#like yeah i want the heartbreaking buck screams but also this would fix me

[chronicowboy]

imagine eddie already on a gurney after flying off the truck okay and hen's trying to block his view of buck dangling off the lader but chimnand bobby are dealing with buck and hen needs to grab something so she moves away just in time for eddie to find buck and watch his line snap and all he can do is whisper "evan"

[cucumbers-and-olives]

Unrequited Love: Part 2, Heartbreak Girl

<<<part one

Summary: At a band performance, you see Carrie in the crowd.

Category: Angst, songfic

Fandom: JATP

Paring: Carrie x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings/Includes: idiot characters who can't tell that the other is in love with them, spelling errors, weird time skips

A/N: alright, this has taken so long but its finally here! hope you guys like it!

Mandatory Thanking of the Betas: @wrhen @funsizearsonist , you guys have been so patient as this has sat in my drafts for sooooooo long, so thank you guys for your help/kindness!

Please don’t repost my work without my permission, in part or whole. My work can also be found on AO3 under the same username. Thank you!

You looked around the venue, the bright lights glaring you in the eye. The crowd shouted as you spoke, “This song goes out to someone important to me. To my Care-bear. She’s not here tonight, but if she was, this is what I would tell her.”

“One, two, three, four!” Your band's drummer, Kye, counted off.

-

Carrie walked in as the opening notes played from your guitar. In the noisy and busy venue, it was easy for her to blend in with the crowd where you couldn’t see her. Not that she was trying to avoid you, but after the other day… well she didn't know what would happen when the two of you got a chance to talk to each other.

-

As you played, your eyes drifted around the venue, looking for her, skimming past others who looked nothing like her, and ones who did. She said she would be here. She promised a week ago, no matter what. Maybe she’s in an area I can’t see? No, she said she’d be in the front.

“You call me up

It's like a broken record

Saying that your heart hurts

That you'll never get over him getting over you

And you end up crying

And I end up lying

'Cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do,”

“He broke up with me.” She collapsed on your bed, pulling a tub of ice cream out of her backpack. “And I have to walk around that school with a smile on my face and pretend I’m okay.” She looked over to you, sitting at your desk. You were fiddling with a pencil mindlessly.

“At least you can be honest with me.” You meant what you said, and you didn’t at the same time.

~ “God he's an asshole. I ended it.” It was first period, and you knew it would be a long day when she said that. But, it wasn’t gonna be a day at school.

~

“We’re over, for real this time.” The text came in at 12 pm, waking you up. The streets were dark as you drove to the grocery store (to get ice cream), and then to her house. You wondered how much sleep you were gonna get tonight, and clearly, not a lot.

~

“I can’t believe he ended it. I thought we were good for once.” She came in through the window this time. A tub of strawberry ice cream as always, it was Carrie’s favorite after all. “You know, he’s been staring at that Molina girl all week…”

All the calls and texts, it all became too much for you. Carrie and Nick were on and off like a light switch, and she couldn't even see the girl right in front of her. The girl that would do anything for her. Starting with being there. Always.

“And when then phone call finally ends

You say "Thanks for being a friend"

And I'm going in circles again and again,”

“Thank you.” She said, as your car stopped outside of her house. You nodded. You didn’t need to say anything.

~

“Thanks.” Carrie said, and you heard a beep from your phone as she ended the call.

“Anything for you. Always.” You whisper into the quiet nothingness.

~

“You’re awesome!” She hollered over her shoulder, running to class.

Carrie was honest each time she said that, as you helped her through heartbreak over and over. But now, she realized that it was way too much for you. She could see the pain in your eyes as you sang, still looking around for her, she presumed.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

And then you saw her. She was slowly moving through the crowd and she stopped in the middle subconsciously, as she turned to look to you. She didn’t move, she just froze and you did too. There was an awkward gap in the chorus until one of your band mates took over for you.

You still played your guitar, but your mouth didn’t move. You just watched her, and she watched you. Just staring at each other, her soft brown eyes looking back at you.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

“Hey,” Your band mate, Sam said, briefly stopping playing the guitar to tap on your shoulder. “You good? Ashley took over.”

You pulled out of your comatose-like state for a moment. “She came,” You said, and they had an “ah ha” moment.

You had a second more, before the next verse started, and she whispered something to you. “Plan B? Do you want to do it?”

“I bite my tongue

But I wanna scream out

You could be with me now

But I end up telling you what you wanna hear,”

You nodded as you jumped back in, harmonies forming for the first few words, as Ashley, who had covered for you, stopped singing. You just focused on Carrie, but you could hear Sam moving around the stage to let everyone know the plan.

You had time before everything went into action, so you just soaked in the lights, and the screams, and the adrenaline as you sang.

“But you're not ready

And it's so frustrating

He treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair

And when the phone call finally ends

You say "I'll call you tomorrow at 10"

And I'm stuck in the friend zone again and again,”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, before dance rehearsal,” Carrie said, after dumping all of her relationship problems on you.

You didn’t know what to say. She just called you, vented all of her problems, thanked you, hung up, and promised to call again. It was an endless, vicious cycle. And you didn't know how to break it.

“Yeah. Love you,” You muttered as you hung up the phone, tossing it across your bed. It clattered against a textbook softly, and a second later your phone lit up with a text.

You scrambled across the bed, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was apologizing. But it wasn’t even from her. It was your mom, asking if you could pick up some food from the store. It took a lot of effort to not scream.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

Carrie saw the movement on the stage, and it unfroze her for a moment. Your band mates moving onstage, with a plan.

She could see the happiness in your eyes, and the pain, as you sang. But there was too much movement on the stage, and she knew something was about to happen. You jumped into the second half of the chorus like nothing was happening.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl,”

Someone came up behind you, attaching a hands free mic to your head. There was some more shuffling behind you, and your guitar was now attached to what looked like a second mic pack in the back pocket of your jeans.

You looked over to Ashley, trying to convey the most “which way do I go” look, and she nodded to a set of stairs you hadn't noticed before. You smiled at her, and then you took a deep breath. You’d never done this before, no one ever does this.

“I know someday it's gonna happen

And you'll finally forget the day you met him

Sometimes I'm so close to confession

I gotta get it through your head

That you belong with me instead,”

The crowd parted as you walked through, like a school of fish, as you got closer and closer to Carrie. She started to back up a little bit when she realized what you were doing, but when she saw the look in your eyes, she stopped, and stood still.

Standing in the middle of the arena, all eyes on you as you sang.

It was just you playing. Just you singing. Raw emotion, and it took you back to writing the song.

~

“What are you working on?” Carrie asked, jumping on your bed.

You closed your notebook, “Uh just a song. Why are you here?” You said, changing the conversion to her. As far as you could remember, you didn't plan anything for this week.

“It’s Friday…” She said, and your brain clicked.

“The movies! Oh my god, I am so so sorry, can we go now?” You said, scrambling around your room, grabbing your jacket and your phone. “I’m ready now.” You looked at her, hope in your eyes that you could fix this situation that you messed up.

“Y/N/N, it’s 2 am.”

You were confused. “2? No, the last time I checked it was 10..” You picked up your phone, and Carrie was right. “Shit.” You looked up to her. “Ice cream?”

She grinned. “Ice cream.”

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

They were small, but she could see the tears coming down your face. The pain behind your eyes. She wished she could take it all back. Go back to the beginning and do it right this time.

But she knew she had messed up. That she couldn’t fix it this time. Fix the mess she made.

The salty tears that came down her face matched the ones on yours.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure

Heartbreak girl,”

You looked back to the stage and your band mates nodded to you.

~

“Is this about Carrie?” Kye asked, as you finished playing a bare, acoustic version of Heartbreak Girl.

“No…” But the look in your eyes told the otherwise.

Ashley shouted it victory. “Yes! Pay up Sammy, that’s 20 bucks you owe me.” She danced around a bit, before Sam handed her $20 and she sat down.

“I’m sorry- you all bet on me?”

They looked at each other. “No- definitely not…”

“Why would we ever do that?

~

You slowed the song down on this loop of the chorus. Your band mates slowly faded out, until it was just you.

“I dedicate this song to you

The one who never sees the truth

That I can take away you hurt

Heartbreak girl,”

You walked back up to the stage, just singing a capella now, the guitar at your side long forgotten.

“Hold you tight straight through the daylight

I'm right here, when you gonna realize

That I'm your cure?

Heartbreak girl.”

~

Hope you liked it! Send me an ask or fill out this google form to be added to my tag list(s)!

