#promise me au

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[citricacidprince]

POV: Your estranged brother shows up at your door with a pair of pre-teen twins, wwyd? 🤨

In honor of The Book Of Bill coming out and my friends getting massive Gravity Falls fixations (Which HELLLL YEAHHHH 💥💥💥) I decided I wanted to redraw my first ever Timestuck AU doodle because that AU has my heart and soul and my time traveling loving heart can never truly abandon it 💛

(Also looking back, YIKES my art style was a little funky, thank you Psychonauts for making my art look nicer <333 (this is also your sign to play Psychonauts I guess lol))

Blank versions without the text cause I really like how these came out, I think they’re pretty :]

[puppyeared]

renaissance dogys

characters belong to @canisalbus

[rubyfunkey]

The Rehabilitation of Death by @bamsara

didnt have time to clean this like i wanted but i needed to get this scene out of my head desperately. im good now

[akanemnon]

It could get worse and it DID get worse

FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[tsukk1]

sendai frogs rock band au !! 🐸🎸✨

[starry-bi-sky]

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

A procession of confessions.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[bigfatbreak]

Does Chloe tone down her direct bullying/harassment of Marinette after that day to just the dead mom jokes out of guilt, or is it more that Marinette now being homeschooled means Chloe just lost access? Also, does Lila try the whole lying/sabotaging thing on Marinette and just fail or does Marinette just not care?

Lila has no reason to sabotage Marinette because Marinette isn't threatening her little empire she wants to build. In fact, she really wants Marinette on her side BECAUSE she's not apart of the school, so she doesn't need to keep up an elaborate web of lies! She can just try to befriend a talented girl who makes AMAZING food and try to get freebies~

meanwhile, with Chloe, things got really complicated after the pool incident...

Tom was not in the mood to put up with this crap.

[cockroachesunite]

a ghost story

[damianito]

The holy trinity (close up ↴ )

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part III

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 4.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: angst but happy ending. The anticipation, the hesitation, yup it was real in this one. Not enough dialogue in my opinion but meh my brain was not braining. Bucky's scene before their official reunion.

P/S: Yeay, it's a wrap. Sorry for the delay guys. I'm still sick but feeling better, so that's a good news! This is the final part if the mini series, I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Louisiana, 2024 – New beginning

War after war, from one fight into another, Bucky finally had the chance to catch a breath for himself. With the Flagsmashers gone and Sam being the new Captain America just as Steve envisioned, there was a moment of peace for Bucky's tortured soul to finally rest.

He sat at the deck area of Sam's ship, watching the sun meets the ocean over the horizon, occasionally sipping on his probably fifth bottle of beer.

When he drowned himself in the memories of the events that happened these past few months, suddenly the tranquil of the sunset ahead of him doesn't interest him the least; not when a certain person had been occupying his mind.

Replaying all the twists and turns of his journey fighting those rogue group of super soldiers, one person had been but remained a mystery to him.

The Deathstalker.

It was the one puzzle piece that didn't seemed fit in the picture. As if she was plucked out entirely from a different story, a riddle that would lead him into another adventure beyond the unknown.

He still remembered the way her hands trembled against his face, tears pooling in her eyes that then fell into her mask as she muttered his name again and again.

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

The Deathstalker seemed to be taken aback by his question. Her mutterings stopped and her eyes locked on his blue ones; there was hesitation in her gaze, or a contemplation of an answer that Bucky was dying to know.

"I-- i'm--" her words stumbled as her feet dragged backwards, putting some space between herself and Bucky.

Bucky's heart stammered in anticipation, he had a gut feeling that she wasn't just someone that he had crossed path with once or twice. He could tell they had some kind of a long history, a deeper connection; Where? When? He wasn't sure. He just knew it that there was something special between them, especially when she looked at him with such eyes.

But before she could give a definite answer, multiple groups of bounty hunters started to re-gather in their area. Zemo came in clutch with a car, picking up the injured Sam with the help of Sharon.

Bucky can hear Sharon's voice yelling out his name yet he didn't move an inch and within minutes they were surrounded by the hunters.

What was it that gave him such courage to court death just to hear her answer? Was it just purely out of curiosity or was it some kind of delusional hope that intrigued his soul?

Y/N looked around to assess their dire situation before gazing up at the taller. She knew this wasn't the best time for the truth and her hesitation only makes it worst.

But when, Bucky held out his hand towards her, "Come with us." there was a strong pull that made her wanted to just give in and take his hand. "Come with me."

And Bucky didn't know why he reached out for her, but it felt right. She glanced in between his hand and his pleading eyes, her own hand twitching, almost submitting to her desire but the last minute she decided to stand on her ground.

