never let you go (1)

Summary: After losing the woman they love, Bucky and Steve make a desperate decision with unimaginable consequences. 

Characters: Stucky x Reader Warnings: Heavy angst. Brief character death (with a return). Violence, blood, demons, and gore. SMUT (m/f/m, brief m/m, masturbation). An appearance by everyone’s favorite Hunters (SPN crossover).

Prompt: “Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.”

A/N: This is my submission for the fantastic @sherrybaby14​ for Sherry’s Fall Into You challenge, thanks babe for hosting. This is a dark story fam, different than my usual writing. Bucky and Steve really do make some bad decisions, so please heed the warnings. This is a short series, only 2-3 parts.

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Looking back, it happened so fast.

Night was stealing over the horizon when the mission was officially called. Bad guys in handcuffs, team members safe, the world still turning. On the roof of a nearby office building, you stood between Bucky and Steve, smiling in relief.

Smiling, smiling, smiling.

You were smiling right before the bomb went off.

Later, Bucky remembers the shock on your face, the shape of Steve’s mouth screaming. He remembers that swoop in his belly, the weightless feel of wild loops on a rollercoaster. He remembers your piercing cry as the floor gave way beneath three pairs of boots, bodies knocking together in a choking sea of crumbling concrete and screeching steel.

And when the smoke cleared, when your broken fingers found his and Bucky saw your lips stained with sticky red, he knew instantly. He knew and he knew you knew. You’d seen enough injuries to recognize death when it beckons. Steve was shouting, clambering over a broken wall, fighting through piles of debris to where you lay pinned beneath the unforgiving stone. He collapsed beside you, trembling soot-smudged fingers cupping your face.

No more than a minute passed. Sixty short seconds of breaking and bleeding and screaming, now stretching into an unending lifetime of regret. One minute more, before your small sips of breath slow into nothing. They stay with you until the end, each with their hands on you, comforting and pleading to stay, please stay, we love you, please don’t leave.

But Death cares little for love.

When they emerged from the ruins, Steve carried your broken body, Bucky staggering numbly behind. The world shifts.

Three days later, comes the funeral. Black suits, black dresses, black casket. A rainbow of flowers for a life overflowing with love and laughter. The formalities of grief are observed, those unfailingly dependable motions polite society demands.

Steve, ever the stalwart public figure, does most of the work. Shaking hands and speaking quietly and nodding gravely at words of condolence. On the fringes of the crowd, away from the crush of sympathy Bucky stands pale and hidden. Despite concern and questions, not a single word has passed his lips since that day.

Finally it ends, the last well-wisher is whisked into the night, and they’re left alone. Two men shattered by tragedy, hearts burning with a soul consuming love for a woman they couldn’t save.

Before a crackling fire, Steve sits slumped in your favorite chair. Cocooned in silent misery, red-rimmed eyes wide and unseeing, he holds a heavy crystal tumbler loose in his hand.

When he sucks in a sharp, strangled breath, Bucky looks over.

The tumbler slips from Steve’s hand, bouncing soundlessly on the plush grey rug and he stands quickly, stumbling toward the fireplace. The flames are strangely welcoming, translucent beams of fractured light breaking through the room.

“Get it off,” he suddenly chokes out. Panic bleeds off him in waves, and he yanks at his tie. The knot tightens and Steve begins to sweat, voice rising higher. “Get it off, now, get it off, get it all off! Please! Please Bucky, please!”

Startled, Bucky leaps up. He pulls the jacket down Steve’s flailing arms and watches in confusion as Steve strips off the rest.

Tie, shirt, belt.

Trousers, boxers, socks.

Ripping the jacket dangling from Bucky’s fingers, Steve rolls everything into a ball and shoves it into the fireplace. Flames lick along his hands, instantly scalding his fingertips with angry red blisters, but he pays no attention. The fire is quick to take, wrapping everything in ringlets of blue and orange, greedily devouring the gift.

As he stands naked in the living room, Steve begins to shiver.

“I don’t know if I can - can do this. Heartache is one thing, but this…this is worse.” he gasps. He crouches on the floor, puts his head between his knees. “This is worse, this is - this is fu-fucking worse.”

Shadows dance through the room while the fire consumes the remnants of the funeral suit. Good riddance of course. There’s no way on earth he’d wear those clothes again.

The wet, broken rasp of Steve’s sobs are the only sound in the room. Bucky wants to help, but there’s nothing left inside him. No reassurances, no words of relief. The solace of love that filled their home has evaporated, leaving nothing more than a wisp of memory.

*****

Their world ends, but as always - the days go by.

*****

One morning Bucky wakes up, head still full of foggy dreams. Lost happiness. He comes awake slowly, bleary eyed and so painfully hard he’s ashamed of that fact.

He sets the shower to a burning rain and stands under the deluge. Closes his eyes and lets the heat sear his skin to a sheet of bright red, trying desperately to wash away those heartbreaking dreams of you, safe and perfect in his arms. He palms himself roughly at the thought, trying to ease the ache. There’s a feeling of disgust that accompanies the touch, humiliated frustration at such a base instinct.

He tells himself he can finish it quick, make it go away. Take the edge off.

With one wet hand on slippery tile, he wraps the other around himself and jerks. He hates himself for picturing you. Beautiful lips, beautiful skin, beautiful eyes. The sound of your voice hitching, sweet sighs of pleasure when he touches your body.

He tells himself the water sluicing down his face is the shower. He tells himself he’s fine. This is stress relief. Something to relax. But when he comes all over his hand, his knees buckle and Bucky collapses, crumpling to a ball on the floor of the cavernous shower. Staring up at the ceiling, the water pelts his face until the burning heat turns icy cold.

The dampness on his face, is the shower. They are not tears. He is fine.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

*****

One evening, Steve takes a drive.

Out of Manhattan, past the safe lights of suburbia, further north until he hits the solitude of wilderness. He drives until he finds the path he knows, bumping over gnarled roots, wheels grinding pathetically in the silent night. When it ends, he gets out and continues on foot. Pushing through a dense copse of trees, swiping away the sharp branches reaching for him. He walks and walks, until he reaches what he needs.

Moonlight bathes the small clearing in a white glow, and he walks forward until he’s in the middle of the tranquil space. Cold dew soaks into his jeans when he kneels in the stubby grass, but he doesn’t notice. Tipping his head back, he looks up at the stars.

He screams. On and on and on, the sounds echoing back at him, reverberating off the wall of trees, sending sleeping birds into screeching flight. He screams and he screams, rage and grief and the raw devastation of heartbreak so potent he nearly faints. He screams when he remembers the tears in your eyes silently begging for help, and he screams at the impotence of knowing he could do nothing but watch your life bleed away. He screams for himself, for Bucky, for you. Steve screams until his voice is gone, until the soft tissue inside his throat is swollen and shredded and he spits up blood.

And then he staggers to his feet, pushing back through the trees, until he reaches his car. He climbs inside and turns for home.

He comes back the next night. And the one after that.

Again, and again, and again. Step and repeat.

*****

…and the lonely days melt into weeks…

*****

Neither man is deemed fit for combat, both stripped of duties and relegated to wait. Recover, the therapists say. Rest and recover. Work will always be there. Wait it out, until you feel normal.

Bucky punches a hole through their front door at the condescending support. As if he could wait it out. As if that’s a real thing. As if this grief will ever do anything but grind his heart to mush.

Instead of avenging, they pass the time with mundane things. Searching for purpose, finding none.

In the middle of a stormy night, with the world asleep in their beds, they find themselves in an empty gym. Sweat slick fists and knees jabbing, punching, kicking, sparing with vicious intensity. The pace is blindingly fast, sharply efficient. Back and forth they move, a deadly dance that temporarily takes their minds away from the present, from that gaping loss that will never heal.

On and on they move, until Bucky sweeps his leg and Steve misses the jump. He tumbles to the ground, and Bucky pins him neatly against the mat. Breathing hard, Steve stares up, anguish turning him inside out. He opens his mouth and Bucky already knows what’s coming.

“Steve,” he warns.

“I miss her,” Steve whispers. Misery coats the words, sticky with despair.

“Stop,” Bucky snaps. He scrambles to his feet, turns toward the door. “Don’t you fucking do this, I told you we ain’t talking about it.”

Steve climbs sluggishly to his feet. He rubs his eyes, feels the burn of pooling tears. It’s so natural these days, that prickling heat. Looking up, he sees the tense muscles in Bucky’s hunched shoulders, and he can’t stop from asking.

“Do you - do you remember when it was just the two of us? When we were enough?” he asks hoarsely, and Bucky whips around. Rushing Steve, he catches him around the waist and slams him against the padded blue wall. There’s a faint whir of shifting plates and a metal fist pounds the mat, an inch from Steve’s tear-streaked cheek. He doesn’t even flinch, staring bleakly at the rage in Bucky’s face.

Without missing a beat, Bucky grabs a handful of sweaty shirt and hauls him forward, a furious snarl preceding a bruising kiss. Steve goes easily, their lips moving in a violent rhythm against each other.

When Bucky breaks away, he spins Steve around, shoves him face first against the wall. Without a word, he yanks down Steve’s shorts and kicks his feet apart. This is the first time they’ve touched each other since that day, and the intimacy that blooms is brutal.

Rough thrusts. Quiet grunts. Sex is a race to the finish, both betting on themselves and doing everything in their power to win. Bucky fucks into him, hips snapping recklessly, and Steve wraps a hand around himself, jerking quickly. No more than a minute later and it’s over, tempers cooling like the shimmering film of sweat on their skin.

Panting harshly against Steve’s neck, Bucky answers the question, his voice hollow.

“Yeah I remember. Doesn’t matter. We won’t be again.”

*****

…on and on it goes, until weeks blur into months.

*****

Time passes, but there is no movement for them. Every step forward comes with five steps back, regressing into a despair with no end in sight. How can you hope to move on, when the best part of yourself is lost, gone, rotting away in a white marble mausoleum in a Brooklyn cemetery?

