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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

Time had passed since you last saw the Viking galloping down the trails, and in his absence, your heart grew steadily fonder of the stranger — of his kindness, his softness. Fate, however, knew of this and sent a gift of its own your way, in the form of a proud steed, ridden by your Viking.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 2.6k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ⇁ Full of bonding moments thanks to @sgt-seabass — thank you for the ideas, babe!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ⇁ Algir — Tognatale by Warduna

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ⇁ @the-slumberparty Week 2 Blast From the Past Challenge — Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Cycles and cycles of Sol and Mani passed after the hunter had taken your gift back to his people. You hadn’t seen him travelling or passing through your home, the small creek having ebbed and flowed in size in his absence. Many creatures had flitted about the trail where the Viking’s horse had proudly strode, though none lived up to the majesty of the steed that snorted like an ormslíki.

You knew it was forbidden - speaking to the hunter, the Viking, you risked so much to do so, but like a forbidden fruit, the longer you ignored the curiosity, the more it became unbearable.

The moss on the forest’s floor had grown and become spongy under foot, while ivy and bushes spread and grew to cover fallen trunks of trees, boulders, and stones. A small path was woven amongst the still standing trees that lead to the main trail and you followed it, wandering slowly and carefully amongst the brush and creatures that flocked to follow you.

It was peaceful. Quiet, hauntingly quiet, when all you wanted to hear was the sound of heavy hoofbeats and proud snorting, and the rich sound of the Viking’s voice.

Your dress flowed in the breeze as you walked, the hem never catching on brambles and weeds. It had been woven by your mother centuries ago, where magic and cloth could be combined as one - a tradition that had long since passed with the ages.

The song of your people left you in a soft hum and carried in the slight wind, but by no means had you expected it to reach as far to actually be heard by someone.

Hoofbeats pounded the earth in the distance and you froze. The animals at your feet scattered at the sound and bolted past the tree line, out of sight. There was no way to distinguish just who it was, and you were too close to the main trail by now to run to safety, towards home. You cursed and ducked behind a fallen limb of a tree - the advantage of being a descendent of Faefolk was that you were small, delicate, you could hide somewhat out of sight while whoever it was passed by.

However, fate was not so kind.

“Hey! Hey, I see you!” The voice was loud over the thunderous hoofbeats and proud snorting, the richness of the stranger’s tone familiar… “I thought I would never see you again, little Mouse.”

Mouse? Little Mouse?

You peered over a knot in the trunk and your eyes widened when they landed upon the stranger and his horse. It was him, the one human that had captured your train of thought and imagination since he had kneeled at your creek. He was back.

“Hello,” he said softly, smiling down at you in your not-so-hidden hiding place. You met his gaze, then glanced down at the flash of ivory in the sun; an animal’s skull was covering the fastening of leather and buckles for his bear skin cloak. Your gift. “I have been searching for you,” he continued and you looked back up to study his expression - it was open, kind. “Your gift was beautiful and I wanted to thank you–my people thought me mad going on constant hunting trips. I just had to find you.”

“Me?” You squeaked, widening your eyes and shrinking down into the soft, mossy forest floor.

“Yes, you, little Mouse.” He dismounted swiftly and eyed the trunk with amusement, a slight quirk to his lips. “Why are you hiding?”

“I was s-scared,” you tried, slowly getting to your feet and looking him briefly in the eye. His stare was too intense to hold.

The Viking frowned slightly, a line forming between his brows. “Your people are not very…”

“No, we are not.” Your tone was instinctually defensive and you winced, not wanting to offend him. Hearing the words from his lips, you feared, would break your heart. It was true, your people had been hunted for sport and taken as thralls for as long as the tales had been written. It had been a miracle, a gift from the gods, that he hadn’t taken you with him when he first saw you all that time ago. He had proven himself to be different to his kinfolk, and you maybe trusted him slightly more than what was safe because of it.

“Where is your home from here, Mouse?”

You pointed back through the trees towards a mass collection of boulders. “Over there.”

“I brought you a gift,” he continued, grabbing the reins of his horse and stepping closer. “I thought with the change coming so soon, you would need something…”

“Something?” You prompted; brow raised.

He looked to be considering his words. “I feel uncomfortable, Mouse,” he opted instead and you waited. “I don’t know who you are and yet… I am drawn back to you, and you don’t even know my name, nor do I know yours.”

The horse snorted and pawed the ground, and you swore if you looked closely, the steed was rolling his eyes in annoyance. It was an effort to suppress the laugh that grew in your chest. Instead, you prompted the Viking again, “No, I do not,” you said, smiling. “But you look like a giant bear.”

Laughter bellowed from the man and he was grinning, shaking his head in mirth. “A bear, you say?” You nodded and stepped over the log, forcing him to step back - you wanted to be closer, to investigate the craftsmanship of his armour, you lied. “Well, my name is Bucky, but you, you adorable little Mouse, can call me Bear–if you so wish.”

“Bucky Bear…”

Bucky just stared at you, his expression flat and unimpressed. “Very funny.”

“I know,” you giggled. “Come,” you said, grabbing his considerably larger hand in yours and offering your name. “Let me take you to my home.”

Both Bucky and his horse followed you through the trees, and you couldn’t hide the quick glances towards the steed. If it were even possible, his coat gleamed like freshly fallen snow under bright sólskin, and black dapples decorated his strong legs and proud face. Bucky seemed to have caught you in the act, however. “What is it, Mouse?”

You glanced up at Bucky and then back to the steed, when Bucky came to a stop. “Your horse,” you began, shuffling closer while the steed turned his head and looked at you, his eyes soft and calm. “What is his name?”

“This is Ragnar,” Bucky said softly. “He has been with me through many battles and carried me home wounded and at the door of Valhalla more times than I can count.”

Tentatively, you reached a hand out for Ragnar to sniff at, but the stallion forwent it and chose to nuzzle into your hand instead, a squeak of shock leaving you before you could master the impulse.

“Here,” Bucky started, stepping back until he stood behind the saddle. “Hop up.”

“I-I cannot-”

“Yes, you can,” Bucky assured, using the grip he had on your hand to pull you closer. Ragnar seemed to sense your unease and he stood still; a creature carved from stone. “I will help you.”

“Okay,” you whispered, standing next to the stallion and in front of Bucky. You couldn’t even see over the other side of Ragnar’s back. “What if I fall?”

“I will catch you,” Bucky said, incredulous, like it wasn’t obvious. “Now,” Bucky bent down and fitted his hands under your arms–you prayed he wouldn’t feel the hammering of your heart. “I will lift you up, and you just have to swing one leg over. Understood?”

You nodded and Bucky smiled. Air rushed around you as he heaved you up, and you swung a leg over the other side of Ragnar’s back, settling into the saddle with a shaky laugh. “Look at that!” Bucky cried; the pride evident in his voice. “You are a natural already! Hold on now, little Mouse.”

Bucky scratched Ragnar’s cheek and the steed nickered, an unspoken promise that he would not throw you - though you still held onto the saddle for dear life when Ragnar began to walk further into the trees.

“You can pet him, if you want,” Bucky said, falling in step beside you so his shoulder bumped your knee. “Ragnar would like it.”

“O-Okay,” you stammered. Ragnar’s coat beneath your fingertips was soft like a cloud, and the muscles in his shoulders rippled as he walked ever so slowly and carefully. “He is so soft.”

Bucky grinned up at you, and you smiled back.

The hill by the boulders proved to be a challenge, and the first few steps that Ragnar took tilted you forward. “Hold on now, Mouse,” Bucky reminded you, careful to stay right beside you while Ragnar navigated the rocks and branches.

