a stolen shield that you’re him. You will NEVER be Steve. Steve was a good man. You’re just a soldier.” You swung yourself over the side of the jeep and began walking down the dirt road, Sam close behind. Bucky lingered for just a moment, looking at John, “If I ever see you touch her again without her permission, you won’t have an arm to hold that shield with.”

“What the hell were you doing with him y/n?” You looked away from Bucky, ashamed that you had even considered working with Walker. “First of all you don't need to be jumping out of helicopters. Second of all, you’re really supporting this guy? He’s a total ass!!” Something finally snapped, and you turned to glare at him, “Bucky I have done nothing since Steve left. All I had were the three of you. Sam had his own shit going on, and you!” You stopped and turned to him, poking him in the chest with a finger, “You have ignored my calls, my messages. You have avoided me since he left! I agreed to ONE mission. Just to see if I could still do it, without the three of you. I was given an opportunity, and yes I was pissed about the circumstance, yes I was uncomfortable. But I took the opportunity.” Turning back you walked away. “Y/n—“ You ignored the voice behind you as you glared at the road ahead of you. Sam looked to Bucky, “Not the best way to get her back White Wolf. You better go catch her.” Jogging, Bucky caught up to you. “Y/n I’m sorry. I was out of line.” You paused and looked to the tall man now standing in front of you. “Yea Buck you were.” Pushing past him, you continued down the road. “Y/n please wait. Talk to me.” “What else do you want me to say James? You weren’t there to stop me, and I needed to do something. I can’t live my life crying over Steve being gone, I have to get back to work at some point.” Tightening his jaw, he looked at you with a fire in his eyes. “I know he’s gone, and I know that you can’t sit around doing nothing. I know that. But with him? Why not with me and Sam?” “Are you kidding me Bucky??? I have called you, I have sent you messages! Multiple times a day and you IGNORE me! So working with you wasn’t an option. Sam was taking time with his family, he wasn’t even working. Don’t pull that crap with me Barnes. After being around Walker, I am NOT in the mood for your bullshit.” You turned away from him again, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Well that went over great Buck. Good job.” “Shut up Sam.” On the plane, Bucky tried to smooth things over again. “Come on Y/n, talk to me.” You rolled your eyes and turned to Sam. “So who was that on the truck?” “Flag Smashers. They’re stealing medicine and weapons and distributing them to people that have been displaced from the blip. We think they’ve taken a dose of the serum.” “Where would they have even gotten any?? Wasn’t the bit that HYDRA had the last of it?” “That we aren't sure about.”

You had just walked into your apartment when your phone began ringing. Glancing down, you saw Sam’s name across the screen. What the hell? “Sam?” “Hey Y/n. You need to get down to the police station. They arrested Bucky.” “They WHAT??! I’m on my way!” After quickly locking your door, you ran down to your car.

The doors to the station flung open as you stormed in, looking for Sam. He stood as he saw you and pulled you to a seat to explain what happened. “Sam why did they even stop? You were just talking!” Sam looked at his feet and then to you. “Y/n. You know why they stopped. Once they realized who Bucky was, they said they had a warrant out because he had missed therapy.” Before you could speak a woman’s voice came from behind you, “Sam? Y/n?” The two of you turned to face the woman as she stuck out her hand in an introduction. “I’m Dr. Raynor, Bucky’s therapist. I’ve heard a lot about the two of you.” You shook her hand as Sam nodded shortly, “Thank you for bailing him out Dr. Raynor.” “Me? I thought you did!” The three of you looked at each other confused, until you heard cameras snapping. “Oh please no..” You groaned, already becoming agitated and defensive. “You’re welcome sweetheart.” You looked up at John Walker, resisting the urge to spit on him or beat him. Sam stepped closer to you in an attempt to shield you from him. “Why did you bail him Walker?” “He’s an asset. We need him out in the field more than he needs to be in here or in therapy.” Sam tightened his grip on your arm as your eyes flashed with anger and you lunged towards him. “You motherfuc—“ A cold hand came down on your shoulder before you could finish your sentence and you looked up to see Bucky. “He’s not worth being arrested doll.” You looked up at Bucky, wanting to protest, but decided against it. “You need to leave before I decide that he’s wrong.” John laughed as he and Lamar began walking outside, “I’ll see you three outside. We need to talk.”

Dr. Raynor pulled Sam and Bucky towards an interrogation room, and motioned for you to follow, “We’re having a session. Now.” The chairs scraped across the hard floor as they were pulled closer together. “Who’s going first?” Bucky rolled his eyes as he looked at the ceiling, and Sam huffed, crossing his arms. “This is a waste of time Doc.” “I’ll go Dr. Raynor.” Barely coming out as a whisper, but your voice still bounced off the walls. Your eyes moved from the floor to Bucky, “What have I done to you Buck? We were so close..But you stopped talking to me. You completely dropped me, and then expected me to just come back to you with open arms. I don’t know what I did to make you so mad.” He looked to you and then Sam and scoffed. “Yea I left. What was I supposed to do? Steve left. Why wouldn’t you leave too?” Your jaw dropped and you laughed before you could stop yourself. “Are you kidding me Bucky? You really shut me out because you thought I’d leave you the same way Steve did?? You KNEW how much I loved you and how much I needed you. I would have done ANYTHING for you James.” Bucky looked at his boots, ashamed to look at you. “You weren’t the only one hurting Bucky. And just to remind you in case you forgot, we were together before you up and left. Then I find out from Sam that you’re DATING. So not only did you leave Sam and I as friends and ghost us both, you left me as a partner.” At this point your voice was becoming strained and soft and tears began to stream down your cheeks. Sam reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing how badly you had been hurting. Bucky looked at you, tears brimming, but not spilling. His mouth opened, then closed multiple times, not knowing what to say. He turned to Sam, unable to process his emotions for you at the moment. “Why did you give up the shield Sam?” “Why are you concerned about things that have nothing to do with you?” “Steve trusted you. He gave you that shield because he believed in you.” Anger began to flood his already strained voice as he leaned forward towards Sam, but gripping the armrest of the chair, trying to hold himself back. “And what if he was wrong about you? If he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about ME!” A single tear rolled down his face as he sat back in his chair, face going dark. Sam rolled his eyes and stood, “I’ll see the two of you outside.” When Bucky went to stand Dr. Raynor stopped him. “You may have had some sort of closure with Sam, but this hasn’t even been addressed. You have caused Miss. Y/l/n a lot of stress. You are going to talk to her before you leave this room.” Bucky looked over at you. You were holding your hands in your lap, staring at your feet, looking absolutely defeated. His heart broke a little seeing you so upset; he hadn’t seen you this upset in a very long time. “Y/n..I…” He tried to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Knowing that there was nothing he could say to make things better, he walked to you and kneeled in front of you. “Please Y/n, just look at me.” Hearing his soft voice, you looked up, still trying to avoid his piercing eyes. “Please.” You finally made eye contact, and almost broke again. “Doll, I know there’s nothing I can say to make what I did better. I know I fucked up. But..Sweetheart I did what I thought would be better for you. I didn’t want you to have to deal with me, to deal with this life.” Your eyes flashed as you stood. “That was a decision that you should have let me make James. I want you. I want this life. That was my decision to make, and you took it from me!” “I know..I know..” His voice was soft, sad. Tears streamed down both of your faces, and you dropped to your knees in front of him. “Stop taking care of me Buck. Let me take care of you for once. You’ve been through so much. Please.” Strong arms grasped your waist, holding you so tight that you thought they would squeeze the life right out of you. Turning to Dr. Raynor, you silently thanked her for the talk that you and Bucky so desperately had needed, then pulled him to his feet.

“Alright Sam, we’re ready, let’s go.” Red and blue lights flashed as you exited the police station. “So, how are we going to tackle this problem?” John Walker’s smug voice carried down the sidewalk to you. “Please tell me I don’t have to work with this dick again.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, “Not if I can help it.” With an undeserved confident strut, Walker made his way to you. “If we divide ourselves, we don't stand a chance. It would be an honor to work with you two. And an absolute pleasure to watch this pretty thing in action again.” A sick feeling bubbled in the pit of your stomach, and you involuntarily gagged, making Walker’s jaw drop. “Do you even know where they are Walker?” “Well. I. Well not right now, but it won’t take long for us to find them.” Walker’s voice raised and became harsher the more flustered he became. A smirk was plastered across your face, enjoying watching the man squirm when he was asked anything. Bucky placed his warm hand on the small of your back, beginning to guide you away as Sam spoke. “We don’t have to go through all of the hoops that you do Walker. We’re free agents, and besides, we actually know what the hell we’re doing.” As the words left Sam’s mouth, you stopped in your tracks and turned to see how John would react, knowing that it would be a good show. You watched as his eyes lit up with anger. “If you're not going to work with us Wilson, then a little piece of advice. Stay the hell out of my way.”

[tuiccim]

Terrigenisis (Part 10)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1669

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff and SMUT (18+, NSFW)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist       Divider by @firefly-graphics

As the months went by, the relationship between Steve, Bucky, and yourself became more and more solid. You talked about the future, made plans, and worked through the few issues that had arisen. There had been missions and you had become an integral part of the team. You were happy. You had a job you loved, two men you loved, a home, and a family in your team. It was idyllic. Which terrified you at times. When the fear began to overwhelm you, Bucky and Steve were there for you. They let you express your fears and helped you through them. 

You were gearing up for a mission to take out a large Hydra base that had been recently discovered. The intel on its existence was solid even though what was going on there was a mystery. Some information had been gleaned through surveillance but it was mostly pictures of  objects with an alien language. Thor and Loki were expected to arrive today to help and give some information on what these items could be. 

The team was awaiting their arrival in the conference room except Steve and Tony who were greeting them. You were going over mission details and making tactical plans with the available information.

“So, what are Thor and Loki like?” You ask the group in general. 

“Thor’s a good guy. Nice. A little terse at times. Intense.” Bruce replies.  

“What about Loki?” You look at Bruce. 

“He’s a bag of cats. He’s trying to be… different. Better, I guess. That’s why he’s coming. Thor is trusting him. I guess we’ll have to try, too.” Bruce shrugs as Natasha scoffs. 

“Be careful around Loki. There’s a reason he’s the god of mischief.” Natasha warns.

“Noted.” You say just as they walk in. You immediately smile when you catch Steve’s eye but turn your attention to the two Asgardians as they enter. Steve makes introductions as Tony pulls up the intel photos for the two gods. 

“This looks to be Kree.” Thor states. 

“It is.” Loki confirms as he swipes through the photos. 

“Kree?” You say bringing Thor’s attention to you.

“Yes. They-”

“Created Inhumans.” 

“Yes. You are familiar with the Inhumans?” Thor asks. 

“I am an Inhuman.” You watch the two for any reaction. 

“Ah, a fellow abomination.” Loki grins. “What are your powers?”

You stare Loki down for a moment. Interpreting no malice in his remarks, you reply, “Warging, understanding of all vocal communication, increased strength and stamina.”

