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bucky-fricking-barnes · 1 year

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Wild (3/4)

Pairing: Lycanthrope!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Very mild innuendos, Russian text (translations at the end)

Summary: Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.

A/N: This fic contains some brief phrases and one conversation in Russian. There are translations at the bottom of the fic, but for those who are curious, the conversation contains no information that has not already been explained in English, as it is mostly backstory being explained to Natasha. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Previous Part | Miniseries Masterlist

“You’ve already met all of the family I have,” you tell him. “Nat took care of me after you led me to that village. It’s always been the two of us against the world, and now I have you, too.”

“You both do. Natasha is part of your pack, so she’ll be part of mine, too, if she wishes.”

The front door slams open, bringing with it a gust of wind, a flurry of snowflakes, and a very cold Natasha. Her forearms are laden with grocery bags and there’s a mysterious mass of brown, snowflake-covered fluff tucked up against her side.

“Y/N? A little help?”

Bucky’s out of his seat before you can stop him, taking the bags from her without a second thought. You watch in horror from your spot at the table as he manhandles them away from her and heads into the kitchen without another word. The brown fuzzy thing falls to the floor, just out of reach of the quickly melting snow. Natasha stands in front of the open door, a million emotions crossing her features. She’s already spotted you and can tell that you’re safe and not on edge, which means she knows that Bucky’s not a threat, but you know that she’s definitely suspicious.

She’s probably already figured out the best ten ways to corner and kill him, you think in a panic.

Quickly, you get up from the chair and close the front door, then help her out of her coat. Melted snow drips onto the floor at your feet. Now that you’re closer, you realize that the brown lump of fluff beside you is a dog bed, and your comments from this morning pop back into your head.

“Who is he?” she whispers, glancing back towards the kitchen. Bucky’s putting the groceries away, no doubt in the correct spots after watching the two of you cook and clean for months now, and you can hear him humming to himself as he works. Something tells you that if you stopped to listen, it would be something you liked.

“His name is Bucky,” you quietly explain. “And he’s the wolf.”

She pauses to stare at you with one boot off. Nat’s standing with socked feet in a puddle of melted snow but doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. “No. He’s a lycanthrope. Er, a lycan. Apparently we both are, him and me.”

Natasha blinks. “You’re a lycanthrope?” she asks, and you nod. “I thought those were just a myth. Since when are—”

“I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Синица,” she assures you, and instantly your nerves are soothed. She grabs your hands and squeezes them both between her own gloved fingers, smiling softly. Her nose and ears are pink from the cold and there are quickly melting snowflakes tucked into the fiery red of her hair. Natasha always looks right at home in the cold, and she wears it well. “I believe you, and I’m not angry with you. Now come, I want to interrogate your new wolf friend.”

“He’s not new,” you say, grinning. After prying off her second boot, she forces you to loop your arm with hers and practically drags you to the kitchen, where she continues to ignore her wet socks in favor of staring down Bucky.

He’s at the freezer, frowning hard as he rearranges it to make room for the new additions Natasha had picked up at the store. You watch in amused silence as he works, until finally he closes the door and turns to face the two of you.

“Natalia,” he greets, bowing his head slightly. “Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны?”

He shakes his head and you look between the two of them. You’ve been able to learn some Russian over the years, but they’re talking too quickly for you to do anything but pick out a few words and phrases. The ones you do know make you want to crawl into a hole.

“Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы ��утировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду,” he says.

Bucky sounds good—gorgeous, even—when he’s speaking another language, and you could truly listen to him all day, but you’re also fed up.

“Enough!” You pull your arm from Natasha’s to cross them both over your chest, giving them an irritated look. “In English, please! Some of us are still learning!”

“Immersion is the best way to learn,” Bucky teases, and you narrow your eyes at him.

Natasha laughs. “I think I like him.”

Scowling, you stomp back into the living room and grab the dog bed from where Natasha had dropped it. They’re watching you from the kitchen doorway with matching satisfied smirks on their faces, and you shake the bed at Bucky.

“I’ll make you sleep on this,” you threaten. “Don’t think I won’t!”

He laughs, a deep, rolling laugh that echoes in the cabin and in your soul, and you tense slightly against the bolt of lightning that zips down your spine at the sound. Your smirk wavers.

“I was rather hoping we wouldn’t sleep tonight, Маленький,” Bucky says. “I’d like to take you for a run.”

Natasha chokes and ducks around him, heading back into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Not like that!” you clarify, hoping you’re loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the ancient refrigerator. “He literally means running!”

The smug look on his face hasn’t faltered and you scoff, tossing the dog bed at him. Bucky easily catches it with one hand and grips the brown fluff until it’s completely squashed under his fingers.

“It will be a good experience for you. I promise to keep you safe.”

Though you’re thoroughly discombobulated after the day you’ve had, you nod. His face lights up with joy, which makes your own stomach flutter. The intensity of his emotions almost knocks you off your feet and you have the fleeting thought that if you can feel what he’s feeling, he can feel what you feel as well.

“If we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to go nap now,” you say, and he nods in agreement.

“I’ll probably join you.”

You freeze. He can’t be serious, you think. He didn’t mean that the way I think he means, right?

“Everything okay?” Bucky asks.

“You’re going to… join me?” you ask him, frowning. “As in…?”