“That’s it, boy,” Bucky said when Ragnar slowed his steps, his shoulders jarring and shifting with the steepness. “Easy now.”

Bucky’s connection with Ragnar warmed your heart, but a gasp of fear left you when Ragnar stepped too far down and you tipped sideways, only to land in Bucky’s arms. You looked around wildly while Bucky chuckled softly. “I told you I would catch you if you fell, little Mouse.”

“T-Thank you,” you murmured. It was nice to be held, you admitted - even in such circumstances.

“Do you want to try getting back in the saddle,” Bucky asked, still holding you to his chest. “Or do you want to walk?”

You shut down the thought that you wished he had offered to carry you instead. “I will walk, I think.”

Bucky nodded and placed you on your feet gently. With you in the lead, the three of you made your way down the steep hillside and towards your creek which flowed freely, lapping at the banks of grass on either side. Ragnar snorted once his feet reached even ground and you wandered over to pat him. “Good boy, Ragnar.”

“Don’t give him an ego, Mouse,” Bucky huffed before jumping down from a boulder. “I will never hear the end of it if you do.”

“How can I give a precious creature such a thing,” you fired back, holding Ragnar’s head in your arms while you stared at Bucky, accusation painted in your furrowed brow and deep frown. “Ragnar does not have a stórlátr bone in his body.”

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, and I’m not a hersir.”

Ignoring Bucky’s feigned annoyance, you ran forward and grabbed his hand once more. He startled but you shushed him, leading him further down the bank where a log rested by a heap of stones; a place where you spent time amongst nature and caring for creatures. “Come, sit.”

The sight made you giggle - Bucky, a literal bear of a man, sat on the log and took up over half of it with his bulk and cloak. “What?”

“Nothing,” you assured, sitting down next to him. Bucky raised a brow as if to question you. “You are just very… big. You are a bear.”

“You’re very funny, Mouse, you know that, right?” Bucky deadpanned. Though the slight curl of his lips in a smirk gave him away.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence while Ragnar wandered about behind you. Eventually, Ragnar finally came to a stop next to you and lowered his head so his cheek brushed your temple. “Hello, boy,” you whispered, offering your hand to pet his muzzle.

“Ah, I forgot,” Bucky piped up suddenly, moving his cloak to the side to reveal a satchel. “Your gift, I packed it into my bag, I didn’t want it damaged on my journey.” Curious, you watched Bucky release the fastenings and buckles until he paused, looking back up at you. “Are you going to close your eyes, or?”

“Oh,” you rushed, shutting them quickly. “I’m sorry, I thought-”

“Do not apologise, little Mouse,” Bucky interrupted. “I just wanted it to be a surprise.” There were sounds of rustling and suddenly, something soft, fluffy, and heavy was placed in your lap, your hands immediately and instinctively moving to touch and investigate. You weren’t the only one, however. “Ragnar, no, out of it, boy,” Bucky rushed, and you felt Ragnar’s head move from your side, though he remained nearby. “Nosey skitr.”

You laughed softly, still running your hands along the soft bundle in your lap. “Open your eyes, Mouse,” Bucky said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

Bright daylight blinded you for a second until you focused on Bucky’s face, his expression happy, eager almost, and then you looked down at your lap to find a wolf’s pelt, as white as Ragnar, tightly furled. “Oh, my- Bucky-”

“To keep you warm,” Bucky explained, shuffling closer to you and opening the fur so it could drape over your lap. “I hunted the beast myself; I knew when I laid eyes upon the wolf it would be perfect.”

You looked up at Bucky, eyes wide and glassy; no one had ever given you such a thoughtful gift before. Your heart was so full it was fit to burst, and an outpour of adoration manifested before you could stop it.

Bucky was knocked back with the force of your hug and he let out an, “oof!” of surprise. Your arms were tight around his shoulders and you buried your face into the crook of his neck, where intricate stories were inked into his skin. Your legs straddled his thigh, and you squeaked in surprise when Bucky moved you so he could gain his balance again, now sitting upright and holding you to his chest.

“I take it you like my gift, little Mouse?” Bucky said, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nodded fervently, and pulled back to face him. Never before had you been so close to another person, a human, and the beauty of his face struck you. His eyes were even clearer up close, he had faint scars and freckles dotted along his skin, and his hair–you had thought it was black, but it was a dark brown. The urge to touch and run your hand through it reared its head, and you didn’t resist.

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he smirked. “Mouse? Did you like it?”

Your eyes roved from his hair to meet his gaze, and you smiled softly. “Yes, I love it,” you said quietly, before moving forward to kiss Bucky on the cheek. “Thank you, my Bear.”

Not one to tolerate being left out, Ragnar snorted and pushed his face into your shoulder, making you cackle and Bucky groan. “Streð mik, get out of it, you skitr!”

You made to move when Ragnar sidled off with a definite pout, but Bucky held you tight around your waist, unyielding and unwilling to let go. “No, no, please,” he whispered, moving one hand to his cloak and draping it around you. “Stay with me a while longer.”

In lieu of speaking and saying how much you had wanted this, you shifted and cuddled into his chest, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck.

After a while, you spoke up quietly, afraid to shatter the illusion–it was hard to believe that it wasn’t a dream. “I am glad you found me again, Bear.”

Bucky’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle and his grip around you tightened minutely. A sudden pressure atop your head made you gasp sharply in surprise. “‘S just me,” Bucky soothed, rubbing a hand up and down your spine. The weight of his cheek on your head settled and you calmed, entirely wrapped in his warmth; the furs and armour were nothing to the heat his body warmed you with.

“Me too, little Mouse,” Bucky whispered. “Me too.”

Ormslíki = Dragon Sólskin = Sunshine Stórlátr = Arrogant Skitr = Shit Streð mik = Fuck me

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #viking bucky #viking au #fae au #navy and roo's sleepover #rookthorne's works #ABE

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theinheriteddutchess · 5 months

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Blame @georgiapeach30513 because she's trying to make me insane!

#fae!bucky Barnes #ai fanart #bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #faerie au #dark!faerie!bucky Barnes #winter!faerie!bucky Barnes

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sjsmith56 · 11 days

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The Fae Elements, Part 4 - Hidden

Summary: Hidden together by magic in a forest sanctuary, Buck reveals more of Sage’s powers and his long-held interest in her. He also tells her more of his own past.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Buck, Sage, Dark Overlord (briefly)

Warnings: Some frank talk of sexuality and a brief moment of consensual sex (not descriptive except in a poetic sense?), feelings of shame from Buck at his own struggles.

Author notes: The images of fae Bucky above were created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode. I wish there was a way to tell the app to build upon a specific image but it kept bringing up different variations so that’s been written into the story.

<<Part 3

🌳 🪓 🏡

My first thought when I entered the cottage was that it was bigger on the inside. My second thought was why was there only one bed? An enigmatic smile appeared on Buck’s face as those thoughts entered my mind.

“Can you read my mind?” I asked, unsure whether I should be angry and more guarded with myself.

He shrugged. “I try not to, but sometimes your thoughts are very transparent and insert themselves into mine. It’s bigger on the inside because of magic. The outside, because it was built by my hands, never changes. There's only one bed now because it is a sanctuary for one, me. Hope originally lived with me until her 18th year then chose to live in the stronghold. When my children have been here since, they have used their own magic to construct their own structure. I can make one for you, if you wish, but it would be a basic hut as I’m at the limit of my own magic with everything here and some things outside. You’re my guest so you get the bed. The sofa isn’t that comfortable, but I meant what I said about respecting you.” My next thought must have been transparent because he grinned. “I have four children. Hope is the second youngest. She’s 335 years old. My youngest, a half-fae, Richard, is 78. He is the result of a night where my loneliness and the loneliness of a kind mortal woman coincided. He chose to live in the mortal world, and I respect his decision. I have two more sons, twins Arthur and John, who are 357 years old. Twins are a rarity in the fae world. They were the first children Daere and I had.”

