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buckybraneslover111 · 2 years

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Love p.2 - B.B.

summary: after the bombing in Vienna, Bucky was forced to come out of hiding, because he is framed for it. You and Steve found out where Bucky was living and decided to pay him a visit. After getting caught and arrested, they took Bucky to be evaluated, only for him to go rouge on everyone. What happens when you try to get him to come back to normal?

a/n: do not repost, translate or copy my work, also gif is not mine! credit to the creator. minor do not read!!

warnings: fighting, gun violence, mention of blood, smut 18+, lovemaking, breed kink, crying, choking(non-sexual), fluffy fluff:)

You and Steve snuck into Bucky’s apartment he had been hiding in since he pulled Steve out of the water that night, and now that you got the news about the bombing and it potentially being Bucky who did it, you were both concerned. You both looked around, moving trash around and looking behind everything. Steve grabbed a notebook that was on top of the fridge as you walked over to him looking over his shoulder, he flipped through the pages and found a picture of himself and a picture of you.

“Heads up guys, German Special Forces approaching from the south,” Sam said in your earpieces.

“Understood,” Steve said. You peaked over your shoulder to see Bucky standing in the middle of the room. You tapped Steve and he turned around facing Bucky with you. You both looked at Bucky as he stared at both of you sternly. “Do you know us?”

“You’re Steve and your y/n. I read about you both in a museum.” Bucky looked down at his feet then back up at both of you.

“I know you are nervous, you have every right to be. But you are lying.” Steve said.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don't do that anymore,” Bucky said.

“They're entering the building,” Sam said.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now, and they are not planning on taking you alive,” you said as you took a step closer to Bucky as he stepped back.

“That's good, great strategy,” Bucky said looking nervous.

“They’re on the roof, I'm compromised,” Sam said hearing the footsteps approach the door.

“This doesn't have to end with a fight, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky sighed, “It always ends in a fight.” he took off his gloves and sighed.

“Five seconds,” Sam said.

“Steve...” you looked at Steve.

Steve said to panic, knowing you didn't have much time, “You pulled me from the river why?”

“I don't know.” Bucky looked straight at Steve.

“Yes, you do.”

“BREACH! BREACH!”

...

After getting caught by the German police and getting taken back to the headquarters where they put Bucky in a holding chamber, where they locked him up to get evaluated. You, Steve, and Sam all got an ear full from Natasha and Tony, but you were more concerned about if Bucky was alright. You sat at the table and looked through the glass at Bucky on camera as he was just sitting there with the German investigator. Sam came up on the side of you and put his hand on your shoulder causing you to jump a little, looking at him and then back at the camera.

“You alright y/n?” he said softly.

“Yeah, I just wanna make sure he is okay.” you nodded crossing your arms on your chest. Sam looked down and noticed the ring on your finger.

“You still wear your wedding ring?” he said.

You looked up at him sighing, looking back at the camera, “Yeah.” You loved Bucky very much and you just wanted to kiss him all over and tell him how much he means to you. You knew you couldn’t because of certain circumstances but just wearing the ring made you believe that one day you could share the love with him and let him know how much he means to you. You were watching the interview happening on the cameras when all of a sudden the power goes out. You jumped up and looked at Steve and Sam then at Sharon. “What happened?!”

“Sub-level five, east wing,” Sharon said to the three of you. You all got up and ran down to the sub-level, hoping to get to Bucky in time. When you guys reached the sub-level, you noticed all the guards were knocked out. Steve walked into the room and was talking to Zemo as you and Sam looked at Bucky. Sam turned around and Bucky swung at him hitting the wall and breaking it. He grabbed Sam and punched him then grabbed his jaw and threw him across the room collating with the base he was in before. Steve pushed you out of the way as he and Bucky started to fight.

“Y/n, run!” Steve yelled. Bucky kept fighting him until he punched Steve down the elevator shoot. You stood by the stairway, Bucky turned to look at you as he cracked his neck. You gulped and ran up the stairs, Bucky following you close behind. You made it to the upper level and turned around to face Bucky, slowly walking backward. He looked at you with no emotions, like you were his prey.

“Bucky, I don't want to fight you, please.” you looked behind him and saw Tony as he motioned you to stay quiet. You needed to distract Bucky long enough for Tony. to sneak attack him. “Bucky, this isn't you,” you slowly started to back away from him, “You don't hurt people. Please snap out of it.” Bucky picked up a gun that was on the floor and he aimed it at you. “Please.” Tony came out from behind the corner and shot two shock ways at Bucky as you moved out of the way, picking up two guns from the floor, and putting one in your back pocket. The two men continued to fight until Tony was knocked to the floor. Sharon came up and started fighting him, only to be thrown into tables. You quickly got up and jumped onto his back, putting him in a headlock to cut off his breathing. He struggles a bit to get you off, then quickly walks backward into a wall, causing you to let go and groan.

He turned quickly and punched the wall near your head, you quickly moving out of the way. You punched him in the stomach and kicked him away from you. He stumbled back and you jumped onto a chair and tried to kick him, but he grabbed both your legs, wrapping them around his neck as he held you up from your back. He slammed onto a table, your legs tightening around his neck to hold him there. He reached down with his metal arm and wrapped his hand around your neck and started to squeeze, causing you to take short breaths. “B-Bucky! At least you could try to recognize me.” you groaned as he squeezed your neck a little tighter. Your eyes begin to water, wrapping your hands around his metal wrist, you both looking into each other's eyes. “J-James...” you said softly, trying to get air to your lungs, “James...please...” For a moment, you can see in his eyes that he knows who you are. You were the only person who was allowed to call him James, he hated it, but you loved it. Everyone called him Bucky because he didn't like his first name, but for you, you could call him whatever you wanted. His face begins to soften, the grip on your neck loosens, and you gasp for air, getting your lungs full again.

“B-Bunny…” he whispered to you, a spec of hope running through your eyes.

“I-I can’t breathe Bucky…” he still had a hold on your neck and he pulled his hand away and let go of you. You took in deep breaths and he stumbled back looking down at his hands.

“I-I-…” he was cut off by Kei kicking him.

…

Bucky groaned waking up, his metal arm stuck under a machine to prevent him from hitting anyone. You were sat down in front of him, with your knees to your chest, your head resting on them. Sam stood on the side of you and looked at him, “Steve.” he yelled out. Steve walked over to where you guys were. Sam shook you awake, “Y/n wake up.” You groaned and opened your eyes and stood up quickly looking at Bucky.

“James…” you took a step towards him and he looked up at you with a small smile.

“I wish I could remember you…”

“Don’t even bother y/n. He says he can’t remember but he is a liar.” Steve scoffed.

“I remember you, Steve, just not her.” he looked up at you. You walked over to Bucky and slapped him across the face. Sam went to go pull you away, but Steve stopped him. Bucky turned to look back at you and he sighed.

“I deserved that.”

“You remember him but not me?! Your wife for 4 years?!” you didn’t realize you were crying until you let out a sob.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I get nothing?! Nothing?!” you punched him in his chest and then in the face. Steve walked over and pulled you away from him. Bucky spits blood out and he looked at both of you.

“I deserved that. I’m guessing I went rogue again?”Bucky looked at Steve.

“Yeah, and you nearly killed her Buck.” Steve said, “But we need your help.”

“My help?”

…

After a long fight, you and everyone else returned to the compound. You walked to the elevator with everyone then turned around when you didn’t see Bucky. You looked at him as he was just standing there in silence. You walked over to him and he looked at you, “If you want, you can come up to my room and shower before you go.” Bucky looked at you with a little happiness in his eyes. He was going to go to Wakanda to get help to break himself free of Hydras' hold over him. He nodded and you turned towards the elevator, everyone getting in, letting you two come in. The door opened up on your floor and you and Bucky stepped out. He followed you to your room as you opened the door letting him go first.

“Y/n?” Steve said as you turned to him, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” you smiled a bit then walked into the room. Bucky stood by the table awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with you. You toss your tactical gear on the table, “Follow me.” you walked to your bathroom and turned on the shower getting it to a warm temperature. You started to strip your clothes, Bucky turning away from your naked form. You looked back at him, then turned away, “You don’t have to join me, but figured we could save water.” You stepped into the shower closing the glass door behind you, standing under the water letting it run down your face, sweat and blood falling off of you. You hummed at the warm feeling of the water relaxing your muscles. Before you could reach for the shampoo, you heard the glass door open and shut, feeling a presence behind you. You looked back up at Bucky as he towered over you.

“Save water,” he said softly.

You nodded and rinsed out your hair, moving forward out of the way of the showerhead, allowing Bucky to step forward, letting the warm water run down his body. You turned around, his back facing you, his head tilted up to let the water run down his long hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your hands on his stomach, resting your head between his shoulders. You noticed his breathing was uneven and you heard him sniffle. “It’s okay Bucky.”

“I want to remember y-you. I-I want to feel loved again.” he let out little hiccups as he cried silently letting tears fall down his face.

“Shhh it’s okay Bucky.” you kissed his shoulder. He turned around in your arms and looked around at you as your bodies pushed together.

“W-What if I can’t remember you? What if I go to Wakanda and they can’t help me and I-I’m just this killing machine and I can’t stop. I want to love you again. I wanna know what it’s like to feel that way again.” he held your cheeks with his hands, looking into your eyes with his glossy, teary blue ones.

“If you want to remember then go to Wakanda and get help. I’ll be here, waiting. I haven’t given up on you Bucky. I waited 43 years to finally see you again, I can wait even longer if that means I get to have you back.” you whispered to him, your lips close to his.

“What was the nickname I gave you? I-I remember I called you it before.” he sniffled.

“Bunny.” you blushed a little at the nickname. He gave you that name when you first started dating because you were always so cheerful and outgoing while he was the opposite.

“Bunny…” he said softly, “Kiss me.” he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning in, kissing you with a lot of passion, you returned the kiss and pulled him closer to you if that was possible. He pushed you up against the shower wall, pulling away to kiss your neck. You moaned out his name wrapping your fingers in his hair to keep him close to you.

“Make love to me James.” you moaned softly closing your eyes. You felt his hard-on press up against your stomach, his eagerness getting ahead of him, pulling your leg up to wrap around his waist. “James, take it slow.” you pulled him off your neck as his blue eyes were dark orbs now. “Please.” he put your leg down and turned you around so your chest was against the shower wall. You pant feeling him rub his tip against your weeping hole.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispers in your ear, sliding himself into you, both of you moaning at the contact. He pushed in deep, allowing you to feel every vein and inch of him until he was all the way inside of you.

“B-Buck...” you close your eyes moaning at the feeling.

“I-Its okay, I’m right here.” he pulled out until only the tip was in then he pushed back into you slowly groaning at your tightness. You put your hands against the shower wall trying to grip onto something as he started a slow hard pace, groaning in your ear every once in a while. You were a moaning mess, moaning his name and profanity. He put one hand on your hip and one hand on top of yours against the shower wall, your fingers interlocking with his. You threw your head back as one particular thrust hits against the squeezy thing inside of you.

“I-I love you James.” you moaned loudly, his thursts picking up in pace, his balls slapping against your clit, “I’m close!” you can feel the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, your orgasm approaching you quickly, his thrusts getting harder, hitting your spot every time. You gripped his hand hard, your orgasm taking over you, your legs shaking as you came around his cock. “James! Fuck! Cum inside me please!” you threw your head back against his shoulder as he was trying to catch his own orgasm.

“Yeah?! You want me to fill you up? Breed your little hole? Put a baby in you?!” he pinned both of your hands against the shower wall above your head, his thrusts getting faster and deeper.

“Yes! Give it to me Bucky! Fill me up!” you moaned loudly turning your head to look into his eyes. He looked into yours, lust running through his. “T-Tell me you l-love me, please?” tears started to form in your eyes as you both looked into each other's souls.

“I-I love y-you.” he leaned in, kissing you deeply, pushing deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. He pulled away and leaned his forehead agaisnt the shower wall as you both breathed heavily. “I love you bunny...”

He pulled out of you and you both finished your shower, washing and kissing each others body. You turned off the shower and stepped out handing him a towel while you wrap yourself in one. Following him out of the bathroom, you walked to your closet putting on a pair of biker shorts and a long shirt. Bucky put on his boxers, sitting on the bed looking at you. You walked over to him standing between his legs, running your hands through his hair, “You didnt have to tell me you loved me. It was the heat of the moment and I...”

He cut you off, “I do love you, I just wish I could be the man you had before.” he rubbed your hips under your shirt.

“I love you Bucky...” you kissed the top of his head, resting your head on his. “I got you something, you dont have to wear it, i just want you to have it.” you reached in your nightstand and took out a box handing it to him. He put his vibranium arm around your waist and opened the box seeing a wedding band. “This isn't your exact wedding ring, but its similar and I want you to have it. I want you to know that you arent doing this for me, but you are doing this for yourself, to be a better person. Like I said, I will be here waiting for you when you are ready.” you hugged his neck as you felt a wet spot on your shirt from him crying.

“T-Thank you.” he hugged your waist as you both stood there in silence, savoring the last moments you will have together until he comes back, not knowing how long that would be.

...

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buckyswifesblog · 1 year

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Masterlist

✍🏼 welcome loves

✍🏼 please don’t translate or used my stories

✍🏼 stories will also be posted in wattpad

wattpad: blcwinter

Characters

Chris Evans

Jake Wyler

Johnny storm

Harvard hottie

Nick Gant

Colin shea

Steve Rogers

Nick Vaughan

Frank Adler

Ari Lavinson

Ransom Drysdale

Lloyd Hansen

Sebastian Stan

Chase Collins

Bucky Barnes

Nick Fowler

Steve Kemp

Max

Jefferson

Tommy Lee

• Having an affair with Andy Barber

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

summary: Yn is a law student while dating Ransom Drysdale, what will happen when Ransom is being arrested for physically abusing yn plus attempted murder by his grandfather, will yn ever find love ? Will she be afraid of loving again, will yn find love working at a law office Where Andy Barber works at

• Broken heart

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

summary: Yn and Andy barber were friends since middle school they did everything together until andy ask yn out on a date in high schoolThey both were in love everyone was jealous of their relationship more the popular girls in school but what will happen when yn enter Andy's room to see him and Laurie naked in the bed, years later they both got invited to the reunion where they see each other again, what will happen when Andy try to get back with her, when yn doesn't want anything with him again

the assistant

Happiness

New parents

The other women

The proposal

Buddy

Love in the air

Emotional

Lust on web

Captain

Stalker

hike fun

#chris evans #sebastian stan #jake wyler #johnny storm #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve kemp #captian america #the winter soldier #frank adler #nick fowler #chris evans x original female character #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans series #sebastian stan series

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princessgriffin1998 · 1 year

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Specimen FX-23: Project Snow Fox // REBIRTH

Hello everyone!

I know I’ve been trying to edit my previous instalment to this series so that I can proudly present: REBIRTH. Part two of the Specimen FX-23 story.

I won’t lie, it’s been really challenging personally to write and have the bravery to post this, but I’m going to continue to push myself outside my comfort zone. I have quite a bit of the story completed, so I am going to do my best to see my story fully realized. I want to give a huge thanks to @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for always being so sweet to me and encouraging me to write, and I want to thank you for clicking this post and checking out my fun, zany lil world I’ve created for myself. I hope you enjoy the story and please leave your feedback in the comments!

This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader story with an AFAB reader and the use of nicknames (no Y/N).

Find the full story here!

Chapter Summary: After a few days with Shuri at the Los Angeles Wakandan Outreach Centre, Captain Rogers has arrived to bring you to the Avengers Compound.

Word count: 5.5k

RECOVERY / Next Chapter

Chapter One: Good-bye

“Good morning Soldat.” a man's voice greets you as you pant. The last of the electric current fizzled out of your system as your eyes finally unscrewed themselves and tried to focus on the technician in front of you.

“Ready to comply.” you respond breathlessly.

“We have a different training exercise for you today. New combatants. Get equipped and be in the training room in 10 minutes.” with that your technician stalked out of the room, the door bolting behind him. The clamps around your biceps and ankles launched open with a hiss and you shakily stood. You knew better than to be late as you made your way over to the metal lab table that held your equipment for the day.

You showed no emotion as you took in the suit in front of you. It wasn’t your normal lab clothing. You reached out a cautious hand to test the dark coloured fabric. It felt strong despite how smoothly the fabric flowed. You quickly stripped and changed into the suit, uncaring of the leering gaze from the scientists behind you. They only spoke English anyways and you hadn’t been able to learn enough to understand what they said about you while you undressed. You quickly slipped on the black socks and knee high boots left out for you. You secured your hair down the nape of your neck and away from your face as you glanced at the last item on the table. It was completely foreign to you. Slowly with your index figure, you traced over the smooth material of the item. You picked it up and turned to the scientists behind you.

“What do I do with this?” you called out in Russian.

You expected the eye roll from the man with the glasses; Doctor Nagel. Something deep in your gut told you that you shouldn’t let them know how much you could understand. Even though they rolled their eyes or got irritated with you, you never used any of the English words you had been able to piece together over… well, your whole life here.

“Silly girl. Can’t you see the ear hooks?” Nagel motioned his hands up to the sides of his head as if that was supposed to clear things up for you. You blinked at him till he threw his hands up and stalked over to you.

“Give that to me. Hands at your sides.” he commanded and you handed the item to him then pinned your wrists to the outsides of your thighs.

Nagel was your creator. You had no choice but to listen when he spoke to you. You’d tried to resist before, but found you were physically incapable of denying his wishes. No matter how disgusting they were. Nagel reached out and slipped the object around your mouth and nose, hooking the loops over your ears and securing what you assumed to be some kind of fabric fastening around the back of your head and along the nape of your neck. You could feel where it connected to the neckline of your suit. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your startling reflection in the lab window. Suited in all black up to your nose, your eyes glinting over the top of your new muzzle.

“Perfect. I think she’s ready for the Widows boys! Get to the training room now.” Nagel sneered and you raised your chin as best you could from under the muzzle before taking quick strides towards the training door.

When you entered the room, you were surprised to see another girl, but upon another glance around the room you realized there were several women, all similarly outfitted to you, minus the guard over the face. At the end of the gym, there were new men. They weren’t dressed in the standard lab clothing that your handlers wore. They wore suits with pressed pants. An older gentleman stood between several assumed guards, thick black glasses perched on his wide nose. He had silver hair that was slicked back and his left hand twirled a lit cigar. A ring flashed on his pinky.

“Soldat! Center of the ring.” your technician snapped.

You moved smoothly to stand opposite the young woman in the centre of the ring. She had warm, deep toned skin and piercing brown eyes. Her hair, a texture you’d not seen on any of the regular technicians that came to your lab, was twisting tightly in rows starting at her forehead and tracing down the back of her head to her neck. She glared at you and you clenched your jaw. She was beautiful. Your only human experience thus far had been the cruel men of your lab. Faintly, you wondered if she’d be allowed to live after whatever training was coming next.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the next phase of human evolution!” Nagel announced from behind you. You pressed your palms flat against your thighs as Nagel made his way around you, tossing an arm around your shoulder as he spoke to the new men.

“Today, we would like to show you the fruits of your money and our labour. Gentlemen I’d like to introduce you to Specimen 23 of Project Snow Fox.”

You startle awake, the dream leaving you in a cold sweat as you try to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your ears, a sure fire sign of a migraine on its way. Subconsciously you rub the back of your neck as you lay back down on your pillow, trying to breathe deeply and taking in the bumpy white ceiling above you.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, it hits you what day it is and you shoot upright in your hotel bed a second time.

Today is the day.

Any remaining traces of your nightmare vanish as you throw yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to begin your morning routine. Quickly brushing your teeth and securing your hair back and out of your face, you whip off your sleeping clothes and quickly change into an all black ensemble of cropped yoga pants, an athletic tank top with a sports bra underneath, and a black zip up. You make your bed and quickly go through your duffel bag again, everything perfectly folded and packed from when you’d refolded and packed it for the third time last night.