Y/N ended up turning her back and fled away, leaving her lover's hand hanging and his question unanswered.

Through the time that Bucky was deep in his memories, he may or may not have unintentionally bored his gaze towards Sarah's direction, which only triggered Sam into a protective brother that he is, "Don't flirt with my sister." He warned.

Bucky briefly scoffed and denied his accusations, "I'm not." He sipped on his bottle as he averted his gaze away.

The look on Sam's face seemed like he was trying to glare into Bucky's soul; he was skeptical with the his deflection. But the brunette only rolled his eyes in response as he spoke, "Seriously. I'm not interested." He continued before Sam couldn't interject, "Not that there's anything wrong with her.. it's just..." 

Seeing Bucky's struggles to find an excuse, Sam curiously quirked, "It's just that you already have a girl in mind?" He suggested.

There was a hint of softness in Bucky's smile when he ran his thumb across the glossy sticker of the bottle, "I had a girl." He spoke dearly as his eyes diluted into another spiral of scattered memories of his past lover, "I had the best girl."

Since the truth that was unfolded in Madripoor, Y/N had been keeping tabs on Bucky. At first, she couldn't believe it. She had to put everything about the super soldier serum on hold, to uncover more of Bucky's survival.

As it turn out, he managed to survive the fall from the train back in 1945 and had been brainwashed into a lethal weapon for Hydra for years after that.

His identity had been a secret for decades but since the fall of Hydra a few years back, the whole world knew who the Winter Soldier was. However, the people in the underground world was much fond of his villain's name, rather than the name of a war hero when it comes to addressing him.

Therefore, the lack of use of his real name had been one of the reason why Y/N was not aware of his existence. Not to mention, when he made his first public appearance when the bombing at Washington D.C. happened, she was determined to leave anything related to her past life behind and was trying to live a new life away in Singapore.

Then, a few years after that, when she came back to New York during the first year of the blip, Bucky was unfortunately, one of the people who vanished.

But, those things doesn't matter anymore now that she knew he was alive. Her Bucky. Her James. He's alive. Y/N couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, this overjoyed. That night, she couldn't sleep very well; not when her heart was working overtime all through the night.

Ever since then, she had been lurking around Bucky and Sam most of the time. Besides, her own mission of making sure the super soldier serum doesn't fall into the wrong hands and to put an end to the Flagsmasher, Y/N was also there just to see Bucky.

She couldn't help it.

Imagine living a somewhat immortal life without a piece of your heart for decades. Withering to the fact that you can never see your lover, not in life nor in death; Or spending days and nights, missing and longing for his soul to be one with yours again.

And then suddenly discovering he was still alive.

Of course, she would use any excuse to see him every single day without fail. But at the same time, she didn't want to make things more complicated than it already was. With the crisis of the vigilante super soldiers, she didn't think it would be wise to reveal herself to Bucky anytime soon.

So, she stayed in the shadows instead, refuse to make herself known to Bucky. Whether as the Deathstalker or as Y/N.

Except for that one time that she decided to help him.

Bucky looked around the parking lot, trying to make a decision on which vehicle would be easiest for him to hijack. That was when he heard her signature robotic voice, "Hey, sarge!" She yelled.

He followed her voice upwards to see her feet dangling in the air, as she sat on the edge of the metal of the fire escape stairs. He hadn't seen her since their first encounter at Madripoor, "You..." Bucky whispered quietly.

Now that he thought about it, did she just call him by his title?

She titled her head to the side, "Do you require any assistance, sargent?" She asked nonchalantly as if they have been buddies for years.

Yup, she did used his title. 

Bucky's signature frown only deepened when she insinuated a jest-like tone. He wasn't sure whether she was trying to appear friendly in order to help him or slow him down. So be safe, his defense went up when he straighten his back into a stance.

When Y/N saw how his guard changed, she decided to get straight to the point, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James" she leaned as if it'll close the distance between them.

She wondered if her words trigger a memory in him; after all, she did use the similar sentence in 1943 when Steve rescued him from Hydra's captivity. But the lack of response from Bucky told her otherwise. Perhaps, it was too long of past for him to remember, or it wasn't significant enough for him.

Bucky's brows quirked when she yelled, "Heads up." and his hand rose up to catch whatever it was she threw down at him.

Y/N briefly titled her head forward as she spoke, "Far left. The black bike." In which Bucky briefly followed her directions, to indeed see a black bike parked at the spot.