“You had no others with your other wives?”

“No, Daere was mortal, like you,” he said, looking me in the eye. “She chose to undergo the ritual when we married and became more fertile than the others.” He grimaced a little, I guess he didn’t want to reveal that, then gestured with his hand. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

He led me up a set of stairs that was more of a ladder into the attic of the cottage. A window at each end provided light from the outside but as soon as we stepped into the space a host of candles lit up, showing a rustic bedroom with a large bed in front of one of the windows. There was living greenery hanging from the rafters and corners, giving the space a feeling of being in a greenhouse sanctuary. A doorway set in one side of the sloped roof led to a large dormer with a stunning bathroom containing a tub and separate shower. The thought of there being running water out here made me giggle and he looked at me with a questioning glance.

“Just the thought of having such a beautiful bathroom in such a rustic cottage made me wonder about how you would get running water out here. It’s magic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s magic,” he replied. “When I first built it, I used an outhouse and washed at the pump by the kitchen sink, but as personal hygiene improved over the centuries, I made improvements here as well. The addition was built by me, but the furnishings are all magic.”

“Were you always fae?” For a moment, I regretted my choice of words, but he must have sensed it because he smiled. “Sorry to be so nosy but you seem to like doing things by hand.”

“It’s a fair question to ask, since I admitted to building the structure manually, an unusual thing for my kind,” he answered. He breathed out. “I was half-fae, the result of a love affair between a mortal man and my fae mother, a descendant of Lilith. I lived with him for a time when I was searching for my own truth. He was a learned man who was a carpenter and taught me his trade. When it became evident that I had inherited my mother’s powers of longevity, and eternal youth, he encouraged me to join the world of the fae. It was the Middle Ages, and the plague took him in 1349 when I was away for a short time. I mourned him for he taught me much of how mortals live. It was a surprise to myself and to many when I was chosen as a candidate to be fae king. I became full fae upon my coronation.” He stepped towards the doorway. “I’m going to change and cut some wood for the fireplace and stove. There’s nothing like a fire to warm one’s soul. You can have the far dresser and closet in the room. Excuse me.”

He left me there in the bathroom, so I put my toiletries in the cabinet then ventured out to the bedroom, knocking before I came through. Buck was already gone so I put my clothes away and went down the ladder, noticing the candles in the bedroom went out behind me as I descended. I could hear the sound of an ax outside. Seeming to have found a steady rhythm of swinging and hitting the wood, I could hear it when he tossed the pieces into piles. While he did that, I looked around the main room of the cottage. There was a kitchen area, with a wood stove, sink with a pump beside it, shelves with plates, bowls, and drinking vessels. A cupboard was full of basic staples like sugar, salt, coffee, tea and the like. There was no refrigerator, although there was a pantry that seemed to have canned and dried foods. The fireplace area had two large armchairs facing it with a sofa behind them against the wall. There were bookshelves in many of the open spaces, full of many titles, both classic and modern.

When I finally made my way outside, I stopped in my tracks at the sight before me. Buck had taken his shirt off, displaying a broad muscular chest and shoulders. His biceps were impressive leading to powerful forearms with noticeable veins. On his left shoulder and chest was a large tattoo of a leafless tree, it’s branches seemingly splitting into infinity, with roots that went deep. It was very much in keeping with his presence in this forest. He turned towards me as I stepped out, smiling slightly at my sudden interest in his body.

“You up to some foraging? With your camping experience I would think you could tell edible mushrooms and berries from poisonous ones. There’s a basket with a handle in the kitchen. There should also be wild lettuce greens or fiddlehead greens near the trees. I would rather not fish or hunt for meat just yet. When we’ve been here a while, I’ll have a better idea of which animals are ready to leave their existence.”

He didn’t elaborate, returning to cutting the wood. Since our lunch had been interrupted, I was actually quite hungry. I found the basket and set out on a hunt for berries, finding strawberries mostly, and some fiddle head greens. I even found some asparagus, biting into one of the smaller stalks raw, enjoying the delicate taste. The mushrooms were another matter, and I brought a cloth to put the ones that looked closely like those I bought in the store, not wishing to contaminate the other food if they proved to be a poisonous variety. By the time I found my way back, which wasn’t hard, as all paths seemed to lead back to the cottage, Buck had finished cutting wood and started up the stove. He also put a shirt on, albeit one that seemed to display those impressive muscles quite well. He looked at the basket I was carrying.

“Well done,” he said. “Asparagus is still in season.” He lifted up the cloth to view the mushrooms, breathing their scent in. “They’re good, all of them. I should be able to make something quite tasty for us.”

He pulled some onions and garlic out of the pantry, chopping the former coarsely and the latter finely. Putting the onions on a low heat to sweat their juices out, he lightly sautéed the mushrooms whole, then took them out and added some chopped potatoes, which must have been hiding in the pantry as well, although I didn’t see them. After salting and peppering them he let them cook for a time while he used a gentle brush to clean the asparagus and fiddlehead greens. He did have some olive oil and poured some in a second pan, tossing the asparagus around first then removing it, and doing the same to the fiddlehead greens. Arranging everything on a platter he went into the pantry, coming out with a small jar with a round shaped dark brown mass inside. The mass glowed when he rested his hand on the jar for a moment, then he opened it and an earthy smell wafted out. He shaved several flakes of it off onto the food, then returned it to the jar, placing it under an enchantment again.

“Truffles,” he said. “Their smell and flavour are quite intense, so I just shave a little bit on. Since I don’t have a refrigerator, I have to use magic to preserve them.” He looked over at a cabinet. “There is some red wine inside there. The top row has some that don’t require a lot of airing. Any one of them should go with this little feast.”

I went to the cabinet, opening it to see a large selection inside and pulled a bottle from the top row. Bringing it over to the table as he brought the food and some dishes, as well as a couple of wine glasses, he opened the bottle with a corkscrew and poured it out into the glasses.

“No music, I’m afraid, except for the sound of the birds and the breeze outside.” He waited for me to sit, then sat across from me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone, fae or mortal. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given us. I think that fits.”

“Lord of the Rings,” I said, after we both sipped our wine, which was very very good. “Gandalf said that to Frodo.”

“I personally believe Tolkien knew a few fae,” replied Buck. “He certainly understood much of our world. Some mortals were capable of that.”

I cut one of the mushrooms in half and brought it up to my mouth. It was quite a difference tasting a freshly harvested mushroom from one that had sat on a store display for a time. The fiddlehead green was tender, as was the asparagus, while the potatoes seemed to be there to fill up our bellies with goodness. It was modest fare, but it was satisfying, and I thanked Buck for the tasty meal.

“Oh dear, you’ve said something you never should to a fae,” sighed Buck. “A mortal shouldn’t say thank you to a fae as it implies that you’re in their debt, in a contract you didn’t agree to. Instead, say I’m grateful. I’m worldly enough to know there is no obligation but certain fae would take advantage of your thanks.”

“Well then, I’m grateful for the meal and for everything you’ve done for me,” I stated. “I know I wasn’t the most understanding person in the Washington home but when Hope made it clear I’ve been under your protection for a long time I began to see things differently.”

“She shouldn’t have told you. What I said about not taking advantage is mostly true, but I am fae and there are times I let my own desires rule my actions.”