“Interesting.” Loki narrows his eyes.

“Warging?” Thor asks and you give him a brief explanation. 

Going back to the available information, the team gleans all it can to formulate a plan. Afterwards, everyone moves to the common room to relax while Tony has a meal brought in. 

“Loki has been watching you the entire time we’ve been in here.” Natasha murmurs to you. 

“Novelty, I guess.” You shrug. 

“Maybe so. Are you okay?” 

“Just have a headache all of a sudden.” You say. 

“Want me to get you something?”

“No, I’ll-mmph! Ow. It feels like an icepick in my head.” You say. 

Natasha’s eyes widen and her head snaps up, “Loki, stop!”

You make eye contact with the god and feel another stab of pain. Realizing he is trying to get in your head, you push back at the feeling. 

“What are you doing, brother?” Thor grabs his arm. 

“I just wanted to see how far her capabilities went, brother. She began fighting me. Strong, this one.” Loki smirks. 

“Keep your mind games to yourself, Loki!” Steve growls. 

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Try.”

“What?” Steve turns to you with a stern look. 

“I want to see if he can. I can’t know how far my abilities go if I don’t push them. Most of my powers have to do with my senses. I’m just curious.” You shrug.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Bucky warns. “It was obviously causing you pain.”

“It’s not a big deal. Will you try again, Loki?” You ask. 

“At your service, darling.” Loki grins and concentrates on you again. Your head aches almost immediately and the sharp stabbing pain returns but you fight back against it. Using the same thought process you use when warging you concentrate on Loki, pushing back against his mental invasion. The pain in your head increases the more you fight back but you aren’t willing to stop. You feel a surge from Loki and automatically push back at him with a mental force that suddenly turns your eyes green as the god’s and you realize you have entered his mind. Intense pain spikes through you bringing you to your knees as you grab the sides of your head. A scream tears from your throat before you black out. 

You wake in Bucky’s arms as he takes quick strides towards the elevator. 

“Bucky. I’m okay.” You say. 

“You passed out. You aren’t okay.” Bucky says firmly. 

“We’re just going to take you to get checked out, sweetheart.” Steve says from right beside you. 

“No, I’m fine. Put me down.” You squirm in Bucky’s arms. 

“Doll-” “Sweetheart-”

“Down! Now!” You all but shout. Bucky reluctantly lowers you to the floor and you stand, holding his shoulder for support. “Well, that was new.”

“What did Loki do to you?” Steve growls.

“I only did as she asked.” Loki defends himself. “She managed to fight my attempts. It was quite impressive. Not many can keep me out of their mind as she did. And then, she slipped into my mind. It probably overwhelmed her as she’s not used to such an exertion.”

“Agreed.” You say. “I’ve never been able to do that with a human before.”

“You were probably able to because I have to open my mind in order to reach out. That was admirable.” Loki says. 

“Uh, thanks?” You laugh lightly. 

“Did you see anything?” Loki asks with eyes narrowed.

“It was pretty jumbled.” You admit.

“That’s normal for a first timer. Come, let’s discuss our little experiment.” Loki wraps your hand around his arm and guides you away from your two supersoldiers who glare at Loki as the two of you sit on the loveseat. When dinner is ready, you sit at the table between Bucky and Steve. Loki is seated across from you with Thor next to him and the table is jovial as everyone enjoys the company and food. You notice that Loki retreats into himself during the meal. As soon as the meal is over, you approach Loki again to ask more questions about his abilities. Everyone drifts into the common room while you and Loki sit at one end of the table and talk. He has a great deal of knowledge regarding the Kree, Inhumans, and different abilities. You learn more in two hours than you had in the six months with your Inhuman team. 

“Hey Doll. We’re heading to the room.” Bucky approaches to say. 

“Okay, Love. I’ll be there shortly.” You smile up at him as he leans down to plant a quick kiss on your lips. 

Loki watches as Bucky leaves with a smirk, “So, you and Sergeant Bar-”

“Sweetheart, you coming to bed?” Steve interrupts. 

“Soon, Babe. Loki is giving me some history on the Kree.” 

Steve eyes Loki for a moment before leaning down to kiss you possessively “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” You smile at him as he leaves. Turning back to Loki, it’s your turn to smirk, “Yes, Me and Bucky and Steve.”

“That was unexpected.” Loki raises an eyebrow. 

“I imagine not much surprises you.” You laugh.

“Very little.” Loki says. 

“You know, I was prepared to hate you but… you aren’t exactly what I was expecting.” 

“I was under the influence of other entities during the Battle of New York. It spoke to the basest part of me. I know I’ll never fully make up for it but I’m hopeful I can do some good to set it to rights.” 

“I’m sure you will. Do some good, that is. I should head to bed. Good night, Loki.”

“Good night.” Loki nods his head and joins his brother. 

You were impressed with him. Truthfully, you had planned on hating him. After all, he had killed Coulson but when you had slipped into his mind you had felt his remorse. You were honest when you told him that everything was jumbled. The memories and images that came through had been but his feelings had been loud and clear. Inferiority, remorse, contrition, fear, and hope had suffused you when your minds were joined. It had softened you towards him and you hoped that he could find some corner of redemption in all of this. 

When you get to the bedroom, you pause a minute to smile at Steve and Bucky cuddled up together in the bed. 

“Come join us, pretty girl.” Steve beckons. 

“What were you and Loki talking about that kept you so enthralled?” Bucky groused. 

“Careful, Buck. You almost sound jealous.” You laugh. “We were talking about the Kree and inhumans and different abilities. I learned a good bit from him. Loki offered to bring some information and writings when he comes again.”

“He doesn’t usually talk to any of us much when he’s around.” Steve says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Usually all we get out of him is sly remarks.” Bucky says. 

“Huh. Probably a defense mechanism. He feels he has a lot to make up for and know no one really likes him.” You offer.

“How did you find that out?” Steve asks.

“When we did the Vulcan mindmeld. I could feel what he was feeling more than anything else. It told quite the story in and of itself.”

“Loki is a master manipulator.” Steve warns.

“I understand.” You reassure them. “And we leave for mission tomorrow for who knows how long. Is there anything you'd like to do before that happens?”

“Yeah.” “Definitely.” They speak at the same time. 

“What would that be?” You ask. 

“You.” They say in unison.

Part 11

Tuiccim’s Masterlist

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[kvmberly]

if i can’t have you.

20 day song imagines masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x 40’s!reader

pronouns: she/her

genre: angst, some fluff

warning: one curse word and mentions of death.

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: bucky spends years tracking down a necklace from a past lover that he just can't stop thinking about but ended up finding something even better.

this means flashbacks

The first time Bucky remembered y/n was after his first fight with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. He was so confused that Steve knew him and all the memories from his past life were slowly flowing back.

"James! Don't throw that at me!" y/n laughed running from him.

they were having a water-balloon fight. It was a sunny afternoon in Brooklyn and they were quick to take advantage of the sunny weather.

"Doll i'm not going to throw it. Just come over here it'll be okay." Bucky bit his lip in anticipation.

Y/n slowly stepped towards Bucky but ran once she heard someone cough in the bush next to her.

"Dammit Steve!"

"I'm sorry I was trying to hold it in." Steve laughed.

Y/n. Who was y/n? And who was this Steve guy? Bucky's context clues led him to believe that y/n might've been a lover of his, hence the pet name "doll."

Bucky didn't have much time until he was back at the Hydra building so he quickly picked up random litter from the street and sought out to find a pen. Once he found it, he wrote the name y/n on it.

Once he arrived to the front building of Hydra he tucked the paper away from anyones view to come back for it.

He was back from his mission and hydra knew right away that something wasn't right. They wiped is memory and everything he remembered was gone. Kind of.

The next couple of weeks Bucky had remembered nothing of his past life, including where he hid the paper, and was doing missions for his "boss." This time, he just so happened to find Steve, again.

Combinations of Steve repeatedly calling The Winter Soldiers name, Bucky, and just seeing him caused him to pause. A memory was coming back to him. He tried to fight it, even after focusing on Steve and what his leaders told him to do. But even after saving Steve, he couldn't fight off the feelings he was getting from being near the super soldier.

"James. Please be careful." Y/n cried into his neck.

She just got the news that he's going on a mission with Steve. She always feared what would happen when he joined the military. She already had faced almost losing him to the nazi's. What if something even worse happens?

"Doll. You know I will." he replied, pulling back to look at her teary eyed face.

"Still, things happen." she shrugged.

Bucky stood up from the bed getting his thing's together. He knew it was dangerous, but he had to do it. She knew that.

"Wait James." Y/n called as he was about to leave, "Take this." She handed him a necklace.

Bucky looked at the silver necklace, examining the picture of her on it, "What's this for?"

"So you don't forget me." She sniffed.

"You keep it here with you." He said softly.

"Why?"

So you can give it to me when I come back." He kissed her lips, leaving her with the last I love you she'll ever hear from him.

Bucky jolted awake from his sleep wiping his eyes and got up from his metal bed. Bucky suddenly started to question hydra like he hasn't before. He began to question who he even was.

He needed to find that necklace. But where could it be? Did she even keep it?

Over the course of two years, Bucky finally started to get his memory back. He was united with Steve in weird circumstances but he was just glad to have his best friend next to him. Even though he had his memory, he still hadn't found the necklace. He spent two years looking everywhere for it and never even got a hit on it until a couple nights ago. He kept having flashbacks to a specific place.

"You sure know how to make a girl love huh?" Y/n asked, arms around Bucky's neck.

"Maybe." He mumbled then softly placed his lips on her's.

They were at the y/n's favorite bar dancing to a song that came on in the jukebox. Paper Doll.

Bucky quickly learned that song is the reason he called his beloved y/n doll.

"What you thinking in the pretty head of yours?" Bucky questioned.

Y/n sighed, "Just about how amazing you are."

"You want to go to the bar. Don't you?"

"Yes!" She yelled as she shot up from the bed to get ready.

The bar. But what was it called?

Bucky had a long day. All he wanted to do was cuddle up with y/n but when he entered there shared apartment, she wasn't there. She was always there, especially at this time of the night.

He didn't want to panic though. He knew she had to be somewhere so he looked around the building then proceeded to drive to her family owned bar. Y/L/N

He quickly drove to the bar, opening the door to it, seeing y/n. "Doll." Bucky called.

"Hi James." Y/n greeted.

"Why aren't you at home?"

"I just wanted to be out." Y/n answered truthfully.

Bucky nodded sitting next to her ordering a drink. She always made his day better.

Finally! He had a name to the bar, but where was it?

Bucky decided to ask Steve. Surely y/n and Steve were in contact after his "passing." Maybe he knows about the necklace.

"Hey Steve. You remember y/n?" Bucky asked

"Of course I do Buck. You thinking about her."

"Yeah I um- I remember she had a family bar it was named-"

"Y/L/N" Steve interrupted.

"You remember it?" Bucky's eyes lit up.

