Poison

Poison

Masterlist

Summary: A diplomatic mission goes awry, leaving Cassian and his mate stranded in the Illyrian wilderness. 

Pairing: Cassian x Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: mention of poison, using body heat for warmth

A/N:  Sorry this one is a bit late. Hope you like it!

 ⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰

Cassian was unusually quiet as you flew over the dense forests of Illyria, his hold on you almost too tight for comfort. He wasn’t pleased with the plan, that much you knew, but he had agreed nonetheless at your insistence and that of his High Lady. When the message came a month prior, inviting the High Lord and Lady to a remote Illyrian camp for the purpose of improving diplomacy, the Inner Circle was immediately suspicious. Given the tenuous relationship between the Night Court and Illyrians, though, declining wasn’t an option. Initially, Rhysand had planned to go alone, but it was decided that the presence of the High Lady, a powerful female, was just enough to challenge camp leaders without pushing them away entirely. When an emergency in the Hewn City called Rhysand away, however, it was decided that Cassian, Feyre, and another delegate from the Inner Circle would proceed without him. That’s when you volunteered. 

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Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love! 

masterlist on bio & pinned post

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It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you’d channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would’ve been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It’d be less daunting if that was the case. But when it’s done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can’t ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you’d have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

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Graveyard

summary: As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too.  pairing: bucky x healer!reader word count: 10k warnings: canon level violence

As a child, you were told it was a gift; placed upon a pedestal above the quaint suffering of a rural town and removed of your innocence for the good of strangers. You’d been made to be revered – honored – for the touch that could mend the broken.  

It began with a cut upon your father’s finger – a slip of a kitchen knife that had left a small bead of blood in its wake. Curious eyes glanced up at your father as he hissed at the sting of it and you’d reach forward to place your infant hand upon the cut, a grip so mall it barely wrapped around his finger. He stilled as a soft glow began to emit from your palm. When you removed your hand and began to cry, your father was stunned to find his skin perfectly intact – no trace of a scar in its place.  

They told you it was a gift, celebrated you as if you were a blessing from Heaven itself. But they were cruel in their rejoice, selfish in their praise. They had not considered your gift was not a gift at all – but a sacrifice.  

Like energy, pain could not be destroyed— but it could be absorbed. It could be transferred. Your father’s cut had not simply disappeared, but instead manifested on the finger of an infant for a few short moments before it faded into your skin; laid to rest amongst a sea of foreign injuries that did not belong to you.  

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in the right hands

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary:

Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips, from the frost melting into teardrops on her eyelashes, from her slack face that seemed like the life was being drawn straight out of it with every wavering breath.

Blue lips were supposed to go with twinkling eyes and sticky fingers and half a headache from being in the sun too long.

Warnings: 18+, language, whump (of course–it’s me who’s writing it), violence, injury, angst, mention of disassociation, mentions of prayer and mild religious background, non-sexual nudity, that good old sharing-body-heat trope, fluff

Minors–this is not for you. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please be discerning. Do not interact.

A/N: Okay, it’s been a bit. Life decided to screw me over a little bit, but we’re here and we’re making the most of it. Special thanks to @fragile-heartt, @dazzlingpoe, @sventeen-daybreak, and some lovely anons for their kind words and fic recs to help me through. If you’ve sent me a request, I promise its on the docket and is coming eventually. If I’ve liked your fic recently, a reblog is likely on your way as well. Much love to you all. 🖤

At least the blood dripping from the lacerations on his hand was warm. 

Bucky was certain that the rest of him was fairly warm as well, the serum in his veins hardly struggling against the snow crunching under his feet and the icy flakes thrown with abandon against his face by the chill wind. But his entire being felt numb as he marched through the growing blizzard, stormy eyes never really leaving the fragile bundle in his arms. 

He could feel his blood dampening her hip, slowing as it spread down her side. Life dancing from his veins, an offering to pull her along with him. He’d gladly continue to bleed if it warmed her even a little, if it could coerce the blue from her lips and calm the shivers wracking through her body. But he doubted the serum would allow his bleeding to go on much longer.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Stay with me, doll.”

His only answer was the howl of the wind whipping across his face.

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the right partner

Summary: You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Pairing: enemies to lovers bucky barnes x avenger!reader (fake married trope)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of trauma, depictions of violence, a lot of angst, arguing, and fluff

Word Count: 10.4K

Italicization implies a flashback.

~

Pretending was easy. It came to you two flawlessly, without hesitation or second thought. The key to perfection resided in the small details. A hand placed there, a gentle smile exchanged here. Bucky and you were lovers, absolutely enamored whenever the other was around. When you held hands, the lines in your palms perfectly melted in his. Your steps kept in time with one another, the beat of his heart synching to the rhythm of your breathing. You worked like a lock and key, one useless without the other. Everything was pure flawlessness.

Except none of it was real.

You and Bucky. Bucky and you. Despite the endless amounts of warmth your humble home provided, the rooms always felt so frigid, lonesome. You both had resided under the same roof for nine weeks, and no progress in your actual relationship had been made. Pretending? That was easy. But something real? That was hard. Sentences naturally broke themselves off during conversation attempts. Eye contact was never truly sustained for a meaningful period. But this was not love, this was your mission.

In an unassuming suburban area, dozens of women had disappeared over the decades. Concerning, but not your usual assignment. This was not the guns blazing, stealth mode missions you had come to understand. They each in their own right were unique, but at the end of the day, they followed the same formula; find, interrogate, fight, and finish the case. The only reason Bucky and you were sent down to Huntington Fields was because Tony had suspected the involvement of “witchery” as he called it.

Since childhood you had trained to become a full fledged witch. As your body grew up and out, your powers grew with you. The modest nature of Huntington Field may not have been your normal territory, but magic was your arena. You assured the team that you were able to complete the mission yourself, that you didn’t need a partner, but Nat insisted.

“You’re gifted, Y/N, but you’re still new,” Nat explained.

“Why not just send Wanda out instead? She’s way better than me. I can do something else,” you tried to reason. Any way out of this was a good way out.

“This is your first long term mission. You have a chance to go investigate something you already know, it’ll be good for you.” As she explained, she could see your face twist into an expression of frustration. Everyone knew you could do it alone, they just were worried about your tendency to jump into danger.

Nat sighed, looking out the window as she spoke. “It’s Bucky isn’t it?”

Your body stiffened, but you remained silent. She already knew the answer.

