Summary: Bucky has always been intrigued by Y/N, one of the enhanced agents living at the compound, but he can never seem to actually talk to her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4883
Warnings: Fluff, language, sparring, minor angst, smut, little bit of dom!reader
A/N: This is for @captain-kelli's "Don't Call It A Comeback Tour" writing challenge. Welcome back Kelli! My selected dialogue prompt is in bold in the fic, and I just made it under the 5000 word count limit, haha! I haven't written smut in quite a while, so I am a tad rusty, but I really hope you all enjoy! This was beta’d by the lovely @idjitmonkey.
Marvel Masterlist
Bucky could hear echoing dull thuds of flesh hitting flesh, the familiar sound drawing him in like a siren’s call as he passed the doorway to the large training gym in the Avengers compound. Was it odd he could tell from the softness of the sound that whatever pair currently sparring were pulling their punches? Sure. Was it something he’d mentioned to anyone else before? Absolutely not.
Precision was ingrained in him during his captivity, and he got so good he could calculate exactly how much force from either arm would cause serious injury, break a bone, or even kill depending on the parameters of his mission. It wasn’t something he liked to reflect on, and with one last shiver as a long forgotten memory faded away, Bucky continued forward through the open doors into the training room.
Since it was a little past eleven at night, most of the lights in the room were off, save for two emergency lights on either end of the room and the large bulb dangling over the classic boxing ring in the middle of the room. Steve had literally gotten on his knees to beg Tony for a boxing ring when they’d moved into the compound, and the genius had actually sputtered and turned a shade of red so deep he looked like he had a bad sunburn before he caved and agreed to build one. It was reinforced and supersoldier-proof thanks to some kind of special metal weaving Tony made sure he bragged about, but it looked like the same ring Bucky would be in every Friday night after his shift at the docks back in the forties.
This time, however, the two people dancing around the ring were none other than Y/N and Natasha. While he vaguely remembered Natasha from his time assigned to the KGB training the Widows in the Red Room, Y/N was an interesting woman he’d met only six months ago when he fully moved into the compound. He knew she was an inhuman, but her abilities still were a mystery. When he tried to access her file a month ago when his curiosity got the best of him, it was so heavily classified that not even he or Steve could access it.
Tucking his left arm behind his body so any light reflecting off the black metal wouldn’t alert them to his presence, he slid along the wall and hid in the shadows to watch the two women sparring. Natasha was a formidable opponent, anyone who’d dared to spar with her knew that, but Y/N was holding her own, anticipating attacks and almost matching the redhead blow for blow. It was like a choreographed dance of fists and feet, each blow coming from Y/N took advantage of any open spot of Natasha’s with expert timing.
“So, you excited?” Natasha said through heavy breaths, a slight teasing tone in her voice as she blocked Y/N’s kick with her forearm.
Y/N scoffed, dropped down into a squat, and swept her leg out to try and catch Natasha, but she easily dodged it. “You act like this is my first time out in the field. I have been on missions before.”
The redhead shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you can’t get excited. I see the sunrise every morning, doesn't mean I get any less excited because of the frequency.”
Natasha slapped Y/N’s incoming punch away and used her momentarily unguarded knee as a step, launching herself up sideways to wrap her legs around Y/N’s neck. Bucky’s been on the receiving end of that move and he winced in sympathy when Y/N flailed and fell forward into a tumble before she slammed into the floor of the boxing ring on her back. Natasha’s legs were still wrapped around Y/N’s neck keeping her pinned to the ground, and she pulled back on Y/N’s arm until she grunted in pain.
“Dammit,” Y/N grumbled before she reached her other arm out and slapped the ground twice.
Natasha released Y/N with a soft giggle that was somewhat disconcerting coming from someone who just took down an opponent that hard in mere seconds. “It gets ‘em every time, don’t worry.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not one of the new vanilla agents that gets stunned and freezes up the first time you wrap your thighs around their face,” Y/N said with a laugh, slowly getting to her feet. She crossed her left arm over her chest to stretch it and Bucky’s eyes widened with how flexible she was; her arm was almost wrapped all the way around her torso. “Damn, you would have dislocated my shoulder if I wasn’t enhanced.”
Natasha hummed an affirmative noise and bent down to grab her water bottle and a towel to dry the sweat from her face. “I know you can take it. And I push you because I care.”
“Awww, spider has a heart after all,” Y/N teased, pressing a palm to her chest. She laughed and easily plucked the towel Natasha threw at her face out of the air before it could hit its target. When Natasha began to unwrap her hands, Y/N jerked her chin toward the bench press she knew the redhead favored. “You need me to spot yah?”
Natasha shook her head. “Nah, I’m just gonna finish up with some cardio on the treadmill. Good luck tomorrow, don’t be afraid to ask for backup even though we all know you can handle yourself.”
Y/N stuck her tongue out at Natasha before she gathered her bag and water bottle and gracefully slid between the ropes of the boxing ring, walked across the gym, and through the doors. Bucky was still staring at the empty doorway Y/N had walked through when Natasha’s voice made him startle.
“You can come out now, prizrak.”
Bucky sheepishly stepped out from the shadows and walked toward where Natasha was leaning over the ropes, glaring at him. “I wasn’t… watching to be creepy. I’m just curious about her.”
“Curious about what exactly?” Natasha asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Come on, Romanoff, you obviously know her better than anyone. Tell me about her,” Bucky pleaded with a whine in his voice. “What’s her powers? How’d she get them? All of her personnel files are classified and what few missions she has been on are redacted.”
Natasha only tilted her head and blinked at him twice before she started giggling. When Bucky growled at her, she only laughed harder, throwing her head back and clutching her stomach.
“I can make you talk, Romanoff,” Bucky threatened, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.
Natasha used the elasticity of the ropes around the boxing ring to launch herself forward through the air, landing with practiced ease a few inches from Bucky. “You wouldn’t dare, kotenok,” Natasha purred, patting Bucky on his cheek.
“Natalia,” Bucky growled through his teeth. He wasn’t angry at her; he wasn’t really angry in general, it was just a lot of his swirling emotions manifested through the mask of anger he’d gotten used to wearing all the time. It was something he was working on with his therapist.
“James,” she quipped back, her defensive expression softening when she saw the frustration in his eyes. “Come on, don’t give me that look. If you want to get to know her better, talk to her. Or spar with her. You always get chatty when you spar.”
“I’ve tried,” Bucky whined, throwing his arms up in the air, “but every time I’m down here she’s either busy somewhere else, already sparring, or leaves before I have a chance to ask.” It happened often enough that he was starting to think she had something against him or didn’t like him.
Natasha, in all of her wisdom, merely lifted a shoulder in a shrug and grabbed the towel she’d thrown at Y/N where it was sitting in the corner of the ring. “Persistence is key.”
With a flip of red hair, she sauntered out of the gym, leaving Bucky rooted to his spot. Even though he was more frustrated than he was an hour ago, he had to admire Natasha’s ability to answer questions without actually giving any answers. Bucky shook his head and sighed before he headed over to the reinforced punching bags in the corner to work off some steam.
***
“Your shadow is back.”
Anne, the agent holding Y/N’s feet while she did sit ups, nodded her head toward the back wall of the gym where the one and only Bucky Barnes was standing. Again.
When Y/N and Natasha had sparred that one night almost four weeks ago, she’d known he was there the second he walked into the room. She was going to call him out for being creepy after ten minutes of him just hiding in the shadows and watching, but Natasha’s subtle shake of her head had made Y/N bite her tongue and stay quiet. Ever since that night, Bucky’s cobalt eyes have watched her almost every time she’s been in the gym, but for some reason he had yet to approach her, and each time Y/N had started to walk over to him, he disappeared from the room like someone lit a fire under his ass.
It was incredibly frustrating.
“Yeah, well, he can watch all he wants,” Y/N growled, rapidly finishing up her last set of twenty-five sit ups. “If my reassignment request goes through, I’ll be in Europe leading my own team of agents by this time next month and he’ll have to find someone else to menacingly stare at.”
Bucky had heard the entire exchange from his spot across the gym, but aside from a small tick of his jaw, he kept his face blank. Y/N’s reassignment request was news to him, and while he would be disappointed if she left, leading your own team was a huge opportunity and would really launch her career. He’d been asked to lead a team of agents a few times by Hill, but he always refused; the last thing he wanted was to be part of another Strike Team.
In all honesty, Bucky truly was in awe of her. He admired her fighting style and stamina, but every time he started to walk over to her to request a spar, she would begin speaking with someone else or start slowly packing up her stuff to leave. Even when he tried to intentionally run into her in the hallway by accident, she somehow managed to completely evade him and would already be in the gym by the time he gave up on trying to bump into her.
Y/N was an enigma wrapped in a puzzle box, and he had no idea where to even begin.
The quiet whisper of shifting fabric coming from behind him made him smirk, and he quickly brought his flesh arm up to block the hand trying to slap the back of his head. “Nice try, punk. I’m not that easy to sneak up on anymore.”
Steve let out a defeated sigh that turned into a soft laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What are you doing down here anyways? I thought you’d be sleeping.”
Bucky had just returned from a three-day mission in Argentina and hadn’t slept since he left, but who’s counting. “Yeah, me too.”
Steve raised a brow at his best friend and scanned the gym, following Bucky’s eyeline to see what he was looking at. When he saw Y/N getting up from one of the mats to shake another agent’s hand, he snorted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Ah.”
Bucky jerked his head sideways and glared at Steve. “What?”
The blonde supersoldier only smiled. “You know, the only things that should pine around here are the trees outside.”
Bucky took a swing, but instead of connecting with Steve’s fat head, his fist only glided through air. Steve was already halfway across the room in a sprint and shrugged when Bucky glared at him. “Asshole.”
Steve winked at Bucky, which was never a good sign, and his stomach plummeted to his knees when Steve walked right up to Y/N and began talking to her. She immediately straightened her posture and clasped her hands behind her to stand at attention when he approached, but whatever Steve murmured made her relax again. Steve was speaking just quiet enough for Bucky’s enhanced hearing not to be able to pick up what he was saying.
“Double asshole,” he growled before spinning on his heel and storming from the gym.
Bucky still wasn’t tired, but he found himself headed back toward the residential wing anyways, forcing himself to relax his face when a few agents he’d passed in the hallway stared at him with wide eyes before practically jumping out of his way in fear. After a quick pit stop in the kitchen for a power bar, he tore it open and shoved the whole thing into his mouth as he turned down the hallway leading to his room.
“Just the guy I was looking for.”
Bucky froze mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as Y/N pushed off the wall directly across from the door to his room. “Huh?”
Bucky chewed and swallowed the remaining bits of the power bar that were left in his suddenly dry mouth. “My problem?”
“Is there an echo in here?” Y/N snapped, taking a few steps closer to him. “I don’t know what I’ve done to warrant you constantly—and creepily, by the way—watching me, but if you feel intimidated, that’s your problem, not mine.”
“Doll, I’m not intimidated,” Bucky began, holding his hands up in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal. “Every time I’ve wanted to talk to you or to ask to spar, you’ve dodged me or started talking to someone else. If anyone’s intimidated, I’d say it would be you.”
Y/N’s mouth dropped open in shock before she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, clearly amused. “You don’t scare me, Barnes. I never asked you to spar because you were always just watching me! Every time I started to walk over to you, you disappeared. I even packed up my stuff really slowly just to give you plenty of time to come over and talk to me. You never did.”
Bucky’s head jerked back as if he’d just been slapped. “What?!”
“What?!” Y/N parroted back at him, just as confused. Several beats of dead silence passed between them before she opened her mouth again. “I thought—”
“You both are idiots. Glad you finally figured it out.” Natasha grinned at them from the end of the hallway before walking to her door and disappearing inside.
A few long seconds passed while the two of them got their thoughts straight. Bucky began analyzing the last few weeks of observing Y/N, realizing just how slow she was returning things to her bag, leaving him ample time to approach her. Y/N on the other hand thought about the times she’d caught Bucky’s eyes on her when she was sparring, and the clear admiration on his face when she’d taken someone down.
Bucky shook his head at his own idiocy, the tension in his body quickly dissipating. “Wow.”
“Yep.” Y/N exhaled out of her nose, wondering how she could have missed what was so obvious.
“Wanna spar?” Bucky asked at the same time as Y/N did, making them both start laughing.
The smile that curled Y/N’s lips made Bucky shiver in anticipation. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
***
“I still don’t know what your powers are,” Bucky announced that evening as he tore the end of the hand wrap tape with his teeth and pressed the edge firmly down against his right palm. “Your secrets are locked up tight, doll.”
“It was part of my deal with Maria,” Y/N said as she slipped out of her jacket, leaving her in a tank top and a pair of black leggings that went just past her knee. “You could have asked me, you know, instead of snooping.”