Steve nodded smiling, happy his friend was remembering something important.

"Can you maybe tell me where it's at?"

"You looking for the necklace?" Steve asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Bucky said yes then followed Steve all the way down the street. A big sign reading, "Y/L/N" was hanging overhead. "Here you are."

How did he miss this?

Bucky thanked Steve with a handshake and walked his way into the bar. It looked the same, only more modern. The jukebox was still there but the interior was more relaxed and comfortable.

The bell rang as he entered causing people to look at him. Most reverted their attention back to there food as he walked to the ordering counter, but a a lady in the back kitchen, who couldn't be older than 30, continued to stare at him.

"You here for food or drinks?" The person at the ordering counter asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak but one of the people from the back intervened. "Tilla come back here for a second."

Tilla, the person at the counter, went to the back and talked to the lady who called them. Tilla's eyes widened then turned their head looked at Bucky.

What is going on?

The lady from the kitchen came up to the counter, "You James Barnes?" She asked.

"How'd you know?" He questioned.

"I'm Nichole, y/n's niece." She reached her hand out to greet him.

He accepted the handshake but was still confused. How did she know what he looked like. Surely y/n couldn't have told her?

"I'm guessing you're looking for y/n?"

"Well-"

"You're two years late." She told him, "She passed away."

Bucky's whole body froze.

Nichole looked up at him, seeing his state. "Let me take you to lunch. I'll tell you everything." She grabbed her bag and led him somewhere to eat.

-

"Did she- did she ever talk about me?" Bucky asked nervously. He just wanted to know. Not wanted, needed to know.

"All the time."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah. She used to play that paper doll song all the time!" She laughed, "I remember just begging her to stop showing pictures of you but I guess it helped me figure out who you are."

"How'd you know I was alive?"

"Steve told me."

Huh? Steve knew y/n had family so close and never told him? But then Bucky remembered, he knew about the necklace. He knew about the bar. Why did he never tell him?

"He wanted you to remember it."

Bucky was snapped from his thoughts, "What?"

"Steve. He wanted you to remember her not because he told you, but because you genuinely remembered." Nichole reached into her bag, grabbing a crumbly envelope.

"Here." She handed him the paper. "Her death wish was for you to read this note. She wrote it for you but knew Steve was alive and made me promise to give it to him. But since you're alive and breathing, I'm giving it to you."

Bucky softly grabbed the envelope from the young girls hand, opening it.

Y/n was so hurt. So hurt from the news of Bucky's passing. She couldn't move on so she decided to make a letter. A letter that she only could hope that would be opened by Bucky.

Dear my beloved James,

I am writing this letter in hopes of you coming back home one day. Everyone says you have passed. They tell me to move on but I can not. I can not move on from you. You are the man I dream about in the night time. Steve says he did everything he could. I believe him. I truly miss you. You are the love of my life and if I could just hear you call me doll one more time, I would finally be at rest. I remember us talking about baby names. I remember all the times you came to my work just to tell me a new name you came up with. Sadly I will not have any babies. I refuse to even lay with another person. I refuse. I hope to one day have a niece. Maybe I can convince my family to name them Nichole or Harvey. If only. I miss you. Everything in my life seems sore without your touch. Everything means nothing without you. Everything means nothing if I can't have you.

your doll, y/n.

She sealed it in a pink envelope and tucked it away.

ps, i slipped the picture of me in your pocket.

-

idk why but I started tearing up at the end lol. i can just imagine the pain people feel when there s/o passes away :/

- kimberly

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 31

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst

A/N: it’s going down now!! hope you enjoy it xx

NEXT CHAPTER

   - Barnes. - he answered.

   - Mr. Barnes, it’s Agent Cox. We have an assignment for you. - his grip almost loosened on his coffee cup. - If you could meet with us tod ...

  - I don’t do that anymore.

  - I’m sorry Mr. Barnes, but I don’t make the rules. 1 o’clock, you know where.

  - Wait. - before he could even say a thing, the phone line went dead. Fuck. Fucking assholes. 

He threw the mug onto the sink, the sheer force of the movement making the porcelain shatter against the spotless aluminium which made the sleeping Y/N on the couch, perk up wide awake. Through the temporary blurry vision of the first look after sleeping, Y/N got up from the couch and rushed towards the kitchen. Bucky had his back turned to the tiled wall, hands on the marbled kitchen top with his head looking down at the sink. She padded lightly, coming up on his left rather than behind him, placing her hand on top of his which quickly got a reaction from him.  

    - What’s wrong? - she was smart enough to know when something was wrong despite the fact he had learned to hide it from her. Bucky sighed, turning around to lean against the kitchen top. - Bucky?

Bucky remained locked inside his mind, fighting something which Y/N couldn’t really understand. It quickly passed her mind it could’ve been due to her actions last night but that thought quickly left as the overwhelming feeling of wanting to comfort him. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. Bucky was still much too lost in his own mind. He should’ve be enjoying retirement, or at least his version of retirement and he definitely should not be leaving his bride-to-be who was being harassed by some maniac stalker. Yet, here he was once again. He guessed when they said don’t hurt anyone, it obviously did not include him. 

    - Talk to me, Bucky.  What’s wrong, love?

    - What ... what ring cut do you want? - he tried to change the topic but she was much too smart to know he hadn’t broken a mug over deciding what cut she wanted for her engagement ring. - Princess cut? Heart? Marquise?

     - Barnes! - she interrupted him before he decided to switch careers and become an engagement ring adviser. - What is it?

     - I ... I have to go, Y/N. I have an assignment.

     - What do you mean? 

     - It’s complicated.- he rested his hand on his neck. How does one even start to explain it? Bucky wanted her to see him as a regular man, he did not want the Winter Soldier, HYDRA, SHIELD or even the Avengers being part of his history with him. Maybe it was wrong of him to want to divide those two parts of him, but he wanted her to see whatever good was left in him. How would he even explain it to her when he can barely explain it to himself?

     - Well then explain to me. Make it uncomplicated.

     - I .. it’s part of my plea deal, princess.

     - What plea deal? - she followed him into the living room, where he sat in the couch. - Bucky, talk to me, please. Let me help you. 

     - You think the government would let me walk around as if nothing had happened? - he meant for it to sound playful however it came out filled  with resentment and why wouldn’t he resent them? It wasn’t freedom, it was constantly being kept on the leash by a government which was everything but capable of taking care of homeland security. - I had a list of people associated with HYDRA, it started with that then ... then after I was done they started calling me whenever they thought someone had HYDRA connections so I could bring them in and make amends.

     - Makes amends? What is that supposed to mean? 

     - It means what you think it means, princess. 

     - Bu ...

      - I have to meet with the agents to get the details today. - he interrupted before she could delve deeper into what he was sure she wanted to discuss. Bucky knew what he had to do and he knew there was no use crying and whining about it. - At one but I’ll be ba ...

     - I’m going with you. 

     - What? No, you’re not going. You’re staying here, god knows the papers already know you skipped the party and will be starting with their theories. 

     - I did not ask for you opinion, I said I am going. 

     - Princess, they’re not gonna let you inside the room and you’ll be probably waiting outside for an hour. Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable here?

     - No. I am going, Bucky. End of story.

     - So you’re calling the shots now?

     - Yes. - she looked over her shoulder as she made her way to the bedroom to finally get rid of the dress that was starting too feel way too uncomfortable. 

Bucky was not happy. The last thing he needed was the government to know he was dating, much less the officers and agents which normally assigned him tasks. Those were two worlds he did not want connected, he didn’t want Y/N mixed with his past, much less mixed with active ex-HYDRA members but he also knew there was no stopping her and the two of them left his flat just half to one, arriving at a mostly regular building which she would’ve mistaken for an office. Bucky parked the car in front of him, stare frozen onto the building as if it were a person which had hurt him. She felt powerless, she couldn’t help him. All she could do was be the first one off the car, eyes shielded by oversized sunglasses as he opened his door as he normally would do for her. He snapped out of it, exiting the car only to give the building that look again which was broken by her holding his hand. He’d done this so many times before and it had always been hard but now, now walking in that building meant he’d be leaving her just in the midst of a crazy person who was stalking her. He shouldn’t be tying up HYDRA’s loose ends, he should be throwing whomever that stalker was inside a cell.

     - Wait here, okay? - Bucky instructed Y/N just before he entered the room to have the meeting. - I’ll be back.

     - You’re gonna be fine. - she thanked heaven she had decided to take up acting because all she wanted to do now was break down. He kissed her forehead before leaving.

Everything looked so normal, almost like an office’s reception but she had quickly learned to dislike it. She disliked the pale blue colour of the walls, the sound of the coffee machine, the dark blue seats, she hated all of it. She did not need to know exactly why, she knew whatever it was, it was something Bucky deeply disliked and she did not know what to do. She should know what to do, say something more supportive. However, there was someone who knew what to do, who would know how to be better at helping him than she could. Y/N fished through her purse, a mess of stuff coming out before she could even get to her phone. 

     - Hello?

     - Steve, you need to come. Hum ... I don’t know where I am but I need your help.

     - Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where’s Bucky?

     - I don’t know what’s going on. - she sighed, leaning her head against the palm of her hand. - He didn’t explain it to me but it’s about assignments and the government.

     - I’ll be there as fast as I can, Y/N. 

     - Thank you. 

All eyes in the room were on her, as if she was a circus attraction. It was nothing she wasn’t used to, she had grown up surrounded by an audience either it being her family or the audience of the plays she had been so she knew when people were staring at her. This look however, it was almost as of surprise and shock. She curled up against her own self, lip between her teeth as her fingers pulled at the pearls wrapped around her neck. She should’ve insisted to go in, to be by his side so he wasn’t alone.

     - Y/N, are you okay? - she looked up to see Sam and Steve. - Sam, take her to the car.

     - I don’t need to be in the car. I’m staying here to support him and one of you is gonna explain me to me what the heck is happening.

     - I’m going to check on Cox and Buck. - Steve left Y/N alone with Sam, the two of them sat in probably the most uncomfortable seats ever created. 

     - Sam, are they gonna hurt him?

     - Bucky’s gonna be fine, Y/N. This is part of “effort” to make amends.

     - Make amends for what, Sam? For being the Winter Soldier? For being a persona forced upon him by HYDRA which was undercover in the government for years? This can’t ... it can’t be possibly legal. 

     - Try to tell that to a jury of people who see him as the guy who fought Captain America in Washington and threw a guy into traffic. It’s not as simple but he’ll be fine. He’s done it several times and they always tell him no one gets hurt.

     - What about him? What are the rules about hurting him? - the two of them remained silent. There was nothing else to be said because both of them knew there were no rules. It was as uncertain as it came, it didn’t matter if he was “retired” from avenging or from being called the Winter Soldier. It did not matter. 

Time went by slowly and it felt as if Bucky and Steve had been in there for hours, when in reality the clock only marked 30 minutes and 40 minutes when the two of them stepped out of the room. Y/N scrambled to her feet, despite the sleepy state she had been in, fast walking towards her fiance. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could, standing on her tips of her sneakers to try and convey she was there for him. 