So, alas, there you were, occupying a quaint house that resided on Oak Avenue, bearing the cold of New England. Everyday you two would walk out of your house, hand in hand and mingle with the neighbors. Due to your piano skills you posed as a private music teacher and Bucky played the role of a computer programmer, “working” from home most days.

Tonight, Bernadette was over your house, spreading neighborhood gossip. She was a chatty old lady, with paper thin skin and transparent white hair, but she was sweet for the most part. Talking to her truly offered nothing valuable to your intel, but the company was nice. Within these walls, no conversation flowed between you and the soldier. It was for the better, you rationalized, it kept everyone more focused on the task at hand.

“Oh, dear, look at the time, I should get going,” Bernadette fretted as she abruptly placed her teacup down. She quickly gathered her purse from the counter and thanked you kindly for the warm welcome you had provided her.

“Anytime, Bernie. You are always welcome at the Barnes home.” You gave her a warm smile in return, while emptying a few cookies into a container for her to take her. Barnes. You could feel your stomach lurch at the thought of marrying Bucky. Forever condemned to a fate of sharing the same space with him.

As if on cue, Bucky walked in and placed a loving hand on the small of your back. “Leaving so soon?” he asked, after casually giving you a peck on the lips. He was not too keen on your neighborly visits and opted to stay away from people when possible. Even on an undercover mission where talking was your job, he’d find a way to avoid people. Typical.

Bernadette let out a small sigh. “Oh, I remember when I was your age. I had just gotten married to Clint. Twenty years have passed and I still think about him everyday.” A glossy look coated her eyes as she reminisced. “Enjoy this time, these are the memories you hold on to.” She politely excused herself and took her box of leftover cookies, exiting the house to make her short walk to her own home, five doors down.

Bucky’s hand slowly slipped from your back and an immediate three feet was placed between the two of you. You took a seat at the kitchen counter, frustrated. Weeks in this personal hell and you didn’t seem one step closer to finding out what was going on. It felt like the universe was testing you. How much longer could you labor through living with Bucky?

“Don’t do that again,” you mumbled, pulling out your computer to reread articles about past disappearances. Since the 40s, they had occurred every 10 years and the next attack would be just a mere week from now. Time was running out to save the next victim who would fall to the hands of whatever you were searching for.

“What?” Bucky asked in an uninterested tone. He took a seat across from you at the counter, pulling up his computer to do the same.

“Don’t kiss me,” you snapped, not lifting your eyes from the screen.

“We’re married.” Bucky took off his gloves and held up his hand to reveal a wedding band. Luckily for Bucky, the cold weather permitted him to offer bad circulation as an excuse for always wearing gloves. It made hiding his metal arm much easier. Even so, he wore the wedding band. It’s the small details that are the most convincing he rationalized.

You huffed and glared up at Bucky who returned your stare with a blank facial expression. “Yeah, well tone it down. We don’t have to play it up every time Bernadette comes around, she’s more than convinced.”

“If our cover’s blown, the past two months would have been for nothing,” he answered sharply, straightening his posture. You weren’t sure if he felt the need to expand himself to make you feel smaller, but you weren’t backing down. Weeks of insincere kissings on top of disingenuous words were getting to you. The first time you had seen the Winter Soldier, you promised you’d kill him if given the chance. Now here you were, playing house. It made you feel like a fraud, a phony, and a liar above all else.

“We’ve gotten nowhere, James, the past two months have already been for nothing. The only thing I’ve gotten out of this is a headache,” you retorted, closing your computer to move to the bedroom.

Bucky had decided he wasn’t backing down either that night. “Like you’re so easy to work with. I’ve tried time and time again, but you won’t even meet me halfway.” He approached you, frustrated footsteps pounding the ground. You two stood face to face now, one pair of eyes barreling down into the other in a fit of anger.

“I don’t have time for this tonight,” you spoke through gritted teeth. This was the longest conversation you two had had in weeks. Before this mission, you had just simply avoided him. If Bucky was in the kitchen, you’d find your way to the opposite end of the Compound. At first he didn’t seem to pick up on your need for distance, but once he did, he never seemed to be where you needed to go. It worked for you two. But being forced together like this made an ugly hatred swell within the pit of your stomach. Life had been so much simpler when you could avoid his daunting blue-eyed stare.

Before Bucky could respond a ringing came from his back pocket. Huffing under his breath, he answered. His feet carried him into the living room, where he slept at night. The first night you arrived, he immediately setup on the couch. You didn’t care where he rested as long as it wasn’t near you.

As you walked to your bedroom, your hand gently rubbed the area Bucky’s fingers had previously occupied. Whether intentional or not, he had touched the same spot of the scar he gave you. Didn’t matter what name he went by or how much time passed, he’d always be the Winter Soldier in your eyes. You tried forgiveness, really, but fuck it was hard. You couldn’t ignore the fact that he almost killed you once before. What’s stopping him from doing it again? The mark had begun to fade as time passed, but the memories never left.

You’d be fine, then all at once it would hit, stealing your air and shattering your mood. One moment you would be enjoying your day, then the next you could feel the Winter Soldier’s hand around your throat. The ghost of his metal hand digging into your side was all too real. The whisper of a dagger lodging into your back still lingered. Even in your dreams he would appear, a silent and unforgiving figure. He had occupied the most sacred corners of your mind. He invaded your space.

A knock on your bedroom door jolted you from your trance. You cocked your head in the direction of the noise and held your hands up in a fighting position. You relaxed when you saw it was just Bucky, sheepishly peeking his head into your room.

“Sam thinks he found a lead into this guy three houses down. His name is Terrence Catracio, we should go check him out tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you replied, sitting down on your bed.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed. “Do you want some water?” His feet made a noise as he awkwardly shifted on them.

“Goodnight,” you replied, laying down and turning away from him. In all honesty you were parched, but you didn’t want his help. Because if you took his help, then you would feel like you owed him something back. That was a vicious cycle you knew would be tough to break. You didn’t want the feeling of payback looming over you.

Bucky sighed and wished you a gentle goodnight before returning to his place on the couch. Time and time again he had tried to extend an olive branch to you. He’d make your bed in the morning as you ate breakfast, he washed the dishes even when you told him you would, he made sure to take cold showers so you could use the hot water. None of it worked though, all vain attempts to gain your trust. You never explicitly told him why you didn’t like him, but you didn’t need to.

He remembered it all too.

-

Your eyes peeled open as you felt a sunbeam warming your face. You shifted groggily in your bed before finally propping yourself up onto your elbows. 10:34 A.M. Fuck. You had slept in longer than you intended to. Sleepily, you discarded your pajamas to the foot of your bed and slipped into some clothes for the day. The aroma of coffee danced its way into the bedroom, filling your nose with the comforting smell of hazelnut.