JATP: @n0wornever @calamitykaty @screwunsaidemily @crybabyddl @badwolf00593 @dream-a-little-bigger-x

[captain--sif]

Jar of Hearts

Word count: 1.3k Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley, Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & general fire fam Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bobby Nash, Athena Grant, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson Additional Tags: Halloween, 9-1-1 fire fam - Freeform, Heart, Pre-Slash, Getting Together, Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Crack Summary:

Buck can’t find where he put his heart. It’s affecting his mood. Notes: Happy Halloween @toughpaperround !

I did my best to make this into a treat, so I hope that’s what it is. If not, I hope you still like this trick.🤗

Based on the prompt: “You’ve stolen my heart, now take responsibility!” by @fic-chi

Read this on AO3, wattpad, or under the cut:

“I can’t find it,” Buck says, his phone wedged in between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are picking up random objects from his shelves, only to put them back down again once he’s sure there’s nothing inside or behind them. He abandons the shelves and turns to his kitchen instead, opening one drawer and then the next. “I’ve searched everywhere, Maddie, and I can’t find it.”

“Breathe, Buck,” Maddie’s voice rings through the speaker. “Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere? That you didn’t just misplace it? Have you looked in your spice drawer? How about one of the pillboxes in your bathroom cupboard.”

“It’s not there, I told you!” Buck yells. Then, softer: “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m just stressed.” He slumps against his kitchen island, grabbing his phone in his left hand and swiping his right hand over his face. Finally, he unclenches the shoulder previously keeping his phone in place.

“I know,” Maddie replies. “And I don’t want to tell you I told you so, but…”

Buck sighs, exhaustion seeping into his frame. “You told me not to take it out, I know.”

“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Maddie admits. Buck is glad she doesn’t sound accusing, just worried.

“I’ve had bad experiences.”

Maddie sighs. “And I know that. Do you need me to come over?”

“Maybe?” Buck admits. “Yes. Please.”

“No worries,” Maddie says, and Buck can hear her picking up her purse by the rustling sound it makes.

“Hello to you too.” Athena’s eyebrows shoot up, before sharing a look with her husband. “What was that about?”

Bobby picks up an oven mitt, grabs the pot on the stove, and pours the content into a bowl, shrugging. “Buck’s been kind of in a bad mood lately. I’ve tried to ask, but,” he sighs. “He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“And he’s being real cryptic about it,” Hen continues, motioning for Athena to come and sit down next to her.

Chimney grabs the bowl Bobby’s just filled and brings it to the table. “Maddie seems to know what it is about, but she doesn’t want to tell me, either.” He shrugs. “It seems Buck lost an important item, because she’s been spending a lot of time helping him search. I have no idea what it is.”

“It’s my heart!” Buck cries in frustration. “I’ve lost my heart. At least I thought so, but now Maddie made me consider that it might have been stolen.”

Chimney snorts. “You two keep saying that, but I don’t think that’s how it works. This,” he motions vaguely at Buck, “is not how heartbreak looks like.”

“Oh!” Athena perks up. “Who’s the lucky person who stole your heart, Buckaroo?”

“The last thing they are is lucky once I find them,” Buck mumbles glumly.

Athena’s eyes widen in surprise. She quips sarcastically: “I’m sorry I asked.”

“Good morning.” Eddie opens the door to a Buck with big dark rings around the eyes, his posture slumped, an apologetic expression on his face.

"Sorry that I'm dropping in this early. I've been a little on edge this morning and could use a distraction. Mind if I come in? Or do you have other plans?"

"No, sure," Eddie says, but he's not moving from the doorway. "Chris will sure be happy to spend Saturday with his Buck." He raises his voice a bit for the last part and there's a sound of something dropping heard in the background.

Buck frowns.

"Right, come in." Eddie opens the door a little further, "Do you want some coffee?"

"No, thank you," Buck shakes his head. "I'm crawling out of my skin as is already."

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. Buck thinks he looks slightly… disappointed?

“Chris is in the living room,” Eddie explains, a smile on his face again. “I assume he’s currently putting away his stuff.” Again with the raising of his voice at the end.

“It feels like you’re stalling,” Buck points out. “Why are you stalling? If this is a bad time to drop in, you could’ve just said so.” He’s motioning to the door and taking a step back again.

“No!” Eddie replies in a rush, before catching himself. He adds more calmly: “Please stay.”

This puts another frown on Buck’s face, but he’s not about to question Eddie’s words.

Instead, he passes him to step into the Diazes’ living room.

As Eddie said, Chris is scrambling to gather some things lying around on the table, but as soon as Buck takes a peek at the pulsating red thing in the familiar glass jar, he knows those things aren’t Chris’.

“You’ve stolen my heart!” he accuses Eddie, causing Chris to share an alarmed look with his dad.

Eddie sputters, looking flustered, color rising into his cheeks. “For screaming a love confession, you sound pretty angry.”

“My literal heart!” Buck reiterates. “The one that Chris is holding in the glass jar!”

Chris’ eyes fall onto the jar he’s holding in his hands, his eyes widening, before he cautiously  sets it back down on the table.

“Not that, um,” Buck clears his throat, his cheeks now matching Eddie’s, “the figurative meaning isn’t true,” he swallows. “But, um, I was talking about the very literal meaning.”

Buck breathes in deeply. “Would you care to explain why you took my heart?”

Chris sends another alarmed look towards his dad. But Eddie straightens, sighs, and begins an explanation: “The last time we were at your place, we broke it.”

Chris’ shoulders relax. Buck’s tighten.

“You broke my heart?” Buck says hysterically, his voice raising about an octave.

“But we took it home to fix it!” Eddie rushes to their defense. “And we did! All the tears are closed now. You cannot see a scratch. I even bought a new jar.” He’s pointing at the coffee table for Buck to see for himself.

“I don’t care why you took it,” Buck replies, eyes closed, pinching his nose. “I love you, Eddie, but that is my heart. You can’t just take somebody’s heart without asking. I need that thing to live. Did you think about the consequences before you took it? There’s no easy way to fix a heart. I--”

Buck opens his eyes “Wait. Did you just say you fixed it?”

“We-” Eddie starts, confusion about Buck’s sudden change visible on his face. “We did.”

“Look!” Chris adds, holding up the jar again, and this time instead of hiding it from Buck he proceeds to give it to him. “It looks just like before!”

Buck takes the glass container and turns it around on his palm. Eddie and Chris hadn’t lied to him, no more cuts were visible. No more abrasions. It looks as good as new.

Buck sits down on the couch.

Eddie and Chris share a look of concern and then carefully sit down on either side of him.

Buck is still staring at his heart in his hands. He exhales softly. “How did you manage that?”

“How did we manage what?” Eddie replies in kind.

“To fix it.” Buck’s voice is tinted with a mixture of dejectedness and awe. “It hasn’t looked like this since… I guess somewhere in my teens.”

Chris’ face lights up. “Can I tell him?” he asks his father.

Eddie’s eyes don’t leave Buck’s face. “Yeah, sure.”

“We went to a DIY superstore and got the fancy colorful glue that becomes invisible when mixed! Dad did most of the gluing, but I helped him hold it together and he let me mix the glue.”

A tear rolls down Buck’s face. “Thank you.” He puts his heart back down on the table and spreads his arms to put them around the people sitting at his sides. Chris doesn’t need to be told twice to lean into the hug. Eddie is a little more careful, but once he does, he’s all in.

Then, Buck clears his throat. “But if you ever take my heart again…” he threatens.

You can also find this fic on AO3 or wattpad.

[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt. 06

You’re Not Alone

06/16/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7,713

Masterpost          Warnings: sexual descriptions, violence, language, ANGST!

A/N: Since there is only one or two more chapters for this one, I think I’m going to finish this one out before I go back to Parallel and the Brightest Star. That’s not to say I’m not working on either of those. I am. But I’ll focus on posting these first since it’s almost over. I hope you like this one. Also, I legit didn’t edit so, mind the typos. I’ll come back and read it tomorrow when I’m not so crosseyed. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Bucky’s waiting in the small living room of the floor you share with him and Steve.

He's sitting on the sofa, black cargo covered legs spread wide. Feet flat on the ground and his hands tucked under his strong arms, crossed over his chest.

He’s not making any attempt to hide his displeasure. The rough tick in his jaw, the glare he has aimed at the TV is really for you and Steve. You know it is.

But why is he angry? Holding hands at the meeting?

When he turns it on you, that raging scowl, you release Steve’s hand as guilt builds inside your belly.

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, searching hopefully, despite his anger.

“Sounded like you were having fun. I was gonna go get you but Captain Spangled beat me there.” He’s bitter.

Oh no. Your heart stops as you realize that he must have seen. Must have heard.