     - Seriously? Steve? - he whispered against her ear but Y/N shook it off.

     - Was it bad? - she turned to Steve, knowing Bucky would just try to shield her from it. 

     - Nothing far from usual. We’ll be standing by if you need it.

     - Thanks. - Bucky put his arm on over her shoulder, pushing her close to him while he could.

     - Next time call, Buck. If you don’t know how to use your phone ask your girlfriend. - Sam perked up before both him and Steve left. 

She looked up at him, knowing she’d definitely get a scolding for calling Steve but instead he just leaned down to kiss her before holding her tight. She was left stunned, wondering why he was yet to say something. Y/N could not know much about her boyfriend’s former life with HYDRA, but she knew him. She knew Bucky hated to bring Steve into things, specially after their relationship had slightly strained and despite that she still called Steve in. Steve knew his HYDRA life, she did not. Yet, Bucky always seemed to either let out a sarcastic remark or at least roll his eyes at her. Not today though. He acted as if the two of them had just came out of a date, holding her by her waist as they walked into the car.

She remained suspicious, looking to the side as he drove to his Brooklyn apartment. No. He had to be thinking about something, he had to be wondering about how to make his discontent about her calling Steve known. But he didn’t. He just had the radio playing, his hand on her thigh but she was still suspicious. Her suspicion grew stronger as they entered his flat and he held her flush against him, lowering to kiss her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. It was soft, filled with passion and slow. The type of kiss which if long enough would lead to more unsavoury things. 

     - I have to leave tomorrow. - his voice came out meek and soft as his lips parted from hers. 

     - What? - now it made sense. 

     - I have to leave tomorrow for my assignment. I don’t know when I’m going to be back but I have made arrangements for someone to watch over you. No one will hurt you while I’m gone.

     - Bucky, this is ridiculous. - she sighed. - Can’t we fight this? Can’t Steve help? You shouldn’t have to do this. 

     - I have to do this, Y/N. It’s my ... amends. 

     - Amends? Seriously? - she bit harshly onto her lip as not to start crying. She knew the moment she started to cry, he’d change the conversation to be about her and this was not about her. - You have to make amends?

     - Y/N...

     - No. - she interrupted. - You enlisted of a war caused by lack of government action, you were presumed dead only to be found by people who then seeped into the organisation which was meant to protect the country. They cut off whatever was left of your arm from a fall caused by them and brainwashed you. You are 106, you were 28 when you feel from that train. That’s 78 years, James. That’s more than average life expectancy for a man in the USA. You’re telling me they had you unwillingly under their control during their dirty deeds for more than a man’s life expectancy and you have to make amends? 

     - That’s the plea deal I accepted, Y/N. What do you want me to do? What do you want to do?

    - I just want them to see you the way that I see you, not the way they made you out to be. - Bucky took a step forward to hold her but she stepped back. - How can you accept it? Having them do this to you?

    - It’s just like the things your agency makes you do, princess. You get used to it overtime. 

    - It’s not the same. I chose to sign that contract, whatever comes of it is my fault. You did not chose to be used by someone and how is that fair? It’s not fair.

    - Life’s not fair. - he took a test step, testing if she would once again walk back but she did not. She stood there, arms crossed and head low and it broke him to see her like that but he did not know how to react. He’d never had someone say that to him and had he been less shaken by the sudden call, he would’ve probably had a different reaction. Yet, right now, all he wanted was to hold her. He wanted to hold her for as long as he could until he had to leave. 

Bucky fully approached her, wrapping his arms around her and resting her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her forehead, trying to hide his own emotions and trying to think of how he’d get that ex general down fast enough to return to her. To return to her little nose scrunch whenever she smiled with intent. 

    - I need you to do something for me, princess. You’re not gonna like it but I need you to do it. - he whispered, those words only for her. - Don’t make me say goodbye to you.

    - What do you mean?

    - Let me leave while you’re asleep. We go to bed just like we always do and you wake up tomorrow and I’m not here. 

    - Bucky, no. 

    - No, princess. Please. I was never good with goodbyes and if I don’t say goodbye to you, we never said it, so it never happened.

    - Bucky ...

    - Besides if I leave my dog tags with you, I can’t die. - he tried to lighten up the mood.

    - That’s not how it works.

    - I’ll be fine. I’ve done this plenty of times and no one has gotten hurt.

    - Not one has gotten hurt yet.

She didn’t want to let go of him and even as night approached and they laid down to sleep, she couldn’t sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, the dark suffocated her and it made it hard to fall asleep. She looked at him the whole night, his hand holding hers until the heaviness of her lids eventually won the war against her yet it wasn’t that she was tired. She was just lying unconscious in darkness, feeling the tragedy in the air. He too had barely slept, awaking up up when he had to and finding it even harder to leave her. She was laying on his bed, her hair framing her face, chest slowly rising up and down. She was alive, she was no fantasy, she was his dream come true and he was leaving her. He guessed that was the price of freedom.

He took a final look at his bride to be, her fluttering lashes making her look ethereal against the white sheets. Oh, he’d be back. He’d be back for her. Bucky took his tags off, leaning down to place them across her slightly opened palm and to kiss her temple before he took off into the early dawn. 

Y/N woke up when the sun was high in the sky, the light contrasting the cold of her bed. She didn’t need to look at his side of the bed to know he was gone. She couldn’t feel him, she couldn’t hear him. The flowers by the bedside had gone brown, the dead petals falling on her palm like teardrops against his dogs tags. She clinged onto the shiny material, bringing it up to her chest before she allowed herself to cry finally. No sounds came, no whimpers of sadness, no moans of grief. Nothing. Tears just streamed down her face in silent rivers falling onto the sheets as she tried to convince herself it would be okay. Things were gonna be okay.

Just as she managed to calm herself down, she realised the moment she opened that bedroom door, the lack of the smell of coffee, the lack of the smell of oil from his fried eggs. It would all just come back in big flashes and she would be back to where she had just been. She couldn’t be in his flat anymore, it was too painful. She needed to go, she just didn’t know where yet as she opened the door, there was indeed someone in her kitchen.

    - Sharon?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ 

[lexwritess]

And It Was All Yellow [B.B]

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings- anxiety, depression, panic attacks, death, blood, fighting

Word count- 2.2k

a/n- this is based on the song yellow by Coldplay link is in the fic if you want to listen while reading. I’m super proud of this I hope you guys enjoy it! It would be super appreciated if you reblogged so more people could see it!

-

“For you I’d bleed myself dry.”

You Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Nat were sent on a mission in Canada. Someone that used to work for HYDRA formed their own army, trying to fulfill what HYDRA wanted.

Currently you all were on a jet on the way there, discussing everything you know so far.

“Okay so we know they have two super soldier assassians, and they’re experimenting with other unknown substances.” Steve was explaining and trying to strategize a plan for when we get there. Bucky and Steve always wanted to have a plan before going on a mission.

“Y/n, do you remember what they used on you when you were kidnapped?” Natasha asked you.

HYDRA kidnapped you about three years ago. They did experiments on you, trying to make you more powerful than any other assassin they made before. The things they injected you with gave you powers. You were able to heal, and create energy shields. But the first time you used your powers it nearly killed you, one of the HYDRA agents was shot and they told you to heal him, but when you did it nearly ripped you apart. They left you to die after. That’s when Steve found you. Bruce did some scans and tests to try to figure out what they did, but he couldn’t figure it out. But you were told to never use your powers again or it would kill you.

“No all I know is that they used the super soldier serum mixed with other things.” You reply back to them.

You wish you could use your powers. It would be so helpful to everybody and you could save a lot of lives. Tony and Bruce worked together to try to let you be able to use them but the only thing it did was make your eyes flash a yellow color when you thought about using them, similar to Wanda.

“Okay, I thought so but it was worth a shot.” Nat replied back to you.

You nodded and Steve got back to explaining his plan.

“Hey doll.” You hear Bucky whisper beside you.

“Hey Buck.” You smile at him as he wraps an arm around you.

“Can you promise me something?” He paused letting out a slight sigh.

“Please go along with the plan.”

“Yeah of course, I always do.” You reply, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. You didn’t know why he was telling you this. He’s never done this before.

“No you don’t. You always go on your own way and almost get hurt everytime-.” You interrupted his rant.

“But I never have.” You smirk at him.

“Doesn’t mean you ever will, but please darling they’re dangerous. You almost died last time you were with them. I-I can’t lose you Y/n.” Bucky’s eyes glaze over.

You don’t know what’s gotten into him. We’ve gone on missions that were way more dangerous than this one.

“You’re not going to lose me Bucky, sometimes you can’t follow the plan though.” You look at him with concern.

He pulls you in for a hug and holds you there for a minute kissing your forehead.

“What’s the matter James, why are you so worried.” You cup his cheek and he turns his head away.

“It’s stupid.” He grumbles.

“It’s not stupid if it’s got you this upset bub, tell me.” You persist.

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I had a dream you died.” He mumbles. You heard him though. You’re used to him being embarrassed of his feelings so he’ll just mumble everything out.

“Bucky, nothings going to happen to me.” You smile and put both your hands on his cheeks, giving him a big kiss.

He chuckles at your silliness, you always know how to make him feel better.

“You kiss like a Grandma.” He laughs at you.

“You’re older than my Grandma.” You giggle back as he pulls you closer to him, giving you a proper kiss.

“You better not die either or I’ll kill you.” You pout at him.

“I like your logic, doll.” He hums back at you.

“Promise me.” You say to him seriously.

“I promise.” He smiles grabbing your pinky and intertwining it with his.

“Alright love birds, we’re here get ready.” Sam smiles at you guys.

-

Once you guys got off the jet a car was parked there and HYDRA uniforms were in it, giving you all a disguise.

You all got out of the car and are standing together, reviewing the plan one more time.

“Okay we go in there, try to keep a low profile. Try to avoid fighting as much as possible we don’t want their assassians after us. We get to the basement and destroy their machines. Easy.” Steve says confidently.

“Okay, what happens if we get caught?” Sam asks.

“Try not to make a big scene. Use that move we learned at training last week. If that doesn’t work let us know where you are.” Steve explains.

“Okay, you guys ready?” Steve gives a reassuring smile to everyone and you go in.

You all split up and go to different parts of the facility that lead to the basement.

“Hey you!” You hear someone shout at you. Damn it you were so close to the basement.

“Who are you?” The man looks at you, scanning your face.

“Taylor Prince.” You say confidently. Sam demanded you all had fake names.

He makes a puzzled face but you whisper up to him the word Nat told you guys to say in Russian.

He nods his head and your off back to the basement.

You hear static from your ear piece and a voice cutting in.

“I’m going to need you guys, soldiers in the basement.” Sam says. You hear gun shots and shells dropping. You hurry the rest of the way down the hallway into the basement.