How the fuck can you survive, when the light you’ve been living for goes out?

Lying in bed one cold October night, these are the thoughts traipsing through Steve’s head. Beside him, Bucky is wrapped in an old blanket, unwashed hair fanning in dark tangles across his pillow, and for a long time, Steve watches him. He knows when the nightmares arrive. Bucky begins to shake, soft sounds slipping through clenched teeth, whimpers of a cornered dog with no way out. Steve reaches for him.

At the pressure on his arm, Bucky wakes with a strangled moan. Kicking away the blanket, he sits up, twisting to look at Steve. Sweat pours down his face, until Steve looks closer and understands.

Tears.

Chest heaving, Bucky glares at him.

“No, god dammit, fucking - fuck you,” he spits out, choked by tears. “I told you not to wake me up, never wake me up. She was there, I almost had her, she was - she was there, I could’ve - “

Shaking furiously, he scrambles out of bed, dragging the blanket behind him. Moments later, Steve flinches when the bathroom door slams so hard, the walls of their apartment shake.

The thought comes again. When every shred of hope is abandoned, when the devils of despair are hungering for your sanity, what can you possibly do? How can you go on?

There in that room, rising from the depths of hell, an idea comes.

Shadowy images fill his head, blurry mission reports and hazy pictures. A thick binder with a peculiar collection of information, full of monsters and demons and evil that goes bump in the night. Scary stories he and Bucky read as kids, huddled together under his bedspread.

Steve thinks of SHIELD letterhead and a list of names with an unfamiliar title.

Hunters, he thinks. The word ‘Hunters’ was typed at the top of that list.

He gets an idea. Steve gets a terrible, horrible, beautiful idea.

*****

North of Chicago, in a greasy diner rank with the sour scent of body odor, four men are squeezed into a red booth. The cracked vinyl is peeling away in places, sharp edges revealing yellowed stuffing and frayed threads, and when Bucky lays his arm across the back, it pinches his skin. Beside him, Steve sits stiffly, hands folded next to a chipped ceramic mug of lukewarm coffee.

Hunched across from them, shoveling syrup-soaked pancakes in his mouth, Dean Winchester thumbs over his shoulder at the chalkboard sign above the counter.

“Pig ’N a Poke. Always good.”

No one responds. An awkward silence blankets the uncomfortably full booth, until Bucky clears his throat.

“So you two -“ he motions between the two men, “you’re, what? Together?”

Swearing under his breath, Dean rolls his eyes and keeps eating. “Why the hell does everyone ask that? No. We’re brothers. God damn.”

Crammed beside Dean, Sam Winchester observes the two super soldiers. Toying with the edge of his coffee cup, he fixes them with a thoughtful stare.

“Sorry we dodged your calls, we uh, we try to stay away from SHIELD,” he says wryly. “Not much good ever comes from it.”

“Yeah, last time we got involved, you dicks got my car impounded,” Dean pipes up, spraying bits of pancake across the table. Fixing him with a dark glare, Bucky slowly wipes it off his cheek. Dean grins.

Ignoring the exchange, Steve leans forward, gripping the coffee cup to steady his nervous hands. He takes a deep breath.

“We won’t say anything. SHIELD can’t know we’re here. I read a report about - about something that happened. About something you did. It said - “ He pauses, debating his next words. They tumble out in a rush of breath. “It said you know how to make deals. With certain kinds of - people. The kind of deals that need to stay off the radar.”

Everyone in the cramped booth freezes. The pancake laden fork briefly hovers in midair, before clattering to the table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Steve gathers himself and tips his chin up.

“Not even a little.”

Dean leans back. Eyes flitting between the two men, perhaps gauging their sanity. It takes a full minute before he speaks.

“Man, you fucking superheroes are something else, you know that? I don’t know what you read in that report you found Captain, but you think there’s something you need that’s worth an eternity literally burning in hell? Is that what I’m hearing?”

Neither answers immediately. Bucky looks aside, out the dust smeared window, to the black Impala parked in front. He wonders briefly where the Winchesters found it. He always wanted one.

“We lost someone.”

At Steve’s quiet admission, Bucky turns back with a ferociously defiant expression and Sam’s eyes soften.

“Yeah. We heard about that. I’m sorry.”

Steve acknowledges the condolence with a stiff nod, while Bucky schools his face into a blank mask. Looking between the two men, Dean takes a deep breath.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened, I really am. But I’m not gonna sugar coat this for you. My suggestion? Get some god damn therapy and figure out how to move on. Me and Sammy, we’ve both been down there and this isn’t some bullshit scare tactic, or some ghost story you heard in Sunday school. This is fucking real. And it doesn’t end. Ever. This is forever. Hell is forever. Do you get that?”

“I know a thing or two about hell,” Bucky says drily, taking a sip of coffee. He feels a funny lurch in his belly when Dean levels him with a pitying stare.

“No. You don’t.”

Arms crossed on the flaking linoleum table, Bucky sits forward. “Listen kid, I’m under no illusions about my future. All the shit I’ve done, every crime, every murder, you think I don’t know where I’m ending up? No amount of heavenly forgiveness is gonna take that away. This ends bloody for me no matter what path I choose. So, enlighten me here. Why the hell shouldn’t I make it count?”

Silence hangs over the table. Beside him, Bucky feels Steve’s hand on his thigh, a comforting squeeze. He understands. For all Steve’s comments about the past not being Bucky’s fault, of course he considered this outcome.

Across the table, Sam quietly clears his throat, murmuring low.

“Dean -”

“No, this is horseshit and you know it. You can’t - “ he stops when he seems the firm resolve on both faces. And honestly? Dean Winchester has been a lost cause often enough to recognize a case when he sees one. “Fine. If you boys do this, that’s it. There’s no going back. You understand that? You are on your own. We can’t save you.”

“Yes,” Steve grits out. “We understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You make a deal like this and that’s it. There’s no get out of jail. Hell comes calling and that bitch’ll rip you limb from limb, before she drags you to rot down below.”

The words have no effect. Steve peers sideways at Bucky and finds him perfectly relaxed.

“We appreciate the concern. But we’re good.”

Mumbling all manner of obscenities under his breath, Dean digs inside his jacket until he finds a small yellow notepad and a dull pencil. Slapping it on the table, he writes. List, instructions, locations. He rips the paper out and flings it at Steve.

“This is on your heads.”

Nodding his thanks, Steve folds the paper and tucks it carefully in his pocket. The broken leather of the booth creaks and squeaks as he exits, Bucky sliding out behind him.

Side by side, they look down at the Winchester brothers. All four men have been perpetually hounded by some form of death their entire lives; it seems inevitable they would meet before the end.

Offering a faint smile, Bucky shrugs.

“Haven’t you ever loved someone so much, you’d move heaven and earth to bring them back?”

*****

Under the full moon, Steve cracks the small tin box for one final look.

A polaroid of him and Bucky. A clear glass vial of graveyard dirt from a small plot in Brooklyn. The leg bone from a black cat, a stray they saw skulking in an alley; Steve had caught it and did the dirty work there. Bucky always was a bleeding heart when it came to animals.

Crouched in the dead center of the crossroad, Bucky carves out a small hole with smooth metal fingers. When Steve hands him the box, he places it carefully, angling it just right.

Piling the dirt back over, Bucky pats it down and stands, legs suddenly shaky, heart hammering in fear. Dusting off his hands, he edges closer to Steve.

“Now what?”

Steve says nothing. He stares at the stalks of yellow flowers lining the road, waving gently in the night air, and the innocuous sight sends a shiver rippling down his spine.

“Well, well, well. Two super soldiers? This is one hell of a surprise.”

The voice is soft, gentle. Musical in a way, like windchimes on a sunny day or the faint hum of birds warbling in the morning.

It turns their blood to ice.

Both men whirl simultaneously, discovering a woman standing behind them. Dressed in a wispy white dress, dark hair falls in thick waves down her back, bottle green eyes framed by long lashes. When she smiles, a dimple appears.

Beautiful. Ethereal. The kind of woman who could lure a man into anything.

She blinks. Shining in the moonlight, the green disappears and another color slides in place. Sickeningly bright, hot as fire.

Red.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hisses, stumbling back a step back and she laughs.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

Beside him, Bucky feels Steve trembling, and he reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together. The gesture fills them both with a renewed courage, and Steve clears his throat.

“We want to - we need - we need to make a deal. There’s someone. We need to bring someone back. To life.”

She whistles, long and low. “Hmm. That’s a tall order boys. I’ll need something good to make this worth my while.”

“The deal is 10 years, right?” Steve motions between him and Bucky. “We each get 10 years, and then - then -“ he trips over the words, unable to finish the grisly statement. Amused, she lets him flounder. “Then we’re - then we’ll go.”

“Normally yes. Those are the standard terms, but for you two? I don’t know. Feels like I could get myself in trouble for taking from such - virile specimens.”

“But we want to deal,” Steve argues.

The white dress flows like water as she strolls forward. Stopping before them, she trails a finger down Bucky’s silver arm, and he shudders.

“Maybe we could come to a different arrangement. If you’re interested.”

“Like what?”

“Well boys, I think you might be worth far more above ground than below. So how about this.” Green eyes gleaming, Bucky has the gruesome sense of a spider moving silently along her web, stalking two struggling flies. “I know who you want, and I’ll bring her back, safe and sound. Deliver her right to your door, and both of you stay up here. Souls intact. For one tiny price.”

Too good to be true. Far too good. Bucky waits for the pin to drop.

“What tiny price?” he breathes.

She smiles. 

And then she answers.

Still clasping hands, Bucky feels cold sweat slicking Steve’s palm. Is this right? Can they really do this? The offer is tantalizing, another level of evil they have yet to fully comprehend. But Bucky knows his mind, what he’s willing to give, and he knows Steve feels the same.

There is no question.

“Deal.”