He seems to catch on quickly and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh. No, I’m sorry, I’m not used to being in my human form. It’s been years since I’ve been human around other people. Um… I’ll take the couch.”

Bucky steps further into the living room and nods at the couch pushed up against the wall. It faces the window and it’s entirely too small for him, and you immediately feel bad.

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch. It’s way too small. Take my bed,” you say. When he goes to argue, you shake your head. “Bucky, the couch isn’t big enough for you. We’ll figure something out later, but for now, just sleep in my room. Okay?.”

Natasha pokes her head in from the kitchen. “Y/N can sleep in my bed for right now, I have some work I need to do in the living room anyway and it would just keep her up.”

You send her a grateful look before heading towards the hallway. Her room is the farthest, so when Bucky murmurs your name, you have to turn around to see if you’d actually heard him correctly.

“I know this is a lot,” he says, his voice soft. Natasha has good hearing, but not good enough that she’ll be able to hear any kind of quiet conversation the two of you have in the hallway. He’s smart enough to know that, and you know that he’s being this quiet on purpose.

“It is,” you confirm. You wrap your arms around yourself, watching him closely.

“For what it’s worth, you’re handling it well. There aren’t many of us around anymore. Most of my kind—our kind,” he corrects, “died off a long time ago, but I remember when I was little and my pack would come across a lycan that didn’t know their true self. It was always a big adjustment for them, and there’s not much any of us can do to help.”

Smiling just a little, you nod. “Thanks, Bucky. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

You grab the handle on Natasha’s room and wait until he nods, then enter. As you close the door behind you, you sigh in relief. You need some time to process, and Nat’s little sanctuary is one of the best places you can think of to do that. Her room is warm and cozy, filled with lots of blankets and stacks of books you know she’s read time and time again. You know that the atmosphere of the room is the exact opposite of what she had before she retired, and it’s an intentional change. She needed something that felt like home, you’d said, and after a year of living in the cabin, she’d started to agree with you. Since then, she’s read through most of the library in town, and every winter you notice that she adds at least one new blanket. It’s not unusual for her to have candles burning or soft lighting on as she relaxes, and there have been many nights where you’ve spread her blankets out of the floor and slept beside her after a nightmare. Her room is the pinnacle of safety, in your mind, though now Bucky has started to work his way into that picture.

It takes you a few minutes to make a comfortable nest in the center of her mattress, but once you’re settled under the covers, you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. It doesn’t take you long, especially after your mind drifted to thoughts of Bucky’s face softened by moonlight.

You wake again to Natasha shaking you, a small smile on her lips. She’s holding a mug in one hand and has her hair clipped up, clueing you into the fact that she’s just begun her nighttime routine. You sit up in the bed and squint at the darkness outside the window.

“It’s just past ten, Синица,” she tells you. She sips her tea and sits in the plush chair she’d found at a thrift store months ago. It rocks a little as she settles and pulls a blanket over her lap, then sets the mug down on the small side table nearby. She grabs her book, completely nonplussed by your owlish stare.

“Ten?” you finally ask.

Natasha looks up at you over the top of the pages. “10:14, to be exact.”

“I slept until after ten?”

She sighs and closes the book again, using her finger to keep her place. “You clearly needed the rest,” she replies. “You had an exciting morning.”

You scoff at her and swing your legs over the side of the bed, shoving blankets off of you. “That’s putting it mildly.”

"How are you doing?”

“Fine, I guess,” you shrug. Standing, you adjust your clothes where they’ve twisted around you in your sleep, then glance over at her. “You don’t seem very surprised by all of this.”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life, Y/N,” Natasha tells you. There’s a hint of a smile on her face as she picks up her mug with her free hand to take a sip. “You turning into a wolf is hardly at the top of the list.”

“And you’re okay with me just running off in the middle of the night with the strange man who also happens to be a lycan?”

“Do you want me to object?” She’s teasing you, you know she is, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You know that she wants you to admit that you’d love to run off with Bucky and that even her objecting wouldn’t stop you.

“Come on, Синица,” she sighs, setting her mug back on the side table. “You clearly have some kind of…” She waves her hand around. “Connection with him.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Let me finish.” She leans forward to smack the side of your thigh with the book and you swat at her. “He’s helped you through a lot of rough times in your life, and you’ve done the same for him. It’s only natural that you want to spend time together. Maybe that desire will fade, maybe not, but you can still learn a lot from him, right?”

“Right.”

“So learn,” she says, gesturing towards the door. It’s shut tight, but the light from the hallway shines in through the crack at the bottom. If you’re quiet, you can hear Bucky shuffling things around in the kitchen. “If you’re not going to think of him as a potential lover—”

“Natasha!”

She’s grinning. “—then think of him as a tutor, of sorts.”

"You’re disgusting.”

“Go have fun on your midnight run, Синица.” Nat draws out the nickname, teasing you as you hurry out of her room.

Almost immediately after slamming the bedroom door shut behind you, you run into Bucky. He’s standing outside your room with a mug in one hand and a plate of food in the other. It smells heavenly.

“Good morning,” he says, a slow smile growing on his face.

Your cheeks burn under his gaze. “It’s technically night.”

That’s the best response you could’ve come up with? No wonder Nat’s teasing you, you scold yourself. Don’t act like some lovesick teenager.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Well, goodnight then. I made you something to eat and some coffee. You’re going to need your strength tonight. Running as a wolf takes more energy than as a human, even more so because you’re not used to it.”

