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Intertwined Chapter Eight: Right Where You Left Me (Bucky Barnes X F!Reader)

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated, fed through AI or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here, it has been posted without my permission.

Story Rating: Explicit/18+ Only

Warnings: -Descriptions of death/dying by strangulation -Intense feelings of guilt/shame/regret descriptions -Talking of death/death-related subjects -Eventual Smut -Necromancy used/ritual is G R A P H I C -Blood/Bones/Corpses -Angst, angst, and a dash more of angst -yearning, my friend, a shit ton of yearning. -A bit of self-destruction -Depressive episodes from Reader -Reader appears to have some form of mental illness and deserves a warning (BPD related symptoms)

Relationship: Bucky X Ghost!F!Reader

Summary: A list of names has followed Bucky Barnes since his first victim was taken by his hands as The Winter Soldier and forever etched into his memory. One by one, Bucky has been able to make amends in some form or fashion in his efforts to reclaim his life, but there was always the one person he could never cross off. How could he when he doesn’t even know her name? Bucky’s been dealt an unfair hand in life, but maybe someone from beyond the grave could help finally put this mind and soul at peace… or, perhaps, mess with the natural law and order of things.

A/N: I do not have a beta reader, all mistakes are my own as I adapt this story into a self-insert fic from a first-person POV <3

“Help, I'm still at the restaurant Still sitting in a corner I haunt Cross-legged in the dim light They say, "What a sad sight" I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop Right when I felt the moment stop Glass shattered on the white cloth Everybody moved on I, I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared”

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The morning light came all too quickly for you.

The uncommon air of peace needed to be soaked in, the calm and serenity to be cherished.

The prayer answered by some random, casually kind deity that took pity on you and let Bucky finally be able to sleep through the night. Just one night. A few times, you had moved your hand under the impression that it would be too cold for you to keep it in place, but when you saw the signs of a nightmare, digging it's claws in to crawl back into his mind, you'd move your hand right back over and through his.

You stood vigilant, becoming more and more perplexed at how you were able to push away the horrid memories, all from the whisper of a hand that had long rotted years ago. You tried to remember if you had done anything like this before, and if it had helped, but no memory came to mind. It wasn't as if you were convinced it would work anyway, and not to mention there were plenty of times you had been walked through by him.

So, what changed now?

What could possibly be so different with the curse that you were able to influence its function? Let alone defy the supernatural laws of the world?

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to even think, dazed from the idea that this was far beyond your comprehension of all the knowledge you had about magic. There had been nothing within any grimorie that would've ever suggested that you could feel his alive, warm, flesh and blood hand with your misty spirit.

It didn't make sense, and there was nothing to suggest that it should, either.

Light started to peek through the blinds, dancing in morning rays of white and yellow to illuminate his tranquil features. How it showcased he way his impossibly dark lashes feathered on his cheek, and his soft, plush lips weren't turned in a frown or grimacing in skepticism. How many times have you looked at him, and then, how many times have you looked at him?

You became even more confused about the way you were shamefully gazing at every detail he had like he was the main piece of art in an exhibit.

However, it wouldn't be the first time you did look at him differently, would it?

You shook your head, practically snapping your neck in an effort to do so, blinking and looking away with a quiet huff of air, straightening up in your spot.

Regardless, despite the growing tension you had with yourself about fawning over Bucky Barnes' features, you felt triumphant at the very least, knowing that you were able to give him this night of rest he truly needed. Looking down at the way your hand still lay on, or in, his, and the thought tumbled by…

If he woke up at any moment, then how would you explain this whole... thing to him? You tensed at the idea of even letting him know that you had stayed by his side, full of an anxiety you had long forgotten about. Imagining him finding out that you had reached out to touch him in an act of comfort quickly bloomed from inside of you, which felt all too revealing.

What if he thought that was crossing a boundary, or thought what you did was… weird?

'Christ', you thought to yourself with a roll of your eyes. You had to get a grip with this situation.

You were adults, and it wasn't as if you had groped him while he was unconscious. Instinct took over, a bit of distress at seeing someone also distressed. It was more embarrassing that you were getting so bent out of shape about it in the first place.

The way the sun was settling inside the room had told you that he'd wake soon, and that you'd be faced with how you'd handle this precarious situation.

You were stuck between trying to brush this off like it was nothing, knowing he wouldn't allow that at all to be the case, and just being up front with what happened.

Letting whatever awkward emotions fly about.

Internally debating with yourself didn't last very long; you soon watched as he stirred once, then again, before you pulled your hand away just to make sure he didn't see or, Gods forbid, feel the evidence.

He squinted a bit from the light that filtered through the blinds before he groaned so softly. His stretching had caused you to turn away for a moment, but not without catching the way his shirt had raised up just enough to see his lower stomach. It was enough for you to wonder if your spirit could heat up a notch or two as you attempted to will the imagery out of your mind.

You glanced back just as he turned over, blinking his eyes awake of a sleep you were sure he wasn't expecting. Bleary, icy blue eyes tried focusing on their surroundings for a moment before they looked over and focused on your form.

For a split moment the look of recognition had swept over his features and softened the squint in his eyes; he knew you the second those glaciers found your grey form.