Bucky wordlessly turned his head back and gaze up at her with a questioning look on his face. He couldn't see her behind that mask she was wearing but if he could, he would've see her smiling, "You need it more than I do."

It has been a few months since that night. And she was still lurking somewhere in the dark. Everywhere he goes, she will be right around the corner; watching, observing.

Even now, when she found herself standing on one of the boardwalk in Louisiana, near where Sam's boat resides. There was no denying that she was sort of being a creep, basically stalking Bucky from where she was standing.

From this distance, she could see that Bucky was having the time of his life entertaining the kids with his left arm; or maybe the kids were, when they compete each other on how long they can last hanging from the vibranium metal.

Y/N just had to smile seeing him happy like this. Her heart bloomed with warmth that she never thought she would ever had the chance feel again. Bucky looked as if he was finally at peace, and that made her doubt if it was a good idea to insert herself in his life now.

She believed that he deserve a happy ending. After all he had gone through all those years, he should be able to have the luxury of having a completely new life, a new beginning. Away from the past that are just filled with painful memories and dreadful suffering. To find love again and live a long happy life where she is nothing but a distant memory.

He deserve that.

But is that what she truly wanted?

Brooklyn, 2024 – Truth Untold

"That'll be $25, sir." The red-haired smiled as she handed Bucky his usual order. He paid accordingly as he took it off her hands and walked out of the cozy little shop at the corner of the busy city street.

His gloved hand gripped onto the stem of the bouquet, as his dark and tall silhouette slithered through the crowd. Everybody seemed to be entranced with whatever it was on the screen of their phones, while Bucky felt like he was out of place and time with arrangement of primroses in his hands.

The hustle bustle of the city slowly transitioned into a much calmer and quieter scenery. He walked passed the rusty, almost deteriorating entrance gate, nodding to the old ground keeper as he passed by. He knew he could get lost if he doesn't keep his focus, yet his eyes remained on the petals of the flowers, gambling his trust in his feet to bring him to the only spot they recognized.

"Hey, doll." Bucky greeted, gripping on the stem a little tighter as he read the name of his lover on the worn-looking headstone. Months of cleaning and tending her grave, it still looked grey and sombre compared to when he first visited; but that tends to happen to a grave is been left out since the 70's.

He lowered into a crouching position and placed the flowers in front of the headstone, "I'm sorry I've been missing some weeks on ya. Duty calls." Bucky knew that wasn't a good excuse to miss their dates but the Flagsmashers events had caused him to skip this little Tuesday routine of his.

As depressing it might sound, he missed coming here.

Besides going to therapy, this has been the only place where Bucky talks the most about his feelings. Though it might be completely a one-sided conversation, but he could spend hours talking to her. Telling her anything and everything that's been going on in that pretty head of his. No matter how scrambled and messy it was up there.

Bucky traced his fingers to the words engraved in the stone; it read 'Beloved daughter, sister, aunt, and friend.' Each title were delightful as they were but then again, she could've been 'a lovely wife' and 'a great mother', but she didn't.

"Why didn't you?" Bucky whispered quietly. "I just know that men must've been thrilled chasing after you, begging on their knees for your hand." He chuckled as he remembered all those times when his friends would ogle over her whenever he brought her out for a dance, "And you'd be a wonderful mother too." Knowing her gentle nature and how the kids in the hospital adored her, he just knew she would be.

His heart pierced painfully to think that she might have grown old alone, and died without family of her own. "You should've live a happy life, y/n. Marry a good man, build a family." Tears that pooled started to drip from the corner of his eyes, each tore an aching sob from his throat, "And I wished I could've be there with you."

It wasn't rare for Bucky to cry during his visits to Y/N's grave. He is the most vulnerable when he's with her; even in death, being around her has been comforting for his soul.

Y/N could clearly hear the sound of his sniffles when she stood closer to him like this. She spend day after day, gathering the courage and figuring out what to say if she ever confronted Bucky.

But in the end, the fact that Bucky was just within her reach, living, breathing; it broke whatever plan she had in her mind.

It still felt like a dream. A lucid one.

Bucky knew that was someone standing behind him; but he felt no sorts of vendetta from the person and if they mean him any harm, they would've done it sooner. He roughly stroke his palm across his face in effort to hide the tears streaks away and took a deep breath as he stood on his feet.

Whoever he had in mind, well it was definitely not that person who was standing behind him right now. It totally caught him off guard when he saw the Deathstalker standing in front of him instead of any other familiar faces.

Though her identity was still hidden, but instead of her combat attire, she was in a much comfortable clothes. Casual sneakers, basic jeans, an oversize sweater, its hood pulled over her head and a soft cloth mask covering her lower face.