Today is the day.

Smiling, you slip on some black boots and grab a pair of aviator sunglasses. You put on a plain black ball cap, tucking your hair through the gap above the adjustment strap. You grab your backpack and adjust the straps slightly so that it sits comfortable on your back, giggling to yourself about the shape. Shuri had thought it was hilarious, grabbing the tiny backpack that looked like Cap’s suit. The two of you had snickered the entire time you were paying.

You quickly made sure you had all your important items inside the backpack; your music device from Shuri with your headphones, your journals and a pencil case of different pencils and fancy pens, a metal water bottle, a set of kimoyo beads Shuri had gifted you before your trip, and half a strip of photos from a photo booth. Shuri had taken you to a mall to get some American clothing and the two of you had stopped on a whim at a booth in the mall. Shuri had the top half of the strip and you had the bottom; two panels of you and Shuri grinning from ear to ear, almost spilling your smoothies on each other while laughing.

With a deep inhale, you take in one last glance at the hotel room that had been your home for the last week, before grabbing your room key and making your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

‘Today is the day.’

You and Shuri had been staying in a hotel down the road from the Wakandan Outreach Centre for six days. You haven’t seen Bucky or the rest of the team in nine.

After the fight in the lab you had been devastated. It had taken almost a full 24 hours for Shuri to be able to move you from your spot bundled up on the couch. All you’d had the energy for was quietly crying while Shuri rotated different movies for you. She put on all your favourites and brought you snacks that you couldn’t stomach and water you could barely sip.

You knew that Bucky might be upset with you for wanting to leave Wakanda, given that he’d been hiding the offer from you. He’d clearly not wanted you to move to America yet, and even though yesterday you had been hurting you had hoped that he still cared about you despite being worried about Hydra’s potential control. Obviously he just couldn’t trust Hydra, and you knew with his background that you would probably always be a threat to his family.

Maybe this was your fault too. You’d evidently read too far into his kindness. You’d been too unstable when you were first freed. Maybe he’d gotten close to you in order to tame you. Aside from Shuri, you didn’t have a metric for how much was too close to someone. He could’ve been a regular level of attentive and you’d misconstrued it.

Eventually after a day and a half you decided that your pity party needed to end. Shuri had already rescheduled some plans for the two of you because you couldn’t get off your couch. You still had Shuri, and even though you would be moving away from her she was still in your corner and so were Sam and Steve. You decided that you truly meant what you’d said in the lab. You didn’t need Bucky’s approval. You wanted to take the next step to better yourself and if he didn’t like it that was on him. Shuri had been surprised to see you up and about the next morning after two days of being almost comatose, but there you stood. Fresh from the shower, hair pulled back and secured away from your face, zipping up the athletic jacket you’d decided would be comfortable to travel in.

Oh and travel you did.

You didn’t think you’d ever tire of staring at the ocean. Shuri had let you sit in the cockpit of the jet with Ayo while she flew. The sun hitting the water had been beautiful, but the sun setting over the vast ocean as you made your way to America had been magnificent. Overwhelming in the best way possible. Shuri teased you mercilessly as you gazed out over the water for hours on end. After touching down in LA, Shuri decided it might be fun to stay in a hotel to try and help you integrate with regular society. It had been absolutely terrifying. Your nerves constantly telling you everyone who walked near you was a potential threat. You’d clenched your fists so hard in an effort to calm yourself your nails had broken skin. Shuri had gotten you your own room so that you could work on being by yourself, and that first night you spent in America you’d dragged the couch in your room in front of the door in addition to locking and dead bolting it.

Shuri had teased you about that too after making sure you were ok sleeping on your own.

You’d spent most of the week working in the Outreach Center with Shuri. It was a very similar routine to what you’d already established in Wakanda. During the day you had spent your time helping out around the Center, moving heavy things or just being an extra set of hands for the team and their work there. The Wakandan Outreach Center’s main focus was making sure that people of colour in the surrounding areas could have a place to go and feel supported. Most of the work in the Center was community based. Making sure kids could afford school supplies and lunches or have the resources they needed to complete projects and explore the advanced technology Wakanda had to offer. Shuri’s personal focus was encouraging girls to pursue science. The Outreach Center offered multiple different scholarships geared towards encouraging minorities to pursue fields that for centuries had been unattainable. One of your favourite memories of the week had been watching Shuri sign a cheque for a young woman to go to medical school. She and her mother, who’d previously been working two jobs to support them, sobbed tears of joy and you’d been honoured to see such a special moment take place. You’d added their teary smiles to your journal the minute you’d had some spare time.

Your hours in the Outreach Centre had not only been a fantastic way to work your jet lag, but also to watch people. Having your growth accelerated meant that you’d skipped on a lot of your developmental stages, adolescence, puberty. Here, you could just sit and watch all different kinds of people walk through the doors with their own mannerisms, subconscious habits, body language, and facial expressions. You’d learned how to read the different looks people give each other, the furrowed brow of confusion and how it differed from an angry brow. Most of your people-studies had come from Shuri and Bucky, so you’d always felt comfortable understanding what they meant when they spoke to you. With new people you’d learned just how much tone and inflection changed the meaning of a phrase. It started with trying to pitch your voice up when you made dry jokes because the people here hadn’t gotten your sense of humour at first. Slouching in your seat because you found people were freaked out by your robotic posture. So many things you learned while watching coworkers, friends, and families interact in the Centre. As you studied humanity more and more you confirmed to yourself that coming to America had been what you needed. You never could’ve learned all this from within your lab.

In the evenings when Shuri was finished with her team, the two of you went out and explored the city. Los Angeles was so different to anything you’d experienced in Wakanda. The insane hustle and bustle of the streets seemingly never ended. You and Shuri had explored malls together, you tightly holding her hand while the two of you browsed American fashion. The two of you had an absolute blast and Shuri promised the next time she came to visit you’d go to a theme park together. You’d been a little too nervous to make the trek this trip and your nerves were usually shot by the end of the day. Shuri had taken you to several beautiful parks, and the two of you had even taken a day trip to the beach.

You’d been a little too nervous to actually go into the water, but you’d plopped yourself on the shore and let the waves lap at your toes for hours. Shuri thought it was hilarious that you were so easily entertained, but staring out at the endless sea and sky was soothing. It made you feel completely peaceful and when you’d gotten back to your hotel room you’d passed out almost immediately. The jet lag probably wasn’t helping but with how many hours a night you slept normally you wondered if it even mattered.

After closing the door to your hotel room you made your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

The plan was to go to the Outreach Centre, where Captain Rogers would be parked with the Quinjet in stealth mode. You and Shuri had wanted to keep your arrival in America quiet. No need to alert Ross to another super soldier on the compound if they didn’t need to right away. You had listened in on Shuri’s conference call with the Captain and Stark, and by their tone you could tell Stark got a sick satisfaction out of hiding something from Thaddeus Ross.

“Good morning Foxy!” Shuri called as you approached her and the concierge desk. “How did you sleep? Good? Great! We’ve got about an hour for breakfast before we head to the Centre.” She grinned, taking both your key cards and sliding them to the receptionist.

Holding out her bag, you carried your luggage together in one hand as Shuri took your other to guide on the familiar walk to the Outreach Centre. An hour for breakfast really meant fifty-five minutes of goofing off in the IHOP across the street before realising you had five minutes to be on the jet.

The two of you were seated in your favourite corner booth next to the window that let you watch all the busy people making their way through the city. Shuri chattered excitedly about her latest tech project for the Centre while you counter all the exits in the building (One to the patio, a fire exit by the bathroom, one back door through the kitchen and the main entrance by the hostess podium), despite knowing them by heart after a week of breakfasts here. Shuri had wanted to come here one morning after seeing an ad on the TV. She’d decided that she’d never been so she’d treat herself and drug you along for some chocolate chip pancakes. After that she’d gotten hooked on everything the franchise had to offer and you’d eaten more waffles than you cared to admit.

The IHOP staff, to their credit, were absolutely lovely everytime you came in. They’d quickly accepted that you would always want a corner table where you could view the door, no matter how empty the restaurant was. They’d gotten used to your strange accent, a combination of Russian and somehow African while you tried to order your food in the morning. After the first few raised brows, you’d immediately begun correcting your accent to whichever variation of English was being spoken to you. Your American accent was fairly advanced compared to the beginning of the week when you’d arrived, but some words were always spoken with a bit of East African wrapped around them. The staff had also gotten accustomed to you ordering at least two meals, occasionally a third if you were having a particularly active day.

This corner was a particularly advantageous spot because you could see every entrance to the building, not to mention you could watch the breeze change to show the arrival of a stealth craft in the parking lot across the street.

“-it’s really something special Snow, I can’t wait for you to see it! Hey, are you even listening to me?” Shuri asked, poking your knuckles with her coffee spoon and startling you out of your surveillance.

You jumped slightly, finally tearing your gaze away from the window.

“My apologies, Shuri. I think I am a little bit distracted this morning.” you answered sheepishly, heat blooming across your face.

Shuri just snickered.

“Don’t worry. I know better than to take offence. If you’re worried about travelling, don’t be. Steve’s actually a great pilot when he’s not sacrificing himself for the greater good. And Stark’s A.I isn’t half bad. You’ll get to New Jersey in no time. Plus once you’re there you’ll be begging to leave Jersey and come home to me so everything will work out.” Shuri joked. You laughed despite not quite understanding why “Jersey” would be somewhere you’d desperately want to leave.

“I guess… I am worried they will not like me. I threw Natasha into a wall, and she accepted my apology but the rest of the team does not know me at all. What if they hate me?” You whispered, fidgeting with the handle of your mug.

Shuri just smiled and reached out a hand, clasping your fingers between her own.

“Listen Snow Fox, it’s ok to be scared of things. You’ve been through so much change these last few months. It’s natural that you’re nervous, but I just want you to remember all that you’ve accomplished so far. You’ve improved your communication, your memory, even your fighting. You’re doing so well and growing so much. I’m very proud of you and even if they haven’t said it, I know the team is too.” You could hear the message behind her words; Bucky was proud of you.

It’s not that you didn’t want to believe her, but in the six days you’d been in America you hadn’t heard from any of the team personally aside from Steve. Shuri’s music device also had a communication link, so he’d messaged you briefly when you’d arrived in LA, happy that you’d gotten there safely. Aside from a few brief conversations about your room and if you had any food allergies, you’d barely heard from him.

Bucky however had not reached out since your fight.

“Thanks Shuri. It is nice to be reminded sometimes, of where I started and where I am now. I’m just nervous they won’t like me. I know I am… odd to say the least.” Shuri just laughed.

“Well who on their team isn’t? You’ve got two 100 year old super idiots, a former KGB spy, a guy who cosplays Robin Hood for a living, modern-day Icarus, and a billionaire funding all their crazy. Not to mention a witch and an android. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.” Shuri grinned. As you smiled back and squeezed her hand, your ears picked up a large change in the wind outside.

“Ah, I take it the Quinjet has arrived on top of the Centre. Alright let’s pay up and see you off then!” Shuri smiled, flagging down your server so she could settle the bill.

Much to your server’s chagrin, Shuri pressed a $100 note in his palm as a tip with a litany of gratitude towards him and the team for being so kind to the both of you this week. She then stuffed another five of them in the tip jar on your way out. When you were royalty, unlimited money was something fun to play with, you supposed.

As you made your way across the street, you clutched the straps of your duffle bag so hard your knuckles turned white.

‘You can do this. You can do this. Steve is very friendly. You are going to be fine.’ you chanted in your head over and over, as if the harder you thought about it the easier it would be to believe.

You forced a smile on your face and waved at the workers in the Center as you made your way up to the roof. Most of the Wakandans and volunteers were used to your strange behaviour so you hoped your expression looked cheerful. You dropped Shuri’s bag off at her office, adjusting your bags and checking their contents for the 3rd time that morning before making your way to the roof.

Before Shuri opened the door, you both put your sunglasses on and she grabbed your free hand.

“Ready?” she grinned.

You did your best to plaster a smile on your face and the reflection in her glasses was almost believable.

“Ready.” you nodded, before Shuri threw the door open.

Watching the Quinjet come out of stealth mode was a sight you didn’t think would ever get old. The wind whipped around you briefly as the ramp descended, and a casually dressed Steve Rogers came to greet you.

“Good morning Snow Fox!” he called, a grin across his face.

You could feel the tension draining out of your shoulders as he made his way over to greet you.

“Good morning Captain!” You chirped happily.

Steve just rolled his eyes.

“Y’know I said you can still call me Steve right? We’re friends. Friends don’t speak so formally.” he teased, heat blooming across your face.

“Yes.. I-I forget sometimes.” you stammered, wincing at how unsure you sounded.

Steve however did not let that deter him.

“Well that’s fine. We’ve got a whole flight for you to remember. Good morning Princess.” Steve said with a nod to Shuri.

Shuri just snorted in response.

“What are we not friends? I already call you Steve, you can call me Shuri.” she said as the two shook hands.

Steve just smiled.

“Well, the Quinjet is pretty fast. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so for us to get to the compound. I can take your bag while you say goodbye if you’d like?” Steve offered, a hand extended.

You nodded and passed your duffle along to him before turning to face your best friend. You weren’t sure what to say but luckily Shuri always had something to say and beat you to it.

“Well, you have my contact in your device and kimoyo beads. You can call me at any time. I’ll be about nine hours ahead of you, but if you need me I’ll answer at any time you know that. If you hate it you can call me and I’ll come get you, no questions asked ok? And I know you haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve already notified Helen Cho, the compound's chief doctor so she can give you something if you can’t sleep. Remember to update me on your training! I want to know exactly how bad ass my best friend is getting!” Shuri rambled, her hands wringing nervously in front of her stomach.

You could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you threw your arms around her. Shuri inhaled sharply before wrapping her arms around your torso as tightly as she could.

“Thank you for everything my friend.” you started in Xhosa, knowing how much it meant to Shuri that you’d tried to learn as much of her native tongue as possible. “I promise to call often. I’ll send you so many pictures and videos of my training you will tire of me I promise. I want you to know that I never would’ve gotten to this point if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m well aware.” Shuri teased, her words thick with emotion.

“Well you deserve to hear it. You deserve to hear that you are the most amazing best friend anyone could ask for, and if there is anything that I am grateful for in my existence, it is that we had the chance to meet and become friends. You have shown me kindness that I will never be able to repay, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to share that with the world. You gave me purpose, my friend. I swear to make your efforts worthwhile.” you grinned, pulling away from her you both giggled at the tears in each others eyes.

“Call me as soon as you’re settled in your room! I’m assuming they have a tour or orientation planned for you. So call me as soon as you can!” Shuri grinned, swiping at the moisture under her eyes.

You let out a watery laugh as you nodded.

“I will. See you soon, friend.” you smiled.

With one final hug you made your way over to where Steve was watching the two of you from the ramp. A soft smile graced his face as you turned to wave a Shuri one last time before boarding the jet.

“So how has your week in LA been?” Steve asked, trying to make small talk as the two of you made your way over to the cockpit.

“It has been… very busy.” you admitted, as you took off your backpack and settled into the seat behind Steve’s right side.

“Well that’s good! Lots of new experiences I’d ima- what is that?” he asked, pointing a finger at your bag.

You flushed under his sudden attention.

“Um.. .Shuri suggested I get a backpack and thought this one was funny…” you trailed off in embarrassment.

Steve just threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s great! Sam is gonna be so jealous.” He grinned and you beamed back.

“I would imagine he’ll be quite scandalised that there was no Falcon merchandise in the store.” you quipped, causing Steve to laugh even harder as he re-engaged stealth mode and began the launch sequence.

“Oh don’t even start. He’s such a drama queen sometimes.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

You smiled as Steve launched into an anecdote about Sam wanting to create merchandise for ‘Red Wing’, his robot AI that helped them on missions. Slowly the nerves set in as you thought about the rest of the team.

“Steve?” you started, the man in question humming in acknowledgement.

“What is the rest of the team like? I’ve only met Sam, Natasha, Clint, and… Well what are the others like?” You asked, unable to ask Steve about the one member of the team you were truly curious about.

“Well, Wanda isn’t that far off from you in age. I think you’re biologically around the same. Vision… Vision actually reminds me a lot of you. He’s an android so while he’s very intelligent, we all know there are some “human” things that escape him sometimes. He’s very polite though and head over heels for Wanda. The two of them are actually very sweet together. Burce, our team's previous resident doctor, is actually off the grid right now. We haven’t seen or heard from him in about two years. I’m sure you’ve seen the files on the Hulk?” Steve turned to ask and you nodded.

“Right, well Bruce used to have a really hard time controlling him. After Ultron, he took off. We hope that he’s doing better and that he’ll return someday… but after that there’s Tony Stark, Iron Man.” you winced.

“Are you sure it’ll be ok with him for me to come live with you all?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve just shook his head.

“You don’t have to worry about Tony. I made sure he saw your progress reports with Shuri before you even left Wakanda. Tony is very critical, but he’s not as much of an asshole as he makes himself out to be. He knows that you were successfully deprogrammed by Shuri and that you’re making a lot of progress, but not as much as you’d like. If he does anything that makes you really uncomfortable, if anyone on the team does, I want you to know you can come tell me. Not just as your Captain, but as your friend. We’re all here for you Snow Fox.” Steve turned to smile warmly at you and you offered a small smile back.

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we touch down at the compound. Any other questions before we land?” Steve asked.

You just shook your head.

“No, I am alright. I am mostly just nervous. I… I just really want to make a good impression I guess.” you bit out, picking at the skin around your nails since Shuri had worked so painstakingly last night to paint them to perfection for your first day with the Avengers.

Steve just smiled and reached a hand behind himself to pat your knee.

“Look, I promise that everyone will be thrilled to meet you. Sam’s been compiling movies for us to watch, Nat and Wanda are just happy there’s going to be another girl around the compound, and Tony might be a hard ass but I know once he meets you he’s gonna love you.”

You took in a deep breath, rubbing your knee where you could still feel the warmth from Steve’s hand.

“And Bucky?” you asked nervously. You hadn’t had the courage to bring him up until now.

Steve inhaled sharply, taking a moment to consider his next words carefully.

“Bucky is… complicated. I know you guys had a fight before we left. He wouldn’t tell me what about, but he’s requested some solo missions to hunt down a few Hydra stragglers so he’s not actually home at the compound right now. Do you.. If you want I mean- do you wanna talk about it at all?” Steve asked, his hand coming up to awkwardly scratch at his neck.

You huffed and smiled to yourself.

“Not at all, but thank you for offering.”

“Look I know it isn’t my place, but he really does care. Bucky has always been a “Mother Hen” if you will, he’s always been a protector. He had me, and a baby sister back before the war, and I’m sure he told you all the trouble we got ourselves into back then. He’s always been the man to protect his family, even if he maybe says some dumb stuff sometimes. I don’t know the details of your fight and I won’t push it if it makes you uncomfortable, but I do know that Bucky cares about you more than I’ve seen him care about something in a long time and I hope that when he gets back the two of you can work things out.” Steve turned again, offering you a hesitant smile.

You did your best to return it as you looked out the window of the jet.

“So, what kind of music have you been listening to this week?” Steve asked lightly and you sighed, grateful for the change in subject.

Steve reached a cord over to you and you beamed, recognizing the correct input to connect to your music device. Steve caught your smile and beamed right back as you went through your recently played songs.

“Well, Shuri and I have been listening to a new artist this week, his name is Stevie Wonder.”

