#g's post

Bucky and Steve were an unusual pair of soulmates. They met when they were young children, which isn’t so uncommon, but it quickly became clear that the colors they could suddenly see when they first made contact with each other were wrong. Upon meeting one’s soulmate, one’s world turns from black and white to color, but for some reason, there were some colors that Bucky and Steve just couldn’t see. The whole first half of the visible light spectrum, from red through yellow, was invisible, making anything that contained those colors… off. It took them a little while to realize this, as they were so close to one another and their lives were so intertwined. But when Steve couldn’t see one of the main colors of his shield and uniform, one of the main colors on the flag he was meant to represent… that was weird. And Bucky couldn’t see the hue of the star emblazoned on his metal arm, or either of the colors of the Soviet flag under which he served as the Winter Soldier, which was honestly somewhat of a blessing. But nobody knew why until they joined the Avengers.

Everyone had been chatting and having a wonderful time at a party, when it suddenly became obvious to everyone that something about Steve’s vision was wrong. Bucky’s too. Neither of them could see the color of Thor’s cape, or Tony’s suits. They were definitely soulmates; when they had touched, color came into their lives. That is precisely what’s supposed to happen, but it didn’t happen quite right.

Bruce began to formulate a theory and asked Steve to stop by his lab later, when they were both sober. Bucky too if he wanted, but the former assassin was reticent. He rarely interacted with the others that weren’t Steve unless absolutely necessary.

So the next day, Steve went to Bruce’s lab, where he was orientating someone in deep maroon scrubs that to Steve appeared a dark gray. It happened to be you, Bruce’s new lab assistant.

Bruce explained his theory to Steve, that he couldn’t see the first half of the visible light spectrum because only some of his cones had been activated. What happened when people touched their soulmates for the first time was that the cones in their eyes became activated to perceive color, whereas before only the rods worked and could perceive shape, form, distance, etc. Bruce ran several vision tests, and his theory proved correct. What he still didn’t understand was why?

“It’s nothing to do with your eye. Everything about your eye function is normal.” Bruce was pacing the length of the lab, frustrated and intrigued by this challenge.

“If I may, Dr. Banner,” you spoke up. You had been dutifully filling out paperwork concerning your hiring in the corner the whole morning, and when you were done, you had sat and waited for instruction that never came. So you took this moment to interject. “Might my dissertation research help in this scenario?”

Bruce’s eyes widened in realization. “Yes! Yes, possibly. Please, draw some blood.”

You had written your masters dissertation on the existence of a string of genetic code that you called the soulmate gene. The gene coded to tell the eye when to activate the cones. The biology of soulmates fascinated you, especially since you hadn’t met yours yet. Your theories were groundbreaking, but you still hadn’t pinpointed what about contact with one’s soulmate managed to activate the gene. All your thesis did was transfer responsibility of the mystery from one part of the body to another; from the cones directly, as had been the prevailing theory, to the genetic sequence you discovered.

You could analyze DNA from any type of sample, but blood was the purest and least likely to break down under your equipment. So you began to pull out the materials to extract a few vials of Steve’s blood.

“I’m just fascinated by your case, Captain Rogers,” you said cheerfully as you slipped on your latex gloves. “Perhaps your situation will provide insight to my research.”

“Please, call me Steve,” he insisted warmly. “What’s your research on?”

You began to explain, partly as distraction for Steve from the pain of the needle and the extraction. As you told your story, he couldn’t help thinking that you were the most brilliant and well-spoken woman he had ever met. He found you absolutely beautiful too, with the voice of an angel. He blushed, admonishing himself for this line of thinking. He was gay, in a relationship with Bucky, and happily so.

When he and Bucky were kids, there was a pushback against gay soulmate couples. It was commonly accepted that those couples were all platonic soulmates, and all heterosexual soulmate pairs were romantic. This was simply not the case and never has been. There are platonic and romantic soulmate pairs of every combination, especially since gender isn’t binary. Steve and Bucky always danced around the sexual and romantic attraction as kids, publicly subscribing to the narrative that they were platonic soulmates and nothing more. But when they both found themselves in the 21st century in the United States, where gay marriage had very recently been legalized, they finally got to live the life they never dared to dream of as kids. One where they could touch each other and be together in every sense of the word.

Back in the day, it was easy for both Steve and Bucky to accept that they would each marry a woman and remain platonic soulmates forever. They were both attracted to women, after all. At least they thought they were. They were able to convince themselves that they weren’t attracted to men, and when they admitted their feelings to each other, they then convinced themselves the reverse— that they had only thought they were attracted to women due to compulsory heteronormativity and all that. But neither could help the nagging feeling that they really did find women quite… appealing.

“All done!” you chirped, and Steve was pulled out of his reverie. You placed the last vial in the holding rack, pulled the needle from Steve’s skin, wiped an alcohol swab over the injection site, and then covered it with an Iron Man band-aid. Steve couldn’t help but notice how gentle and pleasant your touch was, even through the latex gloves.

Behind you, Bruce was already setting to work putting the samples into the equipment and isolating the genetic sequence responsible for activating the cones. Bruce squinted at the screen. “How curious. You seem to have the sequence duplicated. One copy of the sequence has been activated, the other hasn’t.”