“Takes a kiss to seal it,” she whispers. Moving close, she curls a hand behind Steve’s neck and pulls his face down. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth drawn in a tight line, he waits it out, a full body shiver rattling his tall frame. Her fingers run through his sweaty blond hair, and he feels sick to his stomach at the way her fingernails scratch so invitingly along his scalp. When she’s had enough, she breaks away in a huff of feigned disappointment.

“Less than inspiring Captain.” Turning to Bucky, she offers a sly smile. “How about you, Soldier? Got anything better?”

Bucky steels himself, as she rises on her toes and presses her mouth to his. He keeps his eyes open, staring forward, and lets her have the kiss, feels her run her tongue along the seam of his lips, a brazen request for more. Parting his lips, he tastes the cloyingly sweet scent of her breath, feels her rub against him, the cool damp of her tongue licking along his teeth.

Forcing himself to disconnect from the moment, he wonders how a kiss can feel so utterly wrong. He wants to turn heel and run, but he’s suddenly and overwhelmingly terrified she might rescind the deal. That she might snatch this burgeoning hope from their begging hands and return to her corner of hell.

So, he lets her have the kiss. Right now, the hideous truth is that he’d give her anything she asked, if it meant he gets you back.

Finally she pulls away, running her fingers down his chest.

“Much better. Now - kiss each other.” Confused, they look at each other and back to her. The seriousness of the request fades and she laughs. “Kidding. Two pretty boys like you, how can I help myself?”

Stepping back, her eerily musical laughter still dancing on the wind, she vanishes.

The night is silent.

Bucky staggers to the yellow flowers and vomits all over them.

*****

Driving along the lonely stretch of highway, they sit in silence. Each wrestling with newfound demons, now more than metaphorical.

“Do you think it worked?” Steve asks, voice hushed and rough.

Bucky stares straight ahead, watching the night zip by, illuminated asphalt between twin beams of light. He says nothing.

*****

Their front door still has a patch on the outside, where Bucky slammed his fist through the wood. It swings quietly when Steve pushes it open, clicking on the hall light. They drop their bags in the entry, walking through the dark apartment.

“But when would we know, that’s what I don’t -“

Steve stops so abruptly, Bucky trips into him from behind.

“Dammit Steve, what - “

In the armchair by the window, sits a familiar silhouette. Barefoot, wearing a long-sleeved blue t-shirt and jeans, someone turns to face them.

Shocked silence billows out, thick and bottomless. There’s a strangled gasp and Steve flings out an arm, blocking Bucky from running at you.

“Wait,” he hisses, “Buck, just - just wait.”

Bewildered, you watch their cautious movements, small shuffles inching closer. When they’re two feet away, Steve stops them again.

“Hold out your hand,” he whispers raggedly, and you stare in confusion. He shakes his head, still holding Bucky back with one arm and motions for your hand. Extending it slowly, you offer it palm up. Steve fishes out a small bottle from his pocket, trembling fingers flipping the lid, and with a deep breath, he splashes holy water all over your hand.

He cringes, waiting.

Nothing.

Staring curiously at the innocent water droplets, you look up.

“Steve, what is this? What’s happening?”

At the sound of your exhausted voice, a broken howl rips from Bucky’s throat and he barrels past Steve. Falling at your feet, he wraps his arms tight around your waist and buries his face against your belly, his shoulders shaking with the hurricane force of his wrenching sobs. Gentle fingers comb through his tangled hair, while you calm him with meaningless words, the soothing syllables priceless simply because they’re yours.

Over the sound of Bucky’s tears, Steve comes closer. He traces the curves of your face, over your forehead, down your nose, brushing your lips. It worked, he thinks, and fierce relief sweeps through him. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he presses his mouth to your temple, inhaling the clean scent of your skin.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.”

*****

For the next three days, you do nothing but sleep. Small breaks between sleep and awake to eat the chicken noodle soup Bucky brings, the pastrami sandwich Steve cuts into small squares, a chocolate chip cookie fresh from the oven.

At first, they worry. Did they fuck up the deal? Was something else wrong? Were you sick? Eventually, they understand coming back to life is not as simple as waking up and picking up where you left off.

So, they let you sleep, drawing the bedroom curtains into darkness, fluffing up the pillows whenever you stumble to the bathroom, keeping the glass on the nightstand filled with cool water. They linger outside the bedroom door, propped against the wall and watching each other, impatiently patient.

In the middle of the night on the fourth day, Bucky jolts awake. Sleepy and befuddled, his heart sinks. Was it another dream? His mind playing tricks? Listening, he waits and waits and waits, and suddenly, he hears it again.

No, this is not a dream. This is real.

He hears you calling.

“Bucky? Steve?”

Scrambling to his feet, he kicks Steve awake and drags him up. Together, they crack open the bedroom door, a dim sliver of hall light illuminating the sight. There you are, curled in a ball along the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you whisper hoarsely, pulling the blanket tighter. They creep closer, kneeling together beside the bed to look in your eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. “Did you need something?”

The question comes with such tenderness, your heart swells. What you needed, was to ask them what happened. What did they do? How did it happen? What did it cost? You know the grim reality of whatever magic they used to bring you back will have consequences. Selfish magic always does.

These are the things you should ask, the things you need to know. But in this moment, with these two extraordinary men watching you with such breathless reverence, the intensity of a different emotion strikes like lightning. It surges through your veins, a liquid fire craving to feel them, inside and out.

Nothing else matters. The truth can wait.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper instead.

“Anything,” he breathes instantly, Steve nodding helpfully.

“Can you kiss me?” you whisper and Bucky blinks, surprised. Glancing at Steve, he hesitates briefly, before leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes soft, a faint hint of minty toothpaste on his breath.

When he breaks away, you slip a hand behind his neck. He swallows hard at feel of your fingers digging into his skin and leans helplessly into the touch.

“Honey - “ he starts, but you cut him off.

“Kiss me again. Mean it this time.”

At your demand, dark lust fills his face. Eyes flicking back and forth, he appears to gauge the request, making absolutely sure you’re sure, and then -

He devours you.

Shoving you back into the mess of pillows, he climbs onto the bed, mouth slanting hungrily over yours. Teeth bumping, tongue sliding along yours, he holds your face between his palms, damp skin and cool metal. He kisses so long and deep, so thorough and full of passion, it leaves you gasping for air.

“Better?” he murmurs, and for the first time since the day you died, since that moment your soul flew beyond his reach, the faint flicker of a smile tugs his lips.

The kiss does nothing to calm the tide. It makes your skin sizzle, lust sweeping through your body.

“I need you. Both of you. Please,” you breathe, tugging frantically at your shirt, a feverish desperation for the blazing heat of their skin against yours.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks hoarsely, blunt tipped fingers gripping your hip so tight you feel a bruise already forming. There is no pain though, only the comforting pressure of intimate familiarity. “We don’t have to do anything, not yet, not - not ever.”

“Please,” you plead again. “Please. It’s been so long, I missed you, don’t - don’t let me leave you, please Steve, please don’t let me go again.”

At your tearful words, Steve genuinely believes he feels his heart break. All he knows, all he will ever know again, is a burning need to fix this. To keep you and Bucky safe from everything, no matter the cost.

“Never. Never again,” he vows, and beside him, Bucky echoes the promise.

“Never, sweetheart. We’ll never let you go.”

The simplicity of a remembered intimacy comes naturally. Steve settles against the headboard and pulls you between his legs, tossing away your shirt and peppering kisses across your back, over your shoulders, up your neck. Wide hands stroke up along your ribcage, cupping your breasts. It makes you twitch when he gently pinches your nipples, teeth nipping at your ear.

Bucky slides your panties off and settles between your legs, easing them open. Warm breath brushes over your clit and then he licks a firm strip between your folds. At your low moan, he slowly pushes two fingers inside you, twisting and rubbing until sparks crackle along your skin.

“Keep going, oh god, keep going.”

Bracketed between Steve’s thighs, one hand tangled in Bucky’s dark hair, your hips push up to meet every stroke of his tongue, writhing as he holds you down. Steve’s hands are ceaseless, rubbing your breasts, circling your nipples, tugging lightly as he leaves small bites along your neck.

“There you go baby, that’s it,” he whispers. “Keep watching him, don’t look away.”

Eyes on the ceiling, you force yourself to look down, at the man nestled snug between your legs. His dark hair falls over his forehead, blue eyes burning you to ash.

“Bucky,” you rasp, powerless against the onslaught of pleasure, “Steve. Please.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips, something he never expected to hear again, sends Bucky into a frenzy. Tongue flicking faster, he pumps his fingers harder, the vibration from his moan pulsing against your clit and everything shatters.

Arching up, the orgasm crests and breaks, white noise blanking your mind. Incoherent cries fill your ears, over and over, until you recognize the sound of your own voice, a repetitious prayer crafted from the only three words that will ever matter.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

They answer, of course. In perfect fashion, with perfect rhythm.

Steve pulls your boneless, shuddering body higher, and Bucky opens your legs wider, letting Steve ease into your pussy from behind. He groans at the feel, the silky wet heat gripping him, and clutches your back tight to his chest. Rocking his hips up, he moves your body easily, thrusting deep. The delicious sound of his soft grunts fill your ear and it reignites the throbbing ache between your legs.

Bucky crawls up until he straddles you both, his tongue curling around your nipple, licking, sucking, tugging delicately with his teeth. He frees your hand, the one digging into Steve’s thigh, and wordlessly coaxes it between his legs. Wrapping sweaty fingers tight around his cock, you stroke him, following the rhythm Steve sets.

It feels so easy, the three of you moving in tandem, both men thrusting faster, harder, rougher, until you come once more, and just like always, they follow to a stuttering end right behind.

Bucky.

Steve.

Please.

Yes, these three words are the only ones you think you’ll ever need.