What did you do?

The jealous sting in his voice you expect and the harsh glare thrown at you and Steve is more than understandable.

“Bucky…” You begin, but you don’t get much further.

“No.” He says, flat, unfeeling. For the first time in many years, you see the Winter Soldier.

The Soldat is diluted in Bucky. Suppressed. Bucky is almost free of him after years of careful reconditioning and therapy and recovery, but he’s there. Cold. Distant. And you did this to him.

You.

You’re scum. You’re shit. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You’re the worst kind of person on the planet.

You’re sorry but you don’t regret what you did with Steve.

You need to fix this.

“Bucky…please…” You beg, moving towards him.

He allows you to step up to him. He doesn’t pull back when you take hold of his forearms. You see the subtle shift in his eyes as your touch weakens his armor. The muscles beneath your hands tighten however, tense.

“Please. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” You promise.

You know it’s not enough but you want it to be. You want your words to heal his hurt. You need for him to trust in that because you love Steve, it doesn’t take away from how you feel for him. For Bucky.

“No.” Bucky says, finality in his tone.

It guts you. A knife plunged into the soft fleshy bits of you, twisted and yanked pulling with it everything that makes you whole and happy.

“Buck-" Steve tries but when Bucky’s ice-like eyes find his warm storm blues, he stops talking.

“I said no. My answer,” He looks back down at you and speaks to injure. He wants it to hurt you and you can’t blame him. “Is no.”

You had already known that what you shared with Steve down by the lake, in Brazil, and last night cuddled safely in his arms would be all you’d get.

You’d known it and it still hurts. It’s still agonizing.

“You’re gonna leave me now, right?” Bucky spits.

You’ve never seen him so angry and his rage burns you. It takes lashes at you, scarring you.

You don’t want to leave him. Of course, you don’t!

You’d talked a big game but now that you’re facing the choice, you can’t make your feet move. You want them both but the idea of walking away from Bucky is unbearable.

You won’t do that to him. You can’t.

You cry, tears spilling quick and sudden as you grip his arms harder, trying to pull him closer but he’s a statue. Immovable. Michelangelo’s David. Cut and perfect and stoic.

“No…” Your guttural sob chokes you.

How do you walk away? How do you live your life knowing they’re both somewhere loving someone else? They’re yours. Both of them. Bucky is forever emblazoned into your heart. If he leaves you, he takes it with you, leaving a shell.

Steve is your soul. He knows your inner thoughts. He knows your impulses. He knows your darkness and your light. You want him to know your love. Your most vulnerable self, unshielded, ready to surrender to his love and to love him with abandon.

You want to be spread out beneath him as he takes you as one. As part of himself. Like you already are with Bucky. Intimate and private and personal.

And Bucky! Bucky needs to see your inner workings. You want to show him your darkness and to find out if he can still love it. Love you. How can you choose? How can you leave?

But how can you stay?!

“-I l-love you, baby, please don’t push me away.” You plead.

Bucky huffs, pulls your hands away from his body and moves around you.

“BUCKY!” You cry, a torn whisper, half crazed with the thought of losing him forever.

You drop onto the sofa, fisting the plush cushion with writhing claws. Your crying is loud and ugly and you didn’t know you could die and still somehow be alive.

You scream into the sofa because you don’t know what else to do. Bucky took your strength with him. You’d chase after him but your body won’t obey. It’s broken.

It’s full of pain, confusion, but mostly guilt because this is all your fault.

He saw you and Steve. Bucky did.

He heard you. He was there. He saw Steve touch you and you touch Steve in ways that are only his.

Why are you so horrible? Why do you do this? Why can you only destroy?

You hear Steve leave too. On some plane of consciousness, you're aware of him banging on Bucky’s door. You hear the door open and then slamming and then a small muted ruckus. Then silence.

The silence is punctured only by your sobbing. Eventually that stops too and you’re very aware of the fact that it’s either very late or really early.

You shut your eyes and fall asleep. Emotionally spent.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re awoken by the gentle shake of a familiar hand. It’s not big. Not Steve. Definitely not Bucky.

“Y/N wake up. We got’im. We know where he is.” Nat takes her hand back and watches as you sleepily sit yourself up.

You teeter for a moment; caught between whatever dark dream you’d just woken up from and very real heartbreak you’re in.

“You okay?” She asks, wary either from the look on your face or the way your body seems to stutter.

“Yeah.” You croak. You clear your throat.

“Come on. We’ve got the jet going.”

You look towards the hallway towards the bedrooms. Bucky had stormed off that way and you faintly remember hearing Steve follow him.

“They’re already on the jet. You can change on the way. Come on.” She urges you, a strange gentleness in her voice that tells you she’s very aware of some part of what’s going on with you and your two boys.

No. Not yours. Rejected. And you can’t be with Steve. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

You sigh and get to your feet, slightly stung that neither of them woke you up.

The elevator ride down to the hangar is thick with words that need to be said. Not by you.

When she speaks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hands—covered in fingerless tac gloves—squeeze the metal bar along behind her.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice is pleading, guilty. Like you feel.

“For what?” You look at her, eyes bleary from sleep. You hadn’t even bothered to look at what time it is.

“I pushed him to go on that mission with you. I’ve been trying to get him to do something…about the way he feels about you, for a long time.” Nat flexes her jaw, then looks down at her feet before meeting you with an apologetic green gaze. “He told me that he kissed you. To make Bucky jealous? To help you two along? I could see how miserable he was and I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” You look away from her to stare at the metal doors. You did this to all of you. You. No one else.

“It’s okay, you know? Loving both of them.”

And you don’t know how it can be okay. Nothing is okay. For one fleeting moment, you think it might be better to be dead than without either of them.

The thought scares you and you gasp lightly.

“Y/N?” Nat moves towards you, placing her hand on your lower back. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” You growl, not meaning to but you’re so angry at yourself.

Angry for hurting Bucky. Angry for loving Steve and hurting him too. Angry because this isn’t you. You’re not a quitter. You’re a fighter. You’ll leave, just like you said you would.

Not forever. Never forever.

You just need to get some distance. You need space. You need time to think. Maybe Bucky and Steve need time, too?

Maybe being away from you will help things be clearer?

“Y/N?” Nat probes, leaning forward to look at your face because you’re still folded forward.

“I said I’m fine.” You push her hand away and as the elevator opens you move out with wobbly feet but find your stride halfway to the jet.

“About time.” Tony snarks, in full iron armor as he steps onto the jet.

He stands aside and watches you board but with his helmet off, you can see the confusion on his face from whatever expression you’re wearing.

You move for the back-left corner of the jet where a small compartment slides out for spare uniforms.

“Hey, pouty. What’s got your mood all puckered?” Sam asks, giving you a passing glance but quickly taking in your mood.

You don’t answer him.

Very aware of your surroundings, you take note of Bucky standing at the front of the jet, hand on the back of the left pilot’s chair where Sam sits. The right left open for Nat when she boards shortly after you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you as you come on board. He’s mad at you. You get it.

Steve sits on the right side of the jet, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. They’re both dressed in full mission gear but neither of them looks at you and it stings so painfully that you blink hard to chase away the tears that accompany the ache.

Fine. If that’s how they both want to play this, then you are more than happy to oblige.

You strip, not caring who may be looking. First to go are your jeans, then your white t-shirt. You still haven’t changed since your encounter with Steve by the lake.

As the back hatch closes and Tony climbs on, sans uniform which has tucked itself back into its nano-housing on his chest, he moves towards you. He leans against the wall of the jet, shielding your semi-nakedness from the rest of the team.

“Are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m alright? I’m fine!” You shout.

You don’t mean to snap but your fuse is already short enough with Bucky and Steve having left Nat to wake you and both of them not even sparing you a glance. Maybe you deserve it? Maybe you don’t?

Either way, it ticks you off, and the gnawing guilt in your chest only serves to strengthen your sour mood.

You shove your clothes into the small compartment and pull the Kevlar tac suit on. Holsters fastened and guns slipped in place. Tony continues to watch you.

“Are you getting laid?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “Helps with stress. Are you stressed?”

You frown at him and move around him, ignoring the way he smirks because you don’t want to snap at him again.

“Where are Vision and Wanda?” You wonder, asking no one in particular but hoping that Bucky or Steve will answer.

“Scouting ahead.” Nat says, no hint of your rudeness with her earlier. “They’ll meet us at the safe zone then move in with us.”

You walk over to her and as soon as you enter his periphery, Bucky turns and walks away. He moves over to the right side of the jet and sits himself as far away from Steve as possible. Ramrod straight, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

The drop your heart does takes your breath away.