You made your way to the kitchen as you checked your phone for updates Sam had sent about Terrence. While skimming the briefing, you sipped at the cup of coffee Bucky had provided for you on the counter. The first few times he prepared it for you, you decided the best decision would be to pour it down the drain and make your own. Without fail, though, he would always make you another cup the next morning.

“You don’t have to waste it, you know. I’m not going to drink it,” you told him. There was no malice or even sharpness to your tone. Your intention wasn’t to stir trouble, you just took no interest in his small gestures.

Bucky came out from the bathroom, his newly cut hair still dripping from the shower he had just taken. “Don’t you drink coffee every morning?” When you two were at the Compound, he had noted your consistent caffeine consumption. Didn’t matter if there was a mission or not, you’d make yourself a cup every morning.

“Yes,” you replied flatly, leaving the steaming liquid on the table. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t have the heart to dump it out in front of him. That felt a little excessive.

You two had shared the house for a week at that point, this being your first and only conversation for a while. Still, he still never failed to make you a cup every morning. He didn’t even drink coffee, it was much too bitter for his liking. Bucky took it upon himself to wake up earlier than you to make sure you had some. It was a second thought to his daily flow at first, but it slowly grew to become part of his routine. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, make coffee, investigate for the day, come home, sleep, repeat.

After the third week of coffee wasted, you caved in and drank it. In all honesty, it wasn’t how you took yours. Too sweet for your liking, but the gesture in itself was thoughtful. Plus, it gave you a few more minutes to sleep.

It had gone lukewarm by the time you were drinking it. Bucky usually woke up around 8:30 A.M. to start snooping around the town on his own time. Eh, coffee’s coffee. You gulped down the cup within ten minutes while plotting out your next step. Tossing your finished drink in the sink, you put on one of Bucky’s coats before slipping out the door. You had your own, but you liked the way his leather jackets seemed to mold to your back. It fits my character, that’s all. He didn’t seem to mind, so this became a consistent habit.

The gentle snow descending from the sky was a stark contrast to the harsh winds that blew. It pushed back your eyelashes and whipped your hair about as you trekked over to Terrence’s house. The town was beautiful, but the snowy weather was unbearable at times.

It was unusual for you to go out on your own, but Bucky hadn’t told you when he was coming back and the mission was on crunch time. There was less than a week now to find why these girls were disappearing. You concluded it was best to weasel your way into Terrence’s house.

Gingerly, your chilled hands knocked at Terrence’s door. No reply. Another knock. No reply. Your eyes skimmed for a doorbell of some sort, only to find the button broken. Shocker. Even the outside of the house looked run down. The windows sagged in their frames, the unkept lawn cried out for attention, and the chipping paint on the house made it appear to be shedding. You knocked harder the third time, wanting to be able to leave as soon as possible. Maybe I should have brought Bucky. As you turned to leave, a squeak sounded from behind. A pair of shaken eyes looked through.

“What?” a gruff voice asked.

“You must be Terrence?” you beamed, plastering a synthetic grin to your face.

“Who’s asking?” He was still looking at you through a small crack in the door. His tired eyes scanned your body up and down as he awaited your response.

“I’m Mrs. Barnes, my husband and I moved down here a few weeks ago. I just realized we’ve never properly met.” You went to stick out your hand for a handshake. Mid reach it came to a stand still, as the door still remained as a barrier between you two.

With a hmph he opened the door all the way and met your hand. His grasp was too firm for comfort. He shook for a prolonged amount of time, tongue licking his chapped lips as he continued. The sight was enough to make you internally squirm. His pupils stung holes into your flesh, his gaze looking down upon you like you were a piece of meat. His hungry stare remained at your chest area as you continued to speak.

“We have to have dinner sometime,” you encouraged, fluttering your lashes. It felt gross to play into his perverse game, but you needed answers and you needed them fast. Your hand brushed over his arm as you spoke. “Maybe we can have dinner sometimes. . . with my husband of course.”

He answered with a lopsided smile, his bony frame attempting to slyly lean against the door frame. “Pretty lady, I’d love to, but I can’t cook for shit.”

“Oh, that’s alright. How about I do the cooking and me and the old man will come over here? I’ve been told I make a pretty killer cream pie.” You winked at him, giggling lightly. You felt yourself gag in your mouth. It had only taken minutes of knowing this man to pick up that he was an absolute sleeze bag.

It was settled, then. Bucky and you would go have dinner over at Terrence’s house and hopefully uncover some useful information. You gave a friendly wave goodbye to him as you made the short walk back to your house. Next time I go undercover, I’m going to the Bahamas. The cold continued to nip at your face as you pushed forward. Upon entering the house you saw Bucky sitting on the living room couch. His head whipped to face yours and a wave of relief washed over his face.

“Where have you been,” he asked, walking up to you. He searched your face, looking for any scratches or bruises.

Admittedly, you were taken back by this sudden sense of panic. As he awaited his answer, he caught a view of your hands, still shivering from the cold. Without hesitation he took off his gloves and slipped them onto your hands.

“Hey, I’m fine. Is everything alright?” You had grown used to Bucky being warm towards you despite your cold demeanor towards him, but this was, well, a bit much.

“I called and you weren’t answering.” His eyes finally met yours. If he was trying to disguise the fact that he was worried, he wasn’t very good at it. “I thought something had happened.”

“I was at Terrence’s. You weren’t home, so I went there myself. I didn’t think it was that important to mention. We have a dinner date with him, maybe we can find-”

“Please don’t do that again.” Despite his best efforts, his voice came out pleading. His eyebrows were upturned; he resembled a begging child with his wide eyes. What the hell was happening? “Just leave a note next time. Please.”

You paused, still bewildered at the scene unfolding before you. Disliking him was so easy when he didn’t talk, when he avoided you. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but you would have been content to never get to know Barnes. Right here though, his worried expression peering down on your face, it triggered something. The walls you had built up around yourself were beginning to crack, he had finally begun to snake his way in. No. You weren’t going to forget everything that had happened just because he spared you a pair of puppy dog eyes.

“Okay,” you answered in an even tone. Slowly, your fingers began to remove the gloves he had just delicately placed onto your hands. He saw this from his peripheral and moved his hands to meet yours, enclosing his large fingers tenderly around yours.