Nat and you got there at the same time and you run down the stairs to see the rest of your team fighting the super soldiers.

There’s a few guards down there as well. You and Natasha go to knock them out making it easier to get rid of the soldiers.

- (play this if you want)

“Goddamn it, these soldiers wouldn’t give up.” You sigh out happy that you guys can finally do what you need to do.

“Yeah that’s how you two were.” Sam rolls his eyes.

“Oh sorry.” You reply give a nervous smile to Bucky.

“Okay let’s hurry before they wake up.” Steve says and you guys run towards their machines.

You look over and see a shadow. “Hey guys I think someone’s over-.” You were cut off by a gun shot. You all snap your head at the direction of the sound.

You hear a groan and someone drop to the floor.

You look down and see Bucky clutching his chest. They shot his heart.

Anger is all you feel.

You take out your pistol and shoot the soldier. Shot after shot after shot...

“Y/n! Y/n stop shooting he’s dead!” Steve yells at you snapping you out of it.

You drop to your knees by Bucky’s side.

“Hey doll.” He tries to give you a smile and coughs up blood.

You let out a sob and look away. You can’t. You can’t let him go.

“You promised me.” You cry out, your voice cracking as you let out another sob.

“Sometimes you can’t follow the plan though.” Bucky replies, copying what you said to him on the jet.

“I-I can’t.” You pause, tears never stop streaming from your face. “I can’t live without you.” You hiccup.

“You can. I love you.” Bucky closes his eyes.

“No, no Bucky open your eyes!” You yell.

Bucky is breathing shallow breaths. You can see he’s losing oxygen.

“Say it back before I go.” He breathes out.

“Buck...” You say so quiet you’re not sure if he heard you.

“Y/n, please.”

“I love you Bucky. I love you so much.” Your voice fades out and you begin sobbing again.

You see the slightest smile form on his face and his chest rises for the last time.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You start panicking. “C’mon Y/n.” Sam says softly grabbing your arms trying to lead you away from your dead boyfriend.

You push him away and finally break.

“No! Bucky wake up! I know you can, you can, wake up Buck please!” You start repeating yourself over and over again.

“You promised!” You’re screaming now. Screaming and sobbing you feel two sets of hands on you now grabbing you pulling you back.

“Get off of me!” You scream at them, your eyes glowing yellow.

“Y/n. Don’t.” Natasha tells you sternly. Dry tears in her face.

You turn away from them and start using your powers for the first time since you almost died.

“Y/n STOP!” Steve comes over to pull you away from his deceased best friend. You sway your hand over in his direction and his body hits the wall.

You put your hands on Bucky’s wound, praying that this works.

You feel your body starting to tear it’s self apart. You groan out in pain, but continue trying to bring Bucky back.

“Y/n, you’re going to kill yourself!” Sam yells at you.

The yellow light between you and Bucky is almost blinding. Your body can’t take much more.

Your screaming in agony at this point. You give one last big push of your powers before collapsing to the floor. You can barley see. White stars and blind spots cover your vision, probably from all the blood your body is loosing. It won’t be long till you bleed out.

You hear a gasp and slowly turn your head towards the noise.

It worked.

“Y/n! What? Doll why would you-why would you do that?” Bucky rushes to your side.

“I can’t live without you Buck. I told you.” You reach your hand out for Bucky to hold. He cups your hand between his and rests his head against it while sobbing.

You wanted to feel that chill vibranium one more time.

“Y/n, I can’t do this why would you kill yourself for me?” Bucky can’t stop questioning everything. He’s in shock from being dead and the fact the love of his life is dying right in front of him.

“For you I’d bleed myself dry.” You smile at him, giving his hand one last squeeze.

“You told me you would follow the plan.” Bucky says his voice pitching up.

“You know I can’t follow the rules.” You give him a smirk.

“Goodbye Buck, I love you more than life.” You whisper out.

“You know I love you so...” Bucky replies he’s so upset all his senses are shutting down. You let out one last breath and your body goes limp in Bucky’s arms.

‘Cause you were all yellow...

The room lit up with a blinding yellow light.

You were gone.

The room is filled with cries and the screams from the former assassin.

He weeps against your chest. Cursing himself for letting this happen. No one hurts his doll.

“We gotta go Fury needs us back ASAP.” Natasha says with barely any emotion. She feels numb.

Bucky lets out a mad yell and starts punching the ground before those screams turn into more sobs.

Bucky gathers himself as best as possible and picks your limp body up.

It’s time to go.

-

It’s been three months since your funeral.

Bucky can’t get over you.

He barley can eat, barley showers, he can’t even get out of bed. The only time he gets out of bed is when he goes down to the shooting range and gets his anger out. Otherwise, he’s a stone.

“Hey Buck do you want to try to come eat dinner with the team?” Steve asks Bucky with a soft voice.

“Not hungry.” Bucky replies covering himself back up.

Steve let’s out a sigh and sits on the end of Bucky’s bed.

“Can- can you please leave?” Bucky asks Steve. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone and he’s surprised because no one has really tried to talk to him either.

“You got to come downstairs and eat dinner.” Steve says, this time more sternly.

“I said, I’m not hungry.” Buck grumbles and covers his head with a pillow.

“Okay you made me do this.” Steve stands up and clears his throat.

“Y/n, sacrificed herself for you to live.” Bucky cut Steve off.

“Don’t- don’t say her name.” Bucky voice starts to crack and his eyes glaze over.

“No, Bucky. You’ve been in your room for almost 4 months straight. You’re not even trying to get over it. You’re not letting yourself feel those emotions and you need to or you’ll never get over her. She did that so you could live a happy life.” Steve pauses and Bucky lifts his head up and wipes his tears away.

“Come downstairs and eat dinner with us. She would of wanted it.” Bucky stands up and sighs.

“Okay.”

They both walk downstairs and when they see Bucky they all smile and tell him to come sit down and eat.

They all talk and have a good time.

Bucky actually smiles for the first time since you died.

He can get through this.

Alternate shoot ending if that was to sad

Bucky shot up in a sweat, tears running down his face. His breaths are quick and unsteady.

“Shh Bucky come here.” You say from beside him.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to have nightmares so you know what to do.

“Y/n?” Bucky questions, his eyes wide.

“Yeah bub I’m right here.” You wrap an arm around him and rub his non-metal shoulder.

“I had a dream you died.”

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

⤷𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘭𝘰𝘬𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘧𝘦𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘵'𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘬𝘶, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦

[maladaptive daydreaming: psychiatric condition, causes intense daydreaming that distracts a person from their real life –but in a good, protecting way.]

𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙤 𝙢𝙖𝙭𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙛𝙛: at first, he thought that you are just simply bored from him, looking into the infinite distance (or arcoss the wall above his shoulder, or out on the window, lingering your eyes on the cute birds on the pylon). but then, we you told him your thingy thing, he got more protective of you, mainly when the two of you took long trips even at night on the metro or one of tony’s super machines back from a fight.

leaning on his shoulder, your hand slipping out from his grasp –he pats your head, waiting for your response, but when you let out a little sigh, he knows that you’re in your little world. looking around, pietro wraps his arm around you, kissing your head, even try to cover your ears if the noise is too loud –don’t even minding carrying you by your waist or in bridal style. when your daydreams disappears, you hold his hand, feeling comfortable around him. “i daydreamed again... sorry.” sitting down, he kneels before you, brushing through your hand too, slowly raising up to kiss you softly, not wanting to rush out from your haze because of the after-effects.

“don’t worry, baby”, he mutters, helping you up to go ahead. “let’s get you home and nap, hm?”

𝙡𝙤𝙠𝙞 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙛𝙚𝙮𝙨����𝙣: he reads your mind immediately when you doze off, seeing nothing but tender, soft pictures about your imagination. brushing your shoulder, when you just blink up to him, waking up from the dream, wiggling and gasping a little bit. “loki, i-i... i have to tell you something. it is too bad, but i have these daily beddings, sometimes persistent, sometimes not, and when i’m not paying attention to you, i’m just–” you babble, but loki only touches your forehead with the pads of his fingers, brushing down on your eyes to close it.

“i know, my queen.” manipulating your fantasy, he shows you the most beautiful, most marvellous things he had ever seen, stroking your soul –seeing your musing, faint smile, he ends slowly, in case if he’s leaving a too big space in your head. “you liked it, sweet queen?” “yes, of course, this is so wonderful, ethereal...”

“just like you.” flashing his glorious smile, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

after that, he tells to every slave that if you’re in your dream-state, don’t them dare to disturb you. loki even speaks with frigga, trying to decode your dreams. when some mindless freak tries to harm you because of this, he will fight them with your manner: sneaking into his head, tearing them apart to leave you alone. he tries to protect your little world with everything he has, i promise you. 

𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨: in the beginning, bucky thought your dreams are bad dreams, or bad memories, just like his –when he saw that your glazy eyes, neutral features, bucky tried to ‘wake you up’, and this little action kinda ended in your freak-out, shaking a little bit, babbling something like –“i’m fine, bucky, sweetheart, don’t worry...” seeing that you’re a little fright, shaken up from your deepest fantasies, he tries to make it up to you. 

“sorry, doll... i just thought that you have some bad stuff too, and i don’t want you to suffer. but shaking is not the best option, i know.” you giggled at his words, grabbing with both of your hands his mechanic one. 

“don’t worry, it happens very often with me. these times i wander to my little universe, filled up with people, with things i like... with you.” seeing his shy smile, you look up at him. at night, with you in his arms, he thought about your talent all day –“what do you think, can i grow my own world too?” he asks, curling a lock behind your ear as you place your head on his chest. 

“of course, buck. everybody can do this, i’m just... pro about this thing. just try to think on only good places, people or memories you have, and let your mind bury yourself under it.” 

“it sounds a little bit scary, doll, you sure you’re alright with doing this?” you hum, placing a kiss to the place where his collarbone met his shoulder, poking out a little bit. while you drive off into fairly dreams, he tries to think on the things you told him –mostly on you. like here, laying with him in the peace of the night, your silky hair touching his skin.  

pulling up the blanket to cover you, he maybe began to like this little world-thing with you. 

𝙩'𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖 𝙪𝙙𝙖𝙠𝙪: t’challa knows the importance of the healthy soul and the poise of the mind –but still a little bit surprised about your almost die-hard self-discovery. when the two of you first met, you were with natasha (i think on the congress of the sokovian pact –even if you don’t sign it), you zone out a little bit, only shaking back to the earth when your friend asks you. he find himself impressed with you very fast, despite that sometimes you get lost in your thoughts, you have a very bright mind, and your personality is really interesting for him. but he’s still find your daydreaming a little bit worrisome –t’challa respects you rather than asking you something inconvenient, so he asks his sister, who’s also one of your best friends. 

“so, y/n”, shuri starts when she parts from her microscope, rolling with her chair to another desk, grabbing some tissues and test tubes –“what about your tiredness? do you get enough sleep these days?” 

you lolled your legs on the high counter, snapping your head to her side, nodding a little bit. 

