i'll make this feel like home
She never wanted a mate like this and will kill this wolf no matter what it takes. Enough is enough.
Bucky finds out how much she likes the color yellow and how much he likes it when she smiles.
(A/N: again, this is a repost of an old work from my old blog, but I still wanted it to be out there on Tumblr, lol. Hope you like it!)
It has been three long and sorrowful weeks since Bucky had lost track of his sweet omega. It is a sin among alphas to lose their omegas, and Bucky has been feeling the quiet disdain amongst his pack for how shitty of a leader they have. She left not a trace when she fled- just a discarded shoe that Bucky had found in the forest long after she'd escaped him. But he can't even find a scent that matches the one on the shoe to follow! It's been a lonely time, and Bucky has been holed up in his bedroom like a hermit, unable to face the world until his omega willingly returns to him. He will not force her to come to him. He can't. (Okay, maybe it is too soon, but he's ninety-eight percent positive that he's in love with this woman already; alpha and omega dynamics be damned.)
Bucky is sure that she didn't remember this, but she talked while lying unconscious in his bed. She had an entire conversation with someone. She spoke of the old country, whatever that was, and how cold she felt. How strange it was for a vamp to feel cold! Bucky was brought up believing that they felt nothing. She begged the person only she could see. She wanted to be mortal. She missed seeing herself in a mirror. Bucky would have told her she looked beautiful. He would say to her that every day if she let him.
No, scratch that. He's heartbroken. He has not eaten much of anything except the occasional raw strip of bacon. He can't even be bothered to cook it up properly. Gods, he remembers what she smelled like. The sea and clean clothes fresh out of the dryer, his favorite. She smelled like something comforting, too, which made him think of being a pup and spending hours in the library, escaping the summer heat through his favorite stories. Her anger smelled like a heady bonfire, one like the Pagan witches burn every year as they celebrated Beltane.
Her scent haunts him so much that he can nearly taste it. After she fled, her smell lingered merely a moment before it was blown away by a gust of cold wind. Even her shoe no longer smells like her, so Bucky has nothing to comfort him. All he can do is sit at the window like a dutiful alpha and wait. Sometimes he howls into the darkness, hoping that she will hear and come to him.
She is exhausted- bone tired and feeling increasingly sluggish for the last three weeks. She doesn't want to blame it on the stupid wolf who may or may not have saved her life from whatever was wrong with her, but the longer she hides from him and his emotions that sear her chest, the more she believes that yes, they have somehow miraculously pair-bonded. Gods! She can't even process the thought. It is like something out of that stupid book Twilight, where that teen werewolf who never wears a shirt falls in love with an infant- what a ridiculous idea. At least, she used to think it was until it happened to her. She supposes it did happen to her because she can still feel the twinges of the wolf in her mind. She can feel his pain, sense his loneliness.
It's very distracting as she is trying to read. She hasn't gotten past Canto ii of her favorite poem (The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser) before her chest starts to hurt, and she hears 'Wolfy's howl in her mind.
"Oh my Gods!" she yells as she bangs her head against her headboard and throws her book across the room. "What is wrong with me? Ugh, cut me open! I'm infected! Pull it out! I cannot believe this is happening to me."
He was only minutely attractive, right? Not sexy enough for her to want to be a subservient omega-like being, bending to her alpha's every whim. She is not a gods-darn cum dumpster, nor is she mother material. She cannot cook because she only eats blood. She hates to clean and hardly ever makes a mess, so she does not need to deal with that, anyway. She is not going to take this thing sitting down. She's a vampire, not an omega. As that thought crosses her mind for the hundredth time in the last hour, she has decided that she has officially reached her limit. She is going to kill this wolf no matter what it takes. She's sick of him in her head.
Enough is enough.
Bucky has not moved from his spot by his bedroom window in over six hours. He's been steadfastly ignoring the gnaw of hunger in his belly. The moon shines in his window, and he tilts his head, letting out a mournful howl. He hears a responding howl from a few miles away and knows that it's his second, Steve. Steve has been checking up on his best friend for a few hours every other day to see how Bucky has been managing. But the rest of Bucky's pack has all but shunned him. It will take a lot to get back into their good graces, but how can he lead when he feels so empty? Bucky howls again, yipping into it. A gust of wind blows through his window just as his nose is still in the air, and he inhales it, prepared for the icy chill to burn his lungs and soothe the ache in his chest. Instead, he catches the scent of the sea, cotton, and the yellowed pages of old books.