“Curious indeed…” you agreed, glancing over Bruce’s shoulder as you pulled your gloves off.

As Steve rolled down his sleeve and Bruce continued staring at the projection on the screen, you admonished yourself. “I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve been so rude! I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I know who you are, obviously.” You reached out your hand cordially, and he accepted it.

A trio of gasps echoed through the lab.

“Your scrubs!” Steve exclaimed. His eyes darted around the room. Everything was brighter, and nothing was in grayscale anymore. Except, of course, things that were actually black or white or gray.

“My scrubs!” you repeated his astonished exclamation in an equally astonished tone. “And your hair!” It seemed that while before, Steve and Bucky couldn’t see red, orange and yellow, you could now only see red, orange and yellow or variations thereupon. Most things, including Steve’s eyes, remained in shades of gray.

“The DNA!” Bruce shouted, pointing at the screen. You dashed over to see what he was looking at. “It changed! The second sequence got activated!”

Your face scrunched up in concentration that Steve found remarkably endearing. “Fascinating! The DNA was disconnected from the body and yet it still changed upon contact! What must that mean about its make-up?”

You and Bruce were focused on the screen, but Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. He could finally see you in all your glory, in full technicolor, and that rendered you even more stunning than before in his view.

“So I have two soulmates?” Steve came up behind the pair of you scientists and placed his hand on your back. Even through your scrubs, a shiver ran down your spine at the contact and proximity.

“I guess so,” Bruce responded.

Steve looked down at you adoringly, then his brow furrowed as a thought came to him. “Can you see all the colors, Y/n?”

You shook your head. “Inverse to you, I think. I can only see the first half of the visible spectrum.”

Steve’s expression lit up as something clicked in his head. He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door, shouting, “Come on!”

You glanced back at Bruce apologetically, but he just chuckled and shrugged at you. “Guess you’re taking your lunch break a little early.”

Steve dragged you down the hall and up two flights of stairs. By the time you stopped in front of one of the doors on the residence floor, you were out of breath. “Steve, what’s going on?”

Instead of responding, he pounded furiously on the door and yelled, “Open up, punk!”

You heard lethargic groaning and the shuffling of slippers across hardwood. Bucky opened the door, clearly miffed at being disturbed in the middle of a nap and snapped, “What?” When he noticed you, he straightened up and tried to smooth down his hair a little, not quite sure why he should care about his appearance in front of this random, admittedly very pretty stranger, but absolutely, definitely caring.

You were too transfixed by the magnificent streaks of gold running down his left arm, the Wakandan prosthetic replacement for his original Hydra-issued limb. You reached out to trace the shimmering veins with your fingertips, absolutely hypnotized at the dazzling hue that was completely novel to you.

While Bucky would normally jerk away from physical contact with anyone but Steve, especially with his fake arm, he found himself leaning into your touch. While not his own skin and not containing any of his DNA, the arm was programmed with artificial nerve endings his brain couldn’t differentiate from real ones, and he shivered at your feather-light touches.

Steve was watching the interaction with pride blooming in his chest. How Bucky wasn’t shying away from you but was in fact relaxing in your presence, how the infectious curiosity he had already come to love in you was painting an expression on your face he could only describe as ethereal.

Bucky met the gaze of his best friend and lover with a million questions in his eyes. “Touch her,” Steve whispered, reaching for his partner’s right hand and placing it for him over your cheek.

You closed your eyes and hummed at the pleasant sensation that rippled through your being as his callused palm met your cheek. It was the same rush of euphoria through your veins as occurred when you shook Steve’s hand, only somehow even more… satisfying.

You heard a gasp above you, and Bucky’s deep voice murmuring, “Your hair…” His vibranium arm extracted itself from where your fingers were still grazing over his biceps and he ran his metal fingers through Steve’s golden locks.

You opened your eyes and gave a gasp yourself, reaching up to cradle Bucky’s stubbly cheek. “Your eyes…” They were a brilliant light blue dappled with the gray you were so used to painting your entire world. It had signified loneliness for so long, but rippling through the dazzling cerulean in Bucky’s irises, the gray took on a new meaning: completeness.

Bucky chuckled and leaned into your palm. “You think my eyes are pretty, try Stevie’s.” He spun you around, resting both hands on your hips. The cool of the metal on one side and the warmth of his skin on the other seeped through your thin scrubs deliciously.

Steve’s eyes were indeed glorious, equally to Bucky’s but no more so in your opinion. They were also bright blue, though slightly darker, and instead of streaks of gray, they were speckled with bits of green.

When you twisted your head to look back at Bucky, tears were spilling from his eyes but his smile was wide as he gazed in adoration at his boyfriend. “We found our missing piece,” he whispered.

Steve nodded, placing his hands over Bucky’s on your hips. “It’s us three now. Together.” Steve looked down at you with concern and worry tainting the beauty of his face. “If that’s what you want?”

Instead of answering, you reached up on your tippy toes to place a soft kiss on his lips, then turned to bestow the same honor upon Bucky. A blissful smile spread across each of their lips as you pulled away from them.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” you directed at Bucky, giggling.

He blushed, realizing he was totally ready to get down on his knees and profess his undying love for you, but he hadn’t even considered asking your name.

“James. Bucky,” he responded.

You giggled again. “I know.”