All of your anger seems to disappear instantly as that painful stinging returns to the inner corners of your eyes. You shut them, urging yourself to stay professional. You can’t focus on what’s happening with you and Bucky and Steve right now.

Aaron must be the focus.

“Where are we going?” You ask Nat and your voice is a gasp.

When she turns to look at you, you can see her take note of the spot Bucky had just stood in and then frowns as she finds him sitting as far away from you and Steve as possible. When she meets your eyes, the look of solidarity and sympathy is piercing.

“Rio. Or more specifically, Cabo Frio.” She states, pulling up a map of South America. On the bottom-right corner of Brazil’s Eastern coast is a not so small city with beautiful beaches, and crystal blue-green waters.

“What’s in Cabo Frio?” You wonder, forcing yourself to focus on the display in front of her.

Since you can’t choose Steve and Bucky won’t let you choose him anymore, you choose Aaron. That’s where you’ll devote your energy. Besides, the more you think about Aaron, the less aware you are of the empty feeling in your chest.

“It’s what wasn’t in Cabo Frio six months ago?” Nat moves the map to the East and about thirty miles from shore to empty, dark blue ocean. “This was the South Atlantic six months ago.”

She presses a few buttons with sleek black polished nails and the map changes on where there was nothing there is now a small island.

“This is the South Atlantic now.”

“So, we’re flying to that island?” You wonder, reaching out to zoom the map in.

“That’s not an island.” Sam says to your left.

You keep zooming in and find yourself staring at the largest ship you have ever seen.

“Is that a ship?” You gasp, zooming in more.

“Longer than the Sears Tower is tall.” Nat says. “We’re pretty sure that’s where the drugs are coming from.”

You blink, stunned by the size, the ingenious of using a ship to manufacture drugs.

Pulling anchor and moving on is so easy. If someone gets wind of you, you just float away.

“Are we going straight to the ship?”

“No.” Nat says.

“They’ve got a base inland where we got aerial footage of your mark making drops. We’ll go there first, scope that out, take it if we can. Then we’ll take the ship. We want to cut off communication with the base on shore so that we can sneak up on the ship. We don’t want one warning the other.” Tony says, sidling up behind you.

Turning to look at him, you frown. “That’s stupid. Once they lose communication with the base, they’ll move on. Why don’t we just split up? Half of us can take the ship. The other half of us can take the base.”

“It’s too risky.” Nat shakes her head, worry painting her green eyes dark jade. “Something goes wrong, we won’t have backup.”

“Where’s Bruce?” You wonder. “Looking around.”

Steve and Bucky are standing closer, interested in the conversation now that it’s turned to the mission. You hate them a little for meeting your eyes. For tearing your heart in two and then having the audacity to look at you with nothing but business on their minds.

The feeling lasts only a second because your mind is also on business. Once the shock of having them looking at you and listening as if it matters what you say has passed, you bring your gaze to Tony.

“He’s with Wanda, scoping out the base.” He says.

“And Thor?”

“With Vision, checking out the ship.”

“Well, call them back. Is there a safe zone where we can meet up with them?” You ask, inadvertently taking charge of the mission.

“Yeah, about twenty miles outside of the city.” Nat says, flicking the map to the small warehouse to serve as a temporary base.

“Call them. Get them there.”

“I don’t know if splitting up is such a good idea.” Sam says, voicing his concern for probably all of them.

“Rhodey?” You ask Tony, ignoring Sam for now.

“Called away. He won’t be here.”

“Nat?” You lean towards her again, staring out at the darkening horizon.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your heartbreak made you sleep straight through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Your stomach aches and gurgles, but you ignore it. No one cares that you didn’t eat. You don’t care either.

“Get us to that safe zone.” You order and she happily obeys.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say to make all of this better. If he hadn’t insisted on pleasuring you outside then maybe Bucky wouldn’t have shut you out so harshly.

He knows that Bucky doesn’t mean it. The no is tentative. It had been spoken in haste and in jealousy and anger.

Steve’s already kind of changed his mind. Not really, but before Tony had called about Aaron, he’d thought he could see Bucky wavering.

Bucky loves you, and as much as he hates that you love him, Steve, he can’t fight that. Steve can’t understand Bucky’s resistance.

Of course, Steve doesn’t want to share you either. You were his firsts. Maybe not officially, but in every way other than sexual, you’d been his. You’d fallen asleep in his arms before Bucky’s. You’d stretched out on his bed and spent hours reading or watching shows or movies with him before Bucky was there to do all that with you.

He’d taken you on your first mission. He’d patched up your first wounds. He’d kissed you—yes, he had though you’d been asleep and didn’t know about it—way before he did it to coax Bucky’s jealousy.

He’d held you when you cried. He’d laughed at your jokes. He’d loved you in every way possible without telling you out loud before Bucky even came into the picture.

No. Steve doesn’t want to share you. But you love Bucky. How can he deny you what you want?

Bucky also needs you. More than Steve thinks even Bucky knows.

He needs to give in. He needs to hold onto you. If Steve needs to step aside, he will. If he has to listen to you and Bucky make love for the rest of his life, then he’ll do that. So long as you don’t leave.

Steve understands Bucky. More than he might think. Steve knows that you’re his light. He knows that Bucky can’t really live without you.

He hates to see Bucky struggle. So, he gave in. He surrendered. For you. For Bucky.

While you’d cried and then fallen into a restless sleep, Steve had promised his best friend that he wouldn’t touch you again. He’d stay away. He’d leave when you were a little better and could handle his leaving, and he’d stop interfering.

Bucky had only stared. Searching. Angry, but listening.

Steve can see the admiration in Bucky’s eyes as you take charge right now. You hadn’t been given this mission to lead but you’d taken up the reigns on your own and dove headfirst. You’re so strong. In so many ways.

As you cross towards them again, a dusty cloud of years’ worth of muck kicked up as you move over the filthy warehouse floor, Steve stands up straighter. Bucky across from him, leaning against the steel support beam trying to look as casual as he can with his hands shoved into his pockets, also stands straighter despite his attempts at playing it cool.

Like him, Steve knows that Bucky’s vowed to put all this drama aside. For the mission. For you.

“We hold out until we all reach our targets. We attack at the same time and take who we can. How sure are we that Aaron is going to be at the base and not on the ship?” Steve hasn’t spoken since he boarded the jet.

He’s trying to step back but so is Bucky. That’s not what he wanted.

“There’s no way to know. We spotted him the one time but haven’t seen him since. He could be on either site or neither.” Nat says, standing tall with her arms crossed over her full chest.

“How will we split the teams? Let’s get this going. I want to rip some heads.” Thor declares and you look at him then appraise the rest of the group.

Steve stands a little taller as your eyes scan him and then you speak. “I’ll take point on the base in the city. Tony? You think you can take the ship team?”

“Is that a serious question?” He quips.

“Good.”

“Bruce, you should go with Tony. They’ll need the extra muscle on the ship. It’s a large space.” Steve thinks that’s a good all.

Even with the Hulk tamed, Bruce can throw his weight around well.

“Nat, Wanda, will the two of you also go with Tony?” You order, and before you can speak again, Bucky cuts in.

“Me too.” He says, voice hard and quiet.

Steve can see the uncertain shift in your eyes. The pain that flashes out at Bucky as he stares you down.

For a few horrible seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Will this break you? Bucky hasn’t said a word to you. He hasn’t reached out. He’s barely looked at you.

Steve caught you struggling on the jet and now Bucky doesn’t even want to be on mission with you?

The way your mouth opens as if to speak then shuts again with a flex of your jaw, Steve knows that you’re trying hard to keep it together.

“Fine.” You say, your voice hard now too.

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He’s going to drive you away. Is that his plan? He’ll break you. Can’t he see that?

“The rest of you are with me.” You say, disappointment on the furthest fringes of your tone.

Steve knows you’d rather have Bucky with you. Yet, he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll be able to keep his eye on you. Just like old times. He’ll have your back.

Things do not go well. It’s almost as if you’ve offended God…or the Gods. Your mind shoots to Thor chaotically as everything falls apart.

There is no one on the ship.

No one.

Bruce, in controlled Hulk form, Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda search the ship as quickly as possible with the help of Tony’s thermal scans.

The base on the other hand?

It’s packed. There are more guys than the five of you can handle.

For a little bit in the beginning, when Thor barrels through a large heavy iron door to expose what must be nearly three hundred workers in the largest room of the base, you think maybe all isn’t lost.

Thor can handle these guys no problem. You’ve seen him take on more. Worse. Stronger. Faster.