****

Sated, the three of you lay together. Bucky in his favorite place, forehead tucked against your breasts, his arm curved around your waist. Steve warm and solid, molded head to toe along your back, his arm slung around you both, fingers lazily twirling Bucky’s hair.

Beyond the curtains, darkness remains. Now, with your body exhausted and comforted by their presence, if becomes easier to whisper the question.

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm?” Steve murmurs, drifting toward the balm of sleep. Bucky says nothing, simply snuggles closer, his steady breaths puffing warm on your skin.

“I remember what happened.” Softly the confession falls. “Please don’t lie to me. Tell me how you did it. How you brought me back.”

Both men stiffen. Bucky stops breathing. Steve stops stroking his hair. Dread fills you, cold as ice. You know then, whatever price they’ve paid? It will tear the world apart.

Breath tickling the back of your neck, Steve murmurs so quietly, you strain to hear.

“We made a deal.”

*****

Part 2

*****

Haunted House

Summary: For @sherrybaby14 ‘s Halloween challenge. My prompt was the quote, “That costume is becoming on you. Of course, if I were on you I’d be cumming too.” I mean the plot is that an Omega gives into her nature to two hot Alphas. Oh, and the house may or may not be haunted. :D Pairing: Omega!Fem Reader x Alpha!Tony x Alpha!Steve Rating: Explicit Words: 2,698 Warnings (for the whole fic): Smut, ABO dynamics, dub-con, some horror

Masterpost

You walked up the stone staircase to the house, eyes flittering over all the windows. The house loomed, as if it could see through your very being. It was gorgeous in architecture, weaving stone and stained-glass windows. But, you knew there were stories about it being haunted. It excited you that you were going to be able to stay the night here.

Heels clicking on the stairs, you adjusted your bag, clearing your throat. You had been invited to come here by your employer, Tommy. He said the owner had requested you specifically and you had not asked questions when you saw the first part of the payment. It was lofty and you needed the money.

All that had been required was you to come with a bottle of alcohol, two days’ worth of clothes – although you were not required to stay for the two days –, and a risqué Halloween costume. A sexy, maid is what you had gone for; it seemed appropriate in this house. All lace with a nice black bow at the small of your back.

Suitcase at your side, you threw your coat off, hanging it on the coatrack by the door. You were getting overwhelmed as your eyes traveled the ceiling and walls of the mansion.

“Welcome.”

You knew that voice all too well and crossed your arms when you turned around, facing the billionaire pouring you a drink. He was dressed suave as always, even in joggers and a sweater. He was always effortlessly attractive.

How could your employer not have told you who had requested you specifically?

Smirking at you, he sauntered over, holding out one of the drinks to you. “Serving others seems to be your niche. That costume is becoming on you. Of course, if I were on you I’d be cumming too.”

No matter how much you found him attractive, you were not going to let him forget last time. You could not forget last time… mainly how you had had a hard time with not liking how he had handled you before. Even now, you felt a pull towards him… desire blossoming.

“Really? Again, Mr. Stark?”

“Please, Tony. But, at least you can remember some manners,” Tony stated, stalking closer. You stiffened and he smirked at you, holding the glass out. “Babydoll, come on. I’m sorry I got handsy last time.”

“Handsy?” you scoffed. He had handcuffed you to the bed and fucked you relentlessly.

“You’re too tempting for me,” Tony stated. “I was in a bit of a rut and you drive me a little insane. And I’m always a little rougher when I’ve imbibed too much. And I had that night. I’m sorry. Really. I wanna make it up to you.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you asked, “By inviting me to a creepy mansion?”

Tony cocked his head and said, “Come now. It’s not that creepy. Sure, some people have died in here but you’re gonna find that in most houses older than 1900.” You did not look amused and he said, “Yes, yes. There are stories about it being haunted. People have seen stuff they’ve said. But, really. It’ll be fun. Just you, me, and Cap.”

You rose your brows in surprise. “Cap?”

“He’s aching for some companionship.”

Taking a long sip of your drink, you turned from Tony to examine the room a little bit further. “Didn’t think poster boy for American family values would be going after a prostitute.”

“I don’t want you to be a prostitute.”

“What do you want me to play as then?” you asked coyly.

“Mine.”

“Okay,” you sighed, turning to face him again.

Tony was at your side suddenly and you leaned away from him, unsettled by the fire burning in his eyes. He pinned you up against the counter, his breath hot on your ear.

“All mine. Omega,” he breathed.

You froze, staring at him as he pulled away, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. How did he know? You were on suppressants. Always had been when you had been around him.

Trying to play it off, you forced yourself to shake your head. “You want me to be an Omega? Bit of an odd roleplay. But I guess…” You reached out to touch his shirt, but he stopped your movement with a tight grip on your wrist. Wincing, you said, “Tony, what—”

“We both know you don’t have to pretend with that one.” He leaned in and inhaled deeply against your neck. “I know you’ve felt that ache.’ His lips gently brushed your skin and you shivered underneath his kiss. “I can taste it.” Involuntarily, you leaned towards him and he smiled against your neck. “Placebos. The last two weeks.”

Your blood ran cold. You knew something had been off about the way you felt. You had felt more desire for your customers than normal.

No no no no.

You tried to jerk away but he held tight.

“It was easy to pay Tommy to switch them out. You know having you employed is a risk for him. Even with the suppressants, you still smell and taste that much different than others. Probably why he only usually lets you take high end jobs. Worth the risk if the price is right. Doesn’t want you getting hurt for a small pile of change.”

How could Tommy have agreed to that? Your mouth was dry. There was a reason Tony was getting under your skin as much as he was now… any Alpha like him. And with Cap in the house too… it was no surprise you would react.

“I think this will be a more exciting experience if we turn this into a game. You like games, don’t you, Y/N?”

Breathing erratically, you decided on a whim to try to play his game. He was in charge after all… an Alpha. He was riled up; you felt his erection against you. Wanting to please him, you got out, “Depends on the game.”

“You run. We seek you out.”

You had not even seen Steve yet.

“You’re joking, right?” you asked him, holding your glass tighter to your chest.

“Do I sound like I’m joking?”

He came closer again and laid a gentle hand on your waist. “You’ll be perfect at it.” He leaned in, pecking your cheek. Subtly, you leaned towards him, your mouth open slightly. His eyes were darker now, no doubt him arousing himself thinking of the hunt. His hand slipped beneath your skirt, cupping your ass. This time he gently kissed you, reaching up to you take your glass from you. “Won’t you, babydoll?”

Averting your gaze from his, you nodded. Heart hammering, you were wildly thinking about what you should do? Play his game? Try to hide for the night? Try to scale the fence outside? No. That would be rude.

He drew you from your thoughts, cupping both sides of your face, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “Steve’s ready. Been more than ready to hold you and fuck you right.” Tony drew in his bottom lip slightly, his eyes raking over you. “As have I.”

Thumb tracing your lip, you shivered as he said, “I know you’re not in heat. But, you like my attention, don’t you? Want me to hold you tight? I didn’t think you’d look and smell so fucking good but I’m not complaining.”

You did not trust yourself to speak, starting to feel frightened about how you were reacting to him scenting you all over your skin, wishing for more. You had not reacted to an Alpha for more than a year since you had started your suppressants. Losing control was scary.

His lips pressed firmly against yours and you responded in like.

“Figure the kitchen table is as good as any place. But I think you’ll be more comfortable on a bed.”

Your breath froze instinctively again as he leaned in. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “This is the part where you run.”

Your footsteps pounded in your ears as you ran down the hallway. You did not know where you were heading and you panicked, knowing damn well Tony knew the layout of this house and he had probably told Steve as well.

The halls were winding. You knew going up only trapped you, but you would not go up to the top floor. You would find a place on the third. If only the wood floors were not so goddamn creaky! You would be able to conceal yourself easier.

Any bedroom was as good as any and you bolted into one and into its bathroom.

Breathing shakily, you crouched in the tub, holding your knees close to your body. The curtain was mostly closed but there was still visibility. Luckily, the window was over the sink and the light from the moon would not cause your silhouette on the curtain.

The house was quiet.

Besides your breath as you tried to calm from the running.

It was too quiet.

Until you heard a squeak on the floor below it sounded like. They were circling in. Excitement was coursing through you, your mind running through the possibilities of what they would do to you when they found you. And worried too. If you had been off your suppressants for two weeks…

Suddenly, a shadow moved across the wall near the tub and you gasped, your hand coming to your mouth. There had not been any noise, no sound of anyone even entering the bedroom. You were unsure if anyone was actually in there with you.

You kept your eyes trained on the wall where the shadow was – not a solid figure but an outline, nonetheless. Perhaps there was something outside the window… but you were three floors up.

Moving cautiously, you pulled the shower curtain back further.

Revealing an empty, dark bathroom. Your eyes scanned the room frightened.

A new shape caught your eye in the corner.

Maybe you were playing tricks on yourself. This was because tony had frightened you with telling you people had died in here.

Then the shape flexed in size.

A scream erupted and you bolted out of the tub.

Running blind, you escaped the bedroom heading for the stairs.

Strong hands gripped you around your waist, yanking you to the side.

You cried out and grasped at the door frame. Your hands were ripped away and you were at the mercy of the grasp on your waist.

“Shh,” a voice whispered in your ear as they drug you back further into the room. “No need to be afraid.”

The hair on the back of your neck rose, scenting the Alpha holding you close. Especially him, without his shirt, his bare skin touching you. You mewled involuntarily.

“That’s it, darling,” he husked, turning you around to face him, keeping a tight grasp on you.

Steve had to help! The three of you needed to get out of this house.

“There was a ghost! A demon!” you gasped out, trying to look over your shoulder but he forced you to look at him again.

“No, no,” Steve purred, burying his nose into your neck. “You’re safe, Omega.”

Your breath hitched at the title and you relented for just a moment, forgetting why you were afraid. You were safe of course. Steve could protect you.

Snapping out of your haze, you shook your head.