“Yeah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty.” Bucky sighed and rolled his neck, stepping forward toward the middle of the boxing ring. “I thought you were avoiding me on purpose.”
Y/N caught herself admiring Bucky’s physique, letting her eyes linger on his thick arms and muscular legs as he stretched. “To be honest, I thought you knew what my power was and that’s why you were avoiding me.”
Bucky’s heart skipped and he could feel the frigid chill of adrenaline flooding his veins. “Why do you say that?”
Y/N held out her hand and slowly lifted it up. Bucky grunted in confusion when his metal arm began to move on its own, slowly lifting straight up to follow the arc of Y/N’s hand. He tried to fight the movement, but neither his arm nor his shoulder would respond to anything he was thinking. Y/N had complete control over his arm, leaving him unable to even escape if he wanted to. He could detach his arm, sure, but his shoulder was also made of vibranium as well.
“They called me Slag… the people who had me. Mostly because of this,” Y/N wiggled her fingers, making Bucky’s metal arm jiggle up and down, “but also because I had quite the mouth on me. Cursed them out every chance I could until they finally decided to keep me so drugged up that I couldn’t fight back while they did their procedures and ran their tests.”
Bucky’s eyes hardened. Yet another person who was victimized by human experimentation and had been rescued by SHIELD and rehabilitated, just like him. He was thinking about starting a club.
Y/N mistook Bucky’s pensive face for unease and released her control on his arm. “Sorry, I should have asked before I,” she waved her hand around and wiggled her fingers.
Bucky rotated his shoulder all the way around to reset his arm, wiggling his fingers when the quick calibration cycle finished. “It’s fine. So you can only control vibranium?”
“Not just control,” Y/N murmured quietly, holding out her hand in front of her, palm up. Deep sapphire beads a few millimeters in size began to roll down her skin from a small bump on her wrist to pool in the middle of her hand. “My blood is sixty percent vibranium, I can pull the molecules of it out of my blood to use as whatever I want.”
A quick flick of her wrist had the pool of liquid vibranium turning into a dagger that was about five inches in length. It floated perfectly still in front of her, until she began to twist and twirl her finger. The dagger responded to her and followed the same movement of her hand as it sliced through the air. The dagger had a deep blue glow to it that seemed to glitter in the darkness of the room, making it almost seem ethereal. Bucky could admit it was a handy trick to have, even if the residual Winter Soldier part of his brain found it unsettling.
“So, yeah,” Y/N said quietly, ducking her chin as she held open her hand again, “that’s my power.” The dagger seemed to almost melt back into a blob of liquid vibranium before it gathered in her palm and disappeared back into the same bump in her wrist it emerged from. She could tell Bucky was uncomfortable, and it was the main reason why her power was kept so secret. People could be cruel and judgmental.
“So you’re like that Logan fella? The one who has ada-whatever in his body?” Bucky asked.
Y/N shook her head, her cheeks heating up in shame. “Logan’s skeleton is made out of adamantium. I only have the vibranium in my blood, my bones are still standard issue. I’m a lot more durable than the average human, though, since there are millions of blood vessels running right under the surface of your skin.”
Y/N was too busy staring at her feet, hoping a hole would open up to swallow her whole, to notice Bucky had moved closer and was now standing in front of her. When he reached up and lifted her chin with his finger so she’d look at him, she jerked in surprise.
“Sorry, forgot how quiet I can be,” Bucky murmured. “But you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you can do. Just like how mine is a part of me,” he lifted his metal arm and wiggled his fingers, “yours is, too. It’s just on the inside instead of on the outside. Thank you for telling me, for trusting me. Your secret is safe with me, doll.”
“You’re not freaked out?” Y/N asked, eyes wide. In the past, everyone she’d shown her power to had immediately ran in fear or wanted her locked up. Well, all except Natasha, but the woman didn’t seem to be unnerved by much of anything.
“Nah. I’m not freaked out or scared… it’s more curiosity than anything.” Bucky smirked, rocking back on his heels. “Just makes me admire you even more.” And he was telling the truth. Something had always drawn him to her, and it was about time he stopped fighting it.
“You still wanna spar?” Y/N asked, cautiously optimistic.
“Hell yeah!” Bucky smirked as he bounced from foot to foot, shaking out his arms. “But no using your powers, okay?”
Y/N matched Bucky’s smirk. ”If you think I need my powers to kick your ass, you’re gonna be in for a rude awakening.”
The two of them charged forward at the same time, exchanging blow after blow in a flurry of limbs. Y/N could tell Bucky was pulling the punches from his metal arm, but she didn’t blame him—he didn’t really understand just how durable she really was. Bucky was bulkier than a lot of the agents Y/N had fought previously, but his bulk made his movements easier to track and anticipate, giving her the upper hand.
Sometimes.
Bucky landed a lucky punch to Y/N’s shoulder, making her stumble backward, which allowed him to take advantage of her unsteady footing. He dove forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tackled her to the ground, using his body weight to pin her underneath him. Even though he could feel her heartbeat against his arm where it was wrapped around her waist, his super hearing allowed him to hear the sharp intake of breath she took right before her heart skipped.
They were tangled together, and Y/N bit her lip when she felt Bucky’s hot breath puff against her neck. He had one of her legs trapped between his, his arm wrapped tight around her body, and he jerked his head back to flip his hair out of his face so he could look down at her. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned her head to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushing an even darker pink than the exertion had already caused.
Bucky licked his lips. “Am I the only one feeling whatever is going on here?”
Y/N smiled and—thanks to a move learned from Natasha—twisted her body, pulled her leg out from between Bucky’s and wrapped it around his hip. One hard push against the floor of the boxing ring and Y/N flipped Bucky over onto his back, her leg bent tightly to keep him immobile and her forearm pressed down hard across his throat as she hovered over him.
“Nope.”
Bucky lunged forward, ignoring the pressure against his throat, and slammed his lips against hers. The sudden movement made her freeze as she rocked backward, but she quickly and enthusiastically reciprocated when she felt Bucky’s arm wrap around her back to steady her and keep her in his lap, one leg on either side of his thighs. The kiss was sloppy and frantic, and when Bucky pulled back to bring his hands up to the middle of her tank top and raised his eyebrow, she nodded.
The tanktop and her sports bra were torn right down the middle leaving her exposed, and she gasped when the chill of his metal hand cupped her breast, instantly pebbling her nipple. Bucky kissed and sucked his way across Y/N’s breasts, pinching and nibbling to ensure neither mound was neglected. Y/N tugged at Bucky’s tank top, which he quickly pulled over his head, before she threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged.
“Shit,” Bucky gasped, then moaned when she rotated her hips to grind down right over his rapidly filling cock. The thin material of his shorts did little to hide his arousal, and Y/N sighed dreamily when she felt the hard warmth of him twitch against her core. “Are you on—”
“Yup. Get inside me now, Barnes,” Y/N commanded. Most female agents were on some form of birth control, but the fact Bucky still had the awareness to double check made her stomach do flips.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky murmured, reaching down between their bodies to rip the middle of Y/N’s leggings open and slide her panties to the side so he could run a finger through her slick folds. “Damn, so fuckin’ wet already.”
“What can I say, kicking your ass is very pleasurable,” Y/N quipped.
Judging by the low growl that rumbled from Bucky’s chest, she knew she was in for a wild ride. Bucky reached down, pushed his shorts and boxer briefs down just far enough to free his cock, and gave himself a few slow strokes. Y/N licked her lips, wanting to get her mouth on that beautifully thick cock at some point in the near future. She scooted forward, lifted herself up, and slowly lowered herself down on his cock.
The stretch was intense, but she took it slow, lifting and lowering every few inches as her walls stretched to accommodate his considerable size. By the time she was fully seated, they both were breathing heavily, and Bucky had fallen backward so he was completely flat on his back, his hands clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to slam himself up inside her wet heat. It was like there was a fist wrapped in silk around his cock, and he groaned loudly when she began to rotate her hips just like she did earlier to tease him.
“Fuckin’ hell, doll, so good,” Bucky groaned, his praise rewarded by some quick and downright maddening hip movements from Y/N. “Shit, I’m… it’s been a while.”
Y/N nodded, it had also been a while for her as well, but she was going to enjoy this no matter what. As her pace increased and she began to ride his cock in earnest, her fingers began to rub circles on her clit. When Bucky reached his metal hand forward with the intention of taking over, she used her abilities to pin his vibranium arm to the floor of the boxing ring, a teasing smirk on her face.
“Hey, I thought we agreed on no powers,” Bucky huffed, then gasped when Y/N began to slam her hips down, taking the entire length of his cock each time.
“We’re,” she slammed down, “not technically,” another slam and grind of her hips, “sparring anymore.”
The liquid heat pooling in Y/N’s stomach jumped in intensity, sending tingling sparks of pleasure through her veins. Another few circles of her clit sent her fully over the edge, and she arched her back as she came, her body twitching and jerking at the sheer power behind it.
Bucky nearly howled in pleasure at the feeling of her pussy tightening down on him, and he sat up, thankful her power was no longer pinning his metal arm, so he could wrap his flesh arm around her to keep her steady while she rode out her climax. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow behind her, burying his face between her breasts and moaning loudly as he came, his cock pulsing in time with her walls around him.
They slumped against each other, panting as they came down from the haze of orgasmic bliss. Bucky lifted his head and smiled lazily, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s lips when she met his eyes. The two of them stayed wrapped up in one another for several minutes, until Y/N finally lifted herself up and rolled to the side to lay down on her back next to Bucky, ignoring the mess cooling between her thighs.
“I really wish I asked you to spar months ago,” Bucky commented, laughing when Y/N slapped his chest with the back of her hand.
“Asshole,” Y/N said through a laugh before reaching down to take his metal hand in hers, interweaving her fingers between each of the vibranium digits. “But yeah, me too.”
Natasha and Steve stepped back from the small window in the door of the gym, looked at each other, smiled, and fist bumped before turning in opposite directions and walking away.
and I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter
Flâneur – a person of leisure who strolls aimlessly, observing life and society
This is an entry for @captain-kelli ‘s #ckcomebacktour. Prompt above. 1384 words.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: mentions of war, blood, injury, ache, loneliness. Please let me know if I’ve forgotten anything and I’ll add it.
A/N: This is the first time I’ve posted something I don’t fully consider to be normal narrative prose but is instead prose poetry, so I’m a little nervous and I hope you like it! (Dividers by the talented @firefly-graphics, and title from the song evermore by Taylor Swift.)
I – Washington D.C.
Made of leather and metal, standing like the ghost of every war passed in one shape, one immortal soul, one oh-so-fragile body. The river soaks him through, the river baptizes him in cattails and freshwater, and he walks along the edge of the apocalypse, abandoning his failed savior on the bank. Sometimes, salvation cannot be granted. Sometimes, salvation is just another name for the lonely road home, if one can remember what home is, that is.
Amnesiac soldier, lost boy, frozen over, eyes like glazed ice. What does a weapon do when his bloodlust turns to dust in the wind? He doesn’t even remember the trenches now, for all their booming glory, for all their unforgettable shock. He knows mud, though. In the hair, under the nails, between the toes, the nose, the air itself. Funny how a grave can smell so fresh, the petrichor rebirthing you from the dirt.
The memories are ink in water, Brooklyn is dissipating fog at the docks, a boy with straw hair and ocean eyes winks at him from beyond the sea mist, and for a moment, the ghost is tangible. For the breath of an ached sigh, he is a man, not failed weapon drenched in river-water. For a second of peace amidst all the war, someone wants him, someone remembers him, even if he does not.
A woman watches from the roadside as a wanderer emerges from the wreck.
II – Oslo
The snow-white slate of the opera house descends into the fjord like a ski-slope. It’s cleaner than the Potomac. Seagulls line the sky, pearls stitched into a cotton gray cloud cover. The sun is hiding from the incoming blizzard under its domain, beyond its authority. The man strolls on the sidewalk, pretends he does not see the ghost of a woman on the other side of the road.
The woman is not foe, and not friend either, just yet. Wrapped in a silk headscarf and a white jacket, her shaking hands buried in her pockets, her historian eyes follow the breathing miracle of his existence. He is not artifact, not peace treaty or war declaration, but he is a fossil. Someone she cannot help but want to uncover, want to brush the dust and the ice off of, want to talk to like he can answer with the hundred years of wisdom trapped beneath calcium and marrow.
Of course, he can’t. He is as silent as bone, as still as dinosaur skeleton, reassembled with prayers and steel, polished with an anachronistic glow. The woman has not spent decades being killed and reborn, but she too is worn, and she, too, is alone. Doesn’t everyone want someone who can embrace one’s lonely as they tear it to pieces, leave it fluttering like a ragged flag honoring the barren land one used to be?
