#kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

More I Cannot Wish You [b.b.]

Summary: On your wedding day, your father is having trouble coming to terms with who you chose as your groom. 

Word Count: 3417

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Stark Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Mostly just fluff. Some h*ckin words and mentions of past child neglect

A/N: Inspired by “More I Cannot Wish You” specifically from the musical episode of The Flash. A little fluff for your Valentine’s day. I hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you to @icedcoffeemorn​ for beta reading! If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists click here!

The clacking of Pepper’s heels echoed through the bridal suite as she paced back and forth, checking items off her list.

“Let’s see…,” she mumbled to herself. “Flowers are set. Photographer is with the boys. Cake is at the reception venue and refrigerated. I think that’s everything.”

“Sure you can’t find a last-minute way to spend another $10,000?” Tony scoffed as he poured himself another scotch. He didn’t actually care about the money. Lord knew he had more than enough. He just wanted this day to be over. The last few months had been nothing but non-stop appointments and fittings and checks to be written to different vendors. All he wanted was to be able to go back to the cabin and relax. Pepper sighed softly and walked over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as he tossed back his drink.

“Can you please try and be happy today?” she pleaded with him. “Your daughter deserves that much on her wedding day.” A pang of shame spiked through Tony’s heart and a sigh fell from his lips as he nodded slowly. Pepper was right. She always was. Today was supposed to be happy, and there was no way he would ruin that. Especially not for his little girl.

He still remembered the day you were thrown into his life. He’d opened the door to his Malibu mansion to find you standing on his front porch, rain-drenched and terrified with a note pinned to your sweater.

This is your daughter. She’s too much for me to handle anymore. Good luck.

You were eight then, and not the first child someone had claimed belonged to him. His first instinct had been to drop you off at the local police station, but Pepper had talked him out of it. She’d convinced him to let you stay the night and figure things out in the morning. When he went to collect you at 8 AM sharp, he found you cross-legged on the bed, the radio from the nightstand rewired into a remote and cartoons on the TV. From that day on, Tony never doubted you were his again.

For the first few weeks, nothing much changed for Tony. The room that was supposed to be yours for the night became yours permanently, and he put Pepper in charge of finding you clothes and toys and anything else an 8-year-old girl might need. Truth be told, he put her in charge of everything when it came to you. Tony continued to jet around the world to various parties and events, calling home from time to time to check in on you. He didn’t know how to be a dad back then. Hell, he barely knew how to be one now. At least now, he was around though.

It was late at night when he got the call. The clock showed nearly 2 AM when the hotel phone startled him awake. Pepper had to repeat herself three times before the words sunk in and he bolted upright in his bed.

“Her fever is 104, Tony. I can’t get it down. Happy and I are taking her to the hospital, but you need to get back here. Now. Your daughter needs you.”

That was the first time in his life Tony ever felt real fear. The entire flight home he cursed himself for leaving you. By the time he got to the hospital, you were in hysterics. Pepper was trying to calm you down, but nothing was helping. Tony ran to you, desperate to soothe you and wipe your tears, only for you to leap away from his touch and into Pepper’s arms. It was in that moment, when he saw you terrified and clinging to Pepper, crying out for a mother that had abandoned you without a second thought, that Tony realized exactly what he was to you. He wasn’t your father. He was a stranger. In your most desperate hour when your life had been completely uprooted, he hadn’t done what a father should and helped you through it. He had just left you alone all over again. The same way his father had done to him.

Tony made a vow that night as he watched you sleep in your hospital bed. He swore that things would change. No more partying. No more bringing home random women just to have Pepper toss them out the next morning. No more jetting around the globe, unless he had you with him. He promised you he’d be the kind of father to you that he had never had. That he had always wanted.

“I promise, babygirl,” he whispered as you slept. “You will have everything you could ever wish for.”

Here he stood now, some twenty-something years later, watching you walk into the room in your wedding dress. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched you turn in your spot, nervousness blooming across your face.

“Well?” you asked shyly. “How do I look?” Tony couldn’t speak. All the air had been knocked from his lungs the second he saw you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Pepper cooed. “You look stunning. Absolutely beautiful.” She was crying in earnest now, holding your hands in hers as a watery smile stretched across your face. Pepper may not have been your blood, but she dedicated an incredible amount of her life to raising you, and she loved you as only a mother could. A happiness unlike he’d ever known flooded Tony’s heart as he watched you both gush over every detail of your dress. Eventually, you turned to face him again.

“Do you think James will like it?” you asked quietly. That knocked the wind out of him for an entirely different reason. The smile almost fell from his face, but he managed to catch it just in time.

“If he doesn’t, he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought,” Tony said, walking over and kissing your head. He could feel you roll your eyes at him without even seeing your face.

“Dad, you promised,” you reminded him.

“I know, baby,” he said, smiling at you. “I’ll be nice. I promise. I’m gonna go get some air real quick.” He rubbed your arm gently and kissed Pepper before ducking out the door. His breath came out heavy once he was on the other side, and he leaned over to put his hands on his knees.

Why did it have to be him?  Of all the super people Tony had known over the years, why did his daughter have to fall in love with the one who killed her grandparents? He had tried to talk you into dating anyone else. Steve. Sam. Even Natasha. He didn’t care. But from the second you met Barnes, everyone around you knew that was it. You were ridiculously in love with each other, sometimes bordering on disgustingly so, and it had only been a matter of time until it ended up with a wedding.

Tony took several deep breaths, shaking the nerves out of his head as best he could, until he heard a familiar voice from around the corner.

“Steve, I can’t do this.”

Bucky’s breath came in pants as he sat on the floor, his head between his knees. Steve kneeled beside him, rubbing his back gently and trying to calm him down.

“Steve, I can’t do this,” Bucky panted softly.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked. “You’re the one that asked her to marry you in the first place.”

“I know but I just…I don’t…” His breathing picked up more and more until his chest was so tight he couldn’t speak. Steve squeezed his shoulder gently and sat beside him, trying to bring his best friend back from the brink.

“Buck, hey,” he said soothingly. “It’s ok. Just breathe, ok?” He took a deep breath and waited for Bucky to mirror him, taking the next few together. After a few minutes, Bucky’s breathing returned to normal, and he sat up. His ocean blue eyes swam with tears as he looked up at Steve.

“She deserves so much better, Steve,” he said finally.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed. “You guys are crazy about each other.”

“Half the world still hates me,” Bucky breathed, not meeting Steve’s eye. “I can barely walk down the street without getting harassed every ten steps. People don’t forget and I can handle all that but…she deserves better. She shouldn’t have to put up with all this shit because of me.”

“Buck, the two of you have been together for five years,” Steve argued. “If she wanted to run she would have by now.” Bucky sighed heavily and put his head in his hands.

“Her own father hates me, Steve,” Bucky said, shaking his head when his best friend started to counter him “Don’t try to tell me he doesn’t. We all know he does. Why wouldn’t we? If I were him, I’d hate me too.”

“What happened to Howard and Maria wasn’t your fault,” Steve reasoned. “On some level, Tony knows that. I know he does.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky replied. “He saw the video. Tony saw this face murder his parents. That isn’t something you just forgive. I don’t want to subject my wife to a lifetime of having to play peacekeeper between her husband and her father.” Both men were silent for a long time. Bucky’s occasional sniffles and Steve’s nervous shifting were the only sounds that broke the air. Eventually, the question Steve had been dreading asking fell from his lips.

“Do you want to call off the wedding?”

“No!” Bucky yelled immediately, his head snapping up. “God, no! I love her so much. I never thought I’d ever love something like this, and I definitely never thought someone would love me like she does. I just…I wanna give her the world, Steve. I want her to have everything she could ever wish for. But I don’t know if I’m good enough to do it.”

Whatever Steve planned to say was cut off by the sound of a throat clearing down the hall. Bucky’s head snapped up and his blood ran cold at the sight of Tony walking up to them, his face stone-still.

“Rogers,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically flat. “Could you give me and Barnes a minute?”

“Tony,” Steve cautioned as he and Bucky rose to their feet, but Tony simply waved him off.

“Relax, Grandpa,” he said, a hint of his trademark sarcasm creeping in. “I’m just imparting some future father-in-law pearls of wisdom.” Steve glanced over at Bucky, who nodded once in spite of his overwhelming nervousness, and turned to leave the two of them in awkward silence.

Bucky thought the tension in the air might almost be thick enough to crush him to death. He hated just standing there, staring at the man who hated him most in the world, waiting for him to threaten his life if he broke his little girl’s heart. Tony made a couple attempts to speak, but the thoughts seemed to die right before he could voice them. About the time Bucky thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, Tony found his voice.

“I was never supposed to be a dad,” Tony said finally, causing Bucky to furrow his brow. “At least, I never wanted to be. My old man and I had an…interesting relationship and after he died, I remember thinking I never wanted to put a kid through that. I’m too much like him. I knew if I had a kid I would be just as bad of a father as he’d been. And as usual, I was right.

“I didn’t even know I had a daughter until she was eight. Eight years. Her mom knew me and knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it, so she kept her away. Until one day this terrified soaking wet little girl showed up on my doorstep and threw a giant wrench in my plans.”

“Tony…,” Bucky tried, but Tony didn’t even flinch.

“I was so convinced I’d be a shit father that I just decided I would be,” he continued. “Every time I left, I could see my dad’s face as clear as day, walking out the door and leaving me with another new nanny. Then she got sick and…I gotta tell ya that’s the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. Watching my daughter terrified and looking through me like she’d never seen me before. Because she’d hadn’t. Not really. That was the first day I ever saw myself as a dad, and I promised both of us I’d do better. Be better. Because she deserved it. Couple years and violent super confrontations later Morgan came along and now…I can’t imagine not being their dad.”

“What are you trying to say, Tony?” Bucky asked, his voice trembling slightly. For the first time since Steve walked away, Tony looked Bucky in the eyes. Bucky was almost certain it was the first time Tony had ever actually looked him in the eyes, and he had to fight to suppress the shiver that tried to claw its way down his spine.

“I’m never gonna be able to look at you and not see the man who killed my parents,” Tony said flatly, causing Bucky to flinch. “You were right about that. But what I can see...is the way you look at my daughter. And the way she looks at you. I can see the love between the two of you and I know…I know she thinks you’re good enough. You’re enough for her Barnes, and that’s good enough for me.”

Bucky was too scared to speak. His heart pounded in his chest so hard he thought his ribs might crack. This couldn’t be happening. Even though Tony hadn’t exactly said the words this felt almost like…forgiveness. Tears welled in his eyes as he regarded his future father-in-law, trying to will his brain into producing words. But it wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. All he could feel was an all-encompassing sense of relief. The worry and uncertainty that had fueled his anxiety only minutes ago had been beaten back by the words of Tony Stark. He had, in his own Tony way, given Bucky his blessing. Bucky was still trying to form words when Tony clapped him gently on the shoulder.

“Take care of my little girl, Barnes,” he said with a slight smile. “That’s all I ask.” With that, he turned and walked back toward the bridal suite. He was already around the corner and out of sight when Bucky managed to speak.

“I will.”

The wedding was absolutely perfect. It was everything you ever could have wished for and so much more. Morgan drew awe from the crowd as the picture-perfect flower girl, and your dad didn’t have a single snide or snarky comment as he walked you down the aisle to a teary-eyed Bucky. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, you found yourself seated beside your brand new husband at the reception. Friends and family gathered in the ornate ballroom, laughing and sending their well-wishes to the newlyweds. Then, it was time for the speeches. Steve went first, his best man toast filled with stories of a couple of hell-raising kids in Brooklyn that made Bucky blush. Next came the maid of honor, Wanda. Despite the two of you not having nearly as much history as Bucky and Steve, she still managed to have you in tears as she described how much you welcoming her into your family meant to her. Finally, it was Tony’s turn. A small feeling of nervousness twisted in your stomach as he took the microphone. Bucky must have sensed it because he reached over and took your hand in his.

“Contrary to popular belief and…historical record, I’m not really one for grandiose speeches,” Tony began, pulling laughter from the crowd. “And I’m even worse as sticking to the cards, so I’ll try and keep this short and sweet.” You spared a quick glance at Pepper who gave you a smile and a small nod. It did little to quell your nerves, so you just returned the smile before looking back at your father.

“My daughter came into my life halfway grown and already smarter than me,” Tony continued, earning another chuckle from the crowd. “I spent the first couple years with her trying to catch up on everything I’d missed, and the next few trying to make up for lost time. I promised her that she was going to have everything she could ever wish for. But as time went on, I realized that wasn’t enough. I wanted her to have more. I wanted her to have everything I wished for. I wanted to be able to take every single dream either of us had and just…poof. Make it come true. When she was around twelve years old, I asked her what her biggest wish was, expecting her to want me to buy her Disney World or something. But she just said ‘Daddy, I wish you and me could be best friends for always.’ And I did my damndest to make that wish come true.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and you clung to Bucky’s hand so tight it might have broken if he were a normal man. You heard a small sniffle come from him, but you didn’t dare look away from your father.

“Somewhere on the road between twelve and today,” Tony said, his voice growing slightly thick. “That sweet little girl grew up the rest of the way into the incredible woman before us, that we have all come to love. Baby, the privilege of being your father has been the greatest blessing I’ve ever known. It took me a bit to work out the kinks of being a dad, but I wouldn’t change one single second of it. You made it all worthwhile. I did my best to teach you right from wrong, despite not always knowing the difference myself, and I am so incredibly proud of the woman you’ve grown into.” You took a second to glance over at Bucky and seeing the tears in his eyes only made yours fall harder. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer without even looking, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“I wished so many things for you,” Tony said, his eyes locked on you. “And even though I wished for you to know real, true love, what I’ve seen grow between you and Bucky over the last few years surpasses anything even I imagined, and I am so happy you’ve found yourself more than I could have ever wished for you. To the bride and groom.” Applause erupted as Tony raised his glass and the rest of the room followed suit, toasting to you and Bucky. Your glass remained untouched on the table as you jumped up, making your way over to your dad. He smiled as you approached and hugged you close as you threw your arms around him.

“I knew you could be nice,” you chuckled in his ear.

“I’m always nice,” he retorted with a smile. “Just not always in public.” You rolled your eyes and pulled back, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“I love you, Dad,” you said with a smile.

“I love you too, babygirl,” Tony responded, kissing the top of your head. Bucky stepped up behind you, placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Thank you, Tony,” he said quietly, extending his flesh hand. Much to your surprise, Tony reached out after a beat and shook it once.

“Welcome to the family, Barnes,” he said, offering Bucky a half-smile before dropping his hand and going back to his seat beside Pepper. Bucky stood stunned for a moment, only breaking from his trance when you stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I told you he’d come around eventually,” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled, absently wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wasn’t expecting him to welcome me into the family like that.”

“Imagine what he’ll do when we tell him he’s gonna be a grandpa,” you said, hugging him close.

“One step at a time, doll,” Bucky smiled, leaning down to kiss you again. “Right now, I think it’s time for me to dance with my wife.” Your smile matched his as you kissed him again, taking his hands in yours.

“Lead the way, Sarge.”

Permanent taglist (49/50): @icedcoffeemorn​ @blckwidowbucky​ @jamesbuckybarnes-anon​ @buckysmischief​ @heyhihellowhatsup0​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @sovereignparker​ @dumblani​ @chewymoustachio​ @daughterofthenight117​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @mariaenchanted​ @niall2017​ @aliceaddellheidde​ @lexy9716​ @lilliannaansalla​ @willowtree42095​ @superblyscrumptiousdonut2​ @nekoannie-chan​ @vintagepigeon​ @also-fangirlinsweden​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @lil-stark​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @shadesofgreyngold​ @marvelgurl​ @a-daydreamers-day​ @rumoured-whispers​ @ccmarvelxx​ @harpersmariano​ @aikeia​ @supraveng​ @dottirose​ @amelia-song-pond​ @pineprincess​ @redridingpants​ @everythingisoverrated​ @barnesafterglow​ @blizzspeaks​ @untraveled-road​ @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @tlcwrites​ @mysweetlittledesire​ @writing-for-marvel​ @where-thesundoesntshine​ @cornmousequeen​ @yaszx​ @justrenxoxo​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky banres x you #bucky barnes x stark!reader #bucky barnes #more i cannot wish you #tony stark #stark!daughter #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #soft #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Hot Girl Shit [chapter 8]

Series Masterlist

TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC IS FULL!

Summary: After a bad breakup, Y/N decides to spend her time doing “hot girl shit” and swears off relationships altogether. When she starts flirting with an anonymous Brooklyn based social media influencer, she might just find out her internet crush is closer to her than she realizes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: mention of stalking, alcohol, abuse

A/N: shit is starting to get REAL. sorry i’m not sorry for the clifhanger ending  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists click here!

Permanent taglist (41/50): @morningstar-joy @jamesbuckybarnes-anon @buckysmischief @heyhihellowhatsup0 @whitewolfandthefox @sovereignparker @dumblani @chewymoustachio @daughterofthenight117 @stuckonjbbarnes @mariaenchanted @niall2017 @aliceaddellheidde @lexy9716 @lilliannaansalla @willowtree42095 @superblyscrumptiousdonut2 @nekoannie-chan @vintagepigeon @also-fangirlinsweden @old-enough-to-know-better73 @lil-stark @wonderlandfandomkingdom @loki-leufeyson-81 @shadesofgreyngold @marvelgurl @a-daydreamers-day @rumoured-whispers @ccmarvelxx @xoxabs88xox @harpersmariano @aikeia @supraveng @dottirose @amelia-song-pond @pineprincess @redridingpants @everythingisoverrated @barnesafterglow @blizzspeaks @untraveled-road

Hot Girl Shit taglist (25/25): @ietss​ @winters-moon-child​ @kmuir1​ @solarapower​ @rainbowkisses31​ @emmabarnes​ @starlightcrystalline​ @shadowsndaisies​ @poppunkdork​ @simplybarnes​ @speedysimp​ @writerwrites​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @sleepingspacedragon​ @intense-socks​ @methadonepretty​ @wonder-cole​ @wxstedhexrt​ @brooklyn-1918​ ​​ @fighterkimburgess​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @justsayk​ @marie975​ @ofstarsandvibranium​ 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #social media au #bucky barnes fanfiction #hot girl shit #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #steve rogers x sam wilson #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff #john walker #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Hot Girl Shit [chapter 7]

Series Masterlist

TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC IS FULL!

Summary: After a bad breakup, Y/N decides to spend her time doing “hot girl shit” and swears off relationships altogether. When she starts flirting with an anonymous Brooklyn based social media influencer, she might just find out her internet crush is closer to her than she realizes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: a few h*cking words, more John Walker slander, nothing super major in this one

A/N: Surprise! I acutally did a thing! Sorry it’s been so long between chapters but between vacation and back to school life has been a bit of a shit show. But we’re back at it again. Enjoy! If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists, click here!

Permanent taglist (40/50): @morningstar-joy @jamesbuckybarnes-anon @buckysmischief @heyhihellowhatsup0 @whitewolfandthefox @sovereignparker @dumblani @chewymoustachio @daughterofthenight117 @stuckonjbbarnes @mariaenchanted @niall2017 @aliceaddellheidde @lexy9716 @lilliannaansalla @willowtree42095 @superblyscrumptiousdonut2 @nekoannie-chan @vintagepigeon @also-fangirlinsweden @old-enough-to-know-better73 @lil-stark @wonderlandfandomkingdom @loki-leufeyson-81 @shadesofgreyngold @marvelgurl @a-daydreamers-day @rumoured-whispers @ccmarvelxx @xoxabs88xox @harpersmariano @aikeia @supraveng @dottirose @amelia-song-pond @pineprincess @redridingpants @everythingisoverrated @barnesafterglow @blizzspeaks

Hot Girl Shit Taglist (25/25): @ietss​ @winters-moon-child​ @artemis-the2nd​ @kmuir1​ @solarapower​ @rainbowkisses31​ @emmabarnes​ @starlightcrystalline​ @shadowsndaisies​ @poppunkdork​ @simplybarnes​ @speedysimp​ @writerwrites​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @sleepingspacedragon​ @intense-socks​ @methadonepretty​ @wonder-cole​ @wxstedhexrt​ @brooklyn-1918​ ​​ @fighterkimburgess​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @justsayk​ @marie975​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #social media au #bucky barnes fanfiction #hot girl shit #steve rogers #sam wilson #steve rogers x sam wilson #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff #john walker #marvel #marvel au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Hot Girl Shit [chapter 3]

Series Masterlist

Summary: After a bad breakup, Y/N decides to spend her time doing “hot girl shit” and swears off relationships altogether. When she starts flirting with an anonymous Brooklyn based social media influencer, she might just find out her internet crush is closer to her than she realizes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major for this chapter except some h*ckin words

A/N: Anyone who gets the Glee reference wins 1000 points today. Let the games begin. If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists click here!

Permanent Taglist (29/50): @blckwidowbucky​ @morningstar-joy​ @jamesbuckybarnes-anon​ @buckysmischief​ @heyhihellowhatsup0​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @sovereignparker​ @dumblani​ @chewymoustachio​ @daughterofthenight117​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @mariaenchanted​ @niall2017​ @aliceaddellheidde​ @lexy9716​ @lilliannaansalla​ @willowtree42095​ @superblyscrumptiousdonut2​ @nekoannie-chan​ @vintagepigeon​ @also-fangirlinsweden​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @lil-stark​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @loki-leufeyson-81​ @shadesofgreyngold​ @marvelgurl​ @a-daydreamers-day​ @rumoured-whispers​​​​

Hot Girl Shit Taglist (19/25): @ietss​ @winters-moon-child​ @artemis-the2nd​ @kmuir1​ @solarapower​ @rainbowkisses31​ @emmabarnes​ @starlightcrystalline​ @shadowsndaisies​ @poppunkdork​ @simplybarnes​ @speedysimp​ @writerwrites​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @sleepingspacedragon​ @intense-socks​ @methadonepretty​ @wonder-cole​ @wxstedhexrt​ ​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes #social media au #bucky barnes fanfiction #hot girl shit #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #steve rogers x sam wilson #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff #john walker #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel au #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Hot Girl Shit [chapter 4]

Series Masterlist

Summary: After a bad breakup, Y/N decides to spend her time doing “hot girl shit” and swears off relationships altogether. When she starts flirting with an anonymous Brooklyn based social media influencer, she might just find out her internet crush is closer to her than she realizes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Everyone being a huge chaotic idiot

A/N: The plot THICKENS! I’m falling in love with Yelena someone send help (except don’t). If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists click here!

Hot Girl Shit Taglist (20/25):  @ietss @winters-moon-child @artemis-the2nd @kmuir1 @solarapower @rainbowkisses31 @emmabarnes @starlightcrystalline @shadowsndaisies @poppunkdork @simplybarnes @speedysimp @writerwrites @valsworldofcreativity @sleepingspacedragon @intense-socks @methadonepretty @wonder-cole @wxstedhexrt @brooklyn-1918

Permanent Taglist (32/50): @blckwidowbucky​ @morningstar-joy​ @jamesbuckybarnes-anon​ @buckysmischief​ @heyhihellowhatsup0​ @whitewolfandthefox​ @sovereignparker​ @dumblani​ @chewymoustachio​ @daughterofthenight117​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @mariaenchanted​ @niall2017​ @aliceaddellheidde​ @lexy9716​ @lilliannaansalla​ @willowtree42095​ @superblyscrumptiousdonut2​ @nekoannie-chan​ @vintagepigeon​ @also-fangirlinsweden​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @lil-stark​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @loki-leufeyson-81​ @shadesofgreyngold​ @marvelgurl​ @a-daydreamers-day​ @rumoured-whispers​ @ccmarvelxx​ @princess-jules47​ @xoxabs88xox​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes #social media au #bucky barnes fanfiction #hot girl shit #bucky barnes fanfic #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #steve rogers x sam wilson #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #john walker #marvel #marvel au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Hot Girl Shit [chapter 5]

Series Masterlist

Summary: After a bad breakup, Y/N decides to spend her time doing “hot girl shit” and swears off relationships altogether. When she starts flirting with an anonymous Brooklyn based social media influencer, she might just find out her internet crush is closer to her than she realizes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, a few h*ckin words, the false sense of security i’m lulling you into

A/N: This chapter is just cute. It’s soft and fluffy and definitely not because the next one’s gonna hurt. Nope. Not at all. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists click here!

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes #social media au #bucky barnes fanfiction #hot girl shit #bucky barnes fanfic #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #steve rogers x sam wilson #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #wanda maximoff #john walker #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Marvel AU #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

The World That I Wanted [b.b.]

Summary: After Bucky begrudgingly lets you throw him a birthday party, the two of you are ready for bed when your traditionally tight-lipped boyfriend opens up in a way he never has before. 

Word Count: 2024

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky’s rough past, I think a couple h*ckin words here and there. 99% fluff

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a while and Bucky’s birthday seemed like the perfect time to put it out there. Inspried by the song In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt. Happy birthday @jamesbuckybarnes-anon. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around. Thank you to @golden-parker and @emmabarnes for beta reading. If you’d like to be added to my taglist just send an ask!

As you stumbled sleepily into the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend and kicked off your heels, you found yourself unable to keep the smile off your face. Bucky followed close behind, his hand resting in its usual spot on the small of your back. Both of you were exhausted, but at the same time felt more at ease than you had in ages.

It had taken you the better part of a month to convince Bucky to let you throw him a birthday party. At first, he wouldn’t tell you why he didn’t want one. All he would say was he didn’t like parties. You could understand that, since crowds had a tendency to trigger his anxiety, but you knew him well enough to know there was more to it than that. Bucky wasn’t much of a talker so it took some prodding but eventually, you got him to admit the truth.

“I don’t like thinkin’ about all the ones I missed,” he had admitted, avoiding your gaze. The pain in his voice coupled with the way he refused to look at you nearly shattered your heart. Bucky didn’t talk much about his time with HYDRA. You assumed he did during his weekly therapy sessions, but he never so much as casually mentioned it to you. Not that you expected him to. The torment he’d endured for so long put a heavy burden on him, and as much as you wanted to shoulder some of it, you knew you couldn’t press him for it. When he was ready to tell you, he would. And this was the closest he’d ever come to telling you anything about it. You held his face gently in your hands and waited until his eyes met yours to speak.

“I know a lot of your memories aren’t great,” you said softly, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “And I know I can't tell you to just leave your past behind you. What I can tell you is right here, right now, you have so many people who love you and want to show you how much we do. If you want me to just shut up and drop it I will, but please at least just think about it.”

After a few days, Bucky agreed to a party but only on the condition it be a small affair. In the end, it was the two of you along with Steve, Sam, Wanda and Pietro, Natasha, and a few other friends Bucky had made through groups and around town. When the party started, he was glued to your side, offering nothing more than polite nods to the guests as his hand gripped yours tightly. As the evening wore on and the drinks flowed, he slowly started to relax. His hand left yours from time to time and he even allowed himself to be plopped behind a cake at the head of the table while everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” He laughed and joked with his friends as you watched with a permanent smile etched on your face. You’d never seen him so at ease or talkative and it made your heart flutter. If anyone in the world deserved peace and a fun, light-hearted birthday party, it was James Buchanan Barnes.