It's his pretty omega!
Bucky leaps to his feet and runs downstairs in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His body heat will keep him warm anyway. He throws open his front door and races out onto the grass, frantically looking around in the darkness. He howls at her, sending his yearning across their bond. He wants to see her so badly. He wants to touch her and kiss her and taste her and fuck her. He wants her wrapped around him so tightly that he can hardly breathe. He wants her to taste him.
A hiss from the darkness is all the warning he has before something knocks him on his ass. He yelps in surprise, and then a figure jumps on top of him, holding him in place. Though he is an alpha pack leader, vamps are stronger than he is whenever there isn't a full moon or he is not on his rut. So this waif of a thing is stronger than him, which makes the alpha in his chest deeply unhappy. He quells that side of him with an internal growl. He's just thrilled that she's here!
She hisses again, baring her fangs at him. Her eyes glow, and she smells like charcoal. She looks furious. Her right hand comes up to his neck, and she chokes Bucky in an attempt to frighten him. However, it has the opposite effect as he wiggles around, feeling his dick starting to swell in his pants. She glares and presses down harder until he can't even breathe, and he gapes up at her, helplessly turned on.
"I am so sick and tired of your voice in my head day in and day out," she snarls. "Always in my mind, whining for an omega. Do you think I wanted this? There is no way I would ever want a disgusting animal like you!"
She laughs, looking as crazed as Bucky feels.
"Since you couldn't kill me the first time around, I guess it's my turn. I will have no problem killing you, you awful creature. I'll revel in it. I'll roll around in your blood like a pup. I'll stick silver in your mouth and rip. Your. Guts. Out. And I'll love every second of it."
Bucky whimpers. He has never felt so powerless against anything before. She has got him right where she wants him and not in a good way, though he doesn't mind it so much. He squirms in her grip, trying to find anything to rut against, and she hisses at him, snapping her hand back as though she had been stabbed.
"What was that?" she asks, eyes huge. "What's going on?"
"I don't- I don't- what are you talkin' about?" Bucky whines, wanting her hand around his neck again.
"You burned me, you asshole! Oh, shit! Ow, ow!"
"My necklace?" Bucky asks, fingering the symbol around his neck.
It is a relic passed down from pack alpha to pack alpha as a remembrance of the leaders before him and a remembrance of the wolf's ways. Bucky recalls that it's made of iron as a way of protecting the pack leader from vamp attacks. The necklace is for protection from the same creatures like the one seated on top of him—his omega. The older a vamp is, the more iron burns them. His sweet baby doll is cradling her hand and moaning in pain. She must have been very hurt.
"'S my necklace. It's iron," Bucky says weakly, feeling terrible. "I can take it off if ya wanna, you know, kill me or whatever."
"I don't understand what's going on," she says instead, toppling off of him and scurrying away from the light of his porch. "Why can I hear you in my head? Why can I feel what you feel?"
"Pair-bonding," Bucky explains, getting to his knees and following her, "Alphas smell a certain smell that attracts them to the omega -er- being that carries the same scent. It's a scent ingrained in the individual alpha's hindbrain before they're even born. You smell like the ocean. I love goin' to the beach. You smell like my childhood library. An' I love fresh sheets right outta the dryer an' ya smell like that too. I smelled ya at the church, an' it was everythin' I thought it would be. You're my omega. I can't help it no more than you can help suckin' down blood."
"So what then?" she says, glaring at Bucky. "What, I don't get a choice? A say? This isn't my body anymore; it's yours just because you've decided it is? Because your biology told you it is? You alpha wolves are pieces of work; you know that? How disgusting this whole hierarchical thing is. How do you think your omegas feel, huh? You treat them like nothing more than processing factories to dump your cum into and then pop out your babies!"
"Now, hold on a second," Bucky starts angrily, "It ain't like that with omegas!"
"Oh yeah? I've been around for hundreds of years, 'Wolfy,' and the only thing that's changed are the colors of your fur. Nothing in societal terms. Omegas are treated like second-class citizens, and if you think I am going to fall to my knees and beg at your feet for you to shove your dick in me, you have another thing coming! My Gods, this is ridiculous! I have been alone for four hundred years, and I get a werewolf wanting to mate with me?" she cries, throwing her hands in the air in disbelief.
