#queenie does halloweenie

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompts: wintershock for #13 To a fortune teller- 'I'm about to ask you out on a date, so I really hope the next card you turn over is 'The Lovers.'’ please please please? you are my favorite.

Lady love you are my favorite too! Here’s some wintershock meets queenie and bloom’s traveling emporium

13. To a fortune teller- 'I’m about to ask you out on a date, so I really hope the next card you turn over is 'The Lovers.’ 

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

He was on his way out of the New Montreal neighborhood when Hydra caught his tail. He ducked through the beaded curtain of a little airstream trailer parked along the sidewalk. There was a chalkboard sign outside advertising “Good Fortunes” in curling purple letters and a woman—a girl, no…a woman—inside wearing a soft purple sweater, thick glasses, and jeans ripped at the knees. He looked her over, searching for the threat, and stopped on her black socks decorated with little shooting stars.

“You can sit down,” she said, standing over a hot plate where a kettle was working up steam. “I’m making myself tea. Do you want a leaf reading?”

“No,” he said, and his tone was too gruff. He cleared his throat as she raised an eyebrow at her little floral teapot. “Nah, don’t like tea.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s not like it all tastes the same but, sure, okay.”

Bucky swallowed and his eyes scanned the trailer. There was a knife out on the tiny kitchenette counter, fairly dull looking, and it was sitting next to a loaf of bread that looked moist and drizzled with sugar and made his mouth water just looking at it.

“Would you like a slice?” she asked. “It’s a nutty spice loaf. I found it at the market up a ways.”

He swallowed. “No, thank you,” he said, managing to sound normal this time.

“Just here for a standard card reading then?” she asked.

The space was too tight, but she had a window open over the little sink and he could get out the roof hatch in a pinch. He shifted in place, eyeing out the bead curtain and watched as two Hydra agents walked out of the coffee shop three doors down. The fortune teller was pouring herself a mug of tea by the hot plate.

“Umm…how much is it?” he asked.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and then back to her tea, flipping the switch off and pulling a tea bag out of the little pot to dry on a small plate.

“Eight dollars,” she said, voice a little too high.

He stared at her as she shuffled past him to a small table where a deck of cards—gold ouroborus twisting on a black background—waited next to a collection of water rings all layered on top of one another on the surface of the wood. It was too low of a fee he realized. She thought he couldn’t afford whatever she usually charged. But she was still letting him stay?

He sat down at the table across from her, turning the chair to face out so he could keep watch.

“I’m going to shuffle, and then I’ll cut,” she said as he looked around.

He studied the odd assortment of books on palmistry and politics in history and romance novels that lined a single shelf. The little spiny plants that grew out of small pots over her kitchen area. The glittering curtains that hung over the far end of room, hiding the bed from view.

“Now, you pick.” Bucky looked back at the table as the cards snapped against the surface and bright turquoise nails split the deck into three piles.

He picked the center pile and her lips twitched and then settled. She put the deck back in order and began turning cards out onto the surface.

Bucky didn’t really know anything about fortune telling but he could tell by the pictures that it wasn’t much of good news.

_

Darcy let the man sit and absorb the images from his reading, going back to her teapot to refill her mug. She blinked away tears that had started gathering somewhere around The Devil…only three cards in, and it felt like hours ago. This poor dude.

“Where’d you learn to do all this?”

She spun in step and leaned back against her counter. He had his fingertip on the edge of the last card, The Fool, a new beginning, the most optimistic part of the whole reading.

“The internet,” she said, smiling as his eyes widened for a moment. She felt something flip inside her chest as he smiled back. “It’s kind of lame, I know. But I’d just dropped out of college and I needed something to learn and now…”

“You undercharge yourself for strangers,” he said.

The laugh burst out of her. She tucked it away behind her hand and watched as another smile snuck its way across his face.

“Well given how it turned out, I kind of feel like I ripped you off,” she said, wincing at her loose mouth as he looked back down to the cards on the tables.

“Nothin’ there I didn’t already know,” he said softly.

“You need a ride out of town?” The words came unbidden and for a moment they stared at each other blankly. She chewed at the corner of her lip and continued, “I’m headed out to Saratoga Springs for an arts festival tomorrow. If you stay in the bed as I go through border control you should be okay.”

“Doll, you shouldn’t go around offering rides to strangers,” he said, and his whisper was warm.

“I don’t normally,” she said.