The man turns to look at her and smiles, unnervingly, teeth like Norwegian winter.
III – Buenos Aires
There are farms on the outskirts of the city, like there are on the outskirts of most cities, and this is where she talks to him. He comes and sits on the front steps of the cartoonishly picturesque farmhouse she is renting, and waits for her to appear in his periphery, in the kitchen window looking out. The first time he does, she pretends to be surprised, as though she hasn’t been waiting, as though she hasn’t failed to settle the itch in her stomach that claws like a forest fire, as though she hasn’t almost given up hope when he appears.
Icarus with the fractured wings lands on her loaned stoop, feathers stained with blood and all. Honey, she wants to say, where is the blood coming from when you have been hollowed out? Will you teach me how to make it stop? Will you prove to me that this much desolation can end at a home’s hearth? This, she doesn’t say, because the sentences are to the sentiment what David was to Goliath. Instead, she talks about the little things. Fills all the empty with words like fountains, washing away whatever they can.
Sometimes, she reads, usually from a research paper she has written, or from one of her many books. The words spill like waterfalls alongside the scent of whatever pie she is baking that day and he consumes both, a man starved. He does not offer more than a nod of thanks and the touch of his fingertips against the back of her hand when accepting a plate. The distance keeps him sane. The proximity breathes hope back into him.
She could do this forever, live off this bare minimum, but she also thinks, come inside; you’ve been in the cold for long enough.
IV – Kumasi
By Ghana, he is speaking. By Ghana, he has had enough months of space to long for not just her voice, but a voice, and it might as well be his. This is why, when she finds him again – this time, it is because he has sent her a postcard – he walks with her past the zoological gardens, past the buildings that glimmer like daydreams, past the Kejetia Market crowds staring at him because he is a tourist out of season, as he tries to figure out what the right thing to say is.
The God’s honest truth is, there is no right thing to say. How do you address a lifetime of layered pain and the year or so the kindest stranger has devoted to chipping away at all the rock-solid hurt? Angel with the chisel and brush, paleontologist with the halo and pen. Salvation needs to be earned, salvation needs to be learned, and she has been the best teacher.
The playground of a local elementary school is a ghost town, and they watch the swings sway on their own, until he says, “Thank you”. He says, “I don’t know who I am but I know I need you”. He says, “I’m not safe but I feel that way when you’re talking to me”. He says, “Thank you for writing”. He says, “Your pies are the best I’ve ever had”. He says, “Would you like to have dinner with me at this place that makes waakye like heaven? I think I owe you a few.”
Love feeds; love eats.
V – Rawalpindi
They meet in the Haleem Ghar with smiles that speak of promise, wearing rings so the other patrons don’t harass them for inappropriate fraternization. The locals still stare. It can’t be helped, the man thinks. They do make a striking duo, eyes glittering like diamonds in yellow light. In the end, God solves that problem for them, putting out the bulbs as load shedding begins at the top of this hour. Her hand lands upon his, a sparrow coming home, and he holds her fingers gently.
It’s hot as hell, and heat rises as the ceiling fans slow. For the minutes taken for a restaurant employee to turn on the generator, it is quiet. It is peaceful in the dark, and he isn’t afraid of monsters, or ghosts, or dead things that bite, because he is the scariest of them all, and right now, he is also the safest, because he is not alone. When the light returns, they look at the map on the table. There’s a constellation of highlighted locations on it, all of them mostly random.
Hope is an acquired taste, foreign on his tongue, too sweet too much too fast, a cotton candy liberty that crystallizes into the North Star he holds onto for balance, for trajectory. It’s an epiphany: at any given time, you are the sum of your past, present, and future, and, paradoxically, independent of all three. You are only your intentions.
The future is there for them to touch, to have and to hold, for better or for worse.
A woman watches from the roadside as a wanderer emerges from the wreck.
The man turns to look at her and smiles, unnervingly, teeth like Norwegian winter.
She could do this forever, live off this bare minimum, but she also thinks, come inside; you’ve been in the cold for long enough.
Love feeds; love eats.
The future is there for them to touch, to have and to hold, for better or for worse.
Summary: When you and Steve get stranded in a tiny French town, you take the opportunity to play tourists for the day. Can the fairy tale of Vouvant work its very own magic on the two of you?
Pairing: Steve x Reader
Word Count: 4223
Warnings: A minor argument, but it's mostly carefree, fluffy fun. There are a few lines of French translated by Google Translate. If there's any mistakes in those, I take full blame because I can't remember the 5 years of French I took in high school for the life of me.
A/N: This is for the wonderfully kind @captain-kelli's Don't Call it a Comeback (Tour). It's a little bit of a comeback for me as well, since I haven't written in a hot minute. My prompt was Trouvaille, which means a lucky find in French. This also happens to be my very first Steve Rogers fic, and I'm so thrilled to finally be writing for him. I hope you all enjoy!
You were really starting to hate France.
Yeah, sure, it had the City of Lights. The romance. The cheese.
All that stuff was great, you couldn’t deny it. But, you know what else France had? Snowy, below-freezing forests that never ended. Ice-cold, hypothermic rivers to jump into. And, of course, a general foreboding sense of doom.
So, yeah, it kinda sucked.
Intellectually, you knew you couldn’t hold your one experience against the whole country. It wasn’t France’s fault that your mission had ended up here and turned south real quick. It wasn’t France’s fault that Steve had all but threw you off that cliff into the river below. And it certainly wasn’t France’s fault that he’d gotten lost in the forest hours ago, leaving you freezing, exasperated, and with no end in sight.
Even though you knew that France wasn’t the problem here, it didn’t chase the irrational thoughts away. Not when you were completely soaked to the bone and every crunch of your boots against the snow underneath felt like a stab of ice into your legs. You had to blame someone, and it was either France or Steve. Probably both.
Just to make things a little more insulting, Steve was somehow already completely dry. He’d followed you right down into that river to escape the ambush, and yet you were the soggy one while he, well, wasn’t. That darn super soldier metabolism.
“Steve, are you sure this is the right direction?” You tried to convey your annoyance in your voice, but the question came out as a weak stammer instead, with your teeth chattering away against your control. Steve clearly noticed, slowing his pace almost immediately and moving back to stand next to you. His body radiated heat, instantly lifting your temperature, and your mood, a few much needed degrees.
You let out a small, exhausted laugh. “How are you always so hot? Even after we fall into a freezing river, you’re still running like a furnace.”
“Just lucky I guess,” Steve laughed. “By the way, we didn’t fall into a river, we jumped. You knew we’d get wet.”
“Um, maybe you jumped, but you threw me into that river, hotshot. I didn’t really have a say in the whole freezing water, killing our comms, and stranding us thing.”
His eyebrows lifted, a spark of laughter filling his face. “Oh, so I guess next time I should just let us get ambushed, huh?”
“Point taken.” You started to chuckle until a sudden shiver ran its way up your spine, stealing your breath away just like that. Your steps faltered, and you stumbled slightly, but Steve’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Hey, you okay? Maybe we should stop…”
You shook your head, wiggling your toes and grimacing each time. “I appreciate it, Steve, but I think stopping in the middle of nowhere with the temperature dropping is pretty much the exact opposite of what I need. We should just keep going until we find a town where we can get warm and dry and out of these icicle shoes.”
He flashed you a small, sympathetic smile and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your elbow, up to your shoulder and back again. “Hey, how about next time we catch a mission in Vouvant, we wait until summer hits to take it, huh?”
You knew he was joking, but that didn’t stop you from nodding in agreement as your body slowly sagged against his.
Steve did most of the work while the two of you painstakingly weaved your way through the trees. Night fell, the forest gradually giving way to fields. Steve kept you close to the river, following its curve by the light of the moon until you finally came to a road sparsely dotted with a few small, stone houses. You stopped at the very first one, so bone-tired you couldn’t bring yourself to go any further.
Steve’s arm was around your waist now, holding you up against him, and he kept it there while he raised his other hand, his knuckles rapping urgently on the weathered wood of the old door. It was the middle of the night now and, for a moment, you wondered if anyone would answer. Luckily, the universe heard your plea. After just a minute, you heard soft footsteps on the other side and the door cracked open, a kind, elderly face staring back at you through the opening.
“Excusez-moi,” Steve started, smiling warmly at the woman, who was a good head shorter than both of you. “Nous avons eu un accident et nous avons besoin d'aide. S'il vous plaît.”
You were surprised he knew how to speak French, but you shouldn’t have been. He’d probably picked it up in the army all those years ago. A whole life lived before you knew him.
He’d asked her for help and she immediately complied, nodding furiously and speaking in rapid French while she ushered you both in.
The house was small and cramped, but it still felt cozy, and she guided you through it to two small stools in front of a roaring fire. It wasn’t long before there was a giant quilt around your shoulders and a hot cup of tea in your hand, warming you from the inside out.
As you stared at the fire and watched the embers crackle and jump, Steve spoke softly to the woman and her equally as tiny husband, who had joined the group not long after you’d arrived, freezing, on their doorstep. Your French was basic if anything, so you couldn’t catch much of what they were saying, but you did hear Steve chuckle about the good old days, so you knew they were bonding over something you’d never truly be able to share, no matter how close you’d gotten with Steve over the years.
Eventually, you nodded off, and when you awoke again, you weren’t by the fire any longer but lying in a soft bed, the quilt tucked all around you. Your shoes were off and the rest of your clothes had dried, leaving you nice and warm. You glanced to the side to see Steve stretched out on the floor next to you, sound asleep, with one hand on his stomach and the other extended out towards you. With a soft smile at the sight of him, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back to the pillow, drifting back into a deep sleep.
The next morning, the temperature rose, melting the snow from the ground and bringing a quiet peace to the idyllic countryside. After an invitation from your host, Mrs. Laurent, to stay as long as you both needed, you headed into town with Steve to find a phone capable of making international calls.
Down the road, you crossed a stone bridge over the river into the main section of town, which was surrounded on all sides by a light gray wall bordering the water. After passing under an archway, you emerged onto the hilly streets in the center of the town, the white, red-roofed buildings sitting peacefully under the shadow of medieval ruins in the distance.
Steve found the post office to call for a ride, while you stayed outside browsing through the kiosks of tourist brochures. It was the usual touristy stuff in Vouvant and the surrounding towns- a cathedral, some quaint gardens, a few meandering walks through local lakes, marshes, and, as you’d already discovered, a deep forest, one that you’d already had more than enough of for a lifetime.
You grabbed a small brochure on the town’s history and you’d just finished giving it a quick once over when Steve emerged through the post office entrance, frowning and shaking his head.
“Bad news?” you asked, flashing him a smile that you knew would chase his frown away. It worked, and he returned your smile with a shrug.
“We’re going to be stuck here a little longer than we thought. FRIDAY patched me through to Sam, who’s apparently still in Paris. The jet suffered some damage in the attack, and they had to make an emergency landing. He said they could send someone to get us but not until the morning. We’ll be here another night.”
You bit your lip, thinking for a second. “Well, that’s not so bad.” Holding up the brochure in your hand, you flashed him a conspiratorial grin. “After all, we are in a town straight out of a ‘real-life fairytale’.”
He laughed, taking the colorful piece of paper out of your hand. “You read that in this?”
“Mhmm.” While he scanned the cover, you gleefully provided a brief rundown. “Did you know the town only has a few snow days a year? Lucky us to have gotten stranded on one of the below freezing days, huh?” He smirked as you continued. “Apparently, the forest surrounds a circular fortress, the remains of a 13th century castle. They say visiting it is like stepping back through time, with much of the essence of the history having been preserved. There’s even a tower, La Tour Mélusine, with 360 views of the entire countryside. Other than the outside wall, it’s all that’s left of the keep of the old castle.”
You dropped your voice and leaned in closer, whispering playfully. “Legend says the castle was built by a fairy named Mélusine in just one night and it may still hold some of her magic.”
He handed you back the brochure, raising his eyebrows with amusement. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No, but in a town of little more than 800, how else are you going to sell yourself to the tourists? Besides, it’s fun. Whimsical. What’s wrong with a little magic every once in a while?”
He titled his head, giving your point its credit. “The legend probably is a big tourist draw, but not right now, at least. The postal worker said tourism is low in the winter season, so the town is practically deserted. We pretty much have the place to ourselves.”
“Well…” you started, glancing around the empty town square, “if we aren’t getting picked up until tomorrow, we may as well enjoy it while we can. What do you say? Want to explore a fairy tale for the day?”
He laughed, the sound echoing through the street. “You know I’m always up for a little stroll through time.” He extended his hand to you in invitation. “Let’s go take a tour through the 13th century.”