Deciding to sleep with Bucky was easy. It just felt so right in that moment, with the way he was looking at you, and knowing he must have been saying sweet things about you to the hot chocolate man. Telling him was easy, too. You took an opening that presented itself. It was smooth and suave and a little bit sexy of you, if you do say so yourself.

The drive home was significantly less sexy and much more awkward. You were both nervous and excited by the prospect of finally seeing each other and touching each other, and all that nervous energy was compressed in the vehicle like air in a balloon— nowhere to go.

Bucky’s left leg was bouncing as he drove. You kept crossing and uncrossing your legs, acutely aware of your vag the whole time. Not aroused yet, just… aware. It was a weird feeling.

Bucky’s hand absent-mindedly made its way to your thigh and his thumb started rubbing back and forth, and you just stared at it. Then he stared at it until he had to tear his hand and his eyes away before you crashed.

All in all, not the most comfortable drive you’d taken together.

The walk into the building and wait for the elevator were equally uncomfy.

“Your room or mine?” Bucky finally asked as you both stepped into the lift.

“Ummm… yours I guess. If you don’t mind. Since I’ll be shut up in mine for so long,” you replied.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” He hit the button for his floor, perhaps a little too hastily.

Bucky opened his door and ushered you inside. After closing the door, he stood behind you, twiddling his thumbs and not knowing what to do next. “So, um, welcome to my bedroom.”

You giggled at how awkward he was being, and how cute that was. “Yeah, Buck, I’ve been here before.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled.

You started to unzip the puffy coat you were wearing, all the layers entirely too much. At the sound of your zipper, Bucky practically pounced on you to help.

“Here let me…” He yanked the coat off your shoulders and draped it over a chair.

You had so many layers on that it took a while to get down to your long-sleeve turtle-neck and thermal leggings. Once finally there, Bucky knelt to help you peel your top off, peppering kisses to your stomach as he lifted the shirt higher until it was finally discarded onto the mountain of outerwear. He did the same as he pulled the leggings down, kissing your hip just above your panties and down the outside of your leg, little pecks that left goosebumps in their wake.

“This feels unfair,” you complained jokingly. You were down to your underwear and bra, while he still had on his flannel, shirt and jeans. Only his shoes had come off thus far.

Immediately he began to yank his flannel off, getting tangled in the sleeves in all his eagerness. You giggled at him, and it helped to alleviate some of the tension in the room. He pulled at the back of his shirt to whip it off, and you knew he was buff but hot damn. You reached out to run your fingers lightly over his middle, pressing into the thin layer of fat and skin and easily finding his defined abdominal muscles underneath. He closed his eyes and reveled in your touch, your fingertips causing tingles to erupt wherever you brushed them.

Still lovingly stroking his lower torso, you took a step in and pressed light kisses to his left pec and down his side, brushing your lips to his skin in feather-light touches just like he had done to you. Your lips traveled down then back up until they reached the junction where the flesh of his shoulder met his vibranium arm. The skin was puckered and angry, and it made your blood boil and your heart ache to think about how he got those scars. Bucky’s eyes flew open, and he misinterpreted your protective concern with discomfort, shoving his arm behind his back on instinct.

But you just looked up at him through your lashes, reached behind him to lace your fingers with his metal ones and drew his arm back to his side, all the while peppering delicate kisses to the marred skin of his shoulder.

When you began to draw your lips down onto the cool metal of his bicep, he cupped your cheek in his right hand and pulled your face up to meet his. You had to lean up on your tip-toes and hook the fingers of your free hand into his belt loop for balance.

This kiss was different than the ones you had shared at the ice rink. It was deeper, more passionate, but still infused with bounteous affection. He extracted his left hand from your grip to grasp the back of your neck and pull you closer to him, though there wasn’t much distance left to go. When you finally disconnected, severely breathless, Bucky took barely any break for air himself, latching his lips immediately onto the side of your neck.

Suddenly you were being lifted off the ground, and you yelped at the surprise. He placed you delicately down onto the bed and hovered over you a moment, just taking you in.

A smile spread across his face, and it triggered one to twitch your own lips wider. “What?” you asked with a giggle.

His grin grew broader. “I just can’t believe you’re so beautiful,” he replied. You couldn’t help but blush and turn your head to avoid his intense and loving gaze. He took advantage of the shift to trail more kisses on the exposed side of your neck, before murmuring into your collarbone, “And all mine.”

This caused you to stiffen beneath him, and the shift in mood was palpable. Bucky pulled away immediately. “What? What’s wrong?”

You looked him in the eye. “You know how I feel about being the possession of an alpha.”

Bucky rolled off of you and sat up against the headboard with a sigh. You followed. He took your hand and brought it into his lap, fiddling with your fingers absent-mindedly.

“We should talk about that. Because—especially in my rut—I’m going to call you ‘mine.’” You opened your mouth to object, but he looked up beseechingly and said, “Can I finish my whole thought and then you can respond?”

You closed your mouth and nodded.

“When I say you’re mine…” Bucky chewed his lip as he considered his next words carefully, but then they came spilling out of him like a faucet. “I’m yours too. Or at least, I want to be. And not just your alpha or your mate or your boyfriend or whatever. I want to be your… person. The person you go to for… protection, and comfort, and fun, and… because you’re excited to share something and just because you want company and…” He huffed out a breath, unsure how to continue. He could keep going down that path forever and never reach the end. He wanted to be your everything.