Then the twins show up. White dark chocolate skin, stark platinum blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and evil sneers create a terrifying image.

You’ve never seen them before. Illuminated collars around their necks that glow venom green come undone and then they chase Thor up through the roof and into the dark night skies leaving you, Steve, and Vision to fight fast and hard.

Vision grabs thugs at random, by the neck, then flings them up into the air to watch them drop. He flies down, sweeping long crippling tackles through ten, fifteen guys at once. You and Steve do your best to hold them off.

Steve fairs better, his strength super. You’re skilled, very much so, but you can only move as fast as your body will let you.

Each of the twins is followed by a stream of sunshine yellow light that seems to originate from their hands and feet. This propels them upwards, or that’s what you’d originally guessed.

It reminds you of Wanda but not exactly. The light is too thick. Solid. Like those lasers from Tron but that’s not possible because that’s just a movie.

And yet, when Sam goes tumbling out of the sky as he attempts to help Thor fight the twins, his wings hit a line of light and impossibly, inexplicably, the wings are severed. Halfway along their length, the left wing is clipped, and Sam goes tumbling down towards the ground. Too high. Too far.

Vision breaks away from you and Steve to intercept his fall, but he’s suddenly tackled out of flight by one of the twins, streaming across the large room and into a wave of thugs.

“Sam! Your chute!” You shout, scared and desperate for him as he falls.

He grows closer and when he talks you can hear the wind whistling past him.

He’ll die.

“I’m trying. It’s jammed!” He cries, his voice strong and controlled despite the panic that must be coursing through him.

There are grunts and pulls, punches, kicks, the occasional gunshot, as the thugs continue to attack you.

You fight harder. You somehow make yourself move faster.

“Steve, catch him!” You shout, desperate for Sam.

“We’re almost there.” Tony’s voice comes over your comms. He’s within range.

The hesitancy in Steve’s choice to do as you ask is so quick that no one would have noticed it. You see it because you know him. You love him. You know what he’s thinking.

I won’t leave you alone. He thought. Then he probably played the argument over in his head and realized that you’d dive underneath Sam and kill yourself in the process if it would mean his survival.

What other choice does he have than to do as you ask?

He sprints off towards Sam, leaping through a large broken window on the second floor. You glance him as he catches Sam, crashing into the ground outside.

Sixty thugs break away, race towards them to take advantage of the fall.

“Vision get back to Y/N.” Steve orders.

Vision is busy. You can see him shooting yellow beams at thug after thug. You hear the sing of his light, the sizzle of it’s burn. You smell the char of skin accompanied by the cries of pain.

He’s all the way on the other side of the large factory-like room.

“Vision!” Steve shouts, his fear for you more prominent than he probably means it to be.

You’re too busy to respond or react to his struggle. You’re dripping with sweat. Beads of effort build along your temples and forehead and trickle down along your skin, coating it with grime as dust is kicked up by your feet and that of your opponents.

You’re huffing with exhaustion already. Your arms are tired. Your legs are weak from taking so many hits. Blocking and returning. Your legs are suddenly yanked out from beneath you.

You scream.

“Y/N!” Steve calls out.

“I’m going.” Thor assures him that he’s on his way to you. “Gah!”

He’s knocked off course by the twin he’s been fighting, unable to get to you.

You get back to your feet, blocking punches and kicks before one lands hard on your chest. It sends you flying back. You gasp for air and loud heavy thud echoes around you.

The ringing in your ears is so distracting that although you lift up your hands to fight, you blink hard and try to remember where you are.

Someone throws a punch, a no one. You block it with your left forearm, then throw a hard right hook. It’s too strong, your arm moving lazily towards its target with zero control in strength.

The movement spins you to your left and you stumble backwards until strong arms catch you.

Your heart soars.

Bucky. You think with relief then shift your head back to look at your man to find your mark.

Aaron, Hawaiian God. Mass murderer. Crime lord. Not Bucky. Not Steve.

He smirks at you, gleeful that he’s caught you. The thugs around you move away, running towards Vision and Sam and Steve.

You can hear people calling you on your earpiece, but your head won’t focus.

Why?

There’s a flash of a memory. Your head violently hitting a large steel support beam. The explosion in your brain as you’re concussed, and green eyes transfix your addled mind as you pass out.

You dream of a snake with sea-green eyes. It hisses and laughs. Ssss-sss-ssssss.

Bucky can feel Bruce’s loud cry reverberate in his chest. It shakes his heart and reminds him that it’s there. Not like he could ever really forget.

Hearing Steve’s panic over the comms trying to get any one of his team members back to where you’d been fighting fills Bucky with dread. It chokes his heart. It aches painfully with a fear unlike he’s ever known.

Where are you?

He scans the room as Bruce stampedes through, swinging and making bodies fly. He tears through them like they were made of paper and he can begin to hear shouts of fear. The large group of thugs begin to run, making for exits and windows and holes in the walls.

Tony flies off to help Thor with what looks like twin men, sickly thing with dark skin and glowing eyes. Wanda and Vision join him while Nat, Steve, Bucky, and Sam meet in the middle of the large factory room where you’d been fighting.

“Where is she?!” Steve asks, screaming desperate and fearful.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the sound of terror in Steve’s cry because it’s his cry too.

“Where is she?! Nat? Do you see her?” Steve is fighting through the crowd, Sam pushing and punching.

Nat kicking and spinning her way towards the spot where Steve is standing.

“No.” Nat replies, grunting as she catches a thug in the chest with her knee then plunges a knife into his thigh as he tries to kick.

“Sam?”

“Nothing this way, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

But Bucky can’t answer his voice is caught in his throat. It’s a lump, building rapidly into grief and denial as he tries to convince his mind that what he thinks has happened hasn’t really happened.

He angrily grabs a thug’s throat as he runs by. He squeezes, the plates in his metal arm groaning and shifting as he glares up at the low life.

“Where is she?” He says low and angry. There’s death in his tone.

The thug claws at Bucky’s hand unable to fight it. He shakes his head and Bucky can’t help it. He squeezes too hard. He hears a sickening crack and then drops the limp body to the floor.

Steve finds him and he looks over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky catches another thug.

“Where is she?” He asks again.

“Buck?” Steve asks, desperate for reassurance.

The second thug also has no answers for him. Bucky squeezes again.

As this body falls to the ground, Steve reaches out to turn Bucky towards him.

Bucky lets him. He meets his eyes, Steve standing with both hands gripping the sides of Bucky’s shoulders. He’s heaving, breathing hard and heavy from his fight to find you. He’s sweating and dirty and he fought hard while Bucky was stuck on some decoy ship doing nothing and letting you get taken.

“Buck?” Steve asks, searching his ice blues for that assurance that everything is going to be okay.

Bucky can’t give it to him, and he lets the mask fall for a second as he sees the same heartache and agony mirrored in Steve’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something that might alleviate this black cloud over them as the last of the thugs are chased out by Bruce.

Instead his lower lip quivers and Steve falls to his knees.

“No.” Steve gasps.

“He took her.” Bucky realizes. He knew it the moment that you stopped responding to their calls. He knew it when you sent Steve to catch Sam. He knew that you wouldn’t be here when he arrived, and he can’t believe he left you alone.

If he’d been here, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d been willing to just try to accept that Steve—this broken man clutching at his feet as he struggles to breathe and what must be an astounding feeling of failure—loved you just as much as he did and that he had as much right to show it as he himself did, then you’d still be here.

You’d have had both of them at your side and when Steve had gone to save Sam, Bucky would have been there to keep you safe.

“No.” Steve cries. Really cries. His voice hitches. His hands are vices around Bucky’s ankles as he clings desperately to the only piece of you left. “Buck…no.”

Bucky falls to his knees to but to straighten Steve up. He can’t have him like this.

“We’ll get her back, Steve.” He promises him.

“We don’t even know where to start looking.” Steve points out and Bucky can see the dead in his eyes.

Now he can see what you’ve been meaning, what you’ve been saying Steve is to you. For the first time since this whole mess started, Bucky can see how much more claim Steve has on you and strangely, it doesn’t hurt.

It makes him feel better that someone on this team will be more desperate than him to find you. Someone else on this team will sacrifice life and limb to get you back.

“You’re not alone, Steve.” Bucky tells him, giving him a shake. “We’ll get her back. Together.”

Someone is talking. Someone is speaking directly to you as if you’re capable of listening. Never mind the fact that you’ve been completely unconscious until this moment.

Aaron.

“-trust easily. It’s nothing personal. I just need to make sure that you can’t punch me. Are the straps too tight?” He asks, deep booming voice actually concerned.