Eventually, the party wound down and the two of you made your way back to your room with your hands locked together and your soft laughter filling the air. Bucky closed the door behind you and yawned softly, shrugging off his sweatshirt.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” you said, offering him a sleepy smile. “I’ll meet you in bed.” He returned your smile and nodded, not saying a word as he walked toward the bed. You chuckled softly to yourself and went to the closet, fishing out a pair of Bucky’s boxers and a t-shirt. When Bucky got tired he was always quieter than usual, so as you changed and crawled into bed with him, you fully expected him to be silent the rest of the night. It didn’t matter though. You could tell by the way he sighed in contentment and wrapped his arms around your waist that he was happy. His silence was his way of telling you everything was good. He pulled you gently back against his chest and you sighed softly, relaxing in his arms and pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. This was the best part of your day. Everything was quiet and calm and the two of you could just be. You loved it and you were pretty sure he did too.

“Goodnight, baby,” you yawned softly. “Happy birthday.” Bucky squeezed you gently and kissed the back of your head.

“Night, baby,” he murmured against your hair. “Thank you.” You smiled as he held you close and your eyes slipped closed, ready to let sleep overtake you.

Try as you might, you couldn’t fall asleep. Normally, you could drift off quickly and you assumed with how tired you were, tonight would be no different. And yet here you lay, eyes closed in your warm bed, with sleep eluding you. It took everything in your power not to groan in frustration. Bucky’s chest rose and fell rhythmically behind you and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. Sleep could be tricky for him and once he was awake he could never go back to sleep. You thought if you could just stay still enough for long enough you’d eventually trick your brain to sleep. Just as you finally felt yourself starting to drift off, you heard something that woke you right back up.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Your brow furrowed at his words and you scooted back into him a bit. You thought maybe he might just be talking in his sleep, but then he hugged you tighter and spoke again.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered sweetly, kissing your head again. You bit your lip gently and stayed still in his arms as he tucked your hair behind your ear. Did he know you were awake?

“I love you so much,” he said, kissing your temple softly. “Sometimes more than I ever thought possible. I never thought I could have a life like this. Never thought I deserved it. Then you came along and knocked me right on my ass, baby girl. You took my hand and led me down this path for myself that I didn’t even see. I was living in a world that I needed but you showed up and gave me the world that I wanted.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possessed to keep yourself from opening your eyes and turning around. Shock ran through every part of you not only at Bucky’s heartfelt words but at how much he was saying. He had never spoken this much at once before and now that he was you never wanted him to stop.

“My therapist has been helping me practice all this,” he whispered, brushing his fingers along your side. “She said I should start by saying it in the mirror, then I could try while you were sleeping until eventually I’m ready to tell you to your face. She says not to rush it. Keeps tellin’ me I don’t have to worry and that we have all the time in the world.” His voice was thick, and you felt him move a hand off of you to dab at his eyes. He took a deep breath, and you felt his chest shake a little as he did. It almost broke you but you stayed still, hoping he would keep talking.

“She doesn’t get it,” he continued, going back to rubbing your side gently. “She thinks we have all this time, but we don’t. I have no idea how many lifetimes I’m gonna be around for. This damn serum could make me live forever. Nobody knows. But I do know that you only have the one and I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know that all the best parts of me I got from knowing you. The time I have with you is finite and I’m so grateful for every single day. Every second I spend with you is perfect. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just need to get my shit together and tell you when it counts.” Tears welled behind your closed eyes as your heart swelled in your chest. Bucky had said sweet things to you before, I love you’s and pet names and other endearments, but he’d never told you anything like this. It was better than any poetry or sonnet you’d ever heard. You never knew Bucky had this side to him before. As you were about to say something, he spoke again.

“I know I’m not so good with words sometimes,” he admitted sheepishly, and you could almost feel the heat of his blush against your back. “But I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around. I’m everything that I am because of you. You call me your hero all the time, but the truth is you’re mine. You taught me how to love again. How to smile again. How to be the kind of man I’ve always wanted to be. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to tell you all this to your face, but I promise someday soon I will.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Tears were running down your cheeks and you felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, so you opened your eyes and turned in his arms. Bucky froze and his eyes widened as yours met his. The color drained from his face as he realized what had happened. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath before he spoke.

“H-How long have you been awake?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I never fell asleep,” you answered softly, causing his cheeks to flush so brightly that you could see it even with the lights off. “How long have you been doing that? The talking to me while I’m asleep thing?”

“A-A while,” he said bashfully, looking down. “I’m sorry, baby.” You put your index finger under his chin and lifted it gently, waiting for him to look at you again.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” you asked softly. He shrugged gently and played with the hem of your shirt.

“For not being able to say it sooner,” he said. “I should have.” You smiled up at him and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His arms wound around your waist and he pulled you close, pressing his chest to yours.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m glad I heard you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, returning your kiss. “And I meant every word.”

“I know you did, my love,” you answered. “I want you to know that I don’t care how much time we have together. It could be one year or ten years or a thousand. I want to spend every single one of them with you. As long as I’m here, I’m with you.” Bucky smiled wider than you had ever seen him before and brushed his thumb across your lips.

“Promise?” he asked softly.

“On one condition.” Bucky’s eyebrow quirked at your words and you could feel the small twinge of anxiety that sparked in him as it did.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to hide the fear that tinted his voice.

“You have to keep saying sweet things to me,” you said, matching the smile that split his face.

“I can definitely do that, doll,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. The pair of you wrapped your arms around each other and held tight, falling asleep with your lips still connected.

From that day on, no matter where in the world he was, Bucky made it a point at least once a day to tell you all the different ways he loved you. And for all the years the two of you were together, you never got tired of hearing it.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #the world that i wanted #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #happy birthday bucky #buck boi barnes #aka my husband #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

Manhattan [s.w.]

Summary: After your relationship with Sam Wilson ends, the two of you have to decide if a city the size of New York really is big enough for the both of you.

Word Count: 2766

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Angst. So much anst. This is nothing but sadness. 

A/N: My first Sam fic! Inspired by the song Manhattan by Sara Bareilles. I’ve been tossing several ideas for Sam around for forever and I’m so excited to get one out. Also I found a new moodboard app and I’m making it everyone’s problem. I should apologize for this but I’m not going to because of who I am as a person. Thanks to @morningstar-joy​ for beta reading! If you’d like to be added to any of my open taglists click here!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

That was all you could think about as you stared at the pair of suitcases sitting by the door. They were too bright, too cheerful for the somber task they were meant to carry out. God, why did you have to pick fluorescent pink luggage? How juvenile could you be? Sam had rolled his eyes when you bought them, chuckling at your excitement.

“Think of it this way,” you’d said with a grin. “I’ll never lose track of my bags at the airport.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he’d laughed in response.

That day, and all the laughter you’d shared with Sam, seemed like eons ago. Now, even the bright pink of your bags seemed dull and lifeless as they stood ready to carry you away from the home you and Sam once shared.

You weren’t even sure how things ended. How you went from so blissfully happy to heartbroken so quickly. There hadn’t been any fighting or yelling. Not even the slightest of disagreements. Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t. After you came back from the Snap and found Sam again, you thought everything would just go back to normal. As long as the two of you were together you were certain it would all work out. Somehow. But then the Flag Smashers and Karli appeared, and Sam went off to save the world again. And the two of you just…drifted.

And now here you were, ready to sneak out of your home without so much as a goodbye. Some people, even you under other circumstances, might think it to be cold. Maybe it was. But you had both already said everything that needed to be said. And you still loved him so much. Adding a final goodbye on top of everything else would just be too painful. This was the best way. For both of you.

You took one final look around the apartment with tears welling in your eyes as you reached for your purse. The sound of keys in the lock stopped you in your tracks. Your heart jumped up into your throat as Sam opened the door and stepped through, nearly tripping over your suitcases in the process. His eyes flitted back and forth between your bags and your stunned face several times before he finally put the pieces together. When he did, you watched as his face crumpled completely. The pain you saw in his eyes nearly ripped your heart from your chest. This was exactly what you were trying to avoid.

“So,” he said quietly. “Just like that?” If your heart wasn’t broken before, it was now. You could feel the hurt and betrayal rolling off of him in waves and you wanted nothing more than to throw your arms around him and make it go away. Your hand even twitched slightly before you thought better of it and looked down at the ground.

“I thought it would be easier this way,” you mumbled softly, wringing your hands. “Bucky said I can stay in his spare room until I find a new place.” You looked up, expecting to see pain renewed in his features, but instead, he looked confused.

“Why are you leaving?” he asked. You had to stop the laugh that tried to escape at his question. He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

“Wait, really?” you asked, furrowing your brow. “We’re…you know…we’re not…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. Neither of you had said the words out loud. Even though you both knew, something about the words “break up” made everything even more painful.

“No, I know,” Sam said softly. “I just thought I would be the one to leave.” Shock colored your face at his words. This apartment had been Sam’s before you had gotten together. He kept it to use when he was in New York, which wasn’t often due to his busy Avenging schedule, but once you moved in, he spent more and more time there. It made sense that you would be the one to leave.

That’s when you noticed the ticket in his hands.

“Sam, no,” you protested. “This is your home. I can’t make you leave.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” Sam replied. “This place didn’t become a home until the day you stepped foot into it. If you’re not here…it’s just rooms.” Tears threatened at the edges of your eyes, but you fought them back. You couldn’t let him see you cry. Not now.

“Sam, it’s really ok,” you said. “Bucky’s expecting me anyway.”

“Bucky snores like a chainsaw and talks in his sleep,” Sam countered with a chuckle. “Trust me. I’m doing you a favor. Besides, Sarah’s been buggin’ me to get home more. She needs help with the business and the boys. It’s ok. Really.”

“But the Avengers,” you argued. “They’re based in New York. And they’ll need Captain America.”

“This might come as a shock to you, but I can literally fly,” Sam smiled. “And cell phones? Made it all the way to Delacroix and work to boot.” You laughed despite yourself and smiled up at him.

“Sam, I’m serious,” you said. “I don’t think-“

“Bab-“

Sam stopped short as the term of endearment almost slipped out of his mouth. Both of your hearts stopped. Fresh pain flooded your chest as you tried to stave off a new wave of tears. You could see it in him too. Heartbreak was drawn all over the face of the man you’d come to love, and you couldn’t imagine a more excruciating feeling. This was your fault. The pain in Sam’s heart right now, the anguish etched into the lines of his beautiful face, it was all your doing. And nothing you could say or do would make it go away.

“Y/N,” Sam said, pushing through the crack in his voice that both of you heard but pretended not to. “Every good and happy memory I have in this city is with you. Manhattan has never been my home. Not really. It was just a place I was living for a while. Then I met you. And Manhattan became our place. The place where we fell in love. And I started to like it more and more. But if you’re gone…if you’re not here with me it turns back into some place I happen to live. If I stay here without you, all that’ll happen is I’ll spend every day surrounded by all those memories reminding me I’m not yours anymore.”

“Sam…,”

“Manhattan is your home,” he continued. “It always has been. You have friends and memories here that have nothing to do with me. It’ll be more than just a place to live for you. So, you can have Manhattan. It’s ok. It’s for the best.”

You couldn’t fight back the tears anymore. They rolled down your cheeks as Sam spoke, and you let them. Fighting them felt useless at this point. You wanted to say something to him. You know you should. But your brain seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace and you couldn’t remember how to form words anymore. All you could do was nod slowly and watch as he turned to leave. With every step he took toward the door the panic in your chest rose. You didn’t want this to be the last time you ever saw him. You didn’t want those to be the last words you ever said to him. His hand was on the doorknob when you finally remembered your voice.

“Sam!”

He stopped and turned to look at you, his brown eyes wide and cutting right to your heart. The words you had found only seconds ago faded from your head, leaving you a crying, blubbering mess.

But Sam. Oh, Sam. Even when you weren’t able to speak, he knew. A small, knowing smile formed on his lips as he crossed the room to you. His hands cupped your face gingerly, and his thumbs brushed away the tears that still stained your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he whispered gently. “I know.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then he turned and slowly walked out the door.

The next day when you came home from work, all of Sam’s things were gone. You shouldn’t have been surprised, given everything he’d told you as he was leaving, but the shock of him clearing out so quickly still sent you reeling. You curled yourself around his pillow in bed and cried yourself to sleep that night.

And the next night.

And the night after that.

When the lease of the apartment was up two months later you found a new one. Staying in the home you’d shared with Sam was just too much. You found a place you could call your own and began the slowest year of your life.

It was harder than you thought it would be. Sam was right when he said the city was filled with memories the two of you shared. You saw him everywhere you went, even long after you knew he’d gone back to Louisiana. Every street around your old home was full of crystal-clear images of your life with Sam Wilson. There was a café he used to take you to for coffee dates where you’d see him sitting at your favorite table. Around the corner was a subway station that replayed the image of him catching you as you tripped down the stairs. The lobby of your office building had a continuous loop of the day he surprised you with flowers on your first anniversary. If he were dead you would have thought it was his ghost, and more than once you had to Google his name to check for any horrific headlines. All you ever found were stories of Captain America’s heroism that managed to simultaneously fill you with pride and break your heart all over again.

Slowly, more slowly and painfully than you’d ever admit, things started to get better. You stopped crying yourself to sleep. You didn’t have to change the channel when news reports with Sam’s face popped up. Bucky was even almost starting to convince you to let him set you up with one of his friends in Brooklyn. Almost. You were healing, and the memories of you and Sam from around the city began to slowly fade from sharp technicolor to black and white.

Until…

It was a Tuesday. A Tuesday like all the others since he left. You had your coffee in hand, and you were on your way to get a breakfast sandwich from your favorite bodega when you saw him. You turned the last corner and stopped dead in your tracks, nearly spilling the coffee all over your shirt. It was him. Sam was there, not a memory or a ghost, but the man himself in the flesh. He had a smile plastered on his face and a crowd of children gathered around him, all clapping and cheering and holding up various pieces of Captain America merchandise for him to sign. He obliged them, of course, because that was the kind of man he was. He didn’t rush a single one of them. Sam posed for every photo and signed every autograph he could, his smile painted on his face the whole time.

A sense of bittersweet pride filled you as you watched him. It was good to see him looking so happy, a stark contrast to your last encounter. But a part of you wished you could be there with him, smiling from a spot on his arm and not hiding behind a lamppost. You were just about to duck out and skip breakfast when Sam looked up, and your eyes met.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. All the air rushed from your lungs and your muscles turned to stone inside your body. Sam seemed to have a similar reaction as he stared at you, his smile dropping from his face for the briefest of moments. Manhattan was empty for that one instant, save for the two of you. Then, Sam recovered his smile and said something that pulled a groan from the crowd, and much to your horror, he started walking toward you. Your heart pounded against your ribs and sweat beaded on the back of your neck as he drew closer.

“Y/N, hey,” he said with a sheepish grin. “It’s good to see you. How have you been?” He made a move like he was going to hug you, but thought better of it at the last moment and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, struggling to keep your voice level. “I’m good. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Yeah, you too,” Sam replied, shifting awkwardly in his spot. “Y-You look good.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words and your cheeks started to burn.

“Th-thanks,” you stammered. “So do you.” An awkward silence filled the air between you as you looked down at your feet.

“I forgot you were the one who told me about this place,” Sam said finally, motioning to the storefront behind him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t own these places, Sam.”

“No, I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I just…I guess I don’t really know how to handle this.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied. “So…what brought you back into town?”

“Avenging,” Sam answered. “We have a press conference tomorrow about a mission we just finished.”

“Oh, right,” you said, nodding slowly. “I figured it was Avengers duty.” The silence fell again, and you had to look away from him. You could feel his eyes still on you and it was only serving to make you sweat more. All the healing and progress you had made went flying out the window the second you looked up into his eyes again. There was a comforting sense of familiarity there, but also something different that you couldn’t quite put a name to. Sam had changed. You were sure of it, because you had too. But there was something in the way he looked at you that ignited a spark of hope in you. Maybe you had both changed enough. Maybe now there was a chance. Maybe…

“Sam, I-“

“Baby!”

That small ember of hope you’d felt a moment ago was quickly stamped out, crushed under the heel of the beautiful woman walking toward Sam. He smiled at her; the kind of smile that used to be reserved for you and took the coffee she offered him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple before turning back to you. “Y/N, this is my girlfriend, Monica Rambeau. Monica, this is Y/N.” Bless Sam Wilson, he had the decency to look apologetic as Monica beamed at you and shook your hand.

“So nice to meet you,” she said with a dazzling smile. “Sam hardly ever talks about his friends in New York.” His friends. You knew she didn’t mean for her words to hurt as much as they did. Monica clearly didn’t know the history between you and Sam, so you couldn’t hold it against her. It still hurt though.

“Nice to meet you too,” you said, trying your best to disguise the thickness that coated your voice. “I’m so sorry, but I actually have to run. I’m late for work.” Sam arched an eyebrow, obviously seeing through your lie, but mercifully not calling you on it.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” he said, nodding slightly. “It was really good to see you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied with a forced smile. “It was nice meeting you, Monica. I’ll see you both around.”

“Nice meeting you!” Monica called, watching you rush away. Sam was watching you too, but for an entirely different reason. There was a pang in his chest, one he hadn’t felt in a long time. He watched you walk away and round the corner and couldn’t help but feel like you were taking a piece of him with you. It was the same feeling he’d had on the day he left.

“She seems nice,” Monica said, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Yeah,” Sam answered quietly. “She is.”

“You ready to go?” she asked, smiling up at him. “Bucky won’t let you hear the end of it if we’re late.” Sam let his eyes linger on the spot where you’d turned the corner for another second before he nodded and put his arm around Monica.

“Yeah, baby,” he said with another kiss to her temple. “I’m ready.”

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#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #manhattan #sam wilson angst #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #angst #breakup #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

To Love And Be Loved By Me [b.b]

Summary: The story of Eros and Psyche was quite literally the stuff of legends. When he lost her to the perils of mortality, Eros too lost himself. He wandered the world, lost and alone until fate gave them another chance. Will things be different this time around? Can Eros find a way to save his love before it’s too late?

Word Count: 11K

Pairing: Eros! Bucky x Psyche! Reader

Warnings: Just...so much angst, lots of talk of death, blood, needles, car accidents

A/N: This is officially the longest one shot I’ve written to date and OH BOY. I love it so much. I wanted this to be done by Valentine’s Day but I also wanted it to be good so it took a little longer. I fell in love with the idea of an Eros!Bucky story but I didn’t want to to do regular myth. I don’t directly name all the gods as MCU charaters because they don’t really matter, so you can make them whoever they are in your head. The ones who need to be named are by the end. Big thanks to @morningstar-joy​ for beta reading! If you’d like to be added to my taglist just send an ask!

Eros hated the rain.

Rain always spoiled everything. It led to canceled plans and ruined events and even though Demeter and Persephone danced with joy whenever it came, Eros always found himself grumbling. Now, watching as fat raindrops splattered across the stone marked with Psyche’s name, he couldn’t imagine ever hating it more.

He stood at the end of the grave, his hands shaking as he held the single red rose he’d picked up on the way. His mother stood beside him, her hand rested delicately on his shoulder to keep him balanced. A few other Olympians had come to pay their respects as well; his father, Ares, Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, and Hermes. Hades was markedly absent, along with Persephone, a fact that was not lost on Eros. But he only had time for one overwhelming emotion at a time, and right now his grief far outweighed his anger.

Nobody said a word. Immortals were normally a chatty group but none of them seemed to know what to say. Eros assumed it was the first funeral most of them had ever been to.

Why did it have to be hers?

He stepped forward, legs shaking as he did, and kneeled in front of her gravestone. His fingers brushed over her name as he set the rose on the ground beneath it. Never, in all his eons of existence, had Eros felt pain like this. He didn’t even think he could feel like this until now. As his eyes passed over the quote on the stone, a sob ripped through him.

If I know what love is, it is because of you.

Eros had chiseled the words there himself, despite his mother and father telling him it wasn’t necessary. There needed to be more on the stone than just her name. People who came after them needed to know how important she was.

One by one, the Olympians who had come for her took their leave. None of them spoke as they left, leaving Eros to his sorrow. Eventually, only three of them remained; Zeus, Aphrodite, and Eros. As Eros wept, his mother stepped forward and crouched down beside him. She wrapped an arm around her son and held him close, kissing his temple softly.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispered gently. Eros took a shaky breath and turned to face her, his face soaked in tears and rain.

“She deserved more time,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “We deserved more time.”

“I know,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing. “But she was mortal, my dear. You knew from the beginning that you would have to say goodbye one day.”

“But not yet!” he snapped. “She was young. Even by mortal standards, she was too young to die. It’s not right.”

“You may not think so, but that’s how human life works.” He knew his mother was trying to help, but all she was doing was unknowingly pouring salt into a gaping wound.

“Hades is behind this,” he said firmly, his eyes turning back to Psyche’s tombstone. Aphrodite sighed gently and shook her head.

“Eros, you know that’s not true,” she replied. “All humans die, just as they’re born. That’s the way it is.”

“What I know is that Hades has always been jealous of us,” Eros growled. “Psyche and I had what she and Persephone never could, so she took her from me.”

“That’s enough,” Zeus thundered from behind them. “I understand you’re grieving but I won’t stand here and listen to you accuse my sister of things you know aren’t true Eros. I’m sorry about your wife. I really am. Psyche was an amazing woman, but it was her time.” The king replaced his glasses and ran a hand through his perfectly trimmed goatee as Eros struggled to keep himself calm. Aphrodite could sense his tension and stood, turning to face Zeus.

“We should return to Olympus,” she said, wiping her eyes gently. “There’s still much work to be done.”

“No.”

The two of them turned quickly to face Eros who hadn’t moved a muscle.

“What do you mean, no?” Zeus asked, barely containing his anger. The king did not tolerate being disrespected and Eros knew he was toeing a dangerous line, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I’m not going back,” he said flatly. “Ever.”

“But…but Olympus is your home,” his mother protested. “Your work is there. Your family is there.”

“My family is buried in the earth right in front of me,” he countered, his voice shaking. “I won’t return to a home where she isn’t.”

“And what of your duties?” Zeus demanded. “You have a job to do, boy. You can’t turn you back on your responsibilities.”

“Watch me,” Eros spat. A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as lightning flashed in Zeus’ eyes.

“Watch how you speak to me,” he growled, taking a step forward. Aphrodite, recognizing the king’s flaring temper, stepped between the two of them and rested her hand on Zeus’ shoulder.

“Your Majesty,” she said softly. “Forgive my son. His heart is too burdened by grief to understand the weight of his words. It might be best if we leave him.” Zeus glared at Eros for a moment before he nodded, holding out his hand for Aphrodite’s.

“I’ll be expecting you.”

Eros waited until he was sure they were gone before looking over his shoulder. He was alone now. He looked back at the stone and almost felt taunted by it. His tears came harder now, and he laid on the ground, hoping it might open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m sorry, Psyche,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have saved you. I should have tried harder.” His breath came in pants as he curled into himself, his words drowned by the weight of his heartbroken wailing. Wind cut him to the core, but he didn’t move. Nothing mattered now. She was all he’d had and now she was gone.

The sun had almost completely set by the time Eros opened his eyes. He was soaked to the bone and shivering violently, but he still didn’t want to leave. Leaving meant it was really over. She would really be gone. Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at her name. Each time he saw it was like a fresh knife right through his heart.

“I swear, my love,” he murmured. “I swear on your grave. For as long as I live, as long as my heart beats in my chest, no mortals shall know love. If I can’t have mine, they can’t have theirs.”

And so, the god of love renounced his duties. He ignored the calls of Olympus and the pull in his heartstrings whenever a love needed his help igniting. If he had the power to give up his immortality he would have, but that ability was reserved for Zeus alone, and the king of Olympus was nothing if not stubborn. The two of them seemed determined to wait each other out, hoping one of them would bend to the other’s will.

But neither did.

Eros wandered a bit, hopelessly depressed, but never let himself get too far from Psyche’s resting place. He wanted to be able to visit her as often as his aching heart would allow, which ended up being nearly every day. No matter the weather or the season, Eros found himself settling in front of her tombstone, sometimes not even realizing he’d left his home.

He always brought something for her. Some days he read to her. Others, he just talked about what he’d seen that day. Once, he sat down to find a lyre had been left leaning against her grave, but nobody was there to claim it. When he picked up the golden instrument, the clouds broke and sunlight poured down on him, eliciting the faintest of smiles.

“Thank you, Apollo,” he whispered. On that day, Eros sang.

Mortal time passed strangely. Eros had never really needed to keep track of it before but now that he was, it felt odd. Things that could be done in an instant on Olympus took weeks on Earth. It was all he could do not to use his powers to complete everyday tasks. Somehow, he managed to learn. By his count, it had been six months since Psyche’s funeral and he finally felt like he was getting a handle on human life. The sun was warm and the breeze was soft as he made his way to the graveyard at Kerameikos, a book of poetry tucked under his arm. The cemetery was vast, but he knew the path to her grave well. The stone had just come into view when Eros felt an itch on his left shoulder. He shrugged it off as best he could, but by the time he sat at the foot of her grave the itch had progressed to a burn.

“What the?” he hissed, pulling up his sleeve to inspect his skin. Right in the center of his left shoulder, burned dark into his flesh, was a small, heart-shaped mark.

“That’s going to keep happening.”

Eros jumped up and spun around at the voice behind him, gasping softly when he saw Aphrodite standing there.

“Mother,” he breathed, dropping his book. “I…how…what are you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you too,” she smirked, stepping forward to pull him into a tight hug. Eros wrapped his arms around her and was surprised at the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You took me by surprise is all. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my darling boy,” she said, pulling back and looking him over. “Oh, my sweet. You look so tired.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips.

“You never change, do you Mother?” he asked.

“If by that you mean I never stop worrying about my son then yes, you’re right,” she answered, taking his chin between her thumb and forefinger. They exchanged soft smiles for a moment before Eros remembered her words.

“What did you mean when you said this is going to keep happening?” Aphrodite’s smile faltered at his question and she dropped her hands. The air around them seemed to drop a few degrees, almost like it was trying to warn Eros of what was to come.

“The mark on your arm,” the goddess said, gesturing toward it. “It’s the first but it won’t be the last.”

“What does it mean?” Eros asked, looking down and brushing his fingertips over it. The burning had faded but the mark remained dark against his skin.

“It means a true love has been lost,” she said quietly. “Two soulmates who were meant to meet didn’t, and never will.” Eros scoffed and bent down to grab his book, pulling his sleeve back down to cover the mark.

“Aren’t soulmates your duty?” he asked coldly.

“I only entwine the souls,” she explained, the softness in her voice somehow managing to stoke the flames of Eros’ anger further. “Getting the lovers to meet is Cupid’s job.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, glaring at her. “That’s not my job anymore.”

“It will always be your job, you’re just choosing not to do it,” she said. “You can’t change who you are. You are my son, Eros. The god of love.”