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

hunting the fates || three

Summary: When the repercussions of giving up your Immortality come back to haunt you, a journey to Hell seems to be the only solution. With the help of your friends, both old and new, you set out on a journey to destroy the three Fates who have messed with your life long enough. There you discover that your power extends further than you ever thought possible, as does the Winter Soldier’s.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (Fem) POC Enhanced Reader; Sam Wilson x Female Original Character

Trope(s): Fantasy/Mythology/Horror; Soulmates/Mates; Angst/Fluff/Smut; Bisexual! Bucky Barnes; Multiple POV’s

Based on the Song(s): ‘Power’ by Isak Danielson ; ‘Breakfast’ by Dove Cameron ; ‘Darkside’ by Neoni ; ‘Bow - Slowed’ by Reyn Hartley

AO3 Link

Warnings: strong language; mention of infertility; sword fighting; canon-level violence; Spider-Man: No Way Home spoilers; magic; inaccurate Greek Mythology

Word Count: 8,500+

Author’s Note: No, Hades is not trying to steal the Reader away from Bucky. He’s just a flirty sonovabitch. But wink-wink anyways. Sorry for the late update, I just started graduate school. xxMoni

Elva Bloodwing had two goals for the end of this week: One, to make sure her new trainees knew how to handle a sword. Two, to wring in her prejudices about humans.

Yet, this might be the most insane, disruptive, and weird group of humans she’s ever agreed to train. So goal number two was looking pretty bleak.

The Birdling had been first to arrive, wiping the sleep from his eyelids as he entered the room. He had greeted her with a kind smile, honorably gap-toothed and scarily genuine. Elva had not returned it, no matter the odd night before. He had immediately scoped out the weapons hanging from the black marble walls, marveling at the sharpest of them. She told him to start with the wooden swords that were stored in the kid’s section—she had told him to pick up a shield as well. The Birdling followed her orders, seemingly happy to do so, and commented something about holding a shield for the first time and not needing to throw it.

She did not laugh.

This was a training session—not a meeting to make friends. They were going to kill some sleazy, old bitches together. That was that.

The gorgeous one, as Wenrel liked to call him, arrived second. He also looked sleepy, his long hair up in a messy bun but with strands still dangling down his cheeks. He had greeted the Birdling and teased about the wooden sword. His mouth instantly shut when he reached for the steel, the sudden weight smashing the tip to the floor, ringing loudly. He apologized, and Elva simply pointed at the wooden weapons again.

It was the gorgeous soldier who showed grace with the footwork before the third human passed through the door. A sophisticated dance, born to hold a sword in his palm—or a weapon in general. Elva watched the soldier glide through his own routine, like a figure skater on ice, and the Birdling copied.

That was the moment Elva had dumbly believed this session would run smoothly. The Birdling absorbed information easily, the soldier had a background in combat training, and they seemed to work very well together—

The Goddess walked through the door, and the soldier’s attention was immediately split. Suddenly, his footwork halted. All thoughts of warming-up simply sliding from his brain. The Goddess stretched, unbothered, and the soldier ogled. The Birdling ignored—or at least, he pretended not to notice.

Funny, Elva thought. Her and the Birdling have that in common.

“That’s enough warm-ups,” Elva spoke, her voice mighty as it carried through the training facility. She was dressed in her leathers, albeit these were a navy blue and not her usual black. They allowed for great flexibility and were water resistant. On the outside. Very helpful if she fell into water—not very effective when sweating like a pig.

“I will walk you through the simple techniques of holding our weapons. Then show you how to cross blades, and avoid them.”

“Are guns not common in Hell?” the gorgeous soldier asked.

She tilted her head at him. “If your war weapons do not injure a space alien, do you think they would hurt an Immortal being?”

He blushed, the pink of his cheeks spreading to the collar of his neck. He and the others were dressed in the clothes provided: training sweatpants and loose tanks. All black.

“Fight me,” Elva continued, backing away several steps as she braced her hands in front of herself. The soldier’s eyes widened, before he stepped forward too.

“Are we holding back or are we serious?”

Elva grinned, teeth and all. “Serious as Pandora’s curiosity.”

She threw the first punch, excited when he easily dodged it. His smile was a beautiful one, one that had the ability to brighten the darkest depths of Poseidon’s seas. A guiding light.

She wanted to punch it good and well, because such beautiful things should not exist in Hell.

She and the soldier danced, tripped, twirled, and drew blood for a full five minutes. Neither of them backed down, neither of them seriously hurt. The soldier still retained his god-like abilities in this realm. It was a part of his blood after all. But she could have sworn his sweat was unlike the others. Where it should have remained, it vanished. And where it stained his shirt, it did not dry.

“Take him down!” the Birdling cried from the sidelines, hanging off the Goddess’s shoulder. The Goddess simply held him up, like this was a regular occurrence, smiling all the same. Who would support their significant other being “taken down”? Was this a joke to her? Or was she so dense—

The soldier knocked one straight and center into her nose, cutting off her air supply for a strange second. Her eyes flashed with anger before the heat quelled. The blood halted, only reaching her top lip, before she rolled her neck and concentrated. Concentrated hard as the blood rose back into her nostrils, a slow crawl, and reentered her system.

“Thought you said you couldn’t wield your powers for seven hundred years?” the Birdling said, crossing his arms as he stared her down. She rubbed at her nose absentmindedly, then looked to the soldier, who was too distracted by his momentary win and the Goddess fucking blinking to notice her arm reach forward.

She twisted him underneath her arm, locking him tight. Twisting herself, Elva bent her knees and clenched her stomach, then hauled the soldier over her shoulders and onto the mat. He made a horrible splattering sound, groaning in pain when he moved his first muscle.

Elva placed her hands on her hips, looking over at the Birdling with a satisfied expression. “I cannot wield my true power. But I can still control my own blood.”

The soldier looked up at her, his hair now pulled from the hair tie, his stare hard. Not in a mean way, not even in threatening promise. He simply stared into her red eyes as a small crease between his eyebrows began to take form.

Later, after they’ve worked through some footwork and defense maneuvers, Elva judged them individually. She had to give the Goddess some credit—her past training must have included some form of meditation technique or patience. Like an archer readying their bow. Swift and ancient.

Perhaps a bow and arrow would better suit her.

Elva stepped behind the Birdling, counting his steps, studying his roundabouts and the shapes his pointed toes made. He kept missing the sixth and fumbling the eighth.

“Birdling, no,” she grunted, taking his shield from him. He was more than happy to be ridden of the wooden atrocity. “Don’t worry about this damned thing. It was for stability and familiarity. But that won’t matter if you cannot walk.”

“I’m doing the footwork I learned in the Air Force, when boxing. You’re telling me I’ve been doing it wrong all these years?”

Elva shook her head. “Not wrong. You are just doing another dance that does not require you to hold a sword. You must change that dance."

The Birdling huffed, stretching out his neck. “Then I am your loyal student. Teach me. Please.”

“I have been teaching you. You have not been listening apparently.”

The left side of his mouth twitched, then spread into a full-blown smile. Elva tried to push down the odd feeling of melting warmth inside her abdomen, frightened in herself that she could even feel such a reaction. Was her blood acting up? Did Hades need to make her that tea again?

The two others in the room had stopped running through Elva’s routine. They were straining their ears, so obviously, two peas in a pod. Did the Birdling not receive privacy from them?

No more questions. She had a job to do.

Elva ran them all through the steps again, but added words and rhythm. She had always been a more hands-on learner, but she worked well with visuals too. But it seemed not all people learned the same way. Everybody had their strengths. She incorporated some auditory steps, let them watch her, and even used the Goddess as a partner when she slow-motioned her way through fake battle.

The Birdling worked well with hearing. He no longer missed the sixth step and would have to work on balancing his own weight with a sword in the future. The whole session was two hours and Elva only let them stop because the soldier’s stomach had roared so loudly the Goddess almost burst a lung from laughing so hard.

In the kitchens, Elva ignored the servants as she walked through and began rearranging her plate. She sees them everyday, they know her and she knows them, and introductions weren’t necessary. That didn’t stop the Goddess and the Birdling from greeting every soul they passed.

That’s it. She related more to the soldier. At least he had the good sense to keep his hands to himself and just nod.

As if reading her mind, the soldier strolled up alongside her and grabbed a plate for himself. They moved down the counter together, holding their plates out as they were loaded with eggs, sausages, and strawberry tarts. He didn’t speak until his coffee cup was filled and placed carefully on the table Elva decided to sit down at.

“So, the Fates…What are they hiding up their sleeves? Should we be prepared for iron nails or eyeballs that shoot lasers?”

Elva squinted at the soldier, frowning when he took a seat directly in front of her. “What odd things you say.”

The soldier blushed—even redder than this morning—and shrugged a broad shoulder. “You might live with demons and Gods, but I’ve seen my fair share of aliens and Nazis.”

Elva scrunched her nose. “I hate Nazis.”

“Oh, that’s good, I was worried there for a second.”

Her red eyes snapped up, holding his stare. “Your sarcasm is not your best trait.”

The soldier waved a hand while bringing his coffee to his lips with the other. “My best trait is inappropriate to say.”

“Neither is your humor, I see.”

His shoulders slumped. Sheepishly, and with a little bit of that godsforsaken sarcasm, he said, “Mm, I see. I’ll try harder, I promise.”

Elva moved the food around on her plate, taking small bites whenever she felt like it. She glanced up to see the soldier scanning the room, his mind alert. She followed his gaze and saw the Goddess sitting with the Birdling, chatting with a couple of servants and making them laugh. Like the mere fact he had his eyes on her quelled whatever worry his chest was most likely pounding with.

“Do you want to know what Hades did and still does to Nazis?”

The soldier’s gaze instantly snapped to her face. He didn’t speak, but there was something in his eyes that told her she should continue. “Hades is a kind God. He shows a lot of mercy. He did not create this place or the three levels. He is not the first and he is not the last. But he was Hades during your World War.”

The soldier wrapped both his hands, flesh and metal, around his mug. Elva continued, “He brought them in as a group and told them they had two choices. One, to venture to Tartarus and burn for all eternity. Or two, to say they were sorry.”

“What? How could he just forgive—”

“Every single one of them said they were sorry. And Hades told them that words were not currency. That they were cowards for what they did and for not admitting to it after death. He stripped them of their name, of their memories except for the atrocities they did. Stripped them of their prejudices, of their hatred, of everything that once made them human. He made them burn in Hell with only the memories of what had been done. Not the why, just the horror.”

The soldier swallowed his coffee a bit too loudly, but he urged her to finish. So she did, smiling a little as she neared her favorite part. “They cannot sleep or eat or bathe. They do not know love or calm or reason. All they know is blood and death. It is making them go mad. The greatest torture is to rip out someone's heart. That’s where your humanity lies, no? You can argue and say these villains had no heart at all, but they did. It beat and it bled and they still went against its purpose.”

She thinks he’s going to ask her a million more questions, but he simply nods and stands. She doesn’t know if she’s angered him or answered his original question. Still, Elva can’t help but feel the slightest bit guilty, shameful that she ruined his breakfast.

But he smirked at her, grabbing the last strawberry tart on his plate to go. “So the presence of a heart doesn’t always guarantee goodness, huh?”

Elva shook her head, and bit into her toast. “The absence of one doesn’t always guarantee evil either.”

He nodded again, as if digesting the words. “Enjoy your breakfast, Elva. Thank you for training this morning.”

Before he could leave her, Elva reached out to grip his wrist. The soldier startled, looking from her to their point of contact. No doubt debating whether to pry her off. She does it for him, and cursed inwardly that she forgot his aversion to touch. “Those villains wanted you to reject your humanity, Bucky. The Fates wanted that. They wanted that of me, too.”

The soldier, Bucky, seemed to realize that she had finally said his name this morning. That their squabble last night, his prejudices against her that seemed to have died in his sleep, did not matter anymore.

They had a common enemy and Bucky Barnes was a person who would fight by his foe’s side if it meant peace and tranquility for those he cared for.

It had only been a day.

One day and you were certain you were going to go mad. There was a difference between being locked up without consent and being trapped with consent. At least when it’s against your will there’s this adrenaline rush that propels you to find a way out faster. When you’re trapped because of your need for revenge, that adrenaline is limited. It sits, and sits, and sits and it will most likely burst when the action occurs.

You feel like you’re about to burst out of your skin, for no reason, but your body is holding you back.

Making small talk with everyone you saw after training was intense—you wanted to be nice, and it came off as fake. Not that anyone noticed. And that made you feel like shit.

The Underworld was a palace full of talkative, energetic souls and visitors that defied most of its legendary attributes. It looked like a thing of legend, but did not compare to the stories of fire and brimstone. There were no souls screaming for help—unless you ventured to Tartarus, which you weren’t ever planning to do—in fact, most souls you’ve encountered have been happy.

Happy.

Was this where Ari’s soul ventured? After he took your immortality, he mentioned wandering with purpose. Direction. Did he get a choice in where he wandered? Was his vision of an afterlife real for him?

Either way, you were tired. Tired from training, tired from faking smiles, tired from pretending this was normal. All you wanted to do was kill the three Fate bitches and get it over with. No training, no backgrounds—just cold-blooded unaliving.

“Elva said you moved like leaves in the wind today.”

“Oh my—!” You stumbled from the bed with your hand clutched to your chest, heart pounding underneath your sweaty palm. You had locked the door, had bid Sam and Bucky farewell for an afternoon nap. You didn’t expect to be woken up from the voice of Hades himself.

He smirked, his flamed blue eyes following your awkward movements. He stood casually—hands locked behind his back, silky attire draped across his broad shoulders, absent of any wrinkles. Dressed like a God. There was no other way to describe it. His aura was of casual elegance.

“What are you doing here?”

“It is my palace.”

“It is my temporary room.”

He chuckled. The rumble of death. “I am simply checking in. I will visit your friends later as well.”

“Why now? Why when I was peaceful?”

He tilted his head, that smirk stretching farther. “Do I unnerve you?”

You huffed, rubbing at your arms. This morning you had been cold—not even Bucky’s usual warmth could heat you up. In fact, it was as if Bucky was making it worse. The cardigan you wore now made you sweat, its cotton fabric suddenly suffocating.

It made sense: To feel such a wave of heat from the God of the Underworld.

“You don’t unnerve me. Women just don’t like being woken up by an unknown man’s voice.”

“We met yesterday.”

“What difference…” Your voice trailed off as you realized he was messing with you. Your nose twitched before you spread your lips into a thin line. “What do you really want?”

Hades pointed over to the vacant chair by the mirror. With more than an ounce of hesitance, you still nodded. Hades strolled to the chair, kicking its leg slightly to turn it toward you. He slumped down, hooked an ankle over a knee, and played with the red-jeweled ring on his ring finger. “Does he know?”

You squinted at him. “Does who know what?”

Hades barely pursed his lips, but the obvious expression of Really? came to life. “Does the Winter Soldier know your heart beats no more? That your immortality stayed in your heart?”

Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, you sighed as loudly as possible. You put your face in your hands. “Is that what it is? Ari took it from my magic and the Fates’ prophecy, but not my heart?”

Hades tapped his thumb and index together, thinking. “Your mate took what he could and was forced to leave it in your heart or else it would have killed you.”

Mate.

Ari was your mate.

Just hearing it confirmed made you want to sob, but nothing formed within your chest. All your grief was currently on pause—logic and reason was necessary nowadays.

“No. I have not told Bucky. Can’t he hear…or rather, not hear anything?”

Hades looked to you, to the floor, then back to you. A quick rise of his eyebrows told you he was hiding something, but that it wasn’t so drastic of a secret that it needed to be told right now. “If he focused hard enough, probably. But no heartbeat doesn’t mean you’re immortal. Doesn’t mean you're dead either. Just means you’re in limbo.”

“In life or in aging?”

Hades snorted. “Look at me, Goddess. No heartbeat, yet I can be killed by my rivals. No heartbeat, yet I yearn for my other half.”

“Your life story isn’t one I aspire to match. But I see we’re more alike after all…” You frowned at him, then moved higher up onto the bed until you were at the center of it.

A question formed at the tip of your tongue, however. A question for a question. “Do you really not know where or who your Persephone is?”

Something resembling a shiver seemed to crawl up his spine, causing him to readjust his position. “I only get glimpses. Persephone and Hades have been mates for thousands of years. My mate is out there somewhere. But for some reason, it has taken forever.”

“And forever is truly endless for an immortal,” you lamented, meeting his eyes with more sympathy now. “What do you see? Have you seen her face?”

Hades shook his head. “Orange. Lots and lots of orange. Fruit, hair, t-shirts. One time I even saw some yellow.”

You couldn’t help but grin, chuckling through your teeth. “Vague.”

“Very.” He stared at you for a few more seconds, his mouth parted around an invisible word. But he simply stood, smoothing his vest. “I only meant to check in. Elva has been collecting reports from the guards. We will find the Fates soon. Then you three will be off to the human lands.”

“Wha—“ You scrambled off the bed, rage building. “You promised to look into my infertility.”

“Yes. I did.” Hades blinked, unmoved. “I am expecting that answer any day now from Maxwell.”

“Don’t fuck me over.”

Hades paused, his stature seemingly growing—small inches mimicking miles. His shoulders loosened, his fingers dangled beautifully, and his breath steadied. Steadied like he had perfected such a mode over his thousand year reign. A God built for darkness and muted evil.

Hades reached a hand forward, gripping your chin. You did not startle, nor did you feel fear. Greenery existed in the Underworld, apparently. You’re sure you could have them smash through the walls and into his chest in a matter of seconds.

He tilted your head up so you were staring directly into his blue eyes. Blue eyes that combined flame and shadow. “I keep my promises, Goddess. I keep them so well that I don’t have to repeat them. They are guaranteed.”

You reached up and gripped his wrist, smiling at him. “That’s good to hear. But if you ever touch me without permission again, I will harvest your damned soul in one of those narcissus flowers your mate loves so much.”

Something flickered across his beautiful face—anger, surprise, respect—it was not identifiable. But he let you go, interlocking his hands behind his back, and bowed slightly at the hips. “My mistake.”

But you couldn’t just let him leave. Not when you still had so many questions. Does Elva need help locating the Fates? Can the guards be trusted? Are there any live souls down here? Where is the entrance? Is this the main afterlife?

“Is Ari here?”

Hades turned again. One eyebrow raised, he asked, “Do you think he’s here?”

“No.”

He hummed lowly. “Then why ask?”

“Because…” Something resembling a whimper formed in your chest, but you pushed it down. Down into your stomach where the acid would burn it. “Because I just had to know.”

He nodded, understanding. “His soul can be accessed. It won’t be him physically, but it is him. The Offering Room…You can visit and pray to him there.”

That was more than enough. The funeral had been six months ago and you were grieving too much to speak your prayers. Maybe now was that time.

“Thank you.”

His lips twitched at the sides. “I still speak to my mother. Besides the gardens, it’s my favorite place.”

The two of you could tell that too much had been shared already. That even if he was a God and you a Goddess, there wasn’t much else to speak about right now. Especially alone—any answers you seeked were answers Sam and Bucky wanted, needed, to have as well.

Hades finally took his leave without so much as a wave goodbye.

Peter Parker wished he paid more attention to you and that weird Eternal because he could really use some summoning expertise right about now. Smacking pans together and dialing long distance numbers just wasn’t working like he thought it would.

It’s been a week. A whole week and his friends have not come home.

All is okay, all is dandy. Peter’s freaking the fuck out on the inside, but he can power through. He’s been through worse.

But rent is due in three days and he doesn’t have Sam’s banking passwords. And he’s broke. So either Peter Parker sits on his ass and faces the landlord when he inevitably comes pounding, or he can do something about it.

“C’mon, you big, blond hunk of a Viking—Answer!” Peter yelled at the roof, waving around a wad of herbs he had found in your closet. Nothing in your apartment gave him any answers either. Date, phone call, and then no one returned to either apartment that night—that’s all Peter’s come up with. He’s checked Sam’s camera footage, checked Bucky’s traps he thinks no one knows about, and has swept the apartment vents like an actual fucking spider.