Nodding, you take the plate and the mug. The coffee is still hot, but a tentative sip tells you that he’s gotten your drink exactly right. You raise an eyebrow at him and surprisingly, Bucky looks sheepish.

“I caught on to what you like to eat and drink a few days after you saved me,” he admits. “Does it taste okay?”

You nod again and offer him a small smile now that you’re feeling a bit more grounded in his presence. “It does. Thank you, Bucky.”

He smiles back, then turns and heads back down the hallway. You follow him to the kitchen, where the two of you settle at the table in front of the sliding doors. It’s dark outside as he begins to eat his own plate of food. You can’t help but notice that the portions are much larger than you would’ve normally served anybody, but somehow it doesn’t feel like too much.

Carefully, you settle down in the seat across from him and begin to eat. Bucky’s a good cook, despite having spent so long in his wolf body, and soon your plate is clean. You hum approvingly and sip your coffee when you finish, relaxing back in your chair.

“Good?” he asks, and you nod in response. “My ma taught me how to make that recipe when I was first old enough to help her. It’s been a long time since I’ve made it.”

"It’s one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you tell him honestly. The kitchen falls silent as the two of you sip your coffee. You watch the snow that still falls outside for a few moments before looking back at him. “Were you close with your family?”

It takes a second, but Bucky nods. “I was,” he answers. His voice is soft and thick with emotion, and there’s an accent there that you hadn’t noticed before. Despite its familiarity, you can’t quite place it. “Ma was one of the greatest people I’ve ever known. She was beautiful and smart and she could make anything you could ever dream of in the kitchen. I had a little sister too—Becca.”

“How old is she?”

“She was 20 when I was taken. I was 26.” Bucky cradles his mug of coffee between his hands, staring down into it. His drink is almost as dark as the sky outside and you make a mental note that he drinks his coffee black. You want to be able to return the favor of making him something to eat and drink someday, hopefully soon.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, and he nods.

A few minutes pass in silence. You listen to Natasha shuffle around down the hall as she gets ready for bed, and then you hear the light click off in her room. Bucky stands and collects the dishes, leaving you with your half-empty mug of coffee while he starts to load the dishwasher.

“I can do that,” you offer. He shakes his head, not bothering with a verbal response, but you get the message. You’ve prodded him with enough personal questions today and he wants the silence. He wants to keep busy until the main event of your evening arrives.

Finally, Bucky places the last dish onto the top rack and closes the door. You meet his eyes and he nods.

“So how does this work?” you ask as you stand.

He slides open the door to the backyard and you immediately shiver when a gust of frigid air pushes through into the kitchen. Snowflakes flutter inside and though every part of you is telling you that it’s not wise to go out without a coat, or even shoes, you follow him out and let him shut the door behind you. The tiny wooden deck attached to the back of the house is covered with snow and your feet are already stinging from the cold.

“Now all we have to do is shift. We’ll run until you get tired and then I’ll bring you back home. I’ll probably want to run longer after that, but you can come inside and sleep. You’ll sleep for a while, I’m sure. The first run is always the most exhilarating, but also the most exhausting. I can still remember mine clearly. I slept for fourteen hours when I finally returned home,” Bucky explains.

You gawk at him. “Fourteen hours?”

He nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. Even his chin lifts slightly and you have to hold back a chuckle. “But I ran for a full eight.”

Judging by his expression, you can tell that that’s a lot, even though you have nothing to base it on. You smile accordingly and hope you’re acting impressed enough as Bucky leads you to the edge of the forest. You’re practically wading through the snow and you start to wonder if you’ll even be able to run in this weather. Bucky doesn’t seem concerned, however, so you push the worry away.

“To shift into your wolf form, you’ll need to try and picture what you look like, or what it felt like to be a wolf. It’ll be easier if you can think of both those things at once,” he tells you.

The nervousness trickles back into your mind as your smile fades, and you nod. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and exhale slowly to try and calm your racing heart.

"Easy, Y/N,” Bucky soothes. You feel his hand on the back of your head, and then it traces over your body down to the small of your back. It should feel weird—nobody except Natasha has touched you so affectionately in so long—but instead, it feels natural. It soothes your ragged nerves and you feel your shoulders relax as his hand lingers. His warmth is noticeable through your shirt, even in the freezing winter air.

“You have that picture in your head now?” he murmurs, and you nod. “Good. Picture yourself as your wolf, and then reach for it.”

Confused, you hesitantly raise one hand and reach away from your body, grasping at nothing. Bucky chuckles, and then you feel his hand around yours. He laces your fingers together and you open your eyes. You turn your head to meet his gaze, and he’s smiling fondly at you.

“You’re funny, Маленький.”

Heat blossoms in your cheeks at his praise, and you silently preen under his doting stare. The next time you hear he speaks, his voice echoes in your head rather than in your ears.

“Good job, Y/N. How do you feel?”

You frown at him, confused by the question. Nothing has happened yet. “Fine, why?”

Bucky chuckles. “You shifted. How do you feel?”

It takes a second, but you realize after a second that he’s right. You have shifted, and you don’t feel that much different than before.