“What if I don’t want to be anymore?” he yelled, staring his mother down. “I buried my wife, Mother. I watched her die surrounded by gods who could have saved her but none of them lifted a finger! How am I supposed to set the entire mortal coil on their paths to love while mine rots in the dirt!” Tears were streaming down his face now and he didn’t care. All of the anger and sorrow he’d felt since Psyche died was seeping out of him, and once it started he couldn’t stop it.

“You know we would have saved her if we could have, Eros,” she answered. “The mortal world has rules that none of us can flout.”

“It’s not fair!” he screamed, his voice cracking on the last word. “Zeus spits in the face of every rule we have. Poseidon turned the world against Athena’s most loyal priestess and made her a monster but nothing can be done for Psyche?”

“It’s not up to us to determine what’s fair,” Aphrodite started, but Eros wouldn’t hear it.

“We should be able to make it so. We’re gods!” His voice echoed through the cemetery and Eros fell to his knees, weighed down by his grief. Aphrodite slowly crept forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. He recoiled slightly but felt too exhausted to move any further. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked up. The day looked every bit as beautiful as it had when he stepped out of his door, but somehow it felt as bleak as the day of Psyche’s funeral. His pain was overwhelming. Every day felt like he was breathing from underwater and walking with weights attached to his limbs. He just wanted her back.

“You have to let her go eventually,” Aphrodite said, breaking the silence between them. Eros’ breath caught in his chest as he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. She was right. They both knew it, but Eros was still so angry and far too stubborn to admit it. He was about to start yelling at her again when a glint of sunlight on stone caught his eyes. Shame mingled with his mourning as he turned to face it. Psyche’s name, and the quote he’d so carefully worded, started back at him, steadfast in the marble as the day he had carved it. This was supposed to be a place of rest and here Eros was, screaming and causing a scene. He could barely contain the disgust he felt at the disrespect he’d shown his own wife. He stood abruptly, causing his mother to gasp and step back. Everything was too much. He had to get away.

“Don’t come looking for me again,” he said, not meeting her gaze. There was a sound of wings flapping and before Aphrodite could even call his name, Eros was gone.

After that day, Eros did not return to Psyche’s grave. The guilt he felt over causing such a scene at the place she was meant to rest ate at him and drove him to run. He wandered the human world, broken, desperate, and alone. There was never a plan to where he went. Eros simply stumbled along wherever his feet and wings took him. He saw the hanging gardens of Babylon where they lay hidden away from the world. He helped lay stones at the Great Wall of China. He climbed to the top of the Eiffel tower the day it was completed. Eros saw the entire world. Then, he saw it again. Then, he saw it one more time. With each new wonder he laid his eyes on, he held Psyche in his heart. He imagined the way her face would light up at the inventions and innovations of mankind and how thrilled she would be to try everything. There were even times he could swear he felt her beside him. As he clung to pieces of the broken Titanic in the northern Atlantic or as he watched the bombs fall on helpless ships in Pearl Harbor, it felt like she was with him. He could never tell if he was imagining it or not, but he swore he heard her voice on the wind, guiding him to safety.

While Eros walked the Earth, the marks on his arm continued to appear, just as his mother said they would. The first one had hurt the most but by the time his arm was covered from shoulder to fingertip, he barely noticed when they appeared. Some were darker than others, but all of them stood out sharply against his skin. Eros took to wearing long sleeves year-round to deter stares and awkward conversations.

Perhaps the oddest thing about all the years he spent on Earth was how utterly alone Eros felt. Nobody, not his mother or father or even Zeus came looking for him. Finding him would have been no problem for them, he knew. Hermes was able to locate the gods anywhere at any time, and even though he’d told his mother not to come looking, part of him wished she would have. He’d lost his wife, he’d lost his faith, and apparently, he’d also lost his family. Eros, the god of love, was alone.

Present Day:  Brooklyn

Eros descended the stairs of his building, tugging on his leather jacket before stepping outside. He took a deep breath and looked around, taking in the city before he started off down the street. Everyone was just starting to wake up, and soon the air would be filled with shouting voices, car horns, and the clanking of construction equipment. He didn’t mind the noise though. Something about the chaos and scrambling of it all reminded him of Olympus. It was the closest he’d felt to home throughout his self-imposed 800-year exile. It pained him a bit, thinking of all that had surely changed since he’d left, but not enough to make him go back. Even though he hadn’t been back to Psyche’s grave since his confrontation with his mother, the idea of leaving her on Earth to go back home was unbearable. The gods didn’t want him back there or they would have said so. He was where he belonged.

“Hey, Buck!” one of his neighbors called, waving at him. He smiled and waved back as he crossed the street toward the coffee shop.

Bucky.

The alias he’d picked when he arrived in Brooklyn five years ago still felt foreign to him. Everyone here knew him by that name, but it usually took him a while to settle into them. He jogged across the street and followed the sidewalk to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that had become one of his favorite places. The sun was almost fully up now, and Bucky could tell it was going to be a beautiful day. It reminded him of the last time he’d been to see Psyche’s grave, all warm breezes and sunshine. The small smile that had tugged at his lips a moment ago fell away abruptly at the thought. Even after 800 years his heart still ached for his lost love. Sighing, he rounded the final corner. As he did, he felt the familiar itch starting at his left shoulder blade. It was stronger than any he’d felt in a long time, and Bucky rolled his shoulder in a vain attempt to placate it. Groaning softly, he pulled open the door to the coffee shop and plowed headfirst into a woman exiting.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed as hot coffee spilled over both of them. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s ok. Neither was I. Are you ok?”

That voice. Bucky froze in his spot when he heard it. This time he wasn’t hearing it on the back of the wind of the creak of a lifeboat as it bobbed on the water. This was real. It was her. Slowly, Bucky looked up.

“P-Psyche?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the strange name he called you and Bucky felt like his heart might burst. Even after 800 years you still managed to take his breath away.

“Sorry?” you asked. He was still staring at you dumbfounded as you offered him your name. It wasn’t the same, but it was somehow so distinctly you.

“O-Oh, sorry,” he said, finally taking a breath. “You um…you look like someone I used to know.”

“Was she covered in coffee too?” you giggled, and it was all Bucky could do not to pass out. He had never been more confused in his entire existence. You were here, but you weren’t you. Clearly, you didn’t know him, but even eight centuries apart couldn’t erase you from his memory. Every line, every freckle, every minute detail of you had been etched into his memory like stone and they were staring back at him in you. In all his confusion he hadn't even noticed the itch on his shoulder blade had faded before it had a chance to burn.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he stammered. “I’m normally not like this.”

“You mean this clumsy or this cute?” you asked, causing the blood to rush to his face. Cheeky. Just like he remembered.

“I guess both?” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Somehow I don’t believe that,” you said, fishing some napkins out of your bag and handing him one. “I’m sorry about the mess.” Bucky started dabbing at the stain on his shirt and shook his head.

“It’s my fault,” he replied. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Still, I feel terrible,” you countered. “Let me at least pay for your dry cleaning.”

“That’s really not-“

“I insist,” you interrupted, taking out your phone and handing it to him. “Let me get your number and I can pay you back.” Dumbstruck, Bucky could only nod as he took it and programmed his number in. He had to force himself not to type Eros and checked it three times before locking it and handing it back to you.

“It’s really no trouble,” he tried again, his hands still shaking.

“Maybe not,” you replied, flashing him a smile that made his stomach do backflips. “But if I don’t do something this will weigh on my conscience and slowly force me into overwhelming madness.” It took him a moment to catch onto the joke, and he managed to force out a laugh that matched yours before it got too awkward. You laughed with him and it was the most beautiful sound he’d heard in the better part of a millennium. Everything was so overwhelming. Bucky needed to get somewhere quiet where he could think but he didn’t want to leave you. He was terrified that if he even blinked you’d vanish, like it had all been some cruel trick by the universe just to further fracture his already broken heart. But his mind was racing too quickly to make sense of anything with you standing right there. You had his phone number. He hung onto that with everything he had as he spoke again.

“I um…I gotta…I have…,” he stammered, trying to connect his brain to his tongue long enough to form a coherent sentence. Blissfully, you chuckled.

“Yeah, me too,” you said. “Gotta change before work.” Bucky cringed as he looked over the large, brown stain on your white shirt.

“Sorry again,” he said, but you waved him off.

“Really, it’s ok,” you said. “Just hang onto your dry-cleaning receipt. And maybe after you can get me a replacement cup of coffee?”

“O-Ok,” he said, already stumbling over his feet as he turned to go. He was almost back to the corner when you called out.

“Wait! I didn’t get your name!” When he looked back he could see you scrolling through your phone, searching for the name that hadn’t been there moments ago. For some reason, you not knowing his name hit him like a slap in the face and it took him a solid fifteen seconds to reply.

“I’m Bucky.”

By the time Bucky came to his senses he had to stop completely and figure out where he was because he didn’t recognize anything. How long had he been walking? Everything since he’d turned the corner and taken his eyes off your face was a blur.

“What the actual fuck?” he mumbled to himself, leaning against the nearest building and sinking to the ground. Several people stared at him as they passed but he didn’t care. Millions of questions buzzed through his mind, like wasps disturbed from a nest. What was happening? How were you alive? Why didn’t you know him? Nothing made any sense at all and the longer he sat and thought, the more questions he came up with. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and dug his phone out of his pocket. First things first, he had to figure out where he was. He unlocked the screen only to immediately be greeted with a text from a number he didn’t know. Bucky’s heart pounded against his ribs as he opened it to find a picture of you staring back at him.

Now you have mine too! I hope that stain comes out. Let me know once you get it cleaned and we can meet up.

Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped on the photo to enlarge it. You were beaming at the camera, the coffee stain he’d left you with barely visible at the bottom of the frame. Sunlight danced off your skin and your smile stretched all the way up to your eyebrows giving Bucky a feeling of warmth in his heart that he didn’t think he was capable of feeling anymore. Along with the elation, he felt unbridled fear. You didn’t know him. Why didn’t you know him? Where The Fates toying with him? Was this some torment Zeus has concocted to try and get him to come home? A somber realization dawned over him, chilling Bucky to the bone. Only one god had this kind of power, and only one god reveled in this kind of pain. Bucky looked back down at his phone, making sure to save your number and photo before opening the map app to find the closest Greek church.

Had Bucky not been in such a hyper-focused state, he might have been able to appreciate how beautiful the church was. The cathedral ceilings towered above him and the massive stained glass windows threw rainbows at his feet as he walked. He nodded once at the priest as he passed, opting to forego small talk while he scanned the busts along the back wall. Stone eyes bored into his, sending shivers down his spine until he found the altar he needed. This was the closest he’d been to his kin since renouncing his duty, and he could feel the presence of all of them as he made his way forward.

The bust looked nothing like her, mostly because someone long ago had decided she was a man, but Bucky knew her symbols. He kneeled before the stone, checking over his shoulder for onlookers before drawing a small blade from his waistband. Wincing, he drew the cold steel across his palm and let a few droplets of blood fall onto the stone.

“I know you can hear me,” he hissed under his breath. “Get your ass down here. You and I have unfinished business.” As he replaced the knife and watched the wound on his hand close, someone sat down beside him.

“The blood is a bit dramatic, but I appreciate the commitment,” she said with a smirk.

“Cut the shit, Hades,” he snapped, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

“For the mortal’s sake let’s stick with Natasha,” she replied. “What have they been calling you?”

“Bucky,” he grumbled, finally turning to look at her. “Are the pleasantries really necessary?” She chuckled softly and tossed her red curls over her shoulder, leaning back to rest her elbows on the altar.

“Always a man of action,” she teased, looking out over the cathedral. “What do you think these mortals would do if they knew two of the gods they worship were standing right in front of them?” Bucky, having listened to as much of Natasha’s vanity as he could stomach, rose from his knees and turned to leave. She followed close behind, her high heels clacking on the stone floor. Neither of them spoke until they exited the building. Bucky stomped ahead, seething as he walked away from the church. As soon as the crowd around them had thinned enough for them not to be overheard he rounded on Natasha, and she was surprised to see that he was crying. When he spoke, his voice wasn’t coated with the loathing she expected, but rather low and shaking. If she didn’t know better, she would have called it fear.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked quietly. “Haven’t I suffered enough? Do you get off on my pain or something? I’ve never done anything to you Natasha, so why? Why are you tormenting me?” The goddess stared blankly at him, cocking her head in confusion. This wasn’t the headstrong god she’d come to know so many years ago. He was barely even a god anymore. She looked him up and down, taking note of the host of scars that covered his balled-up left fist, and found herself hardly recognizing him. Natasha drew in a deep breath and chose her next words carefully.

“Have you been gone from us so long that you’ve forgotten our ways, Eros?” Bucky flinched at the use of his true name and averted his gaze. The last person to call him that had been his mother, and coupled with the shock of seeing his lost love, it was too much.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his eyes still on the ground.

“Not here,” she responded, grabbing his right arm gently. He opened his mouth to argue but their air was already moving around them. When it settled, it took him a moment to realize where Natasha had brought him. The cemetery was far bigger than the last time he’d been here, but the mountains and the river remained the same. Even with all the change, he knew where he was. Horror-struck, he turned slowly and faced Natasha.

“I don’t want to be here,” he whispered.

“You need to see,” was her simple answer.

Bucky stood, rooted to the spot as he weighed his options. He could run, but it was pointless. Natasha was far stronger than him and if she wanted him here, she’d keep him here. He took a shuddering breath and turned his head, biting back a sob when he did.

“Psyche…”

The stone had worn down over the centuries, but it didn’t matter. Bucky would have recognized it even if it had been cracked in half. He fell to his knees at the foot of her grave and stared blankly ahead. Her name was barely visible anymore, chipped away by time and weather and overgrown by moss and ivy. His eyes watered as he took it all in.

“I should have come back,” he mumbled, speaking more to the stone than Natasha. Wind wrapped around him as hot tears poured down his cheeks. Natasha stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You had your reasons,” she said softly. Bucky scoffed and shook her hand off, glaring up at her.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked, wiping his face angrily. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” Natasha replied flatly, causing Bucky to falter. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t enjoy people’s pain.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky snapped, climbing to his feet.

“It’s the truth,” she continued, watching him carefully. “I don’t like watching people in pain, but I see my share of it. What I do is a part of life. That’s it.”

“Until someone has what you want,” Bucky challenged. “Until you decide to end life before its time.”

“I don’t kill people, Bucky,” Natasha said, her voice softer than before. “I have nothing to do with that. The Fates are in charge of the threads of life. My job is just to usher souls on their way. I hated seeing Psyche come through my gates. But it really was just her time.”

“You were always jealous,” he countered, shaking his head. “You wanted what Psyche and I had for you and Persephone.”

“Wanda and I,” she said through gritted teeth. “Are just fine. Our arrangement isn’t the concern. Psyche was fated to die so her string was cut. I didn’t even know until she walked through my door.” Anger burned in him as he glared at the Queen of the Underworld. He wanted to scream or hit something. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not again.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asked again. “Why torture me? I haven’t been here since-“

“I know,” she interrupted. “We all know. You cut yourself off from everyone and everything. Olympus didn’t stop when you walked away, Bucky. Our ways are ancient and unwavering. Psyche’s soul completed its cycle in the Underworld, and it was time for her to be reincarnated. This isn’t some punishment or grand plan to torment you. This is just the way it is.”

“Even if that’s true,” he said, his voice wavering. “Why not? Why Brooklyn?”

“Take that up with Phanes,” Natasha replied. “He’s in charge of new births. Last I heard he was somewhere on Earth going by Steve. All this is his territory. I know you think I take some kind of joy in all this, but I don’t. My job is just to maintain the natural order. I don’t take pleasure in watching people grieve but I also don’t let their grief stop me from keeping the scales in balance. Everyone lives. Everyone dies. That’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be. I’m sorry for what you had to endure but I can’t rewrite the laws of man. Not even for the people I care about.”

Bucky listened to her in silence as he stared at the tombstone. Some part of him knew she was right. Life was delicate and fragile, and its cycle kept the entire mortal realm in balance. He had spent so many lifetimes blaming Hades, assuming her jealousy had been what ripped Psyche from him, but now he could finally see the truth. She was just doing her job.

Her job.

His entire left arm tingled at the thought. Thousands of scars dotted his skin, a daunting reminder of the responsibility he’d neglected for so long. Soulmates spent their lives as lost and alone as he’d been, all because he was too busy wallowing in his own pain to help them find each other. Centuries of him being too self-absorbed to do his damn job. He thought that turning his back on love would somehow honor Psyche, but the harsh reality was that it tarnished her memory. All he’d managed to do was lose himself. Rather than honor her, he’d lost her too.

“I’m sorry, Hades,” he said softly, sniffling and wiping his eyes. She stood beside him and rubbed his arm gently. For the first time in all the eons he’d known her, she gave him a real, honest smile. He returned it and turned to go but she squeezed his arm to stop him.

“She’s still mortal, Bucky,” she reminded him. “Remember that. To love her again is to lose her again. Even I can’t change that.” His heart faltered at the thought and he bit his lip.

“Would you do it for Wanda?” She smiled again and let go of his arm.

“Over and over and over again,” she replied. Bucky returned it once more and turned on his heel, vanishing in the air among the flapping of wings. Natasha stared at the spot he’d been for a moment before she crouched down by the tombstone, brushing her fingers over the worn words.

“Take care of him. He’s going to need it.”

One Year Later

Loud honking horns from the street below dragged Bucky from an unusually peaceful sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking down in confusion at the strangely empty bed. When he went to sleep you had been curled up against his chest, but by the feel of the cold sheets, you’d been gone for some time.

“Angel?” he called gently, sitting up and tossing the covers back.

“I’m not in the kitchen!” you yelled from the kitchen. He chuckled softly and moved to get up, his face falling when he smelled something burning. Calling your name again, he jumped up and raced to the kitchen, skidding to a stop when he saw you. Splatters of batter clung to your cheeks, your nose, one of your eyebrows, and every surface in your shared kitchen. Bucky had to bite back laughter at the look of frustration on your face.

“Noooo,” you whined softly. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” The way your lip jutted out was enough to break his resolve and laughter bubbled to the surface. You pouted as he stepped forward and swiped some of the batter from your cheek with his thumbs.

“I think it still counts as a surprise, angel,” he smiled, licking the batter from his thumb. “Just a bit of a messy one.” Sighing, you rested your chin on his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” you said with a soft smile.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” he replied, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get this cleaned up and we can go out for a big breakfast.

The cleanup took a little longer than he’d planned but soon the kitchen was shiny and clean and the two of you made your way out to celebrate. Bucky took you for the breakfast he’d promised and then out for a walk through your favorite parts of the city. As you walked, Bucky held you close and smiled brightly. Smiles came so much easier to him now. For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt truly happy. Only he remembered everything from your lives before, but it didn’t matter. You were you and not Psyche, and even though you’d occasionally do something the same way as you would have eons ago, there was a clear distinction between who you were then and who you were now. Bucky found himself delighting in learning everything about you, and falling in love with you in entirely new ways.

With his love, came his work. He’d started up again a few months after your first official date where he’d finally replaced your spilled coffee, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever stopped. Whenever a pair needed help meeting, he was there to nudge them together. It felt good to be the god of love again, and even though he couldn’t tell you about it, he knew you’d be proud of him. Working again, being with you, all of it felt right. He felt lighter than he had in longer than he could remember and even though part of him knew there was an expiration date on everything the two of you had built, he refused to let himself wallow in that. He lived in the moment with you, and loved you with everything he had.

“Oooo, baby can we get ice cream?” you chirped beside him, pulling a chuckle from his lips.

“Sure, babydoll,” he replied, getting you a pair of matching cones from the cart you’d spotted. His arm found its home around your shoulders as you started through the park. You smiled as you ate, and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle again. Up ahead, maybe twenty or so yards from you, he saw a man he knew was one of his. He adjusted his arm over you and scanned the crowd until he found the match he was searching for. Another man, on the other side of the park, sat on a bench reading. Bucky smiled to himself as he passed his original target. He brushed his fingers along the man’s shoulders, and at the same time pointed at his match. Pulling his thumb back like a trigger, he smirked as he watched both of their eyes flash pink.

“Bullseye,” he mumbled under his breath as the first man changed directions, set on a path that would lead him right in front of the bench.

“What, baby?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Nothing, angel,” he smiled, kissing the end of your nose. “Just people watching.” You stole a kiss from him and went back to eating as he looked up over the crowd again. His smile crashed to the ground when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Natasha stared back at him, clad all in black with her red hair standing out like pure fire. She didn’t move, she barely blinked, but she stared directly at him. When their eyes met, Bucky felt like pure ice was sliding down his spine. Why did he feel so afraid?

“Who’s that?”

Everything slowed down and Bucky felt the ice that had coated his spine spill into the pit of his stomach.

“Who’s who?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.

“The redhead giving you the death glare,” you replied, licking your ice cream nonchalantly. The blood drained from Bucky’s face as he squeezed you tighter to him, his eyes still on Natasha.

“You can see her?” he breathed, his voice wavering. From across the way, Natasha gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

“Of course, I can see her,” you answered. “She’s staring right at us. Is she a friend of yours? Or an ex?” Tears threatened at the edges of his eyes as you spoke, and he felt sick to his stomach. There was only one reason mortals could perceive Hades when she was on Earth. When their thread of life was pulled taught, just prior to being cut, they could see through the veil and Hades would appear to them. You kept eating your ice cream as you waited for his answer, completely oblivious to the panic that was building in him.

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t know her.”

Bucky rushed you home after that, giving a weak excuse of not feeling well. You followed him with a concerned expression, holding his left hand in both of yours. Once you made it home he rushed to your bedroom, leaving you slightly stunned and alone, staring at the door as it slammed shut.

In the bedroom, Bucky was falling apart. This couldn’t be happening again. It was too soon. You were younger now than you had been the last time you were taken from him, and he had only just gotten you back. It wasn’t fair. You deserved more time. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, covering his mouth to muffle the sobs spilling out. If he thought his heart had been broken before, he’d been an idiot. It felt like someone had stolen the heart from his chest, leaving only a gaping chasm behind, and made him watch as they crushed it beneath their heel. He was helpless and breaking all over again.

“No,” he muttered, stumbling to his feet. He climbed frantically over the bed, tugging open his nightstand and sending the clock and lamp atop it tumbling to the ground.

“Bucky?”

He heard your soft voice and knock from behind him but he didn’t answer, searching desperately for the items he needed. You opened the door and walked slowly inside as he pulled some thread, scissors, and drachma from the drawer.

“Baby?” you called again, this time catching his attention. “Is everything ok? What are you doing?”

“Summoning The Fates,” he said bluntly, grabbing a tall white candle and book before marching past you into the living room.

“Summoning the…what?” you asked bewildered. He set the items on the coffee table as you trailed behind him, eyebrows stitched together.

“The Fates,” he repeated, looking around for a lighter. “Three of them. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, though last I heard it was Carol, Gamora, and Nebula. They control the threads of life. If I can get them here I can just…,” His sentence died as he ran his hands through his hair. What would he do if he got them here? It wasn’t like he could force their hands or even hurt them if he wanted to. Fate was drawn eons before he had even been conceived and nothing kept the sisters from doing their jobs.

I have to try, he thought, sitting down on the couch.

“Bucky, baby,” you cooed, sitting beside him and taking his hands in yours. “You’re not making any sense.” Rain had started to fall as he looked over at you, his heart lurching a bit at the worry that clouded your eyes. There was another option. It was a long shot, but no longer than demanding The Fates turn over your thread. Bucky drew in a deep breath before he spoke.

“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” he started, squeezing your hands gently. “All this, it’s about my life from…before.”

“Baby, I’ve told you before we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t-“ He held up a hand to stop you and shook his head.

“No, I have to tell you,” he said, waiting for your nod before he continued. “It’s not just my life from before. It’s yours too. Ours together.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “We didn’t have a life together until a year ago?” Bucky ran his hands over his face and steeled himself for what was to come. It was now or never.

“We did. You just don’t remember,” he said, picking up the book from the table as he spoke. “My real name…is Eros. I was born on Mount Olympus, the son of Aphrodite and Ares. For millennia, I’ve been worshipped as the god of love. Most people nowadays call me Cupid.”

“C-Cupid?” you replied, arching an eyebrow. “Really?” He winced slightly at the skepticism in your voice but nodded, flipping through the book to find the picture he wanted.

“If it’s any consolation, I hate the nickname,” he replied.

“What is this really?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of you. “I know you’re not Cupid, Bucky, Just tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” he said gently. “You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. Plenty of people stopped believing in us after Mary gave birth but that doesn’t make us any less real.”

“Bucky, come on,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re talking about mythology here.”

“Mythology that was written about us,” he urged. “About me and…my wife.” Your face fell at his words and your arms dropped to your sides.

“You’re MARRIED?” you shouted, earning a shudder of fear from Bucky. “Is that who that redhead is? Is she your wife?”

“I was married,” he explained, showing you the page he’d found in the book. “A long time ago. To you.” Still fuming, you looked down at the page. The photo was of an etching at the temple of Aphrodite. It told the story of Eros and Psyche and their doomed love, and you pulled the book closer to you to inspect it. The faces of the gods looked too familiar to you. A winged man hanging out of the sky had his arms around a woman that stretched up to the heavens for him. His face was the same one that sat on the couch across from you. Her face was the one you saw in the mirror every morning. It was all too exact to be a coincidence, but it had to be. The other explanation was too ludicrous.

“This…this is…,” you stammered, your eyes still glued to the page. It couldn’t be. You couldn’t be…

“It’s us,” Bucky finished for you, his tone gentle. “You don’t remember but it’s us.” Shaking your head, you slammed the book shut and tossed it on the table.

“Look, James,” you said, making him flinch as you stood and grabbed your purse. “I don’t know what all this is about but I’m not gonna sit around and listen to it. There’s something you don’t want to tell me and that’s fine, but this is insane. I’m going to stay with a friend for a few days. Call me once you’ve figured all this out.” Your hand was on the door when Bucky vaulted over the back of the couch and grabbed it.

“I’m telling the truth!” he cried, pulling up his left sleeve to reveal the field of scars that covered it. “Haven’t you ever wondered about these? Why all the marks are the exact same shape? Each heart represents a true love that I abandoned.” You crossed your arms again and stepped back, your eyes flitting over the exposed limb. Bucky rarely uncovered his arm in the light. He wrapped it around you during countless nights when you were too spent to bother with clothes, but he would always dress quickly in the morning.

“I thought you were the god of love,” you challenged, your tone almost mocking. “Why would you abandon that much true love?”

“Because I lost you!” he yelled, making you jump. “I first met you over 800 years ago and I fell in love with you then just as I have now. Back then, you were Psyche and you were mortal, just like you are now. We had only been married a few years when…when your time came. I tried everything I could to save you but I couldn’t. Every mortal has a time and yours had come. After, I renounced Olympus and my job. I couldn’t watch others fall in love when I had lost mine. Then I met you again last year and I found out you’d completed your cycle in the Underworld and been reincarnated. I finally have you back, baby, and I’m not losing you again.” You listened quietly, chewing on your lip as he told his tale. After a minute that felt like a decade, you finally spoke.