"Things have changed!" says Bucky. "But why the fuck do I needta explain it to ya? Omegas are revered, respected. They're treated like royalty! Hell, the last Heat Centers closed in the 1930s!"
"'Heat Centers'! You mean those glorified prostitution rings?" she snarls. "You animals disgust me."
"Likewise," Bucky snaps. "Ain't like you vamps made us wolves your bitches for hundreds of years!"
"Gods, you're still bitter about that? That was eons ago! My great-great-grandparents weren't even alive when the last wolf trade happened!"
"Yeah, well. We're still pretty angry!"
They sit in silence for a moment. Bucky huffs, which is a terrible idea as he then inhales and gets a whiff of her scent. He groans and continues hating himself for choosing a fucking vampire as a mate. (This whole courting thing is going well so far, isn't it, Barnes?) He told her he wanted her to have his pups the very moment he met her. She just tried to kill him. He burned the palm of her hand clean through to the muscle; they screamed at each other—what a mess.
Okay, new plan.
"Look," Bucky says finally. "I dunno what else to say except I'm sorry. I know ya understand that I can't help this."
"What would happen if I refuse?" she says.
Bucky's heart sinks.
"I'd try an' respect your choice. But it would be tough for me. You might as well just kill me now 'cause I'd die without ya."
"Now you're just acting dramatic."
"Swear it. Didn't you feel that burnin' on the night of the full moon?" asks Bucky.
"It felt like I was being ripped apart on a cross and like I was being injected with Holy Water and burned with hot irons all at once. It was like I was dying from starvation with no blood in sight," she says.
"Now imagine that pain every day for the rest a' your life. Most alphas don't last an' kill themselves after a while. It makes 'em go crazy," Bucky says.
She closes her eyes and heaves a heavy sigh.
She opens her eyes, and their gazes lock. Bucky makes sure to take in every inch of her if this is the last time he will get to see her. He memorizes the shape of her lips, the tilt of her nose, and the way her hair falls in her face. She is magnificent.
"You're beautiful, ya know," Bucky says, without thinking.
"You don't mean that, not really. It's just your alpha talking."
He moves closer, dropping down to his knees beside her. She is leaning against the side of his house, still cradling her hand.
"But I do mean it. Pair-bond or not. Stupid Twilight-style imprint shit or not. You're pretty. I think you're pretty an' I'm glad it's you," Bucky murmurs.
"You don't even know me, 'Wolfy."
"An' you don't know me 'cause you keep callin' me, Wolfy. My name's James Barnes. But everyone calls me Bucky, an' you can too."
"Bucky." A ghost of a smile appears on her lips. "That's a good name for a dog."
"My middle name is Buchanan," Bucky says, only slightly upset by her teasing.
"I didn't say I didn't like it. I only said that it suits you and what you are."
"Oh yeah? What's your name then? Is it Claudia? Rosalie? Eli? Akasha? Oh! I bet it's Lestat."
"That last one is a man's name, and you know it."
"Fine. So what is your name?"
She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and tells him her birth name. (She debated for a moment if she wanted to give him the fake name that she has been using for the last hundred years or so since her name is a little unusual, but she assumed he would end up discovering the truth eventually.) Bucky repeats it to himself, and his grin grows wider.
"That's a beautiful name. It suits ya," he tells her.
"Thank you," she whispers, looking embarrassed.
"I know it's unconventional, but maybe I'd be happy just gettin' to know ya. We could talk a little bit. If I get to know you, the bond may break as my hindbrain realizes we aren't meant to be. I've heard a' that happenin' before. Lemme take you out somewhere. What do ya like to do?"
"I promise you I'm not very exciting."
"I doubt that."
"I am incredibly serious," she says with a shy smile.
Bucky's heart leaps in his chest, and he bites back a quiet sound. He can feel himself falling in love with every word she speaks, and he knows that once he does get to know her, he is not going to want to let her go. Her eyes are colorless, but her lips are as bright as the mark she's already made on his heart. He doesn't think he can live without her.
Bucky fights the urge to cup her cheeks in his hands, "Now, I know that ain't true."