“You are,” you said softly. He looked at you hopefully. “You already are those things,” you repeated. “I just…”

Encouraged by your affirmations, Bucky turned to face you more, tucking one leg under himself to achieve the correct angle. “You have my heart, Y/n. You do. You have all of it.”

“I hope you saved some for Stevie,” you joked with a slight smirk, bumping his shoulder with yours.

He huffed out a short laugh. “It’s metaphorical, you goof,” he replied, his own smirk small but present before disappearing again to make way for his serious face. As he continued he spoke faster and faster, desperate to make his point before you shut him out. “And that’s just it, I guess. I don’t want to own you literally, which, if we mated, I would, legally, and I agree that’s stupid. And I’ll fight by your side the rest of our lives for you to not literally be my property. But I do want you to be… mine. My partner, my mate…my omega because you’re already all those other things. Those things I said. You’re my person, Y/n. And… I love you.”

You had tears in your eyes now, and the hand not being held firmly between Bucky’s was shaking at your side.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

The laugh he responded with was tearful and triumphant. He grabbed your other hand and brought them both to his lips before concluding, “Neither of us belongs to the other, no matter what we do. But we do belong together. We belong with each other.”

“It’s not about possession… it’s about belonging…” You spoke it aloud even as you realized it, in the selfsame moment.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. He pulled you into his lap and gripped your face between his hands, stroking your cheekbones. “Exactly,” he repeated in a reverent whisper.

Bucky wasn’t Gollum, hiding you in a cave from the rest of the world and squealing, ‘My preciousssss.’ He was just a big softy, giving you a Valentine’s Day candy heart reading, ‘Be mine.’ It was as simple as that, and even though you let yourself get carried away in vehement rejection of all the societal bullshit sometimes, you wanted that too. That intimacy and that surety and that commitment.

You leaned in to kiss him on the lips, slowly and softly. “Make me yours then,” you whispered.

You felt his smile against your lips. He flipped you under him, making you squeal at the surprise shift.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, down and down and down.

You arched up so he could unclip your bra and toss it somewhere behind him.

It was downright sinful the way he maintained perfect eye contact with his searing, crystalline blue eyes as he licked a delicate circle around your nipple. Only when he closed his lips around it did he finally let his eyes flutter shut and with a harsh suck let out a satisfied moan. He did the same with the other one, then began to move lower again. He knew he would lavish lots of attention on your breasts in the future, maybe even later tonight, but right now he was impatient to taste you.

Joy bloomed in his chest when he reminded himself that he had his entire life to play with your beautiful tits.

So down he went. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and yanked it down your legs. You vaguely heard the sound of seam tearing in his haste, but you couldn’t possibly care less in that moment because Bucky was gawking at your pussy like it was the god damn Mona Lisa.

He glanced up at you and kissed the inside of your thigh. “You wanna know something?” he murmured, running his knuckles lightly and lazily along your lower lips. You could feel his warm breath on your core as you hummed a distracted affirmative. “As True Mates, we’re hyper sensitive to each other’s scent, right? But with my enhanced senses, I can also smell whenever you get…” He gave one teasing kitten lick to your clit through the fabric. “Excited to see me.”

“Really?” you breathed, not fully processing what he was saying, too lost in the way his right pointer finger was slowly circling your clit now.

“Mmhm,” he confirmed. “Nearly dropped a kettle bell on my foot this morning at how good you smelled.” He smirked up at you. “I could smell you ogling me work out, doll face.”

You blushed deeply and brought your hands up to cover your face. You had indeed been admiring him in the gym that morning, but who could blame you? After his run, he had shed his sweat-stained t-shirt and completed the rest of his exercise routine with all of his glorious muscles on display.

The stimulation of your clit ceased abruptly and you peeked through your hands to discover the cause, only to have them pulled away from your face entirely. Bucky was hovering over you again, frowning. “Don’t you ever hide from me, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You shouldn’t find it so attractive that he was giving you orders, but your body didn’t care about that kind of logic, and additional slick leaked out of you at his commanding tone of voice. True to his word, his nostrils flared at your surge of arousal and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He launched himself down, parting your thighs further for him to slot his face between, and dove into your core.

His first broad lick up your folds, with a tongue wide enough to encompass most of your cunt on its own, was such a foreign and pleasant sensation that you arched entirely off the bed with a gasp. He held you down by your hips and lapped again, moaning obscenely.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You taste so much better than you smell, darlin’,” before beginning to eat you out in earnest. His tongue flitted and fluttered over your clit with dizzying speed, and if it weren’t for his strong grip on your hips, you would be writhing around like someone possessed. He gave a strong, vacuum-like suck to your clit that made more wetness flow out of you, and he immediately probed his tongue deep into your entrance to taste your essence from the source. He moaned again, sending tantalizing vibrations through your core. His tongue was forceful and long as he fucked you with it.

He replaced his tongue with two thick fingers and brought his tongue back to your clit, randomly alternating his licks between soft and hard pressure, long strokes and little flicks, every once in a while wrapping his lips around and giving a suck. His fingers pumping in and out felt like heaven, and once he curved his fingers up and stroked your upper walls, you were done. You came apart with a scream.