“You really believe all this, don’t you?” you asked quietly. “Jesus, baby. This is insane.”

“No, it’s not!” he insisted. “That redhead we saw today? On Earth she goes by Natasha but back home, she’s Hades.”

“That five-foot-tall woman is the god of death?” you scoffed.

“Goddess of the dead,” he corrected, taking a step forward. “That’s not important. The only way for mortals to see her is if they’re close to her realm.”

“Close to her realm meaning dying?” you chuckled, tossing up your hands. “You know, for a chick on the brink of death, I feel stellar.”

“The Fates have your thread!” he urged, tears in his eyes. “Baby, I know how this sounds-“

“No, I don’t think you do,” you interrupted, your voice riddled with anger. “My boyfriend, the man I love and live with, sees some ex or something on our anniversary and gets so freaked out that he concocts this bullshit story about me being the reincarnated wife to a Greek god, all so, I’m guessing here, we can skip town until his ex moves on. Sound about right?” Your fists were balled and your chest was heaving, making Bucky take a step back. He’d never seen you this angry, in all your lifetimes. There had to be a way to make you remember. If you could remember your old life then maybe the two of you could figure something out together. Suddenly, he had an idea that he couldn’t believe took him so long to come up with.

“I can prove it,” he said quickly. Your head cocked to the side at his words, but your anger seemed to ebb just a bit.

“Oh, you can?” you asked sarcastically. “Sure, let’s see your proof. You got a bow and arrow tucked away here somewhere?” A soft smirk tugged at his lips as Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you. The sound of your protest was muffled by the sound of his wings flapping quickly, and in an instant, the two of you stood on the sidewalk outside of your building.

“Something like that,” he said softly, holding you close. Rain dotted your face as Bucky watched the color drain from it. Your eyes darted around and your breathing picked up as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

“Wh-…I…we…how?” you stammered, spinning slowly to look out into the street.

“Perk of the job,” he replied softly. “Do you believe me now?” Your breath was still coming in pants as he spoke and you grabbed his shirt tight. Bucky pulled you close, scared you might pass out in the street.

“This…this can’t…,” you mumbled. “I can’t….no.”

“Baby,” Bucky whispered, cupping your face gently and lifting your eyes to his. “Breathe. Everything is going to be ok, but we have to go. We’re gonna summon the sisters and make them give us your thread. Trust me.” Tears mixed with the rain on your face as you looked up at him, terror drawn over your brow. He leaned in to kiss your forehead gently, but you pulled back.

“St-Stay away from me,” you whispered, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

“A-Angel,” he said, his heart aching. He stepped forward but you backed away again, shaking your head. It was only then he understood the fear in your eyes. You weren’t afraid of The Fates or Hades or even death. You were afraid of him.

“I mean it,” you said a little louder, taking another step back. “Don’t come near me.” You stumbled slowly back toward the curb as Bucky followed, crying to match you.

“Baby, please,” he said with a sob. “Please just come back inside.”

“No!” you yelled, drawing the attention of several onlookers. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Before he could plead any more, you turned and took off down the sidewalk. Bucky called your name and chased after you, ducking and weaving through the crowd. His eyes stayed on you as you tossed fearful glances over your shoulder, trying to lose him. He lost sight of you for a fraction of a second, regaining it just as you jumped off the curb to cross the street.

“Baby!” he screamed, racing toward you. He shoved people out of his way, desperate to make it to you before the car he knew you didn’t see.

The blaring of a car horn. The smell of burning tires on asphalt. A flash of red hair. A bloodcurdling scream. And then, all was quiet.

You felt warm. Warmer than you should be considering you were just standing in the rain. All the sounds of the city, including Bucky’s scream of your name, had faded into nothing more than a faint hum, trilling in your ears. Blinking open your eyes, you sat up slowly and tried to make sense of the strange place you’d found yourself in.

Everything around you was stark white; the floor, the walls, the ceiling. You couldn’t even be sure they were walls. They were all the exact same shade of white and blended together so seamlessly that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.

“She’s awake.”

The voice from behind you was feather-light and perfectly matched the aura of the room. You turned in her direction and found a man and a woman smiling at you. They watched as you climbed to your feet and looked nervously around the room. There was nothing there except the three of you and one silver chalice on a pedestal between the two of them. Whatever it held glowed a soft golden color and even though you’d never felt more confused, somehow, you were calm.

“Where am I?” you asked, looking back at them. “Who are you?” The man smirked softly and removed his sunglasses, tucking them into the breast pocket of his sharp grey suit.

“For now, you can call me Tony,” he said, nodding toward his companion. “And this is Winnifred.”

“Welcome, my dear,” she said with a smile. “We’ve been waiting quite some time for you.”

“Y-You have?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we have,” Tony replied. “You’ve been a prominent topic of discussion for, oh, about 800 years now.” Winnifred narrowed her eyes at him as you furrowed your brow.

“Don’t confuse the poor girl,” she chided. “She’s been through enough already.” Tony shook his head and picked up the chalice, taking a drink and keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, your voice thickening with tears. “What is this place? Where’s Bucky?”

“Bucky,” Winnifred said with a smile. “I expect he’s waiting for you to return.

“Return from where?” you asked, tears starting to roll down your face.

“Limbo,” Tony said matter-of-factly. “Sort of a cosmic waiting room between realms.” You rubbed your temples with your fingers, desperate to make all of this make sense.

“Why am I here?” you asked again, struggling through your tears. “I need to get back to Bucky. Please.”

“You’re here because a decision has been made about you,” Winnifred answered. Tony handed the chalice to her and she took a drink, both of them keeping their eyes on you.

“What kind of decision?” you asked, wiping your eyes. Winnifred smiled softly at you and something about it made you feel so safe. Some of the tension waned as she stepped forward and brushed some hair back from your forehead.

“You know, there was once a time I was incredibly jealous of you,” she said gently. “My son was so taken by your beauty when you met. He told anyone that would listen that you were the most beautiful creature in existence, and I hated it. I raged and railed and told him to recant it, but he refused. His love for you ran so deep he defied even me. He made me realize my pride could cost me my son, and I couldn’t live with that. Your love was so strong, it changed the will of the gods.”

“But I’ve never even met your son,” you protested. “Or you. I don’t know anything about the gods.” Winnifred and Tony both smirked at your confusion as the former nodded softly.

“Yes, you have, sweet girl,” she said simply. Tony smirked knowingly behind her as your eyes watered again.

“Will one of you please just give me a straight answer?” you begged.

“All will be revealed in time,” Winnifred said, offering you the chalice. “Drink.” You took it with shaking hands, looking inside. The liquid it held was almost like molten gold. It barely moved as you took the chalice but it continued to glow softly. Something about the stillness of the liquid unnerved you and you looked back up at the duo.

“Is it safe?” you asked quietly. Tony chuckled in response and folded his arms.

“You just watched both of us drink from it, didn’t you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Winnifred glared at him again as you swirled the liquid gently. He had a point. Both of them had drunk from the same chalice moments before and they were fine. After a comforting nod from Winnifred, you raised it to your lips and drank.

The veil of confusion lifted so suddenly and completely that you were amazed you didn’t realize what was going on sooner. It was all so obvious. Bucky was Eros, and you were Psyche. And here you were in Limbo with-

“Zeus,” you whispered. “Aphrodite.” Both of them smiled at you and nodded.

“Welcome back, Psyche,” Zeus said, pulling out his sunglasses. “Been a long time.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aphrodite smiled, taking the chalice and setting it back down. Panic set in and your breathing picked up as you started to remember how you’d gotten here. You remembered the rain and the car, and the ghost of Bucky’s scream echoed in your head.

“N-No,” you mumbled. “I can’t be here. Not again. I can’t leave him again. Please, you have to send me back.” Aphrodite placed her hands on your shoulders and shushed you gently.

“Shh, my darling,” she said softly. “Everything is alright.”

“No, it’s isn’t,” you protested. “I can’t leave him alone again. You didn’t see him when I found him, Aphrodite. He was so broken. This will destroy him. Zeus, please. You can talk to The Fates. They can’t be this cruel.” Zeus sighed and grabbed the chalice again, stepping forward and holding it out.

“Take a look and tell me what you see,” he said, exasperation thick in his voice. You looked down, confused, and gasped at what you saw. How did you not recognize it before?

“Ambrosia,” you breathed, earning a smile from the gods.

“Nectar of the gods,” Zeus confirmed, taking another drink and handing it back to you. “Aphrodite, refresh my memory. What happens when a mortal shares ambrosia with one of the twelve Olympians?” She rolled her eyes slightly at his theatrics and sighed.

“They become an immortal,” Aphrodite replied, causing your eyes to widen.

“Immortal?” you asked.

“Immortal,” Aphrodite confirmed. “The Twelve have had many conversations about you and my son since he abandoned Olympus. In the end, it was decided that robbing the god of love of his true love was unfair.” The chalice fell from your hands and clattered to the ground at her words. More tears formed in your eyes but this time for entirely different reasons.

“We can stay together?” you asked, your voice shaking. “I don’t have to lose him again?”

“If that’s what you want,” Zeus drawled, checking his watch. “Are we ready? Pepper’s waiting.’

“Give her a minute,” Aphrodite said, taking your hands. “The choice is yours. You can go back to Eros, or come with us and we’ll take you to Elysium. Your soul has completed its cycle so if you choose to rest, you can. It’s your decision.” You squeezed her hands tight and shook your head quickly.

“I want to go back,” you said. “I want to be with Eros. Please.” Aphrodite smiled and nodded gently, kissing the top of your head.

“Take care of him,” she said quietly. “He’s going to need it.” You nodded softly and looked between them.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, lots of feelings,” Zeus said, stepping between you and Aphrodite. “See ya!” He tapped your forehead once, and everything went black.

A steady beeping roused you from your sleep and you opened your eyes slowly. At first, you thought you were still in limbo because everything was so white. Things shifted into focus and you realized you were in a hospital room. Bucky was asleep in a chair beside your bed, his huge frame overfilling the small seat.

You felt different. Not bad or in pain, but different. Colors seemed sharper, sounds hit your ears more clearly, and even the smell of antiseptic filled the room differently. You assumed these were side-effects of your newfound immortality as you sat up slowly. Bucky stirred a bit but stayed asleep and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Bucky,” you said quietly. His eyes opened slowly and it took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. After a second, his brain caught up and he jumped out of the chair, rushing toward you.

“Angel,” he breathed, cupping your face gently. “Take it easy.”

“I’m ok,” you said, resting your hands over his. He shook his head and kissed your forehead softly.

“Baby, you’re hurt,” he said, his voice full of ache. “Let me go get your doctor.” You chuckled softly at how frantic he was, looking around for the call button.

“Eros,” you said, freezing him in his tracks. “I’m ok.” He looked over your face and trembled gently, tears dripping from his red-rimmed eyes.

“W-What did you just call me?” he asked, hoping with everything in him that he had heard you right. You smiled wider and leaned in to kiss him, squeezing his hands.

“I called you Eros,” you murmured against his lips. “I remember.” A broken sob left him as he wound his arms around you, holding you tight as he kissed you again. You hugged him back and squeezed your eyes shut, burying your face in his neck.

“I thought I was losing you again,” he whispered against your hair.

“You’re never losing me again, my love,” you answered, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m yours. Forever.” His face fell as he looked you over, shaking his head slowly.

“But I will,” he whimpered. “I’m gonna lose you one day and I can’t stop it. I can’t keep you safe from The Fates. Psyche I…I don’t know if I can survive it again.” He was crying in earnest now and it was enough to break your heart. You pulled back from him and held out the arm with your IV. Bucky wiped his eyes and watched in confusion as you pulled the needle from your arm. He gasped as both of you watched the wound the needle had made heal before your eyes. His eyes flitted from your arm to your face as he worked out what was happening.

“How?” he asked finally, his eyes wide.

“Zeus,” you answered, getting another smaller sob from him. “And Aphrodite. They took me to Limbo and Zeus offered me ambrosia.”

“But…if he gave you…that means…,” he stammered.

“It means I’m immortal,” you finished for him. “It means for the rest of forever, I’m never leaving you again.” That was Bucky’s breaking point. He jumped into the bed with you and hugged you tight to him, peppering your face with kisses. You giggled gently and held him close, returning the kisses where you could.

“I love you, Psyche,” he mumbled against your lips. “I love you so much and I swear I’m never letting you go.”

“I love you too, Eros,” you replied. “I’m never leaving you again.” He kissed you softly again and hugged you tight, only pulling back when you were both panting for air.

“Let’s go home,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. You took it and stood beside him, looking down at your hospital gown.

“We might be a little conspicuous walking around Brooklyn like this,” you commented. Bucky kissed you again and shook his head gently.

“Who are you talking to, angel?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. He pressed his lips to yours again as you held him close, the flap of his wings taking you home together at last.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #to love and be loved by me #eros and psyche #Greek Mythology #Sebastian Stan #marvel fanfic #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes angst #greek mythology AU #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

The Preacher’s Daughter [s.r.]

thanks to @golden-parker​ for helping me fix this moodboard

Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and the team are on the run. When they arrive at a safehouse back in the states they meet you and your father. Steve is drawn to you and has to fight with himself to heed your father’s wishes. 

Word Count: 8.2k (LOL WHOOPS)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: SO much angst. This is smut adjacent. Smut lite. A solid PG-13 rating here on my Christian Minecraft Server. Also breif mentions of blood.

A/N: This is the closet to smut you’ll ever get from me so I hope y’all enjoy it. Mildly inspired by the song River by Bishop Briggs but it kinda got away from me if I’m honest. Big thanks to @golden-parker and @jamesbuckybarnes-anon for beta reading for me. Divider by @writeyourmindaway​. If you’d like to be added to my permanent taglist just send an ask!

The sun hung low in the sky, its last few rays splayed out above as it tried desperately to cling to the day. Soon, it would dip below the horizon, but the heat would linger well into the night, blanketing the air in a way it only could during southern summers. Steve fidgeted in his spot, his eyes flickering back and forth from the old farmhouse in front of them to the Quinjet hidden behind the tree line. Their exit from the safehouse in Stockholm had been abrupt, to say the least, and Steve was still on edge. Coming back stateside was a huge risk, which he’d told Sam and Natasha repeatedly, but in the end they all agreed it was the last place their pursuers would expect them to go. Sam seemed to be able to feel his tension and did his best to try and calm him down.

“It’s gonna be fine, Steve,” he said quietly. “This place was on the list Nat got from SHIELD. It’s safe.”

“How sure are we?” Steve asked. “I’d really love a good night’s sleep.”

“Nat seems pretty sure,” Sam replied. “She got the list directly from Fury. These are people he trusted. I think she said this guy’s a preacher or something? Should be good here for a little while.” Steve nodded once and shifted in his spot again. He was tired. He was tired of running between run-down safehouses and shitty roadside motels that looked like they could kick off their own horror movie franchise. He was tired of coded messages and missing Bucky and he just wanted something that would last. It seemed like ages before Natasha came back, the exhaustion that was settled deep in her bones made evident by her gait.

“We’re good,” she all but yawned. “Preacher’s got some spare rooms he’ll let us crash in. His daughter is coming to help with our stuff.”

“Daughter?” Steve asked, quirking a brow. “She good?”

“Preacher seems to think so,” Nat replied, gathering her things. “Fury wouldn’t have put them on the list if she wasn’t.” That was good enough for Steve’s sleep-deprived mind. He bit back a yawn and headed into the Quinjet to grab his gear. When he came back out there was someone standing with Sam and Nat, and when your eyes met it nearly knocked him on his ass.

You were wearing a simple white sundress, lightweight with silver buttons down the front and perfect for the heavy summer air. Your feet were bare, no doubt a habit from growing up with so much space to run around in, and you already had one of Natasha’s bags slung over your shoulder. When you met Steve’s gaze you flashed him a smile that lit up your face even in the failing light and he felt a tug on his heart that he hadn’t felt since the first time he met Bucky. He didn’t even realize you’d introduced yourself until Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

“O-oh, sorry,” he stammered, nodding once to you. “I’m Steve. Thanks for your help.” You giggled and offered your name again, and this time he made sure to pay attention.

“You’re all more than welcome here,” you said with another smile. “Daddy says if we aren’t willing to help Captain America then we aren’t much of anything.” A soft giggle left your lips and shook Steve to his very core. He stumbled a little as he trailed after you to the house, watching as you chatted with Nat. His eyes never left you as you led them inside and even though he was sure Sam noticed, he blessedly didn’t say anything. Steve nodded toward your father, reminding himself to offer his gratitude properly in the morning. Right now the only thing he could think about was a hot shower and a soft bed. And you.

You took the group upstairs, pointing out free rooms as you passed. Steve’s was saved for last.

“This is yours,” you said softly, playing with a loose thread on your dress. “It’s the best room in the house. When the sun comes up you get a great view of the willow tree on the river. It’s my favorite.” You offered him a soft smile that made his stomach flip and his cheeks flush.

“Th-Thank you,” he managed to stammer. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate all this.”

“We’re happy to help,” you replied, still giving him that heart-stopping smile. “I’ll let you get settled in. Good night, Captain.” As you turned to go Steve found himself slightly desperate to keep you close. He wanted to talk to you, to get to know you, and just be near you. Millions of words raced through his brain, but he only managed to get one out.

“Steve,” he blurted rather abruptly. You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him with a curious expression.

“Huh?”

“Y-You can just call me Steve…if you want.” That damn smile. It came back across your face and knocked the air right out of his lungs. He was sure he was about to burst when you finally said his name.

“Good night, Steve.”

Sunlight pricked Steve’s eyelids much earlier than he’d hoped for the next morning. Ever since he was a kid he could never stay asleep once the sun came up. It came in handy in the army but right now, buried in the first comfortable bed he’d laid in for months, he hated himself for it. He tossed the covers back and stretched his arms up over his head as he stood, fumbling in his bag for fresh clothes. The team would take the day to rest, and tomorrow they would come together to plan their next move. That was the routine they’d established a while ago. Take a day. Regroup. Make a plan. Normally, it made Steve antsy. Staying still made him feel vulnerable. He preferred to have Plan A, B, C, and D before he took a breath. Today, however, he felt different. For the first time in a long time, he felt excited. There was nothing to do and no plans to make but somewhere in this house was you. Steve couldn’t explain why he felt so drawn to you. He was desperate to be near you again; to hear you say his name and to see you smile the way you did. He dressed himself quickly, tossing his bag into the armchair in the corner and opened the door, only to find himself face-to-face with your father.

“O-Oh,” he stuttered, his steps faltering. “Good morning, sir.” The preacher looked up at him, his eyes holding a tiredness Steve recognized all too well. It was a war-torn weariness, born in the field of battle and nourished by the blood of fallen friends and the faceless enemies they’d been sworn to defeat. He wanted to ask about it. There were volumes of stories written in the lines on the preacher’s face, but Steve knew from experience not to bring it up.

“Mornin’,” the preacher grunted in return. A heavy feeling settled between them that Steve was sure had nothing to do with the already building humidity, and he shifted on his feet.

“We can’t thank you enough for taking us in,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If there’s anything we can do-“

“Stay away from my daughter,” the old man interrupted. Steve blinked in surprise and took a step back, stumbling slightly.

“I-I’m sorry?” he said befuddled. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do,” the preacher replied solemnly. “You know what it’s like for men like us. What we do to women like that. She’s sunshine and light and every good thing in this world. Only good thing I’ve ever done with my miserable life. But us? We’re grit and grime. The world’s already chewed us up and spit us out and when we touch someone as pure as that girl, they’re never the same. We’re broken men, so desperate to feel somethin’ that we grab the first good thing we find and hold on tight, hopin’ like hell their goodness is enough to fix us. But it never is, son. All that happens is we end up breakin’ them too. S’what happened to her mother and I’ll be God damned if I let that happen to her.” There was no anger or malice in his voice, but something about his calmness sent shivers up Steve’s spine. Before he had a chance to tell the preacher he wasn’t like that and he’d never treat a woman that way, his host turned away from him and hobbled down the hall. Steve watched him go, slightly dumbstruck, with a war raging in his mind. On the one hand, there was you. He’d felt something the moment he first saw you that he couldn’t explain. Something burned in his gut that drove him to want to be close to you. Your father was right when he’d described you as sunshine and light. That light, and the warmth that had flooded Steve when he first saw you, was something he was sure he’d never get enough of. He wanted to cling to you the way the sunset had been desperate to cling to the day when he’d arrived.

On the other hand, he had to consider the position he’d been put in. If he went against your father and kept after you he was sure the entire team would be put out, ending up back on that damn Quinjet and off to god knows what corner of the world again. The thought of being torn away from you like that hit him like a slap in the face. Not only would he never see you again, but he’d also be responsible for pulling Sam and Nat from somewhere they could actually be safe. The team deserved some kind of peace, if only for a short amount of time. Beyond that, there was the chance that you would want to go with him, and he could never put you in danger like that. This was no way to live, especially for you. With a heavy sigh, Steve closed his door and flopped back into the bed, determined to do whatever it took to keep you off his mind.

They ended up staying at the farmhouse for much longer than Steve planned. At first, it was only meant to be a few days while they recuperated from the Stockholm attack. Days turned into a week which turned into two and before Steve could blink they had been there for a month. After his run-in with your father, Steve had instructed the team to keep their distance as best they could. They had seemed a bit skeptical, but he’d offered up the excuse of not wanting to get in the way that seemed to appease them both. It was a working farm after all, and between you and your father and all the hands that worked with you, the idea of staying out of the way was easy enough. In theory. Keeping his head low and staying out of the way was Army 101. But in practice, it was near torture. You had this incredible ability to pop up wherever Steve went, flashing that smile and batting your eyes at him, and he never heard you coming. One minute he’d be alone and the next you’d be there, like a cat that had just surprised its prey. You always came with the most innocent of requests; heavy bales of hay that needed to be moved in the barn or large buckets of milk that needed to be loaded into the truck.

“Everyone is busy, and it needs to be done soon,” you’d say, sticking out your bottom lip in a way that made Steve want to sink his teeth into it. “Can you please help? Please?” He obliged every time, telling himself that helping with farm chores would keep them in good standing with your father. Truthfully, he just wanted any excuse he could find to be close to you. And something in him told him you knew it. He could see it in the way you watched him help you around the farm. You’d look up at him through your lashes and smirk while you toyed with the crucifix that always managed to find a home between your breasts. The way you looked at him made him made his face burn and his breath hitch but almost as soon as he met your gaze, it was over. Your sweet, innocent smile would reappear, and Steve would be left with whatever chore you’d asked for help with before him, and a burning feeling of desire in his chest.

At night, when he thought he could find solace between his sheets and breathy whimpers of your name, you only showed how strong your hold over him was. The willow tree on the river that you had mentioned on his first day, that his room happened to overlook, proved to be your favorite spot, just like you said. Steve could practically set his watch by the creak of the stairs at 10:30 every night that meant you were on your way out. He knew he shouldn’t look. He knew the swims you took under the willow weren’t meant for his eyes, but the sight of you dripping wet and bathed in moonlight drew him in like a moth to a flame. Every night he found himself waiting, his foot tapping against the floor until he heard that comforting creak on the staircase, and every night he told himself he wouldn’t look this time. The first splash of your body hitting the water always proved to be his undoing though, and he ended up sitting beside the window, attempting to hide his shame in the shadows.

A month had passed, and Steve found himself once again staring out his window into the night. He was waiting, his foot tapping against the floor as his ears searched for the sound of you coming down the stairs. He checked his watch and furrowed his brow. It was nearly 10:45 and he was growing restless. You were never late. At least you hadn’t been the entire time Steve had been on the farm. Were you sick? Or hurt? Had you finally caught him watching you and decided it was best to stop your moonlit swims? Shame flooded Steve’s chest at the thought. His mind raced as he played out what might happen next and how furious you and your father would be with him. He had already started planning his apology and retreat from your home when he heard a gentle knock at his door. For a second, he considered pretending he was asleep, but that idea was thrown out the window at the next sound.

“Steve?” came your voice, accompanied by another knock. “Are you in there?” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Steve scrambled to the door, tripping over the chest at the end of the bed as he did. He yanked open the door to find you there, beaming up at him. The smile took him by surprise. He was so sure you’d be angry with him yet here you were, bright-eyed as ever.

“H-Hi,” he managed, looking over you. “Is everything ok?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” you replied. “Did you fall?” Steve’s face burned red at your question. He didn’t think his clumsiness had been quite so loud.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Did you need help with something?” Your smile faltered a bit at his question, and you shifted in your spot.

“I was wondering,” you said, looking down and playing with your fingers. “Would you like to come for a walk with me? And maybe a swim?” Steve’s stomach fell and his mouth went dry. It reminded him of the time Bucky had taken him to Coney Island and forced him to ride the Cyclone. His mind screamed at him to say no. It warned him that nothing good could come from this and that going with you would only cause problems. He didn’t think he could trust himself around you, and the last thing he wanted was to put you in a position where you felt like you had to choose between him and your father. Despite all this, he found himself nodding and following you from the room, the familiar creak of the staircase somehow managing to calm his racing mind.

He walked behind you out into the humid night, his fingers twitching and longing to wrap around yours. There was a charge in the air between you, aided in part by the distant rumble of thunder. The storm was far enough away that Steve wasn’t concerned but close enough to fill the air with a heavy electricity. You walked beside him toward the willow, keeping your eyes down and your hands clasped in front of you. Steve could see you stealing glances at him because he was stealing them back at you and when you locked eyes with him both of you turned away with cheeks aflame. The tree towered over you as you approached and ran your fingers over the handing tendrils. They framed you like a curtain as you looked back over your shoulder at Steve, biting your lip nervously.

“Did I do something wrong?” you asked softly. Steve’s eyes widened as he looked up at you and shook his head.

“N-No! Of course not,” he half-shouted. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just…you don’t really talk to me,” you started, avoiding his gaze. “After that first night, I thought there might have been something. But now it feels like you don’t want anything to do with me. And if you don’t that’s ok, I just want to know one way or the other.” Steve’s heart jumped into his throat as he cursed himself. He thought that by staying away from you he was keeping you safe from him, but here he was causing you the exact pain he thought he was sparing you from. This time he did reach out, catching your hand in his and turning you gently to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing gently and savoring the feeling of your hand in his. “I thought this would be better. For both of us. The way I live now it’s…complicated. I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“Don’t you think I deserve a say in that?” you countered, causing Steve to stop in his tracks. How had he never considered in all of this that you might want him as much as he wanted you? You took his other hand in yours and laced your fingers together.

“I supposed you do,” he replied with a soft smirk. “I’m sorry, doll.” Heat flooded your cheeks at the pet name, and you giggled softly.

“I’ll forgive you on one condition,” you said, releasing his hand and trailing your fingers up his chest. His breath caught as he looked down at you, shivering gently under your touch.