Your expedition took you all through the narrow streets of town and along the wall enclosing it. You ate, drank, and chatted your way amongst the locals, learning not only the history but about the character and people who made Vouvant what it was today. Steve turned out to be quite the history buff, relishing in the stories and sights even more than you. As the late afternoon rays of sun streaked across the sky, the two of you finally reached the tour’s pièce de résistance, ascending the steps of the mystical La Tour Mélusine and reaching the tower’s summit just before sunset.
“Wow,” you breathed, walking forward and placing your hands on the railing. “It really is beautiful.”
When they said 360 views, they were underselling it. It was gorgeous, the whole vista stretched out in front of you, rolling fields of yellow and orange complemented by the deep greens of the trees. The whole scene had a soft pink glow from the setting sun, making it seem nearly ethereal. And oh so very peaceful.
“Isn’t it amazing, Steve?” Your voice was barely a whisper, filled with awe, and you heard Steve exhale behind you. His breath was right against your neck, sending a tingle down your spine.
“Yeah.” His voice was gruff, deeper than you’d ever heard before, and it made your stomach flip. “It’s something all right.”
Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just the way you wanted to hear it, but either way, it was magic. Just like that, your world shifted. Time seemed to slow down. Seconds became fractions as you turned towards him, your stomach, your side and, finally, your back brushing against the cold steel of the railing until you were face to face. He was close to you, so close your chest nearly bumped into his when you ultimately reached him, meeting his stare.
The look you saw there easily made another involuntary shiver fly down your body.
“You cold?” Steve asked, bringing his hand up to touch your elbow, gently, hesitantly, as if you hadn’t known him for years, hadn’t been much closer than this. Not that that made your heartbeat slow down in any way, shape, or form.
Cold? How could you be cold when he was looking at you like that? You felt like you were on fire, and you couldn’t fathom how he wasn’t seeing that written all over your face. One look from Steve and the coldest winter day turned into a scorching summer breeze.
You tried to shake your head, but you found yourself somehow nodding instead. A smile flashed across Steve’s face, and he shrugged out of his jacket, reaching around you to drape it over your shoulders. He grabbed the lapels to tighten it around you, inadvertently pulling you even closer to him as a result. “There,” he muttered, not taking his hands off his jacket. Or away from you. “That better?”
“Yeah…” You wanted to say something, anything, but your brain emptied, your voice disappearing along with it. Steve kept his gaze locked on you, and you most definitely couldn’t stop staring at him. The way the fading sun was shining on his face, his smile radiating through his eyes. You wondered if he could read your thoughts, see how your body was reacting to him. A part of you hoped that he couldn’t. An even bigger part of you prayed that he could.
Steve swallowed slowly, licking his lips. “Um, maybe we should, uh start heading back. You know, before you get too cold.”
Heading back. Such simple words, but they made your expectations plummet, your heart dropping along with them. “Oh, yeah, right. We have a big day tomorrow.” You paused, your eyes falling to the floor. “I guess the fairy tale’s over, right?”
Steve’s own eyes clouded and he stepped back, releasing his hold on you. “Yeah,” he mumbled softly. “Fairy tale over.”
He turned and started down the stairs, leaving you to follow. But, you hesitated. All the memories from the day flashed through your mind and only one thought stayed behind: how you wished it never had to end.
By the time you’d made it back to the Laurents, it felt like all the energy had just drained out of your body. You knew a part of it was all the exploring you’d done today and the lack of rest you’d gotten the night before, but that wasn’t what was really pulling you down. Steve was.
The moment on the tower had meant something to you. Just like every moment the two of you ever shared, every look that passed between you, every smile he threw your way. They all struck like lightning, every single time. You’d accepted that long ago. It was deeper than just a physical crush with him. No man could hold a candle to Steve, to his heart, his compassion, the way he made you feel. Safe. Respected. Valued.
You’d never told him, because you knew he didn’t feel the same way. The moment on the tower roof had proved that. He’d pulled back, just like he always did. He’d kept his distance, just like he always did. And it had nearly killed you. Just like it always did.
Dinner was eaten mostly in silence. From your end at least. Steve chatted politely with Mr. and Mrs. Laurent, and he even tried including you in the conversation, but your mood led to one word responses, with a plastered-on smile and the excuse of the language barrier to explain away your lack of participation.
After dinner, you tried to make a hasty exit, but Mrs. Laurent pulled you into the living room, cheerfully showing you pictures of her children and grandchildren. Steve was on the other side of the room, his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest.
His eyes never left you.
You tried not to look at him, attempting to keep your focus on the kind woman in front of you, but he was like a magnet, pulling you towards him. Somehow, you found yourself right by his side while Mrs. Laurent continued to flit around the room from picture to picture, speaking in rapid, excited French. His arm brushed against yours and he bumped it slightly, raising his eyebrows and chuckling under his breath at the frenzy unfolding in front of you. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back, your melancholy quickly lifting, in spite of yourself.
He never failed to draw you out of yourself and right back into him.
A crash broke you out of your inner reflection, and you looked across the room to find glass all over the floor in front of Mrs. Laurent. Steve reacted instantly, bounding over to her without a moment’s hesitation and guiding her safely around the shards of glass to the nearby sofa. You moved to sit with her while he went to the kitchen to grab a broom to clean up the glass.
“Are you okay?” you asked her, hesitating slightly while you tried to remember the phrase in French. But, she seemed to understand well enough, nodding quickly.
“Oui, oui,” she rushed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Je suis d’accord.”
Before you could say anything comforting, Steve appeared, kneeling in front of her with a reassuring smile. He held out a picture of what appeared to be her husband and children on a trip to the beach. It was frayed at the edges from where it had been in the frame but otherwise unharmed.
Her whole face brightened when she saw the picture in one piece. “Oh merci. Merci.”
Steve smiled, saying it wasn’t a problem, and crossed to the other side of the room to finish cleaning up what remained of the frame. The second he left, Mrs. Laurent turned to you, gripping both of her hands in yours and pulling you close.
When she spoke, it was quiet, purposely so, designed for only the two of you to hear. “Ce Steve, il est spécial. C'est une trouvaille.”
Steve and special, those words you knew, but trouvaille was something you’d never heard before. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Trouvaille?”
She smiled with understanding, her French changing to tentative English, slow but clear. “You...are...lucky. Steve, he is...good man. Do not let good man go.”
Her words hit straight to your heart, and you felt tears gather in your own eyes. Maybe it was the motherly way she gave the advice or each of the small moments that had left you vulnerable, but all of your feelings came bubbling straight to the surface and years of repressed truths began demanding to be realized.
You were in love with Steve Rogers.
You didn’t know why it took so long for you to realize it, but once it was there, right in front of you, it was as clear as day. Of course you were in love with him. How could you not have been? He was everything to you, your best friend, your closest confidante. And Mrs. Laurent was right. You were lucky to have found him.
“Thank you, Mrs. Laurent. Merci.”
She nodded and squeezed your hands, smiling fondly before she took her leave, retiring upstairs to join her husband. You stared into the blazing fire, considering her words and all of their ramifications until Steve joined you, sitting on the couch next to you with a drawn out sigh.
“I’m glad her picture wasn’t damaged when the frame broke,” he said. “A sweet woman like that doesn’t deserve to lose her memories. None of us do.”
Now you knew he was talking from personal experience, and you remembered the conversation he’d shared with the Laurents last night, how much more they had in common then most people would think.
“Memories are more than just a picture, Steve. Just like people you love, they never truly leave you.”
Your tone was more somber than you intended, and Steve took notice, turning to you with concern. “Hey, you okay? You’ve seemed off tonight. I know you’re probably tired from yesterday…”
“It’s not that,” you said hastily, your lips moving before your mind could even catch up. “It’s you, Steve. I mean...it’s us.” You paused to take a breath, the instant stretching out into an eon. “You know what, it’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”
You stood to move away, but Steve grabbed your hand, gently pulling you back. “Wait a second, hold on, what are you talking about?”
A quiet panic filled his eyes, and you instantly felt guilt swell up inside you. You hadn’t meant to catch him off guard. Sitting back down, your knees faced his, his hand still gripping yours. “It’s nothing, Steve, really. Just please forget I said anything, okay? You’re right, I’m probably just tired. It’s been a long couple of days and I’m overthinking things.”
His eyes softened, the panic turning into a familiar compassion that, in this very moment, drove you absolutely insane. “Talk to me. You said I upset you. Tell me why and I can fix it.”
“You didn’t upset me.” You sighed, jumping up to put some distance between you. Taking a breath, you folded your arms across your body to hold yourself in. “Besides, this isn’t something you can fix, Steve. Not this time, okay?”
He stood up, meeting you where you were. His eyes were firm, determined. “I can try.”
You scoffed in return. “Okay, Mr. Captain America.”
“That’s not fair,” he shot back, his voice hardening defensively in the face of your sarcasm. “You know I don’t mean it like that. It’s not about my job, Y/N. You’re my friend.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem!”
A deep silence fell at that admission, a chasm that seemed nearly unnavigable, full of weight and change.
But Steve was determined to cross it. His tone softened and he stepped closer. “The problem is that I’m your friend? Y/N, what the hell are you talking about? You aren’t making any sense.”
“I know I’m not,” you whispered. Because you’d made a mess of everything. And now you’d backed yourself into a corner. You had to tell him the truth. “Steve, on the tower today, when you gave me your jacket, it...it felt different.”
He shook his head, not understanding what you were saying. “Different how?”
So much for being subtle. “I don’t want to be just your friend, you idiot. I want to be more than that. I always have. And some days it’s just hard to be around you and not go crazy all the time thinking about how badly I want to kiss you, okay?” Good lord, what were you even saying? “You know what, can we just pretend this whole conversation never happened, because I really can’t handle the rejection and pity from my best friend right now. Let’s just go to bed and…”
Warmth. That’s the first thing that your brain registered when his lips landed on yours. The next thought followed quickly behind it though. Steve was actually kissing you. And you sure as hell weren’t going to let this opportunity fall away.
Opening your mouth, you let out a little sigh and sunk right into him. He groaned, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, his lips pulling urgently at yours, savoring and exploring, years of pent up emotions spilling out from both of you and meeting in the middle, igniting and cascading in a rhythm all their own.
When he finally pulled away, you smiled against his lips, not wanting to risk opening your eyes and finding out that it had all been just a dream. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You weren’t expecting me to jump at the chance to kiss the girl I’ve been in love with for years when she tells me she wants me?”
Your eyes flew open, but Steve just nodded, his grin confirming what he said was the truth. “You love me?”
He placed the back of his knuckles on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn’t even know you’d shed. “How could I not? You’re my best friend, the most courageous, giving, brilliant woman I’ve ever met. You’re my trouvaille.”
A laugh, astonished and unexpected, bubbled its way out of you. “Wait a second, Mrs. Laurent pulled that line on you too? That little matchmaker!”
He grinned, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pausing first to place a soft kiss against your neck along the way. “She saw right through us. I for one think we should take her advice. Now that I’ve kissed you once, I’m planning on doing it again.”
Biting your bottom lip, you reached up to pull him down. “Oh you better.”
I disappeared for awhile, but I’m back! I’ve missed the community here, so I could think of no better way to jump back in than a little writing challenge. (That and Whitney is a terrible influence on my life.)
The details:
Theme: The three big things that get my creativity flowing - sassy dialogue ideas, unusual words and their meanings, and storytelling songs.
Due date: August 31, 2021
The tag: #ckcomebacktour
The rules:
You don’t have to be following me, but I’d love to have ya.
Send me an ask with the prompt and character. Only two entries per prompt, first come first served. Please don’t respond to this post for a prompt.
Pick any MCU character and feel free to pair them up with a reader, OC or just canon characters.
If you want to write for a specific reader (Black!Reader, Asian!Reader, Latinx!Reader, etc.) - please do!
It can be a one-shot or a series, but it has to be the first chapter in the series.
Minimum of 500 words. Maximum of 5,000.
For the love of all that is holy, use the “Keep Reading” feature.
Tag me when you’re done and use the challenge tag.
Please use warnings as they apply. If there are any triggers that are not in the warnings, I will not reblog, or include in the master list.
No underage/dub-con/non-con/dark-fic. Everything else is fine.
Strikeout means it’s no longer available.
Have fun! Share each other’s work! Be good to one another!!
The master list for these stories can be found here.
Prompts below the cut!