“Your hands are freezing, Y/N. Keep them on for now.” His hands entangled with yours caused your heart to pick up. You held each other's gaze for a moment longer, neither of you wanting to break away from whatever you were sharing. The past temporarily ceased from your minds. Everything that had happened until that moment, the fighting, the cold shoulders, the resentment, all drifted away. You and Bucky. Bucky and you. Maybe a minute went by, maybe an hour did. There was enough time for you to see his expression soften and he lightly squeezed your hand.

Suddenly, you were jolted back into reality, back to what was actually happening. Your hand quickly moved back towards your body and you averted your stare from his eyes. This was a level of intimacy you had not expected to endure with Bucky. Awkwardly clearing your throat you mumbled a small thank you and shut yourself inside your room. This mission was going to be a lot more trying than you thought.

-

Your body shot up out of your bed, a nervous sweat beading on your forehead. Breathing in deeply, your eyes frantically skirted around the room, for something, for someone. You didn’t have nightmares often, but when they arrived they were unrelenting. Instinctually, you reached for the scar in your back. A sigh of relief escaped your lungs when you realized there was no blood. Of course there wasn’t, it was just a dream after all. He can’t hurt me anymore. Things are different now. I’m different now.

This wasn’t like your normal nightmares though, no, it was much worse. The Winter Soldier still seeped his way in as always, but there was something more sinister there. Something more magical. You were by no means a psychic, but you had a knack for predicting major disasters. Unfortunately, you were never able to exactly pinpoint when and what they would be.

Try as you might, there was no shaking this premonition off. You found yourself tiptoeing to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Your throat was dry and maybe a refreshment would stop your head from spinning. Despite your best efforts to keep the noise to a low, the floors creaked beneath you and the cabinets seemed to open with a louder squeak than usual. You heard a shift from nearby.

“Can’t sleep?” a tired voice spoke. Bucky leaned against the doorframe as he took your image in. You appeared slightly disturbed, leaning on the counter, slowly sipping at your glass.

“I had a dream,” you replied, eyes fixated upon your water, “I was in pain. A lot. I felt some sort of magic, though. This must mean we’re getting close.”

Bucky hesitated in his movements. He knew he was probably the last person you wanted to see right now. He wanted, no, needed to help though. Calmly, he walked over to you and placed a tender hand on your arm. “Are you okay?” His voice barely carried above a whisper. He didn’t want to frighten you anymore.

You could feel his stare upon your face. You sharpened your focus harder on the counter. Damn, he made it difficult to not like him. “You don’t have to save face, no one is here,” you whispered back. He couldn’t be sincere, because if he was that meant you were wrong about Bucky Barnes. Maybe in another lifetime, you two would have been friends, perhaps even more. Not this one though, no. What happened was out of his control, but it still ached. The moment had etched itself into your very core. The damage had been done and you weren’t sure if you could ever look past it. It was better, it was safer to keep your distance than get hurt again.

“I know we don’t get along all the time-”

“No shit, Sherlock.” He couldn’t help but laugh at your quippy response. A small smile found its way to your face for just a mere second. It was long enough for Bucky to know you were making progress.

“I still worry about you.”

You swallowed, not sure how to react. A gentle grin appeared on your face, but no words left your mouth. This mission was already so hard, why did emotions need to complicate everything so much more? Bucky accepted your silence as an answer. You weren’t ready to let him in. He was just happy to see you smiling, genuinely, because of him.

“You should go to bed,” he said, turning to the kitchen clock.

“I’m not tired.” Bucky was correct, but sleep seemed impossible at that moment. You were still shocked, still scared.

Standing straight, he offered his palm face up to you. Finally, you turned to look at him. His face wore a very tired look, his eyelids actively fighting slumber. Cautiously, you accepted the invitation, placing your hand within his, as he led you to the living room. He gestured for you to take a seat. This is a trick.

“We could watch TV,” he said, sensing your hesitancy, “I can sit on the floor if you prefer.”

“It’s okay. . . we can share,” you replied, positioning yourself at the opposite end of the couch. He was slowly beginning to grow on you. Your best efforts to push James Barnes out of your life were pointless. You hated him for it. You loved him for it. It was a lot to take in. Taking the hint, he sat at the other end, a whole cushion between you two as you watched TV before inevitably drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

-

It had been an absolutely pointless night. While you had entertained Terrence, Bucky went to snoop around his house multiple times. Nothing. A whole night wasted on a wild goose chase. The weight of the mission was seriously starting to get to both of you now. It was time to make an exit and start from scratch yet again.

“Can I use your restroom?” Bucky directed towards Terrence who sat across from you two.

“Down the hall to the left,” he replied, taking a sip of his fourth beer that night. You knew Bucky was going to take one final look before you called it quits. Part of you admired his persistence, but both of you knew there was nothing there.

You continued to bite into your rice as you felt a pair of wandering eyes scan your body. Terrence hadn’t been bold enough to pull something while Bucky was around, but the moment he left, he was ready to pounce.

“So, darling,” he purred, hand rubbing your knee from under the table. It took a moment to register what was happening. Laughing nervously, you pulled your exposed leg away from him. I picked the wrong day to wear a dress. Any other time, you would have made that bastard sorry for even looking at you. For the sake of not compromising the mission, you tried your best to remain poised, politely declining his advances throughout the night.

“Oh, Terrence, I don’t think now is-”

“C’mon, scared your little husband is going to find out? He don’t have to know baby-”

“Is everything alright in here?” Bucky boomed as he reentered the room. His face was stoic, but you could see the fire in his eyes. He was pissed. He took his seat next to you. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze from under the table he asked, “Ready to go, honey?”

“We haven’t even had dessert yet. Stay a while longer,” Terrence protested.

“I think we’re done here,” Bucky spat, getting up. He kept a firm grasp on your hand as you two walked out of the door. Even after leaving the sightline of Terrence, he continued to keep his fingers intertwined with yours until you entered your home.

“Bucky, what the hell? We weren’t done looking around,” you panicked. You hated Terrence’s house, but you were more than willing to endure it for the mission. If one uncomfortable dinner meant dozens of lives saved, it would be more than worth it. Maybe by some miracle you could find something useful.

“We were done,” he replied. You could see the smoke coming out of his ears. Honestly, you were shocked he hadn’t ripped off the man’s head on the spot. “He’s a dick, but not our guy. There was no longer a need for you to be there.”

“I can hold my own, Bucky,” you reassured, slightly perturbed.

“But you don’t have to.” His frustration leaked into his tone.

“I’m not a child, I can handle the heat.”

“I know you can, but- fuck. Why are you so okay with being in danger? It’s okay to know when you’ve had enough,” he argued back.