“O-Oh? What’s that?” he asked, rubbing your arm gently. You took a step back and smiled brighter at him as you reached behind you to unzip your dress.

“Swim with me,” you said. Blood rushed in Steve’s ears as he watched you slip your dress off, leaving you standing in your bra and panties. Your crucifix hung in the same spot as always and try as he might, Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

“O-Ok,” he breathed, his hands shaking as he moved to pull off his shirt. He expected you to look away as he shed his clothes, but you didn’t. Your eyes scanned over his body as he stripped down to his boxers and he felt a small flash of self-consciousness in him.

“Enjoying the show?” he tried to joke, his cheeks burning. Still, your eyes drank him in as you nodded softly.

“Absolutely,” you said as you held out your hand again. “Come on. The water’s not getting any warmer.” Steve swallowed thickly as he took your hand and you led him into the water. It was much warmer than he expected, almost like a bath that had been drawn just for the two of you. Everything was out in the open and exposed but somehow Steve felt safe and secure with you. He followed you further and further until you were shoulder-deep in the water and you turned to face him again, shooting him another smile that sent him reeling. You were glowing. Stars reflected off the water’s surface and shone bright in your eyes as the moonlight sparkled on your skin. He recalled your father telling him you were sunshine but in this moment Steve realized he was wrong. You were moonlight and stardust with entire galaxies behind your eyes, and Steve found himself wanting nothing more than to get lost in them.

“I can see why you like this,” he said softly, behind his knees to bring himself level with you. You hummed softly and nodded, tilting your head up to the sky.

“Everything here is always so loud and busy. When I’m out here it’s the only time I feel like I have any quiet.” He nodded in agreement as he moved closer to you, watching your hands skim back and forth over the surface of the water.

“I know what you mean,” he said softly. “Everyone’s always expecting something from me. It’s nice to take a break from all that.” You closed the gap between you and reached out to trace your fingers along his arms. Steve shivered despite the heat of the night and the warm water, stepping closer still. Your hands ran up his arms gently before sliding slowly back down his chest.

“Steve?” Every time you said his name it set butterflies off in his stomach, and your fingers dancing along his chest did nothing to help.

“Yes, doll?” he replied. His hands seemed to reach out of their own accord, sliding down your sides and fitting themselves gently around your hips.

“Are you ever gonna kiss me?” Steve’s hands froze at your waist as yours traveled up, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw. This was the exact thing your father had told him not to do. His heart thudded so loudly in his chest he was sure you could hear it and your touch left goosebumps in its wake. He knew he was making a mistake but that didn’t stop him from drawing you closer. Promises be damned. He wanted you.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he whispered, leaning down so his lips were mere centimeters from yours. He watched as your eyes slipped closed and you nodded quickly.

“Please,” you breathed, sliding your hands behind his neck and into his hair. He took one more look at your chest rising and falling quickly with your crucifix nestled between your breasts before he leaned in to capture your lips with his.

You tasted like honeysuckle and maple sugar. Your lips were just as soft as Steve had imagined them to be. He kept kissing you slowly, pulling you as close to him as he could get you. Your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling another shiver from him. He could feel the smirk that played on your lips as he pressed his chest against yours. He never wanted this to end. Right now there was no running, no accords, no wondering which safehouses were really safe. All there was in this moment was your lips on his and your arms around him. The world could be ending for all he knew, and Steve didn’t care. He could have spent forever kissing you and he was sure it wouldn’t be enough time. Soft moans fell from your lips as your hands slid down his chest. His skin flamed under your touch and he squeezed your hips gently. He wanted more. He wanted you. To see you pleading and falling apart under him. A growl rumbled in his chest as he kissed you deeper, and he felt you shudder against him. Your fingers dug lightly into his chest and Steve knew he was at the edge of a decision. If he kept going he wouldn’t be able to stop. Your kiss was intoxicating and every second he spent with his lips on yours he could feel his self-control slipping. But he couldn’t. Not here. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Steve pulled his lips away and rested his forehead against yours. Air flooded back into his lungs and he realized just then how bad they had burned for it a second before.

“Doll,” he panted softly, keeping you close. “You keep things up you’re gonna make me a sinner.” You smiled and kissed him softly again.

“Maybe that’s what I want, Captain,” you smirked, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. Steve groaned softly and brought his hands up to cup your face, pulling you back gently to look you over. Your cheeks were flushed and your lips were swollen and Steve was positive he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

“Oh, babygirl,” Steve mumbled softly, brushing his thumbs along your cheeks. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You giggled softly and smiled up at him.

“We should get inside,” you said, still running your fingers along his chest. He groaned softly and leaned in to kiss you again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me darlin’,” he said. “Let’s go.” You slid your hands along his arms and took his hands in yours, squeezing softly. He led you from the water and gathered your clothes, kissing you one more time before getting dressed. The two of you made your way back toward the house, giggling and stealing kisses as you went. Your wet clothes clung to you, sending shivers through you both. Steve felt lighter than he had in ages. He was laughing for the first time in as long as he could remember as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed kisses to your cheeks. The sound of your laughter filled the air as you held him close, stealing more kisses.

“Shhh, Steve,” you giggled, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “We have to be quiet or we’ll wake up Daddy.” His heart froze in his chest at the mention of your father. He felt like he’d been doused in ice-cold water as he looked up at the house. It towered over him, more menacing than it has seemed when you left, and he could see the light on in your father’s window. The curtains were drawn but he still felt like someone was watching him. Beside him you stiffened, seeming to sense the shift in his mood. You followed his gaze up to the house and reached up to cup his face, turning it gently to face you.

“Hey,” you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “It’s ok. Everything is going to be ok. I promise.” Steve smiled and took your wrist in his hand. He turned to place a gentle kiss to your palm, closing his eyes.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” You smiled softly and nodded, leading Steve around to the back of the house and sneaking in through the back door. You both climbed the stairs quietly, sidestepping the ones that creaked so as to not wake anyone. Steve couldn’t help but rake his eyes over you, hypnotized by the way your dress clung to your wet skin. He thought about peeling it off of you, along with everything that was underneath it. He thought about taking you apart piece by piece and seeing you writhing and whimpering underneath him. Suddenly and without warning, your father’s words played again in his head, filling him with unease.

We’re broken men, so desperate to feel somethin’ that we grab the first good thing we find and hold on tight, hopin’ like hell their goodness is enough to fix us. But it never is, son. All that happens is we end up breakin’ them too.

His steps faltered as you reached your door and turned to look at him, your brow furrowed. A shadow of hurt and confusion passed over your face.

“Steve?” you asked as your face fell. “Is everything ok?” Steve’s chest tightened as he swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Y-Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, offering you a soft smile. “I just think maybe I should say good night.” His heart lurched as the hurt spread fully across your face and he wanted more than anything to pull his words back and swallow them.

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Sure. I understand.” You took a step back and reached for your doorknob and Steve could see the reflection of tears already forming in your eyes.

“No, baby it’s not like that,” he said, moving to cup your face in his hands. “I just meant…I don’t want to rush into anything. We have time. I’m not going anywhere, ok?” He brushed his thumbs along your cheeks and waited for the smile to break before he let out the breath he was holding.

“Ok,” you said, reaching up to rub his arms gently. “But you have to kiss me goodnight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips to yours again.

Raindrops tapped against Steve’s window the next morning, pulling him from dreams about your lips on his and his hands on your skin. The ghost of the smile he’d fallen asleep with still played on his lips as he stood up to get dressed. The storm he’d heard the night before had finally found the house and thunder rumbled in the sky. It was Saturday which meant you’d be up already and on your way into town to get groceries. He had a few hours to kill before you’d be back and a host of thoughts banging around inside his skull. He grabbed his tablet and decided to head out into the barn. Your father would no doubt be in the house with weather like this and Steve definitely didn’t want to see him. Not yet anyway. The barn was his favorite spot on the farm. Well, second favorite now. On rainy days like this it was quiet and warm, the perfect spot for him to hide and think.

Steve made his way downstairs and darted out through the rain, sliding the heavy barn door closed behind him. Once he was inside he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Fresh hay had been laid down by one of the farmhands this morning and its scent mixed with the heavy one of the wet earth that wafted in through the open window. It filled Steve with calm as he climbed up into the loft. He found a spot near enough to a window that he could hear the rain but far enough away that he wouldn’t get wet and sat down, unlocking his tablet. He flipped through some of the files absently and let his mind wander.

Conflicted was an understatement. He didn’t know what to do about you. From the first moment he’d met you he knew there was something about you. Maybe it had something to do with you being the innocent preacher’s daughter. Maybe it was being on the run without someone warm in bed beside him for so long. He shook his head softly and flipped to another file. He knew it was more than loneliness that caused you to drive him absolutely crazy. Especially after last night. Now, more than ever, Steve wanted to know everything there was to know about you. He wanted your laughter in his ear and your soft touches against his face. Even more than that, he wanted you tangled in his sheets at night and wrapped in his arms as you slept. He could ask you to run away with him, he supposed. After all, once your father found out Steve had broken his only rule they would all be forced to leave.

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head. He couldn’t do that to you. If he took you with him, he would be doing exactly what your father warned him about. Life with him was a life on the run. The second he’d entered your home you and your father had become accessories to the laundry list of crimes the team had committed. Harboring a fugitive was hardly an ideal way to start a relationship. Steve had always prided himself on being this stalwart and true hero and now here he was, a breath away from pulling you into his disaster of a life. His mind was still buzzing when he flipped to a new screen on the tablet. He had somehow ended up in the files Natasha had dumped after Project Insight had gone down in flames and something familiar caught his eye.

The picture on the screen was in black and white, but it showed a house that Steve recognized. He tilted his head and brought the screen closer. A pit formed in his stomach as he took in the shutters, the door, and the tree in the front yard. It was your house. He was sure of it. He could picture you on the porch calling out for him to help you with the chores. Steve’s brow furrowed as he flipped to the next picture which showed the location of your home on a map with a small label beside it.

HYDRA Operative #31074. Status: Retired; Under protective custody. Threat level: Minimal

It felt like someone had taken Steve’s lungs and forcibly squeezed all the air from them. The tablet shook in his hands as he read the words over and over. This couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Fury wouldn’t have added a HYDRA operative to the small list of safehouses he’d managed to put together for Natasha. Would he? Tentatively, he scrolled further, looking for answers. The next screen showed an email sent from a name he didn’t recognize to Jasper Sitwell.

J-

Fury has been eliminated but the asset is compromised. Not sure Insight will succeed. Requesting immediate extraction with protection to farm.

-X

Steve still felt sick to his stomach as he looked down to Sitwell’s reply.

Understood. Extraction at 0700 tomorrow. See attached photo for approved protection detail. Cover instructions to be provided by detail. Reconvene in 3 months.

There was a file attached to Sitwell’s response and as much as he didn’t want to, Steve knew he had to open it. He understood little of what the emails referred to, but he knew the asset they were referring to was Bucky and his failed attempt on Fury’s life. His hands were still shaking and his head spinning as he reached up and tapped on the icon. The second the file opened and he saw your face, he threw the tablet aside and stormed from the barn.

That image would haunt Steve for the rest of his life. Seeing you in tac gear with a gun drawn and blood streaming down your face was more than he could bear. How could this be happening? He’d woken up this morning thinking he was falling in love with you, and now everything was falling apart faster than he could even think. You were HYDRA. Both of you were. And he’d let his team walk right into your house.

He barely noticed the rain against his face as he sprinted back to the house and yanked open the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges. Steve needed answers and since he knew you wouldn’t be back yet, your father was his next best source. He scoffed to himself at the thought. Your father. Clearly, that had been the first of who knows how many lies you’d told him. He wasn’t even sure he knew your real name at this point. For all he knew this had been some elaborate plan to take him out. And he’d let you in. What a fucking idiot he’d been.

Steve’s stomping footsteps echoed throughout the empty house as he searched for the false preacher. The living room, the kitchen, and the dining room were all empty, but he could smell cigar smoke coming from somewhere in the house. He took the stairs two at a time and made for the office at the end of the front hall. They had all been told on their first day that the office belonged to your father and he asked that none of you go in, but as Steve got closer the smell of smoke got stronger and stronger and he didn’t care to cater to a liar’s request. Once his hand was on the doorknob he registered the sound of movement from inside the room. With a deep breath, Steve tugged open the door.

The old man sat behind his desk, a fat cigar sticking out of his mouth. He took a long drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke as Steve looked around and took in the room. Every inch of the walls and every shelf that was hung was covered with newspaper clippings, and most of them were about Steve. Some of them were from the ‘40s, celebrating his victories and losses overseas, and others were from after he was found in the ice. His eyes found words from the battle of New York and the bombing in Vienna before stopping on the man behind the desk.

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” the old man said, taking another drag. “For her sake, I was hopin’ you wouldn’t.” Steve was slightly taken aback by the calmness in his voice. It was the same calm he had exhibited when he’d warned Steve to stay away from you. He’d entered the room prepared for a fight, but it became quickly apparent he wasn’t getting one.

“You’re not even gonna deny it?” Steve demanded, balling his fists.

“What’s the use?” the preacher replied with a shrug. “S’clear you know. I’d just be wastin’ both our time.”

“Fury trusted you,” Steve hissed through gritted teeth. “We trusted you.”

“Cuz I never gave him or you a reason not to,” he said, finally looking into Steve’s eyes. “I’m not some great villain, Captain. I’m just a man. Like you. A man who made mistakes. I made a name for myself at SHIELD when I was approached by HYDRA. I tried to tell them no. But they had my family. So I traded information to keep them safe. In the end, it didn’t matter. HYDRA killed ‘em anyway. By then I was too deep to get out and had nothin’ left to lose. When I realized SHIELD was about to fall I was ready to put it to bed and Sitwell set this all up.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” Steve snapped. “You think you can make excuses for selling out your country and all will be forgiven? How many people died because you were in too deep?”

“S’not an excuse,” the preacher said. “Just an explanation. That girl out there had less of a choice than me. They pulled her into this as a kid and brainwashed her into thinkin’ she was doin’ good. She got sent here for me and even when everything fell apart and she could have gone back, she stayed. She’s been here this whole time to take care of me. And I can tell she loves you. Remember that before you write her off. Whatever her past might be she fell for you here and now.”

Stunned silence filled the air and Steve found himself fighting to maintain his anger. He expected a real confrontation and maybe even a physical one, but instead, he’d gotten a glimpse of the man behind the curtain. The façade had tumbled down and all that was left was the cold, hard truth staring back at Steve in the preacher’s eyes. Sadness and pity mixed with the rage that still burned in his gut.

“We’ll be gone by nightfall,” he said coldly, earning a sigh from the old man. He stood, his joints creaking as he did, and hobbled to the door.

“Can’t say I’m surprised by that,” he mumbled. “Might be best if you’re gone before she gets back.”

“Best for who?” Steve snapped, his eyes following the old man to the door. Thunder tumbled gently as he stood in the doorway and looked back at the captain. Steve once again saw the weariness in his eyes and it somehow looked ten times as heavy now that the veil of deception had lifted.

“For all of us,” he answered before turning to leave the room.

“Why did you tell me to stay away from her?” Steve asked quickly. “She’s not really your daughter, so why did you put so much into trying to keep us apart?” He sighed again and kept his eyes on the floor.

“She might not be my blood but she’s my girl,” he replied. “I knew if she fell for you it’d end up like this. I was tryin’ to spare you both.” With that, he left the office.

Steve stood rooted to the floorboards for several moments. Anger wailed in his chest as he listened to the rain beating against the window. The storm was picking up. The pain of finding out the truth about you hurt him more than any bullet hit or knife wound ever could. He felt like a fool. They had been on the run for so long, so far removed from society and human contact that Steve had stupidly been willing to run into the arms of the first person with a soft smile and some pretty words. A loud peal of thunder pulled Steve from his thoughts. He had to get out of this house. One more second here would be a second too long. He turned on his heel and marched from the office, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

The walk back to his room took eons. His breath was tight in his chest and the walls seemed like they were closing in on him. When he finally made it back he had every intention of throwing his clothes hastily in his bag and rushing Sam and Nat to do the same, but instead ,on instinct, he looked out the open window at the willow tree. Steve had left it open on purpose, hoping the rain would have cooled off the room. If it did, he couldn’t tell because the second he saw the long branches of the tree dipping in and out of the river his entire body flushed, and he was overcome with the memory of you standing there with that damn smile on your face. He remembered the way your skin felt under his hands and how perfectly your lips fit against his. They were so intense, and Steve became so lost in them, that he almost didn’t register the sound of your car door slamming shut.

“Daddy?” you called, breaking Steve from his trance. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch your death.” The curtains billowed in the wind as Steve listened. He forced himself to focus as your father told you everything. Even over the sound of the rain he could hear you drop your bags and whimper as you pleaded with your father, begging him to tell you it wasn’t true. It wasn’t until you started running toward the house that he moved. He grabbed his duffle and threw it on the bed. Your footsteps echoed on the stairs and you called his name as Steve began to roll his clothes and shove them in the bag. You appeared suddenly in his doorway, panting hard and staring at him with wide eyes. Even now, with all the anger he felt, Steve couldn’t help but think how beautiful you were. The rain had matted your hair to your face and your dress to your skin. It was the same white one you had worn the night he’d arrived, splattered with mud on the bottom from where you’d dropped your bags. Steve faltered for a moment when he saw the way your chest heaved but quickly turned back to his packing.

“Steve,” you breathed, your voice laced with desperation and longing. That was enough to stop him cold. His hands shook as he set his clothes down and looked up into your eyes. You looked different. Gone was the innocence you’d carried as the preacher’s daughter. Someone less trained probably wouldn’t have noticed the change in the way you held yourself or the fact that your eyes scanned the room more often than normal. But Steve did, and the instant he did he felt his heart shatter within his chest. He opened his mouth, ready to scream and fight, but you took a step forward.

“Don’t,” you begged, stopping him before he could start. “Don’t say it. If you say it then it’s real and all this falls apart. So, please Steve, for once in your life just shut your god damn mouth.” There were tears in your eyes. Steve hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of the things that had happened since he woke up. Maybe your tears were important. Maybe they meant that your father was right, and you really did love him. That didn’t matter now. There was no way he could trust you and he was still so mad that all he wanted to do was punch something. He cocked his head and tossed his clothes aside, walking over to you and pulling you into the room, slamming the door behind you. A small whimper escaped your lips as he pushed you against the wall and kissed you hard.

This was nothing like the kisses he’d given you the night before. When you were in the water his kisses had been soft and sweet, your lips rolling gently over each others. Now, with the truth exposed and your secrets known, they were hard and rough, all teeth and tongue. Steve caged your head with his arms, pressing his body against yours and pinning you to the wall. Your hands found his hair and you tugged gently as you kissed him back and fruitlessly fought him for dominance. He was Captain America, after all. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed, covering your body with his a second later.

Steve lost himself in you. Every ounce of anger and frustration he felt flowed through him like a river as his body ran over yours. Neither of you knew exactly how much time had passed in his bed but you didn’t care. Steve forgot everything that wasn’t you under him, your fingers laced with his over your head, or the breathy moans he pulled from you with every thrust of his hips. He could feel himself drowning in you, and part of him hoped that he would. By the time you both collapsed onto the bed, sweaty and sticking to the sheets, the storm had passed, and the moon was peeking through the window. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest and his breath came in pants as he looked down at you. Your legs were still tangled in his and your head rested on his chest as you closed your eyes. He could see bruises beginning to bloom all over your body; teeth marks on your shoulders, handprints on your hips, fingerprints on your neck. His hands shook slightly as he brushed some hair back from your face. For a moment he wondered what your father would say when he saw you like this, and then he remembered. With your cover blown he had to assume this was the end for the farmhouse. His mind buzzed and brought him back down to earth as he absently traced patterns along your shoulder. He listened to your breathing, waiting to move until it had evened out. Slowly, he untangled himself from you and stood up. He moved quietly around the room, gathering his wildly discarded clothing and quickly redressing. Your back was to him as he picked up his duffel and stood with his hand on the doorknob, taking one last look at you. Moonlight flooded over your skin, making you almost seem to sparkle. To any outside observer, Steve would seem cruel right now, leaving you as you slept without a word. With a sigh, he opened the door.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered, stopping him dead. “I know you probably don’t believe me, but I never lied about how I feel for you. That was real.” The blood in his veins ran cold. He kept his eyes on you, half-expecting you to jump out of bed and beg him to stay. You didn’t though. Steve wasn’t sure it would have worked if you did. Taking one last breath Steve left the room, closing the door behind him. He could hear the sobs that started to pour from you as he made his way down the stairs and out the door.

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #the preacher's daughter #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers angst #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

You Were Good To Me [b.b./s.r]

Summary: What would have happened if Steve had never met Dr. Erskine and Bucky had gone to war alone?

Word Count: 2863

Pairing: Stucky

Warnings: Angst. So mcuh angst. Just...pain. Major character death, breif mentions of war and the realated violence. Also smoking?

A/N: I wish I weren’t like this sometimes. I really do. But at the same time no I don’t. I cried more wiritng this fic than any other I’ve ever written. This is sad as FUCK so be ready. Inspired by the song you were good to me by Chelsea Cutler and Jeremy Zucker which I wouldn’t have heard if Hann hadn’t made me a seven hour long playlist so technically this is @sunmoonandbucky‘s fault. Blame her. If you’d like to be added to my permanent taglist click here!

“Don’t do anything stupid til I get back.”

Those were the last words Bucky had spoken to Steve. Four long years ago, staring him down outside the recruitment center at the Stark Expo, Bucky had walked away from him and shipped off to war. They had exchanged letters when they could but getting mail at the front lines was often difficult and the 107th always went where the fighting was worst.

Between every letter he did get, Bucky panicked. What if some idiot recruiter was stupid enough to let Steve in? Without Bucky there to take care of him Steve wouldn’t last a day. He needed Bucky. And if he was honest, Bucky needed him. Each day that passed saw Bucky chewing his fingernails down to the nubs and chain-smoking with the other men in his outfit. When they weren’t being shot at, that is. Eventually, the fighting ended and the bullets stopped, and the men of the 107th were sent back home. Bucky’s leg bounced so hard the entire way back to New York he half thought he might bring the whole plane down.

The city looked exactly the same and somehow completely different all at once. The buildings and the memories were all the same, but something about the four years he’d spent overseas made Bucky feel like a stranger in the city he called home. He sat in the back of the car with his bag, counting all the different spots he’d saved Steve from getting a beating as they made their way into Brooklyn. It surprised him how hard his heart beat behind his ribs and how sweaty his palms were. Why was he so nervous to see Steve again? It was just Steve. The same Steve he’d known most of his life. Nothing to be nervous about.

“I know that look,” the driver said with a chuckle, pulling Bucky from his thoughts.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked, lifting his head.

“That nervous look you got,” he said. “I’ve seen it on plenty of boys coming back. You’re on your way to see a dame, aren’t ya?” The air caught in Bucky’s lungs at the man’s blunt words. A dame. Did he really look like that? Bucky had always thought he could keep his emotions pretty well hidden, but if this stranger he hadn’t spoken more than two words could pick up on something he had never even said out loud, how many others over the years had too?

“Somethin’ like that,” he answered, looking back out the window.

The rest of the ride was quiet, with Bucky watching the buildings slip past his window. Soon they were in the neighborhood, then on the street, then stopped in front of the building where Steve lived. Bucky thanked the driver and paid for his ride before stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Children were running up and down the block, their laughter echoing off the buildings that towered around them. A smile spread across Bucky’s face as he watched, remembering how he and Steve had done the same. It had been so long since he’d heard laughter like this. It calmed his nerves slightly, until he looked back up at the building and they flared again.

Steve hadn’t written to him in close to eight months. Bucky had sent letters whenever he could, nearly every week, but there wasn’t so much as a whisper back. For a while, he blamed it on the unreliable army postal services and the constant moving his unit had done. They were never in the same spot for more than a few days to a week at a time. But now, standing in the shadow of Steve’s building, he worried it might be something else. What if Steve had simply chosen not to write anymore? He wanted to be a soldier more than anything while Bucky had been drafted and forced to go against his will. He feared Steve might have come to resent him and just stopped.

“No,” Bucky murmured to himself, shaking his head. That was ridiculous. Steve had given his word, and he never broke that. They were always there for each other. Til the end of the line. Bucky glanced back up at the building and took a deep, steadying breath before heading for Steve’s door. Every step toward it felt like a mile and by the time he was standing in front of it his heart was racing so hard he thought he might faint. With shaking hands, he knocked, and a wide smile split his face as the door opened.

“Hey there pu-oh.” Bucky’s smile faltered as a pretty, dark-haired woman he didn’t recognize opened the door. She smiled softly and tilted her head a little, taking him in.

“Can I help you?” she asked sweetly, wiping some flour from her hands. He could smell bread baking from inside the apartment and the lighting he could see was soft and warm. Maybe she was the reason Steve hadn’t been writing to him. Somehow, that thought was worse than if he had just decided to stop. Bucky recovered from the initial shock and removed his hat, smiling brightly, if not slightly nervously, at her.

“Sorry to interrupt your day, ma’am,” he said. “But I’m looking for someone who’s supposed to live here. Do you know where I can find Steve Rogers?” As soon as Bucky said Steve’s name, her entire expression changed. Her smile fell and her hand tightened on the door. An involuntary shiver ran up Bucky’s spine.

“You’re James,” she said quietly, her voice laced with sadness.

“Yes, ma���am,” Bucky confirmed. “James Barnes. Is Steve here?” There was a panic in his voice that Bucky couldn’t control, and he was sure where it was coming from. He knew something was wrong, though. Something was very wrong.

“Wait right there,” she said, offering him a sad smile before slipping back into the apartment. There was something else in her voice that Bucky couldn’t quite place. If he didn’t know better, he would think it sounded like pity. After a moment, she returned to the door. In her hand was a small bundle of letters, held together by a long piece of twine tied in a delicate bow. Bucky recognized his own handwriting on the envelopes immediately and his heart jumped into his throat.

“I saved everything that came in,” she said gently, handing him the letters with a shaking hand. “In case you came back. I didn’t open anything. I promise.” Bucky’s hands shook to match hers as he took the bundle, brushing his fingers over the writing on the front. This didn’t make sense. Why would Steve move without telling him? This was the apartment he’d grown up in. He took care of his mother here when she was sick. He’d refused to move even after she died and Bucky offered him a place with him. What could have possibly caused him to go?

“Do you know where he is?” he asked, his voice thicker than he expected.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I just moved in a few months ago and some of them were already here.” Bucky nodded gently and looked up at her, trying his best to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Thank you for keeping all these,” he said. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” He put his hat back on and nodded once to her, but before he could turn to go, she reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“I hope you find him,” she said quietly, squeezing his arm gently. “My brother…he didn’t come back from over there. I hope Steve, wherever he is…I hope you get to come back to him.” Bucky stilled under her touch and blinked back tears.

“Me too.”