Dialogue Prompts:
“I don’t have an attitude, thank you. I have standards.” // @moonstruckbucky + @ocean-bucky
“If you feel intimidated, that’s your problem, not mine.” // @crispychrissy (Bucky Barnes) + @phant0m-queen (Bucky Barnes)
“Everyone acts like women are so fragile, but it’s nothing in comparison to your ego.” // @samwilsons-pillowpecs (Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson) + @full-lunar-chaos (Bucky Barnes x Peggy Carter)
“All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.” // @authoressskr
“I’ll see you in the next life.” // @allaboardthereadingrailroad
Word Prompts:
Morii: the desire to capture a fleeting moment // @tinymalscoffee (Sam Wilson) + @baroquebucky (Bucky Barnes)
Absquatulate: to flee or leave abruptly without saying goodbye // @arawynn (Bucky Barnes) + @blackberrybucky (Bucky Barnes)
Flâneur: a person of leisure who strolls aimlessly, observing life and society // @specialk-18 (Bucky Barnes) + @barnesandco (Bucky Barnes x Muslim!Reader)
Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs
Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta :: Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!! :: Word Count: 10,414
Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader
Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.
Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”
[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]
-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-
Part One
You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.
The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.
The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.
The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.
The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.
But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…
When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.
A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??
The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.
Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.
Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.
It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.
The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.
So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.
The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.
The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.
You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.
“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.
“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.
“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.
“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”
“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”
“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.
“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”
“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.
“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.
“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”
“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.
“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”
“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”
“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”
“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”
“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.
“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”
“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.
“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.
“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.
“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.
That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.
“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.
“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.
“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”
“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.
“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.
“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.
But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.
“Phil! It’s for my father!”
“You sure?”
“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”
“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”
You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”
“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.
“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”
“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.
“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.
“Yes and no.”
“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.
“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”
“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.
“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.
“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”
“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.
“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”
“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.
How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.
And you both know it’s from you.
-----*****-----*****-----
Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”
“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.
“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.
“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.
“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”
“Horny?”
“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.
“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.
“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”
“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.
“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”
“Don’t.”
“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.
“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.
“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”
“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.
“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.
-----*****-----*****-----
The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.
Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.
Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.
Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.
Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.
Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.
You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.
“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.
Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.
Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.
From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”
“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”
“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”
“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.
“I was damned from the get go, princess.”
“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.
“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.
You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.
“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.
“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.
“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.
“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.
“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”
“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal.
Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.
The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.
Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.
“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.
Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.
“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”
“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.
“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.
“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.
The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.
He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.
“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”
His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.
“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”
“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.
“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.
“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.
“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.
“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.
“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.
“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.
“But you found me, handsome.”
Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.
“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes.
“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.
“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.
“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.
“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”
Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”
“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.
“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.
“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.
He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.
“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,”
“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.
“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.
And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.
“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.
The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.
“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.
“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.
“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”
“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.
“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.
It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.
“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.
“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”
Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.
“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”
Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.
A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.
The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.
Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.
Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.
“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”
Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.
“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.
“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.
Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.
“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”
“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.
“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.
“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”
“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.
“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”
“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.
“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.
Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.
“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”
“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”
“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.
“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”
“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”
“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”
“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.
“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.
“I can’t wait.”
“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.
“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”
“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.
“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.
“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.
“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”
“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.
“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.
“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.
“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”
“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.
“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.
“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street.
“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.
“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”
“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”
“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”
“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.
“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.
“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”
“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”
“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.
“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.
“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”
Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3
Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange
Warnings: Language, mentions of Death, and no Beta :) :: Notes: for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour -- WELCOME BACK!! :: Word Count: 9687
Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader
Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared...scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.
Prompt: “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”
[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post, translate or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]
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It was cooler that evening than the night before, clouds hovering overhead with streaks of nearly black sky showing though in small patches. It had rained sometime before he got done with work, the damp spots on the sidewalk not drying in the cool night air. The news had warned those with Fae ancestry not to be out late at night or early in the mornings due to elevated risks. From whom, they still didn’t know...but it was enough to keep him more on alert than usual as he walked home from work. He was lucky not to live too far from work, moseying a little quicker than normal just because of his great-grandfather’s pixie blood and this stupid Fae boogieman who had them all on edge.
He only looked down for a handful of seconds to see the text from his boyfriend.
He was dead just after he unlocked his phone.
-----*****-----*****-----
Fury looks down at the young man, setting his mouth in a fine line.
This is the second murder since they’d been given jurisdiction and control over the Fae killings and kidnaps...in addition to the unsolved five murders before that they’d inherited and the three kidnappings as well.
And the only tie was to the fair folk.
So he’d instructed his team to put out feelers for any reputable and powerful magic wielders to help them track down this murderous bastard. So far they’d come up with the Sorcerer Supreme, Dr. Strange, whom they’d already been in contact with when the New York police had first come calling. But Strange had “more pressing issues around the globe” to deal with, so he’d just said it looked like a magic infused weapon was used and it was someone who didn’t - or couldn’t - live in the city. What no one really wanted to hear; A possible member of the fair folk hunting down those with any sort of Fae blood.
Steve Rogers, his best friend and blood brother Bucky Barnes, and Fury’s right hand man, Phil Coulson come walking briskly up the blocked off sidewalk, already frowning at the crumpled body against the still wet pavement. Bucky squats down, leaning forward a bit and sniffing the air around the body.
“There was poison on the blade this time. Still smells that singed way the others did, but with a sickly sweet overtone.”
“You sure, Buck?” He stands up, wrinkling up his nose before frowning at Steve.
“Have a sniff yourself. Something tainted that blood and tissue. I’m surprised someone didn’t report it earlier with that smell.” Coulson stands on Fury’s left, looking down at the body with pity.
“Sir,” He cautiously scans around briefly before continuing, “I need Romanov, Wanda and one of these two to go and speak to my tracker.”
“Tracker?” Bucky and Steve question simultaneously.
“Magic wielders can have very specific talents, so I had Phil and Maria branch out,” Fury affirms, waving one of the officers closer. “Send me all the scene pictures and the video footage, as well as copies to Stark.” Once the officer leaves, Fury turns back to Phil, Steve and Bucky. “Take Banner instead of Romanov, Coulson.”
“Just because Natasha is human doesn’t mean…” Steve begins before Fury shoots him a look.
“I don’t ever underestimate Romanov. But Banner’s other half, is more placating to those with fae blood or very strong magic wielders. Any human, especially a former assassin, can be off-putting for the initial meeting. Especially if Barnes goes with you...two former Russian assassins might seem -”
“Like a threat. Understood, sir. Banner, Wanda, Barnes and Rogers then?”
“We are literally right here,” Bucky gestures at the space between himself and Steve.
“Let’s hope your pick is more viable than Maria’s.”
“What happened to Maria’s?” Steve queries, then Fury gestures to the body with a sigh.
“Potion and small artifact maker, Cyrus Lowstien.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, the smell of the poisoned coagulated blood now stuffing up his nose, as he worries over the fate of Phil’s prospect.
“So I suppose the sooner, the better?” Bucky asks Phil, who just nods, the scent of rain and wet pavement long diminished from this bloody crime scene.
-----*****-----*****-----
“This is the place?” Bruce asks, stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of a bar and dance club, hot pink neon sign of a scantily clad woman in a chair like Flashdance, now dark due to it being 11am.
“I like them already if they frequent this place. Natasha brought me here two years ago for my birthday,” Wanda winks at Bruce before leading the men towards the entrance.
Phil nods to Steve and Bucky before taking the lead.
A man behind the bar moves quickly to block Phil and the rest from moving forward past the door entryway.
“Whoa! You can’t just come in here! We’re closed,” His blonde curls bob as he gestures to the empty room.
“I’m here to see Duchess.” Phil states with a small smile, blue eyes staring at the man with the knowledge he’ll get what he wants. The man sighs heavily, a breath featuring an expletive is next before he points to the bar.
“You stay at the bar while I go get her,” He orders while eyeing Steve and Bucky uneasily, turning his back only after Phil nods and heading along the west side of the building wall to a small staircase.
“You smell anything odd?” Bucky asks Steve quietly, quickly scanning all the areas of potential entry/exit.
“No. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Steve begins, leaning against the bar as Wanda hops up on a stool beside him. “Booze. Cleaners. Smells kind of faintly like coconut too, but that may be that guys shampoo or tanning lotion or something. Why?”
“Something smells good.” Bucky answers with a slight growl, taking a deeper breath.
“Smells good to which side?” Bruce asks absentmindedly, looking at all the shelves and rows of alcohol.
“Both,” Bucky answers, walking slowly down the length of the bar while trying to pinpoint the amazing smell.
“What’s it smell like?” Steve’s voice comes from directly behind him.
“You know that Italian deli that made all their bread in house?”
“Yeah, about eight blocks from the dance hall.”
“It smells like that when they’d be baking at 5am.” Bucky tips his face up a little, the scent a little stronger now. “And your Ma’s lemon squares. Got a hint of something spicy too...like cayenne pepper? And some caramel coffee too? But that’s…”
Bucky feels like someone just gut punches all the air out of him at once, seeing the woman who comes down the stairs in the northwest corner. She’s the source of the delicious smell. With a paper coffee cup in her hand, eyes focused directly on Phil. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! His entire body is now a livewire, his wolf acutely aware that this woman was his mate. Mate. Jesus Christ.
Steve’s hand lands heavy on Bucky’s shoulder sensing the shift, squeezing just this side of pain as Coulson steps forward, willing his best friend to remain calm as he smells the euphoria and anxiety now rolling off him.
“Long time no see, Duchess,” Phil says cheerfully, holding his hand out. The woman pushes his hand away and hugs Phil briefly, but hard. When she steps away, she keeps only looking at Coulson, but takes a sip of her coffee and sighs loudly.
“Bo, please go get the other deliveries from the back. I got the call right before they stepped out of their suv.” The man’s wiry frame tenses just so, but he doesn’t argue. She waits until he leaves the area before raising her empty hand and making a slight back and forth motion, looking expectantly at Phil. “It has been a long time, Phil. Others may say too short a time if they knew our past.” Phil reaches into his inner suit jacket pocket, withdrawing his cell phone.
“I know I shouldn’t be here - asking for another favor -”
“Yet here we are,” There is a small smile now, a sad smile Bucky felt.
Phil hands her his phone, mouth set in a thin line. “Here we are.” Her brows furrow as she stares intently before swiping to the next photo, Bucky and Steve’s ears picking up the increasing heartbeat. “The last one is from today. Coroner said just after 2am, no later than 3am.” Her eyes tear up, a little gasp at the last picture.
“Oh...Cyrus,” She hands the phone back, looking away from Phil, her eyes landing on Bucky. As she tilts her head just a tad to the right as their eyes meet, his pulse quickens and mouth suddenly turns dry. The same word echoes in his mind over and over again, watching her raise the cup to her mouth and drain the last bit of it. “How rude of me,” She says as she sets the empty cup on one of the small tables scattered around the room. “They call me Duchess. And you are: Dr. Bruce Banner,” dark blue painted fingernails reach out as Bruce steps forward to shake it. “Wanda…?”
“Maximoff,” She supplies, moving forward just like Bruce.
“Miss Maximoff, of course.” She moves a little farther down the bar, holding her hand out towards Steve. “Captain Rogers.”
“Ma’am,” He nods as he gives a short and firm shake.
“And the good Sergeant Barnes.” Once his hand is clasping her’s, he’s fighting against a dozen urges, suppressing several as he turns and lifts her hand to his lips after shaking it - never breaking eye contact.
“Please doll, call me Bucky,” It’s half purred and half growled, his eye color shifting in the lights as she licks her lips nervously. Bucky can’t tell if it’s his heart beating loudly, her’s, or a mix that’s thumping loudly in his ears. But it’s not helping against the other urges, his canines elonging at the brief taste of her skin. She patiently waits for him to drop her hand before she steps onto the silver foot rail and hefts herself onto the wooden and worn bartop between himself and Steve.
“Well, Bucky, want to tell me why your elite little team needs me?”
“Well, based on what you’ve helped me with before -”
“No, not you Phil. Bucky.” Bucky suppresses a shiver at her tone. He likes it. She knows she has the upper hand - and that’s sexy as hell. “Now,” She turns herself a little more facing him, tilting her head just so again, eyes sparkling. “Bucky, please tell me how a born witch, her speedster twin, two human former assassins and spies, a half giant, an old-world god, a billionaire in a metal suit, his young spider bitten apprentice, a synthezoid, and two alpha werewolves who survived not only being bitten by a master vampire but also World War II - and all the shit afterwards,” An added knowing glance is sent to him and then tossed over her shoulder at Steve. “How is it that you all can’t handle this one being?”
Bucky couldn’t look away if he tried. “How are you so sure it’s just one being?” She offers a bright smile at his retort.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“I would assume so, judging by past expertise.”