A blink, then another, and then his brows furrowed together, taking in the proximity between you two before looking back up at you. You offered a small smile, "Uh… hi," his voice was rough and groggy from sleep, something you hadn't actually heard before today.

The difference between exhaustion and being well rested was clear.

"Hey," The corners of your mouth pulled back as you spoke softly, tilting your head to the side, "How'd you sleep?"

If you had a heartbeat, you would bet it would be beating wildly from the anticipation of hearing the known answer.

"Uhm…" He blinked, looking down as he rubbed his face with his flesh hand and nodded, "Good, for once…" he added as the realization came over him.

He sat up on his hands and looked back at you, "How…?"

You shrugged, because truthfully you just couldn't fathom it either. You licked your lips and parted your lips to speak, but like a hook pulling you back, you hesitated for a moment. He looked at you with confusion with a bit of concern at your response, which only prompted you to just spill out the truth.

"You were starting to have a nightmare, and---well---I didn't even think about it. I just kind of…" You motioned to your sitting position next to him, and took a deep breath, "I reached out to… put my hand on yours." You looked down, a small, saddened smile on your lips as you looked at the translucent digits.

"I didn't… I don't know, but when I did you… stopped." You finally admitted, swallowing down as much of the shyness that threatened to choke you while keeping your sights down.

You could feel Bucky's eyes on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to see what his reaction was. Withholding the truth from him felt wrong, almost like a lie in itself, but confessing what you did? Well, it didn't feel any better either.

"So, that's why my hand feels numb?"

Your eyes snapped up to him with worry, a bit of panic in the concern you had for him, but you soon noticed the teasing curl of his smirk. You had fallen for his little rouse, but that only soothed your anxieties as your lungs deflated with a breath you didn't realize you had held.

You smiled before scoffing and chuckling, rolling your eyes in the same breath.

"Don't scare me like that; I was worried about your circulation." You teased back while waving him off before running your fingers through your hair once more. His sleepy, rough chuckle could've warmed the death that lingered around me.

Bucky's eyes had drifted down to your form, and somehow, you felt even more exposed by the way he observed you. He motioned to you with a nod before his crystal blue eyes looked up at you with curiosity.

"How can you even sit there, anyway?" He questioned.

You opened your mouth to answer as if you had already known, but closed it while tilting your head as you realized you just didn't. "Uhm, well, I try not to think too hard on that," You answered, "I just act like it can hold me, or I can lean on something, and it works." a hint of uncertainty could be heard at the end.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you before contemplating the answer himself and then accepting it. It seemed that you didn't need to worry about your instincts ruining anything with how effortless he took the news.

After digesting the newest revelation, and Bucky taking the time to wake up and drink some much-needed coffee, the two of you didn't waste much time staying at the motel before you were back on the road. Another four or so hours in the car did drag on for you since you weren't lost in your own little ghostly world. However, you didn't complain, not when you could see the change in Bucky.

It was subtle to the unsuspecting eye, but to someone like you, it was a grand change. He didn't make any grand gesture, nor did he act truly out of character. It was like you saw the glimpse of that peaceful side you had barely witnessed since Wakanda; a gentle ripple in the waters of peace.

It was not lost on you that the much needed sleep he got had made a world of difference, and you could relish in the fact that you were apart of that as well.

Despite this part of the journey feeling longer, it would move (metaphorically) in the blink of an eye when the two of you had made it to Nashville, Tennessee. The flare of focusing took over now, and the hunt for any signs of your aunt Agatha caused a blanket of seriousness to rest over each other.

Though you knew you weren't on a time constraint and that there were a few other places you could try, something about this felt like the situation was on the line for you to hurry. Not impatience, but the feeling of nervousness that only the graceful reassurance of finding something could quell.

You two needed to see the hope and the proverbial light at the end of this nearly never-ending tunnel.

You both needed a break, a success, an answer to half of the equation.

Your gaze had traveled to stare out of the window, letting the scenery of what was once familiar, knowable, and easy to remember had now become distorted. To say it was the same would feel almost wrong, but more than that, it was redesigned, or even in some part, neglected. Modern times mixed with a past design that somehow meshed together. It was easy for you to find yourself reminiscing before the words had slipped out, along with the memory.

"We used to run a little shop here for a while, near the Nashville City Cemetery." You muttered, watching as the sunshine reflected off the windows in flashes, illuminating the bright or dingy colors of buildings and homes.

Today would no doubt be warm and humid, just like it always felt in this area of the country on a bright day like this. You could even remember the hellacious way it felt as if you'd breathe in moisture from the humidity, something you did not miss.

"All the hype about the area being haunted and whatnot drew in a lot of customers… Business was big back then." You finished with the whisper of a tug at the corner of your lips.

"Did you sell potions?" Bucky's tone left much to be taken from; the peek of playfulness between the curtain of a genuine question. That got the corners of your lips to pull back into a smirk before your eyes found their way back to him.

"Potions, spells, rituals… tools, ingredients, books on how-to's… Anything the curious and experienced needed." You answered, your pride evident of what you offered to the community at the time, especially when it wasn't as widely accepted as it was now.

