Chapter Text
“Tell me again why we had to come all the way to Wakanda to build this time-machine-thingy?” you asked, smirking over your shoulder at Tony. He shot you a look sharp enough to cut through vibranium.
“Don’t push it, Pumpkin.”
Pumpkin.
The nickname still made you smile. Tony had given it to you years ago, back when you were thirteen—lost, overwhelmed, and desperately in need of someone to believe in you. Fate (or sheer dumb luck) had led you into the same coffee shop as Tony Stark, where a stranger managed to dump their pumpkin spice latte all over you. Tony had laughed, called you “Pumpkin,” and somehow, that was the beginning of everything.
He became your mentor. Your best friend. And—though neither of you said it out loud—the closest thing to a father you’d ever had. Which was probably why you were one of the only humans alive who could poke fun at Tony Stark and still get away with it.
An oil-stained rag sailed toward your head. You snatched it out of the air, laughing. You knew as well as he did that there was no chance of building a time machine at the compound—not with the limited space and resources. Much to Tony’s dramatic despair, Wakanda was the only realistic place to pull this off.
T’Challa agreed to help the moment Tony told him the mission: destroy HYDRA once and for all. The plan? Travel back to 1943 and nudge history in the right direction—steal a few documents, lock the right doors, stop the wrong people from ever meeting. Easy.
Well… easy in theory.
And because you had zero connections to that time period—no awkward family encounters or paradoxes waiting to happen—the job went to you. You didn’t hesitate. You’d spent years proving yourself, physically and mentally, over and over again. But this mission was different. This one was yours alone to complete.
Only a fool would’ve turned it down.
And Tony Stark’s protégé was many things… but she wasn’t a fool.
…Right?
Your gaze dropped to your left arm, where a dull ache still pulsed beneath the thin fabric covering your skin.
“You remind me of my soulmate.”
Even thinking about the words made your stomach twist. Hearing that sentence from a stranger would’ve been awkward at best… but hearing it from the man fate had supposedly chosen for you? A nightmare.
Almost no one knew about the sentence burned into your skin—the first words your soulmate would ever say to you. Only three people: Tony, Shuri… and Sergeant Barnes. Bucky, as he always corrected you.
Tony had found out during one of your many late-night talks about soulmates. You’d shown him the tattoo, voice small, heart pounding.
“Don’t worry, Pumpkin. It’ll be alright,” he’d told you, his hand warm and reassuring on your shoulder.
You appreciated the comfort… even if you knew he didn’t fully believe it himself.
Shuri discovered the tattoo shortly after you arrived in Wakanda—all because you’d carelessly shrugged off your jacket. She’d lit up with excitement.
“Fate makes no mistakes,” she’d said, unusually serious for once.
You wanted to believe her. You really did. But…
Bucky.
He was the one who spoke those dreaded words. The wrong words.
It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn’t have surprised you that your first words to him didn’t match what he once had. But still, the disappointment hit like a punch to the gut.
“I’m sorry… those weren’t my words,” he’d murmured, eyes drifting to his left arm—the one he no longer had. “It’s strange. I lost my arm decades ago, but sometimes it feels like the tattoo is still there. I met her—my soulmate—before I shipped out to England…”
His voice had faded into a wistful silence, a soft, aching smile tugging at his lips.
You’d bitten your lip, nodded once, and excused yourself before your voice cracked. Which was how you ended up here, hiding in Tony’s workshop, desperate for distraction.
“Hey, Pumpkin! Are you listening?!”
Another rag smacked the back of your head, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Yeah, yeah. What were you saying?” You grinned, too quickly.
Tony’s eyes narrowed. He knew something was eating at you—but he also knew you well enough not to push. You’d talk when you were ready.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this mission? We can still find someone else,” he said, wiping his hands as he approached.
You straightened, chin lifting.
“Of course I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this from the moment I was chosen. I can do this.”
Tony hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, Pumpkin. Just remember—you can always come back if it gets too overwhelming.” He pulled you into a half hug before turning back to the machinery.
“So… how does this actually work?” you asked, eyeing the sleek, watch-like device that would soon fling you decades into the past. “I just pick the date I want and press the red button?”
Tony nodded. “And remember: don’t tell anyone who you are or where you’re from,” he finished, wrapping up the long list of safety precautions.
“That’s the most important thing!” Shuri cut in as she rejoined the conversation. “We only want to alter one thread in the timeline: HYDRA. Do not interfere with anything else. Tampering with the past could have terrible, terrible consequences,” she emphasized, raising a finger sternly.
“People could vanish from existence, crucial events might never happen… the world could end up far worse than we know it,” Tony added—his eyes drifting across the workshop to the man who had just walked in.
“Or maybe we do…” he muttered under his breath, earning a swat from you against his shoulder.
“What’s up, Captain?” you asked, closing the mission file you’d been reviewing.
Steve grinned—a relaxed, almost playful expression that was rare enough to be mildly concerning.
“Dinner’s ready.”
You couldn’t remember the last time the Avengers all sat around one table, eating and laughing like a real family. It felt good—freeing—to forget your anxiety for a little while and just soak in the warmth around you.
Until your eyes met a pair of familiar steel-blue ones.
Bucky was watching you from across the table. When you caught his gaze, he offered a small smile—kind, gentle… and incredibly painful. The tension between you had only grown since meeting earlier. How could it not?
He was your soulmate.
But you weren’t his.
You had grown up hearing stories about soulmates—how magical and instant the bond was, how people fell hopelessly in love the moment they found each other. Those stories were meant to be comforting. Instead, they’d been the source of every fear and sleepless night.
Because nothing could’ve prepared you for this.
It was magical—breathtaking—to look into the eyes of the person fate had chosen for you… only to realize fate had not chosen you back.
You thought you had made peace with being soulmate-less. Turns out, acceptance was fragile—and it shattered the moment Bucky Barnes smiled at you.
You couldn’t stand his expression—that soft pity, that sorrowful tenderness—kindness that your bruised heart desperately wanted to mistake for affection.
But it wasn’t.
And the truth burned worse than the tattoo on your arm ever had.