You began to slip off his coat and place it back on the hanger angrily. “I won’t apologize for being good at my job.”

“Why can’t you just be more selfish sometimes?” he bursted out. He was tired. He was tired of how you always put yourself in harm's way. He was tired of how your bravery cost you so much. He was tired of seeing you get hurt. It ate him up inside how willingly you would sacrifice yourself for a cause at any expense.

“Why does it matter so much to you? If you knew so much about me, you’d trust me,” you snapped, stepping closer to him. Your faces were now inches apart. You could see the defeat slowly enter his eyes. This wasn’t an argument he was going to win. She cares too much.

“Okay,” he breathed, anger dissipating from his expression, “okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I trust you. I’m sorry.”

Deja vu. You had been here before, mere centimeters away from his frosted blue stare. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He could see the shift in your posture as you grew more relaxed. The last time you were this close, he had lodged a knife into your back. Just days ago, you would’ve ran from this moment. Your eyes would have found something else to focus on. An excuse, any really, would have popped into your head for you to escape. Not this time. No more running. You and Bucky. Bucky and you. Everything would be okay in time.

-

Two more days until another girl would go missing. There was nothing to follow. As the clock slowly ate away at the time, your feeling of dread grew. It was only a matter of when. It had been decided, Bucky and you would go on a night protol in hopes of catching the perpetrator in the act. Not the ideal route, but it was the only option left. Neither of you spoke about the failure you felt. The disappointment weighed down on your shoulders heavily.

To pass the time, you began to quietly play the piano in the living room. You hadn’t actually gotten to practice it much since moving in. With Bucky occupying the same room as it, you simply had avoided playing until now. He was taking a shower and therefore wouldn’t be bothered by your enjoyment for the moment.

Your fingertips ran up and down the instrument, feeling the way each key seemed to hum back through your hands as you played. In spite of yourself, you let out a small laugh. How normal this scene looked. A wife, casually playing as she awaits her husband, taking a shower after a long day of work. The white picket fence was never something you dreamed of, but it did cross your mind sometimes. You occasionally pondered how different life would have been if you gave up magic when you were young and went to pursue a normal life. It was much too late for dreaming. This was your life now. Mission after mission, fight after fight, never a dull moment in sight. For better or worse, this is where you were. You played on as you thought, eyes blurring as you contemplated further.

“You play, but do you dance?” A voice teased from behind. How strange it was. Here you were, actually talking. Bucky almost didn’t say anything, hoping your concentration wouldn’t be interrupted by his intrusion. He couldn’t help himself. You seemed to be making progress in your relationship, but he still felt nervous. What if after this mission, everything returned to normal? What if he never got to speak to you? What if he never made you smile again? He was going to enjoy your limited time left.

You grinned lightly as you continued. “I prefer to watch the dancing. You?” He took a seat next to you on the piano bench. He concentrated on how your hands freely danced across the black and white keys. He noted how you decided to keep your ring on tonight. Usually, you’d take it off in your spare time.

“No. I haven’t danced in a long time.” Not since the 40s, he thought to himself. The urge had never crossed his mind, there were too many other things to worry about.

“I’m more of a people watcher. Maybe I’ll find someone who’ll people-watch with me.”

Bucky never noticed the curvature of your lips before. They complimented the rest of your features nicely. He admired the position of your nose and the angle of your eyebrows. It was all just so wonderful. Anyone who knew you could see you were pretty, but in the dimly lit living room as you played, he could see you were beautiful.

“Or maybe you’ll find someone to dance with,” he offered, continuing to revere in your glow.

You let out a small chuckle. “Doubt it. I’m not the romance type. People are too dishonest nowadays.”

“You’re jaded,” he joked. For someone who would sacrifice herself for the world, you sure seemed to think lowly of it.

“I could say the same about you,” you retorted playfully to the soldier.

You carried on, allowing yourself to slip into the music. Bucky’s presence acted as an odd comfort. It was as if the music had created a shield around you two where nothing mattered. There was no more mission, just two individuals enjoying the silent company of the other. At some points he would hum along if he knew the words, other times he sat just happy to have the privilege of your companionship.

“You still haven’t said why.” Now his hands were upon the instrument. He claimed he remembered a few songs from his childhood and attempted to play them out. The notes were too spaced apart and his fingers appeared to have the desire to hit the piano rather than play it. Nonetheless, it was wonderful. A smile broke upon his lips as he kept on messing up the chords and you would hopelessly try to aid in his struggle.

“Why what?” you giggled, trying to place his fingers on the right keys still.

“Why you don’t dance.” His voice softened as he turned his focus away from the piano to you.

“Always the wrong song, never the right partner, I guess,” you responded coolly. You had had relationships in the past, but they were temporary, just blips in your day to day. All wonderful people in their own right, but never the person for you. You were tired of searching in an endless sea of fish and resigned yourself to solitude. It wasn’t for everyone, but you found solace in it.

“You’ll find them one day.” Bucky’s fingers had now lifted themselves off the piano. “I know it.” He gave you a sincere smile before getting up from the bench to go to his bed (or couch rather.) Heat tinged your cheeks at his sweet remark. Damn you, Barnes. Stop being nice. Quietly, you continued to play as Bucky fell asleep peacefully for the night.

-

The day of reckoning. The air around you felt thick. Deep within your stomach, you just knew something was off. Bucky insisted that you stayed inside for the day until you two would sneak about the neighborhood later that night.

“Why? I can help.”

“They’re targeting young women, Y/N. I can’t let you get hurt on my watch.”

“I can handle myself,” you gently reassured him as you sipped at the coffee he prepared.

“I know you can. Just until I get back from a possible lead, please stay.” As the day approached, Bucky grew more and more fretful. He’d never let you see, of course, as you would probably lecture him on how you didn’t need a babysitter. He knew you were strong, probably even more so than him, but that didn’t matter. He wanted to make sure you were safe. For the past three days, he had stayed up a few hours later at night, fearing some creature would steal you away in the dark. When walking around the town with you, he was always more cautious of the men who let their eyes linger on you for too long. No one was going to lay a finger on his partner.

You conceded. You knew he would be back within the hour. As of recent, you had begun to note his inability to leave you alone for too long. You caught glances of his knotted eyebrows and concerned looks. It would be a lie to say you didn’t like the doting you received as of recent. “I won’t snoop around. Promise.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief. As he put on his coat to leave, he assured you that he didn’t mind skipping this lead. It’s probably a dead end anyways. Whatever you’re more okay with. We’ll catch them tonight either way. Are you sure? I don’t mind. You basically had to force him out the doorway before he finally left.