You watched as Bucky's eyes remained on the road, but the way his lips had slipped into a sunny smile had warmed something within your dead being. It made you feel like the sun itself; you could only imagine how this would've felt if you had a body to actually feel everything.

Most of the driving consisted of figuring out where the cemetery was; so much had changed that you found it difficult to go by memory alone. Shops transformed into different establishments, while other stores were completely gone, just as homes were erected in new places that had never existed before.

A part of you could appreciate how things had changed, that life continued on like it's supposed to. The natural order of things carried through with what it was supposed to do, and yet, there was something to grieve in a place that once held you like the comfort of a hearth.

You never got a chance to live through the change itself, to visit this place to see the progression of it. The heavy thought had tugged at your heartstrings enough that it had slowly pulled down that smirk, trading in something more melancholy.

Because things were so different, enough for you to draw several blanks at where you two were, the two of you resorted to using the GPS once again to help find the location. Despite the changes that life had carved into the once memorable town, when you had arrived, the memories had flooded back to you.

The curve at the end of the street where the building was at, the distant view of the cemetery being a hop-and-a-skip away from the shop itself, were exactly where you'd left them. Now, it was accompanied with more buildings, heavier traffic, and looked a little more used and loved on compared to the newer places.

"It's… the same somehow…" You exhaled as you looked around through the windows of the car, leaning forward as Bucky drove slowly by. "But everything's changed…" The words had found their way out before your eyes had drifted to look back to Bucky.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, if anything at all, but you noticed the way he glanced at you had left you wondering if you had seen it right. It was something akin to understanding, as if he had experienced the same strange sensation of something well known now being remodeled. You could've sworn you had seen something else there; fondness? endearment?

Maybe, you were just reaching, and it was best to not put any ideas in your mind. It, however, didn't stop the curiosity you had, because you two did share something here in this moment.

"Was this how it felt for you? When you came back to Brooklyn?" You asked softly, almost like the question needed to be gentle.

The flashes of memories of how he acted when he came back to the city played in your mind. Was everything bizarrely where he left them, but transformed? Was it a balm to his tattered memories, or did it bring an ache to his heart about the world he once knew all gone?

His lips parted, and he inhaled like he was about to answer before he seemed to stop himself, blinking. He pulled his shoulder back, a flicker in his eyes as the corner of his lips pulled back in an answer of uncertainty; you knew he didn't know which of those answers to give you.

"Something like that." He answered.

Despite the directions from the GPS, Bucky had crept the car up through the street before finally stopping at the curb of the opposite street. The two-story building stood with purpose despite the years weathering it. To anyone, it was just an unsuspecting building that looked like it was down for business, but to you it held much more than treasure or valuables.

Memories that could never tarnish with you and your aunt were alive behind the brick of the building. A sweeping wind of nostalgia fluttered around in your chest, drawing you in to every detail you could see and comparing it.

It looked to be in good shape despite the worn bricks and a desperate need for a paint job that aged the building. It was still standing, still unbreakable in a way that represented the Harkness name, something that made you feel a sense of pride. Despite your differences, no one would come to your aid the way Aunt Aggy did, and you could only hope this was no exception.

The memories played on their own, like a movie begging for its premiere; the first day the store, Oracle Emporium, had opened and how the two of you were pleasantly surprised by the number of people that arrived. They marveled at a lifestyle you and your aunt had lived for centuries, even welcomed in regardless of other types of locals that gave you two a hard time.

It was enough for you both to realize you could actually stay there for a while.

It had been so long since you two lived in peaceful times, where the liveliness of fun and the mundane aspects of life thrived for you both. In the only way two Harkness women could, of course.

But the creeping realization that latched onto your shoulders, and the unfriendly wonder as questions began began to arise; what would happen when you graced your aunt's presence as a spirit? How volatile would she respond to finding out your murderer just so happens to be the one you're there with? Hell, how would she react to Bucky just showing up announced?

What would she do after seeing you bound to him with the curse?

Would she even know what to do to bring you back, and would she even allow peace in Bucky's life for what he'd done?

You know you had assured Bucky that you'd be with him every step of the way, to help where you could and to try and ease the brunt of the news to her. You knew you had made a promise to undo this disastrous problem that had been spanning for decades, yet you could only now fully admit to yourself how terrified you were at the thought of Agatha's reaction.

At the idea that you couldn't help him, either.

You swallowed hard, leaning back as you stared at the building with the anticipation that was rising from the depths of your chest.

"You okay?"

Bucky's coarse, but grounding, voice asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. A hail-Mary by all accounts of the swarming mess that your mind had just delved into. You blinked a few times, clearing your throat and nodding quickly before exhaling the breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Uh, yeah, just… remembering." You muttered your answer before looking back at him. Despite your words, and insistence that you were composed you could see that he wasn't buying it. His face remained as neutral as possible, but it was the look in his eyes that told you otherwise; 'she's lying' written in the pupils.

"Let's… let's go see." You pushed on before looking down. It didn't matter if you were lying or not; both of you knew there was no point in wasting any more time just sitting, reminiscing, and worrying.