He has learned nothing and seen too much.

Peter huffed, snuffing the small flame out on the herbs before throwing it across the room. This was hopeless. Bucky had his phone so Peter couldn’t exactly call up the God like he had done in Iceland. The only other person he thinks about calling is Druig, but that motherfucker doesn’t have a phone and Peter’s not about to dredge through the Amazon to find him.

Standing for a few more awkward seconds in the middle of the living room, Peter decided it was time to venture to a place he swore he wouldn’t go back to. He does not want to see the wizard—he’d rather spring off the Empire State without his webs than go and see him after what happened a few months ago.

But if he could just explain himself better, maybe bring some tangible evidence this time, then maybe Dr. Strange will entertain him for more than a few seconds before turning his attention back to whatever alien species needed to be transported off Earth that day.

“I work and I work,” Peter mumbled, arranging a last-minute bag. “And what do I get from it? No old friends and now, no new friends. Did I piss off the Gods? Did I piss off God? Who the fuck knows, certainly not me—”

A knock on the door.

Peter practically stumbled across the living room before he halted, sudden flashes of an old white man with bulky glasses and stained sweats demanding his rent pop into his mind. He listened hard, caught no old man scent—

But it is a familiar scent. So familiar he wondered if the sweatshirt in his bag had somehow teleported to the hallway when he wasn’t looking. A scent that he misses, a scent he would fight the world again for, again and again.

He ripped the door open as casually as he could, trying hard to steady his breath. But that proved impossible as he discovered her standing there: curly hair dried at the split ends, black-on-black attire, that black dahlia necklace hanging between her breasts.

MJ was here. At his apartment.

MJ. Is. Here.

“Hi.” That's all that came out. All his lungs could push upward.

MJ smiles. That wonderful smile that used to (and still does) send bolts of lightning through his spider veins. “I have literally tried every apartment building in Queens. Do you know how many knocks that is?”

She was looking for him? “I—You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, duh. But you didn’t exactly tell me much, other than I live in Queens and My name is Peter Parker.”

“What…Why did you need to find me? Did something happen?” He found himself scanning her, checking for blood or visible broken bones. MJ shivered from his gaze, and he forced himself to look back up at her face, to focus on the beauty of that perfectly curved upper lip.

“Well, yes and no. Not to me, persay. I was just there when it happened and behold! I knew the name that woman screamed out.”

“Someone…Screamed my name?”

“Oh my god, yes. I just said that. Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Peter blinked, then blinked some more. He was certain a whole hour had passed before his body moved him out of the way, before he allowed MJ through and offered her a bottle of water. He watched her sit down. Watched her pull her hair into a ponytail. Watched her scrunch up her nose as she watched the rain tumble from outside and slap against the windows. Watched her agree to a cup of hot chocolate as she sipped her water. Watched her sit at one of the barstools as he made the drink.

“Are you some sort of superhero?”

Peter cringed. He busied himself with watching the boiling milk, weighing the pros and cons of telling her the truth or not. And so what if he did? Dr. Strange hadn’t told him he couldn’t start the roster all over again. He had every right to do so.

“I’m Spider-Man.”

MJ’s tapping fingers stopped mid-air, her expression rounding into an amused glare. “You’re fucking with me.”

Peter sighed and shot a web into a corner of the room, all without even looking away from the boiling milk. He grabbed the dark chocolate bars and sank them into the pot.

MJ cleared her throat, her mouth snapping shut. Then, because she’s MJ and he knows her like he knows the sun rises in the east, she burst out laughing.

Joyous, clear laughter.

“Which mug do you want?”

“What!” MJ sat wide-eyed, her laughter now short bursts of innocent delight. “You’re just going to shoot that liquid across the room and not say anything else about it?”

“It’s not a liquid.”

“Semantics. You’re freaking Spider-Man!”

“Louder. I don’t think my landlord heard you.”

She waved a casual hand through the air. “No wonder that woman screamed for you! You could actually help them do something!”

“Who screamed my name?” He poured the brown milk the best he could without spilling it over the rims. He knew the answer before she even said it.

He handed her the drink as she answered, “The woman dating the Winter Soldier. Captain America was there, too.”

His heart plummeted. “What happened to them?”

Because he would have heard if they had been slain. He would have been contacted by Sam’s assistant, Margot, about his possible passing. The apartment would be listed and he’d be kicked out before he could even explain how Sam had promised him a room for life.

“Sucked into a portal to Hell from what I saw.”

His heart plummeted some more, turning to dust like it had six years ago. “Tell me everything.”

MJ looked up at him, her soft lips sipping from the mug. Then she gave him a salute, face going deathly serious, before she explained everything, every detail, like Peter had physically been there himself.

“Elva invited me to the Guard Briefing. Thought you might want to join us.”

Bucky side-eyed Sam, popping a cherry into his mouth as he lounged on Sam’s temporary king-sized masterpiece of a bed. Why was he only given a queen?

“Oh, you’re inviting me on this little rendezvous now?”

Sam sent him a similar playful glare. “I don’t want to go toe to toe with the Winter Soldier’s wrath, so yeah.”

“The Winter Soldier is on vacation at the moment. You’ll get full Bucky Barnes wrath if you exclude me again.”

Sam laughed. “Got it. When I’m planning to engage in dumbassery, I should call you always to see if you want to join.”

“Now you’re starting to understand our relationship.”

Sam laughed again, popping a cherry from his own bowl into his mouth. He kicked his feet up onto a nearby stool. “The faster we find those witches, the faster we get to go home. How much time do you even think has passed?”

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. Sam had sent his letter to Sarah out this morning, explaining their predicament and how they were planning on leaving as soon as possible—except Sam didn’t exactly mention they were trapped in Hell. The literal Underworld. Sam had simply called it “limbo”.

Like Sarah would ever believe that. But Sam did write and advise her to keep track of time there, to monitor the effects of their absence and notify the proper people. Sarah had Bruce Banner’s, Clint Barton’s, and Wanda Maximoff’s numbers. Bucky hoped Sarah didn’t try to contact Wanda, though. She had destroyed Kamar-Taj and basically whipped Doctor Strange’s ass last month.

Her help probably wouldn’t be the best option. Plus, no one knew where she was.

“Honestly,” Bucky continued to ponder. “Maybe a month?”

“Pfft. Don’t be so damn optimistic,” Sam teased, sarcasm drenched over every syllable.

“A week, then.”

“Two tops.” This Bucky could agree with.

A small knock sounded on the door. With a noise of approval, the door creaked open to reveal the loveliest shade of forest green Bucky had ever seen. So you had caved and opened that closet in your room.

The dress hugged you tightly around the waist but was otherwise loose on the sleeves and skirt. A soft, cotton fabric that reached mid-shin and billowed lightly at the ends. You had kept your heeled boots, however, but it only enhanced the outfit’s overall look.

“Hello, our medieval princess! To what do we owe the pleasure?” Sam beamed, chewing on another cherry.

You rolled your eyes. You made your way over to where Bucky was sitting, plopping down on his lap and kissing his cheek in greeting. Sam groaned underneath his breath, and Bucky felt all-powerful.

“I’ve come to see if you two would like to join me in the Offering Room. Hades said it was a way to…speak with souls who have passed.”

Bucky’s fingers fidgeted around your waist. “Like…Talk-talk?”

You shook your head. “No. But the soul is there, I think. That’s what he explained.”

Bucky scrunched his nose a little, trying hard not to show his distaste. It’s not that he didn’t want to join you—to be honest, fuck Sam and his rendezvous adventures. Let the fucker be eaten by a demon. Bucky wanted to spend some time with you. But going to a place where he would only be hounded by the fact that Steve was somewhere, wasn’t exactly tempting.

“Is it okay if I pass?”

You blinked at him, surprise in your irises. “Yes, it’s okay. I was not forcing you.”

Bucky’s lip twitched, rising higher on the right side. “I know you weren’t, but it’s just…I said my goodbyes. I don’t want to do it again.”

“I completely understand.”

“But do you need someone there with you? Do you want support?”

You smiled down at him. That smile that always made his chest glow from the inside-out. “I think I’ll be fine. But meet me afterward? In my room?”

“Ew,” Sam mumbled from across the room. He was searching the closets for a suitable shirt for the briefing. “I’m so glad our rooms are soundproof.”

“Not good,” you replied. “If we’re being stabbed to death, you won’t be able to hear the screams.”

Sam grimaced. “Damn, Shortcake. Straight to it.”

You stood from Bucky’s lap, the cold air immediately hitting him. Just yesterday, you two had been on your first date in six months. Now, you’re both acting as if being sucked into Hell was just a roadblock. An insignificant obstacle that had a simple solution. Tell 1940s Bucky he’d be making deals with the literal Devil and fighting non-human entities, and he would have laughed so hard a lung would have popped.

Maybe this Guard Briefing would go well. Maybe they have located all three Fates and killing them would be a piece of cake. Maybe Bucky’s life and all those scattered puzzle pieces would finally stick and form a clear picture. One that allowed Bucky to put the Winter Soldier behind him, the Avengers behind him, and only focus on you and Sam.

But just like in the “human-lands”, Sam was Captain America. Sam was going to get answers because you and Bucky were his unit, his team, and Sam was your leader. If that meant going to Underworld briefings and following a dangerous, red-eyed woman around the palace, then so be it.

“Sam and I are going to join Elva and the guards. I’ll meet you in about two hours.”

You nodded at him, sweeping down to plant a quick kiss to lips. A kiss that had him wanting more. But Bucky reined it in, quelling that feeling until it was appropriate. You seemed to notice though, because the tiny snort you accidentally released was completely at his expense.

After you left, Bucky watched Sam contemplate the combination of a black undershirt and navy blue pants.

“Automatic no,” Bucky pressed, grabbing a long-sleeved, black undershirt for himself. He slipped it on, careful to not tear the fabric across the left arm. His care was short-lived however when Sam simply reached forward and tugged at the sleeve, ripping it off completely.

“There.” Sam smiled, pulling out two extravagant vests and coats. Black with gold embroidery, and definitely something Bucky’s only seen described in fantasy novels. “Now you’re good.”

Bucky grumbled. He opted to leave his long hair down—as much as he wanted to leave behind that Winter Soldier look, he had to admit it made him look authoritative. And dominant.

“They better have some answers,” Sam said, pulling on his own vest. It stretched across the expanse of his chest, the buttons somewhat strained but capable. “Or else I’m going to get pissed.”

Two servants guided you to the Offering Room, their heads bowed in silence and hands interlocked in front of themselves. You did your best to minimize the sound of your heeled boots on the stone floor, even keeping your breathing to a minimum. The servants seemed to float effortlessly.

You brought some orange slices in a bowl that you had been allowed to cut up yourself. You had mentioned how you could simply just grow the fruit, but they refused. Something about the specific fruit they gave you having been blessed already.

The servants left you alone, bowing their heads in silent goodbye. Good, because now you were able to truly marvel at what was before you.

Floor to ceiling glimmers of light, sparkling then dying out, flashing from one side to another then back and forth. The two walls to your sides were the same—a whole universe of light, enveloping you. The wall wasn’t entirely black. The base color was more silver, then ocean blue, then death’s night. And the lights were opal, pink, purple, and gold. Stars that made an appearance for a few seconds, then vanished.

You placed the bowl of oranges at the altar. Your heart leapt from all the other baskets and flowers surrounding the altar, all remnants of love, grief, and joy. Your heels clacked as you walked around, watching every soul jump and bounce, every soul a thousand, a million, a second year old. The Underworld’s treasures.

On the ceiling, water dripped onto and over the rocky surface, cascading like a waterfall. Some parts were missed, while others were hit and soaked. The bottom corners of each wall had vines growing upward, flowers full and vibrant as they tried and failed to latch onto the walls. There was no wind in the room, but something seemed to blow a soft breeze, an encouragement for each desperate petal.

You waved a wrist, turning your fingers slightly, and watched as your magic aided the first of many flowers. The vines remained the same length, but the flowers opened up more. Petals turned and glued themselves into the walls, pollen dancing from their centers and into the air. The souls within the walls shimmered all at once, overjoyed. Stars embraced by current life.

“Ari…”

The shimmering halted for a moment, the room turning darker. Your worry was short-lived, however, when a single light shone from your left. Gold. Blinking. Directly beside the raining water from the ceiling.

You raised a hand up, hovering your fingers, feeling the vibrations sink into your skin and along your veins. Pure. “Guess what I’ve been up to?”

The light blinked excitedly, hopping around in a little circle. You giggled, holding back happy tears. “Bucky is treating me well. Very well. You would have really liked him.” The light blinks twice in response.

As you take a pause, simply marveling at its brightness, you felt deep down inside, in the marrow of your bones, that you were speaking to Ari. Somewhere out there, Ari has paused because of this feeling. He had been wandering, then he wasn’t, and now he’s suspended in time and space with you. Accepting the offering, leaning against a tree bark or something, closing his eyes and envisioning you. It’s him, yet, it’s not. He’s here, yet, the universe has created a boundary. A boundary that can no longer be crossed.

“I’ve learned how to paint. Paint by numbers, but it’s something. Remember how you were the one to paint the pottery with the women, and how they would kick you out whenever you showed them up?” you chuckled, still hovering over the golden light. “I hope you’re okay. And you might not agree with what I’m planning to do, but it’s something I want to do.”

The golden light blinked once, as if saying No, I don’t agree, but it stayed. It stayed and glowed deeper, pulsing, until it faded. Fading back into the wondrous display of a thousand souls.

“If we just look across the Styx—”

“You mean if we look in the human world?” Maxwell laughed. “I know I let a demon out and I take full responsibility, but trust me. If a Fate bitch was on a beach in Cancun, I would know. Dr. Strange and his band of misfits would know.”

The guard, a stocky fellow of middle authority, snarled at him. Maxwell has dealt with these assholes for over two-hundred years—one snarl doesn’t bother him. But the fact that they were actually thinking about infiltrating Earth because they think the first Fate somehow ventured across the godsdamned Styx…

“Even then,” Hades added from across the long table, seemingly undisturbed. “Charon has no time on his hands. I will not have him row you to the other side just because of a guess.”

The guard grumbled, but took a seat. Maxwell didn’t try to hide his smirk. He turned to Sam and Bucky, two silent soldiers of their own making, standing near the entrance. Or exit, however one calls it. They hadn’t spoken much, only Sam when it came down to strategizing.

“Charon is your loyal servant, Hades. He would not have granted passage to any of the Fates.” That was the voice of the boorish and nasty Arc Kane, one of the few guards Hades enlisted on pure strength alone. “I say we travel to Tartarus. We know their parents reside there. Nyx resides there.”

So far, he was making sense. The Fates, surprisingly enough, adored their parents. Nyx, especially. But Nyx was only in Tartarus when Hemera wasn’t, so the idea wasn’t strong.

“You know only Atropos would be stupid enough to go there. Clotho and Lachesis are scared mice who scattered, but most likely scattered close by. Going after Atropos first would reduce our forces and put us at an even greater risk physically. She’s the most powerful, Kane. You do not go for the big one before the war even starts.” Elva’s speech silenced the whole room. Hades’s smile pulled higher on the left side, and the look of pure pride was evident. Of course Hades was thinking the same thing. But he was the type of God who sat back, relaxed, and let the film roll.

“What is it, Elva? Feeling emasculated because you can’t churn their blood and have to fight with your hands now?”

Maxwell slowly turned his head to Kane, his mouth splitting into a wide smile. He didn’t say anything—Elva could speak for herself. But he did want Kane to see the pure glee he was rightfully feeling.

Elva leapt across the table, papers and leftover glasses of wine toppling as her weight shook the wood. She threw herself into Kane, knocking him off his feet and onto the floor. There they rolled, punches thrown and lips cut until Elva took a hold of her hidden dagger, slicing at his cheek until his blood coated her hand. The other guards merely watched, as did Hades.

It was routine. Maxwell knew this. Sam and Bucky didn’t.

As the blood became more noticeable then the guards moved. Elva was ripped from Kane. The force of such a tug sent her flying across the room, right into Sam. He caught her the best he could, slamming into the wall behind him. Bucky steadied her by the arms, anger turning his light blue eyes as dark as the marble doors. Maxwell took a seat, just as unbothered as Hades.

“No,” Elva finally spit. She locked eyes with Kane, who was being helped up, her glare one of absolute malice. She raised her dagger to her mouth and licked the blade clean. “But I can still drink it.”

Everyone, including Sam and Bucky, shuddered. Maxwell had seen Elva go feral before—a beautiful, golden vampire-witch who drained every last drop just for fun.

“Until we have definitive proof that Atropos might be residing in Tartartus,” Hades called from across the long table. Maxwell turned to him. “I will not send my guards to investigate. Only I can make the trip under the guise of official business. I will tell you all what I gain from that visit next week. Dismissed.”

The guards, including Kane, obliged. Kane, however, exited with a scowl thrown over a shoulder, directed mainly at Elva.

“That was entertaining,” Hades teased, standing. His full height always intimidated Maxwell. A giant sure to trick you of the measure of his true strength. “But I need them to want to fight alongside you. Not against you.”

Elva huffed, pushing away Sam’s arms. He backed away, blushing slightly. “He angers me.”

Hades snorted, “Kane angers everyone. But from what I understood from the beginning of the briefing—our two lowly sisters are somewhere near. Hiding, like cowards.”

“Can’t you feel them out?” Sam asked.

“I don’t feel them out. They’re their own beings. I am not connected to them.”

Maxwell could tell they were getting annoyed. Hades wasn’t trying to seem like an asshole…He just always came off as one.

“Aren’t you supposed to know everything that happens here?” Bucky deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at the God.

Hades smirked at him, looking him up and down. “Observant, Barnes. Do you feel anything?”

Bucky’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head at the God. "What do you mean?”

Maxwell knew where this was heading. But it was still too early, just as it was too early to reveal to him that he should be able to hear the Goddess’s heartbeat. Subtle hints weren’t going to break through the dense, naive heads of two humans.

Hades seemed to debate those very questions in his own head. He watched Bucky for a few awkward seconds—or at least, it was awkward for everyone else in the room. Finally, in a low voice that Hades reserved for the gentlest of souls, he said, “You are muted on Earth…”

Bucky’s face only turned with more confusion. Even Sam pursed his lips around a silent vowel.

“What do you—

A rumble caused the walls to creak. Everything halted, even their breathing. Maxwell stood slowly, his shoulders now loose but his fists locked. “What was that?”

Hades straightened, blue light now shining like a shadow behind him. Flames even torched the ends of his night-black hair.

“Do you have earthquakes in Hell?” Sam whispered, instinct making him step close to Bucky. His stance resembled that of a prepared Avenger, but there was an underlying fear in his eyes. Fear that cracked the surface when a deafening bout of laughter whipped straight passed, invisible but there. Like a gust of wind.

Maxwell’s first thought was to get to Wenrel. To guard her and keep her safe in his pocket. On his shoulder. Wherever, just so long as she was with him. Because Elysium had just been breached.

“Fuck.”

Backing away, you wondered how many times Hades has visited the Offering Room. Who he prays to besides his mother. If he has ever asked the souls to help guide him to his mate.

It’s a shame Bucky didn’t want to join you. But it makes sense—he has already said goodbye to Steve Rogers. He had buried Steve, visited his grave, said his peace. Speaking to him again would just reopen old wounds when he’s been working so hard to keep them sealed. Friends, humanitarian work, reading, knitting—collective balms that kept his mind occupied, that relaxed his nerves and gave him a reason to wake up the next day. That distracted him from the urge to drink. The wine in Hell held no ability to intoxicate—this Bucky found out last night when he had accidentally sipped from a glass in an effort to remain casual and steady when he met the dark God.