After helping you through your high with loving strokes and gentle murmurs of how good you were for him, he crawled up your body, slotting himself between your legs.

As desperately as he wanted to be inside you, there was one more piece of business you needed to attend to first, as a couple. When he felt you were cognizant enough to answer, Bucky looked deep into your eyes and asked, “Do you want me to bite you now or when you’re on your heat, sweetheart?”

You were taken aback by the question. You hadn’t really thought about it. “Um…”

“It’s gotta be one, because if I don’t bite you now, I will bite you then. I won’t be able to stop myself,” he said.

You hesitated, and he brought your hand up to caress his own scent gland. “Remember what we said, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m yours as much as you are mine. I want you to bite me too.”

You smiled at that. It wasn’t uncommon for an omega to bite their alpha, but it wasn’t traditional either. It didn’t surprise you that Bucky was that modern, that committed to you, but it was nice to hear.

“If I bite you now,” he continued, “you’ll be cognizant of it. It’ll be our choice. But biologically, the bond would be stronger if it’s done on your heat.”

That was something you read somewhere, and it had troubled you. Bonds established when omegas and alphas are at their most vulnerable, their most animalistic, were somehow more potent than those made by people making rational decisions based on emotion and connection. The concept was concerning, but if you made the decision now, while you were aware and awake and sensible, then perhaps there was no harm in waiting for the opportunity to let the bond be as strong as it could possibly be.

So you smiled up at your alpha and murmured, “We can wait. I want to be as connected with you as possible.”

You were driving with Bucky, back from the post office and some other errands you had run. You liked running errands with Bucky; it felt domestic, wholesome. Since you had given up the prideful stubbornness that made you want to do all those activities alone, you very much enjoyed his company on these outings. You were just glad to get out of the compound every once in a while.

“So I think your heat’s coming super soon. As soon as tomorrow,” Bucky informed you from the driver’s seat.

You knew what he was getting at. You hadn’t agreed to sleep with him before your heat yet, and he needed to have your consent before it became the hormones talking.

You hummed your confirmation of hearing him, but didn’t respond, just gazed out of the passenger window.

He seemed relatively unfazed by your lack of response. Licking his lips, he added, “Whether you spend it holed up by yourself or with me, you’re going to be trapped in your room for a while.”

He didn’t even entertain the possibility that you’d get someone else to help you through it. He wasn’t as possessive or jealous as other alphas, that was true. He could bear to watch you dance with other people, even other alphas, but knowing someone else was helping you through your heat? Taking care of you and giving you pleasure? That might just kill him.

“So what do you say to going out tonight? We could do dinner and then something fun. Do you like ice skating?” he offered.

“I’m gonna spend a lot of time shut away from most people coming up, so can we do family dinner?” You looked up from your phone and smiled. “Then I would love to go ice skating with you.”

Bucky smiled and nodded but didn’t look at you, instead glancing into the rear view mirror before training his eyes back onto the road ahead. You hadn’t mentioned anything about spending your heat with him, but you also hadn’t said you would be spending it alone. ‘Most people’ rang out through his head on repeat the rest of the drive; a hopeful beacon.

As soon as you stepped into the compound, a wave of pleasant aromas assaulted your nose. Not the typical cocktail of pheromones emitted by the various alphas and omegas of the group, but herbs and spices and delicious things.

You turned to Bucky with a smile. “Smells like we picked a good day to have family dinner.”

The closer you got to the kitchen, the stronger the aromas became. In the kitchen, Wanda and Pietro were moving in perfect sync. Pietro was zipping around the small space at his super speed, somehow managing not to run into Wanda, probably because she was in his head.

Everything was laid out splendidly on the counter. Bucky went to reach for some kind of savory pastry puff, but found his hand being swatted away by a tendril of red energy.

“Don’t you dare, James Barnes!” Wanda hissed from her place at the stove.

Bucky put his hands up defensively and backed away. You pulled a seat for him at the table and bowed low and dramatically. He thanked you with a chuckle and a curtsy before settling in and looking expectantly at you.

But instead of sliding into the seat next to him, as he clearly anticipated, you walked around the table and plopped yourself down in the chair directly across from him. He looked a little shocked, but was pleasantly surprised when you tossed a wink his way.

Just then, Wanda piped up, “Ok so I know you just sat down, but can the two of you help me move stuff to the table?”

You scooched your chair out and called over your shoulder, “Sure thing, Wands!”

You grabbed the tray of puff things Bucky had tried to sample, while Bucky balanced a tray of meat on one hand, a tray of vegetables on the other, and a basket of bread in the crook of his vibranium elbow.

“Show off,” you muttered under your breath, knowing full well he could pick it up with his enhanced hearing. He smirked, and purposefully flexed his muscles in response.

“Why don’t you wanna sit next to me, doll?” he asked as you both set your dishes down on the table.

You shrugged. “I’d actually like to be able to smell the food the twins were nice enough to prepare,” you replied. “Be able to pay attention to my friends, you know.” You didn’t meet his eyes as you began distributing napkins to all the place settings.