Bucky nodded and held your gaze for a moment. It wasn't as if knowing that I was covering my apprehensions had offended him, no, if anything, it was the exchange in his eyes saying he understood that pinched the inside of my chest.

He made it known that he wasn't sure how well it would go from the start. He didn't have to say anything directly; hell, you were the one to suggest that you two would cope with an undesirable outcome.

Yet, Bucky Barnes knew this was important enough to carry on. There was no point in withholding the truth from a woman who deserved to know what happened to her niece and, hopefully, could reverse these effects.

Bucky turned his body to the door and opened it without much of a rush, stepping out of the car and closing it. You had phased through the car entirely and ended up by his side.

You eyes strained to look through the windows of the building, almost willing them to spot any signs of life or movement on the other side of the glass. For the few moments that you combed over the sight, it looked deserted. There was the outline of where the register would be, with what appeared to be objects that you couldn't discern, like some kind of smudged privacy blinder had been placed on the window.

For those few moments, it looked completely deserted, until you noticed a shadow that whisked by.

The sight alone had caused you to float a little closer, tilting your head to the side as you noticed the shadow move once again; the outline of a feminine figure within the building caught your attention with a spark of hope.

"See something?" Bucky spoke up, and I nodded quickly before looking to him as if the answer should've been obvious.

"You didn't?"

His heightened senses should've surely caught the movement better than yours, which was the first sign that something was at play.

Bucky pulled his shoulder back, keeping his eyes on the inside of the building as if he were waiting to witness what I had, an edge to the tension in his shoulders. "Something… feels wrong. Like I'm not supposed to look inside, but---it feels like something's there." His tone had revealed that edge of uneasiness his body betrayed.

Ah, that made sense.

You hummed, nodding with understanding as the puzzle piece was revealed. "Sounds like an obscuring spell; witches place it in an area they don't want mortals coming around." You explained out loud, your tone lightening at the prospect of finding lingering magic, or even dare you think it, a witch feeding the spell actively.

And not just any witch, either.

"I guess it doesn't affect me the same way." You mused.

Bucky finally looked at you, noticing the way your spirit, not as literally as implied, had lifted just in your tone. "Think it's her?"

You took a deep breath, nodding quickly before your tongue flicked out to wet your bottom lip, "It's the best lead we've gotten so far… so, if it is, just be prepared," You turned your body toward him, but kept a watchful eye on the blurry shadow that moved once again. You eyes finally were pulled to look back to him.

"Remember what I told you; I'll coach you through anything you need."

A hesitant node, followed by an array of emotions trying to be concealed over his eyes, and it told you too much. The clench of his jaw to push back the fear, the flicker of trust he was putting in you and, maybe, even himself to handle the situation the best way possible. A pause later and he was crossing the street with you hovering at his side.

As the building got closer, you could feel the tension boil over; if you had a heartbeat, you were sure it would be pounding out of your chest, constricting and even chocking you.

A familiar, dreadful feeling glided over you at the idea of being smothered by the nervousness.

Both of you stopped at the door, a pause from Bucky before he reached out to put his hand on the door handle. You could see it much more clearly now, despite the way he restrained himself from showing the shared anticipation; he had to steel himself once more before tugging on the handle, but it did not budge and only rattled the doors themselves.

Somewhere in the universe, a balloon deflated, someone screamed in frustration, and another person flopped on their bed. These situations represented exactly how you felt from the anticlimactic and completely disappointing rattle of the doors.

"Damn," he cursed, exhaling and rolling his jaw as he took a step back to look up at the building. You wondered if he was determining whether or not it was worth breaking in from a different entrance.

A part of you wondered if maybe you had just imagined and willed the shape of a woman inside the shop.

Before you had the chance to say anything, a hopeful or even soothing statement to Bucky but would secretly be for yourself, an interesting type of miracle happened. The sound of a familiar, loud, and clearly annoyed, feminine voice had shouted from inside the building, causing both of you to snap your gaze at the doors once more.

"NOT OPEN FOR BUSINESS, AND NOT SELLING!"

You felt the relief flood all over you, a brisk, cold wave as refreshing and needed on the worst of humid days in the south.

A breathy laugh escaped past your lips as you floated closer to the door, trying to look through the window for the source of the voice before whipping around to meet Bucky's wide-eyes and furrowed brows

"It's her!" you exclaimed to him, corners of your lips curling in a hopeful smile.

It was the miracle, the saving grace, or even the epiphany of our adventure changing for the better. The sound of her voice, although rather unpleasant to anyone else, had sparked a familial warmth that only kin could replicate.

Bucky looked conflicted on what to do next; clearly Agatha's outspoken dismissal was not something he had hoped to experience outright, but you were more than expectant of this brash behavior right off the bat. You motioned to the door, nodding with expectancy.

"Say something!"

"I'm not here to buy!" He yelled back, looking at you as if you just suggested he walk around the town naked. With his uncomfortable shrug you couldn't quell your giddy snickering; you were so, so, close!

After a few moments of silence that kept the two of you on the edge, you were able to see the figure move closer into view. The light from the outside highlighted the long, dark auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders, pale skin just as you remembered, and a pair of blue-green eyes you knew all too well.