His brow was furrowed and anxious and Darcy realized that he’d started to stretch out in the chair, the tension in his shoulders unspiraling the longer he stayed. His spine was straight now, balls of his feet braced against the floor in preparation to run. She pushed herself up to perch on the edge of her sink, giving him a few more inches of breathing room, and watched as he eased a fraction in the chair.

“It’s up to you,” she said, shrugging. “But I’m heading out before it gets dark.”

_

Saratoga was good to Darcy. She was just a few booths away from a local winery and the customers seemed to trickle right down into her trailer, giggling and laying twenties down cheerfully for any kind of reading she felt like doing. She even got to test out her phrenology skills when a floppy haired stoner dude let her give him a head massage.

The festival was winding down and she was cleaning up teacups and little plates of sweet bread when the beads over her doorway jangled behind her back.

“Sorry, I’m just clos- Oh, hey. James.”

He was standing just outside the trailer, gloved hand pushing the curtain aside but not moving into her space.

“Darcy,” he said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

“Really well. You?” He shrugged and she hesitated for a moment before rushing ahead with her question. “You wanna be my driving buddy on the way to Rochester?”

_

James—Bucky, he’d said it eventually and Darcy thought she might know now why he was running but she didn’t mind—rode with her through Ohio and Kentucky and along the length of Tennessee before they every really mentioned the idea of him tagging along…permanently.

“What am I gonna do?”

“You’re my muscle,” Darcy said shrugging. “You’re already driving for me.”

“You’re a bad driver, doll.”

“I am,” she agreed. “Which is why it’s so nice to have someone doing that for me.”

There was a long stretch of quiet—broken by the sound of Darcy crunching on rye chips. She stretched her leg down the length of the bench seat and toed gently at his thigh.

“S’not safe for you,” he said and she had to stop chewing to hear the words.

“You’d leave if you needed to,” she said and his head twitched in her direction. “I’ve always known that, okay? But just admit that you’re sticking around till you can’t anymore.”

His hands squeezed around the steering wheel and then he glanced at her, that small smile growing on his face that she loved drawing out.

“Guess I better learn a thing or two.”

_

“Okay so just start small. Three cards,” she said as Bucky restacked the deck in his hands. He’d taken off the glove somewhere between New Orleans and San Antonio and the metal fingers whistled as they ran along the smooth edges of the cards.

“Past,” Darcy said as he turned over the first card.

“Three of coins,” he said. “This is about…trade or skills?”

“Yeah, in my case it’s about school probably,” Darcy said shrugging. “Something I’ve left behind. Now, present.”

“Two of wands. S’like an opportunity?”

“And travel,” she said and they grinned at one another. “You’ve been paying attention.”

He shrugged a little and she could have sworn she saw a blush peeking up over the edges of the beard he’d been growing out. “Future next?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Seeing his thumb flip up the corner of the card she blurted out, “I’m about to ask you out on a date so I really hope the next card you turn over is ‘The Lovers’”

Bucky’s thumb froze, slipped between the face of the card and the table as his blue eyes grew wide, staring back at hers. He relaxed after a moment and smiled. “Don’t need to be a fortune teller to tell you my answer to that, doll. What’d you have in mind?”

“Turn the card over first,” she said.

He flipped and never looked down but she caught sight of the two figures entwined together in the image before his fingers wove through hers on the table top.

“You wanna go to Phoenix together?” she asked, fighting off her grin.

He laughed, sinking back into his chair. Their arms stretched across the table top, knees bumping together underneath.

[ragwitch]

Can you do #7 shieldshock :D I don't have a ratings preference

TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF FOR YOU MY FRIEND.

7. ‘I’m on a long term mission to find the best possible pumpkin spice latte. Wanna hop along?’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Steve

Rating: G

“Hey, Darce.”

Darcy paused in chewing on her banana, taking a moment to collect herself, before continuing. Because the last time Steve had passed her in the communal kitchen and said ‘hey’ she had almost choked on her oatmeal in front of Tony and the Black Widow. Which had been embarrassing.

“Hey, Steve,” she answered, tossing away the peel. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good…it’s good,” he said.

Darcy froze at the trashcan before turning slowly back to face him. He was leaning against the long island, finger tracing patterns in the marble countertop.

“That’s good,” she said, nodding and she watched his nose scrunch.

“Yeah…so…” He looked up, blinked twice, lips twisting on his face before looking back down at the countertop. “So I’ve heard a lot about pumpkin spice lattes.”