The world around you seems like a whole new world, though it’s just your backyard. You turn in a circle, taking in the different smells and sounds that you couldn’t sense before. It’s warmer now, too, and you attribute that to your thick gray coat. Everything is taller. Before, the dark muddled the trees and the snow clouded your vision, but now you can see clearly. Everything seems sharper and a lot easier to decipher.

When you turn back to Bucky, he’s shifted as well. The snowflakes disappear into his fur and he’s the picture of majesty standing in the moonlight amongst the dark evergreens. It’s breathtaking. You step forward, approaching him on impulse, but he ruins the picture and stops you in your tracks when he bows down like a dog ready to play, his tail wagging and tongue sticking out.

You snort. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe. Bet you can’t catch me,” he shoots back.

Narrowing your eyes, you huff. A puff of white rises in front of you when your breath hits the nighttime air. “And if I do?” you ask.

“I’ll cook you dinner every night for a week.”

“A month.”

“Two weeks.”

“On your mark—”

Bucky dashes into the forest before you can even finish the phrase and you bark, then leap into action. You’re panting as you chase him, dodging trees and jumping over fallen logs like you’d been doing it since birth. The snow does little to slow either of you down, and it’s not until you’re scrambling to the top of a pile of rocks that you realize just how far from the cottage you’ve gotten. You’re barely even winded, and the thought makes your heart soar.

You can see the cottage in the distance, just past the treeline. The windows are dark and if you didn’t trust Bucky as much, you would have been worried that you didn’t leave a light on to help you find your way home. Up above, the moon shines bright over the forest, illuminating the bare branches laden with thin lines of snow. There are no animals in sight, but you know that if you were to come to this very spot any other time of year, you’d be gifted with the sight of baby birds in their nests. There would be squirrels chasing each other and foxes slinking through the brush, and everything would be humming with the energy of new life. Now, however, it’s calm and still. You understand why Bucky likes to run at night.

Stars twinkle above you too, and you marvel at the sight. They’re clearer now that you’re a wolf. Somehow, though you’re not truly surprised, you can tell exactly which one points you north, and you can smell the smoke from another cabin’s fireplace coming from the east.

The view is distracting enough that you almost miss Bucky ducking for cover near a large snow bank. Silently, you drop down and crawl off the rocks, all the while trying to keep your approach quiet and emotions steady. You haven’t been a lycan for long, but you’ve learned enough to know that either one of those things could give you away. He could very easily pick up on your sense of victory or the soft crunch of snow beneath your paws.

Bucky has his back to you when you peek around the side of the bank. His ears are pricked, like he’s listening for you, but he doesn’t react until you’re practically on top of him. When you’re there, he flips onto his back and the two of you wrestle until he gives. You nip at his ear before giving him space, panting as you stand a few feet away.

“You’re a fast learner,” he finally says, and you can feel the warmth he feels for you in the center of your chest.

You’re almost bashful as you reply, “You’re a good teacher. And you were right, this is fun. Is it always like this when you have a pack?”

He starts walking and you come alongside him, matching your steps to his. “Sometimes,” Bucky replies. “We have fights, just like all families do, but our bonds with each other are deeper. When you’re part of a pair, your mate can feel what you feel. It’s part of what separates us from werewolves.”

His words make you pause, but you quickly right yourself. Mates?

“Does that make us mates?” you ask.

Bucky stops and looks over at you. “What?”

“Are we mates?”

“We barely know each other, Y/N. How could we be mates?”

You hesitate. “Well, I can feel what you feel. Can’t you?”

He falls silent, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you prompt. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he continues to stare at you in utter silence.

Have I done something wrong? Is that not something you’re supposed to talk about? Is there something wrong with me because I can sense his emotions? Does he already have a mate?

Finally, he answers, stopping your whirling thoughts in their tracks. “I didn’t think you’d catch on so quickly. I was hoping I had more time to figure it out.”

“Figure it out?” You glance around the woods. “Are we really mates? Is that true?”

He nods, cautious. His fear and apprehension slips in past your defenses, worming its way into your heart. You whine and shift uncomfortably. It’s hard to tell if it’s just his fear alone or if you’re feeling the same way.

“We are, yeah,” he murmurs. He steps forward, entering your personal space, and rests his head against yours for a moment. The proximity soothes your nerves and you exhale slowly as he steps away again.

“So… what does that mean, exactly?”

Bucky sits. His ears twitch slightly when an owl hoots and the wind blows through, swirling more snow into the air around you. You copy him and wait for him to speak again.

“It means that we have a deeper connection that you will with other lycans, like Steve. You won’t be able to sense them and you won’t feel at ease around them. Being someone’s mate doesn’t determine your relationship with that person though, like it does with animals. Some lycan mates don’t have any kind of romantic relationship. They’re simply partners, friends. They work well as a team and they’re always respected in their pack.”

“A lycan dream team,” you supply, and he chuckles.

“Exactly.”

“And what about the others? The ones that do have a romantic relationship?”

“Those lycans live together. They become a couple, and we even have a special marriage ceremony to seal a vow between them that makes their bond stronger,” he explains. “Sometimes they’ll have kids, but sometimes not. We’re not a lot different from humans in that respect.”

You stay silent and look towards the thicker part of the forest as you process his words. Though it’s dark, your heightened senses allow you to see farther than you normally would. The smoke from the cabin in the east has dissipated into the night air, leaving only the fresh smell of snow and Bucky. Even in what could be an incredibly awkward conversation or frightening experience, you’re immensely comforted by his presence. You don’t feel the need to shy away from the tough questions or new feelings he brings up.