Memories of being compared to Agatha's looks had caused you to smile brightly; it had nothing to do with genetics and had everything to do with attitude, or even mimicry.

Her expression was the exact opposite of mine; she looked incredibly irritated with Bucky, but even you caught the narrowing of suspicion in her eyes as her eyes roamed over him from the other side of the door. After a moment, she quickly unlocked and ripped the door back. The bells on the door had jingled and clanked from the sudden pull, filling in the awkward silence as she bore her sights dead in Bucky's eyes.

Agatha took her time observing, or visually terrorizing, Bucky's appearance, her eyes traveling up and down before finally leaning against the doorframe, crossing her arms.

"You look lost," She mocked, her deadpanned tone leaving no room for niceties.

You looked back at Bucky and took in his stiffened posture, jaw locked tight, and keeping in all his emotions behind an iron-clad wall. Raising an eyebrow as she reached up to fiddle with a strand of hair, tongue in cheek, before she spoke again. "You don't look like the type that would even think about stopping by a place like this."

Her tone had an edge of accusation as to call out the fact that Bucky, or anyone else, shouldn't have even wanted to approach the place. It only confirmed to me that she tried to cover this place with magic.

Bucky's eyes glanced sideways to you, catching you nod quickly in encouragement for just a sharp moment, taking a breath before he spoke. "I'm looking for, uh, Agatha Harkness." He exhaled.

Agatha narrowed her eyes suspiciously once again, her posture stiffening just slightly as she moved to hold the door, ready to shut it in his face. "Don't know her," She gave him a sharp reply.

A hot panic ran through you in an attempt to keep her talking, "Tell her you need help involving spell work," You prompted Bucky. He licked his lips quickly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck with a gloved hand, and cleared his throat.

"I'm looking for help with, uh… spell work." He finally said, looking at her as if communicating to her she needed to see reason, "Heard she's the only one powerful enough to do it."

"Yes, good, very good." You encouraged, nodding before looking back to your aunt.

It was clear that Agatha's interest was caught with that by the way she tilted her head to the side, raised both eyebrows and scoffed.

"A tall… brooding-looking… man, who wears gloves in the summer, needs help with spell work, huh?" She asked, a tone of skepticism with a bit of intrigue. "Your type only comes around when things are so bad, you actually start believing in it."

You had to bite back a laugh on the sole purpose that she was disturbingly right. You ran a hand through your hair, staying close to Bucky to try and offer support in order to help him remain in control. So far, this was a great start, and he could easily win her over with how he's approaching her.

You watched as once again his gaze flickered to yours briefly before looking back to Agatha.

"At this point, I'm definitely not a skeptic, ma'am." He said, a breathy and small chuckle brushing past his lips in an attempt to ease the situation. You winced, putting a hand over your mouth, and watched as Agatha's small, but noticeable smirk had faltered.

"I don't think I'm old enough to be considered 'ma'am', unnecessarily attractive stranger," Agatha huffed, folding her arms as she jutted her hips out.

"Rein it in, Bucky, she's a bit vain," You warned the man who visibly swallowed, glancing at me before clearing his throat.

If you lost this opportunity all because Agatha was worried about a wrinkle or two, you'd end up throwing such a fit on the other side, there would be no way the living would reap what comes from it.

"I'm sorry, just—trying to be respectful." He corrected, pulling his shoulder before taking a deep breath, "Look—I really need to find Agatha. It's… it's important, and I've been trying to find her for a couple of days now." Bucky tried to reason with her.

Agatha sighed and observed him even more before. Before her was a man pleading to reveal her identity to him, one who wasn't her everyday clientele, showing up on her doorstep to a shop that was cloaked by magic to appear rundown and otherwise deserted.

You could practically guess what she was doing inside her mind; finding this to be a waste of time, wondering who had pointed Bucky in her direction, and probably playing with the idea that this was ruse to set her up by some unfriendly witch. Maybe even thinking if he was gullible enough about magic that she could con him out of something. Wondering just what kind of man he was to get mixed up in witchcraft at all.

Despite it all, the man had found his way to her, and with a small cat-like curl of the corner of her lip, she would entertain him just enough to find out how he found her.

After sucking her teeth, and clicking her tongue, she finally spoke. "Well, you found her." She sighed before side stepping to let Bucky him, "Get in before people start thinking I'm open for business."

Thankfully, your predictable aunt just couldn't stop herself from being nosy.

Delight couldn't touch the right word.

Relief was an understatement.

The ever-growing pressure of anticipation grew as you floated closely to Bucky, flashing him a triumphant smile that he caught from the side of his ocean eyes. You could see the layer of tension ease away as he stepped through the threshold.

The atmosphere was visibly different compared to the outside, where it looked almost foreboding. Of course, that was the whole point of the spell; even everything inside seemed more uplifted in a sense than the perceived eerie building outside.

You weren't sure what to expect whenever you floated through the threshold, maybe something more familiar like Agatha keeping the storefront looking like it had before, but this?

If anything, your dead heart ached taking in the sight.