Despite the change of style, her eyes were still the same. Big, bright and Bucky could only describe them to be filled with curiosity and concern as they looked up at him. He could feel the burn from the drag of her gaze on each part of his features; the softness of his lips, the red of his nose and especially the puffiness of his eyes.

He broke the silence when he started the conversation, "I assume that you're not going to fight me." He said, "At least you don't look like you're equipped for it..." Bucky pointed out the obvious.

Y/N took a few seconds of silent blinking before she responded with a shook of her head.

The lack of verbal response somehow caused him to feel slightly awkward. Rubbing the back on his neck, Bucky titled his head to the side, "So... you're here for your bike?" He asked. He still hold on to the bike that she lend to him, though it was back at his place, if that's what she wanted.

Her eyes curved into a pair of crescent moons, a side effect of a smile that Bucky couldn't see. She shook her head again to deny his speculation.

Bucky pointed out at the graveyard around them when he asked, "Uhh...are you here for a visit too?" He doubt it but it was worth to try.

Y/N looked over his shoulder, reading the familiar name engraved on the headstone behind him, before locking her eyes back to his. She shook her head yet again.

Bucky was starting to get why Sam felt annoyed with his staring problem now that he had first hand experience. Though she wasn't glaring at him like Bucky would at Sam, but still, she was staring at him most of the time. And the lack of words made it more noticeable. "You don't talk much do you?" He asked, there was a hint of passive-aggressive in his tone.

And Y/N recognized that tone anywhere. She was surprised that that part of him hasn't change since the 40's. She remembered how Bucky would use this tone whenever he was irritated but he didn't want to be a jerk and yell out his frustration.

The fact that she still managed to notice this little quirks of his after all these years made her chuckle amusingly. There wasn't a voice changer now, it was just her voice; raw and unfiltered. And even if it was muffled behind the cloth of her mask, her laugh sounded awfully familiar to Bucky.

It sounded pretty and soft, that it tickled something in deep within his chest but not enough to trigger any memory from his subconscious, "Then, what are you doing here?" He asked curiously.

It took a moment of blinking silence before Y/N grabbed onto the fabric of her hood; she pulled it back and it revealed her long, slightly wavy hair . Bucky watched intently as her index finger slipped into the tiny slot at the side of her nose, hooking it on the fabric of her mask.

And those mere seconds of hesitation triggered the tears to form in her eyes. Her heart beating fast, tiredlessly pumping blood through the veins of her body yet her fingers still runs cold with fear.

Between the thumping sound of her own heartbeat, she might have second guessed her own decision of revealing her identity. Thinking that maybe it was best to leave the truth untold. Because what if Bucky refused to believe her?

It would truly destroy her; this time, beyond repair.

Y/N briefly closed her eyes as she breathed in, she then pulled the mask down to reveal her face. The crack in her voice betrayed the smile that curved on her trembling lips, "I'm here for you." She finally spoke.

The upward movement of muscle around her cheeks pushed her tears out, letting it flow from the corner of her eyes. She didn't dare to look at him in the face for too long, so her eyes casted downwards to where her feet dug the ground.

Decades passed and it might have been several lifetimes for Y/N since the 40's but it only felt like it was yesterday for Bucky. Especially when he had lived many years of his life to either be awake for the Winter Soldier or asleep in the freezing chambers.

All of which were just scattered of loose memories to him now. It haunted him, yes. But sometimes he couldn't tell if it was just a series of nightmares or actual reality. Thus, he tends to feel as if he had lost his sense of time. That is why he always felt out of place in the modern society.

Inside, he felt like he was still the man he was in the 40's; just thrusted forward in time. And since he started to tap into the memories of himself in those olden times, it made him felt like it hasn't been that long for Bucky since he last saw her.

Yes, he felt like it was just short distance of time but his soul certainly didn't feel the same. It had been deprived of its other half for far too long.

All the images of their time together flashed rapidly through his mind; every touch, every kiss, every laughter and even every tears they ever shared, all came rushing in like untamed waves crashing to the shore.

The beautiful strings of chaos in his head hadn't calm the slightest, in fact it pushed Bucky to move forward; to catch her silhouette before it could disappear on him like the way it always does in his dreams.

Y/N's vision was blocked when Bucky smushed her face to his chest, trapping her in an unbreakable embrace as he whispered her name, "y/n?"

Was he talking to her or was he talking to himself? Because he didn't stop muttering her name as if it was some sort of a ritual chanting.

Bucky's hand briefly roamed her body from the back of her head, barely passing her shoulders, across the spine and then folded around her waist, drawing her in; impossibly closer.