“Then we don’t need to force anything? We can just be friends?” you ask him, and Bucky nods. You tilt your head, smiling at him as well as you can in your wolf form. “Okay. I’d like that. If something else develops, would you be okay with that? With me?”

His eyes soften. “Of course I would, Y/N. I’m always okay with you.”

Russian Translations:

Меня зовут Джеймс Бьюкенен Барнс, и я не причиню вреда. = My name is James Buchanan Barnes and I mean no harm.

Y/N говорит, что ты ликантроп и что ты им был еще до того, как спас ее. Ты помогал ей все эти годы только для того, чтобы залезть к ней в штаны? = Y/N says that you’re a lycanthrope and that you were one even before you saved her. Have you been helping her all these years just to get in her pants?

Я родился ликантропом и был узником ГИДРЫ в то же время, что и Т/И. Они ставили эксперименты на мне, и я почти уверен, что они использовали мою ДНК, чтобы мутировать ее. Мне жаль. Из-за этого мы связаны. Она попросила меня остаться, но если ты хочешь, чтобы я ушел, я уйду. = I was born a lycanthrope and was a prisoner of HYDRA at the same time as Y/N. They experimented on me and I'm pretty sure they used my DNA to mutate hers. I'm sorry. Because of this, we are connected. She asked me to stay, but if you want me to leave, I will.

Маленький = little one

Синица = chickadee

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 1 year

Text

Wild (2/4)

Pairing: Lycanthrope!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Shifting from wolf to human and vice versa, mentions of captivity and torture, brief language

Summary: Over the years, Y/N has found that in times of great need, a wolf appears to aid her. She relies on its presence until one day, her wolf is in need of her help instead.

A/N: This is part two of the four-part mini-series “Wild”. I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think. As always, thank you for reading and supporting me in all the ways you do. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

что за черт = what the hell

два волка = two wolves

Маленький = little one

синица = chickadee

Previous Part | Miniseries Masterlist

You sigh and blink your eyes open, immediately huffing in irritation at the itchiness crawling over your skin. It’s warmer in your room than normal, almost too warm.

That’s what I get for letting the wolf sleep in the bed. Next trip to the store I’m getting him a dog bed, you think as you move to sit up.

Almost immediately you could tell that something’s wrong. Your balance is off and your limbs feel too short and stiff. When you open your mouth, your jaw feels out of place. The shout that leaves your mouth at the strange feeling comes out as a bark and you quickly go to cover your mouth, only to hit yourself in the face.

The wolf sits up in bed beside you, the mattress jostling as it jerks away when you bark.

“You shifted!”

You twist around in the bed, looking around the room for the owner of the strange voice, but the only other being is the wolf. Your second attempt to talk is just as fruitless and amusement dances in the wolf’s blue eyes.

“You don’t need to speak aloud to talk to me. Just think about what you want to say. I know it’s a big change for you.”

Frozen in place, you stare at the wolf. I’m going crazy. I’ve finally lost my mind.

The wolf gives you a charming doggish smile and it pants happily for a moment. It ducks its head down and leans in closer, sniffing. You veer away from it on instinct and wrinkle your nose, but that sensation feels wrong too and you shudder from head to toe. Behind you, something hits the lamp on your bedside table, knocking it to the floor. It crashes against the line boards and shatters. Some of the porcelain slides under the bed and under the door while the rest turns the floor into a minefield.

On the other side of the wall, you hear Natasha shout out in Russian. Her quick footsteps follow, and a second later, the door opens to reveal the barrel of her gun pointed directly at you. She falters when you meet her eyes.

“что за черт?” She looks between you and the wolf. “два волка?”

You frown at her. “Nat, what are you talking about?”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” The strange baritone in your head speaks up again and you jump, leaping off the bed. It isn’t until you land on a large lamp shard that you realize you’re suddenly much, much shorter than you were before.

Natasha flinches and a shot rings out. The bed frame splinters just to your right and you stumble away from it and towards the dresser, veering out of her line of sight.

The white wolf barks and bares its teeth at your roommate. It leaps down from the bed in one smooth motion, then positions itself between the two of you.

Your lungs are burning inside your chest as your mind tries to catch up with what’s happening. You’ve only just woken up and now Natasha, your closest friend and confidant, is trying to shoot you. A voice in your head has appeared that hadn’t been there before and you’ve suddenly shrunk down to the height of Nat’s hips. The full-length mirror leaning up against the wall is only a few inches away and you scoot forward to catch a glimpse of yourself.

A wolf stares back at you. With gray fur and a body only slightly smaller in size than the white wolf, the only thing that seems to be the same in your reflection is your eyes. They’re the same color as normal, and they don’t hold the same gaze you’ve seen before in the animals that venture out from the forest. Your eyes are very clearly human.

Holy shit. I’m a wolf!

The realization comes just as Natasha shouts your name into the hallway in hopes that you’d somehow escaped your room before the chaos.

Tentatively, you weave around the white wolf and approach her, keeping your body low and as non-threatening as possible. Walking with four legs and a lower center of gravity proves to be a challenge, but you finally put yourself at her feet, hoping you seem as submissive as possible. Your ears flatten themself on instinct and you hope that’s a good thing in this situation.