It didn’t take him long to find Steve. A well-placed wink at the secretary at the county clerk’s office got him the records he needed to find answers. How he wished it hadn’t. She had the same look of pity on her face as the woman in Steve’s apartment did when she returned with the file. The rest of the day after Bucky had read the documents she found was a blur. He didn’t remember going home, changing his clothes, or even stopping at the little flower shop he used to buy Sarah Rogers her favorite lilies from every Sunday. That wasn’t what he had this time. There was a small bouquet of violets clasped in his left hand that Bucky didn’t remember buying. He must have though, since he made it all the way across town without being chased by an angry florist. In his right hand, he held a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it in his handwriting. When had he written that? Bucky looked up at the intricate iron gate in front of him and matched the numbers to the ones in his hand. This was the place. The address didn’t mean much on its own but now that he was here, he knew it was the right place. Crumpling up the paper and fighting back tears, he took a deep breath and walked inside.

There wasn’t so much as a whisper of wind as Bucky walked the stone path, his legs shaking beneath him. The noises of the city seemed to stay behind the gates out of respect for what lay beyond. Bucky took the same turns he had the last time he had been here, hardly needing to think about it. He didn’t need this part written down. He knew where Steve would be.

Part of him hoped this was a mistake. Maybe the clerk had mixed up the records. Steve Rogers had to be a fairly common name. Maybe his Steve was somewhere else in Brooklyn, impatiently waiting for Bucky to come back. But, as Bucky reached the far corner of the quietest courtyard, he saw three nearly identical stones looking back at him. One of them was much newer than the other two, and it told him all he needed to know.

Steven Grant Rogers July 4, 1918-November 6, 1944

The pain that ripped through Bucky at having his worst fear confirmed was worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He fell to his knees in front of Steve’s grave and clutched his chest, finally letting his tears fall. He wanted to tear his heart out. It would hurt less. Steve was his responsibility. He’d promised Sarah he’d protect him and now he was planted in the ground beside her.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, turning his head to Sarah’s marker. “I didn’t want to leave him. They didn’t give me a choice.” More tears poured down his face as he stared at the stones, hoping somehow they would be able to convince him this wasn’t his fault. They didn’t, of course. They simply stared back at him, silent and undisturbed as he sobbed.

Bucky didn’t know how long he sat there crying. He kept thinking he must be running out of tears, but they just kept coming. This was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened like this. Steve was supposed to be safe here while Bucky went off to lay his life on the line. If anyone should have died, it should have been Bucky. It wasn’t fair. After what seemed like a lifetime, Bucky forced his eyes open and turned back to the stone in front of him. Seeing Steve’s name carved into the pristine white stone felt like a knife to the gut every time. Bucky doubted he’d ever get used to seeing it. Slowly, he moved forward until his fingertips brushed against the cold stone.

“Hey, punk,” he said quietly, his voice thick and raspy. He read the dates below Steve’s name again. November 6, 1944. Mid-autumn. Steve always went out that time of year without a coat on and Bucky always had to harass him to wear one.

“You’ll catch your death, Stevie.”

Steve always got sick so easily. Was that how it happened? Without Bucky to remind him Steve probably ran off to try and get recruited again and forgot it. If Bucky had just been there…

“I didn’t want to leave,” Bucky confessed, his hand still on the stone. “I would have given anything to stay here with you, Steve. But that damn letter came, and my number was up. I didn’t have a choice.” Tears were flowing once again, and Bucky’s voice cracked as he spoke. He dropped his eyes back to the ground and saw the flowers he’d bought on his way. With trembling hands, he picked them up and laid them on Steve’s headstone.

“I-I got these for you,” he stammered. “From that same place I used to get flowers for your ma. You always liked violets. I remember you telling me once, and you were always drawing them all over that old sketchbook you took everywhere with you. I hope you like them” Bucky didn’t know why he fell silent and waited for some kind of answer. He knew he wouldn’t get one. All there was in the cemetery were gravesites, Bucky’s tears, and the spirits that resided among the stones.

Silence pressed in around him as he sat on the grass. Bucky racked his brain to try and come up with something, anything to say. But what did you say to a grave? Any words that would fall from his lips would only join the other ghosts in the graveyard. What was he supposed to say at the final resting place of the most important person in his life?

“I never told you that I loved you,” Bucky breathed finally, whispering it even though he was the only person around. The weight of his secret fell from his chest as he let himself say the words he had been too scared to utter for so long. Bucky had known since he was sixteen years old that he was in love with Steve. The realization had first struck when the pair of them were packed inside a freezer truck headed home from Rockaway Beach. Steve hadn’t brought a coat, of course, and he shivered as he clung to Bucky’s side. In that moment, as he draped his leather jacket over Steve’s delicate frame, Bucky knew. And knowing terrified him. His heart said Steve was the love of his life, but he knew that if he confessed and Steve didn’t feel the same, he would lose him forever. So, he kept his mouth shut throughout the years, attempting to fill the void in his heart with women who seemed all too willing to fall into his bed. He hated himself for it, using them for a night and seeing the disgust and anger on their faces the next morning. But he knew if he stopped his own heartache would ruin him.

It all seemed so fooling now. Spending all those years silent about his feelings and lying to himself was such a waste. Looking back now it was so obvious that Steve had loved him too. Bucky remembered the pained look Steve always had when he took yet another girl home. Why hadn’t he just said something? They would have had to hide, to be sure, but they could have been happy together. They could have had a life.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky whimpered. “God, I’m so sorry. I should have told you all the way back in that truck and every single day since. You deserved to know how loved you were. And I love you so much, Stevie. I still do. I’m gonna love you every single day for the rest of my life.” A sob poured from his mouth as Bucky fell back to the ground, his right hand still clutching Steve’s headstone. He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t. As long as he held onto it, he felt like he was still somehow holding onto Steve.

“You were good to me,” he whispered against the grass. “You took care of me as much as I did for you. You deserved so much better than this. You deserved to be loved and cared for, with a big house out in the country where you could paint and lay out under the stars. I should have been able to give that to you. I should have been here to keep you safe.”

Dark clouds started to fill the sky as distant thunder rumbled, drawing Bucky’s eyes upward. Rain was on the way. Some fleeting instinct told him to get up and go home, but he didn’t want to. Home was dark and empty, and nothing but a reminder that Bucky had lost everything.

“I’m scared, Stevie,” he admitted to only the thunder. “I don’t want to be alone.”

It seemed like the storm was waiting for Bucky to admit his fear because as soon as he did, the skies opened, and the rain came. The drops came heavy and fast, a perfect match to the tears that fell from Bucky’s eyes. They painted Steve’s grave and turned the headstone dark, as Bucky and the sky wept together.

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#stucky #stucky fanfiction #stucky angst #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #you were good to me #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky fanfic #angst #major character death #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu #kore komposes

[awake-dearheart]

How To Slay A Dragon [ayo]

Summary: After Princess Aneka is captured by a dragon, Ayo, the most respected knight in the kingdom, will stop at nothing to bring her home safely.

Word Count: 4597

Pairing: Ayo x Aneka

Warnings: Minor mentions of blood, nothing too major this time!

A/N: Welcome to another installment of the Once Upon A Time Collection! Since some of y’all were so keen to ship Ayo with Bucky I felt the need to remind you of her actual, and very gay, love story. Obviously there have been some liberties taken here so it’s not just me reposting the entire comic, but this is honestly not too far off from what happened. I hope you guys like it! Divider by @firefly-graphics​. If you’d like to add yourself to my taglist click here!

Every muscle in Ayo’s legs burned and screamed at her as she forced them to go faster. Her lungs flamed, desperate for air, and her feet pounded against the grass. She couldn’t stop. Fear pushed her forward toward the castle. Fear that she might not make it in time. Fear that the monster might be following her. But mostly, fear for the hostage he’d taken.

The castle loomed before her, throwing its shadow across her path as Ayo raced forward. Some of the guards tossed her curious looks as she sprinted past them, making her way toward the throne room. The queen needed to know what had happened. She would know what to do. The doors to the throne room gave way quickly once Ayo threw her shoulder against them and she tumbled inside.

“The princess has been taken!” she cried, drawing gasps from the crowd. The people gathered in the throne room looked between one another, whispering behind their hands at the rudeness of the sudden interruption. All of them except Queen Ramonda. Ayo was quite certain nothing ever flustered her, and this was no exception. She stayed seated, perfectly still with her eyes locked on Ayo as the knight ran forward toward the throne. Ayo’s steps never faltered, despite the air of mild annoyance the queen displayed, until she reached the throne and fell into a kneel before it.

“Ayo,” the queen said sternly. “You’ve interrupted a quite important meeting. This had best be a dire situation.”

“It is, Your Majesty,” Ayo said, bowing her head. “Princess Aneka has been kidnapped.” More gasps, louder this time, filled the room and Prince T’Challa sprang to his feet.

“What do you mean she was kidnapped?” he snapped. “You were charged by your queen to protect her!”

“T’Challa, enough,” the queen said calmly, ending her son’s tirade before it could properly begin. “Ayo is clearly in distress, and I can’t get to the bottom of this if you’re shouting at her.”

“Yes, mother,” the prince said, bowing his head in embarrassment as he sat back down. Queen Ramonda waited for him to be seated before she turned back to Ayo.

“Even if he was out of line, my son is right,” she said sternly. “I chose you specifically to protect Princess Aneka. She came to us from a great distance as a potential match for Prince T’Challa. It was my hope she might one day be our queen. So, tell me, Ayo, why didn’t you protect her?” Ayo had to fight back the anger that rose in her chest at the queen’s words before she could answer.

“My Queen,” she said through gritted teeth. “I fought my hardest to keep the princess from being taken. I was overpowered.” Despite his mother’s previous warning, T’Challa scoffed loudly and shook his head.

“Overpowered? You?” he laughed. “You are the most decorated knight in the kingdom. You’ve bested even me at the sword. Who out there could overpower you?”

“The dragon!” Ayo screamed back, her resolve finally breaking. Her words fell over the crowd and blanketed them into a stunned silence. Rumors had spun for years about a dragon that plagued the northern forest, with some people going so far as to claim they had seen a great, green beast soaring through the skies at the base of the mountain. The queen had always dismissed them, telling her people there was nothing to fear. She told them all her soldiers had scoured every inch of the forest and found no evidence of a dragon. Until today, Ayo had believed her. But now, with the memory of Princess Aneka trapped behind the mass of green that had knocked Ayo flat on her back in an instant, she knew better.

“Preposterous,” Queen Ramonda said, breaking the spell of silence in the room. “There is no dragon. It’s merely a myth.”

“I saw the beast with my own eyes,” Ayo protested. “It came from behind us and took the princess right from my grip. It knocked me twenty yards in an instant. We must gather all our troops and go after it. We must get her back!”

“No.” The queen’s short response stopped Ayo’s heart for a second, and she balled her fists at her sides.

“Your Majesty?”

“I am not sending my soldiers on a wild goose chase through the northern forest,” she answered. “The way through the forest is treacherous enough and I don’t need to send them into danger just to have them tell me what I already know. They proved long ago there is no dragon. I see no reason to have them do it again.”

“But the princess!” Ayo shouted. “She’s still in there! If we do nothing, then we sentence her to death!”

“Watch your tone, Ayo,” the queen warned, her voice rising slightly. Struggling against her instincts, Ayo remained on her knee and bowed her head.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” she said softly. “I do not mean to overstep, but I was charged to protect Princess Aneka. All I’m asking is to be given the chance to do so.”

“You were indeed charged to protect her,” Queen Ramonda agreed. “Which is why at first light you will travel with the caravan to the border. You will meet Princess Aneka’s family there and you will explain to them that you got their daughter killed.” This time, Ayo did jump to her feet, fury and heartbreak painting her face. The crowd behind her reacted in kind, some of them shouting and calling for the queen to have mercy.

“My Queen!” Ayo yelled, her voice thick. “You can’t do this!” Ramonda glared down at Ayo, rising from her seat slowly. Even though she was a fairly small woman, the air she radiated filled the air and silenced the room almost immediately.

“You forget your place,” the queen seethed. “Be thankful I don’t strip you of your title as well. You will leave at first light. Dismissed.” Ayo’s jaw clenched as the queen stared at her, almost daring her to say the things that were running through her mind. Fighting back tears and forgoing the bow she should have offered, Ayo turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Ayo stomped through the palace grounds, not paying much attention to where she was going. Her anger guided her, leading her down hallways and around corners. More than once she had to apologize to stewards or handmaidens she collided with. How could the queen be so cold? Ayo knew that Aneka was still alive and there was still a chance to save her. Why wouldn’t the queen do something? And why had she dismissed Ayo’s account of the dragon so quickly? For years, Ayo had been one of the most trusted and revered knights in the kingdom. The queen should have some faith in her, shouldn’t she?

Before she knew it, Ayo found herself in the palace gardens. She stopped short when she reached the entrance, looking out over the sprawling fields. Flowers of every imaginable color bloomed along each path, filling the air with their delicate scents. The gardeners were hard at work, pruning back the overgrowth and pulling weeds, making sure every aspect of the grounds was absolutely perfect. One soft tear trailed down Ayo’s cheek as she remembered the last time she was here.

“Ayo, just the person I was looking for!”

Ayo turned and lowered herself into a bow as Queen Ramonda and Prince T’Challa approached.

“Your Majesty,” she said before turning to the prince. “Your Highness. To what do I owe the honor?”

“We have a visitor,” the queen replied, clasping her hands in front of her. “A princess from another kingdom that I’m hoping might make a suitable match for my son and convince him to settle down.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, mother,” T’Challa quipped, tossing Ayo a playful wink. Ayo’s brow furrowed in confusion, but the queen seemed not to notice and continued.

“The princess will need someone to act as her guide,” the queen explained further. “And also, to protect her while she is our guest. My son suggested that you may be willing to act as that guide.” Ayo bowed slightly again before looking back up at the royals.

“I would be honored, My Queen,” she said, earning a smirk from Prince T’Challa.

“Excellent!” the queen exclaimed, turning and motioning for someone. “Come, my dear. Come meet the knight that will act as your guide.”

Ayo had to stifle a gasp as the queen stepped aside, and the most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood before her. She wore a gown of deep blue that fluttered gently in the spring breeze, making the princess look as though she was floating forward from the sea. Her head wasn’t shaved like Ayo’s, but her hair was short and curled tightly against her scalp, and the setting sun bathed her skin in a golden glow that only added to her unimaginable beauty.

“Ayo, this is Princess Aneka,” the queen said. “Aneka, this is Ayo, one of the most well-respected knights in my kingdom. She will be the perfect guide and guardian to you during your time with us.” Aneka smiled and held out her hand to Ayo.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and the melody of her voice surrounded Ayo completely, setting off butterflies in her stomach. Never before had she been so utterly astounded by another person. Her mouth went dry, and her palms began to sweat as she took the princess’ hand and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I vow to protect you from all harm for as long as you might need me. My services, my sword, and if need be, my life, are pledged to you.” The princess smiled bashfully as Ayo released her hand and stood up. Her own cheeks burned, and she could only hope her bewilderment hadn’t been too obvious.

“Excellent,” the queen repeated, clapping her hands. “Princess, I shall leave you with your guide. Ayo, keep her safe.”

“Of course, My Queen,” she said, bowing once more. Prince T’Challa gave Ayo a smirk, like he knew something he shouldn’t, before he turned to follow his mother into the palace.

“It’s the smile that gives you away,” someone said, pulling Ayo from the comfort of her memory. She looked up from the bench she’d found herself on to see Princess Shuri, the queen’s daughter, walking toward her.

“Y-Your Highness,” Ayo stammered, standing up quickly. “Apologies. I didn’t see you there.” Shuri waved her off and sat down on the bench, looking up at Ayo expectantly until she retook her seat.

“The smile gives everyone away,” the princess continued. “When my brother thinks nobody is watching he’ll look at Lady Nakia with that same smile.”

“P-Princess?” Ayo asked, confused.

“Yes, the princess,” Shuri nodded. “The one you spoke of earlier. Princess Ankea. You love her, don’t you?” Princess Shuri dropped the words so nonchalantly, but their weight struck Ayo like the heavy blade of an enemy. She knew them to be true. She had since the first time she laid eyes on Aneka, but she’d never spoken them aloud before. Hearing someone else say it and realizing how poor of a job she’d done to hide it only cemented the feeling in Ayo’s heart.

“I do,” she finally admitted.

“Then go save her,” Shuri said, donning a mischievous smile. Startled by her words, Ayo glanced up at the young princess.

“I-I can’t,” she said quietly “The queen has forbidden it.”

“The queen said she would not send her soldiers,” Shuri clarified. “But you are not a soldier. You are a knight of the kingdom.” Ayo arched a brow and considered the young girl before her in confusion.

“You speak of treason so casually,” she said. “Why are you so quick to go against your mother?” The smile Shuri had been wearing finally broke, and she looked down, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Because my mother lied to you,” she said slowly. “She lied to all of us. She’s known about the dragon for years now but she’s too afraid to do anything.”

“What?!” Ayo cried, attracting the attention of a few nearby gardeners.

“Shh!” Shuri hissed, smiling and waving them off. “Do you want the entire kingdom to hear you?” Ayo relaxed herself and raised a hand to the gardeners, waiting for them to go back to work before turning back to the princess.

“Why won’t she do anything?” Ayo demanded. “If she knew of the threat all this time, why would she let it go unchecked?”

“She sent soldiers into the northern forest after the first reports,” Shuri explained. “Over a hundred of them. Only two returned. The rest were claimed by the dragon.” Ayo placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes widened as Princess Shuri told her tale. Nearly a hundred soldiers lost to the dragon already. Queen Ramonda knew about it all these years and did nothing.

“But why did she lie to us?” Ayo questioned. “Why not warn people of the dragon?”

“The northern forest is treacherous enough in its own right,” the princess answered. “She worried if she told everyone, people would flock there thinking they all knew how to slay a dragon. So, she decided to ignore it and hope people would stay away.”

Ayo stared off into the distance, trying to make sense of the information now swirling in her head. The queen kept the dragon from the people of her kingdom, leaving them to fend for themselves. There had been dozens of sightings over the years and just as many disappearances, and the palace was content to keep the truth hidden. Ayo clenched her fists, her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palms as a renewed anger flared through her.

“I’m getting her back,” she said finally, setting her jaw and rising to her feet. Shuri smiled once more and jumped up beside her.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” the princess said, reaching into her pocket and producing a small vial. “Here. You’ll need this.” Confused, Ayo took the vial and held it up to her eye. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand and filled with a bright green mixture that glowed softly.

“What is this?” Ayo asked, sloshing the liquid in the vial.

“It’s a potion,” Shuri replied. “It might not look like much but it’s strong enough to strip all the magic from any creature.”

“Since when are you a student of magic?” Ayo questioned.

“I’m a student of everything,” the princess said. “If you hit the dragon with this it will draw out all of its magic, leaving it defenseless.” Ayo looked back at the smiling princess and struggled to form the words she wanted to say. Shuri proved to be as perceptive as Ayo assumed her to be, and placed a hand on the knight’s shoulder.

“The caravan will leave at dawn,” she said quietly. “I suggest you leave before that.” Without another word the princess turned and exited the gardens, leaving Ayo with only her sword, the potion, and a fleeting glimmer of hope in her heart.

Dawn was just breaking over the trees when Ayo reached the edge of the northern forest. Mist rolled between the trees and birds called out to each other, pulling an involuntary shiver from deep within her. Ayo pulled her ruby-colored cloak tighter around her shoulders and started into the trees. Her love was somewhere in there. She didn’t know if Aneka was still alive, but she knew she wouldn’t stop until she found her. Ayo checked her pocket one last time, ensuring the potion Shuri had given her was still there, then took a deep breath and made her way into the daunting forest.

The trees were dense and the mist that flowed around Ayo’s ankles was thick and cold, but she still pressed on. She walked for what felt like hours upon hours, looking up every so often to check for help from the position of the sun, but she never found it. The canopy formed by the treetops was so thick it blocked out any light that tried to break through, lending to the ominous feeling the forest had earned. Still, Ayo continued, refusing to stop for even a moment. When branches or weeds blocked her path, she drew her sword and cut them away. More than once she jumped at the sounds of animals, weapon at the ready to defend herself from the dragon. All she managed to face, however, were a few deer, a fox, and one overly aggressive raccoon.

Ayo walked. And walked. And walked. But she never faltered. Her legs ached but she never so much as slowed her pace as she searched every inch of the forest she came upon. Aneka was in here somewhere, and Ayo was going to find her. No matter what. After some time, she came to a break in the tree line that held a small clearing. It butted up against the base of the mountain and when Ayo looked up to the sky, she found stars twinkling their greetings to her. Had an entire day really passed already? Her heart thudded in her chest as she looked around, attempting to get her bearings. It was then when Ayo noticed something odd.

It was quiet here. Her entire journey through the forest had been accompanied by the symphony of nature around her, but now, there was nothing. There was no snapping of twigs as rabbits darted from her path, no calling of birds from tree to tree, and certainly no soft bubbling of streams that cut through the forest. There was only silence. And it terrified Ayo more than anything she had yet encountered. She drew her sword as she turned again, inspecting the clearing again for anything that might help her. Nestled against the stone of the mountain, almost invisible in the darkness, she spotted a small cave.

“Aneka,” she breathed, walking quickly toward it. She had almost reached the cave’s entrance when…

ROAR!

Ayo dropped her sword and clapped her hands over her ears as the deafening roar pierced the air. It echoed off the mountainside, magnified by the contrasting silence it had interrupted. Suddenly, Ayo saw a flash of something green and she was knocked off her feet, flying across the clearing and slamming into a tree. The air was forced from her lungs by the impact of the hit and she fell to the ground, curling into herself and cradling her ribs. It must be the dragon. She forced herself to her feet and reached for her sword, only to remember she had dropped it when the beast made itself known. Another ear-splitting roar filled the air as Ayo steadied herself, turning to face the dragon.

Only there was no dragon. The monster that stood before Ayo, hulking and green and oozing with a palpable rage, was just a man. He stood easily eight feet tall and had hands and feet the size of boulders, but he was still a man. Ayo’s confusion stopped her for a moment as she met his eyes. He glared at her, smoke pouring from his nostrils as he roared again and charged.

He was fast. Ayo was faster. She rolled out of his way and ran for her sword, ignoring the cracking sound of the falling tree the monster had hit behind her. The beast roared again, and Ayo could hear him rounding to search for her. She dropped into a slide and scooped up her sword, spinning herself around just in time to slash at the gigantic, green palm coming toward her. A roar of pain came from the beast as he staggered back, shaking blood from his hand. Ayo leapt to her feet and darted to the other side of the clearing, raising her sword to face him. The beast roared at her, his rage seeming to make him grow larger. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the vial, staring at it as the beast lumbered forward.

“Shuri, this better work,” Ayo murmured, watching the beast make its way toward her. He traversed the clearing quickly, and before Ayo was within his reach, she pulled her arm back and hurled the vial with all her strength. It struck the monster square in the chest, and as soon as the glass shattered a thick white smoke began to swirl, enveloping the creature. This was her shot. Ayo ran forward, sword raised high above her head. With a cry of rage and power on her lips, Ayo brought the sword down with all her might. The smoke around the beast began to dissipate and at the last second, Ayo saw what was left behind. Her eyes widened and she tightened every muscle in her arms, using all of her control to stop her sword at the last second.

The silence had resumed its hold on the clearing once again, broken only by the strained breathing of Ayo at the center. She stood, stock-still with her hands wrapped tightly around her sword as she stared at the man below her. At the other end of the sword, mere inches from the sharpened tip, sat a terrified-looking, brunette man. He trembled and fell to the ground, holding his hands up in surrender.

“P-Please,” he whimpered. “Please, don’t kill me.” Ayo slowly cocked her head in confusion and lowered her sword. The man sat where the beast had just been, but he was at least two feet shorter and nowhere near as wide. Standing upright, Ayo sheathed her sword and looked down at him.

“Who are you?” she demanded, looming over him.

“Bruce,” he said softly. “Bruce Banner. Please, I swear I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m sure you won’t blame me if I find that hard to believe,” Ayo scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Bruce nodded quickly and stood up, clutching his now oversized trousers around him.

“I know,” he agreed. “But that…thing. It wasn’t me. I was cursed, years ago, by a witch. She turned me into that monster and left me in the forest. I never wanted to hurt anybody. I just want to go home.” Ayo considered his words carefully, looking him up and down as he trembled in fear. Something glinted beside him, and she turned to see a shard of the glass vial stuck on the ground. Shuri’s potion had done exactly what she promised. The witch’s curse had been drained away, taking the monster and leaving the man behind. Slowly, Ayo kneeled in front of him, keeping her eyes locked on his.

“Where is the princess?” she asked slowly, an unspoken threat dripping from the question.

“The girl?” Bruce asked. “From yesterday?”

“The princess!” Ayo yelled, causing him to flinch. “The one you stole from me. Where is she?” Bruce shrank from her and lowered his head.

“In the cave!” he cried in response. “She’s in the cave!”

“Is she…,” Ayo began, afraid to ask what she needed to. “Did you…?”

“She’s fine,” Bruce assured her. “Maybe a few bruises and she’s probably scared. But she’s alive.” Ayo sighed in relief and jumped up, racing toward the cave once more.

“Hey!” Bruce called, stopping Ayo in her tracks. With one hand on the hilt of her sword, she turned to face him again.

“What?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Th-Thank you,” Bruce stuttered. “You saved me.” It wasn’t until that moment that Ayo registered the fear rolling off Bruce, replacing the rage from the monster he had been. She released her sword and relaxed, looking him up and down.

“You’re welcome,” she said, speaking more gently than before. “If you’d like, my kingdom has many impressive students of magic. They might be able to find this witch of yours.”

“Oh, no,” Bruce said, shaking his head quickly. “I’d like to put as much space between me and her as possible. Besides, I have a family to get back to.” Ayo nodded once as Bruce dusted himself off and smiled at her.

“Good luck, Bruce,” she said, offering him a soft smile in return.

“You too, Ayo,” he said, turning to leave. Ayo’s head tilted in confusion once more, and she called after him again.

“How do you know my name?” she yelled. Bruce smiled as he turned back to face her, his eyes twinkling to match the stars above them.

“She talked about you,” he replied. “Kept telling me her Ayo would come to rescue her. Go show her she was right.” He waved gently to her and turned again, disappearing into the forest. Ayo watched him go with a strange feeling in her stomach before she turned back and raced into the cave.

“Aneka!” she called, her voice echoing around in the dark. “Aneka, where are you?”

“Ayo?” her reply came, deeper within the cave. “I hear you! Where are you?” Ayo made her way forward carefully, keeping one hand on the cave wall and glancing back at the entrance to keep herself oriented. Suddenly, she collided with something and fell hard onto the ground. She sat up quickly, her hand on her sword once again, only to find herself face to face with her princess.

“Aneka,” she whispered in relief, reaching out to touch her cheek gently. Aneka smiled back at her softly and leaned into her touch before helping the knight to her feet.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she said. “The beast never stood a chance against you.”

“He wasn’t exactly a beast,” Ayo said, looking her beloved over for any obvious injuries. Aneka chuckled and brushed her off, taking her hands and squeezing tight.