But the Offering Room suddenly went dark again, as if reading your mind. To your right, in a glorious display of blue light that was almost white, beamed a soul. Walking slowly, cautiously, you raised a hand to its radiating heat. It pulsed, then pulsed again, breezy across the hair of your arms. In a low whisper, as if scared someone might overhear, you asked, “Are you Steve Rogers?”

The light danced in a similar circle Ari’s soul drew. Not quite as excited as your mate, but happy nonetheless. “And are you okay?”

The white light flashed twice. A yes, apparently. “I hope you’re resting. I feel like it would be inappropriate to speak of much else, you and me.”

It danced again.

Duh.

A sense of humor, this one. “Thank you for drawing Ari for me all those years ago.” Another dance. "And yes…Bucky’s okay, too.”

It stilled, shining bright, then pulsed strong enough you felt the heat beneath your feet. Yes.

The light diminished, then joined the beautiful chaos once again. You released a heavy sigh, backing away from the wall. Visiting two souls seemed to drain your energy. Your legs felt heavy and your arms were tired from being raised for so long. A long night’s sleep was the best option right about now.

You turned to walk out the Offering Room, tired but glad you came, when a rumble unlike Steve’s soul shook the stone beneath your feet. A quick one, one that ended a millisecond after it started. Seconds passed before another rumble sounded, this one shaking more than just the ground. The servants threw open the black, stone doors. Fright painted across their purple skin.

You waited, not stupid enough to take another step. Suspended with one foot forward and one back. Your back heel lifted. The wall showed no disturbance luckily—the souls were safe.

But the altar.

You turned your head slowly, years of stealth molding useful for this one moment. All that was heard was the sound of your modest breathing, the sound of the servants’ jewelry clinking.

Silence.

Then the altar exploded with a battle roar, black shadows stretching and curving as they burst from the hole in the ground. You leapt as far away as you could, hands ready to rip the vines off the Offering Walls to defend yourself and the servants.

But the four figures emerged from the clouds of smoke, all with the same pale, dry skin. Eyes as dark as onyx, as large as tennis balls. A mouth with no teeth, no smile, just a foul scent that reeked of death and torture. Hands as thin as skeletons. Bouts of laughter as ear-splitting as nails on a chalkboard.

“A shame,” the demon crawling toward you purred. “You weren’t our Persephone after all.”

TAGLIST: @fandoms-writings @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @natbarnes1917 @howlermonkey69 @shirukitsune @sentimental-for-maneskin

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #dreaming in june sequel #hunting the fates series #bucky barnes smut #sam wilson x original female character #marvel fanfiction

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themorningsunshine · 2 years

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Latibule Chapter 5 - Mr Blue eyes

Series Masterlist

Summary - Latibule - A small, hiding place where a soul finds comfort and solace.

He was lost, confused, cold and hurt. But most of all, he was broken.

She was kind, friendly and the purest soul he had ever seen.

She was his latibule.

"Can't believe this." Amelia muttered to herself as she typed furiously on her laptop. It was a lazy sunday morning and the only plans she had were to spend the day lazying around the house but they were all shattered when she was reminded that the last day to file tax returns was around the corner. As tiring as it could be, she was sitting in front of her laptop for the last 2 hours.

As it came to the end, she had grown extremely impatient. If it would have shown another error once more, she swore she would have thrown the device from the nearby window. Thankfully, it didn't happen and after so many failed attempts, pulling of hair in frustration and 3 cups of coffee, it was finally successful.

She closed her eyes and leaned backwards on the chair. After some time, she slowly opened her eyes and looked through the window to the beautiful weather outside. The weather was pleasant with light winds blowing and the sunlight which gleamed for the past weak was now covered with clouds.

Amelia slowly got up and decided to take a walk outside, making a mental note to stop at the nearby store for groceries. She walked towards Bucky's room to tell him that she was going out and lightly knocked on his door, no intentions to startle him. Bucky had been here for 15 days now and things were getting better with a much higher pace since the movie marathon day. They had watched movies till 4 in the morning that day and Amelia had some great picks. She was careful enough to not put any war related movies as she knew how easy something like that could trigger PTSD.

Bucky now constantly listened to music, watched a ton load of movies with Amelia and was even starting to remember his life before the war. Amelia realized that having familiar things around him was better than telling him facts. Bucky would now randomly have flashbacks of that time, which were mostly of Steve and as soon as he did, he would rush to Amelia to tell her what he just remembered. Having somebody to talk to made it easier to place those memories and no matter how busy Amelia was, she would always give him a bright smile when he told her of an old incident and that was one of the things which kept him going.

The only thing which wasn't getting better were Bucky's nightmares. They were still harsh and Bucky would find himself waking up in the middle of the night, covered with sweat, his body tensed. He was grateful that Amelia's room was upstairs and hence, she was oblivious to his terrifying nights. Bucky was determined to keep it that way. He didn't want to disturb her sleep because of his nightmares when he knew this was a thing she couldn't help him with.

Amelia stood outside Bucky's room for a minute and still there was no response. She slowly opened the room and peeped in to find Bucky sitting on the bed, staring keenly at the Ipad. Amelia had taught him to use the device and he was indeed a fast learner. He now spent a lot of time with it when Amelia was at work. The platform called the internet had gained the attention of the supersoldier.

"Bucky?" Amelia called out softly, her voice bringing Bucky out of his thoughts. He ran his flesh hand on his face and turned towards her.

As Amelia walked closer, she realized there were tears threatning to come out of the soldier's eyes. He wasn't crying but he was grief stricken and this hurt her. "Bucky, what happened?" Her voice dripped in concern.

Bucky just shook his head and turned around. He knew he couldn't lie to her looking into her eyes. She would easily see through. "N- Nothing."

Amelia knew better. She took a step further to where he was sitting and took a glance at the Ipad. There was a picture of a house on the screen. It was an old house, not big but not very small either. It looked like the old houses back in 50s or 40s.... Realization struck Amelia as she looked from the screen to Bucky with a sympathetic gaze.

"This was my home." He whispered slowly.

Amelia gave him a sad smile sitting besides him. The slight headache though still consistent, forgotten completely.

"I - I had a sister. Rebecca."

Amelia gave him a sad smile. This was the first time Bucky had remembered something about his family except for his parent's death. She slowly brought up her hand and kept it on Bucky's, which just so happened to be the metal one.

Bucky wasn't a fan of physical contact. For him, every touch was a promise of pain, an attack but with her, it was different. Her touch was comforting and filled him with a sense of warmth. He didn't flinch away anymore even though it took weeks. In fact, if he was being honest to himself, he liked it when she held his hand. He liked it the way she wasn't scared to come near him. The way she treated his metal hand just like any other normal one.

"Bucky, if you want, we can look up for her" Amelia mentally cursed herself when she realized what she had said. Rebecca would most probably be dead by now. If she wasn't so keen in saying something comforting to Bucky right now, she would have thought twice before saying something.

" She is dead." Bucky replied. He had checked it up already.

"I am sorry."

"No, it's okay. She lived her life. Had a family and died in her 90s." Bucky took a deep breathe. "I just can't imagine how difficult it would have been for her, without our parents and me."

"I bet she was a very strong person." She remarked as she drews circles on his metal hand even though she knew he couldn't feel it.

"She was. She indeed was. Always picked up fights like Steve." Bucky shook his head as some faded memories poured in.

"And you had to step in at the end." Amelia continued as she gave him a small smile. She was more than happy that he was starting to remember.

Bucky looked out through the window as his lips curved up in a smile at the memories. "I did. Always. But instead of being grateful, they always told me they could handle it without me."

Amelia chuckled. "That's how friends are, I guess." As Bucky looked up to her, she continued. "My best friend Emily, she has always been short tempered. Always picked up fights with the school bullies."

"And you stepped in?" Bucky asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Of course I did. Remember I told you I know about combat."

"Yes and also that you could take down a couple of Hydra agents on your own." Bucky said sarcastically.

"I can. You just don't believe me." Amelia brought her hand to her chest in mock hurt.

They sat there in a comfortable silence, looking through the window, when Amelia remembered why she had come here in the first place. She looked up to Bucky and noticed how his shirt was tight around his muscles and how it looked uncomfortable across the chest. She realized she will have to make some changes in her plan.

"Bucky? I need to go out. Got to go to the market" Bucky just nodded his head in response.

Amelia took a deep breathe and continued, "Why don't you come with me?"

Bucky snapped his head up and narrowed his eyes at her. "Me?" On one hand, he wanted to go out for atleast some time for fresh air but he didn't want to be around a lot of people. It was dangerous. He could lose control and -

"Bucky, we need to get some new clothes for you. You will have to come to pick the right size."

"I don't need new clothes. These are all right."

"They aren't Bucky. They aren't enough in number and also not the right size. I am not blind, alright?"

"Amelia, I am not sure. So many people and - "

"Bucky, it's okay. First, let's go out. You need some fresh air and then if you feel comfortable, we can buy some clothes too. I am not forcing you but you will have to go out at some point, right?"

Bucky knew she was right. He would have to face the world at some point. Then, why not now? "I'll come." He whispered.

"You won't regret it, I promise." Amelia gave him a bright smile and Bucky knew she was right.

15 minutes later, Amelia was standing at the door her hands crossed across her chest, waiting for Bucky. Her head shot up at the shuffling of feet near by and she looked up to find Bucky standing there, fiddling with his fingers nervously. He had put on a jacket and a pair of black gloves.

"Don't worry, Mr Blue eyes. It's gonna be okay." She called out to him.

He looked up to her and frowned at the name she had called him. Amelia picked up a baseball cap from the dining table and placed it gently on his head, oblivious to the sharp intake of breathe of the supersoldier as her fingers brushed across his forehead.

"Now, that might not be perfect, but it is pretty good." She remarked and they walked out of the house.

They sat in the car and after Amelia helped Bucky with the seatbelt, she began driving. It was all silent in the car as Bucky looked around the city. Amelia took subsequent glances at him as he stared through the window.

Some time later, the car stopped at a traffic light and Amelia let out a sigh. "Well, probably driving out on a sunday wasn't the best idea ever."

"But the weather is good today."

"Well, yes. It is. It is unusual during this part of the year but I would call it pleasantly unusual."

Bucky opened his mouth to reply but he noticed that something outside on his side of the road had caught her attention. He turned to look outside to see that there were some shops nearby but none which could be so appealing to her.

He turned to face her to see that she had taken the keys out and was about to walk outside.

"Bucky, stay here. I will be back in a minute."

"Where are you-" But he didn't get to complete his sentence as she walked out of the car.

Bucky sat there, confused, looking out as his gaze followed her. He saw as she entered a small florist shop. This confused him even further.

After a couple of minutes, she walked out of the shop with a small bouquet of lilies in her hand as she waved to the middle aged lady who gave her a bright smile, clearly very happy to see her.

After Amelia sat in the car, keeping the bouquet on the back seat, Bucky gave her a confused look. "Why would you buy those?"

"Why? Aren't they beautiful?"

"But you don't even keep flowers inside the house."

"That's because I know I can't take care of plants but these are not for me or the house."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and let the topic drop.

After 20 more minutes, Amelia drove into the parking lot of what looked like a big clothing store. Bucky noticed that even though it was big, it wasn't modern or sophisticated, it was kept in an old fashioned way. Amelia parked the car and while they still sat inside, she turned towards Bucky and saw how he had got tensed. He stared at the floor, jaw clenched and fingers tightened as he mentally debated about something.

"Bucky, it's going to be okay. Take a deep breathe." Bucky still stared at the floor, not looking up to meet her gaze.

"Look, we are going in but we don't compulsorily have to stay. If you feel like you want to leave or as if something isn't right, just signal it to me. We will run out of the place as fast as we can even if it makes it look as if we just robbed the shop."

Bucky finally looked up to her as he gave her a small smile.

They walked out of the car and as Amelia picked up the flowers, Bucky stood outside looking around. He couldn't help but look at everyone suspiciously with his calculative gaze, to be prepared if somebody attacked them.

The gaze of the supersoldier looked around at people walking around the place and he instinctively pulled the sleeve of the jacket further. He felt as a slightly smaller hand grabbed his metal one which was covered with glove. If it had been a week ago, he would have instinctively attacked the person but now, he didn't have to look to the side to know who it was. As his racing heart slowed down to a more normal pace and he let out a breathe he didn't know he was holding, he knew it was the woman with a smile bright enough to lighten the darkest tunnels who had enough courage to hold the weaponized metal arm.

She treats him like he’s safe, like he’s more human than weapon.

He knows better. And it’s only a matter of time before she realizes it, too.

What will happen to him then?

Bucky looked at her as she gave him that signature smile of hers. A smile which conveyed thousands of words. A promise, as if she was telling him she was there for him. A simple gesture that instilled in Bucky so much hope that maybe everything could indeed get all right and after all that he had been through, maybe things could indeed only get better from here and his fears of everything coming crumbling down would never turn true.

But, for now, he only hopes his fears don't turn true today.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female oc #bucky angst #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x original character #bucky x oc #series #latibule

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c-writes-sometimes · 7 months

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New chapter now available!

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spinningintheshadows · 2 years

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Missing You — A Bucky Barnes Series

“You’ll be missing out and we’ll be missing you” - “Missing You” by All Time Low

or the ten times James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes visited his mothers grave.

Post TFATWS Stepdad!Bucky x Wife!OFC (Elizabeth “Elsie” Moran Barnes)

coming soon

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, just shoot me an ask. As for now my taglist is just my wife @teelagurl558 who gets everything I post anyway 😂.

#marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #stepdad!bucky #stepdad! Bucky Barnes #angst #fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan #bucky barnes series #post tfatws #cue cute Uncle Sam

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jordyn-b-barnes · 9 months

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Chapter 11 is going up in the next few minutes!!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic writer #the winter soldier #soft bucky barnes #tooth rotting fluff #all the feels

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misshoneybee · 2 years

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⟣ 𝐼𝐼𝐼. 𝑌𝑂𝑈'𝑅𝐸 𝑀𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑆 𝐻𝐸𝐸𝐿 ⟢

Part I: We Learn to Live with the Pain Part II: These are the Hands of Fate ( Each part serves as something of a soft reboot so it’s not completely necessary to read Parts I and II first, but it’s strongly recommended! )

❧ Summary | What happens after the state of grace? Rebuilding her life was something that Maggie Hall had never planned on doing again. At twenty-one. At twenty-seven. And now at thirty-two. She could only hope that this time would be the last but, as she’d slowly had to learn, there was no way to control the future. With a new home in Brooklyn and new friends in Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson, she had a whole new life that was full of endless possibilities, but what would happen was something that she'd never seen coming.

❧ Genre | Romance, angst, fluff, smut, drama, mostly canon-compliant story-telling

❧ Pairings | Post-Endgame!Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character

❧ Wordcount | ~159.2k

❧ Overall Warnings | Explicit smut (18+, additional warnings to come in each chapter), explicit language, canon-typical violence/injury, themes of mental illness (depression, anxiety, ocd, ptsd)

❧ Disclaimers | Dividers are by firefly-graphics. If you are a minor, or do not have your age in your bio, and I catch you interacting with this, you will be blocked. If you believe you were blocked unfairly, send me an ask with your url.

⟣ 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅𝑆 ⟢

i. Did You Ever Hear About the Girl Who Got Frozen? ii. You’re Still All Over Me Like a Wine-Stained Dress I Can’t Wear Anymore iii. Can You See Right Through Me? iv. One for the Money, Two for the Show, I Never Was Ready So I Watched You Go v. For the First Time, What’s Past is Past vi. I Just Sit Here and Wait, Grieving for the Living vii. Forever Going with the Flow but You’re Friction viii. And All the Pieces Fall ⋆ ix. We Were a Fresh Page on the Desk, Filling in the Blanks as We Go x. We Took a Wrong Turn and We Fell Down the Rabbit Hole ⋆ xi. I’ll Be Summer Sun for You Forever xii. There is an Indentation in the Shape of You ⋆ xiii. No Rules in Breakable Heaven xiv. Religion’s in Your Lips ⋆ xv. Who You Are is Not What You Did xvi. And When I’m Feeling Alone, You Remind Me of Home xvii. Faster than the Wind, Passionate as Sin ⋆ xviii. This is Falling in Love in the Cruelest Way xix. And What Once Was Ours is No One’s Now xx. Tell Me That I’m All You Want Even When I Break Your Heart xxi. In Losing Grip on Sinking Ships, You Showed Up Just in Time ⋆ xxii. Long Story Short, I Survived ⋆

⋆ denotes sexually explicit material. minors, dni.

⟣ 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐾𝑆 ⟢

❧ Original Character Biography ❧ Series Masterpost ❧ Masterpost ❧ Playlists ❧ AO3 ❧ Wattpad

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pascaloverx · 3 months

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As It Was (S2)

Chapter Thirteen

previous chapter next chapter

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

The day of my wedding with Bucky arrived faster than I had anticipated. The reality is that James Buchanan Barnes is both the only one not involved in the wedding and the groom. I simply couldn't get that stubborn head to change his mind. Okay, I didn't even try to get him to change his mind. Every new day in your life is another terrifying day in your head, not knowing if Killian or Steve will show up and end you or someone you love. So, this fake wedding is my last chance to end this nightmare. If Barnes doesn't see it that way, too bad for him.

"You look magnificent in that dress, Melisa. I'm sure Barnes would be the luckiest man in the universe if you two were really getting married. But my best friend is as much of an idiot as he is handsome, you know." Sam says, entering the bride's room that was specially prepared for me to get ready. To be poetic, I rented the hall where they killed my father and almost killed me. Here, they have a special wedding banquet hall. And it's a place I already know.

"Thank you, Sam, for the compliment and for being here. I can't believe this day has finally come, and that I may have spent money and time on something that will go wrong." I say breathlessly, thinking about the possibility of setting up an obvious trap and not being able to capture the criminals.

"Actually, that's exactly what I came to talk to you about. Yelena was talking to some of her contacts, and it seems Steve was seen around here yesterday. Dave is checking nearby cameras to confirm. But don't get discouraged just yet. This whole team is here to support you, even though it may seem dangerous. We won't let any of them hurt you." Sam says, hugging me gently. I'm relieved to know they're here with me. Whatever happens, we'll face it together.

"This time I'm prepared too. So, let's put the plan into action. The guests should already be in their places, waiting for the groom to arrive. The music for the bride's entrance will play in a few minutes. I'll walk in with Wanda as if everything is fine, and you guys put on a show pretending that Bucky is missing. I'll create a scene, cancel the wedding, and ask everyone to leave. It'll be the perfect moment for them to attack me. The rest is up to you guys." This plan was designed with every detail in mind. There are more cameras in this building than there were before; Dave is taking care of surveillance, Sam and Yelena are handling defense in case of a surprise attack, and Wanda will be nearby in case I need help if something goes wrong. Everything is carefully planned.

"Then I'll go there in case you need anything; remember, you have an earpiece. Just say 'red' in any way possible, and we'll come to your rescue. Good luck, bride." Sam touches my arm lightly and leaves, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I look at myself in the mirror, analyzing the wedding dress I'm repurposing. It's the same one from my first wedding, just adjusted. I thought this time a veil would be more of a hindrance than a help, and a long train would be an obstacle.I hear a noise behind me, almost like a step, and automatically grab the gun hidden on the vanity where I did my makeup. I point the gun at whoever is behind me not even five seconds after hearing the noise. Of course, I could have died because five seconds is a good amount of time for someone to kill another person. If I hadn't been distracted, I would have noticed someone entering this bridal room and known it was my ex-husband, the idiot.

"Great attack plan, but I suggest aiming the gun at the head next time. It would also be good not to get distracted, but your reflex was quick. By the way, you look beautiful. I like the changes to the dress." James Barnes says, smiling shamelessly at me. I'm torn between anger and surprise. What does he want here?