Huh. “They’re…a pretty big deal this time of year, I guess, yeah,” Darcy said, walking over to lean against the opposite side of the counter.

“There’s a lot of…hyperbole nowadays,” Steve said, maybe more to himself.

“Hyperbole…and pumpkin spice lattes are literally what the world relies on for basic sanity and everyday joy now,” Darcy said.

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her for a moment and Darcy held her stony expression until his smile cracked through.

“Well everyone’s giving me a lot of shit about them and not having found ‘my brand’ so…I’m on a long term mission to find the best pumpkin spice latte. You wanna hop along? Nat said you might have ‘millenial insight.’”

“Rude,” Darcy said immediately and then felt terrible because Steve looked so genuinely distressed at the accusation. “No, I mean…don’t tell her I said that. It’s fine.” She waved her hand quickly in the air as if to erase the words.

And the smell of matchmaking on the wind.

But Steve was still wincing when she finally convinced her hand to chill out and settle down.

So she said, “Yeah. I know all about the mythical PSL. Let’s start our quest.”

_

“I can’t believe you’re making us start at Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“I can’t believe this is $3.50, it’s so small.”

“Oh, Steve.”

_

“Wow! That’s a lot of nutmeg. That’s more nutmeg than I thought would fit into a coffee drink.”

“Are these supposed to taste like pumpkin? Shouldn’t they just be called Spice Lattes.”

“Shhhh…if the marketing teams making billions on the PSL hear you they might take a hit out on us.”

“I think I could keep us safe.”

“…fair.”

_

“Darce, this is an ice cream shop.”

“Yeah but I read online that they put a pumpkin spice latte over pumpkin pie ice cream.”

“Lead the way.”

_

“Okay so…this one. This one tastes like-”

“Squash.”

“Yeah. They leaned in to the pumpkin side.”

_

“You want to…to hang out in here a bit?”

“There are board games, of course I want to hang out a bit. You competitive, Steve?”

“I’m not gonna let you win just cause you’re pretty if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s…I…okay. Good. I won’t let you win just cause of your dreamy baby blues either then.”

_

“Starbucks. Isn’t this a chain?”

“I really appreciate the anti-corporate monopoly side of Captain America, but I did a lot of research and even the coffee snobs say this is the best combination of spice and pumpkin flavor.”

“…S’probably artificial.”

“You’re an adorable shit-stirrer.”

…

“This…this is really good.”

“Especially considering I was getting kind of tired of these.”

“I guess…that’s that.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

_

Darcy was bent over her desk, head turning between Jane’s chicken scrawl that was practically spiraling around the pages of her notebook, and the computer monitor.

“Darcy,” Jane said from underneath a ticking contraption.

“M’almost done,” Darcy answered.

“Take a break.” Darcy froze at the suggestion. Jane never suggested breaks. Then she added, “You’ve got a visitor.”

Darcy spun her chair around to watch Steve stepping carefully over the the loose pipes and tools that spread out around Jane like an iron and steel mandala.

“Steve,” she said. Blushing, because yes, Steve, obviously and because he was carrying two tall paper cups with coffee lids. “Miss me? Or the PSL?”

“You,” he said, cheeks pinking as he sat down on a little stool at her side and passed her the cup.

She was going to tell him that she missed him too, she just needed a sip of caffeinated courage first. The coffee zipped across her tongue, bright ginger and rich, bitter chocolate.

“Ohhh,” she said, looking down at the lid as if that might reveal the secret. “This is not pumpkin.”

“Dark chocolate gingerbread,” Steve said, a smile creeping across his lips.

“Mmmm.” Darcy took another sip and let her eyes fall shut happily.

“Save me a sip,” Jane said from under the metal rig.

“We’ll see,” Darcy said. This was definitely more her coffee speed.

“Sooo…The Uncommons just started the latte playoffs. They’ve made up a bunch of flavors and you buy the ones you like to narrow it down to a winner. There’s a bracket and everything,” Steve said.

“Awww, board game place? I loved board game place,” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. And his feet scuffed against the tile and his shoulders drew into his ears.

“We should probably try them all,” Darcy said. She tucked her free hand under her thigh and crossed her fingers, hoping this was where he was leading the conversation.

He looked up at her, grinning, cheeks dimpling. “We are kind of experts,” he said.

“Yeah, and I still need to kick your ass at Risk.”

He shook his head and smiled fondly at her. “That’s funny but you’re competing against real world experience.”

“Shut up, Captain Smartypants. I can take you.”