She falters at your act and though he’s behind you, you can feel the waves of anxiety rolling off the wolf.

“Y/N? Are you home?” she calls, barely casting a glance into the main part of the cabin.

You whine in response, staring up at her.

“Where did you come from, маленький? Are you our wolf friend’s little mate?” Natasha asks.

Shuddering at the idea, you sit up. She laughs.

“No? Then maybe you’re his sister?” You shake your head and Nat raises an eyebrow. She glances between you and the second wolf. “A pack member?”

The wolf behind you barks, but you huff in irritation. Natasha is one of the best agents of all time, yet she’s suddenly incapable of ever figuring out your true identity.

You shake your head again. “This is pointless.”

“Try closing your eyes and picturing yourself as a human. That usually works for me.”

You whirl around, staring wide-eyed at your white wolf. He blinks at you, feigning innocence.

“Excuse me?” you ask. The words slip from your muzzle in two sharp yips. You startle at the sound, the fur on the back of your neck standing on end. You shiver from head to toe at the strange sensation.

“Close your eyes and imagine your human body. It will probably come easily for you, considering this is the first time you’ve ever shifted,” the second wolf tells you. “At least that I know of,” he adds.

Glancing up at Natasha, you lay on the floor with your head on your front paws and close your eyes. It takes all your concentration to conjure up the image of yourself in your head rather than listen to what she’s doing above you.

A strange pulling sensation spreads up your spine and you groan, following your instincts and stretching your arms above your head. You point your toes and arch your back before finally relaxing and shivering as your muscles adjust back into place.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, then slowly push yourself up into a sitting position on the floor. Natasha stares at you in utter shock, her gun at her side as the white wolf behind you creeps up and presses its nose against your cheek. Absently, you reach up with the hand closest to stroke its ears.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Natasha asks. Her eyes flit between you and the wolf, and you drop your hand upon realizing that you were petting it. The wolf whines and sits down beside you.

“I— I have no clue. I just woke up and I was a wolf. I—“ You stop yourself from telling her that you could hear the wolf speaking to you in your mind. It feels wrong to give her that information, and the sudden shame of betrayal swirls in your gut.

Swallowing thickly, you climb to your feet and look yourself over. Gray fur coats almost every inch of your pajamas and you frown as you attempt to brush yourself off. The fur doesn’t budge. Beside you, the wolf stands and crowds closer, almost pressing against your leg.

Natasha looks between you and the wolf again. “Did I miss something?”

You take a step away and the wolf follows. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

The room falls silent as you and Natasha try to come up with some semblance of a reasonable explanation. Finally, she asks, “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” you repeat.

She nods and slips the gun into the waistband of her sweatpants. “Yes, breakfast. You’re normally starving by now, синица.”

“You’re not… Scared that I’ll turn into a wolf again?”

Surprisingly, Nat laughs. She runs her fingers through her hair, tugging out tangles. “I’ve faced much scarier things. A wolf I can handle.”

You smile a little, relieved that she isn’t immediately ready to kick you out of the cabin, then nod. “Breakfast sounds good.”

The two of you head to the kitchen with the wolf on your heels, and it’s easy to fall into your usual morning routine. You bump hips with her occasionally as you move around the kitchen to make your coffee and breakfast. Natasha hums to herself, too, and it’s all so familiar that you find yourself smiling as you sneak the white wolf tiny pieces of bacon from your plate.

“I was thinking about heading into town,” Natasha says as she settles at the table. “Text me what you want from the store.”

You nod and glance down at the wolf. He’s been sitting at your feet, almost on top of them, and he’s close to pressing up against your leg. “We should get him a bed. He’s too big to be sharing with me.”

The wolf lets out a huff of indignation and you both pause, then fall into laughter. You finish your breakfast in a comfortable silence after settling back down, and soon Natasha is slipping on her boots by the front door. It snowed last night while you were all sleeping, and she’s going to have to wade through several inches of snow to get to her truck. Thankfully, you’d gotten a text alert from the local sheriff’s office that they’ve been out clearing the roads since the snow stopped shortly after midnight, so you’re not worried about her safely making it to the store and back. Besides, Natasha’s always been able to take care of herself, unlike you.

Frowning at the suddenly bitter thought, you hand off the last bit of bacon to your wolf and push your chair from the table, standing so you could load the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes.

“Drive safe,” you tell her, more out of habit than anything.

“I always do, синица,” she calls back as she shuts the door behind her.

You sigh as a weighty silence falls over the cabin. It’s like a wet wool blanket, suffocating the life out of your spirit whenever Nat’s gone. You never know what to do with yourself. Sure, you can go run errands on your own, but staying home with only just your thoughts and memories often proves to be too much.

A cold, wet nose against your hand makes you jump and you look down to see the wolf staring up at you with curious eyes.

“Can you still hear me?”

You jump even higher at the sound of his voice inside your head, and the ceramic plate in your hand clatters into the sink full of dishes. It chips against the metal and you curse, fishing out the shard before it can get lost amongst the mess and cause even more damage. You toss it into the trash can, stepping warily around the humongous white wolf standing in the middle of the kitchen.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he says, a hint of mirth in his eyes. His voice has the same timbre as before, but it seems farther away and less clear when you’re in your normal body. It’s still in your head, though, echoing and bouncing around like the space between your ears is empty.

“This is crazy,” you hiss at him. “What the hell is going on?”