"Barnes, I don't remember inviting you in or asking you to be here in general. Before you ruin my plan, go away, and take that smug smile with you." I say, trying to sound serious. I lower the gun and turn around, ignoring the fact that Bucky hasn't budged despite my request for him to leave.

"Funny. I don't recall proposing to you or accepting one from you. Yet, everyone in this building came to see you and me getting married. I hope you liked the outfit of your future husband. I'm wearing the suit you gave me on our first anniversary." He looks handsome, but I don't want to give in. I wanted him by my side, and he abandoned me. Now that I made a plan without him, he shows up here. Son of a...

"Barnes, save my time. What do you want?" I don't have much patience on a regular day, let alone when I'm about to be bait to capture not one but two dangerous men.

"I want to marry you. I want to be by your side while you do the stupidest thing ever seen in the world, and most importantly, I want to apologize for being an idiot. I realized too late that loving you means accepting your plans that will undoubtedly cause unimaginable havoc." He speaks, getting closer and closer to me. Then he holds my waist firmly, looks into my eyes, and kisses me. It's a kiss full of passion and at the same time, longing. Truth be told, I missed him, and well... he certainly missed me too.

"I can offer you a second honeymoon filled with reconciliation sex, what do you say?" Barnes says in a playful tone, and I lightly smack his arm.

"Try not to ruin the plan. Figure out a way to leave me alone during the ceremony. They won't show up with you around, and I need to be the bait. Are we clear?" I know he won't like it, but whatever he wants. He's been married to me before; he should know that when I have something in mind, I do it my way. The problem is, he's the same way.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll let you do what you want without getting in your way," he says, giving me another light kiss. I smile, knowing he probably isn't entirely serious.

"Do you promise?" I ask in the middle of the kiss, my forehead resting against his. My god, how I love this man.

"No. Now get ready because I'm going to my groom's spot to wait for my beautiful bride." He gives me a peck on the lips and leaves before I can react. I then prepare to go to the hall to fake getting married.

"Nice pathetic plan, Melisa. Beautiful. You just forgot that I was a partner with all of you while you played the united little group. I smelled a setup since I knew you were going to marry Barnes again. Who in their right mind makes the same mistake more than once?" Steve speaks behind me as I head towards the hall where the guests are waiting. I smile because I did get what I wanted.

"You, you arrogant jerk." I turn around, plunging a sharp and likely lethal knife into his chest. Poor guy, he had no idea this time I would be prepared for him. The loud thud of him hitting the ground was startling. His look of desperation mixed with the anguish of pain, simply cinematic.

"Let me guess, you thought you would come here, and I would be frightened. You'd kidnap me, and I would cry in desperation. Then, it would be a remake of the last time we were together, but this time I wouldn't survive. That way, you and Killian would go unpunished. My question is, did you underestimate me so much that you didn't even bring a weapon to threaten me?" I say, watching him writhing in pain. Poor Steve, caught off guard.

"If you think this is all, you're totally..." He tries to continue speaking, but I yank the knife out of his chest, and he's too busy feeling his blood leave his body to insult me. Oops...

"Dave, I think you can hear me. Ask Sam to come deal with Steve, near the bride's room. I'll continue with the plan." I compose myself, somewhat perplexed by what just happened, but the show must go on.

"Dave can't talk right now, but I'll pass the message to Sam. After all, Melisa... you were waiting for me, weren't you?" I get nervous hearing Killian's voice on the earpiece. Damn.

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buckybraneslover111 · 1 year

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can someone help me find a story?! i was reading it last night then my phone updated and now i can’t find it because i can’t remember who posted it, but it was part of a series, it’s called ‘Sugar’. it was of Bucky and the reader and there life in the 40s, and Bucky was living a normal life if he never fell off the train. pleaseee help me it sounds like such a good series and i was reading itttt!!

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duckybarnes1917 · 2 years

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Figure My Heart Out - Chapter 5

18+ only.

Bucky Barnes x Black Original Female Character

Flashback Chapter. Takes place starting 6 months before the action of the main story.

An exploration of Chanel's relationship with Stephan. Their beginning was just as chaotic as their ending.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #bucky x black!reader #original black female characters #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson #helmut zemo #bucky barnes x reader

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princessgriffin1998 · 1 year

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Specimen FX-23: Project Snow Fox // REBIRTH

Hello everyone!

Welcome back to chapter three of REBIRTH! I had a really good time writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it! This is a Bucky Barnes x AFAB!Reader/OC story with no use of Y/N. Reader does have a nickname.

Read the full story here!

Chapter Summary: When a lead on a case calls Sam, Steve, and Nat away from the compound, you spend some time getting to know Miss Maximoff.

Word Count: 5.2k

Previous / Next Chapter

Chapter Three: Wanda Maximoff

“Again!” the man with the cigar barked.

You inhaled sharply through your nose under the mask, waiting for the girl in front of you to attack. You could see her pupils tracking your limbs as she caught her breath. Her blue eyes lingered slightly on your left side for a moment, so quick most wouldn’t have caught it.

But most didn’t mean you.

When the girl sprung forward, going for your left arm as you suspected, you were ready. You caught her blade deftly and sunk it back into her own shoulder. The girl let out a strangled scream as you felt the blade scrape a bone. You made no noise, nor any other indication that you couldn’t stand what was happening. The smell of blood still permeated your mask and you tried not to gag as the match was called in your favour. You dropped the girl and made your way back to the center of the training ring to await further instructions. The man with the cigar tapped some of the ashes out onto the floor before pulling out a tablet.

“Such a pity my dear. I had such high hopes for you.'' The man cooed in Russian before tapping a button on his tablet.

You watched as the girl lifted her unharmed arm, her bracers right up to her own temple as she shocked herself. You didn’t even flinch as she died, instead you tried to focus on the man. His blue suit glimmered slightly under the fluorescent lighting in the training room as he clicked his tongue at the dead girl before him, as if she was nothing more than a broken cup or spilled beverage. The man then turned to you. Bringing the cigar up to his lips he took a long drag before running his finger tips down the side of your face and along the jaw of your mask.

“You, however, are better than I could’ve dreamed.” He chuckled, his Russian words covered in smoke and escaping through his teeth as he laughed at a joke only he seemed to be in on.

His touch filled you with a sense of dread, but like with your creator you found yourself unable to even flinch away from him.

“Alright get this shit cleaned up. I want her to go again.” He barked, switching to English and gesturing at the body on the floor in front of you.

“But sir we really need to get the specimen bank in its tank. We’re already nearing its limits.” Nagel protested.

The man simply waved him away.

“And you are pushing yours. I will get what I paid for.” He growled.

You saw Nagel blanch and swallow, his eyes darting between you and the man before nodding.

“Of course sir. Specimen FX-23 is always surprising us with her performance. Who should go next?” He asked, typing away at his tablet while two men dragged the body away.

The man in the suit grinned as he took another drag.

“Doesn't matter to me.” He smirked, and with a wave of his hand another girl stepped forward.

Her blonde hair was braided away from her face and tucked up and you wondered briefly if the girls you were fighting did their own hair or if they were permitted to help each other.

“Alright girls. Show me who wants it more.” The man chuckled darkly as he stepped back towards the rest of the men.

“Winner walks out of the arena.” He said, raising his arm and letting it fall to signal the start of your fight.

The girl in front of you quickly flicked out a knife and lunged forward.

___________________________

With a start, you shoot upright on the floor.

Slapping a hand over your mouth, you desperately try to control your breathing like Bucky taught you.

“Don’t worry Doll, you’re safe. I’ve gotcha.”

Inhale for four counts.

Exhale for four counts.

As you pant, you look around the dark room in front of you. Your enhanced vision letting you see the outline of your bedroom despite there being no light source.

You were at the Avengers compound.

You were in America.

You were safe.

(‘Inhale… two… three… four…,’)

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, could you please tell me the time?” You rasped, scrubbing a hand down your face as you laid back against your pillows and focused on the dim outline of the bed a few feet from you.

(‘Exhale… two… three… four…’)

“It’s 3:26am, Miss Fox. Would you like me to order some sleeping aids from Doctor Cho? I could also alert someone on the team of your distress?” The AI offered.

You shook your head as you licked your lips.

“No, thank you. I think I am just awake for the day.” You answered with a deep sigh.

You stared up at your ceiling for another moment before deciding to hop into a cold shower to wash away the cold sweat and the lingering feeling of unease.

Tonight was your second night in the compound.

After your first day with Sam and Steve, you’d watched a movie together.

You had appreciated Sam’s commentary and Steve giving you quick historical breakdowns so that you had the full context for what you were watching and you’d headed straight to bed once the movie was over.

Yesterday the two had barely had time to have breakfast with you before their phones had gone off and they were called to action. You hadn’t minded though. The rest of the team was still out on assignment, Natasha and Wanda having returned very late last night.

You still hadn’t met The Vision yet and Stark hadn’t returned from the Penthouse yesterday. So you’d decided to curl up on the couch in the common area, enjoying what you assumed to be a rare afternoon of having the compound to yourself. You’d read some of the books on the shelves and put on several of the records next to the turntable. You’d even danced a little with yourself while F.R.I.D.A.Y explained how to order yourself something to eat from the cafeteria.

You’d been downright giddy to learn you could order food to the kitchen or to your own room using the compound’s communication network. No speaking required. You had eaten some fruits and crackers by yourself before retiring to your room to have your first bath.

You’d also been delighted to learn that there was a tv installed in the wall of your linen closet, meaning you could watch a movie in your bathtub. Shuri had been too busy for a long call, but she’d recommended some tv shows for you to watch in the bath as the two of you said goodbye last night. She’d also explained using liquid body soap to create bubbles in the bath and you’d almost flooded the bathroom in your excitement.

(You watched ‘Tangled’ while you soaked, and dug out a nice body scrub while you got sufficiently pruney.)

It was halfway through your bath that F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted you of the team's return.

“Pardon the interruption Miss Fox, but Agent Romanoff and Miss Maximoff have returned. Mr. Wilson, and Captain Rogers are meeting them on the air strip in five minutes if you’d like to join them.” The AI informed you politely.

You’d glanced over at the clock and saw it was almost midnight and wondered if you could get away with hiding just a little bit longer.

“No thank you Miss Friday. I think I’m going to go to sleep instead.” A few hours later and here you were, back to staring at yourself in your bathroom.

You watched as a small drop of water trailed down your forehead, sliding down your neck and disappearing into the towel you had wrapped around yourself. You had to assume your ability to function on minimal sleep was due to the serum. That was the only explanation for how wired you felt. Glancing over at the time you noted it’d been about half an hour since you first woke up. Steve would be getting up to go for a run soon, so you decided you’d try to meet him in the kitchen to join him and Sam.

“Miss Friday?”

“Yes Miss Fox?”

“Is there a way I can play music from my device in here?” You asked.

Your bathroom’s sound system had been probably the most appealing part of the room so far (it seemed Tony Stark refused to ever be without music, even in rooms he’d probably never use) and you wanted a soundtrack for while you got ready for your day.

“Of course Miss Fox. You can use the plug on the wall next to the door, or I can show you how to wirelessly connect if your device has bluetooth?” The AI offered.

“The plug in is fine, thank you.” You’d smiled.

You plugged in your music device and switched on something classical and soothing while you toweled yourself off and changed into some running clothes. You hummed along as you brushed your teeth before shutting the music off and grabbing your journal and a pen and making your way to the kitchen.

You’d wanted to try and get everything down while it was still relatively fresh in your mind so you cracked open your journal and flipped to an empty page while a mug of tea steeped next to you on the counter.

You began with the outline of the training room. It had been different from the usual room you trained in, so you started with the floor plan. Once you’d sketched out the perimeter of the room you tried to fill it. Nagel’s form and accompanying lab rats were added in quickly before you switched your attention to the man in the blue suit and his lackeys. You sipped your tea as you sketched in the benches where the other girls were sitting. You tried to remember their faces but unfortunately it seemed to be impossible. You settled for trying to remember the unique hairstyles the girls all wore, doing your best to add texture to each lock or braid. As you started working on the details of the man in the suit, you heard a familiar walk coming from the elevator and shut your journal.

“Oh! Good morning Snow Fox! I didn’t think you’d be up this early,” a groggy Steve greeted you as he made his way over to the coffee maker. “Sleep okay?”

“Yes thank you,” you lied, sipping your tea and pretending to be interested in the elastic strap that held your journal closed. “I was wondering if you maybe wanted a running partner? I only ever run on the treadmill.”

“I’m sorry Snow Fox, normally I’d love that but I’m actually getting ready to ship out. Nat caught an amazing lead on an arms dealer running weapons in and out of Libya last night so she and I are taking Sam to investigate.” Steve explained, an apologetic smile on his face as he stood across the island from you.

“Wanda and Vision are home though! Wanda’s not much of a runner but I’m sure the two of you could come up with something. Tony said he’d be coming back sometime this week and I think he’s got some ID for you now.” Steve smiled and despite your disappointment, you found yourself smiling back at him.

Steve continued to chatter away at you as he prepared a to-go coffee for himself, Nat, and Sam. He kept the details vague but he told you what he could about the current mission he was about to leave for and let you accompany him down to the hangar where an equally tired Sam was waiting.

“No wonder you took so long.” Sam yawned after spotting you.

He took his travel mug with a grateful nod to Steve before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Morning sunshine. Whatcha doin’ up so early?” he asked, taking a long sip.

You shrugged, his arm lifting with your shoulders.

“Just woke up and stayed up.” You answered quietly.

Sam hummed, and the two of you enjoyed a quiet moment together before Steve was calling him onto the jet.

“Ok listen, we’ve all got our phones on us and they’ll be in the jet while we’re on the mission but if you need us F.R.I.D.A.Y will know how to reach us in case of an emergency. Steve thinks this shouldn’t take more than a few days to sort out and we’ll be picking Bucky up on our way back. Have fun with Wanda and seriously, don’t hesitate if you need anything okay?” Sam asked, twisting to look you in the eyes as he rubbed your shoulder with the arm wrapped around you.

You smiled and nodded, appreciative of how caring Sam could be. You wrapped your arms around him and squeeze him gently before stepping back and waving goodbye to Steve and Nat who were waiting on the ramp of the Quinjet.

“Have fun, be safe!” You called out to them with a smile.

As the boys disappeared up the ramp, you caught Natasha’s eye in the cockpit and offered her a nod and small salute. Nat nodded before turning and making her way back to the pilot's seat. Steve smiled and waved back as the ramp closed and with a whoosh they were gone.

___________________________________

Having never met Wanda Maximoff, you had no idea what time she would wake up. Once you’d made your way back up to the kitchen to make another mug of tea, you noticed it was barely 5:30am.

Much too early for someone who’d just spent all day yesterday traveling back to America. Accepting that today would be another lonely day, or at the very least a lonely morning, you ordered some fruit from the cafeteria and raided the kitchen for some yogurt and granola while you waited for the fruit to arrive.

Stark had these contraptions all through the compound to send things from one place to another. A “dumb waiter” Steve had called it. There was one in the kitchen so that food could be sent directly to the counter next to the fridge and while you boiled another kettle the little door chimed and you slid it up to reveal a carton of strawberries and a carton of black berries. Humming to yourself, you prepared a little parfait and took out your Stark phone to send a photo to Shuri of your little breakfast.

‘Missing you. Make sure you eat something!’ You wrote, smiling at the thumbs up emoji Shuri sent back.

You knew she could get too wrapped up in a project and forget to eat, so you’d decided that you’d message her when you were eating hoping that you could remind her.

Once you’d finished your breakfast you decided to go unpack your things. So far all your clothes were still in the bags you traveled with and you had a pretty nice closet now. You plugged your device into the bathroom sound system once again and nodded along to an upbeat playlist of swing music. You were so wrapped up in making sure all your belongings were nicely hung up or folded that you barely noticed time flying by.

As you hung up the last shirt, you walked out of the closet and noticed how bright your room had gotten. The plain grey walls alight with late morning sunshine. Having nothing else in your room to clean or organize yet, you decided to tackle a new book from the common space.

You grabbed your journal and made your way back to the kitchen where you came face to face with a very groggy Wanda Maximoff.

“Oh! You startled me. Good morning, you must be Snow Fow.” she greeted and you nodded, suddenly very unsure of yourself.

“I’m Wanda. Vision will probably get here soon now that I’m up.” she smiled tiredly as she shook a tea bag in a large green mug. “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” you answered shyly, pulling out a stool to sit at the island while Wanda grabbed you an equally large blue mug.

“So how old are you?” She’d asked as you sat down at the counter, watching her prepare what smelled like green tea for you.

“Biologically, 22.” you’d recited, nodding when she gestured to the honey.

“What do you mean biologically? Are you 22 or not?”

“I’m, um… I’m not technically a person I don’t think. I’m a clone.” you stammered. Wanda just raised an eyebrow as you continued, “So um, Shuri figures I’m biologically 22, but I wasn’t born so I don’t have a birthday. I was created just over three and a half years ago so I guess physically I’m 3? Age is confusing… at least when it comes to me.” you shrugged.

Wanda let out a laugh.

“You’re right that sounds like a technical nightmare. 22 it is. I’m 25 by the way. Y’know, I’m amazed we found someone almost as young as Vision to join the team. He’s almost 3 too!” She joked, sliding the mug towards you which you picked up with a grateful smile.

You took a sip and were pleasantly surprised to discover she’d made your tea exactly how you liked it.

“Listen, I’m just going to be honest, I'm not really good at small talk. So I vote to pretend we already know each other and just speak freely.” Wanda smiled softly as she leaned against the counter opposite you. Her hands wrapped around the green mug as she took a dainty sip. Your shoulders sagged with relief.

“Thank you. I’m not very good at it either. It would be nice to have another friend that’s a girl here at the compound.” you smiled genuinely. Wanda grinned back.

“Wonderful. Well to be frank I’m exhausted. I’m normally up around now but sleeping on the jet really didn’t do anything for me. I don’t want to sleep again cause I want to readjust to this time zone, so I think I’m going to go meditate for a while if you’d like to join me?” she offered and you nodded.

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, but I can try. I have never done it before.” you explained as you grabbed your journal and mug, following Wanda’s confident steps out of the kitchen towards the elevator.

“Don’t worry about it, I can teach you. Everyone meditates differently, but the important part is to calm your mind. However you choose to do that is up to you.” she explained, leading you to the elevator she pushed the button for the first floor and led you to the open training space.

“It’s just us and Vision home right now so we can use the training room, but when the weather gets nice I like to go meditate in the mornings on the roof. I think you’ll really like it,” Wanda beamed as the two of you grabbed some yoga mats and set them up next to the large bay window.

You followed Wanda’s lead and got comfortable sitting cross legged on the blue mat.

“Now there’s a few things people do when they meditate. You don’t have to but it helps to have a mantra or phrase to focus on while you meditate, especially if you’re a beginner. I use meditation to help me keep control of my powers. Sometimes large emotions cause outbursts or energy and I don’t want to hurt anyone…” Wanda trailed off, her eyes looked downwards and you could tell she was remembering something sad.

You shyly reached a hand out and placed it over the hand on her right knee.

“We are both here because we could hurt someone, but I think us being here is a testament to our desire to do good in the world, yes?” you asked.

You felt quite pleased when a small smile broke across Wanda’s lips.

“Yes, that is a very kind way to look at it. Where was I? Oh! Mantras! Since we’ll be meditating together I don’t think you’ll need one. It’ll probably be kinda confusing if we’re both chanting something. Since this is your first time ever, let's use today to focus on your breathing. Sit up straight and close your eyes.” Wanda instructed and you immediately removed your hand from hers and placed it back on your knees.

You straightened your spine and tried to mimic Wanda’s position.