“yeah, i’m fine. i’m perfectly fine, i’m just... a daydreamer, i guess.” you told her about the facts, and narrated a little about the plots you had in your mind.

“that’s cool, i mean– i just asked because t’challa cares about you... i mean, i am too! he just mentioned that he want you to feel yourself in behavior.” 

and on the other day, tomorrow, when he comes to you to offer you a breakfast, you just know that he really cares about you.

𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚: stephen would see your problems with his realistic mentality, and he thinks at first that you’re just frenzied, giddy, and can’t stay in the entity without being hypnotized. although, his worst kind of scenario is that you’re catatonic –but when you tell him, he’s very understanding, even if the rest of his friends think that stephen’s just a bit narcissitic. he would be overprotective if someone’s messed in you, even if you’re not there with him.

“how’s life, doc?” tony asked, turning to the half-broken or simply medium height pile, ignoring all bruce’s, wong’s and his worries about the enemy of the entire world. 

“it’s strange.” he responds coldly, wanting to continue the talk with bruce about thanos, but tony in his irritating way, still interrupt it. “my life is substantially okay, but that’s not why we’re here.” 

“what’s up with your weird friend... girlfriend? does she still get woozy, or it’s just when you’re around her?” 

that was the time when stephen’s cape slapped down his leg, much to his astonishment but not to stephen. “what the heck was that, doc?”

“an expostulation. once, you keep cut off our converse, even if the world’s doom depends on it. secondly, my life is exactly not your business. and thirdly, you never can disregard or underrate my loved ones.” or loved one, he adds, ut only in his mind. 

“woah, okay, easy doc. i just asked. i didn’t knew that you have feelings like normal people.” 

stephen stares up, a laconic quip growling in his mind, but he don’t let it out. yeah, maybe he have feelings too. but only for you, for your freaky-dizzy self. 

.*ೃ✧₊˚.❁ ↷

𝘪'𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦ᵘʷᵘ

[navegandoaciegas]

Happy Early Birthday!! ❤️ I would love to ask for a bucky mobster AU. Ill leave the idea up to u 💖

Our forever begins now.

Pairing: dark!Bucky (mob) x reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, obsession, kidnapping, somnophilia, loss of virginity, breeding kink, set in the 20s, smut, explicit language.

Summary: You turn him down every occasion you get, but Bucky knows the only way to make you his forever.

Hues of orange danced in the fireplace besides him and cast a soft glow on your sleeping form, eyelashes resting against your cheeks and lips parted as you snored softly. You looked ethereal, sprawled on the pillows like that, the hem of your baby blue dress rising dangerously close to your knees, your chest heaving with even breaths.

Bucky sighed and sat besides you, hand slowly reaching out to trace the lines of your collarbones, up to your neck, sofly grazing your cheeks. So peaceful, so beautiful. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the thought of waking up everyday with your soft, warm body besides his, your gentle smile greeting him, your shy caresses grounding him when the horrors of his life become too much.

A frown marred his face when he realized you’d eventually wake up, and put up a fight like you always did whenever he got near you, talked to you, or asked you out. He shook your disgusted looks out of his thoughts and focused on your peaceful form.

After all, once he put a baby inside you, you’d have no choice but be his, forever.

-

He knew he should’t, because even a man like him understood where the line between bad and evil stood, but he couln’t help himself. Not when you looked so pretty, not when you could’t sneer at him, tell him how disgusting men like him were.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, shakingly lowering his face to yours, his lips grazing your plump ones. For years he dreamt about how you would taste, how well your body would melt into his, how nicely your moans would resonate in his ears. And finally he had you in his arms like you were meant to be.

His heart beat out of his chest as his hands roamed over your body, trembling hands reaching to undo the buttons of your dress, exposing the silky skin of your breasts. He flushed, feeling his cock stir in his pants.

He worshipped your sleeping form, tracing your curves with his fingertips, nipping at the skin of your throat, kissing every inch of you until he was sure he’d marked you whole.

His, only his. Now and always.

You didn’t react, barely groaning when he reached for your undergarments and slipped the off you, exposing the velvety hair on your mound, his mouth watering at the sight of your juices gathering on them.

He’d never done this before, but he felt the impulse to kiss your glistening folds as if he was kissing your lips, and so he did. He dug in like a man starved, swirling his tongue around and drinking up your arousal. He revelled in the way your body jerked involuntarily, a light sheen of sweat gathering on your forehead.

-

There was heat pooling in your lower belly, new but not unwelcome. You stirred in your sleep, your bed more comfortable than you ever remembered it to be.

A wave of pleasure startled you awake, and you recognized the jolts of electricity you’d only ever felt in the privacy of your room, when your fingers found their way into your undergarments, and you furiously rubbed your little pearl trying to release the coil in your belly.

You were still panting as your last memories rushed back to you, the skinny blond boy luring you into an alley with his pained cries, the hand that closed down on your mouth, a thick golden ring pressing on your cheek as your vision grew spotty and you lost consciousness.

You weren’t surprised when the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes was James Barnes, the bane of your existence, the man whose family owned New York but who could’t resign himself to the fact that he could’t own you. And his face was hovering over your spread legs

“Goodmorning dollface.” He greeted you, a toothy grin on his face. If he weren’t worse than the Devil himself, you’d have found his smile pretty.

“What-“, you croaked, but your throat was so dry you could barely get a word out. You flailed, attempted to scream and push him off, but he was too strong for you to fight him.

He shushed you, his loving gaze terrifying you more than anything else in the world. “It’s okay my love, it’s you and I, the way it’s meant to be.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m not. You don’t see it yet, but you will. You’ll love me as much as I love you.”

“Please.” You whispered, tears blurring your vision, holding onto the small beacon of hope that he’d be moved by your cries, “Please let me go Buck, I promise I won’t tell anyone, and I- I’ll go out with you, just like you asked me.” You begged him, hoping he’d listen to your desperate pleads. “We’ll go get milkshakes and then we’ll go to the pictures, yes? And we’ll go dancing, and you’ll leave me at my doorstep at 11, yes?”

You recited the words he’d told you a thousand times before and managed a pained smile, nodding furiously and clutching his pressed shirt. “Anything but this, please.” You sobbed.

What did you do to deserve this?

He cooed you, that deluded look never leaving his eyes.

“Don’t cry my love, I’d never hurt you.”

You heard the clattering noise of his belt and began struggling again, trashing underneath his body, desperate to get as far away as possible from this unhinged maniac.

“Just be a good doll.” He grunted, a hard thing poking your untouched entrance, “And you’ll like it too.”

“Please Bucky, it’s not too late, we can start over agai-“ you were interrupted by him slanting himself inside you all at once, and you felt like he’d knocked all the breath out of you.

An agonizing sound escaped you, your lips wobbling and hands slapping his away as he pounded into you, the pain of it all too much for you to bear.

“Stop please, stop. It hurts, Bucky, please.”

“So perfect.” He moaned in your ear, “Made for me.”

The more he thrust inside you, the more the pain subsided to a dull ache, and you felt the tell tale tingle of your walls as they fluttered around him, your own body betraying you.

You cried and sobbed and cursed yourself for being so damn weak.

“I can feel your cunt clamping down on my cock, sweetheart. I know you like it too, no need to lie.” He purred, his hips snapping faster against yours, “I’ll make you cum on my cock and then I’ll fill your pussy up with my seed.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, a sense of doom overcoming you as you felt the coil in your belly get tighter.

“I’ll fuck a baby inside you, you’ll be so pretty all round with our child.”

Air couldn’t reach your lungs anymore, your chest heaving heavily as you gasped. Not a child, anything but a child, you wanted to beg, but you knew he would’t listen.

A hand snaked its way to your bud, and began circling it as his thrusts became sloppier and your walls clamped down on him.

“Cum, cum all over my cock. Let me hear you.”

You came together, and you emitted with a strangled moan, jolts of electricity shooting from your core to your limbs, white hot pleasure engulfing you whole. Shame burnt hot on your face as you stared at the ceiling. His hot release spilled inside you, and you felt warmth and fullness in your stomach like you’d never had before.

“I feel your cunt milking my cock, doll.” He smiled at you, clinging to your body, fingertips leaving feather like touches on your belly. “I know you wanted it too.”

You had no strenght left in you to fight him, exhaustion and humiliation having tired you out.

“I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my child, and then I’ll fuck another into you, and you’ll always be heavy with my children.”

He nuzzled your cheeks, words and affection of a lover, a stark contrast to the barbaric actions of a monster.

“Why?” You whispered, voice feeble and defeated.

“Because you won’t ever leave, babydoll. You’ll always be mine.”

He kissed your cheeks and raised the blood stained covers over your naked bodies, his limbs tangled into yours.

He was right. No respectable man would want a woman defiled by a mobster, and your parents would throw you out of the house, thinking you were whoring yourself out to the Devil.

“Our forever begins now, doll.”

-

I hope you liked this! Please let me know what you think of it!!

Reminder that my requests are open!🤍

[all1e23]

Chocolate Dipped

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Steve has finally had enough of these two idiots. 

Warnings:  Angsty stuff. 

A/N:   I am feeling better! Just in time to make you guys cry for Christmas. This is in Steve’s POV at the start. I think I grabbed everyon’s tags but I was pretty sick this week. If I forgot to add you please shoot me an ask and I’ll correct it today. Also, half edited. I got lazy. lol If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me!  This is the sixth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

“You goin’ home tonight, buck?” 

Steve hung around the doorway to Bucky’s office, hovering like a worried parent. The small room was lived in. Two weeks have passed since they attended Stark’s gala, and Bucky made it a point to work himself to death every single day since. There were cartons upon cartons of takeout, guest pillows from his penthouse on the leather couch that sat under the large windows on the south wall, and Steve caught Bucky wearing the same white button-up three days in a row. 

Bucky was avoiding something, and Steve had a decent idea of what that ‘something’ was. 

“Hm?” Bucky mumbled, barely looking up from his computer as he did. “Uh, no. Not tonight. I want to get this done for the Danvers account.” 

Steve sighed as he spun his keys around his fingers, debating how far he could push this before he drove Bucky away. 

“We have people who do that now, Buck. Go home and get some sleep. Wash your hair.” 

To Steve’s delight, Bucky looked up, humor lighting up his eyes and smile curling up the corners of his mouth. 

“You sayin’ I look bad, Stevie?” 

Steve forced through his concern long enough to grin. 

“I’m saying you haven’t been home since you broke up with Y/n. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?”

Bucky’s smile fell the moment Steve said her name, and his eyes fell back on his computer. He wasn’t going to talk about Y/n or their arrangement. There was nothing to say. It was never a real relationship as much as Bucky wanted it to be, so there was no reason to treat it as such. 

“I don’t have anything to say about it. There was no break-up. It was a temporary situation, and it’s passed. Let’s all move on with our lives.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Goodnight, Steven.”