You looked around at the now empty house around you. Over the past few nights, you’d both slowly began to pack your things away. The bare essentials of what was required to live were still left, nonetheless, the house felt hollow. You walked over to the living room, sitting on the couch. Over the weeks, it had slowly melded to the shape of Bucky.

It’s over, isn’t it?

An unfamiliar sensation crept its way into your veins. Melancholy. After weeks of dreading your stay, the familiar sound of Bucky’s steps had grown on you. His presence was now a part of your daily life. Your eyes made their way to a small framed photo on the coffee table. It was a picture of you on Bucky on your “wedding day.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. No one even notices that stuff,” you argued with Tony. It was his idea for Barnes and you to have a wedding photoshoot. “Aren’t the rings enough?”

“Y/N, how many married couples don’t own a photo of their special day?” He tiredly placed his head into his hands. You had been going back and forth with him for the past two hours about this. His forehead progressively creased more and more with exasperation.

Finally swallowing your pride, you grumbled, “Fine, but I’m not kissing him.”

As if on cue, Tony popped out of his chair and excitedly rubbed his hands together. “Great, your dress is in the next room.”

“What?” Before your thoughts could puzzle what was happening, you found yourself slipped into a flowing white gown. There was no denying, the dress was absolutely stunning. Tony did a wonderful job picking it out. Still, it felt all off. It was a cage, trapping you underneath your own sense of dread. You wanted to rip it apart, burn it to pieces. Walking to meet Bucky in the backyard of the Compound felt like a funeral procession. An inescapable feeling of panic rang in your chest cavity.

Bucky wore a simple, flattering suit. His gaze attempted to meet yours, but you were unable to look him in the eyes. This was all becoming too real.

“Christ, kid, you’re not dying, you’re getting married. Smile.” Tony teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Breathe in. Breathe out. You looked to face the soldier, blue eyes gleaming under the sunlight. You mustered the brightest smile you could, slowly moving closer to him. Nervously, he wrapped his arms around your torso and smiled back. Snap. The photo was taken and you immediately began to discard the veil. You almost quit right on the spot, gave up then and there. But this was bigger than you. People’s lives depended on you. This would be your burden to bear.

Bucky found you in the hall, where you frantically removed your heels. Even a fifteen minute photo shoot was overwhelming for the both of you.

“We don’t have to do anything.”

You responded with a huff as you continued to fight your way out of your wedding garments.

“In public, we can hold hands, kiss, and do the marriage thing. When we’re alone though, you aren’t obligated to any of that. I’m taking the couch. You won’t even know I’m there.” He felt his heart splintering as he continued. He craved your validation, but he understood your disgust.

He didn’t like himself either.

You now grasped the photo in your hand, tracing your thumb in small circles around it’s golden frame. It was a convincing shot. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say you appeared in love. Bucky looked at you like you had personally hung the stars, moon, and sun alike in the sky. A rush of emotion came spilling up. Sure, it was all pretend, but you were going to miss this. You were going to miss Bucky making your coffee in the morning. You were going to miss the steady grip of his hands. You missed it already. Your heart ached at the thought that this was it. Tears threatened to pool at your eyes, but you quickly shook the feeling away. None of this was real. It wasn’t worth crying over a misguided fantasy.

For a while you laid on the couch, aligning your body to the impression Bucky’s form had left. It smelled like him too, pine and coffee and patience. You pressed the photo to your chest, allowing yourself to live in this beautiful invention for just a while longer. How lovely it was to exist in this illusion of normalcy.

A knocking came from your door, jostling you up. Sadly, you set the frame down on the couch cushion and went to answer the door.

“Hi, Bernie,” you greeted kindly to your neighbor. You were going to miss her once you left Huntington. She had always been so warm to you.

“Hello, dear. I hate to bother you, but it appears some shelves fell over in the basement. My old bones can’t move them myself, I was wondering could you help?” Her aged frame stood shivering in the wind. As you put on one of Bucky’s coats, you remembered his earlier request that you leave a note. Dashing to the kitchen, you grabbed a piece of paper and pen and quickly scribbled ‘Be back soon, helping Bernie for a sec.’

You tailed behind Bernadette as she led you into her basement. You had never been inside her house before. It was decorated top to bottom with those eerie baby angel sculptures and a surprising amount of taxidermy. To each their own, I guess. A pair of creaky stairs later, you entered the damp, dark basement to see nothing but a concrete floor. Empty.

“Hey Bernie, I don’t-” Suddenly, a violent shock of pain shot through your body, stopping your sentence short. Your feet were lifted off the ground as you attempted to fight against whatever the hell was going on.

Bernadette let out an amused laugh as she circled you. Her papery skin took a new, glowing form. Her white, thinning hair turned itself into a gorgeous chestnut brown. She was no longer the meekly old lady you had grown to know, but rather a stunning middle aged woman.

“For someone with your skill, I’m surprised you didn’t catch on sooner,” her eyes squinted as she examined your useless struggle against her magic. She was entertained by your battle against her power. It fed her ego to see how helpless you looked.

“How?” you gasped out, a burning sensation now rising in your lungs. They felt like they were filling up with fire, polluting the rest of your body with an ugly ash. She was powerful and above all else she was merciless. Her hand movements were fluid, her incantations so precise. She was dangerous.

“The moment I met you, I sensed something different. So young for such a strong witch. I was impressed. If you and your husband hadn’t come to ruin my plans, maybe I could’ve taught you a thing or two,” she droned on, continuing to circle you like a shark sniffing blood. “I’ve been able to restore my youth for damn near a century with no issue. So what if one girl goes missing every couple of years?”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that, didn’t agree with me too tough.” If not for your compromised state, you could’ve hit yourself for being so ignorant. How was the pattern not clear before? They always had to be young. She couldn’t feed off of an older life source. Your heart broke for the dozens of girls who suffered at the hand of this monster. They had valuable time stolen from them because of one selfish woman with power.

“I prefer this form,” she explained, gesturing to her physique, “don’t get me wrong, but the old lady facade really makes people let their guard down. A false sense of security, if you will.”

“Bucky is going to find me,” you hissed, thrashing against her hold. Damn, she’s good.

“Aww, young love,” she sarcastically smiled while tilting her head. “Naive, but so pure. Brings me back.”