“So can I,” She whispers loudly in reply before she turns to look at the doors they’d walked through, her expression changing immediately. The look puts them all on edge, all of them turning towards the door as well. “Phil, did you bring anyone else with you?”
“No.” Bucky extends a hand, her’s slipping in so easily it’s a little jarring, their eyes briefly meeting as she hops down. Phil has his hand on his gun, but Duchess just shakes her head.
Steve has taken point, Bucky at the rear while Duchess sits at the table with her empty coffee cup, chin on her fist.
“Are you expect-” Bruce begins, a soft ‘wow’ coming out as there is now a bound young man at the table opposite her.
“I was just doing as told, Mr. Coulson and Mr. Rogers!” The voice comes out in a loud squeak as laughter bubbles out of Duchess.
“I was just talking about you! Spider-man!” His eyes widen comically as he shakes his shaggy brown head at her words.
“No, ma’am, really! I’ve never even met -”
“Kid, I bought you a churro when I got lost a year or so ago. I can tell it’s the same aura and come on, same voice too.”
“Oh.” He looks so disappointed before perking up. “Your hair was shorter and bright pink then!” She nods enthusiastically as the magical binding around Peter just fade away. “That was so cool! Did you see Wanda?! I was outside then I was in here! I’m glad Mr. Stark sent me to see our new recruit!”
“If they’d just sent you and Phil, I probably would have said yes a little less begrudgingly. You’re adorable!” Peter flushes pink at her words, ducking his head.
“I’ll make the arrangements then,” Phil says, withdrawing his cell again.
“Oh please,” She waves as she gives him a pointed, knowing look. “As if you didn’t before you came here.” Phil just smiles, a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes as he lifts the phone to his ear and walks toward the staircase she descended from.
“That’s so great!” Peter says happily, looking at the four Avengers brightly.
“So this was all just...a show? An interview? Preamble?” Bruce says, moving closer to Duchess at the table. She raises an eyebrow at him, before sighing softly, a smile always on her face.
“Women are fickle like that. Especially those with the upper hand.”
“Almost like the fair folk, one might say,” Bruce answers back with a knowing smile of his own.
“They always assume they have the upper hand. It’s usually their downfall. And hopefully will be this one as well,” The empty cup disappears as Phil comes back, Duchess tossing a smile over her shoulder at him. “All arranged?”
“Yes. I’ll leave Peter and Barnes here with you until after the bar closes, then you’ll be brought to Stark Tower for safety. Tomorrow morning you can start going to the sites of the crimes and see if you get anything.”
“Wait…” She stands abruptly, forehead furrowed slightly. “Why do I need babysitters?”
“Guards,” Phil stresses as he heads for the door. She appears suddenly before him, glaring.
“I can take care of myself.”
His blue eyes soften a little even as he straightens his spine a little more. “Cyrus thought so too.”
“Phil.” It’s a growl. An honest to the moon growl. And Bucky likes it. “I am not some low blood fae who makes trinkets and small blessings. I am goddess made.” Her face becomes calmer and more stern. “Do not make me regret this deal, Coulson.”
“The deal has been struck. And yes, you trusted me with conditions, but this is non-negotiable. To keep you safe and as a viable an asset as we can, you will have an Avenger with you at all times.” Duchess huffs out a ‘Fine’ as she looks away from Phil. “Besides,” He begins as she returns her gaze to him. “Barnes seems to like you, so he’ll be the go to.”
“Great,” She snaps, Bucky, Wanda and Steve all raising an eyebrow at her tone. Phil just smiles brightly at her.
“I’ll see you later then, Duchess.”
“Playing with fire, Phil,” To which he just jerks his head to Bruce and the rest, not saying anything in reply before slipping quietly out the front door.
“I’m sorry you’re upset. But it is best to be careful, Miss Duchess.” Peter says softly, big brown eyes blinking softly at her in earnest.
Her jewel-colored eyes are covered as her eyelids flutter closed, a deep inhale and exhale before she tips her head to the ceiling and opens her eyes, letting her head fall forward and piercing Bucky with a softer look.
“I apologize for my tone regarding you, Bucky.” She gifts Peter a small smile. “And of course you as well, Peter.”
“It’s okay!” Peter confirms happily as Bo makes his return with a clipboard.
“Bucky and Peter will be staying with us this evening. Anything they ask for is on the house. Please let the staff know when they come in. I’ll call Elle and let her know as well.”
“Of course,” He nods his acquiescence but his gaze is uneasy on the pair of them.
“They’ll be upstairs with me in the office until I do the mail run and shit.”
“I’ll finish here and then head home til tonight, if that’s alright.” She nods as he hands her the clipboard, intensely scanning the sheets.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Tell Carly hi from me.”
“Will do, boss.”
Duchess heads for the staircase, Bucky falling in step just a few steps behind her before whistling for Peter to follow, watching as his ears turn pink as he scurries to catch up to their brisk pace, Duchess already halfway up the staircase.
She opens the door and then down a short hallway she holds another door open.
“Peter, if you could wait for a minute right here. I want to talk to Bucky in my office for a few minutes.” Of course he perkily agrees, and Bucky steeles himself for whatever she has to say. His wolf is nervous with her tone earlier and thus he’s a little wary with this discussion.
Her office is done in a light gray, with a big ebony wood desk set slightly more to the right and a few dark purple velvet chairs set before it and a dark gray velvet loveseat against the far left wall with two identical ebony bookcases on either side - filled with books, nicknacks, greeting cards and pictures scattered artfully amongst their shelves.
“Would you like to take a seat?” She asks, gesturing to the purple chair closest to where she is leaning against her desk. Her leaning against that desk is alluring and distracting, the blood thrumming loudly in his ears again. He just shakes his head at her, watching her take another deep breath before biting her bottom lip. “So, I smelled you when you walked into the bar.”
His breath catches in his throat at her admission. “As did I,” Bucky clenches his jaw before continuing. “Mate.”
There. It’s out in the open now. The title he’d been dying to say since he laid eyes on her.
Her face flits through a myriad of emotions, her eyes brightening when he calls her by her title before she looks down to his gloved left hand, eyes now so downtrodden.
“Bucky...I am so happy to have found you. My kind...um, they don’t often find their mates. It’s become sort of like a fairy tale to us.” Tears well up in her eyes. “But I’m also so incredibly, terribly sorry.”
“Sorry,” Bucky repeats almost on autopilot, frowning as his wolf begins exhibiting nervous energy.
“I can’t be your mate.” His wolf howls loud in his head, aching from the inside out as she pops onto her feet and moves forward, her hands gripping onto his hands to ground him. “This isn’t a rejection, Bucky.” She whispers, and Bucky clings to her torso, not even remembering falling to his knees. Her fingers weave through his hair, gently scraping his scalp with each pass. The howling dies abruptly as she soothes the wound she’s created. “Sorry, I should be better at wording things by now,” Her voice has a hint of self depreciation, bending slightly to kiss the top of his head as he rubs his face just under her breasts, inhaling as much of her scent as possible. “Bucky.” His name is said so fucking soft, he couldn’t have denied her call if he tried. She was his siren. His light. His life now. “Gods, you’re beautiful Bucky.” He can hear her swallow hard as his gaze holds hers. “What I meant is that I can’t physically bond with you like a mate would…” The tears are shining now, ready to fall with her next words. They might as well be knives to his chest. “I’m supposed to die before I turn 32. And I turn 32 in October, Bucky.” Duchess sniffles as she uses her free hand to wipe away the tears. “I can’t harm my mate by doing that. I can’t take you down with me.” She folds down into him, her face now buried in his dark blue henley as her hands fist in the material, his arms now encircling her safely against himself. He can hear another muffled apology as he noses along her hairline.
“I’ll protect and keep you safe,” Bucky’s deep voice half soothes as he presses a couple errant kisses to her hairline as well.
“Not even you can protect me from the Fates, handsome,” She clarifies with a loud sniffle, pulling away slightly to look up at him. Even so sad and heartbroken, Bucky thinks she’s gorgeous.
“There’s a first time for everything,” He says resolutely. And he means it to his core. Bucky hasn’t lived this fucking long to lose his other half so soon after finding her. He’ll fight tooth, nail, and fang for her.
The look in her eyes as she watches the emotions ripple through his sapphire orbs is amazement.
“Gods, you truly mean that, don’t you?” Her voice comes out so soft and breathy, like she cannot fathom his devotion...but she would. His flesh hand comes up to softly cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing softly just under her cheekbone.
“I would burn this world down for you, mate.”
Her eyes cloud with unshed tears as she nods minutely. “I’d give you a kingdom and I’ll never let you fall. You are mine, mate.”
“And you are mine,” Bucky finishes, the words singing through his whole body.
He had laid his claim and she had accepted, laying her own - consequences be damned.
And maybe they themselves were.
-----*****-----*****-----
Bucky stays close to her all through the evening, but he’s thinking about what she had told him.
How she had been essentially cursed by the Fates when she was just six years old. She said she saw who and what they were and so they had spoken as one, signing her death warrant in front of her uncle. He’d also found out that her uncle and two aunts had spent the last twenty five years trying to come up with some way to circumvent it. The first couple of plans that relied solely on magic had failed.
Bucky knew Steve would have his back regardless. Steve knew the neverending ache of losing his chosen mate and would do anything to help spare Bucky of that fate. But, Jesus, finding out how to beat the Fates was a hell of an order for anyone.
The car Tony had sent rode down nearly empty streets towards the Tower as they all sat in silence, Peter typing enthusiastically on his phone as he bit back a yawn.
“Stop the car,” Duchess orders, a barely perceptible glow to her eyes. It slows immediately, which was apparently not quick enough for his mate, who flung the door open. At least she waited until it was nearly completely stopped to try to step out. Bucky shoved her back, exiting first after shooting her a little glare.
“What is it?” Peter whispers from over her right shoulder.
“I smell blood and fae…” She takes a little walk, her hand on Bucky’s back to lead him in front of her in the direction she wants, then tugs at his henley to stop right before an alleyway.
“I don’t sense anything…” Peter says gently, Bucky about to nod in agreement before a deep, scratchy male voice comes from the blackness at the very back of the alleyway.
“Tidings to you, highness,” The voice hisses, moving forward to reveal a cloaked figure with twin swords gleaming in the low light.
“Tidings, murderer and kidnapper,” Duchess acknowledges the being with a sneer.
“Still such a mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?” A smile plays on her lips now, the light dancing brighter behind her eyes.
“Where are the kidnapped fair folk, betrayer?”
“Betrayer?” It gives a loud, humorless laugh at her words. “From some little death warranted bitch...truly rich, highness.” The figure sighs like it’s bored, looking from Bucky to Peter. “With interlopers at your side. Disgusting.” He moves forward so fast that even Bucky’s quick reflexes seem all too human.
But the ringing of steel meeting sounds to his left, Duchess pushing the cloaked figure back down the alley with her own thin sword.
“I order you to tell me where the kidnapped folk are!” She shouts as one of the figure’s swords swipe close to her neck, setting Bucky on edge as he sees everything a few seconds behind them actually happening.
“Your orders mean nothing here, princess.” The man hisses maliciously, swinging one blade lower, aiming for her right thigh, which she blocks and pushes back against effortlessly.
The ground shakes beneath them, throwing the hooded figure slightly off kilter before a string of fae curses slip past his lips.
“Now they do, asshat,” She snarles back at him. “Now I order you to tell me where the kidnapped folk are!” He jumps towards her, making her act defensively as he rushes towards Peter, blades at the ready.
Peter can sense the attack due to his spidey sense, but the figure moves just a tad quicker than even Spiderman, so he’s trying to move to minimize damage, with Bucky yanking him towards himself hard when he sees movement out of his peripheral. Her sword is slashing at the man’s side, knocking him more towards the alley’s brick wall and away from Peter.
And the man uses this to his advantage and flicks one of his blades backward before he bolts for the entryway they’d just been blocking and disappearing, a few drops of blood the only proof he had, in fact, been there at all.
“Shit!” Duchess snaps, the sword vanishing from her hand as she checks Peter over.
“I’m fine, Miss Duchess! I promise!”
“Bucky?” Her eyes are searching his before running down his body, looking for an injury.
“Fine, doll.” Bucky freezes, sniffing the air. That same sickly sweet smell from earlier tickles lightly at his nose. Now Bucky is checking her over, the smell of blood now obvious to him. “Your arm!”
“I’ll be fine, Bucky.”
“That blade has the same poison as this morning. You will absolutely not be fine.” Bucky retorts, putting pressure above the wound so the poison won’t travel further up her arm and towards her heart.
“Bucky,” His name is growled out in a low tone, which he ignores as Peter calls the Tower for help. There is a pregnant pause. “James.” His eyes shoot up, her eyes a dance of red, orange, white and tiny licks of blue. “Release my arm.” The look on her face tells him it’s alright, so he reluctantly lets go.