You feel tugs at your wrists as he checks large nylon straps. They’re thick and to Steve and Bucky and almost all of your friends they would be nothing but to you, a human, with no real super strength, they’re enough.

“Where-?”

“You’re on my ship.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

It’s like his statement brings to attention the gentle swaying, the smell of brine, and the groan of metal in water.

It creeps you out how he sounds like he’s making conversation with an old friend. Someone he can joke around with and have some fun.

In his defense, the last time you’d seen him face-to-face, he’d been about to eat you out.

“There was no one on the ship.” You say, confused.

“Oh, not that ship. That was a fake. I put it there in case someone like you and your team came lookin’ for me.” Aaron explains.

You open your eyes and the dim light of a light far away lets you see him. He’s big. Bigger than you remember but that might just be because it’s been a while. Tall. Beautiful copper tanned skin. Long wavy brown hair. Longer than Bucky’s. Tips bleached from too much sun. His beard is thick, well-kept, but longer than when you last saw him. Fuller.

He’s shirtless, tendrils of soft black chest hair scattered over his hard, flexing pectorals.

He’s slouched. Completely relaxed. The flesh of his stomach folded over though even with that small bit of extra muscle and tissue, you can see the chiseled shape of his abs.

Leaning forward, he spreads his legs wide wearing dark pants that look fairly new. He places his hands between his legs. He grips the edge of the chair, curling his shoulders in as he appraises you. He’s too at ease.

Is he not scared you’ll be found? Are you seriously in trouble here?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re an Avenger? I guess I should have put it together when I woke up the next morning and I couldn’t find my drive. You cost me a lot of money on that Cayman trip.” He informs you.

You stare at him, assessing your options quickly. How can you get out of this?

“How long have I-?”

“Two weeks. You know, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me that. I guess you hit your head pretty hard. I don’t have a doctor on board but as soon as I can get you one, I will.” He promises.

Why is he being so nice.

“You’re new to them, right? Haven’t been part of them long? I’ve never seen you before.” He gets up and moves towards a small metal table bolted down into the floor and against the half black, half red metal wall.

“Yes.” You lie, never mind that you’ve been on many missions with Steve and Nat and the rest of the team. You’d just been kept out of the big ones.

Stupid protective, lovable jerks.

“I knew there was something…that night in my place?” He moves back to you holding a small glass of water.

Your body craves it, almost aches for it.

As he holds it to your lips you push yourself up as much as you can take frantic sips.

You cough, choking on it a little. He takes the glass away and you hate him for it.

“Take it easy. I’ve got plenty of water.” He places the edge back against your lips and this time you’re careful. “So, I don’t know what drug you used to get me to pass out that night but did we-?”

Seriously?! You think, this guy is actually asking you if you slept with him?

Inspiration strikes and as he pulls the now empty glass away from your lips, you nod slowly.

“We did.” You tell him.

He believes you. He puts the glass on a smaller table also bolted down to the floor beside your infirmary bed then licks his lips and leans in closer, hovering over you with is arms on either side of your chest.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, desperate to understand.

“I-I was scared they’d come looking for me. I used to do things for bad people, and they don’t trust me.” The lies come easy. Doing bad things for bad people isn’t a lie, but it’s been much longer than you’re making it seem.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighs, reaching up to smooth the hair away from your face.

It clings to your temples, clammy skin coated in sweat. This is when you realize that you’re not exactly well.

“I’m scared.” You shudder, letting your real fear for your health surface and make your words true.

“Sshh, shhh, I’ve got you, baby.” He traces the shape of your shoulders.

You don’t want to push it too soon because it’ll make him suspicious, but he’s already so primed for it. Fearfully, you throw it out there to see if he’ll take the bait. You pray that Bucky won’t be angry at you for using this tactic that he hates so much.

Then you remember that Bucky is mad at you and that he probably doesn’t care about what you do.

The urge to survive this almost slips away but you know you’re better than that. You can live in a world where Bucky hates you, so long as you know he’s out there. You push through the depression that threatens to overtake you and stick to your plan.

“Can I hold you?” You wonder, pulling against the straps on your wrists. “I want you.”

Voice soft as silk, alluring, and pleading. You shift your hips, rubbing your thighs together as if you’re actually itching to have him fill you again—never mind that he never did.

He takes note of this, his hand wandering down your side and onto your hip where his eyes stay glued as he watches you squirm.

“Please?” You beg and he likes that so much he give a guttural grunt as he looks back up at you and climbs up onto your bed.

You feel frail and breakable. His large body looming over yours sends your heart into overdrive. Will he hurt you?

He touches you, and you try not to flinch away. You make sure to shift your disgust into desire, letting him cup your mound despite the way it makes you want to throw up. That could also be the malnutrition.

“You want this baby?” He asks, wafting hot breath against the cool clammy skin of your throat.

“Yeah.” You lie, hoping that it sounds real. “Let me hold you.”

You strain against your straps and he sits back, removing his hand from between your legs.

You’re filled with relief as he undoes your left hand strap and because you don’t want him to be suspicious, you use that hand to grab his shoulder and yank him down against your chest. You wrap it around him, holding him to you as his lips find yours and you kiss him hard.

As hard as you can anyway.

The taste of his tongue is salted and sour. You nearly gag but instead you groan. You need to get him off of you, get the rest of the straps off, get out the door, and up onto the deck of the ship. Then you can look for a plane or another boat…something. Anything.

You’ll float home if you have to.

As his tongue delves more deeply into his mouth, the heat of his skin bringing shocking attention to the lack of it in you, you suddenly bite down.

Aaron gasps and tries to pull back, but you’ve got a solid hold on him. He pushes against your shoulders and you follow him up as best you can as your teeth dig in deeper.

Your teeth finally snap shut. Aaron screams in pain and you taste rust.

Aaron scrambles off of you and falls onto the floor, kicking and pushing away from your bed and you spit out the pink wiggling flesh. Your mouth is flooded with blood and it drips from your mouth as you quickly undo the straps holding you down.

When you’re finally on your feet, you wobble, but not because of the sway of the ship. You’re weaker than you realized.

“Shit.” You gasp and grab a small metal tray beside your bed.

Aaron doesn’t see the hit coming and you knock him out saving him from the pain of his half-tongue but also giving yourself time to get away.

Weakly you run out of the room giving the hallways you run through quick looks before you venture into them.

You’ve been expecting to encounter thugs but there’s no one. Only empty rooms and the rotting smell of fish.

You have to stop to rest when you find the stairs and catch your breath. Two seconds is all you spare because the fear of Aaron waking up and coming after you is overwhelming.

You scrape up your bare feet as you climb the stairs as quickly as you can. At the top you find a heavy steel doorway with one of those large circular handles to seal compartments in ships from flooding.

Weakly you manage to turn it and hot salty air fills your lungs as the door falls open. Gray overcast skies and black blue water surround the ship.

You push it, itching for freedom and as you tumble out your foot catches on the bottom threshold. You fall hard, feeling a break somewhere in your leg.

You cry out, hoping that all of Aaron’s thugs are not up here.

“Y/N!”

No. It’s impossible. Your eyes strain against the bright light of the day and try to see where that voice came from.

Halfway down the much smaller ship’s deck but still as big as an oil tanker, you see Bucky fling a black mass of body overboard.

He races towards you at the same time and you frantically push yourself up onto your feet.

Forgetting your brand-new break, you collapse when you try to put your weight on your right foot but Bucky’s already there and he catches you. His arms are hot and tight around you, the smell of him—bitter sweat mixed with his usual clean linen and sandalwood musk—is intoxicating. You can hardly believe he’s real.

“I found you.” He gasps, shocked as if he’d never expected to see you again. “I found you.”

You look for his face, wanting nothing more than to stare into his steel blue eyes. He pushes your hair back, almost like Aaron had but there’s a desperate love in his hands as he holds your face and you want him to kiss you and hold you and tell you that you’re safe.

He does one of those.

He scoops you up suddenly and impossibly fast he carries you across the ship’s deck, winding around containers and piping until he reaches the stern and you can see the large black jet.

“Steve!” Bucky calls, and you’re so confused but Steve is suddenly there too. His arms are around you, and as he falls to the ground onto his knees, Bucky moves with him and carefully places you in Steve’s arms.

Steve holds you close, against his chest, clinging to you as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He cries but you don’t want him to be sorry.

Your heart soars as he pulls your lips up to meet his and then he buries his head into the side of your neck as he continues to sob, his blonde head of hair damp from the spray of the sea.

Bucky, also kneeling beside you, leans in to rest his forehead against your temple.

“I found you.” He repeats.