[ragwitch]

For your Halloween Prompt! I choose WinterShock, pretty please, and the prompt I would like is #1. If it's already gone, I choose #22 as 2nd choice, or #15 as third choice. (I hope I remembered those right...)

Here’s number 1! This ended up being inspired by The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater but should hold together for anyone who isn’t familiar with those books. Hope you enjoy! 

(Side note: I know there’s a game called Avengers Academy but in this case it’s just a fancy pants private boys school. No super heroing to do with it.)

1. “You know, like a murder of crows, a gaggle of geese, a coven of witches!”

“That’s …not really how it works. But, sure.”

Rating: G

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

“You know, like a murder of crows, a gaggle of geese, a coven of witches!” Bucky Barnes was looking earnestly up at her from the booth and Sam and Steve were sniggering across from him. Darcy looked around the soda shop, she had three more tables to take care of on this round and she just couldn’t get these Avengers Academy boys to give her break.

“That’s… not really how it works. But, sure,” Darcy said, shrugging. “What do you want to eat?”

“Four orders of cheese fries, six double cheese burgers, three double chocolate malts,” Sam recited.

Darcy blinked and clicked at her pen repeatedly. “Okay…and for you?” she asked Steve.

He blushed profusely, red flooding his pale skin and Sam answered for him, “That was for all of us.”

“Great,” Darcy said, without any enthusiasm and turned to move on.

“Aren’t you gonna write that down?” Sam asked.

“Do you read palms?” Bucky asked stretching out his hand to wave it in her face.

“No,” Darcy answered, figuring that covered the bases, and walked away.

It was bad enough around town when it was just locals. But when the Avengers Academy students arrived back on campus and flooded the streets with their high end cars and the shops with their limitless credit cards, Darcy had a hard time stomaching coming into work at the old soda shop turned kitschy diner. And this particular group of Avengers boys had been a regular thorn in her side at the diner since they’d first walked in last fall. Sam Wilson’s eyes were going to end up loose in his head for how often he rolled them, Steve Rogers was somehow worse for being both a local and an Avengers boy, and Bucky Barnes…

Bucky Barnes was persistent. Charming. Chatty. And evidently fascinated by Darcy and her family full of witches.

She avoided their table beyond delivering the tray of food, ignoring Bucky’s parted lips, poised for speaking. She even skipped the mandatory, ‘How is everything?’ swing by.

The tip was hefty all the same and Darcy wrinkled her nose irritably in thanks.

_

Maria appeared in Darcy’s doorway, willowy form soft against the frame, face stony and suspicious.

“There are boys waiting for you downstairs,” she said slowly, with that careful enunciation that always meant she was near to listing your errors and follies out very publicly.

“I didn’t invite them,” Darcy said, squeezing past Maria. She thundered down the steps as the older woman watched from the upstairs hall.

Darcy recognized the navy and black uniform pants before she saw their faces and nearly turned tail on the stairs then. Steve Rogers, svelte and sickly, was leaning slightly away from the venus fly trap on the side table by the entrance. Sam Wilson leaned back against the door itself as if to bar anyone else from entering the house, his uniform half abandoned, gray shirtsleeves rolled up. Bucky Barnes was the bravest, advancing past the unwelcoming welcome rug that was more shades of dirt than colors of wool, and peering into the living room cum study cum entertaining room where Darcy’s mother and aunts and cousins and extended female family hosted their paying customers.

“What are you doing here?” Darcy asked, three steps up from the entry hall so she could hold some height over the collection of boys.

Steve shrunk back closer to Sam who folded his arms over his chest and smirked up at Darcy. Bucky turned and walked up to the stairs without any reserve.

“I realized my mistake at the diner,” he said, hands in his pockets. “A coven is not a numerical measurement but a chosen community. I’m sorry for the insensitive error.”

Darcy’s frowned deepened even as Bucky offered her up a sheepish smile, perfectly tailored for winning over it’s recipient.  “Fine,” Darcy said, shrugging and turning to leave again.

“It’s just,” Bucky carried on, and out of the corner of her eye Darcy could see his hand, stretched out for her perusal. “I’m having these terrible dreams. And I thought someone here might be able to help me.”

She stopped, turned back to him, lips pursing, and studied him for a long minute.