He picked up the dishes, taking them over to the sink. After filling a large pot with water, he set it on the wood stove to heat up, not making eye contact with me. At first, I watched, then I went over to where he stood, his back still to me, as he looked out the window to the early evening scene. Touching his arm gently brought a small smile to his face.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Because you might not like me after I tell you,” he answered, turning his gaze on me, “and I do like you very much. I have for a long time and have struggled not to let my personal feelings rule my decisions.”

Those blue eyes seemed uncertain, and I was intuitive enough to know that meant he had a hard truth to share. In my line of work there were many occasions when I needed to hear a hard truth. Sometimes we put people on a pedestal expecting a level of behaviour from them that is unrealistic, then are angry at them when they show they are human after all. Fae, or fairy people, in the stories I read were tiny creatures flitting about from flower to flower. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, they could be capricious, jealous creatures, sometimes doing something spiteful just so they could have their way, regardless of who it hurt.

The reality of meeting not just one fae but several had shown them to be physically attractive, although Buck had admitted his appearance wasn’t completely true. I had seen the wings and thought they were incredibly majestic. Physically he was a beautiful man with a poet’s soul. He startled me slightly, when I felt the touch of his fingertips on my cheek. His gaze was soft, seeming to stoke a response deep inside me, something I hadn’t really felt before.

“Let’s wash the dishes and relax for the evening,” he suggested. “Tomorrow, when we’ve both slept and had a chance to unwind from the events of today, I will tell you some things.”

When the water in the pot boiled, he poured it into the sink, adding a few pumps of cold water into it to make it manageable. Just like at the healing pond shower, there was a small sponge that lathered up as he wet it and rubbed it over the dishes. While he washed, I dried and put things back. When the pots were done, he pulled the sink plug and the water drained out to whatever magic septic tank system he had created in his sanctuary. The remaining wine was stoppered for consumption at another time.

With that agreed upon Buck picked a book out from a shelf and began reading. As it darkened outside, candles on the inside lit up, casting the space in a soft light. With a fire going in the fireplace, it was warm and cozy, as I settled in front of it, content to watch the flickering flames for my entertainment. I was tired and a lot of things had happened that I wanted to mull over in my own mind. Eventually, I could feel my head dropping as it became heavier.

“Sage,” said Buck, gently, kneeling beside the chair where I sat. “I think you should go to bed. I’m coming up to wash myself and grab some night clothes, but I’ll be out of your way quickly.”

With a nod, I stood up, then climbed the ladder ahead of him. As he disappeared into the bathroom, I chose some sleeping clothes then waited for my turn to wash up. As he exited, we said goodnight to each other and I washed, changed, then slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately feeling like I was sinking into something soft and warm.

I did wake up once and looked out the window. In the moonlight I could see a figure, who I assumed was Buck, but he was just far enough away that I couldn’t be sure. He faced the full light of the moon barefoot, wearing only a pair of cloth bottoms. His top was unclothed, and his arms were outstretched in the pale beams as if he was taking in its light for sustenance. His wings were also outstretched, almost straining to lift him up into the night sky. A bird swooped in close then landed and transformed into a dark-skinned man, his dark brown wings spreading apart. When he turned to face the moon’s light it seemed to be Sam Wilson, but he was too far away for me to be sure. After several long moments of them standing there, side by side, they faced each other, having an earnest conversation. Several times they both looked in my direction, but I didn’t know if they were aware I was watching. Eventually, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning.

The sounds of food preparation in the kitchen area reached my ears in the bedroom, making me open my eyes. Sunlight shone through the window at the other end, and I sat up. Almost on cue a head appeared at the top of the ladder.

“Good morning,” said Buck. “I hope you slept well. I’m making some breakfast if you want to freshen up and join me. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

When I descended, he had everything ready, omelettes with a soft cheese filling, toasted bread, and coffee, along with more berries. It was basic fare, but filling and I felt satisfied. We cleaned up the dishes together, then Buck left to get changed. When he returned, he looked like he was dressed for a hike.

“Do you feel up for a walk?” he said. “I’ll show you my little private corner of the world and we’ll talk.”

After giving me a moment to take care of some personal needs, I found him waiting outside for me. We headed into the forest, walking without talking for some time until we came to a sunlit glade. The morning dew was still on the blades of grass, making them look like they had diamonds on them. Even the spider webs strung between some of the taller grasses and brambles glistened in the morning light. We walked some more until we came out to a spot overlooking a broad valley. A split log rested between two boulders, and he gestured to me to sit on it.

“All this land, as far as the eye can see is under an enchantment,” he said quietly. “There are trees here that are older than a thousand years. It’s all so precious but even it is in danger. When I leave this life, my magic will no longer protect it and it will be as much at risk of exploitation as any other place in the world.”

“What of the next fae king?” I asked. “Won’t his magic protect it?”

“He could be a fae aligned with another element or be one of those who clings to the old ways, harassing mortal folk and kidnapping their children to be his servants. It’s not something I have control over.”

There was something sad about how he said that, as if he didn’t have much hope. Without even thinking I reached out my hand to his and squeezed it. He smiled and kept our hands together.

“Sam came to see me in the night. I know you saw us together. It’s safer for them to visit then as it’s harder to be tracked here. The person who betrayed our presence was a half-fae. Not Maria.” He noticed my look of concern. “They kidnapped her, used dark magic to get the location out of her. My people repelled the attack on the safe house but a couple of the dark fae broke through the barrier. The one who followed us was one of them. Thank goodness Loki saw him and followed him to the beach. He slew him and identified him as one of Rumlow’s Horde. It’s almost certain Rumlow is the Dark Overlord. His appearance in the court where you were is no coincidence.”

“So, he was trying to take me on the street?” I asked. “How would he know about me, if I’ve been under your protection?”

A distressed look appeared on his face, and he turned to me.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t really known, not in its entirety,” he answered. “I’ve told differing versions of it even to my own people because I haven’t always acted in an honourable manner. But I promised you the truth. What I said about meeting your parents on their honeymoon camping trip was true. What I didn’t say was that somehow, as they hiked the back country they breached the boundary of my hidden haven. It was only when I confronted them that I realized your mother was a descendant of Lilith. My first instinct was to slay your father and take her for my own, which was well within my rights as fae king, but I realized your father also had fae in him, not as strongly evident as your mother but it was definitely there. In fact, his fae bloodline is an ancient one. That stayed my hand, but I did fall in love with both of them, so I led them back to the cottage and allowed them to set up their tent outside. I originally offered them the bedroom, but I think instinctively they knew they would be obligated to me in a way they weren’t comfortable with.”

“You wanted a threesome?” That wasn’t something I expected to ask about my parents. “I thought you were still in mourning.”

He shrugged. “So did I, but fae can be gender fluid and I’m not immune to the pleasures of the flesh, at the right moment. It’s how my youngest child was conceived when his mother’s needs required my attentions in a very basic way. Yes, I admit a threesome would have been my expectation if they accepted my offer, but I read their reluctance accurately, quickly realizing their love was only for each other as they took the promise of fidelity in their marriage seriously. I tempered my desires, but I realized your mother’s bloodline was so strong that any other fae might not be so understanding and would slay your father outright. The Dark Overlord would definitely have taken Fern for his own.”

“A desire to protect your parents grew in me during their stay as my guests. I dampened your mother’s gift, with her knowledge and permission, for she had always known she was sensitive to otherworldly beings. Your father’s profession was one that could be bolstered by fae interests, and he agreed to help manage our financial assets. Even though he was a free spirit in many ways, he understood our need to be independent financially, especially in these modern times. It was his suggestion to invest in ethical operations, making them stronger, while making us wealthier. Gaia Life was his idea, a non-profit organization that strove to undo the damage done to the environment by encouraging sustainable development and ecologically sound practices. He was well ahead of his time and his association with Gaia Life meant it was easier for me to keep your family safe.”