He blinks. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t understand? I thought it was pretty obvious.”

That makes you laugh. It’s a humorless laugh and he doesn’t seem to like it.

“What’s obvious? The fact that I can somehow magically turn into a wolf and then back into a human again? The fact that I can also somehow hear you in my head and you can understand English perfectly, despite the fact that you’re a wolf?”

The wolf huffs and stands a little taller, lifting its head proudly. “I’m a lycanthrope, or a lycan, as are you, though I suspect you weren’t born one. We can shift into a wolf form at any time, unlike werewolves.” He sounds indignant and your skin prickles at his tone, as well as the implications of his words.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You grab the towel from the counter and sling it over your shoulder as you begin to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher. “A lycanthrope? What the hell even is that? Also, I think I would know if I became something other than human. That seems like something that doesn’t happen on its own.”

He steps closer and peers into the dishwasher, then back at the sliding glass door. The dead grass outside is covered with a hefty layer of wet snow, as are the evergreen trees that stand at the edge of the forest. Further in its depths there are more trees, ones that you know are certainly barren this time of year, but the evergreens make for a beautiful sight in the winter, and for that you’re thankful. You’ve spent so many years surrounded by nothing but pain and death that living someplace that looked so depressing for months on end would certainly do you in.

“It doesn’t. My guess is the people that held you captive—that held us captive—did something to your DNA. Maybe they figured out what made my DNA different from yours and then forced the mutation. I’ve never heard of it, but I saw the technology they had.”

You almost lose your grip on the mug you’re placing in the top rack. Setting it in its place, you stare at the wolf in silence for a long moment as you try to process what he’s just said.

“Us?” you finally murmur. It feels like all the fight has drained out of your body at the mention of HYDRA, and you lower yourself to sit on the floor with your back against the cabinets. The wolf stands on the opposite side of the dishwasher and watches you over the empty bottom rack.

“Yes,” he answers. “When you escaped, I did too. I was in better shape than you, and I followed you to make sure you got someplace safe. I didn’t let you see me until you needed help.”

“Why? You didn’t even know me. You could’ve gotten farther away if you hadn’t helped me…”

He sighs, his whole body heaving, then rounds the dishwasher so that there’s nothing separating you. His voice is soft when he speaks again. “I don’t know. I was barely myself back then. Sometimes it feels like I’m still not. I just… knew I had to help you. There’s something that connects us, even now. I know you can feel it too.”

You could, but you weren’t going to admit that. “So you’re saying that they studied you and used what they learned on me?” You pull your legs up close and try to keep your breathing even. Something inside of you is fluttering around, beating up against the inside of your sternum. It’s like an itch you can’t figure out how to scratch and you shiver.

“You need to shift again. Now that you’ve shifted for the first time, the need to be in your wolf form will happen more frequently,” he explains. “We can go outside the woods and run, if you’d like.”

Frantically, you shake your head with wide eyes. “No! Absolutely not. I’m a person. I’m not…”

“A lycan.”

“A wolf,” you huff.

He sits and his long, fluffy tail sweeps over the tile. His fur has gotten much longer since he arrived and you briefly wonder if you’ll need to trim it for him, especially around his eyes and ears.

“You’re a lycan, Y/N.” The sound of him saying your name makes you shiver again and you curl up tighter. “You can be human, but you can also be a wolf. Both forms will feel natural to you, though your wolf body will be a bit awkward in the beginning, since you haven’t used it much. Usually the clumsiest stage of our lives happens when we’re children, but that comes with the territory no matter who a young child is—human, lycan, or otherwise.”

The whole situation is ridiculous and you inhale sharply, pressing your face against your knees as you try to wrap your head around it. There’s no way that you are what he says you are, right? You would have noticed. Surely, you would have noticed.

“If… If you’re a lycanthrope…” You say, slowly putting puzzle pieces together one at a time as you stare down at your legs. “Then you have a human body.”

“I do,” the wolf replies.

“Did we ever cross paths? Back…?” You can’t bring yourself to speak about your time imprisoned by HYDRA, but he understands you nonetheless.

“I don’t think so. I would remember someone as pretty as you. I’d remember how you make me feel.”

Your cheeks burn hot even as you hide your face from his piercing gaze. It’s always felt as if he can peer into your soul, but now it feels even more so. The connection you have with him has increased tenfold since this morning, and it feels as if you can feel everything that he’s feeling, most especially how he feels about you. It’s… striking, to say the very least. The adoration, intrigue, and love he feels for you despite your reluctance makes you want to scream.

“I don’t even know your name,” you finally reply, softly, desperate not to break the spell of silence that falls in the kitchen. He’s giving you room to think, waiting for you to speak.

“James,” the wolf tells you. He lays down at your feet and his tail sweeps over the tile again, bumping against your ankles. “But my friends call me Bucky.”

“Your friends? You mean the lion?” You lift your head to look at him.

Bucky watches you carefully. “Yes. His name is Steve.”

“Was he… Did they do something to him, too?”

“I don’t know. He… He found me sometime after we escaped. We were friends as kids, before they captured me. He was too weak as a kid to shift, but after he helped me get back to my normal self, he showed me what he could do. I guess it’s only fitting that he’s the only lycan I’ve ever met that can shift into anything other than a wolf.”