Mustering all your strength, you temporarily broke from her spell, abruptly landing to the ground. Immediately you began hurling energy her way, knocking her off her feet onto the hard concrete beneath you. You hovered over her, veins ready to pop from your neck, prepared to issue a fatal strike. Kill or be killed. Before your fist was able to make contact with her supple skin, her fingers skimmed your temples, casting an orange glow around your head. The room went dark as you crashed on top of her with a thud.

-

Bucky returned home within the hour, just as he promised. Another dead end. He felt guilty for allowing you to stay home alone for so long. She can handle herself. He gnawed at his lip anxiously as he pulled into the driveway. He leapt out the car and quickly entered your home. His eyes were met with an empty living room. No one. He peered to see if you were asleep in the bedroom. No one. He saw the bathroom door askew, unoccupied. No one.

“Y/N?” he called out, panic seeping its way into his chest. Lastly, he checked the kitchen and was only greeted by a sloppily scribbled note. Be back soon, helping Bernie for a sec. A sigh of relief parted from his lips. He didn’t want to seem overbearing, but he rationalized it was the right move to join you. He just needed to see that you were okay, that’s all. He headed out the door with a nervous swiftness.

He arrived at Bernie’s door. None of the lights were on inside it appeared. That’s odd. He gave a knock. Silence. He repeated himself, adding more impatience to the second knock. Silence.

“Bernie? Y/N? You guys there?” Silence. He wasn’t knocking a third time. Reeling back, he forced his way through the old wooden door, crashing forcefully into it. The house was empty. Damnit, doll. Something was wrong. He searched around the house, checking rooms, breaking many angel figures in the process, losing his mind in a labyrinth of shattered glass and taxidermy animals in an attempt to locate you.

A deep groan sounded from the distance. Bucky felt a cold chill run through his spine as hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He had heard that noise before. It was the same one he heard in his endless nightmares. It was the reason he willingly kept his distance from the new recruit. It was why he longed to carve his brain out of his own skull some nights. It was unmistakably yours.

He listened to the direction it came from, leading him to a pantry-like door. Without hesitation, he bursted through it, chips of wood flying about in his path. Hearing you in pain awoke something primal within him; the only mission that mattered now was to find you. He bolted down the steps to be met with the image of you, pathetically curled on the ground as a woman held her hands to your head. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he knew it needed to stop. With his full force, he barreled into the mysterious woman, landing on top of her as his fingers met her face.

You gasped awake, the darkness which stunned your sight being cast away. You heard the ungodly sound of flesh making contact with flesh. Weakly turning your head, you saw Bucky punching the crap out of a younger Bernie. Before he could make a third swing, her eyes glowed a firey color as he was lifted off her and thrown against a brick wall. A grunt forced its way out of his mouth.

Bernadette tsked as she stood back up, wiping the fresh blood that leaked from her nose. She looked down at the red liquid that now stained her hands and back to Bucky. “You’re quite the fighter.” She sounded impressed with the gull it took to come full charge at her.

“Bucky?” you managed, looking over to him. He struggled to go over to you, as Bernie’s magic held him against the brick wall. Your body didn’t possess the strength to get up and fight. You felt it dying all around you. Whatever Bernie had done to those other girls, she was doing to you before Bucky interrupted. He gave you a pained expression as he repeatedly whispered sorry. Tears were coming to his eyes, but he forced them back. He didn’t want the last memory you had of him to be so bleak. So you restrained himself, whispering sorry, fuck I’m so sorry, sorry.

Death. The thought had never crossed your mind before. A natural consequence of life you hadn’t expected to meet with so soon. You saw Bernie stand up to approach you, finish the job. Out of all the ways to go as an Avenger, this was probably the most peaceful. You felt nothing as she worked. There was just a blackness that engulfed your body. Not the worst way to die.

“Wait,” Bucky shouted desperately, trying to work against Bernie’s spell, “Wait! Take me instead.”

She paused her work, looking him up and down. “No offense, but you’re not my usual target. You’re not as young as you seem. I can tell you’re not from this time, loverboy.”

“I know that. You don’t want her, though.” His voice faltered as he said the word ‘her’. Glancing over to your shivering body he continued. “I have super soldier serum pumping through my veins. I’m sure that’s much more valuable to you.”

Bernadette paused, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. “Hmm. You make a good point.” Since the moment she met Bucky, she could tell something different about him. She felt it every time he got close to her, it radiating off his body. He seemed to possess no magic within him, so this would explain how he was able to live for so long.

“Bucky, no,” you called out in pain. He couldn’t die because of you. Not after everything you had been through together. It felt cruel, so sickly twisted of fate to do this. The moment you had learned to trust the most caring soul in the world, he was going to be ripped from you. With every last bit of will power you had, you tried to do something.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m okay. We’re going to be okay. I promise,” he reassured as Bernadette approached him.

“Too bad she can’t live, she knows too much. Thanks for the lovely display of passion, though.” His heart fell through the floor. He shattered into a million pieces, strewn upon the floor by two simple sentences, speechless. “I have a better idea for you lovebirds.” With a wicked flick of her hand, she casted another spell over you.

Your body had strength back within it. Vigor re-entered your veins as you rose to your feet. You weren’t quite sure where you were, you just knew you were frightened. Unexplained aches peppered your body as you looked around. The snow pounded down into the ground all around you. Then there he was. Your breath hitched as he moved closer, hands out in an offensive stance. You said you’d kill him the next time you met. You intended on keeping your word.

Your hands flew out in anger, casting golden bursts of energy his way. He didn’t waver. Your hits weren’t slowing him down one bit. He moved at you more swiftly. Never again. You reeled your hands back and sent out a large wave his way.

Bucky hit the floor with a thump as he approached you. “Y/N, it’s me,” he tried to ration. There was a film over your eyes. They looked foggy, like an unclean fish bowl. He got back on his feet and tried to approach you more slowly. “C’mon, whatever is happening, I know you’re stronger than.”

The Winter Soldier refused to stop. You decided on a more forceful tactic, lurching forward and connecting your hand with his stubbled face. A shock of gold rippled over his face. No reaction, just the dead stare of a killer.

Bucky let out a deep scream of agony. It felt like half his face was melting off, searing his skin. You were now on top of him, facial features growing more and more feral. It wouldn’t have been difficult to knock you off. You were throwing passionate, but imprecise hits. Like an animal dying, you didn’t seem sure what to do, you were just gifted with the knowledge that you had to do it to survive. “I’m not going to hit you,” he managed to speak between punches. His face's sharp features were now coated in a thick layer of fresh blood. Streaks smeared across his face as you repeatedly threw down your fists upon him.