It explained a lot of things. My parents were quite liberal in their love of music, art and culture, while voting progressively, openly pro-choice, and displaying a lot of empathy for social issues. My mother was a teacher, and my father a financial consultant who rarely talked about his clients. We lived a privileged life, yet we always spent time working in soup kitchens, going out on highway cleanup events and other things that involved us physically helping someone or something. I was surprised that he never mentioned Gaia Life to me, especially since I became an environmental lawyer, and I would have met Buck at some point.

“Why did I never meet you until my father’s funeral?” I asked. “You said you saw me as I grew up. If you met my father regularly you would have known that I went into environmental law.”

“I did know,” he sighed. “It was a promise I made to your father to stay out of your life as much as possible.” He was quiet again, making me wonder if this was the part where I might not like him. “Can I touch your forehead and temples? I want to share some memories with you. It will help provide context to many things.”

It was a strange request but in the last 5 ½ weeks I had been exposed to many new things that I never knew existed before. I agreed and we faced each other. With the lightest of touches, he spread his fingertips from both hands over my forehead and temples, then gazed at me intently before closing his eyes. Instinctively I closed mine as well and felt like I was being drawn through a swirling mass of images and voices until we ended up at a lake, a lake I remembered very well, as we went there every summer when my brothers and I were kids. It was the best of times, full of laughter and good memories. Then my father’s face appeared, and I realized it was a memory of him, my mother, and Buck talking as us kids played in the water.

“You have two choices,” said Buck, his voice sounding ominous. “Do nothing and the Dark Overlord will sense her. He will come for her and take her for his own, adding her fae powers to his. Or you can give her to me, and I can take her to our stronghold. She will be raised as fae royalty, given training to counter the dark fae magic, and most of all, she will be safe.”

My mother spoke then, and her face appeared in Buck’s view. “No, I refuse to believe there isn’t a third option. I know you fae don’t love your children quite the same way we mortals do but you can’t expect us to give her up. Will you use magic to make her forget us? She deserves to choose the life she wants. Whether that is to live as mortal or as a fae should be up to her, no one else.”

“I agree with Fern,” added my father. “You told us on our honeymoon that any daughter we had would have strong fae powers and we accepted that. We’ve encouraged her to read all sorts of fantasy and mythology-based books and to be open to other beings living hidden in this world. When she’s older we can reveal the truth to her, and she can decide then. But I’m not about to let you take her when she’s only eleven years old. She’s a child.”

“She’s about to enter puberty and her powers will shine like a beacon after her first bleed,” answered Buck. “Although the light fae would still see her as a child and allow her to mature at her own pace, the dark fae will consider her an adult at that point. The Dark Overlord will take her for his bride and will not be gentle with her.” His view went to the children in the lake, focusing on Sage, then back at her parents. “Do not ever accuse me of not loving my children the way mortals do. Even though we don’t raise them as humans raise their own, they are still loved and cared for. I have a half-fae son who chose to give up his powers and live a mortal life in the human world. His safety and wellbeing are important to me. Sage’s are just as important.”

“Can’t you dampen her gift like you did mine?” asked my mother. “Can’t you keep her hidden that way?”

Buck sighed. “It will take a lot out of me and there will be times I might not be able to maintain it, opening her to danger during those times. If she lived in the stronghold the combined powers of the fae there would be able to protect her when I cannot. Even I have my limits.”

“Please,” begged my father. “If you take her, it will destroy us.”

There was silence then Buck looked at me again before looking at my parents. “I can give her a gift. If she accepts it, then she binds herself to me. It is a promise that at some point I will collect on, but I can wait until she is an adult, when it will become my duty to enlighten her to her powers. The bond created by the gift will make it easier for me to dampen her powers so that the Dark Overlord doesn’t sense her.”

My parents looked at each other, then at me, their faces showing the dilemma of the decision they had to make.

“Promise, you’ll allow her to live as a mortal until she’s of age by fae standards.” My father was emphatic.

“For as long as it’s possible,” agreed Buck. “If she turns 30 and doesn’t manifest her powers I will wait even longer. You have my word.”

They both nodded their heads then Buck made them say it out loud, essentially creating the contract between them. He reached around his neck and took a silver necklace off, a necklace with a pendant of a tree showing its bare branches and roots.

Automatically, my hand went to my neck, touching the necklace that in my memory had been given to me by my parents. I had worn it ever since, never taking it off. Although it was silver, it had never tarnished. Now, I knew why. Buck removed his fingertips from my face and sat on the bench, looking off into the distance. He said nothing, whether because he was ashamed or if whatever he said was irrelevant now didn’t seem to matter. Regardless, Buck waited.

“The orchid, that was a gift as well,” I said. “Was that also to bind me to you?”

“No, it was a talisman to provide extra protection after I met with you at your office. I went to further assess your powers and thought it prudent to provide you with as much protection as I could. It still hurt when I saw it destroyed. The Dark Overlord would see it as something binding us and that was a message to me that he wouldn’t respect it. He didn’t know about the necklace but the man who choked you was burned by its power. He would certainly have reported it.”

“Were you lying to my parents?”

“No! I respected them too much and I respect you. I omitted to tell you things, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. It was a false hope. But with my own powers stretched to the limit even then without any sort of binding agreement or contract there had to be something that could strengthen the protection I gave you. I didn’t intend to collect for a long time, as long as you were still protected. When you saw me at the funeral, I realized your powers were becoming stronger than the dampening spell and it was only a matter of time before the dark fae became aware of you. That proved to be very accurate.” He stood up. “There is more but I think you’ve heard enough for the day. I need to be alone for a while. Return to the cottage and stay close to it.”

His wings appeared and he took off, quickly fading into the distant sky. I remembered the day my parents seemed to have an intense discussion with a person while we were on holidays at the lake, but I still couldn’t picture who the third person was, realizing Buck had shielded himself from my memory. Perhaps it was him that made it seem the necklace given to me was from my parents, an acknowledgement that he wouldn’t reveal himself to me until he collected on the debt. He hadn’t revealed himself at the funeral either; that was my own magic doing it. I stood up to return to the cottage, seeing the path there was marked ahead of me with rocks. It was evident that Buck couldn’t waste any magic, making me wonder how much of the fae world needed his magic to protect it, yet he was using it on me, a mortal.

Maybe that is when I realized I was running away from what I really was. I had been hidden almost my entire life. Yes, it was for my own protection, but it also hid the real me. I was fae and even if I chose not to mate, losing powers that I didn’t know I had, nothing would change that. My mother’s bloodline extended to the first woman to say no to what was expected of her, Lilith. My father’s bloodline had fae in it as well, enough that Bucky didn’t kill him and take my mother as his prize. That left Bucky, the fae king who had offered me marriage, long life, eternal youth, power, and children, all of it on my terms.

Hope said he had feelings for me. Had he started to developed feelings for me when he gifted the necklace? Did he suppress those feelings about me as I grew older, became an adult, then a lawyer? By my reckoning it was 20 years between the time I received the necklace and my father’s death. I was 31, not a child anymore and any disgust he had possibly felt in himself about taking a child bride could no longer apply to me. Perhaps to a roughly 700-year-old fae I was still very young, yet he had been very much restrained in all of our meetings. It was always my choice; he made that very clear from the start.