“What do you mean?” the princess asked. “It’s half the size of the palace!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ayo said, shaking her head and letting go of her hands to cup Aneka’s face gently. “All that matters is that you’re safe now. And I’m going to take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Aneka said quietly. “Ayo, I want to stay here. With you.” Ayo’s face burned and her stomach fluttered wildly at the princess’ words, and she furrowed her brow slightly.

“But you came here for Prince T’Challa,” she said, defeat laced in her tone. “Queen Ramonda had hoped you might be our next queen.”

“Prince T’Challa knows I have no interest in men,” Aneka said with a coy smile. “That’s why he recommended you to be my guide. I saw you when I came into the palace, and I asked him to help me get to know you better. And I’m glad he agreed because if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.” Ayo thought her heart might burst from her chest, it was pounding so hard. She replaced her hands on Aneka’s face, brushing her thumbs gently across her cheeks.

“I love you, Aneka,” she said gently. “And I meant the words I spoke to you the day we met. My sword, my life, and now my heart are yours, for as long as you may wish.”

“What if I wish for forever?” she asked, a mixture of excitement and hope in her voice.

“Then for forever, my love,” Ayo replied, pulling the princess closer. As the first lights of dawn painted the mouth of the cave behind them, Ayo finally held her love in her arms, and at long last pressed her lips to hers.

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[awake-dearheart]

If The Night Is Burning I Will Cover My Eyes [s.r.]

edit by @nix-akimbo who is amazing and if you’re not following her you should be

Summary: Steve Rogers has always been the one to fight for what’s right, no matter what. So what happens when the cost of being on the losing side becomes too much for him to bear?

Word Count: 7245

Warnings: Mentions of violence, gunfire, murder, blood, fire, just...angst, drinking, spoilers for Infinity War and Endgame but like...it’s been a minute y’all

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for ages and I’m so excited for it to finally be here. There is no reader in this one, or anothr character Steve is explicitly shipped with. This is a pure Steve story. I hope you guys like it. Inspired by the song I See Fire by Ed Sheeran. If you’d like to join my taglist, click here!

“Oh, God.”

They’d lost. Steve couldn’t believe they’d lost. When T’Challa had agreed to let them shelter Vision within his borders, Steve was sure that was the edge that would keep their heads above water. The idea of actually losing to this madman from space had never even crossed his mind.

And yet, they had.

Steve sat among the ashes of his friends, with Vision’s crumpled body at his feet, crushed under the overwhelming weight of their loss. Of his failure.

“W-What do we do?” Natasha asked, her breath ragged. “Steve? What do we do now?” He heard her question, but he didn’t answer. His brain couldn’t process or help him to form words anymore. Everything around him was descending into chaos. People were screaming and crying. Raging. Tears and fury were weighing on the air all around him, but all Steve could do was sit, frozen to the ground. Somewhere behind him he could hear people talking. Maybe Bruce? They were probably making some kind of a plan. Gather the survivors. Find out who’s missing. Go after Thanos. It’s what he would do.

But he wasn’t. He couldn’t. All Steve could do right now was slowly drag himself to his feet and start to walk away.

“Where the hell are you going?” Rhodey called. The rushing in Steve’s ears was so loud he could barely make out the words, and even so, he didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could if he tried. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and his lungs burned as they desperately tried to pull in enough air. His feet were moving, but he didn’t know where they were taking him. All he could focus on were the faces he’d watched fade into nothing. Bucky…Wanda…Rhodey had been calling for Sam but Steve never heard an answer. Was he gone too? It seemed likely, given everything else that had happened. His people were gone. So many, in the blink of an eye. How could he have let this happen? He should have saved them. Fought harder. Done more. Something. Anything.

He stumbled through the open field that had just moments ago held a ferocious battle, eyes unfocused as he bumped into mourners left and right. There were no awkward apologies or half-smiles exchanged, just the forlorn wailing of a heartbroken people. Some of them cried, but Steve didn’t. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was too numb, or maybe his pain had gone so far past what he thought was possible that even tears couldn’t do it justice. Whatever the reason, he found himself oddly calm when he realized he’d made it back to the Quinjet. Some of the Dora were on the landing pad, but they were too preoccupied with the crisis at hand to pay attention to him. Steve made his way on board and shut the door, punching in random coordinates to take himself as far away from this place as possible.

For the next few weeks, Steve just wandered. He went back to New York briefly to grab some money he had stashed and a couple other things, and then he was off again. Knowing the Quinjet would be too easy to track, Steve left it behind. He didn’t want to deal with the questions he knew whoever caught up to him would have. So, he caught a flight across the Atlantic with some refugees that were headed home. The old no-fly list and various warrants he was sure he still had seemed not to matter much anymore. The world had bigger problems than a manhunt for a disgraced former Avenger.

Once he made it to Europe, he hitchhiked and took busses and trains across the land. There was no rhyme or reason to Steve’s path. He simply took any ride he was offered, the next train to leave, the first bus out in the morning. Fate seemed to have taken over for him though, and she knew exactly where he needed to go. His route took him past Saxony, Germany, and the newly rebuilt airport. Then, down through Bucharest and a rerouted strip of freeway. Finally, he went north and found himself at the base of a mountain, staring at the ruined remains of the Sokovian capital.

Blood began to drip from his knuckles before Steve even realized he was clenching his fists. His hands shook as he opened them and raised them to his eyes. The crescent-shaped cuts his nails left behind were shallow, no doubt to be healed by morning, but the sight of them still made his stomach turn. He’d been numb and lost ever since the snap, shoving every emotion he felt as deep as possible because he couldn’t bear to let himself feel. Now, every drop of blood that fell from his veins pulled with it everything he’d been trying to hide. Steve fell to his knees, his hands sliding through the soft dirt, and began to weep.

How could he have let this happen? The path of destruction he’d painted across Europe had taunted him and led him back to Sokovia, where it all began. It seemed fitting that he found himself here, sitting defeated in the shadow of his first failure after facing his greatest. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried harder, his tears mixing with the blood and dirt below him. He cried for the friends he’d lost. He cried for the people he couldn’t save. But mostly, he cried for himself. It was long dark by the time his last tears dried on his face and he was able to climb back to his feet. He shivered against the night air and wrapped his arms around himself as he staggered away to find somewhere safe for the night, and possibly beyond that.

As luck would have it, there was a small cabin at the base of the mountain that was uninhabited. Steve assumed the previous occupants must have been snapped away. He made himself at home, stowing his things safely and securing the cabin. There was a small village nearby, far enough away that nobody would wander too near, and close enough that he could get some supplies. He stocked up on food, water, and enough whiskey to kill a lesser man, and locked himself inside. Drinking himself to death would be no small feat, but, hey, when had Steve Rogers ever backed away from a challenge?

It was only a few days into his binge when Natasha found him. Part of him was convinced she’d never lost him. She had a talent for being able to keep just beyond the edge of the shadows, where no one thinks to look but from where everything can be seen. At one time Steve had admired her for that. Now, he cursed her. She knocked on the door, ignoring the fact that they both knew she could break it down if she had half a mind to, and Steve grumbled to himself as he opened it.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Natasha said with a smirk. Steve rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

“What do you want, Romanoff?” he asked coldly, tossing his drink back. The sting of the liquor in his throat was the extent of the effect the first bottle had on him, but he poured himself another nonetheless.

“So much for the welcome wagon,” she said, helping herself to a drink and sitting down at the table. “I thought you missed me.”

“I miss a lot of people,” he said flatly. “Why are you here?” His tone was a little sharper than he intended, and Natasha gave the slightest flinch at his words. He thought about apologizing for a second, but instead, he just sat down and waited for her to speak.

“Tony’s back,” she said finally, causing Steve to freeze in his spot. He assumed Tony had been snapped away with the others or killed when he took off aboard Thanos’ ship. The last thing he expected to hear was that he had somehow found his way home.

“He ok?” Steve asked, keeping his voice intentionally softer.

“More or less,” Nat confirmed. “He got lost in space apparently. Came back with some new players. Powerful ones.” This time Steve didn’t respond. He knew what she was getting at and there was no way. That part of his life was over now, packed up under his bed soon to be forgotten.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Steve challenged. “Why are you here?” Natasha downed her drink and met his gaze, leaning over the table on her elbows.

“We’re going after him,” she said sternly. “Thanos. We know where he’s going to be and we’re going after him. We’re gonna get the stones and use them to bring everybody back.” Steve scoffed and stood up, turning to grab the bottle of whiskey again.

“Good luck with that,” he said, pouring another drink. “Send me a postcard.”

“I’m serious, Steve,” she said, shoving her chair back and standing up quickly.

“So am I,” he snapped, his glass cracking in his fist. “I’m not doing this anymore, Natasha. I’m done.”

“You can’t just be done,” Natasha reasoned. “We have a real shot here. We can fix this.”

“And then what?” Steve yelled, throwing his broken glass in the sink. “Say you do win. You take out Thanos and get the stones and you bring everyone back. What happens next? There will always be some other horrible thing on the horizon ready to pick up where the last one left off. It never ends.”

“Steve…”

“I failed everyone, Nat,” Steve choked out, his eyes rimmed red. “I always thought if I just did the right thing it would all be ok in the end. I put the Valkyrie in the water even though I knew I wouldn’t make it because it would save millions of lives. I went with Bucky after Siberia because I knew he needed me, even if it cost me everything. And I went to Wakanda ready to lay down my life because I knew it was what needed to be done. Every time I thought ‘This is the time I don’t make it out’ but I was never afraid. I had this idiotic faith that everything would work out somehow. I fought each and every fight because we were the good guys, and the good guys always win. Well, guess what? The good guys lost in a pretty fucking major way. I can’t do it anymore, Natasha. I can’t watch my friends suffer over and over and over again just for the light at the end of the tunnel to be muzzle flashes. I won’t.”

“You’re willing to walk away all because we lost one time?” Natasha asked, her face as unreadable as ever. Steve scoffed and raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track,” he growled. “But this is more than just a loss. I failed my people. Bucky, Sam, Wanda…they’re all dead because I let them down.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Rogers,” Natasha snapped, making Steve jump. “Self-loathing isn’t a good look on you. We all made the choice to go into that fight knowing what was on the line and we all lost. You think you’re the only one hurting over it?”

“I was the one in charge!” he yelled back. “You all followed me out there. Everyone expected Captain America to save the day like always, and I failed. I let you all down.” Silence fell between them as Steve took another drink straight from the bottle. Natasha studied his face as he did, and he could swear he almost heard the gears in her head turning. She’d always had an uncanny ability to make someone feel naked under her stare and Steve shifted in his spot to try and avoid it.

“Then why take it?” she asked quietly. The bottle almost slipped from his fingers as her words hit him like a freight train. Of course she knew he had it. He hadn’t exactly tried to hide it and Natasha seemed to have been tracking his every move since he left Wakanda. Steve forced his eyes to stay on the floor and not flit to the leather bag tucked under his bed.

“It’s mine,” he said finally. “It’s always been mine. I didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on it.” Tears threatened at the edges of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He’d cried enough for two lifetimes at this point. He was tired of it.

“You’re really not going to help us?” Natasha asked, not moving from her spot. There was a hint of something Steve couldn’t quite place in her voice. Was it just sadness? Or maybe fear? He lifted his eyes from the floor finally to meet hers, and when he did, he realized all too quickly what it was. She wasn’t sad or angry or even disappointed. What he had heard, and could now see in her eyes, was a woman who was losing hope.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he nearly whispered. “That’s not who I am anymore.”

It got quiet again. Steve hated it. The silence pressed in on his ears so hard it almost hurt. He wanted her to yell or scream or throw things. Anything. But she just stood there, staring at him.

“Ok.”

Steve recoiled at her resignation, almost like she had slapped him across the face. In all the time he had known her he had never seen Natasha look so defeated. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to be able to give her hope again. But he couldn’t. He had been fighting for so long and he was just too tired. So, he stayed quiet and waited. After a few minutes of crushing silence, she set her glass down and made her way to the door.

“I’m sorry, Nat,” he said again. “I really am. For what it’s worth, I hope you get the bastard.” Natasha stopped with her hand on the knob and looked over at him.

“Why here?” she asked, catching his eyes. “Why did you pick here? You’re almost directly in the rubble from Novi Grad. Why would you choose to stay here?” It was a fair question, he thought. To a rational person, staying in the shadow of destruction like this seemed insane. He knew the answer as soon as she asked the question. Sokovia had been the start of it all. Settling here, forcing himself to face that failure again every day, that was his penance.

“It’s what I deserve.”

Five Years Later

Steve stared out the small window in his kitchen over the field of crops he had planted around the cabin. They were about a week shy of being ready to harvest and then taken to the village to be bartered. Going into the village was like clockwork at this point, and he knew the people would be expecting him any time.

It had taken some time during his self-imposed exile to find a routine that didn’t involve a case of booze every other day. Eventually, he had come to the realization that he couldn’t actually drink himself into an early grave, so he decided the next best thing would be to work the land. It would be hard work, backbreaking if he were still the same man he was before the serum, but he could do it. He planted as many crops as he could around his cabin, working from sunup to sundown every day to maintain them. When harvest time came, he would keep only what would sustain him and took everything else to the village to trade.

His first few visits were met with raised eyebrows and hushed whispers. Never had a single farmer brought so much yield into the village at one time. A few of the merchants were skeptical to trade with him, thinking he must have stolen some of it. It was inconceivable to them that one man could harvest so much on his own. After a few trips, they came to accept the bearded stranger and his curiously large harvest and began to trade freely with him.

Steve always gave more than he got. He took the lowest prices for his crops and traded for much smaller portions than any of the other farmers around. The villagers wondered why but knew better than to question a good deal. Steve never told them why. How could he? There was no easy way for him to tell them he was responsible for the gaping crater that was once their capital. So, he settled for what he could. Giving them his crops almost for free was the best atonement he could offer.

Nights were the worst. The pain that pulled at his chest could be kept at bay while the sun was up. There were chores to do and crops to tend, and all that kept his mind far too busy for his grief to catch up. But once the sun fell and gave way to the dark, he found himself enveloped in despair. His pillow became permanently stained from the tears that lay with him every night. When he did sleep, he was plagued with continuous visions of the people he’d failed. Every night they haunted his dreams, and every morning he woke up drenched in sweat. Day after day, night after night, for five long years, it was all the same.

It was a morning like any other, wholly unremarkable like the last five years had been, when everything changed. Steve was in the field closest to his cabin, fertilizing the soil when he heard something in the village. People were screaming, the noise carried down to him by the warm midday breeze. He was about to write it off as some random skirmish between locals and go back to work when he heard the unmistakable popping of gunfire. His head snapped up toward the sound as it filled the air a second time and his stomach dropped. The fertilizer bag fell from his hands, left forgotten on the ground as Steve took off running toward the village.

He moved quickly, ducking between the trees that filled the space between his cabin and the village to keep himself hidden from view. Once he got as close as he dared he crouched down, peering out from behind the tree line. The villagers were running through the streets frantically, most of them with tears and panic streaking their faces. In between the villagers, Steve could see throngs of people he didn’t recognize. They were heavily armed and moderately well organized and they moved throughout the village forcefully, pulling people from their homes left and right. Gunshots rang out again from somewhere on the other side of the village, and Steve dropped down further to keep himself hidden. His eyes stayed trained on the armed invaders, tracking their movements as they swept through the village. They were shouting in Sokovian, and despite the half a decade Steve had spent in the country he had picked up frightfully little of the language that didn’t have to do with farming or bartering. He was able to catch a couple words, and they were mostly orders of where to go. It seemed that they were rounding everyone up and taking them to the center of town. But for what, Steve didn’t know.

Below him a door burst open, and one of the armed men emerged. He was dragging who Steve assumed to be the resident there out the door by his hair as his wife and son followed behind, begging for his life. Their pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears, and the invader dragged the man a few yards away and threw him to the ground.

Steve recognized what was about to happen all too well. He’d seen it in Germany, so many years ago. Bile rose in his throat at the memory and he shifted his weight, ready to charge the armed man. Instinctively, his right arm curled toward him, and his hand clenched around a weapon that wasn’t there. He paused and looked down, his body stilling at the emptying absence of the once familiar weight. He could still hear yelling from below, but it sounded like it was miles away. The thudding of his heart in his ears all but drowned it out as Steve fell back in the dirt, clutching his chest as his breathing sped up.

“No,” he whispered to himself, squeezing his eyes tight. He drove the heels of his hands against his eyelids until spots danced behind them, desperate to force his racing senses back under his control.

He couldn’t do this again. The battles were supposed to be something he’d left behind a long time ago. This wasn’t supposed to find him here. It was supposed to be safe. Steve ran his hands through his hair and tugged gently, rocking back and forth on the ground. His head was spinning, his ears were roaring, and his heart was pounding so hard he was sure it was seconds from bursting free from his chest. Every part of his body was shaking, and just when he was sure he was about to fall apart, a single gunshot rang out.

Everything stopped all at once when Steve’s eyes snapped open. His body stopped shaking, his heart and breathing slowed, and the roaring in his ears was replaced by a deafening silence. It only lasted for a second and then the gut-wrenching wail of a newly made widow filled the air, rattling his bones once more. He looked up just in time to see her fall to her knees, clawing at her chest. Her son stood beside her, frozen in terror. Steve wanted so badly to help them. To do something. To fight. He owed them, after all. He owed all of them. But with every thought of confronting the invaders came visions of every battle he’d lost and every person he’d failed. What if he failed again? What if he got involved and made everything worse? He thought briefly about calling Nat. Maybe she could bring in a team to help. If there even was a team left. He hadn’t heard from any of them in so long. There might not be any Avengers left. Steve finally tore his eyes from the weeping widow, struggling to pull himself to his feet, only to be met with the tear-filled and grief-stricken ones of a fatherless child. He froze, staring at the boy who hadn’t moved from his mother’s side. Steve could almost hear the pleading behind his wide eyes, and it cut him to his core. Watching the pair of them, feeling the pain rolling off them, was more than Steve could take. He tore his eyes from the scene before him, staggering to his feet and turning toward home.

For two days, Steve stayed locked inside his cabin, terrified of what he’d find if he left. He was far enough from the village that he didn’t think the violence would find him, but that didn’t stop the sound. Even with his doors and windows closed and the curtains drawn, the screams of terrified villagers and the crackles of gunfire managed to slip inside and torment him. He tried his best to drown it out, first with blankets and towels shoved under the doors, then with the alcohol he had left in his cabinets, but somehow the sound found a way in.

His sleep was worse than ever. As soon as his eyes fell shut, he was plagued with new nightmares of what he had seen in the village. Over and over, he heard the gunshot and the screams of the woman who had lost her husband. He saw the pleading eyes of her son. Each time he saw it he wanted to move, but he was rooted to the ground like the trees around him. He spent the long two days trying to justify his inaction to himself. The last time he fought it ended with half of the world disappearing. Even if he did get involved, there was no way of knowing he wouldn’t make things worse.

“It’s best to stay out of it,” he kept telling himself. Eventually, he figured he might believe it.

The sun had just started to set on the second day when a small knock at his door made Steve jump so high he thought he might put a hole in his roof. His fork clattered against his plate as it slipped from his grip and his eyes widened. It couldn’t be the bandits from the village. They wouldn’t bother knocking and judging but the sounds of the shuffling from behind the door it seemed to be someone small. Had Natasha finally returned to drag him back home? Was five years as long as she’d allow him to torture himself? A second timid knock rang out as Steve’s eyes flitted to his bedroom. The aged leather bag was still under his bed, covered by five years’ worth of dust. Was today the day he’d be forced to open it? After a moment, Steve decided whatever was on the other side of the door couldn’t be too great a threat or they would have made a move by now. He got up from the table and walked over slowly, opening the door just a crack. Standing on the other side, his eyes holding the same terror they had the last time Steve saw him, was the boy from the village.

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurted out, opening the door a little further.

“Please,” the boy whimpered. “We need help. The men with guns won’t leave.” Steve sighed softly and dropped his gaze.

“I know,” he admitted shamefully. “I saw them. They…they’ll move on eventually.”

“No, they won’t,” the child said. “I hear them talking. They say they are going to kill us all and burn the village down.” Steve’s stomach dropped and he tightened his grip in the door, the wood groaning in protest as he fought to keep himself from slipping into another panic attack. He took a deep, shaking breath before he looked back at the boy.

“Tell your mother to get everyone out,” Steve said flatly. “Get all the people you can and make a run-“

“We can’t,” the boy interrupted. “The men patrol all the time. They keep us from running.”

“What do you want from me here, kid?” Steve snapped. He flinched when he saw the scared child recoil from him and forced himself to soften his features and stay silent for fear of frightening him further.

“They killed my papa,” his small voice murmured through tears. Blinking back his own, Steve dropped his chin to his chest.

“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m so sorry. But I can’t help you.”

“But…you’re Captain America.”

It was almost like his words forcibly sucked the air from the room. Steve could feel the color drop from his face like an anchor from a ship and it threatened to pull him down with it. All this time, he’s assumed nobody here knew who he was. The unkempt beard and hair had kept him mostly unrecognizable while they had been on the run, and he thought it might have stayed that way. Of course, it only took a child to see right through him. Under different circumstances, he might have even found it amusing. Now, all he could do was lift his head slowly and feel his heart shatter at the sight of the desperate face before him.

“Not anymore,” he said simply. Before either of them could say anything else, Steve closed the door and retreated to his room.

It took almost no time once he finally fell asleep for the dreams to start. It was almost like they had been waiting for him. Nightmares played behind his eyes as Steve thrashed and whimpered in his bed, unable to do anything to wake himself. Everything he saw was as crystal clear as the day it first happened and despite his desperate screams, Steve couldn’t stop it. He watched as Bucky faded into dust before him. He listened as Rhodey called for Sam, knowing there would never be an answer. He leapt onto the last transport as Sokovia fell out of the sky from under him. Over and over, he watched all his greatest failures, laid before him in the worst form of torture.

A scream tore through the air, pulling Steve forcefully from his sleep. He sat bolt upright, his chest heaving as sweat dripped off his face. It took him a few minutes to realize the screams he was hearing weren’t his own, or even the ones of the ghosts inside his head. They were coming from the village. He tumbled out of his bed, his leg catching on something as he rubbed his face. Another, louder scream pierced the air, sending a shudder rippling down Steve’s spine. He opened his window and looked out, his brow furrowing slightly. There was a soft orange glow on the horizon that he almost mistook for sunrise. The clock on his bedside table told him it was several hours too early for that, and suddenly the memory of the boy at his door came flooding back to him.

The village was on fire.

He slammed the window shut and turned around, covering his face. This wasn’t his fight. It never had been. He could just go back to sleep and when he woke up all this would be over. But when he opened his eyes to do just that, what he saw on the floor almost made his legs give out. Somehow, while he had been thrashing in his sleep, the bag he’d stored under his bed had been knocked free, and that’s what had caught his leg when he’d gotten up. The zipper had been tugged open and now, laying free from its confines for the first time in five years, was his shield.

“This isn’t your fight,” he mumbled to himself, running his hands through his hair. “This isn’t your fight. This isn’t your fight.” Steve fell to his knees and tugged at his locks, his breath rattling in his chest as he did. The shield seemed to stare back at him, almost judgmental in its silence.

“I can’t,” he choked out. “I’ll fail them. Just like I failed everyone.” He didn’t know why we was talking to it, but he felt like he had to. If he didn’t say the words out loud he felt like his head might explode. Just then, a gust of wind forced his window back open, and the loudest scream yet tumbled through. Had he not known any better, Steve would have sworn it was Wanda. He’d heard that kind of pain when she’d lost her brother to Ultron. Something about the raw agony in it shook Steve from the nightmare he had found himself in.

What was he doing? This wasn’t who he was. If his friends could see him now, they’d be ashamed of him. Bucky would probably kick his ass, and Sam would help. Hell, Wanda would probably use her power to make him fight. In all his years on this earth, no matter how many times he’d been beaten down or kicked into the dirt he had always gotten back up. It was his way. He couldn’t sit idly by and let these monsters ravage the village. This was his fight. It had always been his fight. From the moment he volunteered for Dr. Erskine’s project his job had been to help the people who needed him.

Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.

His hand shook slightly as he reached out, gingerly brushing his fingers over the cold metal. Shame flooded him at the same time as clarity did. How could he have been so selfish? He let that man in the village die, in front of his wife and child, and for what? He could have stopped it. In trying to hide from his failures, he’d walked himself right into another one.

“Not again.”

Steve rose from the ground, his shield once again at its proper place on his arm, and made for the door. This village was his home now. Its people were his people, and he’d be damned if he failed his people again.

He took the same path he had two days before, staying low among the trees. The closer he got to the village the clearer everything became. The light and heat from the flames, the smell of smoke and burning wood, the screams of the people being terrorized. At the edge of the woods he spotted two armed guards, chuckling over the destruction below them. Knocking them out was almost too easy even in his unpracticed state. He looked out around the trees, and his eyes widened in shock.

Half of the village was engulfed in flames. They danced up into the air, painting the night sky with hues of red and orange. Even the mountain behind the village seemed to glow with them, giving the entire scene a terrifying aura. Steve’s eyes scanned over the village, the light of the fire reflected in them. He counted the armed men he could see from his perch before making his way toward them.

It was shocking to him how quickly everything came back. His muscles remembered how to silence an enemy in one hit before they could call for help. He managed to circle the village twice, picking off sentries and guards as he went, before anyone knew he was there. Eventually, as it always was, someone saw and raised the alarm for the rest. Steve’s hand tightened on his shield and he stood his ground as the bandits charged him. Gunshots pinged off his shield as they fired on him, screaming in Sokovian. He swung his arm and knocked out two of them at once, grabbing the barrel of a gun he found aimed at his head before it could fire. With a grunt, he pulled it from its owner’s hands and swung it hard, knocking him out cold. More and more men swarmed the area, and one by one, they fell. Between gunshots, heavy punches, and the thudding of unconscious bodies hitting the ground, Steve made his way through all of them. Along the way, he gathered whatever villagers he could find and used his broken Sokovian to direct them away from the carnage. He couldn’t help but note as he made for the center of town that he hadn’t yet seen the boy and his mother. Was he too late for them?

Smoke and screams filled the air as Steve threw the shield like he had never stopped, stopping an enemy running for him dead in his tracks. When he emerged from the smoke at the center of town, he narrowed his eyes at the sight. A small group of bandits was gathered there, protecting their obvious leader. He was screaming frantic instructions at them, his face drenched with sweat and fear. There was a moment of hesitation among the entire group before one particularly brave man led the charge, screaming as he did. Steve smirked slightly to himself and stomped on the edge of the shield, flipping it up into his waiting hand. He raised it high to deflect their bullets as he ran forward to meet them. The first two were knocked off their feet in an instant, hitting the dirt hard and groaning in pain. The next three fell by his fists as he kept on his path toward the leader. More bullets rained on him as Steve dropped to the ground and rolled to his right, throwing his shield hard to knock out the two men that flanked him. Only two others remained and with a few well-placed blows, Steve sent them to the ground as well. He drew himself to his full height and glared at the bandit leader, rage and adrenaline bubbling in his chest. The terrified man tried to stare him back down, but the tremble in his hands made his fear all too evident.