“Take a deep breath, make sure to fill your diaphragm with air, not your rib cage. If it helps, try to make sure you don’t move your shoulders up and down.” Wanda explained.

You closed your eyes and inhaled through your nose, trying to follow Wanda’s instructions, you focused on feeling your stomach expand.

“Great! Now exhale slowly. If it helps you can inhale on counts of four, then exhale on a count of four.”

“What next?” you asked, cracking an eye to see Wanda had closed both of her eyes and begun the same breathing exercise.

“This is it. Focus on your breathing and allow the simplicity of the thought to soothe your mind.” Wanda answered softly, taking another deep breath at the end of her sentence.

You purse your lips, unsure of how breathing with your eyes closed like this could be the entire activity.

Not wanting to be rude to a new friend however, you straightened your back again and took another deep breath. You tried to keep your mind as blank as possible, letting your enhanced senses focus on everything else around you.

You slowed your breathing to match Wanda’s and listened to her relaxed heart beat. As she breathed, the slight shifts in her body wafted the smell of her floral shampoo past your nose. The tea you had both brought was cooling, no longer steaming mugs next to you both. The scent of the leaves changed slightly as the bags over-steeped and turned the fragrance slightly bitter. You could smell the plasticy matts in the gym, and the chemical cleaners that had been used last night. Your ears perked up as you heard the faint sounds of agents in the distance, too far away for you to clearly make out what was being shouted, but enough that you could tell they were running some kind of drill. Even fainter still you could make out the sound of running water behind the compound. Somewhere a bird was chirping.

“Feeling relaxed?” Wanda asked, a cheeky grin evident in her tone.

Slowly you blinked your eyes open and Wanda’s pleased face came into focus. You smiled, lazy and content.

“Yes, that was very pleasant. I don’t know if I could maintain that for long.” you answered.

“Snow Fox, check the clock. We’ve been here for almost an hour.” Wanda laughed.

You whipped your head around to see that she was right. You’d been breathing with your eyes closed for forty-five minutes. Letting out a small laugh of disbelief, you shook your head and grabbed your now-cold green tea and took a sip.

“You’re a very good teacher then.” Wanda just giggled.

“C’mon let's go find some lunch.”

__________________________________

After your first shared morning Wanda, true to her word, continued to act very casually around you.

You let her order you a salad she liked for lunch and she’d sat next to you at the island in the kitchen, bumping you with her elbow to emphasize a joke or in retaliation to any cheeky remarks you made. Once your plates were empty and the two of you decided to move to the media room. Wanda informed you that today would be a “girl’s day” because she wasn’t on active duty for another day since she just returned from a mission.

“Steve is really good about making sure we can all recover after a mission. He tries to make sure that if you have to leave the compound for an extended period of time, that your rest time after is comparable. Obviously there’s exceptions like Nat just went back out, but I’ve only been cleared for field duty in the last year. I think the others still like to treat me like the baby of the team.” Wanda smirked, instructing you to sit while she grabbed all the supplies to have “girl’s day”.

You and Shuri spent a lot of time together, but you weren’t sure exactly what kind of time together qualified as a “girl’s day”. Not that you wanted to admit it but you hoped it was as fun as movies had made it seem. You grabbed the remotes and did your best to get the tv set up. By the time you were able to find the Netflix menu you could hear Wanda coming down the hall.

“Okay! I didn’t know exactly what you’d need so I grabbed all of it. Let’s be pampered!” Wanda beamed.

You whipped your head around and let out a small laugh of disbelief.

Wanda was standing in the doorway of the movie room with a laundry basket loaded with all kinds of products. You quickly stood to help her carry the basket over to the coffee table and took in all the cosmetics in front of you. Wanda explained that she’d grabbed all of her nail polish, skin care, and several magazines for you to review. While she was explaining the difference between the regular polish and the uv gel, the ding of the dumb waiter chimed and Wanda dashed out of the room returning with a massive tray.

She’d seemingly ordered all the snacks in the world. Chips, cookies, cut fruits and vegetables, a charcuterie board (You’d had no idea sliced meats could be so fancy), and wine. Wanda had explained that after her birthday (her birthday was February 10th, a fact about your new friend that you happily tucked away) she and Vision had gone on a wine tour courtesy of Tony and wanted to show you all the different wines and ciders she’d bought herself.

“I know that the alcohol won’t affect you, but I thought maybe you’d like to try them. The ciders are apple, strawberry, and I think there might be one or two peach ones left.” Wanda explained as she handed you a brightly coloured can with a cartoon peach along the side.

You smiled and helped yourself to some more fruit while Wanda poured herself a glass of wine and picked something for you to watch. You cracked open the can of cider and found it was surprisingly tart (you assumed the alcohol made it that way) but not entirely unpleasant. You took another sip as Wanda browsed the tv guide for something the two of you would enjoy.

You discovered that she loved tv, specifically old sitcoms.

Your movie education had been quite extensive with Shuri, but you hadn’t had the patience for long, multi-episode story arcs. Wanda introduced you to “I Love Lucy” and the two of you applied mud masks and painted each other's toenails since you’d just painted your nails your favourite colour last night.

(She’d chosen a sparkly red, you’d gone for a midnight blue)

The alcohol did nothing for you as predicted, your metabolism breaking it down before you could get drunk, but sharing with Wanda had lifted your spirits.

After a couple glasses of wine, you discovered Wanda was a huge goofball.

Her Russian was surprisingly good considering it was technically her third language after Sokovian and English. The two of you had an easier time communicating than expected and it had been nice letting her explain some of the jokes on TV in your native tongue.

Wanda’s general aura of sweetness and empathy had set you at ease in the dark media room, letting you lower your guard just enough to have the living daylights scared out of you when Vision phased up through the floor to stand next to Wanda.

You shrieked and broke an empty wine bottle over his head.

“Vision!” Wanda admonished, picking a piece of glass out of her hair.

Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as the android blinked at you.

“My apologies. I did not consider the shock I may cause. Most of the team is used to my phasing.” he explained.

“No, I'm sorry. They did warn me that you would probably do that. I’m sorry about your head.” You offered, grabbing a broom to clean up the glass.

“Vision doors,” Wanda whined.

You just smiled as you cleaned up, Vision grabbing a trash can for the glass before settling down on the couch next to Wanda.

“I will endeavor to use them more frequently.” he promised, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“So, FX-23, how are you settling into the compound?” Vision asked. Wanda smacked his chest.

“Vision you can’t call her FX-23! That’s not a name!” She protested.

“My apologies. I’ve been reading over some of your files from Hydra to try and help the team determine the end goal of your project. What should I call you instead?” He asked politely and you tilted your head.

“I don’t mind if you call me FX-23, no one really does anymore. Shuri started calling me Snow Fox. That’s what everyone else has been calling me,” you offered. Wanda smacked her forehead.

“That’s not a name either!” she cried, somehow more offended.

“Well it’s the only one I’ve got. Hydra didn’t give me a name, I had a project ID and a specimen code.” you deadpanned.

“My name at first was ‘The Vision’. Thor called me that. Over time, the ‘The’ was dropped and I am now Vision.” he added.

“You could choose a new name. Snow Fox should be your Avenger-code name, not your name name. Why don’t you pick one?” Wanda asked and you bit your lip.

You’d been okay with everyone calling you Snow Fox, you didn’t have anything else to compare it to. It hadn’t occurred to you that you could choose a different name. A more “normal” name. Wanda just stared at you expectantly and you smiled at her enthusiasm.

“Can we pick one later? I really want to know what happens in the chocolate factory.” you ask, trying to side step the question as Wanda’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god we need to restart the episode. This one is iconic!” she squealed, you and Vision laughing at her as she fumbled the remote.

You looked over at where Wanda had tucked herself into Vision’s side as the episode restarted and smiled softly. After only a few hours spent with Wanda, you had a good feeling about her. She was soft and sweet, but still firm in her beliefs and a force to be reckoned with if the clips of her in combat were anything to go by. You had a good feeling that she would be an amazing friend if you could let her in. So when Wanda turned to you after a joke you’d missed on the tv, a tipsy and cheeky grin plastered across her face, you let yourself grin back at her and settled in for a long girl’s night.

___________________________________

A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for being patient with me while I get CH3 ready for tumblr. You can also check out the fic on Ao3 from my master list, and I’m hoping to get CH4 edited and added soon☺️ If I don’t finish before the new year, I hope you’re all having a lovely and safe winter so far and enjoying any holidays you might celebrate💖

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captainsimagines · 2 years

Text

hunting the fates || one

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (Fem) POC Enhanced Reader; Sam Wilson x Female Original Character

Trope: Fantasy/Mythology/Horror; Soulmates/Mates; Angst/Fluff/Smut; Bisexual! Bucky Barnes; Multiple POV’s

Based on the Song(s): ‘Power’ by Isak Danielson ; ‘Breakfast’ by Dove Cameron ; ‘Darkside’ by Neoni ; ‘Bow - Slowed’ by Reyn Hartley

AO3 Link

Warnings: strong language; inaccurate Greek mythology; mentions of infertility; mentions of slavery

Word Count: 6,100+

Author’s Note: Oh my Gods! Here we go with the fantasy sequel! I’m so excited for this, you guys have no idea. Like I’ve stated, the Greek mythology is both accurate and inaccurate on purpose so do not bully me lmao. Every song is for a certain character or couple! You can guess who “Bow-Slowed” is for... wink wink! xxMoni

The temperature was cool in Hell.

Or at least, moderate.

The exact word was lost for Bucky Barnes, who was hurdled through time and space and fuck-all after being tossed into a fiery portal and landing on a plush, red carpet in the middle of the most impressive room he has ever seen. One crane of the neck and he took in the castle’s black walls, adorned with intricately carved designs—statues that sat in their own miniature thrones; gargoyles of winged angels…or demons…with wide open mouths and silent screams; pillars indented with a language he did not understand.

There were doors everywhere. In front of him, to his sides, probably behind. Beautiful black wood that curved in arches and squares. Through some, he swears he sees eyes of all colors staring back. Through others, pure darkness.

He’s positive the portal already closed and trapped him in whatever alternate universe this was.

But Bucky Barnes knew where he was. He would be an absolute idiot to ask.

Hell. Bucky literally landed in Hell.

Every original perception he had of Hell painted a land of chaos. Endless screaming from the poor or deserving souls trapped in the rivers, that damned three-headed dog aiming for necks, fire engulfing even the tightest corners. But what greeted him was comfortable quiet, the way a throne room usually functioned. The air was clean and absent of the smell of iron. Not one lick of fire started at his feet.

“I see you put up a fight.”

And upon that throne of beautifully carved wood that could also possibly be bone—was the most beautiful man Bucky Barnes has ever seen.

Black hair with highlighted blue when reflected with light, blue flame lightly touching his fingertips, and tattoos of such terrific and complicated designs stemming from his exposed collarbones, to the other areas of pale skin. In fact, he may be covered in ink. The man—the God—before him was sculpted brilliantly, stretching the confines of his dark grey dress shirt and tailored black pants. A black, cashmere scarf lay loose upon his broad shoulders and down to his seated hips. Those dark blue eyes were almost black. With his left foot resting on his right knee and his sliced jawline leaning on a tattooed hand, the God of the Underworld was the picture of casual and detached elegance. Seemingly disinterested in what just landed at the foot of his throne.

Bucky felt a shudder beside him, then realized he was still holding something—someone in his arms.

Shortcake.

He loosened his grip, only to have you fling from his arms and into a standing position. Heavy footsteps, green light illuminating from the ends of your hair, and then—

“Maxwell told me you were feisty.”

Maxwell, at the corner of Bucky’s eye, flinched. Not frightened, but guilty and ashamed.

To Bucky’s ultimate horror, you growled and spit at the base of the throne. “Bastard!”

The God of the Underworld’s disinterested expression brightened, his smile widening. “Charming, too.”

Sam pushed against Bucky’s shoulder, ordering him to stand down. Bucky blinked a few times to focus, his vision white around the edges and his arms suddenly cold.

Hell is hot. Why is he cold?

“But my name is not bastard—” The God stood to his full height, dwarfing you and emitting such a punch of command, Bucky wavered. “My name is Hades.”

“That’s not your real name,” you said, teasing along every word. As if you were tempting the God to smite you, to curse you, to dismiss you—Bucky knows you’re buying time to assess the room, the situation.

Hades grinned, his chuckle barely restrained. “And in time, you’ll learn it.”

Sam made sure to stand to Bucky’s right, leaving his metal arm free. They’ve both adopted slightly defensive stances, but have remained more cautious than anything. Sam doesn’t need to voice it—Bucky knows they’re both terrified of your boldness.

“What gives you the right?” you yelled, green light unfurling from your fingertips. “First the Fates fuck with all our lives and now you want to get involved? Why is it up to us to help you? Deal with it yourself!”

It’s at that moment that Bucky noticed two other people in the room. Or…one person and one—what in the world?

A gorgeous, golden-haired woman standing to the right side of Hades’s throne snorted softly, rolling her…red…eyes when you glared at her. Her wavy hair extended to the middle curve of her back, and the baby hairs at her forehead curled from the humidity Bucky had not yet noticed. She was blushed in her high cheeks, and wearing black leathers that covered every inch of her, but did not hide her strong figure. A fighter, Bucky realized, who protected the throne and the God sitting on it.

But it’s the chains wrapped around her wrists, unconnected and functioning as bracelets. Chains that weren’t decorative, but rather unchosen. The cold in Bucky’s veins deepened into a burning rage, like dry ice, from the sight.

A slave. Not a fighter. A slave that Hades has as his right hand—

“Your defiance, trickery, game—whatever you want to call it, has chosen you. Those damn crones were waiting for an out. By blindsiding them, they blindsided me.”

“Not. My. Problem,” you seethed.

“It’s all our problems!” A voice, light as a butterfly, fluttered from behind Hades’s shoulder. Bucky recognized it as a female voice, a voice soft like a feather’s touch, but close to a battle cry. Her words weren’t meant to be vicious, almost like she raised her voice for the purpose of being seen.

A figure the size of Bucky’s wrist-to-palm ratio, lightly levitating above Hades’s shoulder and formed purely of water, emerged. She was graceful as water is graceful, with blue hair with white highlights. But her hair floated around her ears, behind her, like calm ocean waves. Her facial features were difficult to see from far away, but Bucky could clearly make out pretty silver eyes, a delicate nose, and plump lips. Her skin wasn’t skin, but water too. Blue—she’s completely blue. Her sheer dress left nothing to the imagination, so her body was completely visible. Nipples, toned stomach, even the slit between her legs. But modesty seemed nonexistent, especially for a creature as exquisite as her, so Bucky doesn’t dwell on it. He focused instead on her lithe movements, until she was fully visible and standing proudly on Hades’s shoulder.

Her feet might be Bucky’s favorite feature of hers—feet absent of toes, and instead arched and looped, like an elf’s boot.

A water sprite.

In Hell.

The water sprite continued, “They have cursed humans and Gods alike for too long!”

“How—” Sam said, raising his hands. “Is that our problem?”

“Do you take no responsibility?” Hades said through a grin.

“I would be more hospitable, man. You’ve just sucked us through the Portal of Hell, sending a goddamn lackey in your place. We aren’t in the mood for an interrogation.”

The absolute balls on Sam, Bucky thinks. To stare down the literal Devil with a steady voice.

Fuck.

“I’m not his lackey, ” Maxwell scoffed. “We figured you’d come willingly if you saw a friendly face.”

“The portal sucked us in and you looked like you were in pain,” Bucky heard you say before the water sprite hopped from Hades’s shoulder and to the arm of the throne. Her hair floated behind her, droplets falling but evaporating before it reached her feet.

Maxwell shrugged. “If I do not want to leave this realm, then it’s painful. I didn’t plan on staying so long on Earth.” His tone was near mocking.

“I am not a being who kidnaps.” Hades waved a bored hand through the air. “If you want to go, go.”

It’s a trick. They wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble and created a massive scene in a fucking Denny’s if it wasn’t serious. They were planning on keeping everyone in this realm for a while longer.

Bucky could hear you breathing through your nose. Your fingers clenched your sweater, then unclenched when you rolled your neck. Bucky had seen the excitement in your eyes tonight. A good meal, a walk around the nearby blocks, perhaps a trip into each other’s beds. That was promised. And now someone other than you and him have broken that promise, tarnished this night—the night you were both ready to move on fully. The first step of many.

Now, no one moves.

“Smart humans,” Hades clicked. He slowly sat back down, leaning backward until he mimicked slouching. “If you go, then the Fates are set loose forever. I do not know where they are. And since it was your fate—" He pointed at all three of you. “You will help me. If you do not, then they have abandoned their posts, leaving your realm in chaos for the foreseeable future. Even with the rip in the multiverse.”

“Do you exist in only our universe or all the others?” Sam asked.

“Only this one.”

“So, Greek mythology is…real?”

Hades chuckled. “In this universe, Norse and Greek are real. So are parts of other human religions. In other universes, I do not know.”

At this, Bucky pondered. It isn't like his Jewish faith is shaken—it's been rocky for a long time. Still, he can't help the feeling of loss.

The golden-haired woman stepped forward, looking to Hades before she spoke. He gave her a slight bow of the head. “The Fates have been terrorizing the Gods and humans alike for centuries. Fate is just a made up word for their fun. With them scattered, we cannot employ new Fates.”

Sam cleared his throat before saying, “It’s that easy? You can just replace people who have been doing this job for centuries?”

The woman snarled at being interrupted. Sam doesn’t verbally apologize, but he does avoid her glowing red eyes.

“They must die for us to search for new Fates—Better Immortals who will not use their gifts for sport.”

“Elva is right,” Hades agreed. “All of us in this room have been plagued by their games.”

“What. Games.” Your voice sent violent shivers down Bucky’s spine.

This means…Bucky understands what it means.

He understands, he understands—

“Sam Wilson,” Hades started. “From what I know, the Fates were ecstatic when you became the new Captain America. They chose that road for you. As they did with the Falcon.” Then, with a soft sigh, Hades’s expression actually conveyed pity when he said, “Riley was never supposed to make it.”

Sam’s lips thinned as he stared. And stared.

Then, “They killed Riley?”

A statement of deathly promise.

Hades gave a curt nod before continuing. “I hear they call you Shortcake. But you’re more than that…Aren’t you? Princess…Goddess.”

Bucky watched as your chest rose and fell. His hands ached for you, to count your heartbeats and match them with his.

“If they killed Riley,” Hades lamented, even if there was no personal grief behind his words. “Then I know you know what that means for you.”

Ari.

Your fists clenched and remained clenched, as did your eyes.

Bucky’s going to do it. One more blasted second and he’ll run up to you, hold you, carry you out of here to wherever he can. Every single time you experienced the pain of losing Ari all over again—every single time he experienced the pain of losing Steve—it hurt like fucking Hell.

“Hades,” you breathed, your voice dripping with hatred for the man or for the situation, Bucky didn't know. “Were they responsible for Bucky’s fall from the train?”

A pause, then a jut of his chin.

“His capture?”

Silence. The same jut.

“His torture? His shit luck? His time lost? Steve leaving him?”

A muscle in Hades’s jaw jumped as he confirmed, “All of it. And when you became mortal, that’s when their fun ended. Because they never intended for you two to be—”

“Hades!” the water sprite exclaimed, shaking her small head. “That is not what we discussed!”

Hades rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched in amusement. Bucky’s breath had stalled while you listed everything the Fates were responsible for.

About him. About his life. The life that was stolen from him. The time that was stolen from him.

Before he could voice it, however, you beat him to it.

“Then point me in the direction of the first Fate bitch.”

Elva is tasked with leading the three of you to your rooms. Three separate rooms, all in the same hallway, on the sixth level of the palace. You don’t trust yourself to complain about it—how the three of you would much rather share a room and not be separated so you could watch each other’s backs each passing second.