You turn to look at him, searching his face for explanation but he kisses you instead. Softly massaging your lips before he trails loving kisses down along your cheeks.

Then he wraps his arms around you and Steve.

Support me on Ko-fi

Forever Tag List @jessieray98 @crist1216 @rainbowkisses31 @xxloki81xx @the-wayward-robot @quokkatrash @tiffanynguyen03 @basementcafe @kind-sober-fullydressed @moli1497 @badassbaker @awkwardfangirl2014 @shield-agent78 @supernaturaldean67 @sea040561 @jewelofwinter @this-side-of-midnight5 @sebbystanlover-vk @just4muggles @death-unbecomes-you @lilulo-12 @whosmarisaaarw @hiddles-rose @pandazlazykid @alagalaska @theonelittleone @xlittlestarling @moonlessnight14 @natura1phenomenon @pineapplebooboo @spaghettirogers @dsakita @sincerelytlh @booklover2929 @lovefreylove @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @vulpecula-minor @the-real-mary-jane @babytrollgirl @wildefire @fairislesheets @mother-of-fire-snakes

Of Two Minds @brownlee-22 @zeilenkrieg @marvelfansworld @loki-lover-2018 @ravennightingaleandavatempus @ultimatesadboi @saharzek @fanfictionjunkie1112 @caitfairwrites @gallxntdean @queenoftheunderdark  @drakelover78 @mrsalh32611 @smoothdogsgirl

[secondsineternity]

You Say

Pairing: Peter Parker x female!reader

Warnings: Cursing, arguing, heartbreaking angst. Read with caution.

Prompt: You Say (Acoustic) by sarah Close

Word Count: 1.1K

Requested: No

A/N: This one’s kinda messy in my opinion, so sorry for that. Also, this is very angsty. Do not read this if you do not like angst. You have been warned.

“I never meant to do you wrong.”

“Well you did, Peter.” You hissed into your phone.

Your relationship with Peter Parker had been so amazing, from passing notes in college classes to a bouquet of red roses and a diamond ring. You two had been through everything together, so when you had received a simple text saying that your beautiful relationship was now over because of his “personal issues”, you were left heartbroken and wondering where your relationship had gone wrong.

That text had led to an hours-long fight at your apartment. Screaming, crying, the china you two had bought together shattering as you threw it at the wall. You had only left when the tenants across the hall knocked on your door to say that they were going to call the cops.

Since that night, he had been texting you empty apologies, the typical “I want you back”, and everything in between. Soon, texts had turned to phone calls and your phone became pretty much unusable without seeing Peter’s phone number pop up at some point.

You usually sent the calls to voicemail, Peter leaving messages nearly twenty minutes long every time. Tonight though, tonight you had picked up his call. You didn’t know if it was the loneliness of your new apartment across town or the small amount of alcohol running through your system, but tonight you had decided to press the green button instead of the red.

“I just want you back, baby.” He said, his words slurred. You could tell he was more drunk than you and it didn’t make you want him, it made you pity him.

“You were the one that broke up with me!” You said as you looked out over the Autumn-kissed city from your window, “Over text, might I add.”

Peter sighed in exasperation, “Please, can we just talk? Go grab a drink or something?”

“Are you fucking serious?” You scoffed, “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?” Peter asked oh so innocently, and you fought the urge to walk across the city just to slap him.

“Try to get me to have a drink with you, try to get me to stay,” You shook your head at the thought, “To come crawling back to you.”

Peter was silent, confirming your words were true. You sighed and pulled the phone away from your ear to hang up.

“Wait,” Peter said, having sensed what you were about to do, “Come back. Come home, (Y/N).”

“Peter, I’ve moved on. And I know you’ve moved on too…” You had heard from Ned and a few of Peter’s other friends that he was seeing MJ again, his old high school sweetheart. “I’m doing good moving on.”

“Well I’m not, (Y/N).” Peter growled, aggression lacing his tone. You could hear him getting more frustrated and your body tensed out of habit. You took deep breaths, moving the phone away from your face so he wouldn’t hear your now subsiding panic.

Breathe. Breathe, just breathe.

“Can’t move on from you, baby,” He continued, less angrily, “I can’t. Not when we had a future. Not when I had put a ring on your pretty little finger.”

“You don’t really want me, you just hate that I’m gone.” You said when you were finally able to breathe smoothly.

“That’s not true, (Y/N).” You could see him running a hand through his fluffy hair, hair hat you used to card your fingers through. “It’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!” You nearly screamed, “You only want me back by your side because it makes you feel like you’re… you’re winning or something!”

“Please,” Peter pressed, “Just fucking listen to me for once, (Y/N).”

You sighed, always thinking, always contemplating. “Alright.” You gave in, as you always did for him. Why, why, why did you always give into him?

Peter took a breath, preparing himself for what he was to say. “Do you remember the days I would climb the fence to your garden just to see you before class? You always found it so weird how I could climb a brick wall so quickly…”

You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips, yet your tone stayed neutral, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Well, do you want to know how I could climb it so fast?”

Yes. “Not really.”

“It’s because I’m-”

“God, Peter, can’t you ever fucking take no for an answer?” You said, finally letting the chardonnay take control of your emotions. “I can’t even fucking look in that garden without feeling that echo, that ghost of you.”

“Then just let me come over,” He said, his words sounding more slurred than before. He was absolutely smashed. “I can fix it, I can make it all better, babe.”

“Stop it!” You screamed, dropping your crystal wine glass in frustration. The shards echoed around your feet and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Stop what?” He screamed back at you.

“Talking like that! Like I’m just going to come back in a minute, like I’ll run back to you the second I see you.” Your breathing was heavy as a bottle of expensive perfume shattered on the floor, yet you couldn’t care less, “Because I’m not going to, Peter. I’m not.”

Silence rung from his side of the phone. There was no dial tone, so he was either still listening, waiting for you to say something else or he had walked away from the phone. But right now, you didn’t care. You didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care.

“I have no intentions of seeing you again, Peter Parker.”

You pressed End Call.

Groaning, you carelessly threw your phone on your bed, ungracefully following suit. You sighed into your pillow and pretended that the events that had occurred over the past month weren’t real. You didn’t hear your phone ping with texts or buzz for a call, for which you were thankful because you didn’t know how much more you could take.

Eventually, you had cried yourself into a dreamless sleep.

- - -

It had been four days since the call that had emotionally torn you open all over again. The texts and calls had stopped, making you feel a little bit lighter. You felt like a weight had come off your shoulders, and your coworkers could tell. Some even commented on how you looked so much better.

You walked back to your apartment after work, finally feeling some sense of happiness return to you. You felt the warm October breeze against your face, and for the first time in what was probably weeks, you smiled. You truly, genuinely smiled.

In your daze you heard your phone ping, and you reached into your purse to grab it. You unlocked your phone and read the only message you had received in four days.

Peter Parker: I’m sorry.

You rolled your eyes and chucked your phone back in your purse. You didn’t care. You were free.

Yeah, Peter, you say.

- - -

tag list:

@peter-prkers @holland-haven @minnie-marvel @sharingfanfictionandart @laurfangirl424 @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @missaubreychase @itsanonymouschick @meoodle @lokis-sunflower-anna @imarockstar45 @silver-stormy @greekdemigodwannabe @sebxstixnstan @cynicallystiles @magic-marvel @who-the-buck-is-stucky @obsessedmaggiemay @5aftermidnight @ludwigvonbaethoven @negative-love

ask or private message me if you want to be added to the list!

[stevesgirl1513]

The Last Time

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, extremely sad ending

Word Count: 2k

Summary: This one-shot takes place in the 1940s when Bucky learns he is being transferred to the 107th infantry.  Reader is his girlfriend of two years, and he tells her he is leaving.  This one shot will include the fair and the part where Bucky saves Steve from the guy in the movie theatre from First Avenger movie, but they will be different, obviously.  At the end, Reader learns some heartbreaking news.

A/N: I DO NOT own any of the Marvel characters.  I also DO NOT own the plot/scenes from any of the Marvel movies, nor do I own this gif.  I only own the scenes I create between Buck and my reader :)

…

As you and Bucky walked down the wet, dirty sidewalk in Queens, you heard the usual shouts from the dark alleyways and the casual screams from apartments overhead.  You saw two men on the other side of the street wave their arms at you with empty beer can bottles laying at their feet.  You turned your head disgusted and moved closer to Bucky.  He gave you a comforting smile and wrapped his arm around you.  You instantly felt safer.

“Have I ever told you how hot you look in this uniform?” You pinched the tan material between your fingers.  Bucky chuckled, and he kissed the top of your head.  