The soldier wasn’t letting in. He laid there, motionless, staring back at you, taunting you. No matter what you did, how hard you hit, he was unbreakable. You screamed out in anger as your stamina slowed. The exhaustion was quickly catching up, but you couldn’t quit now. Then he spoke your name. After minutes of silence he spoke your name in his gravelly voice. He never spoke before. Yet, somehow the sound seemed familiar.

You had your firsts stalled mid punch. Your breath was ragged as you hovered over him, straddling him so he couldn’t get away. Bucky saw the milkiness slowly fade from your eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered sweetly, “No one is ever going to hurt you again.” His face was soar as he spoke, bottom lip busted from the countless blows you provided. It didn’t matter how long it took, he wasn’t going to lay a finger on you. Never again.

He had spoken. The ruthless murder had spoken to you. You looked down at him in shock, unsure of what was happening. No one is ever going to hurt you again. The words reverbed through your mind. Though you stood still, he made no advances to attack you. He just layed, staring back at you, searching for something. The face grew more familiar. You had seen those eyes before, but not like this. A flash of his lips smiling. The feel of his hand lovingly cupping around yours. The warmth his body provided next to yours on the piano bench. The coffee, the arguing, the forgiveness. Floodgates broke and it all came back. The snow dissipated, you could now see you were still in a basement. There was no more Winter Soldier; there hadn’t been in a long time.

“Bucky?” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. You knew what you had to do. You had to act hastily, Bernie hadn’t realized you had broken from your trance yet. With every last fiber of your strength you let out one last spell. It filled the entire damp basement with a glowing golden light, entrapping Bernie’s body with a bright shine.

The air from Bernadette’s lung was drawn out ferociously. You had used the last bit of power you had in you to literally take her breath away. It was awful and if you could have ended it another way, you would have. Your body didn’t have the strength though. A simple spell, yet quite useful in dire situations. You collapsed onto Bucky. There was nothing left inside of you. He cradled you against his chest as he watched the scene unfold.

Bernadette reached for her throat, face turning red as she lost air rapidly. Her body buckled as she fell onto her knees and finally her side. She attempted to speak, to get a final word in, but she was unable to manage. Now, she lay there, just feet in front of you, still. With no living magic to mask her age, her body rapidly shifted into her older version and slowly into dust. Bucky held your face closer to his chest as this all occurred, hoping to shield you from the grim sight.

She was gone. Your mission was complete.

You forced your eyelids open, looking up at a very bloodied Bucky. Your hand felt its way to one of his and gave it a weak squeeze. How ironic. You almost died because of him once, and there you were tucked in his arms, about to die again because you tried to save him. He could feel your heartbeat as he pulled you in closer.

“Hey, you have to stay with me. Okay? It’s going to be alright,” he murmured softly into your hair, one arm around you, one hand firmly grasping onto yours. You didn’t deserve to go like this. You couldn’t go like this.

“Bucky,” you tried to say, but a cough quickly interjected.

“Shhhh, shhh. Don’t push yourself. Someone’s on their way right now.” The damage done would require more than your average doctor. You both knew by the time useful help arrived, it might be too late.

“You owe me a dance.”

“Once we get you all fixed up, doll. First thing.”

“Promise me, Bucky.”

“I promise.”

“What song were you thinking of?”

“With the right partner, they’ll all be perfect.” Bucky held you tighter, scared you’d slowly start slipping through his fingers if he let go. He hoped the room was dim enough to hide the hot, salty tears streaking down his face. This is no way to go. His thumb slowly rubbed against your hand as he gently rocked back and forth.

Bucky’s super soldier serum offered a lot of advantages. Fast physical healing, super strength, everything it took to be the ideal human. His body was atune, too aware of everything happening around him, though. That was the only drawback. He had grown used to overhearing private conversations. He was accustomed to smelling burnt food from two floors away. He learned to ignore these things.

Thump.

But this time, he wanted to feel it all

Thump.

He had never held a person near enough to feel their heart.

Thump.

He had to strain his body to sense it.

Thump.

But it was there and it was beautiful.

Thump.

It was the sound of hands intertwined, the smell of home, the touch of a piano playing, the sight of feeling worthy, the taste of love.

Thump.

The feeling was heaven.

Thump.

Poet’s envied what he could sense, musicians could only dream of the profoundness the feeling offered, this was the playwright’s perfect romance. All from one simple sound.

Thump.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Silence.

“You still with me?”

Silence.

“Doll?”

-

The incredible thing about humanity is its ability to fade. Whether from sight or from memory, life can be seen as a large cycle of disappearing. Feelings also possess this wondrous gift of fading away. Within that, though, there lies forgiveness. Anger had dwindled from your soul. Your eyes no longer averted his. When your arms beckoned for him, he always came.

The recovery was a long process. Wanda had to help fix you from within. She was a gifted witch, but not a miracle worker. Patiently, for weeks, she worked to piece back together the torn pieces of your mind and body. Bucky was inseparable from you the whole time. Though unconscious for the first two weeks, he still remained by your side. He read books he thought you’d enjoy, played music he knew you’d appreciate.

It’s not like a normal coma, Bucky. She can’t hear you.

That’s okay. She will when she wants to. She can handle this.

Now there you were, pressed to Bucky’s chest. His arms wrapped gingerly around your still recuperating body as you two swayed in sync. Once you were able to walk, you insisted he kept his promise to dance with you. He didn’t hesitate to accept. Whatever he could do to see you smile again was worth it to him. Your feet stumbled over him on occasion, but he didn’t mind. You and Bucky. Bucky and you. He felt like he was dancing on sunshine as he took in every piece of your being.

“I don’t think I’m doing this right,” you laughed lightly, bumping into his foot once more.

“You’re perfect. Always.” He moved back a little so he could admire your tender stare as he spoke. “Hey, you ever find that dance partner you were talking about?”

“Yeah,” you sighed happily, “I think I finally found the right partner.”

~

A/N: Holy fuck this took so long to make. I hope you all enjoyed! All likes, reblogs, comments, and constructive criticisms are deeply appreciated. I’m super proud as this is the first long piece I’ve written and I’ve revised it like 100 times. Requests are open as well :) DM if you want to be added to the taglist or just want a friend. <3

Taglist: @itscheybaby

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA LOVE LOVE LOVE THISSSS SO GOOD!!!!! I WANT TO READ IT AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME ♥️♥️

Obsidian (Master List)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Taehyung (V)

Rating: 18+ (smut)

Warning: Murder mystery, smut

Status Complete

Summary: The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath.  All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.

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