There was a familiar warmth from the candles of all sizes that lined what used to be the register counter, where now an altar of items for protection, hearth, and abundance; cinnamon sticks organized to make a pentacle, green and gold items to amplify the energies you had long since forgotten the feel of. Incense burned, but only a small stick that was nearly gone. What was once a place where most people ended up coming to when they first arrived, or when they left, had now been stacked and converted into a sacred space.

You tore your sights away from the makeshift altar to take everything else in.

The large front of the store had been turned into a spacious living space; two chairs, plush with one green and one purple, surrounded an oval coffee table that looked almost awkward in such an open space. The large, sienna and forest-green, circular rug that was embellished with runes, took up enough space to try and make it semi-normal, only did so much to help the space. While this furniture had brought the sense of a welcomed, known, pat on the back, it was the bookshelves that felt like the embrace that I had missed. Rows lined with presumably historical books about the lives of our witch community, spell books for the beginners and the advanced.

Small little statues of certain deities that were in the same places we'd always put them at. Queen Lilith guarded the darker, advanced spells. Lady Hecate guarding the herbal books, tool kit recommendations and rituals.

Crystals, and gems, from big and small, lined around the floor and shelving, candles unlit but layered with melted wax, handmade charms created that hung within the windows, and plants littered the area in purposeful places; it was just how you knew Agatha would've had your safe places set up. An array of emotions had flooded you as you looked around with a mental checklist came through.

'I'd sit here with her while we shared tea or drinks.'

'We would've made these charms together---probably after being hassled by another local trying to delve into magic without a second thought.'

'She set up the cinnamon sticks how I used to do them; she always teased me about it…'

It wasn't until you floated closer to the side table between the chairs, the deep plum one that Agatha always claimed, spotted the small, framed picture that caused you to halt. Your throat constricted, a wild shiver running through the core of your being as if someone had just stepped over your grave.

It was you two from the seventies, a Polaroid picture that didn't fit in the frame, but was bright in the way both of you were smiling.

The memory had washed in waves in the same way these emotions did; You were able to capture Agatha laughing at something, probably at someone's expense, and were looking at her with your own bright smile. Your locks that flirted with the wind that passed by, your shared smile, and the mischievousness in both of your eyes. In your body, your very much alive body, you could absolutely see the family resemblance.

"You smile like your mom did."

Her words echoed in your mind in a way that made you put your fingers to your lips, as if they were ready to roll off of your own tongue. Half turned your eyes locked with Bucky's who appeared to have just noticed the same photo as well, except his expression wasn't obviously full of nostalgia and memories. He looked at me like a man who realized just how deep he was in this magical mess before it had even started.

Regardless of the prep, explaining anything you knew and what was a part of your world, and the kind of woman your aunt was, let alone witch, the realization that neither of you were as prepared for this as you had originally became evident between you two.

"Got a name, stranger?" Agatha asked over her shoulder, adjusting the locks on the door.

Bucky had been pulled out of his gaze from you and turned to her, doing what he could to relax himself before glancing back at you, and then speaking. "Bucky… Bucky Barnes."

There was always that hesitation for Bucky whenever he introduced himself, on the rare occasion, to someone. What would they say, or do, to him after giving out his unique nickname and classic surname? It was no different whenever he introduced himself to your aunt, either.

"Bucky Barnes?" Agatha asked as she turned away from the door, folding her arms and raising her brow for a moment. She looked as if she were about to say something for just a moment before she looked at him curiously, "Your name sounds…" She let the thought mull over in her mind before she squinted her eyes and pointed at him, "Weird."

Bucky sighed softly, but even you caught the hint of irritation that Agatha seemed to ignore. You had wondered if maybe she had heard of his name, but knowing your aunt, she was probably mixing up another person's name that hardly sounds anything like his.

She was not great with names, to say the least.

"So, what's a guy like you messing with magic?" Agatha teased as she tilted her head, "Let me guess, spiritual awakening? Big oopsie-daises with an abundance spell, now you're broke? No…" Agatha sauntered over as spoke, "Girlfriend wants you to spice things up in the bedroom, but took the ritual a little too far?"

Oh, this was going to be lovely.

Bucky turned his head toward your direction while keeping his gaze down, a silent request for help as you floated between them with a grimace on your lips, "Tell her you need help removing a curse." You instructed.

Bucky coughed to clear his throat before lifting his sights to an impatient Agatha, "A curse," He repeated, "I need help removing a curse." his tone was serious in spite of Agatha's antics.

Agatha hummed with interest, her eyes lightening up like a cat being served the freshest cream in a saucer. She put her thumb and forefinger to rest against her chin, crossing her other arm over herself, curiosity lively in the blue-green eyes.

"A curse?" She repeated with amusement, "Wow, and here I thought you would be a waste of my time---the very least begging for some sort of tarot reading." She mused with a mixture of genuine interest and disdain for the occult divination practice. Agatha slowly stepped toward him, continuing to observe Bucky in a different light.

"Hmm… Despite your good looks, charm, and well manners… you don't look like you're writhing in pain, or disfigured in any way I can tell." She gestured broadly over his upper half, "Unless of course this curse deals with something down south—" Agatha's finger pointed down toward Bucky's lower half, causing him to hold up his hand.