That was when she felt his body shake; much like herself, Bucky was crying for the lost time that they will never make back, for the pieces of hearts broken in those decades that they lived without one another.

Bucky had witness some unbelievable things throughout his long life on this earth; lots of mind-boggling creation of man-made technology, actual magic and sorcerers, aliens and literal Gods.

He should know that nothing is impossible. Yet, holding Y/N in his arms felt unbelievably surreal to him.

Before she managed to draw in the air, her body felt the need to melt into his form. She can feel his firm grasp around her frame, and feel how rapid his heart beating on her cheek.

At that moment, she couldn't help but to find resemblance of him to his past habits; he way he holds her, how his fingers would occasionally dance across her body, or how his nose would nudge into her hair.

Even his scent remained the same. At least the essence of it were unchanged.

Being in his arms reminded her of the whispers of promises Bucky made to her, "You promised to come home." Y/N tried to steady her breath, "You promised to come back to me."

Bucky pulled her head back, cradling her face in the contrast of his hands; one was once warm and another that felt familiar. He desperately wiped her tears away with his thumbs, almost too rough of a caress but surprisingly it brought more relief than pain to her.

Even in the sorrow and grief, anger managed to slipped through when she growled, "You dickhead, you left me behind." Though it was weak, her punches still hits the target perfectly.

Repeatedly slamming her tiny fists on his sturdy chest. The chest that were caged with heavy remorse and regret. And there wasn't really anything he could say to sooth the pain that she felt when he died.

Bucky knew that, but he had to say something, anything, "I-doll, I'm so sorry..." He was drowning her with his eyes, flooding her heart with his tears as his hand ran through her hair. Soft as he remembered it to be; at least compared from the lucid dreams she was starring in.

"Shhh!" Y/N hushed him quickly, "Just please..." her breath shuddered when she inhaled.

She didn't spend most of her lifetimes to hear an apology, not from him. If anything, he should swear on his life to never leave again, to stay this time around and always. She tugged him closer, lips hovering over each other's, just one nudge away to finally get the sweet taste of it, "...never again."

And when he kissed her, it tastes of her tears. But it was beyond fulfilling. Like their lost soul were finally being able to touch again. The gentle need, the tender crave of his kiss was enough to forge her trust back into its former glory.

And all of the sudden Bucky felt like he was drowning again; like he was desperate to breathe and she was the air. He kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he needed the taste of her lips to survive the waves; like she was his lighthouse in dark.

When they finally set apart, she wanted to speak but all she can do was croak, "Don't leave me, not again." Bucky's lips curved into a loving smile and he nods once. He folded her frame in his arms, tightly and closely; his whisper was ever-so-soft when he promised, "Never."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Did you notice two dialogue throwback from when Bucky was rescued in 1943? "I didnt come all the way here to fight with you, James" and "I'm here for you" Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. Thanks for reading and maybe tell you what you think?

[angelpuns]

Kid Leo Au: New Normal Part 2: "Training"

Part 9

Leo has decided that they feel like family enough to once again be a little shit and be troublesome, so that's some growth I guess!! Yay for growth!!! Also once again these ar some of the changes that I had mentioned before - I just wanted Leo to get to be a little shit again :) He deserves it :)

(Also I did forget his glasses in the last panel I didn't mean toooo!! It was gonna happen eventually ;-;)

NEXT TIME ON KID LEO.....WILL LEO FINALLY UNLOCK HIS NINPO AND RETURN TO HIS REAL AGE? STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT!

Kid Leo Au Masterpost | First | Next

[shepscapades]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [PART 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Part 4 is finally here!! The last few months got so busy, but I would be lying if i said i didn't spend almost every day daydreaming about/ wishing i could be working on this instead; this project has been such a fun break from work and i feel like each part makes me crazier and crazier as things gets worse and worse (better and better) LOL. The composition has been sooo fun to play with, and I've been having a blast trying to figure out how to write these guys in character despite the angst and chaos :] And, considering this comic project kinda came out of nowhere and disrupted some other comic plans i had for dbhc, finding little ways to rearrange how i'm presenting lore has been really fun >:3

[This comic is part of my dbhc au, following the chaos and panic that ensues after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of s9 after a very rough s8 finale that leaves him a little. broken. It's set to the vibes of Joywave's Destruction!]

[ane-doodles]

Happy Valentines day~

[caelanglang]

Happy Lunar New Year!

here's a lil comic of my skk little prince au i made a while back to greet you all :)) I hope your new year wishes come to fruition and that your year would be a blessed one <3

Anyways,,, new year shrine visit!