"All right," she says. "Fine, since you asked. I like to read. I like to run in the woods. I knit sometimes. I go to movies-"
Naturally, Bucky assumed she would like those calm activities that didn't require another person along for the ride. Vamps are known for being very solitary, introverted creatures that intensely dislike others' company, even one of their own. He does know a good used bookstore that's open until two in the morning. He could take her there. He doesn't mind quiet, boring activities if it means he can spend time with his beautiful girl.
"-This crow and I go for walks at night, I enjoy that. Coffee shops are fun, though I don't eat much. Go-carting is great."
Wait, wait, wait, wait. What did she say?
"Um, water parks. Cliff diving can be fun if you find the right cliffs. I like making candles and coloring in kid's coloring books. Oh, snowmobiling's nice too. I did that once up in Colorado, and it was the best. A little cold, but once you get going, it's incredible. "
"Wow," Bucky says weakly, which is Bucky code for 'holy-fucking-shit-I-think-I-am-in-love-with-you.'
"I'm sorry," she says, suddenly uncomfortable, and Bucky smells it on her. "I have no idea where all of that came from."
"No!" he says a little too eagerly. "No, no, no! You, uh, in the mood to drive some go-carts right now? I know the manager of the place downtown. He's one of my pack buddies. He gave me a key, 'cause you know, I'm his alpha, he's gotta listen to me."
Bucky's only showing off a little bit.
"Oh," she says, surprised. "You want to go now?"
"No time like the present, right?"
A genuine grin, the first one Bucky has ever seen from her, spreads across her face. She even lets out a soft giggle and nods.
"Go-carts it is," she agrees.
Clint Barton was not at all pleased with Bucky. Bucky had texted Barton fifteen minutes before the go-cart place was due to close, which Bucky knew made him a dick, but what else could he do? This new thing, this vampire he met, agreed to spend time with him! He didn't want to disappoint her! To get Clint to agree, Bucky promised a few things to Barton that he never wanted anyone else to know about. He didn't want to die of humiliation before he even had a chance to impress the pretty vampire, who he was pretty sure he was in love with.
The same pretty vampire who had tried to kill him not sixty minutes ago is now jumping eagerly on her toes as she stands with Bucky, waiting to get onto the track. She is a bit too far away from him. He moves closer, wanting to touch but refraining, wary of her changing her mind and running away again.
"You ready?" Bucky asks.
He can hear the happiness in her voice as she finishes adjusting her helmet.
"I sure am!" she answers, grinning.
"Anyone ever tell ya you got real pretty eyes, darlin'?" Bucky bravely says, nudging her before he can stop himself.
The compliment startles her for a brief moment, her gaze going blank. Why does she look upset? Bucky did not mean for that to happen. Fuck, he ruined it, didn't he? Hastily, he tries to recover from his mistake, but then she meets his eyes, looking shy. Bucky's heart leaps in his chest at the look on her face. His palms feel slick with sweat.
"No one has said that to me in a very long time." Her voice is soft. "Thank you, James."
He swallows. "B-Bucky. I mean, it's Bucky, Bucky's fine, yeah. Call me Bucky."
"Thank you, Bucky," she corrects, inching all that closer to him. "You have beautiful hair."
Bucky swallows again, harder, this time past the lump welling up in his throat. How is she even real? What being can he thank for creating her? Gods, he wants to kiss her so badly. That first time they had kissed, she had gotten her hands in his hair, and Bucky has not forgotten that at all. He chances a glance at her fingers, willing them to move onto his head and tug on his hair.
"Ha, thanks. I, uh, was gonna cut it actually," he says.
"Oh no!" she squeaks a little too loudly and a little too quickly. "I mean, it looks nice long, but if you wanted to, you could cut it, of course. Please don't listen to me. It's your hair."
Bucky bites back a knowing grin. She wants him to keep it long; he'll keep it long for her—no big deal. Feeling brave, he grabs her hand.
"Oh," he says, startled.
Her hand is freezing. Bucky turns to face her, and she does too, though she isn't looking at him.
"Sorry," she says. "I know it's not nice to feel."
"No," Bucky says, grabbing her other hand. "It's fine. You're fine. Can you look at me?"
"They don't ever get much warmer," she admits, looking miserable.
"That's okay. Gives me more of a reason to hold 'em. If you don't mind, I mean."
"I don't mind."
Bucky's gaze flickers to her lips. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see her fangs, to run his tongue over them. Would she bite him? He sure wants her to.