That’s when her whole arm and shoulder burst into flames, the same colors and shades as the ones that dance in her eyes. He takes another small step backwards, just due to the brightness of the flames, making sure to switch back to his normal eyesight instead of trying to keep up in the darkness with the fae cloaked man.
“WHOA! THAT WAS SO COOL!” Peter shouts excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“A hellhound,” Steve and Tony both breathe out as they come upon them, dressed in full outfits and ready for a fight, as they watch her casually brush the ash from her shoulder and down her arm, making her quirk an eyebrow.
“Did Phil not tell you??”
“No, ma’am.” Steve’s ears turn a bit pink while Tony just keeps staring at her curiously. “All he said was you were a tracker.”
“Ahh,” She nods, reaching for Bucky’s hand as her heart rate starts to get back to normal. “Most people have negative ideas about us, so probably didn’t want to bring it up.”
But Bucky doesn’t care what she is. He pulls her close, his flesh hand sliding down her shoulder and arm as he sniffs, making sure that sweet smell from earlier is completely gone.
“And what have we here?” Tony’s tone is surprised but also a little goading, grinning at Bucky as he tucks his mate against his chest.
“She’s Mr. Bucky’s mate!” -- “She’s my mate,” are said at the same time, overlapping as Duchess tilts her head to look up at Bucky.
“I’m fine, Bucky.” He just hums, giving her a squeeze before releasing her, even if it did hurt a little not to touch her.
“Well, look at that! And Natasha said nothing good would come from this case! She owes me $50 now!” Tony chuckles, the armor receding from around his body as he moves to the car and reopens the back door. “On the way home you can explain to me how you were able to withstand and get rid of that poison.” Duchess looks at Bucky and then to Steve before moving to join Tony, sliding in the car as Peter follows, eager to hear about the poison himself. Tony climbs in then sticks his head out, exasperation written clearly on his face. “Let’s gooo old guys!” Bucky can hear a soft breath of laughter come from you, making a little smile decorate his face in spite of what just happened.
“At least we know now she’ll be safe in one aspect,” Steve soothes as they head towards the car.
“Two. She fought him off as well.”
“Definitely a keeper then,” Steve says with a smile, letting Bucky climb into the car first.
-----*****-----*****-----
Last night was awkward.
Not from the neverending line of questions you received from the Avengers about being a hellhound. You quite enjoyed explaining your branch’s Greek origins and dispelling any worries.
No. It had been when it was time to bed down. Tony had the room next to Bucky’s set up for you at Coulson’s request - that man being far too intuitive for just a human - and just standing there staring at Bucky after you both wished each other goodnight.
Almost without either of your own biddings, you were in his arms as his lips captured yours for a searing and needy kiss. Closeness for the next week or so would be damn near mandatory because of your new bond, and even just a wall between you right now was difficult.
Because of your curse, you hadn’t had a real relationship - you hadn’t seen the need if you were supposed to die. And hadn’t wanted to risk having children if you wouldn’t be around to raise and care for them. And you had breathily explained that to Bucky as he had tugged you into his room.
Gently he tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling so damn softly at you. “I just need to be close to you. Sex can wait until you’re ready, or we get rid of the curse.” He looked almost pained for a moment. “I have nightmares still, about what I’ve done…” This time you reach up to cup his face to soothe him, watching this large man nuzzle against your palm. “But I also know I need to be as close to you as possible, Duchess. Please.” The please is whispered, but it didn’t matter how he said it - you simply couldn’t deny him. Not when you needed to be with him just as much as he did to you.
“I have bad dreams too, Bucky. We all do. It won’t keep me from your side.” He releases a deep breath, giving you a soft and quick kiss.
“I’ll grab your bag from next door and bring it in here, ‘kay?” You hum your agreement before he gives you another kiss, quickly striding from the room.
The room is a darker gray than your office, and your little studio above the club too, but not so dark as to make the room dreary. More moody for sure though. He has a wall, the wall he would have shared with you, filled with framed pictures. Most are in black and white, clearly from WWII and before. There is no rhyme or reason to how they are laid out. There is a picture of himself and Steve laughing, black and white, next to a picture of Bucky in what you assume is Wakanda, with children sitting on his shoulders and hanging off both arms, his hair half up in a bun with a smile so wide gracing his face you can barely see his cobalt eyes. There is another beside it with Sam, Steve and himself standing in front of the Brooklyn bridge. Another black and white under that one, this one with the Howling Commandos. The one beside that is Bucky, Steve, and two people who looked familiar but you couldn’t recall their names, all looking seriously down at a lit up map table. You can just make out Steve’s hand entwined with the woman’s on the tabletop.
“That was Steve’s mate,” Bucky startles you a little, being so absorbed in the pictures - in his past - you hadn’t been paying attention. He closes the door quietly behind him before joining you before the wall. “Her name was Peggy Carter. They didn’t want to physically bond either.” You feel a sharp pang at the reminder. “‘Cause of the war...they were waiting til it was over. Steve didn’t expect to go down with the plane. She was still alive when he came out of the ice, but she had Altzhimer’s by then. Some days she would remember him, others she wouldn’t.” Bucky’s eyes are misty as you stare at him while he stares at the picture. “I was the Soldier then...so Steve didn’t have anyone from the old days. And then Peggy died. He was disagreeing with Tony then...and then he was trying to save me.” You wrap your arms around Bucky’s middle as he drops your duffle and wraps his own around you tightly, nose in your hair.
“No one is to blame. Especially yourself.” You soothe your mate, this being the first real moment that you realized exactly how alone Bucky had been for so long. And that realization brings upon another: that’s why he’s willing to go tooth and nail against the Fates. Squeezing him tighter before gently pulling away as he turns slightly confused eyes on you, before your fingers gently tug at the bottom of his shirt.
“Let’s get ready for bed,” You explain softly, running the back of your finger along his jawline. He nods, picking up your duffle again and offering it to you.
“I’ll change in the closet, you can have the bathroom, doll.” You manage a small nod before quickly heading for the bathroom and changing into your camisole and sleep shorts, nerves fluttering hard in your belly.
He’s shirtless, with his back to you, and a pair of boxers sitting low on his hips, fixing the sheets and blankets as you just gape at the man before you.
Hot. Damn.
You’re not sure how you aren’t drooling, watching the muscles in his back and shoulders move, even watching the scars you can see on his left arm move atop his skin as he works.
“Like what you see?” His voice has a playful edge before he turns to face you, and Gods! You had thought his back, ass and thighs were nice...his front makes you swallow hard, drying to drag your eyes up to his handsome face to little avail. You make sure to avoid his crotch with your gaze, heat climbing up your neck at even the thought. Dropping your gaze to his bare feet, you're surprised. Not even ugly feet. Handsome bastard.
He moved quickly while you were lost in your head, tilting your face up from his feet gently.
“You didn’t answer me, doll.” He reminds with a small smirk, teasing again.
“How could I? You’re so beautiful, I couldn’t even find words.” Something about the way you said it had him flushing, before kissing you hard.
“The things you say to me, doll, I swear…” He gives his head a shake before leading you to the edge of the bed, heading to the other side. He’s letting you be in charge of things, only easing into bed after you do. He stays close, his hand seeking yours out, but he doesn’t make any other move. Taking a deep breath, you turn onto your side, facing him before scooching forward until you can rest your head on his chest, arm sliding around just under his ribs. He relaxes as you do this, kissing the top of your head and his arm comes around behind you to keep you as close as possible to his side.
“Goodnight, mate,” You whisper softly, the day catching up with you.
“Goodnight, my sweet little mate,” Bucky coos back as you toss your leg over his, taking a deep breath as he smiles sleepily, because for a minute in his life, everything is alright and wonderful.
It was awkward because you had woken up clinging to him like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean, with him semi-curled around you like he was trying to do the same...but after the soft reassurances of touch and a myriad of kisses, you’d both exited his room. Only to be seen by Wanda, Sam, and Pietro. And somewhere between the walk to the kitchen and sitting down with the omelet Bucky had made you, everyone else was filing in, with knowing smiles and gazes, making you press into Bucky’s side more.
You were a badass hellhound, but sweet Persephone, all this attention on you in this way was a lot to manage.
Phil comes out of the elevator to your left as you stand to put your dirty dishes up, Bucky tugging them from your hand as Phil beckons you forward, hand full of files.
“Now this morning, you, myself, Barnes - congratulations by the way,” He gives you a genuine smile before continuing, “Rogers, and both Maximoffs will be going over all the sites of kidnappings and killings. Natasha will be joining us when she is done with her meeting with Fury.” He hands over the files. “And don’t worry, those are all copies.”
“Good.” You manage to get out, your chest tightening as the files are placed in your hands. “And thank you. I lucked out,” You answer, the forced smile turning pure as Bucky enters back into your line of sight.
“We leave in 30!” Phil shouts before taking a seat at the breakfast bar where you had just been sat.
You dress comfortably, in some worn jeans and an equally worn dark blue baseball tee with an image of Medusa emblazoned on the front. Paired with your checkered Vans and a pair of dark sunglasses, now shoved atop your head, you tuck your cellphone into your backpocket and grab your wallet from the top of the dresser, where it sat right alongside Bucky’s - as if it had always belonged there.
“Ready!” You call to Bucky, rapping on the bathroom door once. His hair is pulled half up, toothbrush in his mouth as he opens the door. Shirtless again. He smirks when you stare before realizing what you’re doing and attempting to stop.
He pulls the toothbrush from his mouth, his eyes roaming down your own body with hunger before crooking his finger at you. “Look your fill, little mate.” You want to be upset at the teasing, but when your eyes meet his, there is absolutely no teasing.
You aren’t used to men being this honest with you. It’s startling just in itself.
“Are you almost done?” You finally manage, mouth going dry as he rinses his mouth out and wipes his face off. He already knows you enjoy watching his muscles work. But in all honesty, you’d probably like to watch him do just about anything. Shirtless or clothed.
“Just need to grab a shirt. Would you like to pick?” It’s a simple and innocent question, but sends butterflies fluttering all through your chest and stomach.
“I can do that if you like,” You respond with a smile before turning to his closet.
There’s a lot of black. There are a few pops of color, a couple maroon shirts and maybe four dark blue ones. You’d probably actually drool to see him in a tight white shirt. You run your fingers along the shirts, settling on what felt softest. It was a black v neck t-shirt, obviously worn often at the lighter shade of black it now was, presenting it with a big smile before his own died down with one look at the left arm. You pull the shirt back closer to you before setting it back amongst it’s brethren. How could you be so stupid?! Just because you didn’t regard his metal arm as different or needing to be covered, didn’t mean others wouldn’t. You feel his heat, glancing from the rack to his eyes.
“People don’t -”
“I understand.” You withdraw a long sleeved black shirt, thinner material so at least he wouldn’t be super hot. Offering it to him, you see his gaze flick briefly to the other shirt. “But just so you understand me, I don’t give two shits about your arm. And gods help anyone who says anything negative about it in front of me.” His lips are on yours while his arms wrap around you tightly, the metal digits wrapping around the back of your neck, making you sigh at the coolness and him to deepen the kiss as one hand tightens around the hanger holding the shirt, the other mimicking his and scratching at the nape of his neck.
When he pulls away, he mouths at your neck, and your head tilts to give him all the access he wants while trying to take in calm, steady breaths while clinging desperately to your mate.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” He admits, tugging on your earlobe with a low growl.
You take the hand from his neck and make him look at you, fingers gently holding his chin.
“You are exactly yourself, Bucky. You were born and that’s all you had to do to deserve me,” You soothe, feeling the edges of your power dancing behind your eyes again. And him staring at your eyes confirms that.
“You’re too good.” He says finally, watching the lights slowly fade behind your eyes. And that is like throwing a bucket of water on you, making sure you slowly disentangle yourself from him and hold the shirt out with a small smile.
“I’m not. Please get dressed, I don’t want Phil having to come get us.” He can sense the shift, but he lets you leave the large walk-in closet without a word, pulling the shirt carefully over his head before walking into the empty bedroom.
-----*****-----*****-----
The first kidnapping scene is so old you can’t get anything from it. Not even after burning herbs that Wanda had brought had you been able to gather anything. Not even touching the brick around the area where they were taken had any effect.
You move onto the first murder scene. It was behind an old Italian restaurant, and while the scent of garbage was a tad overwhelming to your now in overdrive senses, you could sense the death there. The soul that lingered there hidden in a dark niche a little further down the alleyway.