Behind you, Bucky was grinning like an idiot. You had basically just admitted that his scent was so intoxicating to you that it overwhelmed even the delicious aromas of the feast being presented. That it was so distracting that it made you lose all sense of focus. That his mere proximity and the vague possibility of touch was enough to steal all of your attention.

He was thrilled he affected you as much as you affected him. Your scent was dizzying and incredible and even across the table, he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on much else.

Also at dinner with you, besides the twins and Bucky, were your parents, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint, Peter, Rhodey and Vision.

When everything was set out and everyone was seated, Pietro zipped to the head of the table and grandly announced, “Welcome to the best culinary experience of your life! A little taste of Sokovia, and also some stuff from internet recipes we thought sounded good. Bone app the teeth!”

Bucky was right that you were entirely too distracting for him to pay much attention to anyone else. But that was all right.  Bucky was never that talkative during these large group dinners anyway. In all honesty, he rarely attended them. Everyone was secretly grateful to you for being the reason he was opening up more and being more social, even if he was spending most of the meal gazing at you longingly.

It wasn’t just your scent that got him. It was the way you were so engaged and invested in those around you; if someone was speaking, you were listening like they were the most important person in the world. It was the way you would thank the twins and compliment them each time you dug into a new dish, making appreciative groans that went straight to Bucky’s groin. It was the way you did an adorable little happy food dance when munching on the dishes you especially liked. It was the way you kept stealing glances at him and when you caught his eye, you would smile that sweet smile that made his heart race.

At some point during the evening, Steve leaned over to whisper in his best friend’s ear, “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile this much consecutively since before the war.”

That took Bucky a bit by surprise. He didn’t even think about all the time he spent smiling now that you were in his life. But it was a lot.

“She just… makes me happy,” he replied, sneaking another glance at you. You had stuck forks in two spinach puffs and were doing the Charlie Chaplin bread roll routine, much to everyone’s amusement.

Steve put his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed tight. “That’s really great, man. I’m so happy for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy about it, punk,” Bucky teased, ruffling Steve’s hair when he let go.

At the end of the meal, Wanda poked her head in the oven only to emerge back into the dining area to announce, “So the pie isn’t quite done yet. But I figure once we clean up and maybe watch an episode of Great British Bake Off, it should be ready.”

“Save me and Bucky some!” you chirped, helping to gather dirty dishes to bring into the kitchen.

“You’re not sticking around, kiddo?” Tony asked.

“We’re going ice skating!” you answered happily.

“We don’t have to go, doll, if you want to hang out here. I know how much you love the Bake Off,” Bucky offered. “And pie.”

You deposited the dishes into the sink, then turned your entire attention to Bucky in that way you did so whoever you were speaking to couldn’t help but feel special. “No, we made plans! I’m really excited to go ice skating with you!”

“Ice skating sounds fun!” Peter piped up from where he was loading cutlery into the dish washer. “Could I- Ow!” Steve not-so-subtly stepped on his foot before he could ruin your one-on-one plans with Bucky.

You chuckled. “One day we should all go ice skating as a group. But tonight is date night.” You grabbed Bucky’s arm and beamed up at him, and he couldn’t help himself from leaning down and kissing your forehead, which made your nose crinkle in delight.

You knew of alphas and omegas who were forced into arranged marriages due to their high status in prominent packs. But you never thought it would happen to you. You weren’t important enough; your father’s pack was too small and inconsequential. And yet, here you were, waiting outside your father’s office, ear pressed to the door, trying to hear the negotiations supposed to be happening inside.

Your father had been approached by none other than Steve Rogers, one of the most prominent alphas in the country—nay, the world. You heard months ago that he had approached a very important allied pack with an eye on the alpha’s daughter there, but within a week, that had fallen through and he had entered negotiations with another pack’s alpha’s niece. A week after that, rumor said he was all but set to take your second cousin’s best friend from a wealthy Chicago pack. If he was hitting the pavement at that rate, you figured he for sure would have found a mate by now.

At first you thought he was just being overly picky. That he would find one tiny flaw in an omega and throw her to the curb. But according to your second cousin, it wasn’t his pickiness but his romanticism that was getting in the way of striking an advantageous match. The first pack he went to, they’d gotten almost all the way. A ‘bargain’ had even been arranged (the word modern-day alphas preferred over ‘dowry’ or ‘bride-price,’ as if it somehow made the concept less offensive), but when Steve met the omega, he decided there was no spark. He almost married her anyway, but then his third-in-command, Sam Wilson, had found his True Mate in the pack that Steve’s fiance was from. That must have reinvigorated Steve’s belief in love, because he immediately dropped the match and had been on the hunt ever since.

Though if that were really the case, you were a little surprised you weren’t allowed in the negotiation room. If he was so keen on finding his True Mate, you’d think meeting the omega would be at the top of his priority list. And yet you had been told to wait in your room while the alphas convened.

You weren’t used to being ordered around that way, and you weren’t a stereotypically submissive, obedient omega. Maybe it was because your pack wasn’t important or your family wealthy enough, but you weren’t groomed for this type of thing, and you couldn’t stand the exclusivity of it. Not being allowed to know the details of your own potential engagement was infuriating.

You couldn’t hear anything through the thick oak door, and you almost growled from frustration. You held back though, not wanting to alert the alphas in the office to your presence. Clearly you needed to think of another tactic if you were going to make yourself privy to what was going on in that meeting.