The quiet tug of the door and the hitch of the latch echoes in Bucky’s empty office, leaving him alone in the darkened building. He knew Steve was trying to help, but Steve wasn’t. Bucky didn’t need to be babysat. He needed to go back to that coffee shop, pay for your coffee, and walk away before he let his heart fall yours. Yeah, he knew sulking in his office wasn’t going to fix anything, but he couldn’t face going home. Your toothbrush was still hanging next to his, that drawer in his dresser was full of your clothes, and there was the picture of the two of you resting on the nightstand. Taking down the pictures in his office was bad enough; at least here, the sheets didn’t smell like you.

It has been weeks when the hell was he going to get over you?

Bucky really hoped it would be soon. 

The bar was packed. No stool was empty, and the floor was full of kids half his age waiting for what was probably their first beer. Steve groaned. Dealing with grumpy Bucky and now this was completely unfair. The loud cheering made Steve wince as he pushed towards the middle of the crowd, it was hard to see through the crowd of twenty-year-olds, and he has never felt quite as old as he did at that moment. 

When did he become this grumpy old man? He blamed Bucky. 

Steve caught his wife’s whistle and grinned when he spotted her in one of those half booths that no one actually enjoys sitting at. 

“How is he?” 

Steve sighed and placed a kiss on her cheek as he squeezed into the seat next to her. That was a loaded question. He gripped his wife’s legs and pulled them over his lap, tucking her under his arm. Steve was going to make the most of the dollhouse-sized booth. 

“He’s… a mess. I know he misses her, but he won’t talk about it. I’m not sure what happened, but I don’t think it was a clean break like he’s making it sound.” 

“Do you think she left him?” 

He shook his head.  

No, Steve knew Bucky well enough to know guilt when he saw it. 

“I think Bucky didn’t speak up when he should have is what I think, and maybe she got tired of waiting to be more than a game.” 

Steve took a sip of Sharon’s red wine and made a face. She grinned and ran her fingers through his bread, scratching gently until he hummed softly and leaned into her touch.

“Well, I think,” Sharon whispered, watching the sleepy smile tug at Steve’s lips. “We are stuck sitting at the bar. The dining room is full of what appears to be teenagers. Somehow when we weren't looking, we became the oldest people in the room. It's a tiny booth or share a table with strangers.” 

“That’s alright. We can stay right here.” Steve nudged her chin up with two fingers and smiled. “I like being stuck with you.” 

“You think that sweet talk is going to get you somewhere?” 

“Pretty confident. Bucky taught me all I know."  

Steve grinned and pecked her lips.

A loud voice interrupted Steve’s train of thought and he couldn't help but listen in. 

“Look, if fancy man bun can’t see how awesome you are, then you don’t need to waste your time on him.” Steve tried to fight his smile. Whoever that was, he wouldn’t mind sharing a table with them.

“But… I think I love him.”

Steve froze when he heard your voice, and he subtly peeked over his shoulder to find you sitting at a table nearby. You weren’t alone. There was a blond guy he didn’t know, his arm was around your redheaded friend that scared the life out of him sometimes, Nat he was pretty sure, and another red-haired woman he didn’t know. He turned back around before you caught him spying, and he tried to listen over the boisterous shouts and loud, obnoxious music.

This was getting ridiculous. He was getting too old to go to places like this.

“And that sucks,” The guy continued."He’s shit for dragging you along because he knew how you felt. Everyone knew. I’m not saying marry Johnny Lightning--”

You were talking about Bucky.

“Storm.”

“Storm. Whatever. I’m not saying marry him, but it will help take your mind off the asshole who broke your heart.”

“First of all, I only know his name. I don’t have his number because I don’t want to go out with him, Clint. I don’t want anyone else. Can we just stop talking about this, please? It’s bad enough you drug me out of my nice warm bed and made come here. Please stop talking about Bucky.”

“I wasn’t going to let you hide in bed for the rest of your life,” The woman -- Nat, said with a hint of venom in her voice. “I wish you would have talked to him like I told you to. Something is off about this whole thing.”

“I didn’t have time! Things were over before I realized they were.”

“You could go talk to him now?”

“What’s the point? He’s obviously done with whatever we were. I haven’t heard from him in days.”

Bucky was the one that broke up with you? Steve hadn’t expected that, but perhaps he should have.

Steve fidgeted enough to wiggle his phone out of his pocket, silently quieting Sharon before she could make a fuss and draw your attention. He snapped a picture over his shoulder, even though he shouldn’t. You were staring at rose necklace Bucky gave you in Boston while your friends chatted amongst themselves, your eyes were red and puffy like you had been crying non-stop for days. You looked incredibly lonely for someone sitting in the middle of a crowded bar and surrounded by friends.

He dropped the image into a message and sent it off to Bucky.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Steve placed a kiss on Sharon’s head and slid out of the booth, smiling at her confusion. He walked straight to your table and stopped next to you, making a point to get his shoes and black dress pants in your line of vision. You looked up, and your fingers slipped off the necklace, your mouth fell open and stuttered incoherently.

“Y/n, I think we should talk.”

-----------------------

Across town, Bucky sat in his office, still sitting at his desk hours after Steve left him only now he was staring at his phone instead of his computer. Bucky hasn’t been able to look away from the damn thing since Steve’s text came in over twenty minutes ago. You looked good. Great. A little sad, maybe, but beautiful. He read Steve’s words one more time, and his heart clenched again.

She doesn’t look like someone who moved on. I think you left a few things out of the story.

So he did leave some things out. It was his right to leave out whatever he wanted to. Steve didn’t need to know why things didn’t work out. It wouldn’t change the outcome.

“Hi.”

Bucky’s fingers shook at the sound of your voice, so much so he dropped his phone back onto his desk. You stood in the doorway to his office, fidgeting and uncomfortable. You were still in that little black dress you were wearing in the photo, so you must have come straight from the bar. Bucky slowly leaned back in his chair, his eyes glued to yours.  

“Hi… what are you doing here? How did you get in?”

You looked guilty, and Bucky had to fight back a grin.

“Steve gave me his ID.”

You held up a little white card as an explanation and gave him that same shy, nervous smile you gave him when he offered to pay for your coffee all those months ago. Steve could never just mind his own damn business. Nosy little punk. 

Bucky should probably thank him for meddling this one time -- depending on how the rest of this night goes.

“Of course, he did.”

You took a few steps in, just enough that you could place the card on Bucky’s desk a keep your distance. Bucky watched your eyes scan his desk for your missing pictures, and he wanted to jump in and tell you they were on the bookshelf behind him now. They were hard to look at it all the time now. He saw relief flood you as you spotted them.

He still didn’t understand why you were here.

“Is everything okay, sweet girl?”

The name just slipped out. Bucky hadn’t meant it to. You weren’t… well, you weren’t anything anymore, and he didn’t have a right to call you pet names, but he couldn’t help it. Bucky wanted to call his sweet girl forever. Would have, too, if only the stars had aligned the way Bucky had wanted.

Bucky watched you as hesitated. You took a step forward and then stopped as if you were trying to decide where to go, towards him or out the door. He saw the conflict in your eyes as you fought with yourself, and then you stood up taller with your shoulders squared, having made your choice. You strode towards Bucky with determination, walking around his desk, and Bucky pushed off from his feet, letting his chair roll back enough to give you the space you needed-- wanted.

He hoped it was what you wanted.

Bucky didn’t move or make a sound. Just held his breath and waited.

You sank down on his lap, straddling his waist as you’ve done during the hundreds of times you’ve visited him in his office. Bucky waited until you settled comfortably, and his hands came up to wrap around you and rest against your backside. Your own find their favorite spot tangled in his hair, and the tears catching in your lashes were caught right away.

It took every ounce of strength he had not to lean in and kiss those tears away.

“You left.” You whimpered. “Just disappeared and stopped talking to me like we were never… something.”

Bucky’s heart twisted into something dark and ugly. He hadn’t thought there was much to say. Things had been off since he came home from Boston, and then that boy, he didn’t think there was anything left after that.

“I thought--” Bucky’s arms tightened around you, fingers pressed into your skin as he forced himself to admit what he was scared of since he first met you -- you didn’t really want him. 

“I thought maybe you liked that kid from the gala. He's closer to your age and… he could be someone who wants the same things you want. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me if you didn’t want-- if this was temporary. I thought that’s what you wanted.”  

“No, that’s not what I want.”

Bucky swiped his thumb under your right eye, wiping away the tears he could no longer stand to see. He didn’t know how to ask if you loved him or how to tell you that he wanted more, but this? He knew this. Bucky’s spent the last eight months asking you want you wanted and doing everything he could to give it to you.

He could do this.

“What do you want, babygirl? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

There was only one thing you wanted.

“I want you to love me,” you choked out in a desperate, hopeless plea. “I want you to love me like I love you. I want you to be in love with me.”

“Oh, baby.”

Bucky cupped the back of your neck and let the other rest on your back, firmly holding you in place on his lap. This was something he should have said months ago.

“I’ve been in love with you for months. Maybe since I bought you that first cup of coffee and you looked at me with those sweet lips and pouty eyes. You’ve had my love, sweet girl.”

You sniffed and took a breath, your bottom lip still trembling as you twisted over his words.

“But-- I, I heard you telling you Sharon you didn’t want a future with me.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled, and his brow furrowed. “What? What are you talkin’ about, baby?”

“In Boston. That night you were drinking at the bar. I came down to… to see you, and you said you didn’t want a family right now and not with me.”

Bucky was smiling, and he could tell by your pout you were about to jump off his lap because of it. He couldn’t help it. This was good. The best news he has heard in weeks. This was all because he was an idiot, and he could fix that. He could stop being an idiot. Bucky took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around your waist, letting the chair lean back all the way, so you fell against his chest, and your feet came off the floor just enough to make you unstable if you tried to get up on your own.

He needed you to stay put a little longer, and if you wanted to leave after he said his peace, he would let you go.

"Did you hear what I said after that?”

“No," you squeaked. “I ran back up to our-- your room.”

“Our room.” He corrected.

"Our room." You amended. "Then you came up and we-- Well, we made-- we..."

Bucky didn't need you to say anymore. He remembered. Bucky absolutely remembered making love to you. He held you against him and carefully explained what really happened that night.

“I did say that, but that wasn’t what I meant. It came out all wrong, and you'll be happy to know Steve and Sam would beat my ass to defend you without a second thought. What I meant and what I explained to them that night was I wanted to wait until you were ready for all that because if I’m going to do all that? Get married and have kids; I only want to do it with you.”

You groaned and thumped your head against his chest. “Why is Nat always right? She said you didn’t mean it. That it was a mistake.”  

Bucky chuckled quietly. His fingers gently rubbed at your scalp, and his lips found your skin, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “Probably because she could see it written on my face. According to Sam, I look like a lovesick idiot every time you’re near me.”

Forcing yourself to lift your head, you met his eyes and whispered,” Bucky, I do love you, and I don’t want that dumb bellhop from Boston or any other guy. You’re all I want, but I’m not ready to get married right now. I know you are, and if you want all that right now-- I don’t know, okay? I graduate in May, and then I want to work and-- and --I don’t think I can--”

Bucky’s thumb settled over your lips, stopping your panic.