When I arrived back at the cottage, I felt like staying busy, so I searched nearby for some greens and picked them along with some nuts that I found and more berries. Leaving them in the kitchen I returned outside and laid in a hammock, looking up at the sky. Letting my mind wander, I listened to the sound of the trees and the birds, letting them wash over me. It was calming and relaxing and soon I drowsed off. It was dusk when I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” said Buck. He raised a hand, showing a couple of fish, hanging from a hook. “I had much to think about. At least, I caught us some dinner.”

Carefully getting out of the hammock I stood up and looked at him, at the last golden rays of the sun, making his dark hair look lighter. The forest was definitely his element. In a suit and tie, he looked elegant but here he looked like he belonged.

“I thought about what you said and showed me,” I began. “How much of your powers are being used to protect me?”

“A considerable amount,” he admitted. “Once the Solstice has passed a ritual can strip your powers and you can live as a mortal without fear. My powers will no longer be needed.”

“What if I wish to embrace my fae heritage? What if I decide to agree to the marriage and the Solstice ritual? Will you teach me how to be fae? Will that take more of your powers away from you?”

“No, I have no more to give. It would just be redirected into your education into the fae world. It means you would be open to attack although we should be safe here and you would learn how to defend yourself. The stronghold would also be safe with the combined powers of all the fae protecting you.” He swallowed. “Have you decided?”

“I think I have.” I touched my necklace. “I was always meant to be your queen, wasn’t I? You were looking for the right descendant of Lilith and the fact my mother was already taken meant her daughter was the next best candidate.” He looked uncomfortable as there was a bit of weirdness about it, by mortal standards anyways. “I’m not accusing you of anything nefarious. You’ve admitted your faults and haven’t lied outright about anything. You’ve told me what I needed to hear. So, my answer to your question is another question. If I say yes, will you allow yourself to love me, openly and without reservation? I can’t accept anything less.”

A softness came over Buck’s face then, making him seem younger and less burdened with the worries of his position. He laid the fish on a bench, then rubbed his hands through a nearby plant, releasing the scent of lemon. Placing his hands on my cheeks, he gazed into my eyes.

“I already love you, Sage. Telling you I was incapable of it was the only actual lie I spoke, as I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t fully understand. If we marry, it is truly for life. I am 715 years of age, old for most fae, but a fae king can live for 1500 or more years. You are 31, barely out of childhood by fae standards but there are some who married younger than you. After the ritual your life span can extend to as long as that of a fae king, provided you truly wish it. I could say the words right now that I want to say when we marry but I want to wait.”

I started to protest as I was ready, but he placed his hands on mine, raising them to his lips.

“It is a life-changing commitment and asks you to sacrifice much. If you are truly ready, then a week will not change anything. In that week, I will tell you everything that I didn’t tell you earlier and show you my true self. You deserve that much before you make your final decision. If you still agree to marry me, I will advise my court of the decision and they can prepare for the Summer Solstice ceremony. You must understand that your family cannot be there, as it is not open to those not of the fae world, other than the bride. Plus, there is the matter that your mother no longer remembers me. There are ways around it, but it is something we need to talk about.”

He was right. There were still things that had to be said and done before I could make that final commitment. Leaving the real world to live in a mystical one was going to be a big adjustment, even if I would still have a presence in the human world. Reluctantly, I agreed, and he hugged me then began to release me. As I looked up at him, a change came over his face and he lowered his lips to mine, hesitating briefly before touching my lips with his. The kiss started out soft and sweet, then deepened, as our lips opened to each other. I could feel a heat stirring deep inside my body, an urgency unlike anything I had ever felt before. Pulling away, I breathed heavily, noticing Buck was also affected.

“We have to wait for the Solstice, right?”

He smiled in a way that sent a thrill through me. “No, we don’t. We can have all the sex we want until the day of the wedding.” His fingertips reached for my hair, and he ran his hand down my shoulder to my hand, pulling me closer. “The consummation requirements of the ceremony require us to make love when the sun is at its highest and the moon is at its lowest, in the sacred places where we’ll be. Until then, we can do what we damn well please.”

It was like a switch had been flipped as we threw ourselves at each other. Using magic, he sent the fish to the kitchen then he picked me up and carried me into the house, up the ladder into the bedroom, the candles coming on as we entered. As our clothes came off, I noticed his tattoo had changed, pointing it out to him. He laughed, a sound that was just as sexy now as the first time I heard him.

“My body is a living breathing canvas in constant flux,” he explained, as he pressed his lips into my neck, mouthing the pulse point under my ear. “The forest is always changing, and my tattoos reflect that. I am fae and my ties to the natural world involve my whole body.”

As he laid me down on the bed, removing the rest of our clothes effortlessly I couldn’t stop watching the way the markings on his body shifted and rippled as the level of our excitement rose. I forgot about all of that the moment we joined, yielding to the pleasure I was feeling. As my mind drifted towards the inevitable climax that was building it seemed I was on another plane of existence. When it happened, I could feel it all, the touch of the breeze in the night, the rustling of the leaves in that breeze, the scent of the flowers that bloom in the glow of the moon, ending with the sound of his wings unfurling and beating at the moment we both came, before enclosing us in their soft but protective embrace. It was profound and I never wanted to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.

“Amica mea,” whispered Buck. “At last, I found you.” His lips were on mine again as we both came down from the high of our union, then he gazed at me. “It means my love in Latin, the most sacred language of the fae.”

“Is it always like that?” I gazed right back at him, amazed that this beautiful man was mine.

“Always. When you transform, you will be part of the life of this planet and will feel it in your veins.” He interlaced his fingers with mine. “Together we will heal the scars that blight the land.”

That’s when I saw him. I saw a vision of the Dark Overlord in his human and fae form. He was wearing a suit, looking like he did that day in court when I failed to prove HYDRA Mining had polluted the waterways. As his gaze turned to see me, I stiffened in response. Then Brock Rumlow sneered at me.

“There you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been looking for you. It won’t take me long to find you, my treasure, my precious Sage. Tell Barnes I’ll find a way into his haven. When I do, I will slay him and take what is mine.”

He began to transform into his fae form, and I cried out as it was horrible, his red eyes and dark grey skin displaying the image of a demon, full of venom and fury. As I closed my eyes to rid myself of that image, Buck’s voice came through, calling my name, as he stroked my face and head. He didn’t need words to know what I had seen but wasn’t surprised when I told him who it was. There was a history there, that much was obvious. This vision was Rumlow’s shot across the bow, his revelation of his plans. It was a taunt and a promise, and I was very much afraid.

Part 5>>

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #fae bucky #fae #fae king #dark fae #brock rumlow au #bucky barnes short fiction #buckybarnesshortfic #short fiction

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navybrat817 · 6 months

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Can we revisit Fae!Bucky from What Happens in Vegas please???

Hi, nonnie! I'm glad you enjoyed What Happens in Vegas. I'd love to possibly revisit down the line. He still has the honeymoon to celebrate with you, after all.

Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat answers #fic ask #what happens in vegas #bucky barnes #fae!bucky barnes #the vegas lights au #sweet nonnie #sending love ❤️#asks are always appreciated

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cryptidcasanova · 2 years

Text

Strange Magic

Fae!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The cottage has been in your family for many years, but your return has caught the interest of more than just the wildlife.

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Dubious Nature, Dark Themes, Fae Trickery, Soft!Dark!Fae!Bucky

Strange things started happening when you inherited the little cottage your family owned. It was originally your grandfather’s, and your parents had used it as a summer home when you were growing up.

But the cottage was always on the back burner. Up until recently, you were completely happy with your little suburban life. You liked the noise and the quick pace, and for a long time, you let the cottage fall to the wayside.