Then an idea hit you. You sprinted back up into your room and carefully stripped yourself of your clothing—the fancy, professional outfit your mother had chosen for you just for the occasion. Then you carefully crept out your window and onto the roof, before shimmying down a drain pipe and landing nearly silently on the pristine lawn below. You were stark naked, but you were shielded by tall hedges and the curved shape of the house.

A moment later, you were no longer in human form. As a wolf, you trotted out of the courtyard and around back, to the window of your father’s office. With the utmost stealth, you attempted to get as close as you could to the window, straining your sensitive canine ears to try and pick up the conversation inside.

You were trying to focus all your energy on your hearing, but you couldn’t help that your nose picked up an extremely delicious aroma. It was an alpha’s scent, and it wasn’t your father’s, so it had to be Steve’s. Oaky and musky and extremely pleasant— you could get used to that scent.

You completely missed that a sleek white wolf had sidled its way over to you until its nose was practically in your fur and it growled low in its chest. You jumped nearly six feet in the air from surprise, and yelped embarrassingly loud.

Your yelping alerted the alphas inside the office, and your father threw open the window. But all he saw was your retreating figure as you scampered away, both mortified and terrified.

You went back to your room with every intention of staying there, as instructed, until you were retrieved. After barely a few minutes, though, your mother came and fetched you, though it wasn’t at the behest of the negotiating alphas. With a conspiratorial smirk, she led you wordlessly to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom she and your father shared. She had discovered that if you leaned your ear to the vent, you could hear the conversation in the office crystal clear.

You almost didn’t join her, ears still burning with shame from your earlier failed attempts at snooping, when you were obviously caught by Steve’s guard wolf. You hadn’t even smelled him coming. Which wasn’t that surprising, actually, considering that Steve’s alpha scent was overwhelming you and betas barely smelled like anything naturally.

You shook your head to clear it and leaned your ear against the vent, mimicking your mother. There was nothing but silence, permeated only by your father’s characteristic bored pen tapping. Then you heard an old-fashioned flip phone phone click shut. When a voice spoke up again, clearly Steve Rogers’ authoritative alpha bass, you were shocked by what he said.

“I am no longer interested in becoming engaged to your daughter.”

Your father spluttered indignantly, and you and your mother just stared at each other with confused expressions.

“Excuse me!” your father finally managed to say. “We just spent the entire afternoon in discussion, and you’re saying you won’t even meet her??”

You couldn’t see him, but from his even tone, you could only imagine that Steve’s face was cool as a cucumber. “My second-in-command had a run-in with her outside,” he explained. “It seems your daughter was trying to snoop on our negotiations.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, trying to swallow down your shame. Your own insatiable curiosity would be the reason you wouldn’t get to smell that delicious scent you had picked up for the rest of your life.

“The first thing I said when you came in here was that my daughter was not some sniveling, submissive omega who could stand this type of secrecy for long!” Your father was nearly shouting, and you felt your heart swell as his protectiveness. “And you accepted that!”

“You misunderstand me,” Steve said, still perfectly calm. “I did not lose interest because of her actions. My second-in-command has expressed interest due to her scent. I am backing off.”

Your father spluttered again, and you covered your mouth to suppress a gasp.

When your father regained his power of speech, you could tell he was shocked and just trying to power through it. “My daughter is the only child of a pack alpha! She is an omega, and there is no way that I am giving her away to some beta!”

You heard Steve chuckle. “I believe I said second-in-command, sir,” Steve clarified. “Bucky Barnes is no beta.”

You were so confused. If his second was also an alpha (a rare occurrence, and a sign that their pack was immensely powerful, which explained a lot about their prominent status), then whose scent did you pick up in the garden? You only smelled one alpha other than your father. Come to think of it, you couldn’t even remember smelling your father, which was odd, because you could usually pick his scent out of a crowd. If you were smelling Bucky and only Bucky when there were two other powerful alphas nearby, that could only mean one thing.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense (or, as his aunt called it, his “Peter tingle”) was on full blast the moment he walked into the compound. He was so on edge, in fact, that it took several moments for him to notice that the building’s alarms were also going off. Once he realized, though, he had to clasp his hands over his ears to try and keep himself from going into sensory overload.

He’d been around the compound before when the alarms had gone off to signal a high-stakes, time-sensitive, all-hands-on-deck mission. But it had never been this intense—the lights were brighter and more colorful, the alarm was louder and shriller. Perhaps it was partly his own spider-sense that was heightening the sensations, but Peter also got the distinct impression that everything was more.

As if FRIDAY herself were freaking out.  

Peter found Vision, who was usually so calm and collected, as frazzled as he’d ever seen him. He was charging head-first into doors and walls, seemingly having trouble with his phasing abilities.

“Vision!” Peter called, jogging to keep up with the floating cyborg. “What’s going on?”

“Miss Stark has been captured,” he stated matter-of-factly, before phasing too aggressively and falling through the floor. Even he was immensely affected by the state of events.

Peter’s head was spinning. You were kidnapped. This was the worst possible thing that could ever happen. He needed to help, immediately.

Before he realized what he was doing, Peter was sprinting through the compound, trying to find someone; anyone.