“I know, and that’s why I said I wanted to wait. Let you find your footing in a new job and get yourself settled there before we even talk about it. I wanted to tell you all this in Boston. Tell you how much you mean to me. How you’re all, I think about, every damn day and the nights that I’m not with you are like torture.”

Your eyes twinkled with someone Bucky didn’t like, and his cheeks warmed right away.

“So that was the whole picnic thing? And renting out the skywalk?”

Bucky nodded sheepishly.

“I might have chickened out. I was worried you didn’t feel the same, and I wasn’t ready to lose you.”

One thing was certain; you were made for each other. You were both idiots.

“So, you do see a future with me?” You asked, nerves showing through your shaky voice. You needed to be sure. You couldn’t go through all that again. 

“You weren’t just changing the subject with sex every time?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, the chair under you shaking from the force of it. You pursed your lips. He didn’t have to laugh so hard. It was a serious question. Bucky gave your hip an apologetic squeeze and shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean to do that. It was incredibly sexy to hear you say you only wanted... me. You could have asked me for anything, and you just wanted me. I like that."

“It’s true, though. I don’t want any of that other stuff. You’re the only thing I want, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and his hand slipped under the hemline of your dress. “Somethin’ you want… right now?”

Your slender fingers gripped his wrist, and you shook your head. “Nope. What I want right now is to get you home, shower, and maybe sleep till late tomorrow. I haven’t-- I haven’t been sleeping great lately.”

The confession made Bucky remember how terrible he probably looked from his own sleeping habits over the past eighteen days. The last he saw in the bathroom mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, were getting pretty hard to hide. His beard was unkempt and thick and Steve wasn’t wrong about needing to wash his hair. He raised the arm you were still clutching and pressed a kiss to your fingers.

“This how it’s going to work from now on? Just goin’ tell me what to do all the time?”

“Yep. That’s how it works when I’m your girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen dramatically, and Bucky grins.

“I am… I mean, it’s okay I said that, right?”

“Well, you are my girl.”

Bucky can feel your tension deflate, and he really likes the smile on your face.

“Mmm, and you’re my sugar. My sweet fella.”

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg another taylor x stevetony stan!!! if you're feeling it, can i ask for a 'dont you'-inspired steve/tony fic?? the angst potential (and ofc happy ending) of that song is just *chef's kiss* and perfect for steve and tony! thank youuu

ahhh I love that you sent me this! don’t you absolutely screams stevetony

hope you like this one :)

He knew it would happen sometime or another. At some party or event that Tony doesn’t even want to be at in the first place, or maybe crossed paths on the sidewalk or the grocery store. For a city with millions of people, it’s still near impossible to avoid someone forever in New York. It doesn’t help that all of his friends, with few exceptions, were Steve’s first and cutting them out of his life was just too hard on top of losing him. 

From them he knows that Steve moved on. A few dates here and there in the beginning, stops and starts for the first couple months after the break up that gave Tony a false sense of hope that maybe it wasn’t quite over. Maybe Steve was having such a hard time starting with someone else because he couldn't let go of what they had, either. 

He doesn’t know the new girl’s name. Couldn’t bring himself to ask and none of his friends were offering anything except for sympathy. All he knows is that she’s blonde and beautiful and makes Steve smile in all of the photographs. She’s only been around for a month now, longer than the others have lasted, but Tony knows that this one means that it’s really done. There’s no recovery for them this time. 

Unfortunately, knowing he would run into Steve eventually doesn’t quite prepare him for the reality of it. 

He isn’t expecting to see Steve here of all places. It’s too late in the night, for one thing, going half past two on a Thursday morning. Tony’s eyes are aching with exhaustion, and he’s been swirling around the last dregs of his drink for far too long. He hates this coffee shop and its poor excuse for espresso and too bright fluorescent lights. Hates the playlist with the same ten songs in a loop and the guy behind the counter who never stops snapping his fingers along with it, but it’s the only one around him that stays open this late. It’s sort of their brand, giving lonely, pathetic people like him somewhere to be, and that’s another reason why Steve doesn’t belong here. 

Tony looks up at the chime of the door opening, along with the other two occupants, and he shrinks into his chair when he recognizes that familiar golden hair and broad frame. Seven months isn’t nearly long enough to be able to forget the sight of him. Steve’s hands are in the pocket of his sweatshirt, and his cheeks are pink with the cold. He walks up to the counter and orders while Tony contemplates running out the door. 

He wonders if Steve would notice, though. If he would get caught running away and how embarrassing that would be. Then he’s wondering if he should approach first to make it seem like he doesn’t care. Play the unaffected, blasé role like he’s doing just fine these days. But would Steve see through him? Would he take one look into Tony’s eyes and just know the truth in that easy way of his? Probably, he thinks. His pale skin looks like it hasn’t seen daylight in quite a while, and he’s clearly behind on haircuts these days and not in a good way. 

In the end the choice is made for him, because he’s so busy running through the possibilities that he doesn’t notice that Steve is already coming over, not until he’s right there and saying, “Hey, Tony.”

Tony straightens instantly, almost knocking over his cup with the quick movement and catching it at the last second. He winces internally, the casual act already ruined. “Steve, um, hi.”

Steve’s smile is soft, sending a sharp pang through Tony’s chest. He points to the chair opposite him and asks, “Do you mind?”

Tony shakes his head, and the chair’s metal legs scrape against the linoleum when Steve sits down. Steve leans forwards, elbows on the table and hands wrapped around the paper cup of what Tony would bet is peppermint hot chocolate. 

Neither of them speak, awkward, stifling silence settling between them like a weight that Tony can feel. There’s no safe topics between them anymore, and that hurts to realize more than it probably should. 

“How have you been?” Steve finally asks, and Tony almost laughs. 

“Fantastic. What about you?” he replies dryly.

Steve cracks another small smile. “Same here, I guess. I heard about the launch coming up. Nat mentioned it a couple of weeks ago, said it was running a bit behind schedule. How’s that going?”

“Back on track.”

Steve nods, taking Tony’s short answer in stride. “She mentioned there was a problem with the battery -”

“We don’t have to do this,” Tony interrupts, gesturing between the two of them. “The whole catching up thing and acting like we’re friends. It’s really not necessary.”

He sees the bobbing of Steve’s throat when he swallows, and Steve stares at a spot somewhere over Tony’s shoulder so he isn’t looking at him anymore. “I wasn’t trying to pretend to be friends, I just thought…”

Steve trails off, and Tony asks, “Thought what?”

“That it’s been long enough that maybe we could just actually be friends again. Like it used to be, before everything.”

“Like it used to be,” Tony echoes. “That’s what you want?”

“You were one of my best friends, you know,” Steve says, and he meets Tony’s eyes again. “You knew me better than just about anyone, even Buck sometimes. I miss that. Don’t you?”

Of course he does, but that’s not what he misses most. He misses waking up with Steve’s heartbeat beneath his ear and the warmth of his arms. Misses those little jokes and lingering looks, the way that Steve could make everything else just disappear with one touch. 

Tony remembers thinking back then, before everything, as Steve called it, that being Steve’s friend would be enough for him, when he thought his feelings were one-sided and everything he actually wanted was unattainable. But now that he knows what it feels like to have everything, just some of it can’t possibly be enough anymore. 

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Tony says, pushing back from the table. “I can’t.”

He walks out without looking back, hands shoved deep into his pocket and head down against the wind. The sting in his eyes has a new source, but he refuses to let anything fall. Steve doesn’t get to have that kind of effect anymore. He’ll keep pretending to be fine, until hopefully it stops being an act one day.

“Wait,” Tony hears. “Please don’t leave.”

If anything he walks faster, shaking his head. “Just let it go, Steve. We aren’t anything to each other anymore.”

Steve’s hand catches his elbow, spinning him back around and keeping him there. “I don’t think that’s true. Maybe we can’t be friends, but we’re not nothing.”

“You broke up with me,” Tony reminds him pointedly. “That makes us nothing.”

Sadness and pain contort Steve’s features. “I know I did, but -”

“But nothing. You have somebody else, and I’m really trying to be happy for you and to be happy on my own, and I can’t do that and still have to see you. That’s not fair to me.”

“I don’t have somebody else. There’s no one.”

Tony folds his arms over his chest. “Don’t lie. I’ve seen the pictures, and I still talk to your friends.” 

“We broke up,” Steve says, and then he hesitates. His other hand reaches for Tony’s hip, and he takes a step in closer. Tony’s breath catches in his throat at the proximity and at the feeling of Steve’s hands on him again after so long without it. “She said she didn’t want someone who really wanted someone else, and I realized that I’d rather be alone than with anyone but you.”

Tony bites his lip, having to look away from the intensity of Steve’s gaze. It’s too much and not enough and he doesn’t know how to process any of it. But if there’s any chance of having this back, he won’t hesitate to take it. 

“We’re still not friends,” he says. 

“Okay,” Steve murmurs. “So don’t be my friend then.”

“You broke up with me,” Tony repeats. “You left.”

“I was wrong.”

Tony huffs a laugh, “There’s a first.”

“I should’ve said it a long time ago,” Steve says earnestly. “I fucked up, and I didn’t think you’d forgive me, so I tried to move on, but it wasn’t working. Then you were here, and I don’t really want to be your friend, either, but it’s better than not knowing you at all. I don’t like not having you in my life, even if it means I can only get part of you. But, God, if you’d let me, I swear I’d never leave again.”

“You should’ve come back sooner.”

Steve’s face falls, hope extinguished. “I’m too late to fix this, aren’t I?”

He moves back, but Tony doesn’t let him go far. Steve’s jawline has more stubble than Tony can ever remember feeling before, and he runs his palm over the rough texture as he pulls him back. 

“You should’ve come back sooner, because we were both wrong,” Tony corrects. “We both fucked it up, and I don’t blame you for going, but I always want you to come back. Fight with me and slam doors sometimes, but come back.”

Steve nods, and his arms come back to hold him again. “I’ll come back next time.” 

“Every time.”

“Every time,” Steve repeats. “I promise.”

“And I promise I’ll try not to make you leave so much,” Tony smiles, and he gets one from Steve in return. Now that he has the real one again, he realizes just how hollow the ones in those photographs were. “Don’t listen to me when I tell you to go. I never really want that.”

“I hope you remember that you said that next time you try to kick me out.”

Tony laughs, “I’ll probably deny it, but don’t listen to that, either.”

“Always gotta read between the lines with you,” Steve murmurs, thumb stroking across his cheek. “Never make it easy on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony says honestly. 

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t be. You’re worth the effort.”

“Come back home with me?” Tony asks, and Steve kisses him softly, like a whisper of everything to come. 

“Always.”

There’s still more to talk about and issues to work out, but for right now, with Steve’s hand back in his, this is enough.