"No---No, nothing like that." He said, a light tint of pink flared on his cheeks and neck. You bit your lip and grimaced at the second-hand embarrassment that you desperately wanted to quell for his sake.

"No?" Agatha asked, tilting her head while tapping her lip for a moment, slowly circling him. "Boils? itchiness like bugs are under you skin? Maybe… a bad sunburn?" Agatha continued as she motioned to Bucky's jacket and gloved hands that tightened into fists.

The tick in his jaw, the growing stormy look in his eyes, and flare of his nostrils showed his growing irritation, and in return, the more amused Agatha became.

"Guess not. So, nothing noticeable… nothing simple then." She thought out loud just as she stopped in front of him, taking in the features of his face. "Dark circles… perpetually tired, maybe?" She asked, a glint of mischief in her eyes, "Nightmares, perhaps?"

Bucky's jaw clenched as his eyes found his way to yours once more, something like a mixture of a plead or a signal all in one flickered in his eyes. You sighed softly as you had to stop yourself from reaching for his left, metal arm.

"Yeah, nightmares." He answered sullenly, looking back up to Agatha with a more hardened stare.

"How are you sure it's a curse and not some sort of parasomnia?"

Bucky clenched his jaw, his fists flexing once more as he rolled his jaw, "Trust me, it's a lot more than just nightmares." The gruff tone he had held a hefty amount of certainty. In other words, a warning for Agatha to quit playing with him.

"Breathe," You stepped in front of Bucky's view but he didn't look to you. "She's just goading you; you've got to look past that."

You watched as he inhaled deeply through his nose, straightening up slightly letting his jaw unclench, but the look of irritation merely wavered.

Agatha nodded slowly, observing him and hummed, "Well, let's take a deeper look," She said while raising her hand, a mischievous smile on her lips, "Shall we?"

Before Bucky could even respond, before you could even warn him, Agatha had waved her hand across him as purple, fluttering energy had suddenly flashed over his body. It was a quick traveling light that flared over him, causing Bucky to step back and look down at himself, seeing nothing different.

"What the hell did you do?" Bucky demanded, though his expression showed his patience wearing thin, the panic was evident for someone like you to notice.

Agatha blinked a few times, her head rearing back slightly in a rare sight of surprise. She lifted her eyebrow, her eyes holding a purple hue as she tilted her head, "Oh my… you are cursed." She said before waving her hand once more. The same quick flash had been pulled back, almost allowing Bucky to exhale deeply as he blinked at her.

"You couldn't go to just any other witch if you tried with what's gotten a hold of you." She explained, a hint of amusement in her tone as she put her hands on her hips. "They'd turn you away, or maybe even add to it. This curse?" The corner of Agatha's lips pulled as she raised both eyebrows, "Those aren't nightmares you've got—you're being haunted."

Bucky swallowed hard, clearly shaken not just from the aggressive display of magic, but with how much she knew just from assessing him with a flick of her wrist.

You could see it rolling down now, the metaphorical snow ball that kept gaining mass and speed before its inevitable damage.

You moved closer to him, grappling with what you could influence and help. "She's testing you to see if you'll deny it—don't do that." You instructed him,

"Look at me," your voice sounded much more gentle than you expected, and waited for his lively eyes to find yours, "Breathe, you can do this---"

"Wait a second," Agatha's words caused you both to snap your vision to her.

You felt frozen in your spot when you mistakenly thought she was looking right at you, but only relaxed slightly when you realized her mirthful smirk and lively eyes were directed at Bucky.

Agatha pointed at him, her eyes narrowing as she took another step forward, "Is the little witch with you right now?" She pressed.

Shit.

Bucky's chest was visibly rising and lowering now; the truth coming out quicker with each taunt Agatha threw at him. It was obvious for you that you needed to grab the reins of the situation and take control from here. As a spirit, there was little you could do, but that wouldn't stop you from trying.

You bit your lip before looking back to Bucky, "Tell her yes, but keep it vague for right now, okay?"

Bucky's eyes found yours, a question on his parted lips that never came.

"Just trust me, okay?"

After a few moments his eyes had softened, he seemed to have understood that only you could reach Agatha from this point on. Bucky nodded so softly that it would've been imperceptible to anyone who wasn't watching him so closely, before finally gracing Agatha with a hardened expression.

"Yes," he said.

Agatha scoffed and laughed while clapping her hands once, "That's different!" She mused before putting her hands on her hips, "A little weird considering what kind of curse this is!" She further explained, before walking past us and heading to one of the bookshelves, running her finger along the spine started filtering through the books.

"It's interesting that you're so calm and put together if you're able to talk to them." Agatha threw him an all-knowing, mischievous grin, "Assuming they probably were the ones to actually tell you who I was, I'm curious just how much they told you about the curse."

You groaned and rolled your eyes, "She's trying to freak you out now, great." You huffed while putting your hands on your hips.

"She already told me what it was," Bucky answered a bit more sternly.