“Thig air adhart,” You whisper as you kneel before the dark hole. Come forward you beckon with your outstretched hand. The soul moves closer to peek at you, retreating a little when it sees the others a few feet behind you. “No,” You say softly, radiating the otherworld to put it at ease. “Don’t worry about them. No one can hurt you anymore, beag daor.” It likes your nickname, little dear, easing out more towards your fingers. “Would you like to go to the plains and forests?” It nods it’s shadowy head. “I know all the steel and iron is confusing, isn’t it?” Another nod. “Confuses what direction the sithen is...of where the otherworld is.” More exaggerated and eager nodding. “I am a hellhound, and I will release you to the otherworld, okay? But I need to know what happened to you. Can you show me what happened when they took your life?” The little shadow person wraps itself around your hand and forearm, throwing your head back with a deep gasp as the images flash through your mind. A glint of light as it backs you into the alleyway, the orders of ‘give it to me!’ before the pain of the sword slashing them runs through you as well. The last images are as you bleed out, brain trying to catch up with your demise, the boots of your attacker the last thing you see. And they’re odd. Black, but like a watery oil spot on a parking lot top. It’s got a wet, almost rainbow-like sheen in the low light of the alleyway, and a little out of focus golden symbol on back, seen where the cloak rode up a bit as they walked away.
A shiver rolls through you, before your other hand comes up to brush over the soul.
“Thank you, beag daor. You have been most helpful. I wish you much happiness in the otherworld, may the God and Goddess watch over you.” And then your whole body is swathed in blue flames, the little soul in your hand disappearing in a pure white ball before the fire goes out as quickly as it came into being.
“He said it happened quickly, the cloaked man backed him into the alley. He wanted something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Then he was stabbed and bleeding out over there. Last thing he saw was oily looking black boots with a gold symbol neither of us could make out.”
“And that helps how?” Pietro asks, watching as you stand up and shake off like a dog before a big gust comes behind you and rids you of any remains of ash.
“The cloaked man was wearing fair folk made leather. It is the only kind to have the oily, rainbow-like sheen I saw through his eyes. And only a handful of places in New York, hell, on Earth, produce those kinds of goods.” Phil is already on the phone before you finish your sentence, Bucky moving forward with a bottle of water held out for you. You’re grateful for the thought, gulping it down greedily.
“Next one then?” Steve asks with another look past you to the dark niche.
“Next one.” You confirm, looking at Bucky then Phil.
-----*****-----*****-----
The other two murder scenes don’t give you shit, and the next kidnapping scene was a jumble of terror and screaming stored in the brick and cement wall, making you throw up alongside a few dumpsters at the echoes of it rattling around your head temporarily. Something else happened on this side street, cause it was too fresh to just be the kidnapping.
Sitting at a small diner, after you’d bought a travel toothbrush and toothpaste at a little corner store and thoroughly brushed your teeth, you munch on homemade fries, glad they’re lightly seasoned. Bucky keeps pushing his cottage cheese at you, an offering to help appease your stomach. You’re starving, but now wary enough for the upcoming scenes that you don’t want to eat much. His burger looks mouthwatering, minus the onions which have always given you heartburn, which makes your little salad even more disappointing. You’d gotten halfway through when he had gently elbowed you, his cobalt eyes concerned. “Fries,” He stated simply, reaching for his chocolate milkshake.
Natasha had joined you all at the diner, with Clint at her side, which Coulson said was normal. And even her large stack of pancakes looked better than your salad. Steve comes back from the bathroom with a blt on a little plate, yanking the salad out in front of you and setting the sandwich in its place. “Eat,” He orders sternly, to which you just rolled your eyes but happily obliged with one giant bite. Gods, you love bacon.
“So how many scenes is that then?” Clint asks, polishing off his meatloaf sandwich.
“Three murder scenes and two kidnapping scenes.”
“Unfortunately, we’re half way done,” Wanda says after a long sip of her iced tea.
“Some are just too stale - or the soul moved on - for me to get anything,” You mutter around another big mouthful of sandwich, Bucky’s lips twitching at your actions.
“That’s why we are gonna flip what we’ve done so far this morning and afternoon. Freshest to older this round. Hopefully that helps. Just wanted to get what we could from the oldest sites.” Phil tosses his wadded up napkin onto the tabletop as he finishes speaking.
That makes you set your sandwich down. Cyrus was the last victim. Just the reminder of that was enough to make you queasy.
Natasha holds up a small bottle of pepto and something that looked like a vial of smelling salts, while Clint held up a tiny bottle of mouthwash. Bucky glares at his friends as you reach for your iced tea. Steve is about to say something when you tilt your head to the left, tensed and listening. Your gaze slides to your phone on the tabletop then out to the street through the diner’s big picture window, setting your glass back down softly.
“Doll?” Bucky asks softly, already tensing up himself at your demeanor. A tall, dark man appears - almost suddenly - on the sidewalk outside, making the brightest smile break out on your face, Bucky’s worry easing down a bit at that.
“I’ll be right back!” The smile hasn’t died down at all. “My uncle!” You explain as you kiss Bucky’s cheek before darting over the backside of the booth and out the door.
They all watch as you throw yourself into the man, his big arms wrapping around you as he kisses the top of your head. His dark blue eyes pierce Bucky through the window before giving a little nod and tucking your arm into the crook of his, headed to the left and down the street out of their sight.
“You’re gonna get your ass chewed when they get back,” Steve says with a hint of glee, polishing off Bucky’s cottage cheese.
“You should be happy if it’s just chewed,” Phil chuckles out, popping a fry into his mouth. He waits until Bucky’s focus is completely on him and not the window. “Her beloved uncle is Hades. That Hades.” Bucky and Clint choke on their drinks, coughing loudly as Steve and Natasha bang on their respective backs.
“She has a complicated family tree,” Phil continues on as if Bucky and Clint hadn’t just nearly choked to death. “Her ancestors, as she told you all before, are of Greek origins. Her great-great however many times grandmother nearly died protecting Hecate and her fellow handmaidens. So, Hecate called Hades to help her save the handmaiden. Hades and Hecate changed her into a hellhound. Greek and other older cultures hellhounds aren’t always the doom and death ones we naturally associate them with. They were protectors, they were escorts of those lost in dark areas, they could also harm those who did wicked deeds on backroads. All hellhounds deal with souls and death, that’s just part and partial to it. Duchess is special though. When she was little,” He shakes his head with a small smile still on his face. “The things she could do…”
“Which led to the situation she’s in,” Bucky finishes somberly.
“Not just that. What she’s capable of...rivals that of the most powerful master vampires and mid-level gods.”
Natasha’s gears are turning as she speaks, “She lives above the bar, doesn’t she? Right on the edge of the fae community. Where no kidnappings or murders have happened.”
“Her presence there is a beacon of safety. It extends for blocks in any direction. Less crime and she helps all kinds, which is why so many in the area are so protective of Duchess. She’s an active handmaiden of Hecate and Persephone, she makes good luck charms for high schoolers and college kids during exam times, she donates money for uniforms for kids sports all around the city, and yes, you are absolutely correct Natasha; All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”
“So in terms of scary,” Pietro begins, “she should be #2 in the hierarchy now? Bump Natasha down a notch?”
“Why’d you wait so long to bring her in?”
“She doesn’t like working with the NYPD. They have a few higher ups who are fair folk and she tries not to deal with any court-blooded fae. I mentioned her to Fury as soon as we got the case.”
The diner bell above the door chimes as Duchess tugs her Uncle excitedly into the establishment. As they approach, Bucky kicks Steve to get him moving from the booth to allow him out. He stands, nerves eating at him internally as his wolf paces as the pair come to a stop before him.
“Uncle, aftós eínai o sýntrofós mou,” Your face is filled with so much joy looking up at your uncle, Bucky can’t help but smile himself.
“Bucky, this is my Uncle Hades.” The man is nearly a head taller than Bucky, built similarly, just lankier looking legs, and with the most intense sapphire blue eyes Bucky has ever beheld. He swore he could see little flecks of gold, silver and bronze in there as well. He extends his hand to the god, watching him look at his hand for a beat before grasping it with his own and giving it a firm shake and squeeze, which put Thor and Steve’s to shame.
“He’ll do,” The dark god rumbles out, dropping Bucky’s hand as Duchess’s smile brightens and she moves to latch onto Bucky’s vibranium arm, tilting her face up to Bucky’s mildly shocked face. “I will see you all this evening. Good day.” He turns slightly towards the table, giving a little bow. “Filiá sto moró,” He says in that deep timber to Duchess, kissing the tips of his two fingers then pressing them to her forehead.
As soon as he disappears out the door, Bucky lets out his breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, making Duchess and Steve chuckle.
“No need to fear him,” Duchess soothes, reaching behind him for another french fry from his abandoned plate.
Bucky lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeeeaaah. That sounds like good life advice. Don’t fear Hades.” Phil excuses himself to pay the bill while Duchess slides back into the booth for more french fries.
“What did he mean he’ll see us this evening?” Wanda asks, carefully stacking the empty dishes around her.
“He sensed something, so came above. He said it was supposed to happen this evening, so he would be coming to give protection.”
“Well, I must thank him later for that protection. We need all the help we can get,” Phil says from behind Bucky. “Let’s go.” He says in finality, walking towards the door as he slips his aviation sunglasses back into place.
“You heard the man,” Pietro bites out with a mock salute, shuffling out of the booth after his sister swatted his arm.
“Man,” Steve begins with a disbelieving shake of his head after taking in the dregs of his vanilla milkshake. “Hades really left you with a ‘that’ll do, pig’.”
“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky shoves his best friend who just keeps that big stupid smile plastered to his face as Bucky outstretches his hand to his mate, who is just as amused by Steve’s shit as Steve and Clint. “Not you too, doll.”
Duchess presses herself against his chest, tilting her head up to look at him with the sweetest smile on her lips.
“I wouldn’t compare you to a pig, handsome.” Bucky leans down to kiss her when he hears the next part. “Especially when you’re more like the farmer. All stoic and shit.” Clint and Steve laugh uproariously as Bucky’s face turns down in a scowl, peering down at his little mate who is sporting a triumphant smile.
“You’re a brat,” Bucky hisses, straightening up as she now pouts.
“I’m still a brat who wants a kiss though!” She says loudly as he moves her out of the way to get out of the diner, Bucky shrugging as he exits the diner, vampire side elated at his feisty bride.
Bucky is waiting for her as she comes out of the diner, wrapping her in his arms and dipping her for a kiss, waiting until he feels her relax against him before straightening up with her still securely in his arms. “You’re my brat,” He smirks as he feels her arms entwine around his neck.
“I could have sworn I mentioned I was a pain in the ass…” She remarks as she rises on tiptoe to rub her nose against his.
“Don’t worry,” Clint remarks with a large brownie from the dessert display case in one hand and the cupcake he just took a big bite out of, judging on the pink icing on the corners of his lips, “It’s like a requirement for SHIELD. And Bucky and Steve have it nearly perfected.”
“I do not!” Steve’s outraged voice comes from directly behind Clint.
“Ohh, I see!” Duchess murmurs against Bucky’s lips with her own smirk. “You’re all used to dealing with pain in the ass brats.”
“YES I AM! CAN WE CONTINUE ON WITH OUR WORK?” Phil shouts from further down the sidewalk, giving off very ‘Done’ vibes.
I had been gone from tumblr for a few months and missed the community here so much. I desperately wanted to get the gang back together, so I hosted this writing challenge.
I'm thankful to have so many friends participate and excited about the new friends I've made along the way.
These are the amazing stories they came up with:
Dialogue Prompts:
"Everyone acts like women are so fragile, but it's nothing compared to your ego."
You Make Me Wanna by @samwilsons-pillowpecs (Bucky Barnes x Sarah Wilson)
“If you feel intimidated, that’s your problem, not mine.”
Unintimidated by @crispychrissy (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Word Prompts:
Flâneur: a person of leisure who strolls aimlessly, observing life and society
Excuse Me, Miss? by @specialk-18 (Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader)
and I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter by @barnesandco (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Absquatulate: to flee or leave abruptly without saying goodbye
When the Family Grows by @arawynn (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
I Should Always Be Alone by @blackberrybucky (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Trouvaille: a lucky find
My Trouvaille by @amanda-teaches (Steve Rogers x Reader)
Song Prompts:
Nobody’s Love by Maroon 5
All I Never Did by @buckysbruni (Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader)
Hello lovely, I hope you are having a wonderful weekend and getting so much deserved rest. 😊💕
I was wondering in relation to your challenge, would a crossover with the MCU universe be accepted or would you prefer them to be just be from the MCU. I have a couple of ideas spinning for my prompt in which direction I can take it.
Hey!! I hope you're having a good weekend, too!
I am INTRIGUED by the crossover. Yeah, that's fine. What are you thinking??