"Can I kiss you?" Bucky asks.
"We haven't even started our date yet."
"Don't tell me yer that old-fashioned."
"I am over four hundred years old."
"Please? Just one kiss. I won't even ask for another one when I drop you off."
"What if I wanted you to?"
"I see. Two kisses, eh? For someone who tried to kill me a few hours ago, you're bein' very generous."
"What can I say? Go-carting gives me an adrenaline rush."
"So, is that a yes on the kiss?"
She steps closer to Bucky, something shining in her eyes as though she is working up her nerve. It has been a long time since she's wanted to kiss someone, but Bucky is so handsome and so sweet that she isn't afraid. He brings something out in her. She doesn't feel so shy. Bucky leans forward, and she does, too. The kiss makes her belly do all kinds of funny things that she doesn't realize she missed until they happen.
As soon as their lips touch, Bucky lets out a soft noise and gathers her up in his arms, crowding into her space. He can't get enough. He slips his tongue into her mouth too soon, but she doesn't mind. He whines when she pulls on the ends of his hair. He wants to ask her to bite him. He almost gets to, but she breaks away from his mouth. Bucky pouts, chasing after her lips.
"It looks like we can go in now," she murmurs, kissing Bucky again just to soothe him. "I hope they have yellow ones."
"Yeah?" says Bucky, nuzzling her cheek. "You like yellow?"
"Yes." Her voice is soft again, something that Bucky is slowly learning to mean that she is about to share a piece of herself with him. "Yes, it's my favorite color. It reminds me of the sun, and I can't see a lot of the sun."
Right then, Bucky decides that he will get her everything and anything in this world that is yellow.
He tugs her towards the carts. She plops down into a yellow one. He follows her lead, sitting down into a cart, with his knees pressed against his chest. She is watching him as Bucky fiddles with the seat, feeling his face turning red at how ridiculous he must look. He's never been known to be the blushing type of alpha, least of all on dates or around potential mates, but something about her makes him shy and prone to stuttering even after that damn kiss. Bucky blushes harder at this realization, his mind wandering away on the thoughts of yellow houses and wedding bells.
"Are you ready?" she asks.
"Yeah, sunshine," Bucky says, because how can he call her anything else?
She smiles at the pet name, her tongue sweeping out to lick her lips, and reaches out to take his hand, to which Bucky allows with a goofy smile. Then she lifts his hand to her mouth and kisses each of his fingers.
"For good luck," she tells him.
Bucky's heart almost beats out of his chest. He wonders if she wouldn't mind sharing a cart. His mind wanders again, of being pressed up against her as she drives them around the track. Her scent stuck in his nose as she drove. His mouth on her neck, her shoulders, anywhere he could reach. Then he would slip a hand underneath her shirt and feel the chill of her skin on his fingertips, pull her body back against his.
The gate opens. Just as it does, she stomps on the accelerator and darts out before Bucky even registers what has happened. He lets out a yelp of indignation, muttering about dirty tricks before he too begins to drive. He doesn't want to lose, competitive as alphas are.
The track is the most complicated one that they offer, full of traps where people are bound to get stuck; sharp turns lead to drivers careening into the tires along the sides. She has a lead foot, Bucky starts to realize as she rounds the bend, already on her second lap. The alpha in him growls, annoyed that he is losing to an omega, but he shuts it up, happily waving to her as she passes him. When she does pass him, he can feel the connection between them break.
It was a weak bond from the start, Bucky knew. His alpha hindbrain liked how she smelled, but once he found out what she was, his hindbrain was wary. Now, his hindbrain is deeply unhappy that he is on a date with this gorgeous creature. She is not only stronger but faster and more competitive. She does not need an alpha to take care of her. They are not compatible in any way, or so his Gods-damn hindbrain thinks. But Bucky realizes he doesn't care how his alpha side feels about the situation. He swears at himself, shutting his hindbrain down. He wants her, whether his hindbrain agrees or not.
And he knows that it is not very wise to think so, but Bucky has always been too much of a romantic. He swears she is in love with him also. He pictures her face underneath the visor, sees her smiling at him, eyes bright, and happy, and so alive. She waves back at him as she speeds by, close enough that he can barely touch her fingers. There are the gods-damn sparks that Bucky knew were there from the moment he met her. Then the surety:
Oh, this one's mine.