When you finally took the time to visit, tending to the cottage was only supposed to be a part-time job, but it surprised you. You had quickly fallen in love with its simplicity. It reminded you of the times you had been brought there when you were little.

The strange things first started when a stranded fawn happened upon the outskirts of the property. It was just a babe, helpless to the elements, and the mother was nowhere to be found. Instead of turning a blind eye you fed and nurtured it and sheltered it for the night. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t just leave it out there all alone.

By the time the sun rose the next morning the fawn was gone. You didn’t expect it to stay, but it disappeared without a trace. As you were cleaning up the nest of blankets and rags you put together you found a stone. It was small and opaque and perfectly smooth, and you marveled at it as you crouched down into the dirt.

The fawn wouldn’t have brought this to you. Your careful fingers plucked the stone from the nest, and you turned it over in your hand.

It was moonstone.

It was a stone of protection. A stone for lovers.

But how did you know that? You paused with a careful breath, mechanically returning it to the spot you found it. It wasn’t natural. Cautious eyes scanned the line of the cottage out to where the property backed up to the trees. You weren’t as alone as you thought.

The stone was a gift.

It was one you could not accept. One that you would not accept.

You weren’t typically superstitious in the city, but with this place, you held it with high regard. Call it your father’s intuition or your mother’s careful nature guiding you, but you were not going to actively seek out any trouble in these woods.

Without sparing another glance at the stone or the woods you hurried inside. A nagging feeling in the back of your mind told you that there was work to be done.

The early rays of the afternoon sun eventually bled into a long, orange sunset against the west side of the cottage. The delicate curtains were drawn tight, and the house was locked up.

You didn’t stoke the hearth that night.

The only telltale sign of life from the cottage was that you left a small basket on the edge of your porch covered in a pleated red cloth. You had used up the last of your apples to bake something sweet. The buttered pie was left on your porch to extend an olive branch. All you wanted was peace and never meant to disturb the unseen creatures of the woods.

Sleep was hard to come by. Every rustle in the trees and flap of wings made you jump, and you eventually took to burrowing in a number of heavy quilts to block out the noise.

You felt like you were going to be sick, that the creatures outside would tear the doors off the hinges and drag you into the night. Your parents used to talk about the unseen forces that lived in the forest, but this was your first encounter with them. You didn’t have any idea of what to expect and were only armed with the knowledge that the forest folk had a sweet tooth.

The night dragged on and try as you might, your thoughts kept drifting back to the moonstone. You had never before grabbed the attention of the unseen, and you so desperately wanted to be swallowed up by the dirt.

You just wanted them to take the pie. You wanted them to take it and leave you in peace.

The morning met you with a warm swell, even without the heat of the fire. With sleepy eyes, you knew it was time to face the music.

The porch was bathed in a yellow glow as you unlocked the door and stepped into the sun, and the basket was exactly where you left it. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the pie was gone.

With a lofty exhale you hurried down to the stack of blankets you had left the day before. Tossing aside your fears you rounded the side of the cottage. The moonstone was also gone.

You couldn’t contain your sigh of relief. It was a good sign.

The following days passed without fuss, and you slowly fell back into your routine with a pollyanna heart. You were at peace with the woods once more.

You read books and baked bread and tried your hand at chopping wood. You sang songs from your youth and wrote and were content. If only your parents could see you now. They would be so proud of how brave you were, of how smart you were. That was why you moved out here, after all.

In a way, it was one last attempt to get close to them.

But no amount of city living could have prepared you for the overwhelming energy of the woods. Was it always this way? You couldn’t remember. You thought that it would be cold and lifeless and quiet, but it was the opposite. Everything was alive and watching. The birds sang and plants grew quickly, and everything was rich with life.

You would have thought it disturbing if not for the overflow of comfort that tended to wash over you when you felt all alone. Maybe it was your dad looking after you, even now. Maybe your mother was helping you with the gardening and the foraging. It was a soft reminder of them.

One afternoon when the wind was particularly strong the cries of baby birds could be heard throughout the forest. They must have fallen from their nest. You had been weaving together stretches of cloth in an attempt to repurpose the old material but were pulled from your work when the crying didn’t stop.

Your heart lurched in your chest. You were going to help them.

The nest had been blown from a high branch in one of the pine trees and had been overturned at the bottom of the trunk. You turned over the nest with caution, only to find three baby robins cooing and crying at the disturbance.

You frowned. The mother was nowhere to be found. The baby birds must have been scared half to death.

You were careful not to disrupt the nest and scooped the hatchlings up in your work apron as well as the nest, setting them down altogether on a sturdier branch. It was a branch at eye level, careful to keep the babes from the danger of the forest floor. You left your apron there for extra protection and warmth, and you came back not long after with berries for the hatchlings.

It was the least you could do. One of the biggest differences in city living was just how quickly you got the gratification of getting a job done. Making appointments over the phone, sending important emails, and having dinner delivered to your door. It was so fast in some ways.

At the cottage, everything took extra effort, and for a small moment, you felt that similar rush. It was gratifying.

It was all in a day's work to help, and you were no stranger to simple comforts. Your parents had raised you here, just like this. It was quaint. It was just as rewarding.

Just the same as before, you checked up on the hatchlings the next morning before tending to the rest of the cottage.

The apron was still there, lodged into the tree branch with the nest but upon closer inspection, the babes were gone. There were no birds nor berries or feathers, and instead, the stem of a flower was carefully tucked into the nest. It was no ordinary flower, no. You were familiar with the kind. Dicentra.

Bleeding hearts.

The pink strand of flowers was a stark contrast to its surroundings. You knew the plant well enough to know that they grew only on the far side of the forest. It was farther than you had traveled in a long time.

A shiver spiraled down to your stomach and your eyes scanned the tree line once more. This time you didn’t even dare to touch the gift left for you.

Again, you turned in early for the night. This time you left half a loaf of bread with a berry jam and a jar of honey in the basket.

It all felt like a delicate dance.

The night was cold, much colder than the last time you decided to let the fire rest. The quilts helped to keep you warm, but your body was overcome with shivers, nonetheless. This time it came in the form of listening to howls outside the front door.

Something was out there. You felt it. You knew it deep in your bones.

You could almost hear something beyond the howling, something softer. It was the quiet hum of wind chimes, but each time you thought you heard it the sound faded into the night. And then you remembered; you didn’t have wind chimes.

Sleep claimed you faster this time, almost suddenly. You couldn’t have prepared for it, and your dreams were extravagant.

The dream had been filled with sweet songs and comfort, and then it dissolved into the darkness of the woods.

And then you were barefoot, stepping away from the cottage onto a bloody patch of dirt and grass. Your dream led you down to the spot where you first tended to the fawn, patches of blood and fur marring the nest of blankets you had made. Your legs were propelling you away before you could get another good look, and when you peered ahead a different trail led you to bloodied feathers and the broken remnants of the bird’s nest.

It was a disaster. It was as if a fox had gotten into the henhouse.

Tossing and turning, you were suddenly hot. The chill in your veins was replaced with a hot ache, feeling it in your belly and down to your toes, until you entirely forgot about the carnage you walked through.

Your nerve endings were on fire. You knew you were dreaming. You needed to wake up.

The blood had faded away into warm daylight, but there was no solace. You weren’t alone. There was a snap of a twig on your left.

You needed to wake up. Now.

A pair of dark eyes, almost glowing against the trees had found you. You turned, running blindly into the brush, but it was only getting closer. You could hear whatever was behind you catching up. You could feel its hot breath on the back of your neck. You tried to scream.

Wake. Up.

With a jolt you startled up, taking a moment to realize you were still in your bed. The cottage was locked up tight. You were safe.