“No,” you protested, your fingers digging into his arms. “You don’t understand. Upstairs –”

Steve nipped at your ear and pressed you against the wall. “Come now, I can calm you down, darling.” You tried to argue but he kissed you deeply, cutting off whatever you were going to say. You began falling into it, following his lead. Against your lips, he praised, “Good girl. You’re so riled up. Let me take care of you.”

You were falling victim to your hormones. You had to stay above water.

Again, you tried, “Steve, I swear –”

He hushed you again, his hands at the bow at your back. “Quiet, Omega. I promise we’ll protect you.” He untied the bow, moving his hands to the straps at your shoulders. “You’re so beautiful. Soft. Perfect.”

You melted under his words.

“Put her on the bed, Steve,” you heard Tony state from the doorway.

Steve chuckled against your lips and said, “You really don’t like foreplay, do you Tony?”

“I like foreplay plenty. I just know how to get the girl wet.”

Steve picked you up suddenly drawing a gasp out of you. As soon as you were on the bed, Tony flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pressing down on your back to hold you in place.

You felt the fabric at your pussy rip, leaving you exposed.

A rapt smack on your ass caused you to yelp. His fingers delved between your lips and you gasped.

“Let’s present ourselves nicely, Y/N. You have such a tight, welcoming cunt. Let’s not give Cap here the wrong idea.”

Tony added another finger and your own dug into the comforter, biting your bottom lip. His thumb worked your clit and you keened, grinding gently.

SMACK.

You whined when another blow landed, grinding harder.

“Steve, you like what you see? She’s well behaved, isn’t she? Fucking perfect.”

You were empty and you looked over your shoulder, seeing Tony licking his fingers.

Steve’s fingers traced your hips, a soft exhale leaving his mouth. You mewled when his fingers brushed your pussy, playing with your wetness.

Tony cupped your chin and he cooed, “Look at that. How wanton you are, darling. I gotta say, I’ve been wanting to fill you for a while.” His thumb entered your mouth and you sucked earnestly. His pupils were blown wide, looking hungry. “You can take as many suppressants as you want but kitten, I could see right through you and your need to be fucked and taken care of was glaring.” He kissed you, his tongue slipping past your lips. Groaning, he promised, “And you’re going to get it.”

Suddenly, Steve hiked your hips up and he entered swiftly.

You cried out as he pounded, feeling his cock hit your core.

“So fucking tight,” Steve grunted, his fingers digging into your hips.

Over the noise, you heard Tony let out a laugh. “I knew she could get you to drop an f bomb, Cap.”

Turning your head, you saw Tony pleasuring himself, watching the two of you. You could not wait for him to take you too.

Your head was swimming with arousal, wanting Steve to finish inside you. You needed to make him happy, allow him pleasure. His thrusts grew ever more sporadic, his pants becoming shorter.

“Alpha,” you whined.

That was enough to send him over the edge, coating you.

Tony’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up. He crawled onto the bed with you, holding you close. You gasped when his finger found your clit, stimulating you.

“Let’s get you off again, baby. Make you that much wetter for me.”

He had you crying out, his arms holding you tight as you saw stars.

Tony filled you and you cried out at the intrusion when you were still so sensitive.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he husked against your ear. “I’m going to keep you all for us. You’ll never have to work outside this house again.”

Driving himself up into you, his hand closed around your neck. You groaned against the sensation, drowning in your pleasure. Your skin was on fire, electricity shooting through you.

“Alpha. Please,” you begged.

“Beautiful, Omega,” Tony moaned, his thrusts becoming faster.

When the two of you came tumbling down again, you all but collapsed in his arms.

His hands were gentle as they repositioned you, laying you softly onto the bed. Coming down beside you on one side, Steve on the other, Tony pulled the blanket over you all.

“We have all night, babydoll.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. whispered in your ear, “You’re gonna love it here with us.”

You snuggled in closer to them, knowing they were going to protect you. You did not ever have to worry about being safe again.

The Man That Got Away

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Leaving the most wonderful woman Bucky’s ever met was the biggest regret of his life and he never expected to see her again. But magic tends to have a mind of its own.

A/N: This is for #SherrysFallIntoYouChallenge ( @sherrybaby14 )  and yes I know “The Man that Got Away” was released in 1954 with A Star is Born (ft. Judy Garland and you should watch it), but we’re going to pretend it was released nine years earlier so this story makes sense. Okay? Okay. Also, I finished this in a caffeine haze so judge me. 

My Masterlist

...

The street lamps of the city seemed to radiate a cheerful glow now that the war was over. Couples started roaming the streets again. It wasn't like the mayhem of victory, but the steady normalcy that existed before. It all seemed like a blurry dream to Bucky; familiar but odd. Foggy as the dream was, the city's air had alluring magic in the air tonight which pushed Bucky towards his destination. He hoped he was heading in the right direction. Steve hastily wrote the note and slipped it under Bucky's door during his morning jog. It listed the party, the address, and instructions on how to get there. Bucky hadn't attended many parties since his return home, but for Steve, he'd make an appearance. Besides, it was Halloween and for the new Shield group. If not now, then when? The bar was along a street with other bars and clubs in Brooklyn. Like the rest, it was decked for Halloween. The fuzzy illumination of the sign obscured the readability but Bucky made out the name Enchanted; how fitting for the season. Caricatures of witches, cats, ghosts, and ghouls decorated the outside. When he stepped in, it was just as seasoned. Jackolanterns lined the carpet entrance. The club's atmosphere was dimmed by lights covered in red and orange shades. Along with the fog and smoke, it created a mystic and romantic feel. The smell of smoke was thick but cut with the crisp scent of fall every time the door opened. This was the kind of place Bucky would take his dream girl; if he had her.