"Yeah?" Agatha pushed, not even pretending to be convinced, before pulling out a book, her energy flared in the same fluttering purple that engulfed the book to levitate it forward toward you two. The book opened, and the pages started to flip through rapidly before stopping on one that had large, gothic lettering: 'The Deadlock Curse' written as dark and intense as the curse itself.

"The Deadlock Curse," Agatha read out loud, sucking in air and dramatically grimacing at Bucky, "You see, right here, it says that the Deadlock Curse only happens when someone—mortal men with unnaturally strong jawlines such as yourself—unjustly kill a witch!" She explained, the patronizing tone in her voice didn't go unnoticed by either of you two.

Bucky said nothing as his expression darkened, jaw clenching once again with the underlying tension coming to the surface. In this moment, you wondered if maybe your heart would race at the same pace at Bucky's if you had your body, but you knew that it was nowhere near what he was probably anticipating.

"Oh, don't get so bent out of shape---no judgement here!" Agatha waved him off, but it did nothing to settle the dark tension around him. "It's always us cute ones who have sordid pasts." Agatha winked with that trouble-making, wide grin.

Agatha levitated the book closer as she started walking slowly once more toward you two, "I just find it funny that the witch you've apparently killed… must've helped you find me, and not only that, but apparently wants to help you—the unlucky bastard—get rid of it!" She chuckled.

"It's complicated." Bucky's low tone and gruff voice made you swallow; this was heading south very quickly, the snowball was building to an avalanche of a problem.

"Oh, I'm not saying it isn't true. I'm just wondering which little witch you killed." Agatha held open her hands as she gave him a pointed, feigning innocent, look. "I don't exactly have the reputation that holds great standing within the community, so either, this little witch—" She gestured around him with her finger, "either has a personal vendetta against me, and maybe promised you some sort of redemption in my demise or severely underestimates my ability to enjoy ironic curses."

"You make a lot of assumptions." Bucky quickly spat.

"You dodge answers like a man with something to hide," Agatha bit back, tilting her head, "Or maybe the witch does."

The two stared each other down, witch and soldier assessing while simultaneously challenging the other to speak first. Agatha would've wanted drama, a plea from him to her to understand his actions, or a confession she deemed worthy of mocking.

Bucky looked like he was grappling with what to do, or say, and keeping his stormy expression set in stone was his only defense in not giving Agatha what she wanted. There was no other way around it; Agatha needed to see you, and you needed to rip off the band-aid from a wound that clearly hadn't healed.

"Tell her to try and conjure my spirit," Your voice wavered at the end, exposing the trembling nerve that flared when you realized what you had said.

"You sure that's a good idea?" He muttered to you, his eyes never leaving Agatha, who slowly smirked.

"She's cornered you into the truth now," You exhaled, "She's not going to let you try and talk your way out of this; she wants to know… she wants to know who's haunting you."

You watched as his jaw clenched once more before motioning to Agatha with his chin. "She says to conjure her spirit… to show you."

Agatha hummed once more, thinking it over before nodding, "Great, but kinda hard not to do that without at least a name."

"Still possible when the energy is present," Your retort was quick for him to answer her.

"She says it's possible."

Agatha raised her eyebrows, her lips puckering slightly, "Knowledgeable little witch, isn't she?" Agatha sucked on her teeth for a moment before throwing her hands up. "Fine! Little witch, little witch, reveal yourself." She teased before moving her hands in a synchronized fashion.

More purple energy swirled around her hands before a stream of it had zig-zagged toward the direction you were standing and encompassed around you.

You felt the energy wrap around your being, something nearly indescribable running through your entire being as the purple magic materialized your translucent self before her. Agatha, whose amused and mischievous smirk had melted into a frown, flinched back in shock and confusion upon realizing who stood before her.

The silence was suffocating, locked in time and space as everything seemed to stop. Your swallowed, brows furrowed with hesitancy, nervousness and overall the feeling of being seen by someone. It wasn't like when Bucky finally saw you; the way your aunt didn't reject your spirit was a far cry difference in comparison.

She took a hesitant step forward, eyes becoming glassy and watering, the tip of her nose already reddening.

Her voice came out strangled when she said your name, thick with remnants of grief she must've felt, and a hint of relief as she took another step forward. Her hand reached out, faltering in its movements as it hovered over the side of your face. You felt my own throat tighten as you gave her a soft, saddened smile.

"Aunt Aggy," You breathed.

She shook her head, sniffed before something else took over on her expression. Molten lava of white hot anger when she realized what this meant, and put together the situation. Her dampened eyes flickered over to Bucky to glare with intensity that flared with her purple hue.

"Agatha---Agatha, wait!" You started, your hands thrown up in front of her, but this did not stop her hands from glowing to life with her energy once more.

"You… killed my niece?!"

A/N: holy shit...... that took a while to get out, didn't it? LOL sorry for keeping you all waiting. I went through a very difficult time through 2025, but who didn't? Let's start the year off right with a chapter update! I tried to edit and update my old chapter bc it was horribly rushed and just... a shame compared to my other works. I hope you enjoy it!! I'll have to keep on track with the next chapters before for you guys <3

P.S. any mistakes there I simply couldn't find with my eyes, so if you find them and want to let me know, I won't mind. Other than that, I will live with it lol

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