A broken cry had gotten stuck in your throat as you held a hand to your chest. You were overwhelmed and terrified.

It was still early, well before sunrise, but there was no way you were going back to bed. Not after that.

Never, and you swore never had you felt such dread. And you had never once felt that way in the cottage. What once housed feelings of comfort and peace were twisted into such horrific dread.

A terrible realization dawned on you. You were all alone in the middle of nowhere.

You thrashed the blankets off your body, suddenly too heavy against your skin. You felt trapped. The weight of it all was too much, even if the rest of the cottage had only gotten colder throughout the night.

Perhaps you could build a fire. Maybe you would take a hot bath to distract yourself. Damn the fear of the outside; you were convinced your dreams were the biggest threat to your safety.

Your body was flushed, rattled from the aftershocks of the nightmare. With a pant you let your body collapse against the pillows, letting your arm cradle behind it for extra support before you froze.

But there was something there, under your pillow. Sitting up in alarm you tossed your pillow to the ground.

No.

There, carefully placed under your pillow, were the moonstone and the bleeding hearts.

No.

“You are going to freeze, doll.”

Your eyes snapped towards the direction of the voice. There, leaning against the fireplace a distinct figure hugged the shadows. Tall and imposing, the shadow dwarfed the room. Strong shoulders and dark hair drew your attention first. The voice was lustrous and masculine, making you blink twice before listening to the gravity of his words.

You could feel the temperature of the room drop. The figure wasn’t lying. It was much colder now, and a puff of cold air was pulled from you when you exhaled. You reached for a blanket almost mechanically.

When you didn’t respond you watched as the figure crossed one leg over the other in the dark. Your eyes had adapted as best they could, but with the curtains closed and the fire snuffed out your vision was still limited.

“Let me help.” The figure offered with a hum.

As if by magic the fire roared to life at his words. The room was illuminated in warmth and light, and you held a hand up as your eyes squinted shut.

This didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t be happening.

Your body was tense, and once your eyes adjusted to the light you could get a good look at the figure, at the man. His skin was pale against a dark head of hair and thick eyebrows looked curiously at you behind bright, blinding eyes. They were blue as the spring water. You couldn’t deny that there was a sharp edge to them. All of his features were striking, from the curve of his lips and the stubble along his jaw to his taught arms and thick legs.

His clothes were dark, maybe blue or black, but you couldn’t be sure. He was a shadow in the night.

A palpable concern ran through you.

Against the firelight, you couldn’t deny a glowing tint in his eyes. It was too similar to the eyes in your dreams.

He was no man at all.

Your parents could have never warned you about this.

“Did you not like my gifts?” You dared to ask, your heart beating heavily in your chest.

A smirk curled at his lips. The man pushed off the wall, towering over you.

“Oh, I loved them.” He emphasized with a hum. This time he stepped forward, and you watched with careful eyes. Your confusion must have been clear as day. His tone was jovial, almost teasing. “But I thought you would have liked mine a little more. I will have to try harder.”

You were so overwhelmed that you missed his last sentence altogether.

“I was taught to not accept anything from the forest.” You stuttered out with an air of innocence. And obviously, ignorance.

You couldn’t understand him, how he liked your gifts but wouldn’t leave you alone. Your parents’ worries had swarmed in your mind. All of your careful preparation was in vain.

The man looked at you, confident that you knew that he knew exactly what you were thinking. Dark hair fell in his face, and he tilted his head.

“I wonder why that would be?” He speculated with a formidable grin. Those blue eyes pulled you back, filled with mirth and mystery. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Goosebumps pricked at your arms and for a moment you were at a loss for words.

You couldn’t remember.

There must have been a reason why you didn’t take his gifts. Why would your parents tell you not to accept anything from the forest? Your head felt heavy.

“I -” You paused, confusion settling into your features. “I don’t know.”

At your admission, the man’s grin only widened. His hand moved up and under his chin. His cunning voice swelled around you, and he stalked forward with an animalistic prowl.

“But you did like my gifts?”

The softness of his question made it sound like it wasn’t a question at all. You hummed out a breath before looking up at him.

“I did.”

You figured there would be no trouble in playing along.

His lips curled up into a smirk, showing off white teeth against the light of the fire. His eyes were teasing again, clever, and full of mischief.

“Then what do you say?” He asked, almost condescendingly. “You’re sweet. You’re kind. You must have been taught your manners.” He urged the words out of you, his startling eyes locked on yours.

The man was hauntingly beautiful.

You couldn’t look away if you wanted to. You...you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“Thank you for the gifts.”

The whisper was so faint that it faded off before you realized it was you that spoke. Your head was foggy, slowly realizing the trap that you were falling into. It was almost as if you could hear him when he didn’t even speak.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

He had stolen away at your senses with a clever wink.

All of a sudden, your parents’ warnings were swimming through your mind.

“It is dangerous in these woods. Don’t accept anything from the forest. The forest folk will twist your intentions. They are clever and powerful.” “They can trap you in the forest and make you lose yourself.”

“Don’t give them your name. Don’t accept their trinkets, and don’t thank them for their kindness.”

What was happening to you? Your hands slumped forward against your thighs, and you could hardly hold your head up. A wave of nausea made you steel yourself to the bed frame.

“Who - who are you?” Your tongue was heavy against your teeth, and your breathing was labored. Your body was shutting down against your will.

Yours. I am yours.

His words pulsated against your temples. He was shushing you now, gently to calm you, taking a step closer to the bed.

“Doll, you are taking care of everything out here. This cottage is a treasure, but who is taking care of you?”

A shiver ran down your back. Your mind was flooded with images of the moonstone and the flowers, and how you helped the fawn and the hatchings. Then it shifted back to the tremors in your dreams.

You watched helplessly as the man’s blue eyes completely darkened, a golden ring shining around his irises. It was him all along. He was watching you the whole time.

You couldn’t find your voice, a startling noise catching in your throat. You couldn’t speak. Trying to back up against the wall your limbs were heavy.

You couldn’t move.

Physically immobilized, it was as if he had all control. How was this possible?

He was closer now and you could smell the grass and the salt and the rain against his skin. He crouched down in front of you, eye level with you, sitting on the bed. His cool breath fanned against your face and with a gentle hand, he brushed a thumb against your bottom lip.

Soft lips curled into a sinister grin, showing off a set of sharp, white teeth. With as much strength as you could muster you looked back up into his eyes. The blue in his eyes was completely gone, swallowed by dark, glowing pupils.

It was stunning and terrifying all in the same breath. It wasn’t human.

Closer still he leaned in, moving his thumb down to your jaw. The ghost of his lips was against your own before he claimed his prize and your rapture.

His kiss was poisonous. It was earthy and powerful and it shifted into something saccharinely sweet. You were helpless to it, melting against him as his tongue lapped at your own.

A breathless groan passed from his lips and settled against your skin. He was all-encompassing.

Against your better judgment, your arms were pulled up from your thighs. Like a puppeteer was commanding the strings, one hand settled against his chest and the other was curled around his shoulder for support.

It was what he wanted.

With newfound strength, you held on to him with all of your might as he kissed you again. This one was exploratory, lingering from the corner of your lips to the apple of your cheeks and down your jaw. Your body was buzzing like a lightning strike.

It was him. All of the heat and power were emanating from him.

A dark fog swirled in your mind, fully possessed by the man that held you close. If you could only look back and see yourself, you would have seen how your eyes had gotten dark, mimicking his own. His free arm rested along your lower back, sharp nails digging against your skin. There was no escape.

You could hardly think as the soft rumble of his voice settled over you.

“Your heart is the softest place on earth. Let me take care of it.”

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