A hostess caught his attention and took his coat. On his request, she directed him to Steve, who was off chatting with Peggy and some men from the government agency. They were all friends, not bureaucrats. They faced away from the stage and the Bing Crosby cover artist who occupied the stage. The night's host came into the light, but Bucky paid no attention to entertainment. He quietly joined the group and after the hellos, pats on the back, and a hug from Steve, Bucky molded into the background of the group. The next singer was announced and the group began shifting and looking over as the host began chatting up the entertainer. They wanted to watch the performance so they slowly migrated away from the bar and to a booth with a view. The host raised his hand in the direction of the circular spotlight. "Ladies and gentlemen, please show your love to the bewitching Ms. Y/N!" Bucky's throat knotted. Outstepped the most gorgeous woman alive. She dawned a form-fitting black dress that could have come from the set of "I Married a Witch." Like Veronica Lake, it slinked over her body like water. Though it was long-sleeved and touched the floor, the fit and the cuts in the chest and leg left little to the imagination. When she moved, the fabric caught the light and moved on its own. It matched the headband that sported a small witches hat, fitting for the vixen. Her hair was curled in long waves which framed her face well. It brought out her sparkling eyes and bright red lips. She dripped magic even before she began to sing. Y/N was the femme fatal. The grand piano struck chords like lightening and the band followed. It was a dragging jazz symphony with independent saxophones. The band gave a condensed version of the melody before she began to sing. But oh, when she did Bucky was lost. *** Bucky was in a coma for a month following his fall. When he woke up, he heard Steve saved the East Coast. Along with the rest of the Hollowing Comandos, he was closing in on Berlin. The war would be over in weeks, but Bucky was missing all the action while stuck in his hospital bed. Three days after waking up, he was moved into a common room filled with fellow casualties. Granted, miraculously, all Bucky had was a rapidly healing but torn up arm. He insisted to the deaf ears of his doctors, that he was fine. He could be moved to processing so he could return to his buddies. The moment he felt he had the strength, he surged out of bed. He hadn't realized a month in a coma would leave his legs limp. He tumbled over and onto the floor; causing a small scene to all those around. The most beautiful woman rushed to his aid. She was dolled up in a dignified trench coat and khaki dress. It was governmental in look, but she wore no colors. Her makeup was done, unlike other female army officials. She had cherry red lips, that in spite of Bucky's foolishness, curled most fondly. Her hair was curled in the modern, starlit fashion. If he put her against the wall, she'd look like a pin-up. The British soldier she was previously conversing with was annoyed, and despite the obvious flush of embarrassment on Bucky's cheeks, he didn't regret the fool he made out of himself. Once her hands touched his chest and back in support, a jolt of electricity ran through his body. There was a tingling sensation creeping into his body from the spots her hands met his skin and it livened his body. He felt warm for the first time in weeks and without the need of help, but the eager acceptance of it, Bucky got up and sat down in his little nook. "What's the rush soldier?" She elegantly placed herself next to Bucky on his cot. He didn't know that sitting could be so gracefull, especially while supporting a goofy soldier. She held onto him until she was sure he was alright. "The war's not missing ya."  Her voice was light but not too chipper. She was soft and alluring with a voice that dripped like running honey. Bucky huffed. She was clever and he had a difficult time with a clever woman. "I'm sure the war isn't, but my buddies might be." He bit the inside of his cheek, punishing himself for sounding so brash. "Aha, well America's finest has written some letters. Maybe if you weren't as stubborn as an ass, you'd notice them in your table drawer." She leaned over and snatched them. She handed them over with a wink and her hand brushed Bucky's. It was so soft but electric. Bucky opened his mouth to speak but quickly pinched his lips together. He already looked like a fool, he didn't need his words to confirm it, again. He turned over each envelope. There were three, all unopened, and all from Steve. "He's glad you're getting well." She patted his hand with the envelopes. Bucky blinked and shifted his glance to the mystery woman in front of him. "You know Steve?" She chuckled a melodic chuckle with her head tilted back. She acted like everything was so obvious, even a child could figure it out. It didn't make Bucky feel too confident and he blushed. "Oh love," She placed a gentle hand on his. "I'm a girl with a way about her." "Ain't that the damn truth." He thought to himself. With that, she stood up. Bucky followed the sway of her hips as she moved around his bed, habitually tidying it a bit. "Get some rest and catch up with Captain Rogers. You'll be back to your reckless choices in no time." The light her smile radiated dimmed the further she walked. Down the long line of cots, the specific charms of her faded, but she still lingered like a candle flame in the dark. She waved and joked with other men she passed. All their attitudes brightened as she passed; more so than they would for any other woman passing by. She was more than the nurses to them. Eventually, she was a blimp in the background but Bucky could see her stop at another soldier's bed. It was odd. The only females allowed around soldiers were nurses. He wasn't in a stateside infirmary, otherwise family could visit. Yet here was a goddess amongst a string of injured wolves, but she had no fear. She roamed the lines of cots like she owned the damn place. Bucky rolled his shoulders back thinking they were sore but to his surprise, they weren't nearly as bad as they'd been the day before. He chalked it up to the schoolboy rush he felt. Within minutes, that enchantress had her claim on Bucky's heart. *** Some couples swayed in dance. It was a good song to get close to a dame, but Bucky remained on the outside with Steve. Surprisingly, he wasn't out there with Peggy. They could hardly keep their hands to themselves these days. "And all because of the man that got away. No more his eager call. The writings on the wall..." Her voice was strained and pulling in the emphasis of her despair. Despite the pain, the song glossed over the crowd like a siren's melody. It pulled the couples closer and made the singles itch for someone to touch. A spell had been cast over the crowd. "Isn't she great?" Steve whispered in Bucky's ear, which made him jump from his enchantment. Steve snickered but continued. "She's Peggy's friend; known her since the start of the war. They've got a long backstory." Bucky nodded along with Steve but maintained his distant guard. "Yeah, she's someth'n man." *** The rolling hills of the Normandy hospital were breathtaking. He imagined if the roles were reversed, Steve might enjoy his stay. He could recover while drawing and painting the landscape. Instead, Bucky was trapped with little to do other than listen to grumbling Brits and Americans complain about being bedridden like him. Though they were seeking to be sent home, not back into the thick of it like him. He was called out of his solitude by an overly amused voice. "If your intent was hiding, you need to work on your hiding places." In a poof of fabric, the girl from a week ago sat down next to Bucky. She took to nature like she was a part of it. The sun gleamed off of her like the ancient statues he saw in Greece. Her fingers wove into the grass like tree roots. Her whole body relaxed. "If anything, I'm looking for a means of escape." He quipped, looking over her with a raised brow. She was the most curious creature he'd ever encountered, and he'd met a lot of women. "Now Sergent Barnes," She warned playfully. "The boys aren't that bad." Bucky snorted. "You're not stuck with them all day and night." Then he paused, frowning in thought. "How do you know who I am?" "I deliver your mail." As if on cue, she chucked another letter from Steve over to him. He carried on. "And how do you know Steve?" "Mutual friends." She replied as if it were just that obvious. "You know, girls aren't usually allowed in the infirmary with the soldiers." He teased, looking to stir a reaction. She nudged him with her shoulder. "Well, I'm not any girl." Then she looked around for any nearby person and leaned in like she was going to share top-secret information. "I'm a woman." Bucky's face deadpanned, looking straight at her. She combusted into a laughing fit and fell back onto the grass. It took her a minute to calm herself enough to prop her head upon her elbow. "You're impossible." Bucky huffed again. "Quite the contrary Sergent Barnes." She flashed him a Chesire grin. "I'm very easy if you just ask." He nearly choked on his own spit and she was sent into another laughing fit. "I can see why you're popular amongst the other soldiers." With her head back on the grass and gaze on the clouds, she sighed. "I'm popular because I'm a woman who's attention is on them and not their temperature or blood pressure. I see them and they appreciate it. I don't need to be so flamboyant with them to gain their attention." She turned her head to look up at him with thick lashes. Her hair draped over her chin and veiled her lips. All Bucky could think of for a moment was pushing her hair back and smoothing a finger over her lips. "So you do go out of your way for me?" He met her eyes and tilted his head in question. "I was asked to check in on you, but you don't exactly make it easy." She sighed, but her cheeks raised with a growing smile. "D'Steve ask you too?" His accent thickened with the idea of his Brooklyn pal. She began playing with the grass, continuing the conversation in her own little world with Bucky. "No, I've actually never had the pleasure of meeting Captain Rogers or corresponding with him. A mutual friend asked on his behalf. She was concerned about him." "Peggy?" He asked. She hummed a yes in response. He went on to ask."And how do you know Peggy?" "Peggy knows all the spies of course, and when I retired from my spying because I was no longer needed- thanks to your Captain, I turned my war efforts to helping the soldiers where I could." Then she shrugged, trying to conceal her disappointment. "I may not be allowed to fight, but I can give comfort." "Mmm.." Bucky thought on that. "So what? You travel around infirmaries and comfort the wounded?" "About that." She nodded her head in agreement. "Between stops, I'll do shows for nearby camps. That's what I did before I became a spy." Bucky was puzzled. She was a performer, but he didn't recognize her. At least, he didn't recognize her at first. Then it began to piece together. The lips and the trending fashion, her quirky cheerfulness, being a performer- she was Y/N, the ex-patriot Hollywood starlit. All the tabloids said she was lost to the war, but here she was in front of him. Bucky groaned at himself and his stupidity. "I'm an idiot." "Well yes," She said bluntly. "But I don't mind it. You make up for it in your good looks." His eyes shot wide and to her. No other dame he'd encountered been as forward as her. First, he thought it was her fame, but none of the tabloids talked about any other female celebrity's brazen attitude. "Beg your pardon?" He chocked on his words as they came out. "Called you handsome, soldier." Her brows peaked, but not in annoyance, but questioning. "What has the war taken away your ability to flirt with a woman?" "No." He quickly shook his head. "You're just something else. You're...wonderful." *** She crooned on. Every sentiment, she made eye contact with another person, pouring her emotions into them. "The man that won you has run off and undone you. That great beginning has seen the final inning. Don't know what happened. It's all a crazy game" Howard came up next to Bucky and patted him on the back. "God, isn't she the greatest performer that you've ever seen?" He straightened his tie up and smoothed over his suit. Bucky knew that attitude. Stark was looking to bag her. Bucky swallowed back his annoyance with the first drink he spotted. He wanted to ring Stark out for pursuing Y/N, but he had no justifiable reason to even stop Stark's advances. *** There was a town less than a mile away from the hospital. Even though it lacked many of the goods it had before wartime, Y/N always made her way back from the small but growing market with treats for the boys. For some it was cigarettes that didn't taste like government-issued cardboard, others bake goods, and some asked for little gifts or pressed flowers to send home to their girls or families. She went twice a week so everyone who needed or wanted something got it within two weeks. For Bucky, whatever he asked for, he got that day. Once he asked for playing cards because the decks belonging to the other soldiers were either incomplete or rigged. If he had to pass time, he might as well do it with something semi-entertaining. To his amazement, she came back that day with a beautifully printed deck of cards. "Where the hell did you swipe something as good as this?" Bucky went off without thought as he was caught up in the cards. "Not hell," Her signature Cheshire grin crept onto her face. This time, it was illuminated by the sunset dying on the horizon and the candle on Bucky's bedside table. Her eyes dazzled in the glow like they were lights themselves. "That's for sure. I have my ways. A little bit of magic." It was light-hearted, but Bucky's gaze shifted to her suspiciously. "You know..." He began. "My shoulder's gotten a lot better over the past few weeks. I'd say it's back to what it was before my fall and I have complete dexterity throughout my hand." "That's great Sarg." Her voice swayed like sweet garden charms. Maybe the bells from the town sounded off as well, but he could have sworn he heard layers to her voice. "That means the doctors are doing their job and all the rest I'm forcing you to get is working." "Yeah, maybe you're right. My sleeping has impr-" He caught himself as his train of thought moved without him. Suspicious, he eyed her but not out of mistrust but genuine curiosity. She was already a compilation of mystery and he was trying to solve one layer. "Ever since you came into my life, my health's improved. It's like you're a lucky charm or someth'n." He could have sworn he heard her say "or something," but her lips didn't move. She batted her lashes a few times and her smile shifted from cheeky to sincere. "I do think I've helped you get better, by kicking your sorry butt into gear so you'd listen to your doctors and rest." Bucky snorted at her suggestion. Man was she one powerful woman, and in all fairness, she had kicked his butt into shape despite himself. "Yeah, some magic your foot's got there. One powerful kick." She chuckled at his insinuation. Her hand landed on his knee and again a bolt of contagious electricity shot through him. Suddenly, he was laughing with her. "Oh Barnes, kicking boys like you around is what I do best." There was a mutually shared exchange of fondness between them that was magnetic. If there weren't so many prying eyes around he would have taken her into his arms there and kissed all the air out of her. He'd save that for later that night when they could sneak off to their own little corner of the world. Then she shook her head and pulled herself out of the moment. Her throat cleared and it pulled Bucky back to the world around them. "I'm gonna go drop off the other goodies. When I get back, I'll kick your butt again, but in poker." Bucky grinned as he already began shuffling the cards through his fingers. "I'd like that." He smiled up at her an eager smile. *** "Good riddance, goodbye. Every trick of his you're on to, but, fools will be fools. And where's he gone to?" She cried out. Pain and agony morphed into bitter confusion but no one other than Bucky seemed to