The first person he stumbled upon was Pepper, who was pacing frantically in her office and screaming into her desk phone.

“So I’m supposed to care about her less because she’s my step-daughter and not my biological daughter, is that it, General?” she shouted. “I don’t care whose womb she originated from, Ross; she is my kid, and nothing—not the Accords, and certainly not you —are going to stop me or my husband from doing our utmost to find her. Do you understand me?”

With his enhanced hearing, Peter picked up the meek acquiescence from the typically aggressive Security General Ross before Pepper slammed the phone back onto the receiver.

“Ms. Potts?” Peter asked cautiously, poking his head through the office door. “What’s going on? What happened to Y/N?”

Pepper heaved a big sigh and hung her head. “Someone incapacitated her suit with a highly specialized blocker, then took her, right in the middle of the day while she was walking back from school,” she said. “Tony and Rhodey are out looking for her now.”

“I’ll help,” Peter said resolutely, already walking to the window. He tapped his watch, and the nano-particles enveloped his body.

“Peter,” said Pepper sternly. He halted in his tracks. “I’m supposed to tell you to wait for the General’s permission.”

Peter reached out and put a hand on the window, still looking Pepper right in the eye with a neutral expression. Her lip curled up slightly, a barely perceivable shift in expression.

“Bring my girl home, please,” Pepper finally whispered.

And in an instant, Peter was gone.

🕷️

Peter found you in a being kept in a warehouse by Manhattan Beach. When the first beam of light shone off his glinting metal Iron Spider suit, your heart swelled with hope and joy at your impending rescue.

After an epic battle with some of Kingpin’s men that would make quite an impressive story for Happy’s voicemail inbox, Peter returned to the compound, victorious, with you in his arms. There was no need for you to still be cradled in his embrace; a few blocks away from the warehouse where they were holding you, the reach of the sonic inhibitor ended, and your suit would have powered up just fine. But it made Peter feel better to keep you where he knew you were safe, where he could not only see you but feel you.

He could also hear you from that position, and the two of you had a nice long chat on your swing home from the warehouse. A very pleasant chat that began like this:

“I’m just so glad you’re safe,” Peter gushed.

“Why, thank you,” you replied. “It’s nice to be wanted.”

“You are wanted,” he assured you, not even really noticing what he was saying, since he was too busy focusing on his webslinging and not dropping you.

You giggled. “By you?”

“Huh?” he asked distractedly.

“Am I wanted by you?” you asked again in a low voice, pulling yourself tighter into his chest.

You couldn’t see for sure, but you had a strong suspicion Peter was blushing under his mask.

“I, uh, I mean..” he spluttered.

The conversation continued in this vein until it reached its inevitable conclusion. A conclusion you knew your father would not be happy about, so you decided to cushion the blow.

“Hey, Dad!” you greeted, running into his arms and squeezing him tightly.

“Kiddo,” he sighed into your hair. “I’m so glad you're home.”

“It’s all thanks to Peter,” you said, disentangling yourself from your father’s embrace to indicate the teenage superhero standing awkwardly in the corner.

Still holding onto your hand, Tony walked over to Peter and clasped him tightly around the shoulder.

“You did good today, kid,” he said. “Thank you for bringing my baby home.”

“Dad, I’m not a baby,” you admonished. “In fact, I think I’m old enough to date now,” you asserted, removing your hand from his and placing it on your hip.

“Oh you do now, do you?” he asked with a quirk of his brow. “And did you have someone in mind?”

“I did, as a matter of fact,” you replied. “This guy right here.” You walked over and took Peter’s hand in yours. His hand was already sticky with nervous sweat and his own spider-web-sticky-stuff, but you didn’t mind.

“Oh no no no no no no no no,” your dad immediately launched into a repetitive mantra. “Not a chance.”

“Dad,” you said firmly. You refused to whine like a child. “You literally just congratulated him on a job well done. You like him. What’s the problem?”

“Nope. No. Absolutely not.”

“Dad!”

“Negative. Nada. Noperino.”

“DAD,” you shouted sternly. You stared him down, getting upset now at his unreasonable stubbornness. “Give me an actual, logical reason why I can’t date Peter.”

“Too dangerous. You’re just gonna end up heartbroken when he gets hurt!”

“Well, yeah! I love him! Of course I’m going to be heartbroken if he gets hurt, which is likely ‘cause he’s a superhero, but denying my feelings and not going out with him isn’t going to change that!”

Peter’s gaze had been flitting back and forth between you and Tony like a pingpong match, but now it was firmly on you. A stupid grin spread across his face at your admission.

“You love me?” he asked quietly.

You spun on your heels to face him, and could feel your cheeks heating up. “I, uh, I mean…” your spluttering was nearly identical to his when you had confronted him under an hour ago.

Tony heaved a large sigh.

“I guess there’s nothing I can do to stop you love-sick punks,” he resigned himself. “Stay safe.”

With that, he left the room, leaving you alone with Peter.

Peter’s smile had transformed from shy to cocky. “So you love me, huh?” he asked, a sly lilt to his voice.

“Can we please pretend I never said that?” you pleaded.

He sauntered over and wrapped his arms around you. “Never, ‘cause I love you too.”

You beamed with joy as he gave you a tender kiss on the cheek.