You don’t trust yourself to speak at all. If you did, your voice would have demanded these things and more. Demanded to know how to get back to your realm, to know how much time had passed, to be told every single detail about this palace. This prison for however long Hades decided to keep you here. Or at least, until you murdered the Three Fate bitches.

“This is yours,” Elva instructed Sam, not bothering to look behind her. You had half a mind to attack her from behind, to hold her down and rip those answers from her throat, but you refrained. And not because you were above violence, but because Elva didn’t deserve it.

“Does it lock from the inside or the outside?” Sam asked, running an unconcerned finger along the fine wood.

Elva released a noise that sounded like a snort, though her face was absent of humor. “The inside. You are not prisoners.”

“If we go, our realm is thrown into chaos that’s possibly worse than a multiverse intrusion. If we stay, we’re essentially reluctant guests,” Bucky explained. Most of his attention was focused to Elva’s dangling hands, but you could see he was mapping out the hallway’s twists and turns.

The idea that this was your fault ate away at you slowly. With each step to your assigned room, with every breath you took.

Ari had done a selfless, brave thing. You allowed mortality into your bloodstream. Sam took demon claws to the abdomen in order to save you. And this was how you’re repaid?

You returned a demon to Hell. You cured a group of Immortals who simply wanted to have a regular life without the exterior disasters of your passed-down bloodline. You reburied Ari to send his soul to a peaceful afterlife.

And by doing everything right, the Fates are pissed at you for it?

Elva pointed to another room a few doors down from Sam’s. “This is yours, Earthling.”

“I have a name.”

Elva turned around and angled her head slightly. “What would you like to be called?”

No one, not even Sam and Bucky, call you by your real name. On official documents, you’ve opted for a shortened version. Sam has only ever said that shortened version.

Your birth name died with Ari, with your people. Ari was the last person to ever utter it. Even Druig refrains from using it.

So you look Elva in her blood-red eyes, a tic in your jaw. “Earthling is fine.”

She smirked, and angled her head at Sam. “Then that makes you Birdling.”

“Did I say I wanted a nickname?”

Bucky snorted, scratching at his top lip as if that would mask the sound.

Elva smiled at him. Teeth straight and white, but the formation of such a bright smile was intimidating. “I quite like your name. Bucky.”

He involuntarily shivered beside you, and nodded quickly.

Elva turned around and continued down the hallway, pointing at the last door to the right as she announced, “And here’s your room…Buck— ”

“Thank you,” you said promptly, basically dismissing her. Elva does nothing but smile brightly again, obviously faked. With a quick whip around, she left you alone. Her stride was graceful, and with all the confidence of a soldier.

You had seen the chains masked as bracelets. You know Bucky did, too.

Keeping that quiet was bothering you, but it would be smarter to address it another time.

In the quiet, Bucky cleared his throat and suggested, “Should we scope out the rooms as one?”

Together, you swiped the rooms and mapped every anomaly—nicks in the paint, the strength of the mattresses, the sturdiness of the furniture and doors. One thing you all agreed on was that the rooms were grand, furnished for royalty.

Or Gods.

Gothic-themed and luckily clean, the rooms were obviously meant for esteemed guests. Sam pondered if Hades was simply trying to confuse you, to have you feel wanted and protected only to fuck you over tomorrow.

All three rooms were adorned with king-sized beds, blood-red sheets draped over them and bed posts carved with such intricate woodwork, you had to study them closely. On the two against the wall, great dragons looped around the strong wood and burst at the tip, mouths wide in a recorded battle cry. On the two near the end, elegant flames reached their arms to the high ceiling. The walls were painted red and black, Bucky’s differing only slightly with shades of blue and black instead. Rugs that depicted stories about demons, past Hades and Persephone’s, even Gods that had no beef with the Underworld. The rooms were packed with dressers, exquisite dark clothing practically spilling from the drawers and hangers. And the shoes…Even Sam whimpered a little bit.

But in your search, you found nothing amiss. Nothing that screamed bad bad bad besides being trapped here with an ultimatum. As Sam and Bucky complimented their surroundings, you held your breath.

Yes, everything was beautiful. Yes, you could probably sweet talk your way out of here. But the fact remained that half of you, screaming and kicking, wanted revenge.

Revenge that could taint your soul, as loss has frozen your heart.

The other half was entirely with Sam and Bucky, thinking about ways to escape. To gain alternate answers.

The rooms merged into one image in your mind, blurring at the sides and calling your name. Nothing seemed original and glorious anymore.

You had to lie down.

“Okay, so here’s what I think we should do,” Bucky began, instantly falling into Avenger mode. Numbers passing by his vision, plans ABC sprouting as quick as their former. “Gods need to sleep too, right? So we wait until the palace and all its inhabitants go down for the night—”

“There are no windows, dumbass. How will we tell it's night?” Sam deadpanned.

“We’ll assume Hell functions like Earth. If it was night for us, then Hell has got to be—”

Without a word, you slam the door to your assigned room closed, and relish the silence.

Power surged through your veins, but you quickly buried it. The tingling at your fingertips, the tension in your spine—all quieted, like the many times you’ve done it before. The same power that emerged in 1527, the same power in 1864.

Not here. Not again.

You couldn’t risk bringing down this palace with loved ones on the other side of the door. You couldn’t risk it at all.

Sam pursed his lips as he stared at the massive wooden door you had just slammed in his face. Silence spread throughout the dark hallway, lightened only by the shuffling of Bucky’s feet. Donning a stunned expression, Sam watched as Bucky blinked and then turned to him.

Sam motioned him farther down the hall, if only to give you the privacy you wanted. When they entered the room assigned to him, Sam closed the door before he sighed, almost dramatically, “So, what base did you get to before being ripped into Hell?”

Bucky growled, flashing Sam his metal middle finger before flopping face-first onto the surprisingly soft mattress.

“Tell me you at least got to first.”

Bucky grumbled into the sheets, his words unintelligible.

Sam nodded at nothing. He casted bored glances around the room, surveying even the smallest details all over again. It didn’t sit right with him that you were all separated and put onto a nearly abandoned floor. Sure, there were servants cleaning adjacent rooms and mumbling down the halls, but it was vacant nonetheless.

Later, he promised. Later he would venture out into the hallways and gain as much gossip as he could.

“I’ll scout the place later, then—”

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky demanded, moving onto his back.

Sam shook his head. “This dinner isn’t going to go smoothly. I can feel it. You stay here afterwards to see if Shortcake is alright.”

Bucky grumbled again, “You are not going alone.”

“She shouldn’t be left alone, Buck. Hades practically blamed all this on her. Guilt is eating at her. You know it.”

Bucky’s face contorted with pure sympathy. “Then we share the guilt. It’s not our fault, but we played a role nonetheless.” Then, Bucky paused, shooting Sam a good-natured glare. “Do not leave your room at night without me or her.”

Sam forced a neutral expression as he lied, “Okay. I won’t.”

If the throne room was grand, then the dining hall was extraordinary. A place for royalty. Fucking Beauty and the Beast ass shit, Sam marveled.

He has eaten in the wondrous fields and dining halls of Wakanda, thinking nothing could possibly top it.

But this.

Sam had to remind himself he was in another realm, and perhaps his eyes saw things as extra. His human eyes.

He was the only human without enhanced abilities here.

He was fully human, and in Hell.

“Glad you three can make it.”

Hades stunned in a black-on-black suit, nonchalant in his chair and already chewing a piece of cured meat. The water sprite sat at the corner near him, delighting in fruit herself. Where the food went, Sam didn’t know. He could vaguely see the food pass through her throat and downwards, but that was it.

Sam looked at the two people beside him. At Bucky, who had changed nothing of his appearance but removing his gloves. And his Shortcake, who had thrown a shimmering black sweater on instead of keeping the old one. With the sweater, your stone face with a heavy frown, Sam would have guessed the Underworld was a second home to you.

“You want us to eat food down here?” you chuckle, humor lacking. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

Hades paused chewing, his smile growing and stretching as he laughed for real. “That stingy little trick was abolished centuries ago. I couldn’t entertain and have that trick hanging over everyone’s heads, could I?”

Sam’s high school knowledge clicked then.

Persephone and the pomegranate. But Sam sees no women besides the golden-haired beauty and the water sprite. No other woman who could pass for Persephone—not the servants, not the short–time visitors he saw sneaking in through the kitchens. No one.

“Swear it on your Immortal life that if we eat your food, we are not trapped here.”

Hades rolled his eyes but promised, “The food is not enchanted. I can even send a messenger to pick-up human food and bring it back.”

So it is possible to realm hop, just as Maxwell described. Where the green-eyed sonofabitch was hiding, Sam couldn’t tell.

Bucky stepped forward, surveying the grand table and every platter before it. Meats, potatoes, soups, vegetables and fruit, desserts. Every plate had its own burner, its own section.

A literal meal for royalty.

Bucky picked up an apple, throwing it in the air as he said, “We won’t help you if we don’t get something in return.”

Hades smirked. “Besides free range of my palace, my training facilities, my expertise, and my food?” Bucky was better at scowls, so Sam let him give Hades his best one. “I see. Right to the point.”

Sam asked, “What do we get out of this?”

“Besides revenge?”

“Something more.”

Hades quieted for a moment. He glanced at Elva, then to the water sprite beside him, who was munching her cured meat happily. “What do you want?”

Sam thought hard about it. To bargain with the Devil…His Christian mother must be turning over in her grave. Or rolling in the river just outside the palace walls. Sam shook the thought from his head.

So he kept it simple, stopping himself from asking for too much, too fast. “I want revenge, of course. But I want to be able to send my family a message that I’m alright.”

Hades hummed. “A letter system—Got it. Anything else?”

“I want to kill the bitch responsible for what I went through,” Bucky declared, then took his first bite of the red apple. You flinched beside him, your hands clenched into fists, as if ready to knock the fruit from his hands. But as Bucky chewed, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. He swallowed, waited a second, like his mind was wired to yours, and bit into it again.

“That would be Clotho, then. That can be arranged.” Hades turned to you, something devilish flashing in his dark blue eyes. “You?”

You paused, your jaw ticking. “Lachesis is the one who measured Ari’s life?”

Hades threw a grape into the air, ignoring the soft but irked pats from the water sprite, no doubt chastising him for being so careless in a conversation like this. Hades caught the grape in his mouth. “She is the one.”

“The one who measured my life?”

“The very one.”

Sam marked the way you huffed and finally pulled out a seat, four seats away from the God of the Dead himself. “Then I will kill her if you give me my choice back.”

“A cure for magical infertility,” Hades pondered, even if it wasn’t a question. Sam speculated the ways the God could have possibly known that, but that was just it—the God. “You have free use of my library. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“That simple?”

Hades gave a tilt of the head. “Did you expect a fight?”

“The God of the Underworld kidnaps us and there isn’t one? Seems a little suspicious to me,” Bucky snorted, reaching over to fill his plate. All the while being heavily scrutinized by the golden warrior studying him. Or…maybe what shone in Elva’s eyes was restrained amusement.

Bucky placed his plate down gently on the placemat made entirely from what looked like real gold, and took the seat beside you. Then pushed his plate gently between the two of you, offering to share.

Hades grunted, lifting his wine glass to his lips. “Those crones have pissed me off for centuries.”

Sam, the last one to relent and sit at the grand table, suggested,“Why not kill them yourself?”

Another eye roll from the great God. “I cannot kill my own Fates. And anyone cursed by them cannot kill them either.”

Sam turned his head in time to see Elva sneer and look down at her feet. It bothered him greatly that she was not given a plate, let alone a seat. Just left standing, her hand on the hilt of her silver sword, watching.

“Is Shortcake not cursed?” Sam asked.

Hades shook his head. “Her grandmother cursed her. The Fates simply found it reasonable and let it slide.”

“My grandmother. The Elementalist who could summon the dead. How does that make sense—her making me live.”

Shrugging, Hades took a long sip from his glass. “Immortality brought about a lot of death for you, didn’t it?”

Bucky grimaced, lifting his own wine glass. Sam was thankful as he changed the subject. “Where’s crone number one?”

“Clotho is our spinner. She spins the thread of human fate, and decides where you go from there. I’d say she’s hiding out on the icy plains of Cocytus.”

“There’s ice in Hell?” Sam asked. He risked taking a bite of the bread, noticing how you still hadn’t eaten a single thing.

Hades narrowed his eyes in response. “And trees, if you’re curious.”

To that, you lifted your head to him. “Where?”

Hades grinned, knowing he struck the correct cord. “My gardens are also free range.”

For a long minute, no one spoke. The water sprite chewed her food happily, smiling up at Hades as he smiled down at her. Sam watched every exchange—when Bucky buttered a piece of bread and handed it to you, mumbling that if he was destined to be stuck down here why not get you trapped here as well, which earned him a soft chuckle.

Sam also noticed the golden warrior studying him, her own grand posture causing him to straighten.

“I did not mean to trap you three in my world,” Hades muttered. “But I saw how you handled the demon. How you dealt with Maxwell, that insufferable idiot. Even Wenrel here was mad at him, and she’s never mad at him.”

At that, the water sprite hid her small face in her transparent hands.

“I am at a loss. The only Gods who will aid me in this are Hermes and Hecate. But they are Gods, their power only stretching so far when it comes to the Fates.”

“These literal Gods aren’t fighters?” you deadpanned.

Hades shook his head. “You don’t have to be a fighter to be a God and you don’t have to be a God to be a fighter.”

“We barely held down a demon,” Sam explained. “You expect us to hold the Moirai?”

“I think you three expect so little of what you can actually do.”

“Do not speak like the Crones, Hades,” Elva ordered. Sam braced himself for the God’s reprimand, for his hand to swing backward and strike her—anything that gave Sam a reason to leap over this table and twist his neck. But Hades did nothing of the sort. He regarded the warrior with a gentle smirk and a wave of his hand. A friendly wave, one contradicting the chains around her wrists and the seriousness of her face.

“Elva will also offer her sword. And teach you three how to wield your own.”

“So a bullet won’t do?” Bucky joked, swishing his wine around.

“Mortal instruments are not key here, Soldier. As with demons, we kill our own with our own,” Elva clarified.

No nickname for Bucky, my ass.

“And you’ll have the aid of Maxwell, Wenrel, and myself. Don’t you worry.” Hades mocked a bow the best he could sitting down.

This was all too crazy. Sam remembers the stories Steve shared that one week of calm after bringing everyone back—of how he visited space, another planet. Sam had joked that Steve had finally seen the whole world. That nothing could possibly live up to the bright colors of space jumping.

But here Sam was, trapped yet welcomed in the realm of middle school curiosity. Of mythology kids picked up for a few months, reveled in, then moved on from. In a realm of fantasy, even if his life proved anything but.

Thor is a Norse God. Loki, too. Sam shouldn’t be surprised he’s had a run-in with yet another God. Except this one needs his help.

Sam isn’t big on ego, but this is boosting his a Hell of a lot. Pun intended.

“For now,” Hades stood, buttoning his suit jacket. “Get some rest. You wake early tomorrow.”

A knock on the door stirred you from your thoughts. You’ve been seated on the red velvet chair, looking at yourself in the mirror for however long it took to make your back strain. In Tenochtitlan, you had your own in your sitting room. One where your maids brushed your hair and adorned you with jewels. Then another during your limited stay at Versailles, but the glass wasn’t as impressive. The jewels were, however. This one, with its fine metal work and reflection dusted in glitter, outranked them all.

Brushing through your hair, you cleared your throat. “Come in.”

Bucky entered, smiling shyly. He came to sit beside you, his scooting narrowly throwing you off the chair itself until he gripped your hips and placed you on his lap. You were nearer his knee, but the sensation was all the same. With a small gasp, you met his eyes in the mirror. Eyes that glimmered with the knowledge of what emotions he just caused.

Stealing one silk hair-tie from the beautiful, onyx bowl beside all the perfumes, Bucky moved to tie his hair back. A tight bun, but one that failed to catch the tendrils of hair in the front from falling forward and framing his face.

“I don’t know how to start apologizing,” you began, but Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Then don’t.”

You sighed, “This is all kinds of fucked up.”

“Are you worried he’s lying?”

You shrugged, sighing again when Bucky’s hands came up to run smoothly over your shoulders and back down. Over and over. “He mentioned other Gods. And yet, the myths aren’t real.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows scrunching.

“Where the fuck is Persephone? If Hermes and Hecate are real, if the myth of the pomegranate is real, then where is she?”

Bucky grumbled, “Don’t even, for one second, think that you are Persephone.”

“My power involves life.”

“Yeah, and your literal soulmate was a human. If your fate was to be the Goddess of Spring, why did the Fates fuck with you at all?”

Bucky made a valid point. You know you’re an Elementalist—a being able to control one or many natural elements in the world, even those not classified as such. You know you’re a Mutant—a being born with a genetic mutation that was the sole reason for such power, hunted by demons themselves. You know you’re Mother Nature—yet another myth who’s sole purpose was to shape the Earth.

But Hades did call you a God. And Thor did compare you to other Gods who wielded similar power. Being the Goddess of Spring would be the cherry on top—but you’ve never quite liked cherries.

“I can’t produce offspring so we know I’m not Demeter, either.”

Bucky shuddered, and your laugh vibrated from your back into his chest. “Don’t—” Bucky laughed. “Don’t even suggest that.”

Your laugh only grew. You turned your face to him, your lips only centimeters apart. “What if I’m just not a Greek God?”

Bucky glanced down at the small space, his breath hitching the slightest bit. “That would make sense. You’re not Greek.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked down at Bucky’s lips as well. Such perfect, pink miracles.

Six months. You’ve deprived yourself of Bucky’s taste for six months. For good reason, for a healthy and valid reason, but still. Now those sugar-spun lips were parting, and his hot breath mingled with yours, and your room wasn’t even that close to Sam’s—

A splash of water sounded from the door, slapping against the floor rapidly.

“Oh! Almost there, almost there—and!—Whoo!”

Wenrel, the water sprite, had shimmied her way underneath the crack of the door. Both you and Bucky turned, wide-eyed and confused.

Wenrel stood, all six inches of her, and placed her hands on her hips. Her glittering dress moved in the same direction as her hair, floating and curling. “The handsome one was not in his room so I decided to check in here.”

Bucky blushed, his lips twitching with the threat of a smile. “Uh, yeah. I’m in here.”

Wenrel skipped and shortened the distance between you, hopping onto a nearby chair, then leaped and pulled herself onto the dresser. There she sat on the overturned brush you were just using, crossing her legs as she leaned back on her hands, and smiled.

“I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the handsome one.”

Your grin widened. “Sam?”

“Ouch?” Bucky feigned offense.

Wenrel giggled. “Sam…the handsome one! You are the gorgeous one, Soldier.”

Bucky smiled truly now. “That’s better.”

“Wait,” you paused, blinking. “Sam isn’t in his room?”

Wenrel shook her head, and as she did small droplets of water sprung free and evaporated mid-air. “He went exploring, it seems.”

Bucky scoffed, already moving you off his lap so he could stand. “Mr. ‘I’m afraid of ghosts’, went exploring?”

“Probably for entrances and exits,” Wenrel divulged, her tone similar to those telling ghost stories. She giggled again as she witnessed Bucky puffing his chest. You blinked down at her, cocking an eyebrow. She giggled at you, too.

“Only entrance and exit he’s about to know is my foot entering his ass and exiting his mouth.”

With that, Bucky unhooked the gun from the back of his belt and removed the safety. You didn’t even know he had it on him.

“C’mon, Goddess,” Bucky urged, throwing open the bedroom door. The nickname wasn’t out of spite or jokes. Bucky said it like he had all the others—with the absolute intention of making your knees weak. Wenrel hopped onto your shoulder and made herself at home.

“We’ve got birdling to catch.”

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