notice the song was more than a song. It was a release. He noticed Peggy shift her eyes to him. Maybe she saw it for what it was aswell. Yet, in her eyes, pure confusion turned into confused acceptance. She could see Bucky's attachment. He shrugged her off as he was pulled back into the song. He could swear there was something otherworldly to it. Knowing Y/N, maybe there was. What was clear, was the distress in the performance. There was a call to it of "Someone notices me. Someone really notice me." *** Immediately following the war, Y/N was sent to DC. Peggy, Steve, Stark, and other war leaders were called to DC. Bucky, being healthy enough to travel could follow Y/N and join Steve with the other Howling Commandos. Y/N acquired one of the few passenger planes running from Europe to the US. She preferred that over traveling with a bunch of caged up soldiers who hadn't seen a woman in months. Bucky traveled with her and they arrived in DC together a day before the meetings began. They had private time together in Normandy, but nothing like the freedom of DC. They didn't have to sneak out and sneak around officers to be alone. In DC, they can walk down the street holding hands and go out to dinner. They were a magical fifteen hours and Bucky knew it was all too good to be true. A telegram arrived at Bucky's hotel room the night before the meetings. The army rerouted a post intended for Europe to Bucky. The original letter was addressed to one of his camps from many months prior. Steve moved the Commandos around so it was normal to receive letters later than the stationed boys. This was nearly three months late. He read the emotionless typewriter font despite the confusion and then, despite the denial. He hadn't seen Dot since the holiday relieve Steve was able to acquire for him. He wanted to assure his Ma that he was alright. Unsurprisingly, he saw Dot; or rather, Dot found him. Upon hearing of his stay over, Dot appeared on his doorstep. And well... he was a man after all and he hadn't seen a dame that spoke English in over a year. So yeah, they slept together. Now Dot was pregnant, with his child. Bucky's gaze shifted to Y/N who patiently got herself ready for bed while waiting on Bucky to join her. She had her second stocking midway down her leg and even though she was undoing herself for the night, the intimacy of it all was the sexiest thing Bucky had ever seen. He was entirely and happily bewitched by her. But it was because he loved her, that he had to break her heart. God knows he didn't want to. He wanted to burn the letter and never think about Dot again. He hadn't thought of Dot since the second he laid eyes on Y/N, but his mom would box his ears in and Steve would kill him for leaving a child without a father. "Y/N?" He cooed softly from his place by the door. "Hmm?" She replied from her place at the vanity. She peered up at him through thick lashes, bent over, taking care of her stockings. The slight actions were mesmerizing. Bucky's throat croaked with the hard gulp he made at the sight, but it pulled him out of the moment. "Y/N sweetie." He strode over to the bed's edge by the vanity and plopped down. Noticing that something was off, mainly that Bucky hadn't pounced her yet, her confused eyes searched and landed on the telegram. "What's wrong?" Her brows knitted together as her concerned gaze met Bucky's somber eyes. "I received a well-delayed message from New York." His hand scratched the growing locks near his neck that Y/N loved to toy with so much. There would be no sweet sentiments now. Suddenly, Bucky popped up and began quickly pacing the floor. "I just, I don't understand. It was one time and I was so careful. In all the letters nothing is mentioned...even ends things!" He swiftly turns back to Y/N, exasperated. "But this one, the one that comes late, that's the kicker!" He dramatically huffs and collapses on the bed. Y/N crawled up next to him and sat on her knees facing him. She looked over him worried and pulled his head into her lap. "James," Her voice was smooth and hushed. A wave of focussing calm washed over Bucky. "what's the matter?" "Dot's pregnant." He admitted blatantly. When Y/N's hands retracted and she began to move away, Bucky propped himself up to catch her. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I'm so, so sorry to do this to you. If I had known I never would have..." She shot him a wicked warning of a glance and he shut up. "Never would have started something with me. I know your character Bucky. You're not like that. It's why I allowed myself to grow fond of you." Fond. Not love, but fond. Already she began detaching herself and it scared Bucky. Desperately, he clasped her hands in his. He was upright now and kneeling with Y/N. "Say the word and I won't go. I won't leave you and we can run away from our responsibilities. We can go out west for your career and I'll never step foot in Brooklyn again." Her hands slipped from his grasp and against his best efforts, he couldn't chase after her as she left the bed. "We both know that if I let you do that, you'll hate yourself for the rest of your life. I can't let that happen." Quickly, she began stuffing her stockings and the other attachments she had taken off in her bag. She had her own room with the rest of her things. "The pain'll be worth it though," He declared meekly. "If I got you." His eyes were tear-filled as were Y/N's. He was a man pleading on his knees for his sugar girl, dynamite, enchantress to stay. She dashed back to him and for an instant Bucky had hope. Her soft lips planted on his forehead like they were imparting a seal to send away. He knew then that it was over. "And my pain will be worth it if you keep your soul." She then pulled away and wiped the tear streams from her cheeks. "You're going to go home and live a wonderful life Bucky. You may be afraid and angry at first but that'll all change when you meet your child. Yes, it'll hurt but you'll find someone else who makes you just as happy if not more. And everything will be magical again." She leaned over and gave his lips the sweetest kiss; filled with passion, love, and starlight. With only mere seconds of touch, he was out of breath. "This," She whispered against his lips. "I promise." Bucky couldn't fight for her as she walked out. He was frozen in place and forced to watch the most amazing creature walk out of his life. Once the door closed, he pounced. Able to free his limbs from their slumber spell he darted out the door but Y/N was nowhere to be seen. He spent a few hours pleading and pounding on her door. Eventually, security gave him the option of going back to his room or being kicked out. He chose his room. He had hoped Y/N would still participate in the post-war meetings, but as he suspected, she was gone. When he broke the news to Steve, he was uncharacteristically silent. Though the conversation was between the two men, word got back to Peggy. Knowing Steve, he probably blabbed without any pressure. He couldn't keep a damn thing from that woman. For the rest of DC Peggy did everything but smile in Bucky's direction. Hell, if she wasn't surrounded by higher-ranking officials she may have shot him. He did deserve it. *** Bucky shook himself out of the fog of memories when Steve elbowed him in the ribs. "Straighten up Buck and be a gentleman. Peggy's com'n back with her friend." "Gentlemen," Peggy nodded to Steve, Bucky, and Howard who all clumped together in a semicircle. "I'd like you to meet the best spy the Allies I had." Outstepped Y/N from behind Peggy. Before Y/N could speak, Howard jumped at the chance to take her hand. "Miss Y/N, after hearing all about you it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Howard Stark, the best contractor the Allies had. What a coincidence to have to of the best assets to the Allies in one room." After a kiss, Howard allowed Y/N to take her hand back. Only Bucky could see the sparkle of amusement in Y/N's eye that masked her desire to burst into a laughing fit at Howard's antics. "Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark. And Steve!" Her attention enthusiastically shifted to Steve. "I'm so glad to finally meet you after the storm Peg's talked up about you." Steve side-eyed Peggy as slyly as he could. "Is that so? And what has she said? She's a mystery to me some days and I'd love a few clues." Peggy blushed and after playfully swatting him, linked their arms together. Y/N's smirk was feline as she shifted her focus to Peggy and then back to Steve. "That you're the sweetest and most handsome idiot this side of the Atlantic. Steve's jaw dropped in astonishment as the rest of the group burst into chuckles, snorts, and giggles. Before Steve could give a retort or anyone else comment, Y/N shifted her attention to Bucky. "Hello Sarg," Her rich voice washed over Bucky's ears like another melody. She was poised with one hand on her hip and leg bent. "It's good to see you again." Steve's jaw closed and he cocked his head to the side. "You know'r Bucky?" It was directed towards Bucky but his gaze was fixed on Y/N. Peggy frowned up at Steve. He was the biggest idiot this side of the Atlantic. "Yeah," Bucky nodded slowly in agreement. However, he was too transfixed with Y/N to turn in Steve's direction. " Y/N delivered mail to all the boys in my hospital. She did a bang-up job at keeping all our spirits up." "Some were easier than others." Y/N fondly grinned while talking to Steve. "Your pal overhear was a difficult nut to crack." "I wasn't exactly the happiest patient until I had something more important than getting back to my pals." He nodded in agreement. Noticing that he had no chance of getting anywhere and feeling coerced into silence for long enough, Howard interjected. "Well, I'm going to go get a drink." "I think I'm in the mood for a Manhattan." Peggy seconded the drink idea and nudged Steve along. Bucky and Y/N could hear Steve grumble. "But you already got a Brooklyn." As he was dragged away. The exit wasn't all too smooth. Y/N's and Bucky's attention slowly drifted back together. "How's it been soldier?" "Y/N-" Bucky began to plead but she stopped him. "How's the baby?" She followed up. "Baby?" Bucky's thoughts were lost for a minute in Y/N but he was suddenly hurled to the reason why they were parted. "Oh, the baby! He's fine, healthy, and better yet with his parents." Y/N gave him a quizzical look so he continued. "Dot and her husband have a house on Statin Island. They're there with the baby." "Bucky," She warned. "You didn't?" "I have blue eyes, Dot has blue eyes, and the baby has brown eyes. As cute as the kid is, he's not mine." Bucky shrugged nonchalantly like the entire ordeal hadn't ruined his life. "Dot slept with another officer right before I returned home. Some Italian commander and he's a good guy, and when she called him up with the news he came and took my place." For the first time since he met Y/N, she was silent from a lack of words. A million thoughts raced across her face. The disbelief lasted the longest, then a wave of anger that calmed into acceptance. "I need a drink." She blurted out. "A strong one." She mumbled to herself as she strode away from Bucky and to the nearest bar. "Gin tonic. Light on the tonic." She nodded to the nearest bartender who nodded in response. Bucky snuck up behind her. "Make it two." He stood behind one of the bar stools and his arm draped across the gap Y/N was standing in and rested on the other stool. She was trapped by him. Y/N narrowed her eyes in a disapproving manner but Bucky didn't allow it to crawl under his skin. "What?" He asked casually. "Bucky," She warned. "We shouldn't be doing this." Her arms folded over her chest and though it was meant to show her caveat, it didn't help with how it pressed her breasts up. "What?" He questioned again with pretend naiveness. "Two old friends getting a drink?" "We're no friends." She quickly corrected. Bucky looked down with a suggestive smirk. "You're right, we're not." Y/N huffed in increasing annoyance. "God I wish I could turn you into a dog. It'd fit how you're acting." Bucky snorted. "You wouldn't." Then he took one over hands in his and his expression morphed into something sincere. "Even if I have a lot of begging to do." "Bucky..." Y/N began warning him but her resolve had weakened. "I know it's selfish to ask, because I hurt you so much, but do you think you could forgive me one day? I know it won't be today or even tomorrow, but hopefully one day you can see past how much of a punk I am and let me love you again." The club suddenly felt empty to Y/N. Despite the crowds pushing around it was just her and Bucky in the entire place. For someone who always knew what to say and when, her voice was locked away. Her head hung low from trying to conceal her expression. Bucky brought his free hand to cradle her chin between his large fingers. He tilted her chin up so he could look in her eyes. Now, he could clearly see the agonizing mix of emotions that were masked by the stage lights. "I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes wouldn't meet his and he pleaded. "Y/N." He cooed and her eyes glanced over his before settling. "I won't hurt you ever again. It'll be you and me like it was always meant to be. No war, no baby, no interruptions. I promise." "How can I let my heart trust you again?" She wondered allowed. Her eyes sparkled in the dim lights of the club. Rays of color reflected off the tears in her eyes. "I don't know." He replied earnestly and honestly. "But I'm willing to do whatever you need so you can let me back in." Y/N reached up and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. There was nearly no resolve left, and when he turned into her touch all of it was gone. She knew how to play with fire, but this was hellfire. Accepting his touch was scorching her to the bone but the thought of his love was an aching sweet relief. She wasn't certain who leaned into who and who initiated the kiss, but soon they were in a searing lip lock. They didn't need the roaming of hands or intertwining of limbs, yet, to feel the reverent passion held for one another. The kiss said it all. Eventually, Bucky parted from her. His lips were a swollen red from the kiss and his cheeks deeply flushed. Y/N however, looked as manicured as before. Her lipstick remained unsmudged despite the fearsome lovemaking. Bucky cleared his throat once he had enough air. "We... we-ah should go somewhere where we can talk." "Talk," Y/N smiled mischievously and pushed Bucky stumbling back so she could walk free from his trap. She snatched his beefy hand in her dainty one and pulled him along with her. "Sure, soldier. Let's go talk." Together, they made their way past prying eyes and to the coat check by the entrance. Bucky helped Y/N put on her dazzling designer number before he shrugged his on. He may be kiss whipped, but he was still a gentleman. Then they made their way out the exit of the club. The chill of the night air didn't seep into his bones anymore and Y/N appeared to thrive off of it. The autumn moon and the walloping gusts of wind softened around the couple just like magic. They were like any other couple walking down the illuminated street. They both were bundled up in layers except for their hands which were interlocked. The warmth that this generated radiated enough to keep them warm. Occasionally, Bucky would twirl her around in a little romantic dance or pull her flush against him and give her a quick peck on the lips that lingered into a full-blown kiss. "You know I could have taken us home. My rides flying around here somewhere." Turning from Bucky's embrace, Y/N searched the night sky for a dark outline. With a booming whistle, a broom came soaring down from the sky and into Y/N's outstretched hand. Bucky's chest erupted into a booming laugh and it reverberated against Y/N. At seeing her confusion, he kissed her nose and twirled her out of his hold and back into a walking position. "Not tonight dear, let's enjoy the leisurely stroll in your witching weather." Bucky didn't have to look at Y/N to know the secretive smile which she tried to hide with the press of her lips. He did catch the smooth movements of her fingers that were quickly followed by a gust of wind wrapping them up and pushing them together for a kiss once again.