“No, but I can see it in your eyes,” he smiled at you.  You giggled into his shoulder.  You noticed the movie theatre to your right and instantly the smell of popcorn filled your senses.

“I wonder what movie they’re playing at the theatre tonight,” you thought out loud.  Bucky followed your gaze and looked at the theatre.  

“Would you like to see one tonight, doll?” He looked down at your rosy cheeks.  You moved your stare to his eyes and smiled at him.

“No, I’m okay just walking here with you.  Although I am always in the mood for popcorn.”  Bucky laughed and agreed with you.  “Bucky, look.” You two were passing an alleyway situated next to the theatre, and you pointed your finger to the dark abyss.  You felt sick to your stomach when you saw two men fighting, though the smaller one of them was clearly losing.  He was punched into a corner, and he laid in a fetal position holding his stomach.  “That sure does look a lot like–”

“Steve.” Bucky moved his arm down your shoulder and fixed your hand in his.  He sharply turned into the alley and ran towards Steve.  “Y/n, stay back please,” he looked at you with love in his eyes.  It would kill him to see you get hurt.  You nodded your head and backed up against the wall.  You gasped when the man pulled back to punch Bucky, but he swiftly avoided it.  Bucky punched the man square in the jaw, and you cringed at the sound it made.  The man then began to limp away as Bucky delivered one last good kick to send him away.  Once the man was out of sight, you joined Bucky and helped Steve to his feet.  

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky said as you two pulled Steve up.

“Well, Steve, I think you definitely had him.  All you needed was a second wind,” you smiled at Steve, trying to boost his confidence.  Bucky thanked you silently with his eyes and you nodded knowingly.  

Bucky picked up a piece of paper and read it aloud.  “Oh you’re from Paramus now?”  You looked at the paper over Bucky’s shoulder and laughed softly.  

“Jersey, seriously?” You said sarcastically.  Steve rolled his eyes, but suddenly looked taken aback.  He did a once over on Bucky and you could see the realization hit him.  

“You get your orders?” He asked reluctantly.  

“Uh yeah, we’ll talk about that later,” Bucky sent a sideways glance to you at which Steve nodded his head.  Wait, what?  Why was Bucky not talking about this in front of you?  You sent Bucky a questioning look, but he just looked away.  

“Anyways, let’s go,” Bucky threw his arm around Steve and laughed.  

“Where are we going?” Steve grumbled.  Bucky took his arm off Steve and thrusted a newspaper to his chest.  

“The future,” he beamed.  You laughed at his cuteness and wrapped you right arm around his left.  He looked down at you, and you smiled up at him.  He leaned his face to yours and pressed your lips together.  You smiled against his plump lips, and he kissed the corner of your mouth.  With Bucky next to you and Steve following closely behind, you started your journey to the boisterous fairgrounds.

…

You were standing a few feet away from Bucky and Steve watching the Howard Stark show.  You started to look around fearing that you may have lost them.  You spotted them behind you, and it looked like they were having a slightly heated conversation.  You furrowed your eyebrows together and wondered what they were talking about.  Turning your attention back to the show, you saw about ten girls step out surrounding Mr. Stark.  When you saw the uniforms they were wearing, you rolled your eyes.  Showbiz will do absolutely anything to grab a man’s attention.  Suddenly, you felt an arm slip around your shoulders, but you relaxed when it was only Bucky.  

“Doll, can I talk to you for a second?” He said into your ear over all the noise.  You hugged him from his side and leaned into him.

“Of course.”  As he held your hand, he led you two over to a lit up gazebo away from the noisy show.  You sat down side by side, and you rested your hand on his knee.  “I’ve noticed you talking to Steve apart from me this evening.  Does what you’re about to tell me have anything to do with that?” You asked.

“Yes,” he said with his face to the ground.  “You know how I got my orders right?”

“Yes, Sergeant James Barnes,” you smiled lightly.  He chuckled, but grew serious again.

“107th.  I ship out for England tomorrow morning,” he said softly.  You took a deep breath, and he waited patiently for your reaction.  

“Tomorrow morning? But that’s-but that’s so–” you stuttered.

“Soon. I know,” he sighed.  You felt tears forming in your eyes, but you fought to keep them from escaping.  

“Well, when will you be back?”  You joined Bucky in staring at the ground.  The ground was uncharacteristically quite comforting when it came to situations like this.  

“I don’t know.  I want to say for at least six months, but most likely a year.”  At this you felt a tear roll slowly down your cheek.  It felt warm and wet against your cool skin.  Bucky reached a hand up and wiped it off.  “Please don’t cry, doll,” he pleaded.  

“I-I can’t–” you sniffled.  Bucky pulled you into his arms and held you against him.  You buried your head into the crook between his shoulder and neck and breathed him in.  He had always smelled like home to you.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Your voice muffled by his clothing.

“I didn’t want it to ruin our last night together.  I want you to be here with me, right now.  I want to spend my last night here breathing in this atmosphere with you by my side,” he smiled at you.

“I love you, James Barnes.”  

“I love you more, y/f/n y/l/n.”

…

“Y/n, I think you need to let go of me now,” Bucky laughed in your ear.

“No, I’m never letting you go,” you said defiantly.  His laughter died down, and he continued to hold you.  

He had walked you up to your apartment door, and it was getting pretty late.  You knew he needed to go home and get some rest before his journey tomorrow.  However, you had a dismal feeling in the pit of your stomach that you just couldn’t shake.  It felt as though this would be the last time you ever hugged him.  The last time you smelled him.  The last time you felt his skin beneath your fingertips.  You were scared that when he left, you would forget the way he talked or the way he moved.  

You were terrified of losing him.  

“Give me one last kiss,” he whispered.  You looked into his eyes before gently closing your eyelids.  You placed your lips together and kissed him with everything you had.  He cupped your face between his hands and swiped his tongue over yours.  You bit down on his lip causing him to smile.  He then began to place small butterfly kisses on the corners of your mouth, your nose, and your eyelids.  You giggled at this.  

“Whatever happens to me in this lifetime, I hope I never forget you,” he stared down at you.  

“You better not,” you remarked.  

“Goodbye, y/n.”  He kissed your hands.  Tears fell out of your eyes.  

“Goodbye, Bucky.”  He gave you a wink before he turned around and walked down that hallway for the last time…ever.  

…

It was January of 1945, and it had been almost two years since you last saw Bucky.  You pushed this thought away as you continued to pack up your work bag as you did everyday.  You were about to go catch the subway to reach the factory you worked at when you heard a knock at the door.  In the beginning, you used to fear knocks at the door.  You were scared that you would open it up to reveal two soldiers with the dreaded news that was sure to come.  You had just started to get over that, but for some reason, you felt that fear grow in your chest right now.  

Taking a deep breath, you walked slowly to the door and opened it.  

“Oh?”  You were shocked to find a woman standing there in military dress.

“Hello, I’m Agent Peggy Carter,” she smiled firmly yet it still felt warm.  “Is this the residence of y/f/n y/l/n?”  

“Oh, yes it is,” you replied.  

“I am a friend of Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes.  I regret to inform you–”

“Oh no! Please, God, no,” you cried out.  You felt as though you didn’t have the strength to stand, and you fell to the floor.  You covered your face with your hands and cried loudly.  You no longer cared who heard you.  

Peggy took a deep breath and swallowed down the lump in her throat.  “I regret to inform you that Sergeant James Barnes has been killed in action.”  

“Oh God, please no,” you called out to her.  Your sobs overwhelmed you, and you thought your heart might stop with lack of oxygen.  

“Captain Steve Rogers has been reported missing in action.” Peggy’s voice lowered down to a whisper at the end.  Her heart broke at your sobs, but she stayed strong.  She knelt down until her face was right in front of yours.  She stared at your face, wet with tears.  

“Please no,” you croaked at her.  She gave you a sad smile and placed the envelope at your feet.  You were still crying, and it didn’t seem as though you were going to stop.  

She cleared her throat and said, “We will be sending you any of his possessions he had while at the infantry.  But there was one I felt had to be delivered personally.”  Your vision was blurred due to the tears in your eyes, but you faintly saw her hand reach into her coat and pull something small out.  

A tiny blue velvet ring box.  

You cried out again and grabbed the box from her.  You opened it up and saw a beautiful diamond ring inside.  Holding it close to your heart, you watched as Peggy stood up, brushed her clothing with her hands, and walk back down the hallway.  Sitting against your door, your cries echoed in the hallway and seemed to reverberate around the city.  

And in the end, the things you two had feared most came true: you lost Bucky, and he forgot you….