You hum, closing your eyes and resting your chin on your knees. Bucky’s voice inside your head and the calm demeanor he’s expressing is enough to soothe you a little, and you take the moment to think about how he makes you feel. He’s always been there in your worst moments and he’s never hurt you. It’s a good feeling, to know you’re safe around a creature so large and wild.

“What do you look like?” you ask after a few more minutes have passed. You know that Nat’s probably on her way back from the store by now and you’ll feel guilty later for not having the kitchen cleaned up for her, but you can’t bring yourself to move away from him, especially when your curiosity’s got the best of you.

“Would you like to see?”

Opening your eyes, you nod. Bucky stands and stretches, bowing down and yawning in a dog-like manner. You chuckle and he shoots you a dirty look once he’s standing upright again.

“You’re just a big puppy,” you tease.

“Only around you,” he shoots back. “I’m fearsome to most people, your roommate included.”

“Natasha?” Bucky nods in response. “I’m pretty sure she was shooting at me this morning, not you. She knows you wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He doesn’t seem to want to argue, because Bucky simply heads out of the kitchen and down the hall. You get up and follow him before he can get too far. Once in the bathroom, he nudges the door closed with his massive snout.

“What are you doing?”

Pausing, he peers out at you from the small opening left between the door and the frame. His blue eyes practically glow in the dark bathroom. A shiver runs down your spine at the sight. If you saw that staring out at you from the woods at night, you’d definitely run in the opposite direction.

“The first time you watch someone shift can be… jarring. It’s also a very private matter,” he explains.

“You watched me shift this morning,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, I didn’t. I looked away when it seemed that you’d be able to, and I waited until I could sense your human presence again before looking back.”

You press your lips together, irritated that he’d been able to prove you wrong, and watch as he shuts the door the rest of the way. It clicks and a second later you can hear muffled noise from behind the door, then a long, pained groan.

“Bucky?” you call, a tinge of fear working its way into your stomach. Was he hurt? When he doesn’t answer you, try again. “Bucky, are you okay?”

The sink turns on, then off again, and then the door opens wide. You blink, your mouth falling open as you take in Bucky’s human form.

His wolf form is already massive, and rightfully so. His very human shoulders fill the doorway so much that he not only has to duck down so the top of his head doesn’t hit the top of the door frame, but he also has to turn to the side so his shoulders don’t bump into it either. Black hair brushes across the tops of those shoulders, shiny and smooth. It’s the same shade as his coat was the first time you’d met in the forest. His jawline is sharp and shaded with dark stubble. His eyes, thankfully, remain the same fierce shade of blue.

“Oh.”

Bucky smiles, fidgeting. The long sleeves of his red henley are ragged and stretched tight over the muscles of his arms and chest. He plays with the loose threads that brush over his hands as he steps forward into the hallway. He’s in dark jeans with white socks, as well, and you briefly wonder how long it had been since he’d changed clothes, or if he’s kept the same outfit for years at a time. His clothes, miraculously, aren’t covered with his fur like yours were this morning, and you point that out instead of voicing your very articulate thoughts on just how beautiful you think he is.

“It takes practice,” is his response, and you roll your eyes with a smile.

“How long have you been able to do this?” you ask.

He stands in the middle of the hallway while you lean against the wall, and you can sense that he feels incredibly exposed. Everything about him suddenly seems off-kilter and you quickly reach out to take his hand.

“It’s okay, James,” you say. His name—his real name—comes instinctively and the effect is immediate. His shoulders relax and he laces his fingers with yours, his lips forming a soft smile at your touch.

“Since birth,” he answers. “I first shifted on my seventh birthday, as most lycanthrope children do. It was strange at first, but now I can shift easily and without a single thought.”

“And do you always keep your clothes?”

He nods, nudging your hand to move you forward. You lead him back to the kitchen table, where you both sit. You take your normal seat and he takes the third, which has been empty since you and Nat had purchased the table. The fourth chair that came with the set had been sacrificed during a particularly cold winter two years ago, but the third somehow felt too important to burn. Now you know why—it was meant for Bucky.

“Unless you don’t want to, but I like mine. They’re comfortable and they keep me warm at night if I shift after running in the woods.”

You shift in your seat a little, glancing out the sliding doors. “You mentioned that earlier. Running in the woods, I mean.”

Snow has started to fall outside once more and you and Bucky watch it for a moment before looking back at each other. He smiles softly.

“I like to run. It makes me feel… free. The woods are a good place for it, especially since people won’t be surprised to see a wolf there. It’s usually a little harder for me to hide, but with all the snow recently, I’ve been able to go out every night.”

“How did I not hear you?” you marvel at him, and Bucky chuckles.

“You sleep like the dead, маленький.”

You wrinkle your nose. Your Russian is lacking, but you know enough to translate the word. “Маленький? Small?”

He’s still smiling as he reaches across the table and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. Though his fingers are warm, you shiver under his touch.

“Little one,” he corrects, and he hooks a finger under your chin so he can hold your gaze. “I’ve never been able to part from you. I hope you know that I never want to, but if this is all too much for you, I can leave and give you space.”

A sharp knife of fear slices through your chest and you quickly shake your head. You reach out with both hands, taking his in yours. “No. I want you to stay. I don’t know how, but I think… I think we belong together, somehow. I want to learn about you and about being a lycan and about your friends. I want to meet them, too.”

“And you will,” he earnestly responds.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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