...

Happy Halloween!

El encuentro

Pareja: Steve x Lectora

Palabras: 1071 palabras

Resumen: T/N y Steve tenían una linda relación hasta que algo pasa.

Advertencias: Mención de lemon o smut, o como lo conozcan, nada explícito.

A/N: Es mi entrada para Sherry’s “Fall Into You” Challenge con la frase #77:

“Esta es la parte donde el chico malo regresa por un último grito”.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Otros lugares donde publico: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea. 

Steve no podía dejar de pensar en T/N, eran novios desde hacía cinco años en la próxima cita iba a pedirle matrimonio, ya había planeado todo para que la pedida saliera a la perfección.

La primera vez que la vio fue en un entrenamiento, T/N parecía muy hábil, logró vencer a su contrincante fácilmente, sin embargo esa vez Steve no se atrevió a acercarse a T/N, aún no estaba acostumbrado a esta época.

Unos meses después finalmente Steve se atrevió a pedirle una cita; en un principio pensó que T/n lo iba a rechazar, la había visto varias veces rechazar a las personas que intentaban invitarla salir, sin embargo con él fue diferente, T/N aceptó la invitación

Steve se moría de nervios ese día, sería la primer cita que tenía en más de setenta años, por lo que no conocía el protocolo de la época; la cita fue bien al final para despedirse le dio un tierno beso.

En la tercera cita decidieron ir al cine a ver una película de terror; pero fue interrumpida porque surgió una misión de última hora a mitad de la cita.

Ambos habían sido llamados a la misión, parecía que todo iba bien y era sencilla; de hecho T/N parecía estar divirtiéndose, Steve estaba preocupado por no haber tenido una cita decente y que ella se decepcionara.

—Esta es la parte donde el chico malo regresa por un último grito—le dijo T/N.

Steve se rio, ya que justo esa era una de las frases que habían escuchado en la película, pero esa pequeña distracción le costó a T/N ser herida por el enemigo con un arma de fuego.

La herida no había sido grave ni necesitó intervención quirúrgica, como la herida no era profunda T/N únicamente necesitó que le realizaran una sutura.

—Me asustaste, tenía miedo de perderte— la regañó Steve por el descuido.

—Sólo fue un rasguño, en unos días estaré bien— respondió T/N.

—No vuelvas hacer alguna tontería, no me perdonaría si algo malo te pasara—dijo Steve en voz baja acariciándole el cabello.

—No me vas a perder—aseguró T/N—Sólo espero que no me quede una cicatriz fea—dijo viendo el vendaje.

— ¿En serio eso es lo que te preocupa?—preguntó Steve incrédulo.

—No tengo un suero que ayude a mi cuerpo a poder recuperarse rápidamente —se defendió T/N y sacó la lengua.

Steve se rio, por eso la amaba tanto, todo era especial con T/N.

—Te amo—le dijo dándole un beso en la frente.

—Yo también te amo—correspondió T/N.

Steve siempre creyó que por la misión su cita había quedado arruinada pero T/N pensaba lo contrario, creía que había sido la cita más divertida que había tenido en su vida; ahora cada que pasaba algo inesperado decía esa frase de la película.

La primera noche que durmieron juntos fue un día que hubo una tormenta, por lo que a modo de cita se quedaron en el departamento de T/N viendo episodios de la serie favorita de ella hasta que la luz se fue.

La situación hizo que Steve se pusiera nervioso, él no sabía si estaba listo para lo que pudiera pasar pero se tranquilizó cuando T/N lo abrazó y recargó la cabeza en el hombro de él mientras tanto él le acarició el cabello hasta que ambos se quedaron dormidos en el sofá.

La primera vez que hicieron el amor fue un cúmulo de emociones, nervios, algo prácticamente indescriptible, se tocaron, besaron, acariciaron y amaron durante todo el acto; el cual había sido algo completamente diferente a las sensaciones que habían tenido con sus respectivas parejas anteriores.

Steve sacudió la cabeza para dispersar y alejar sus pensamientos, vio la primer foto que se tomaron cuando empezaron a ser novios, pudo sentir como sus ojos se llenaban de lágrimas pero no lloraría, al menos no esa vez, en menos de veinte minutos tenía una misión que hasta ahora consideraba que era la más importante de toda su vida.

T/N había tenido una misión en solitario el mes anterior; sin embargo la misión salió mal, T/N no volvió porque los enemigos la habían capturado y ahora la tenían bajo su poder.

Habían sido semanas eternas e insoportables para Steve, necesitaba, no, más bien debía rescatarla, a veces él pensaba algo que era su peor pesadilla: temía que ya la hubieran asesinado o que le hubieran hecho lo mismo que a Bucky aunque no se atrevía decirlo, simplemente  no podía pensar en un mundo sin su amada T/N.

—La encontraremos—aseguró Natasha antes de abordar el Quinjet.

Llegaron a la base donde las pistas les habían indicado que hay podría estar  T/N, en realidad lo único que le importaba a Steve era encontrarla, se sentía mal por no haberla acompañado a esa misión y permitir que fuera sola.

La base tenía demasiado personal, a Steve le parecía que el tiempo pasaba exageradamente lento, sabía que cada segundo que pasaba, la vida de T/N corría más y más peligro, literalmente podría costarle la vida si se tardaban mucho en encontrarla.

Steve empezó a buscar por todas partes en la base, ya había perdido la cuenta de los enemigos que había derrotado y el número de habitaciones a las que había entrado, pero al final había logrado llegar a donde T/N estaba ella se encontraba acostada y llena de sangre.

Él se acercó, le llamó varias veces por su nombre pero ella no respondía, procedió a revisarle el pulso, el cual era débil, T/N estaba herida e inconsciente pero al menos seguía viva, eso era un consuelo para Steve.

teve no se separó ni un solo segundo de su lado después de que la rescataron,  la idea de perderla le resultaba completamente aterradora, temía que si se separaba de su lado algo malo pasaría.

Unos días después T/N finalmente despertó, al voltear vio a Steve, él se había quedado dormido a su lado mientras le sostenía la mano a su novia, T/N le dio un pequeño y débil apretón a la mano de él, pero fue suficiente para que se despertara.

— ¿Cómo te sientes?— preguntó Steve.

—Me duele todo—dijo T/N.

—Tuve tanto miedo de perderte, te amo tanto—confesó Steve.

—Yo te amo más—respondió T/N.

—Cásate conmigo—pidió de pronto Steve.

Quizás no era la forma en la que había pensado originalmente pedírselo pero tenía miedo de no tener otra oportunidad.

T/N asintió aceptando, se había quedado sin palabras.