AHHHH ETHEREAL OMEGA BUCKY AND UBER ALPHA STEVE YES YES YES!! LOVE THIS IDEA I NEED MORE 🤍
Bucky blinks up at what he can only assume is an angel.
The fear that’s crippled his nervous system melts from his body so quickly his only choice is to sob in relief as he collapses back down to the porch beneath him, limbs and lips trembling. Comfort he’s never once in his life felt takes fears place, unwavering and strong, much like the man that stands above him.
Bucky’s eyelids are heavy as he peels his eyes open, determined to take in his savior as his chest heaves with what feels like his very last breaths.
Even half-alive and unable to stand or defend himself any further, Bucky feels his tummy fill with butterflies, his core heating up with molten arousal.
“Now…what do we have here?”
Oh, but if Bucky could muster the strength he’d roll right over onto his back and show his new Alpha his belly.
Beard somewhat unkempt yet dashing, shoulders broad enough to completely block out anything else from Bucky’s view, his guardian squats down in front of him to get a better look at what is surely a pitiful sight. The Alpha is a behemoth of a man, Bucky certain his own thigh isn’t even as big as his stranger’s bicep.
He can see thick chest hair through his swollen eyes, a patch of dark hair peeking through the flannel stretched across the man’s chest. Bucky’s mouth waters hopefully at the thought of it continuing further south.
What he’s most distracted by, taken aback by, is the man’s eyes.
Kind. Experienced. As blue as the sky above if it weren’t for the overcast day.
“You look like you need help, sweetheart,” the Alpha purrs softly, smiling just a gently. “Can tell by the smell’a ya that you’re special. These bad men out here in my woods after you?”
All Bucky can do is whimper from his curled up spot behind a porch swing.
The Alpha clicks his tongue. “That just won’t do, now will it? Why don’t we get you inside and I’ll take care’a them for you?”
Bucky knows this man speaks nothing but the truth; he can smell his anger and almost taste his vengeance, both emotions that Bucky can’t see on his face. He’s in control, well-balanced— that’s good. But when the stranger reaches his hand out, Bucky flinches.
“Ah, I’m sorry, sugar. My name is Steve. I’m not sure what’s goin’ on or what you’ve been through, but I can give you my word I won’t do nothin’ to harm you. I promise you can trust me.”
His angel’s name is Steve.
Bucky only hesitates two seconds before reaching out for that strong warm hand and allowing for it to pull him up to his knees. It hurts to move, everywhere, his feet and his knees cut up from tripping and falling along the forest floor.
“That’s good, honey— take your time.”
Steve shifts behind him to keep him out of sight and to be there to hold him steady. His hands hover around Bucky, only touching when necessary and never for long.
Bucky can’t remember the last time he was given such respect.
When Bucky hears the door close and latch behind him, when his nostril fills with the warm comfort of a home, his body and mind feel safe enough to finally collapse.
