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buckysfaveplum · 2 years

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between two lungs

chapter 1

summary: y/n is desperate as her coven is in jeopardy. with no one else to turn to, she gives bucky a call

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!female reader

word count: 2.4k

warning: none really, mentions of witchcraft (always in this series), maybe some of Bucky's sad boi thoughts? thats it

a/n: y'all so sorry this came so late! I know how many of you were excited for this. I've been sooooo swamped lately so pls forgive me. this series will have no schedualed updates so i hope that's okay. i'll try to stay on top of it as i can! but pls enjoy!!!

(also the witchcraft in this series is not intended to be based on any real practices or religions etc. it's purely fantasy just like films and books)

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“How was therapy?”

“Same as always, boring.”

“Did anything big happen today? Any breakthroughs on the nightmares?”

“You know I don’t talk about those with her.”

“I know, just thought I’d ask.”

“When are you coming back to the city?”

“I’m not sure, I’m needed here. Things have been…strange.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

New York City was a cold place. The steel of the tall skyscrapers and smooth reflective windows of the buildings always made it seem more empty and cool than it was. New York City was not empty, not with over eight million people scrambling for housing. Not with subway cars packed so tight you couldn’t even relax your shoulders. The city was bustling and booming, yet Bucky never felt any of it.

Brooklyn wasn’t the same as he remembered. Sure, his memory was a splotchy, watercolor painting full of vague and blurry moments- but even he could feel the change in the borough. The small mom-and-pop coffee shops he used to grab a scolding cup of joe were now trendy cafes with neon signs and sleek black stools. The quaint apartment buildings once full of families and the working class were now packed with college transplants looking for an ‘authentic’ new york experience. The only familiarities in the neighborhood were the brick walls and crumbling stoops, reminding him of the summers he and Steve would spend talking on the steps til dusk.

Adjusting to his new life came with difficulties Bucky had never thought of. The journey of recovery was long and grueling but was making his way. The list of amends now complete and his mandatory therapy finished, he was finally headed in the right direction. Bucky decided to keep seeing Raynor. Her straightforward and blunt personality put him off, but deep down, he liked the routine. The comfort of being able to sit for an hour and just talk. After the breakthrough with Sam, his sessions had finally become productive. And besides, the guaranteed company at least once a week was nice.

He’d never admit it out loud, but he was lonely. He never imagined himself longing for the comfort of other people. Especially after all he’d endured. The early years of his recovery resulted in habits of a recluse with a cold exterior. The six months after the Blip, he was in a sort of purgatory. Stuck between wanting desperately to recover, to move on and finally become a person again, and wanting to crawl into his dingy studio and let the weight of his past life swallow him whole. His time with Sam was a wake-up call, the kick he needed to get moving. He missed his friend; missed his irritating nature and pushy attitude (he’d never let Sam know that of course). But there was something else, someone else.

Steve left your phone number for him when he told Bucky he was returning to Peggy. Bucky couldn’t understand why. Why would his best friend, the only constant in his life, the only person to think highly of him, leave? And leave him with nothing but a phone number. He never could have known how much he would need that.

You were an old friend, that’s what he told him. A friend through work who was good. A good person Bucky could trust. Steve told him you came to the city often for personal matters, maybe once a month. You would be there for him. You knew of his past and who he was, you were old friends after all. Of course, Steve would fill you in on his best friend. You were a shoulder for Bucky to lean on.

Bucky made the first move, well, technically Raynor did when she found out about the number. She asked Bucky if he’d mind if she texted you for him, he didn’t seem to care at the time. It was the best decision he could have made, and he didn’t even make it.

You were a breath of life into his stiff body. Your cool and calming aura always knew how to make him feel better. Whether a text or phone call, he could talk to you for hours. On days he couldn’t talk, he’d listen. Of your life, your job, anything. You were many things to Bucky, but boring wasn’t one of them.

He’d count down the days til you’d appear in the city again. He couldn’t get enough of you; how you’d greet him with a firm hug, your fingertips pressing into the nape of his neck and sending chills down his spine. You’d often end up crashing on his couch while there, staying up so late chatting there was no point in leaving. Bucky would never complain.

Steve had told him that day that you were just what he needed. Someone to confide in, someone to care for, someone to spend time with. A friend. Bucky thought he was full of shit. Till that first phone call. He was hooked ever since. Like he was under your spell, but that was a bit too on the nose.

“Y/n, could you grab me that book from the top shell?”

“Of course!”

The soft leather warmed under your touch as you pulled the book from the mahogany bookshelf. Dust sprinkled down as you descended the ladder and came to the table at the center of the study. The heels of your thousand button boots clicked across the dark marble floors. With a smile, you placed the book on the table, a loud thud filling the room.

You loved the time you got to spend in the grand study. Whenever your superior would call on you for help, you gladly came, excited to learn as much as you could about your craft. You watched now as the older woman before you read from one of the old spell books, looking for guidance from witches of the past.

Allegra was a witch wise beyond her years. Living through decades of civil unrest, political protest, economic ups and downs, and growth of equality. On top of all that, rising in ranks through her coven, taking place at the top at the young age of twenty-one. She was a woman of power and resilience. Though witches of the past hid, she put herself front and center in every line of action. She valorously took action during the rise of the civil rights movement of the 60s, and her presence was felt with her sisters during the wave of women's activism in the 70s. The deep wrinkles in her forehead showed the toll the years had taken on her, while the great smile lines around her mouth showed the joyous triumphs of her life. The most well-respected witch you knew, Allegra was a force to be reckoned with.