They made their moves at the same time, the invader raising his gun to fire and Steve diving out of the way just in time to avoid the spray of bullets. He scooped the shield back into his grip and ran forward, sending bullets ricocheting back the way they came. One of them struck his enemy in the arm and he cried out in pain, lowering his gun and giving Steve an opening. He lunged forward and grabbed the weapon, bringing his shield down with as much force as he could to crack it in two. As it fell in pieces to the ground, Steve turned to the wounded bandit and seized him by the neck, lifting him high to glare at him as his feet dangled helplessly below him.

“M-Mercy,” the man croaked out. “Please. Mercy.” Something about the fear that voice fueled the rage that was already burning in Steve’s gut, and he squeezed tighter.

“You want mercy?” Steve hissed through gritted teeth. “Where was your mercy when you attacked my people? Hmm? Tough man when you’re the only one with a little muscle but as soon as anyone stands up to you, you’re pissing in your pants aren’t you? Give me one good reason I should let you walk away from here.” His fingers tightened around the man’s neck, pulling more gasps and choking sounds from him as he fought for air. From behind the struggling man, Steve could see the villagers stepping out of the shadows. Among them was the boy that had come to his door, and his mother. Steve let out a small sigh of relief seeing they were ok, letting his grip loosen slightly. They were staring at him, the remaining flames casting long shadows over their awestruck faces. Steve looked over the crowd, then turned back to the gagging bandit in his hand. He thought about how easy it would be to end it. A simple flick of his wrist and this plight would be over. His people would be safe. He squeezed tighter again and the man clawed at Steve’s hands, desperately trying to breathe. The crowd around him gasped, and that was all it took for Steve to realize what he was doing. He slowly uncurled his fingers and lowered the man so they were eye to eye.

“Leave,” Steve growled at him. “If you ever come back here, or I hear you’ve tried this anywhere else, I won’t be so forgiving.” He opened his hand and let the bandit fall to the ground, keeping his eyes on him. The man choked and sputtered, gasping for air as Steve turned to walk away.

“Wh-Who are you?” his raspy voice called out. Steve stopped and looked down at the shield in his hand before glancing over his shoulder and catching the eyes of the boy who’d recognized him. With a small smirk, Steve turned to the crumpled man on the ground.

“I’m Captain America.”

For the next three weeks, Steve spent more time in the village than he had in the previous five years. Together with his people he had helped put out the fires and harvested all his crops to feed everyone. Once the injured had been cared for and the dead had been buried, they set to work rebuilding everything the bandits had destroyed. It felt right to be helping, and Steve felt more like himself than he had in years.

The sun was already scorching in the sky and the work for the day well underway when someone came running toward him, shouting about an outsider in the village. Steve’s head snapped up and his muscles tensed, ready for another fight, but once he saw a familiar flash of red hair, he relaxed.

“It’s ok,” he said with a small smile. “She’s a friend.”

“Aw, I’m touched,” she quipped, looking him over. “You look like shit, Rogers.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes, pulling her in for a tight hug.

“It’s good to see you too,” he said as she squeezed him back. Warmth spread through him when he felt her arms around him, and Steve realized just how much he had missed her. He held on a little longer than he should have, clearing his throat before stepping back. Natasha discreetly wiped an errant tear from her cheek and offered him a soft smile.

“This your handiwork?” she asked, nodding toward one of the burnt-out buildings.

“Not exactly,” Steve said as he blushed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here, Natasha?” She crossed her arms in front of her and bit her lip, steadying herself as she spoke.

“We found something,” she said quietly. “Or someone. He found us. It’s a long story but we think we’ve got a way to bring everybody back.” Steve sighed and shook his head, setting his hands on his hips.

“Nat, we’ve been down this road before,” he started, but she shook her head to stop him.

“This is different,” she protested. “Scott can explain it better than I can but I swear, Steve. This is read. We can undo all of this.”

“You tried going against him before and nothing changed,” Steve said. “What makes you think this time will be any different.”

“Just…just trust me,” she begged, her eyes glistening. “We need you for this. Please.” There was a vulnerability in Natasha’s voice that Steve had never heard from her before, and it made him pause. She really believed this chance, whatever it was, would work. When she told him they were going after Thanos the first time, it felt like a mission born of vengeance. He wasn’t sure back then she actually believed they could save everyone. Now, something really was different. There was still fear and trepidation, but there was something else there too.

Hope.

The hope he’d stolen from her five years ago was back and she had come here to find him, begging him to keep it alive. Steve looked over his shoulder at the villagers working. They had come a long way in three short weeks, digging themselves out of the rubble the bandits had left behind. There was even a bit of laughter in the air now, attempting to heal the scars of that awful night. Steve didn’t want to go. He loved it here and he wanted to stay with the people that had come to accept him as one of their own, but he knew this mission was bigger than just him. It was bigger than all of them. If it worked, they could see their loved ones again. Families would be reunited, and even more scars could be healed. Leaving now wasn’t him running away again. Going with Natasha was a way to actually give back what he owed to his people.  His eyes found the mother and son that had lost their father, and the boy beamed and waved at Steve. He smiled and waved back, chuckling softly as he took one last look at the place that had become his home. With a silent goodbye to his people, he turned back to Natasha.

“Let’s go.”

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[awake-dearheart]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

My work is not to be reposted, in original form or translated, on any sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc…) without my permission. My AO3 is here, and I do not have an active Wattpad account.

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Strikethru means coming soon!

One Shots

Stay With Me

Sooner or Later

Home

A Friend To Carry You

I’ll Be Alright

To Love and Be Loved By Me

The World That I Wanted

More I Cannot Wish You

Series

Hot Girl Shit

Oh, Death (Complete)

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[awake-dearheart]

In Your Head [b.b./s.r.]

Summary: Bucky’s been on the run for the last two years, scraping together memories to try and undo what HYDRA did to his mind and refill the colors he lost when he left Steve on the bank of the river. But the past always has a way of catching up to him in the worst possible ways.

Word Count: 4800

Pairing: Stucky (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: Angst (shocking, I know), mentions of blood, explosions, and gun violence, suicidal ideation (very brief), and I guess spoilers for Civil War if you haven’t seen it?

A/N: Here’s the sequel to Come Alive that nobody really asked for but you’re getting anyway! As promised we’re all gay for pride month. I love the idea of these soulmate au’s and really wondered what would happen to Bucky in this world with his mind being turned to play dough by HYDRA. This one is VERY loosely inspired by the song Zombie but specifically this cover by Miley Cyrus. If you’d like to be added to my permanent taglist, click here!

Early in the morning, far earlier than most other places would deem reasonable, Bucharest was already starting to wake up. Shouted voices and loud horns floated up from the streets and through the paper-covered windows of the apartment Soldat currently called home.

No, not Soldat.

“My name is Bucky Barnes,” he mumbled as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes. He had to remind himself every day that he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. Eventually it had to stop sounding like a lie. He hoped. The museum in DC has confirmed the pieces he hadn’t been able to put together. His name was James Buchanan Barnes, a soldier who fought in World War 2. His battalion was called the Howling Commandos and their mission had been to destroy HYDRA bases. It was during one of these missions that he had fallen off a train and been assumed dead. Of course, that wasn’t the end of his story. But nobody knew that back then. He had written down everything from the museum before he left, hoping that if he read it over and over again it might help unlock the memories HYDRA had taken from him.

He yawned softly and rubbed his eyes again, looking around the small room. There were some colors today. His red henley peeked out from his small closet, and the blue baseball cap he’d tossed aside when he’d gotten home yesterday sat on the table. Long, yellow strips of light spilled across the floor, taking the color from the newspapers he’d taped to the windows and painting the small space. He smiled softly, thankful at least some of them were visible. Colors came and went from day to day. Some mornings Bucky woke up to a world in black and white, and others were almost overwhelming with how many new hues invaded his eyes. It was never complete one way or the other though. Something always stuck out opposite the rest of what he could see, reminding him that no matter what he saw, he still wasn’t completely whole.

The reason for the colors was easy enough to find. It was one of the first things he had looked up once he felt safe enough to go into a library. He was able to find some research done in the 1980s that had solved the mystery surrounding why some people were able to see in colors and others in black and white. People who had met their soulmate, the other half of them, would suddenly see the world for all it was, vibrant and bright. There was more to it than just that of course, some science talk about cosmic radiation possibly stemming from the big bang and genetic markers, but it boiled down to one inescapable fact: If you could see colors, you’d met your soulmate. Most people would have felt joy at the idea of knowing they had found their other half. But most people weren’t Bucky. It was terrifying to think of one person in all the world being the only one he was meant for. He was a monster who had spent decades doing horrific things. Why should he deserve someone destined only for him? How many people’s color had he taken away over the years when he ended their soulmates? The ghosts of all the lives he’d taken danced in his head every day, reminding him what he was and that he didn’t deserve the happiness of being with his other half. Groaning softly, Bucky pulled himself from his small bed, and much bigger thoughts, and made his way to get dressed.

This apartment was relatively new to him, and sometimes still made him feel like he was an intruder. Ever since DC, he had been constantly on the move. One of the first instincts he had after his escape was not to stay in one place for too long. The remnants of HYDRA along with just about every branch of the American government were still looking for him. He had to keep moving. Bucky couldn’t be sure, but he often got the feeling that somewhere, maybe in a small apartment in Brooklyn or the big fancy Avenger’s compound, someone was doing everything they could to find him. He had no way of knowing if that was true, of course, but just the idea of it gave him a small feeling of calm.

Once he was dressed, he went over to the table, sitting down and opening his notebook. This was the routine he’d made for himself on the run. Wake up. Remember your name. Get dressed. Remember everything else. Everything he had learned since leaving HYDRA behind was in this notebook. Every memory that bubbled to the surface, whether it made sense or not, went into the book. Bucky thought the repetition of it all, along with seeing them in his own writing would help cement the memories in his head. Sometimes it did. Other times, he forgot what his handwriting looked like and they leaked away again, like water through a sieve. He read the book every day, trying to force new memories to appear or old ones to stay where he put them. It was almost like he was reading a story that had happened to someone else. None of it felt like his, but he read it anyway. Sometimes as he read, things he hadn’t written down before would come back to him. They were always different, and usually from before his time as the Winter Soldier. He knew he had a sister with red hair, but he couldn’t remember her name. On one page he had drawn a picture of a green crocheted blanket his mother had given him as a child. And of course, there was the boy whose eyes matched the sky. He wrote them all down, especially the ones with him. Those were the ones he wanted to remember the most. Each new memory brought new colors with them, if only until he closed his eyes at night. 

Not all the returning memories were good. Bucky was plagued in his sleep by memories he didn’t want to keep; the crimson red of spilled blood soaking through the pale green of army fatigues, bright yellow muzzle flashes taking lives before him, red taillights flickering before a car swerved and crashed on the side of the road. And the screams. The cries of people begging mercy from the weapon HYDRA had made him into played like a symphony in his head, crescendoing to a fever pitch before he woke up, sweat-soaked and panting every night. He didn’t want those memories to stay, but they always did.

After he read through his notebook a few times with no new memories surfacing, Bucky decided to go down to the market for some food. He had read somewhere that plums were good for memory.

“Might as well,” he mumbled to himself, pulling on his hat and gloves. How could he have known what was waiting for him outside his door?

The man working in the kiosk caught his eyes and immediately ran from his spot, the panic on his face evident. Bucky rushed across the street to find the newspaper he had abandoned, and his stomach dropped out.

Winter Soldier sought for bombing in Vienna

The face staring back at him from the paper was supposed to be his, but it wasn’t. Was it? His hands shook slightly as he struggled to remember his own features. This couldn’t be right. Bucky had been in Romania for nearly a month now. He’d never even been to Vienna. Had he? His breathing sped up as he struggled with his spotty memory, and the few colors he had woken up with this morning started to fade away. He dropped the paper and turned around, taking deep breaths and driving the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I’m Bucky,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m Bucky Barnes.” Spots of color bloomed behind his eyes as he dug his hands in harder. He had to get home. Romania wasn’t safe anymore. He just needed to get home and gather his things and he could move on to the next place. Where exactly that would be was anyone's guess, but he’d figure that out once he was on the move.

The second Bucky opened the door to his building, he knew something was wrong. Someone was in his apartment. He could hear them from downstairs. For a second, he debated just leaving. They had no way of knowing he was there, and he needed all the head start he could get. But something, a voice in his head, stopped him. He couldn’t explain why, but Bucky wasn’t afraid of the intruder. As he slowly ascended the stairs his pulse didn’t quicken, and his breathing remained steady. Whoever was in his home had clearly sought him out and the fear Bucky knew he should feel was replaced by a powerful curiosity. As soon as he opened his door, he understood why.  

Oh.

The second his eyes fell on the familiar shield all the colors that had been missing from the world that morning filled in. He had to stop the gasp that threatened at his lips as he glanced around to take it all in. He forgot how beautiful it was. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as Steve turned to face him.

“Do you know me?” he asked. The question cut through Bucky like a knife to the heart. If you only knew, he thought. He considered for a moment telling the truth. After all this time Steve was finally here, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to tell him yes. In truth, there was something oddly romantic about the two men out of time being destined for one another. Bucky could just say “Yes, you’re my soulmate and I know you” and deal with the fallout after. Every fiber of his being that longed for a sense of safety after all this time told him that Steve would be that safety. All he had to do was say yes. But the second his lips parted to say the words, the image of Steve on the riverbank popped into his head. Bloody, bruised, and broken. All by Bucky’s hand. As desperate as he was to stop running, he knew that as long as his mind was so unstable, the best thing for everyone was that he stay as far away as possible. He would rather face the pain of being separated from Steve than ever risk hurting him again. So, he did what he had to do. He lied.

“You’re Steve,” he answered flatly. “I read about you in a museum.” It wasn’t a complete fabrication, but Bucky still felt guilty. He hated this. Steve kept talking, and over the earpiece he wore Bucky could hear someone warning him about special forces making their way into the building. A fight was coming. Bucky sighed and tossed the bag of plums down, removing the glove from his metal hand.

“You pulled me from the river,” Steve almost shouted as Bucky heard boots pounding up the stairs. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky lied.

“Yes, you do,” Steve challenged.

“Breach! Breach! Breach!”

Everything after that happened so fast. There was shooting, crashing, bombs exploding, and general chaos. Bucky couldn’t tell what was real and what were memories triggered by all the fighting, so he did what he knew best. He ran. A man in a black suit with strength on the level of Bucky and Steve joined the fight, and Bucky just barely made it out. The chase continued down a stretch of road, totaling several cars until finally, they were caught. Armed men surrounded them, and Steve’s outstretched arm was the only thing that stopped him from continuing the fight. Scared as he was, Bucky allowed them to fit him into a secure vehicle and take him away.

The quiet of the small room he had been taken to was the worst. He had resigned himself to his fate, but that didn’t make it any easier. When it was quiet, the voices started. During the day he could drown them out with the noise of the city or music. But here, in the silence of his cell, there was nothing to keep them at bay. Sometimes they were the voices of people he’d killed. Sometimes it was Zola. Now, however, it was Steve. Bucky hoped his voice might bring him some comfort, but hearing him in his head, saying what all the others did, was so much worse. 

“Монстр.”

Monster. That’s what he was. Tears pricked at his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. This was his future. Isolation. Quiet. Nobody but him and the voices in his head. And no Steve. He couldn’t tell if he was losing colors again or not, but if the pain in his soul was any indication they had surely faded.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered soon. Once the doctor came in and the lights went out, Bucky realized quickly that things were going to fall apart. The doctor had the book. And he knew the words. The demon inside Bucky’s head screamed and thrashed against the cage he had worked so hard to lock it inside. He broke free from his restraints and beat against the glass that separated him from the doctor. If he could just get to him before he finished, maybe Bucky could stay in control. The glass before him fell and he stepped out as the doctor said the final word.

But Bucky was already gone. And only Soldat remained. 

“Я готов отвечать.”

It’s cold. Why is it so cold?

Bucky groaned as he opened his eyes, wincing slightly at the throbbing in his temples. Migraines were a common occurrence after he’d been activated, and this time seemed to be no exception. He was on the floor of what looked to be an abandoned factory of some kind. How did he get here? What had he done? With another groan, he moved to pull himself off the floor, only to find his left arm stuck. That was odd. The left one was never stuck. He looked over to find it wasn't just stuck, it had been pinned inside of a piece of factory equipment. Whoever had brought him here must have done it on purpose to keep him from escaping. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. If they had wanted him dead they wouldn’t have bothered trapping him, but if they wanted him alive that could be even worse. The Winter Soldier was valuable to the right people. What did they have planned for him?

“Hey, Cap!” a voice called from the other room. Bucky’s head snapped up as two men walked into the room. He recognized one of them from the fighting earlier, and the other one was Steve. Seeing his face relaxed Bucky and he leaned back against the machine trapping his arm.

“Steve,” he breathed in relief. He was safe here. Steve wouldn’t hurt him or activate him or sell him to the highest bidder. He was ok.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asked solemnly. His face might have been an oil painting it was so still, and despite the gravity of the situation Bucky couldn't help but chuckle. Steve had always been so serious. Even when they were kids he had been the stoic one. Bucky could remember a time when all the boys on the block had cracked open a fire hydrant to play, and Steve just stood off to the side, grumbling about wasting water.  

Bucky’s jaw nearly fell to the floor as he slowly realized what was happening. Bucky could remember. It wasn’t just fragments and flashes like it had been before. It was everything. Comforting Steve after his mother’s death. A double date where neither of them were very interested in the girls. The first time he saw battle after he’d been drafted. Memories filled his head faster than he could think. There were no notebooks. No routines. Just a life that he thought he would never get back being returned to him.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah,” Bucky said with a chuckle, recalling the stern but sweet blonde woman who always asked him to take care of her boy. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” Another chuckle escaped him as more memories flashed through his head. He vaguely registered Steve talking as the memories started to turn darker. They weren’t his anymore. The Winter Soldier’s missions, all new to him, came forward to haunt him, starting when Steve had found him in Romania.

“What did I do?” Bucky asked, his voice shaking. 

“Enough,” Steve answered. Bucky dropped his head and closed his eyes, holding back tears. He was scared. This was everything he’d been afraid of for the last two years. People were hurt again because of him. Had he killed someone? Again? And Steve. Bucky had run as far and as fast as he could to try and keep Steve from being hurt again because of him and here he was, knee-deep in it once again. The three of them talked through what had happened after the power was cut, and Bucky struggled to organize the rush of memories barreling through his mind. Steve and the other man, Bucky thought his name might be Sam, were planning some way to get help when something overwhelming struck him.

“We’re soulmates,” Bucky said abruptly, halting the conversation in the room. Steve and Sam turned slowly toward him, their faces frozen by his words. “Say that again?” Sam asked, his voice rising as he spoke.

“It happened when I saw you on the bridge,” Bucky explained. “When you said my name. Everything turned to color. The more I remember the more colors I see. Some days there’s barely any but right now...it’s everything.”

“Holy shit,” Sam chuckled. 

“I looked it up after I got away,” Bucky continued. “I could remember the first time I saw them. When we met as kids. A boy whose eyes matched the sky.” A dark blush tinted Steve’s face as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Bucky smiled, remembering other times the blonde would blush. He liked it.

“And you just failed to mention this little factoid all this time?” Sam asked, a smirk painted on his face.

“We didn’t know what it meant back then,” Steve said, still blushing. “And when he...when I thought I lost you, I lost my colors too.”

“Did they come back?” Bucky asked quickly, trying to hide the hopefulness in his voice, but the smile on Steve’s face told him he’d failed.

“We need to focus on stopping the doctor,” Steve said, causing Bucky’s heart to drop slightly. “Sam, make the call.” Sam nodded and left the room and Steve stepped forward to open the machine that held Bucky captive. He stood, spinning his arm to reset the shoulder, and kept his eyes on the man in front of him.

“Steve,” Bucky started, his own cheeks burning.

“Not now, Buck,” he replied, shaking his head. “We’ll talk about it. I promise. But right now we need to focus on keeping you safe and making sure the doctor doesn’t get to the other super soldiers.” Even though he understood Steve’s need for focus, the words still hit Bucky like a punch to the face. Another mission. Even when he was free from HYDRA, he was still putting a mission ahead of himself. With a deep breath, Bucky nodded and followed Steve, noting that the blue had faded from his eyes.

Bucky offered a soft smile to the lab tech who wrapped his hand, his eyes traveling over the expansive room he was seated in. He struggled to make sense of the last few days and how he had ended up here. So many people had come to his aid, or rather Steve’s, and now they were sitting in jail cells for it. They had destroyed an airport and made their escape all to find out the doctor, Zemo, had wanted to end the super soldiers, not use them. Maybe if they had just left him alone Tony never would have seen the footage of what Bucky had done to his parents. Steve never would have had to choose between them, and the two of them wouldn’t be here now, hiding in Wakanda under the protection of the newly crowned king. He looked around the sleek white lab again, taking in the amazing technology and vibrant colors, when his eyes landed on Steve making his way toward him. Both of them wore matching smiles as Steve stopped next to the exam table. 

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asked shyly. Bucky’s eyes fell on the daunting cryo tube before them as he nodded slightly. 

“I can’t trust my own mind,” Bucky said. “So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going under is the best thing. For everybody.” He kept his face as still as possible, not wanting to give away the fear that clawed in his mind. He didn’t want to go into the cold again. Cold had always meant forgetting and he didn’t want to forget. Not again. Not after getting it all back. Steve was here with him and so were the colors and Bucky was desperate to keep it all. He had already lost his arm again. He couldn’t lose any more. 

“I lost colors too,” Steve said abruptly, pulling Bucky from his spiral.

“You...what?” he asked, shocked. 

“When you fell,” Steve replied. “It didn’t happen right away. The whole way back to base I could still see them. I told Dum Dum I was going back to find you because I knew you were still alive. And then, all of a sudden, they were gone. I lost it, Buck. I beat the hell out of a wall until my knuckles were raw and I tried to drink myself to death because I knew you were gone. Course I couldn’t even get drunk.” He scoffed slightly at the memory and wiped at his red-rimmed eyes. Bucky’s heart lurched as he reached his hand out to take Steve’s, squeezing tight. 

“They came back on the bridge too,” Steve continued, squeezing Bucky’s hand back but keeping his head down. “When your mask came off and I saw your face, everything came back. God, I felt like I could breathe again for the first time in 70 years. And then you were gone. But they weren’t. Every day I woke up terrified everything would be black and white again before I could find you.”

“Steve,” Bucky began. 

“I could have gotten off the Valkyrie,” Steve interrupted, stopping Bucky’s heart in his chest. “I figured it out the second I sat down. I could have used the shield to jam the controls and jumped. I could have gotten out.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bucky asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Why would I?” Steve replied. “What did I have to go back to? Ma and dad were gone. You were gone. The army was going to make me their circus monkey again, dragging me around in front of the press and I just couldn’t take it. I might have been able to handle it all if I had you, but I was gonna be alone. I had nothin’ left. So, I put the plane in the water.”

Silence filled the room as Bucky wrestled with the weight of Steve’s confession. The stories of Captain America’s great sacrifice, a suicide to save millions, was born from a lie. Bucky had a feeling he was the only one who knew. Steve would never tell anyone else the truth. The world saw him as this unbreakable icon, the First Avenger, but only Bucky knew the real Steve. He chided himself for never stopping to think about the effect all this had on Steve. He had lost just as much as Bucky had, except Steve had been painfully aware of just how much that was all along.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said gently. “Steve, I’m so sorry.” Steve shook his head and reached up to wipe a tear from Bucky’s cheek. When had he started crying?

“None of it was your fault, Buck,” he said. “And it’s over now. We’re here together now and that’s all that matters.”

“But, Steve,” Bucky murmured, his breathing picking up. “I-If we had known what the colors meant back then maybe-”

Before Bucky could drop into a full-blown panic attack, Steve took his chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. He froze under Steve’s touch for a second, unsure how to react. It was only a second, however, and then he closed his eyes and kissed him back.

Time stopped for both of them for as long as their lips were connected. Even though they knew that they were soulmates, neither of them realized how much they wanted this until it was actually happening. The kiss was soft and slow, and filled with 80 years of unspoken words. As desperate as Bucky was for more, he found himself simply winding his arm around Steve’s waist and holding him close. After a few minutes, Steve broke away, resting his forehead against Bucky’s.

“For as long as I’ve known what love is, I’ve loved you.” His voice was as soft as the kiss had been and Bucky could hear the tears that coated his words. He leaned up to kiss Steve softly again, holding back tears of his own.

“Steve...I…,” he tried, shaking slightly. His head throbbed, spinning with everything that had happened in the lab. Steve seemed to sense how overwhelmed he was because he wrapped his arms around him and kissed his forehead gently.

“Shh, it’s ok,” he reassured him. “You don’t have to. I know it’s a lot. It’s ok. I just needed you to know before you went under. Bucky, none of this is worth a damn thing without you. I don’t care how long it takes for them to help you. I meant what I said. I’m with you til the end of the line.” Bucky let his eyes fall closed and leaned into Steve, his right hand gripping at the back of his jacket as more tears fell from his eyes. He wanted to tell Steve he loved him too because he did. He always had. But he was so tired that he couldn’t get the words out. After running and fighting for so long, he just wanted to rest. The two of them held each other tight, neither wanting to be the first to let go.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a voice called. “We’re ready.” They both looked up to see Princess Shuri standing next to the cryo tube, a tablet in her hand. Steve nodded once and turned back to Bucky, brushing his hair back over his ears. 

“You ready?” he asked, rubbing his arm gently. Bucky could only nod, his throat suddenly dry. Steve helped him up, kissing his temple gently as he walked him toward the cryo tube. Bucky held him close, his legs shaking as he made his way across the room. The princess smiled warmly at him as she tapped the side of the glass, making adjustments to the tube. She seemed sweet. Bucky hoped she was as smart as everyone said she was. He took his place in the tube, settling in with a shaky breath. Steve helped him in and was just about to step back when Bucky reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him back in for one last kiss. 

“Don’t do anything stupid til I get back,” Bucky mumbled against his lips. Steve chuckled and kissed him back, nodding gently. 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Both of them smiled again as Steve stepped back to make room. Shuri stepped up and tapped at the tablet, giving a few instructions to the techs before looking up at Bucky.

“You have nothing to worry about, Sergeant,” she said sweetly. “Rest well. And when you wake up, we’ll make sure whatever is in your head will no longer be able to harm you.” Bucky nodded shortly and leaned back, trying his best to relax and get comfortable. As the glass of the tube slid shut and the cold began to pool around him, Bucky locked eyes with Steve. He fought to keep his gaze on him for as long as possible, mumbling under his breath as the cryo gently tugged him into unconsciousness. 

“I love you, Steve.”

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[awake-dearheart]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

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