“Y/n, could you take a look at this for me, dear?” Allegra asked, stepping to the side to allow you space in front of the book. You nodded, moving around the table to see.

Your eyes scanned the pages, taking in the runes and writings of your sisters from hundreds of years ago. Spells were much less common now, years of growth and evolution from thousands of covens rendering them a more traditional and dated practice of witchcraft. While still a necessary part of the craft, witches like yourself could do much more now without the aging books.

“I don’t see what I’m supposed to be looking for?” You asked, still intently working through the pages.

“Here,” Allegra said, pointing to the paragraph at the bottom of the page. “This witch writes of disappearances similar to ours, only years ago. The circumstances are nearly identical, young witches fading from their covens with no explanation, strange weather patterns, a withering High Witch. I fear what’s here is what we’re facing now, Y/n.”

“Forgive my defiance, Ms, but only two witches have left us. And the weather, it’s New Orleans, what do you expect?” You asked, a small smirk on your face at her last quip. Allegra smiled, pulling the book back to her and clapping it shut.

“I admire your optimism, dear. But we can’t afford it,” she said, walking over to the bookshelf, ascending the ladder to return the text. You followed behind her, the billowing lace of your skirt floating around your legs. “The signs are all there, we need to prepare ourselves.”

“Allegra, I’m sorry, but is this not a bit rash? This could be something much less extreme. I mean our coven is still rather full. And our High Witch, she’s not withering. She’s as powerful as ever,” You said, looking up at your elder. You were just met with a half smile, bittersweet and telling. Her hair bounced and shone in the light trickling in from the stain-glass windows of the room, illuminating her like the beacon she was for her coven. “You’re not withering, are you?”

“I’ve been fading for months, dear,” she said, descending the ladder. Her long, boney hands took yours and held them to her chest. For the first time, you could truly see her age, the woman was tired.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me sooner? Tell the girls?” You asked, urgent as the gravity of the situation rushed over you. What would your coven be without your leader?

Allegra sighed, taking a seat in one of the lush green velvet chairs in the seating area. Y/n came to her side, kneeling at her armrest and taking her hand.

“Why? Are you sick?” she asked. The older woman just shook her head. She gave the younger witch at her feet a soft smile.

“I’ve felt it for weeks now. The energy has been off, our coven has been losing its power. I can feel it every day. The balance of dark is taking over. It’s taken everything in me to protect you girls. But I don’t know how much longer I can,” Allegra said.

“You didn’t tell me the balance was off. Why? I’m your apprentice,” You said.

“I thought the same as you at first, a small upset in the balance. But now I fear we’re facing what our sisters of centuries ago almost perished to,” the older woman said.

“So you think,” You started.

“Yes, Y/n. I think dark magic is taking over.”

Bucky couldn’t stop staring at his phone. You hadn’t answered any of his texts in days, not since that last phone call. He was embarrassed to admit it, but maybe he was a bit clingy. But could anyone blame him? After everything he’d been through, he wasn’t used to having people he cared about in his life. It stung like no other pain when Steve left. Now that he had someone new in his life he was attached to, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe you were hurt, something happened like an accident. Were you in trouble? Did something or someone do something to you? He wasn’t too familiar with the mystical side of the world, always baffled when he heard of Strange or Thor. But he knew enough to know he had reason to worry.

But what if it was none of that? What if you simply got tired of him? Finally growing sick of the role of babysitter Steve assigned you. You always said to Bucky you were truly his friend, that you weren’t just around due to an obligation you felt to the former Captain America. That you cared for him and loved having him in your life. But deep inside, Bucky always had a hard time believing you. You were a powerful, strong, intelligent woman; someone important and destined for great things. Why would you waste time on him?

His eyes couldn’t leave the little green button at the button of the app. Don’t call her, she clearly doesn’t want to talk right now, that’s all that ran through his head. But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. He had to call, one more time. If you were annoyed and didn’t want to talk with him anymore, that would be fine. But he just needed to know you were okay.

Before he could press call, his phone began to buzz. The little device shook and vibrated as a picture of the new Captain America began to flash across the screen. Bucky’s eyes rolled at the Marvin Gaye ringtone that blasted through the speaker. Sam had added that to his phone when he saw him last, against Bucky’s wishes. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea how to get rid of it.

“What?” Bucky asked, picking up the call.

“Well good morning to you too,” Sam said, his sarcastic tone seeping through the phone.

“Sorry, it’s just not the best time.”

“It never is with you,” Sam said, jokingly. He paused for a minute before continuing. “Look, I know it’s short notice, but I need your help with a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Bucky asked.

“Disappearances. Young women across the lakes between Delacroix and New Orleans.”

Bucky’s ears perked up at that. New Orleans, that’s where you were. Were you one of the women Sam was talking about? Bucky zoned out as Sam continued, his mind spiraling in a way only he could. Every worst-case scenario he could imagine smacked him in the face.

“...I don’t know what’s going on, I was asked to handle the situation but I need help. Can you be in Delacroix by tomorrow?” Sam asked. That brought Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Yea. I’ll see you then.”

Before Sam could say anything else, Bucky ended the call. Digging through his closet for his bag and gear. All he could think about was seeing you, checking in, and making sure you were okay. If you didn’t want to see him, so be it, but at least he’d finally have peace of mind.

Throwing his bag on the counter, he began tucking his gear and some clothes into the large duffle. As he shoved his boxers into the side pocket of the bag, his phone flashed with a message. It was probably Sam, sending him more information, where to meet him, stuff like that. Dropping his clothes, he took the phone. His heart stopped. Your name flashed on his screen, followed by a short message.

Bucky, I need your help. Can you come to New Orleans?

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