It took her a second to move past the carefully trimmed poof of hair, half windswept and half architecturally perfect, the chiseled jaw line, the softly gleaming silk tie around his throat. His eyes were tired, dark circles pooling under their lively blue gray. His lips were snagged and bitten with worry and he hadn’t quite managed to shave away all of the spotty, youthful beard that was working it’s way in on his face. Over his shoulder, Steve and Sam were both stepping closer, Steve’s face openly worried and Sam’s stubbornly guarded.

Darcy huffed, making sure to sound put upon, and stepped down once to look at the offered palm. There at the center Bucky Barnes’s life line was snapped clean in half, a sudden and jarring break in the otherwise predictable pattern of wealth and privilege she might have expected to see.

“Darcy?”

Darcy looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel. There was a dangerous combination of fragrances in the air which meant that the older woman had been brewing a tea although whether it was medicinal, psychedelic, or only herbal, only a test would tell.

“Bucky, this is my mother, Peggy Carter,” Darcy said. She met her mother’s gaze, a queasy nervous feeling spreading through her stomach that she patently refused to acknowledge. “He needs to speak with you.”

Peggy’s eyes widened slightly, taking in the Avenger’s uniforms and the anxious expressions on all four teenager’s faces.

“Well, alright then,” Peggy said, red lips pursing. “Who would like tea?”

Darcy shook her head subtly, warningly at the others, and followed them into the kitchen.

[ragwitch]

Hey, can I get #4, wintershock? Thank you! :)

yes yes yes, teh cuteness!!

4. 'I thought you liked horror movies.' 'I liked the idea of holding your hand during horror movies. I hate horror movies.’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky

Rating: T

Bucky cringed and stared at the blinking clock of the tv doohickey and tried to ignore the sounds of a chainsaw cutting through bone and flesh. It was…uncomfortably accurate to his knowledge. At his side Darcy whimpered softly and Bucky looked down to find her staring fixedly at the hem of his t-shirt sleeve, face wincing and fingers wrapping tightly around his own.

“You don’t like this one?” he asked, hoping the answer was ‘yes.’

“What?” Darcy looked up at him, eyes wide and let go of his hand. “No! It’s…” she glanced at the screen, paled, and looked back to him quickly. “It’s a classic.”

Bucky squinted at her for a long moment, watching a blush spread over her cheeks, before she forced herself to look back at the screen, flinching at a spray of blood.

“Well I hate it,” he said.

Darcy’s hair whipped over his shoulder and she turned to look up at him. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said shrugging. “I’ve hated all of them.”

“You have?” she asked, expression falling.

“I just thought you liked horror movies,” he said. “And I don’t mind ignoring them with you next to me.”

Darcy’s lips fell open and she gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, blinking. “I liked the idea of holding your hand during horror movies,” she said finally. “I hate horror movies.”

Bucky grinned and Darcy rolled her eyes, and then covered them with her free hand. He’d laid claim to the other again, knotting their fingers together as he turned on the couch to face her.

“Sam and Steve said they were good for that sort of thing,” Bucky said. “Mostly they make me feel kind of queasy.”

“So queasy!” Darcy said, twisting so their knees bumped gently together. “And like…I can’t even go around dark corners after. I’ve been turning all the lights in my apartment on every night for weeks.”

“I like musicals,” he said. “I like the dancing and the fancy outfits.”

“Oh my god, you are so sexy, did you know that?” She was grinning and pulling her legs up underneath her on the couch to nestle closer to him.

His throat made a little sound and his thoughts spun through a time when he did know that and he enjoyed it and he would’ve known exactly how to show a girl like Darcy why he didn’t mind watching six horror movies in three weeks.

“Sooo…” Darcy said, drawing him back to the moment. “You hate horror movies but you like sitting next to me and you don’t mind holding my hand?”

“I’m here for the hand holding,” he said. “Main motivator.”

“Did Steve and Sam mention what else horror movies are good for?” Darcy asked, scooting closer in.

Bucky was pretty sure they had and he had blown off the idea that Darcy—cheerful, sarcastic, brilliant Darcy—was gonna want anything from him but a scary movie buddy. He stretched his arm out across the back of the couch  to flick at the end of Darcy’s hair on her shoulder as a woman screamed hysterically on the screen.

“Might have,” he said, lips twitching. “M’old though. Might need a reminder.”

Her lips curled slyly up to one side. She pounced in time with a large bang from the movie, her hands bracing on his shoulders to push him back into the couch as she climbed up onto his lap with a giggle.

“You either have excellent game, or none at all,” Darcy said, laugh in her voice and grin on her face.

“Come down here and find out, doll,” he said from the cushions.

He wondered for half a thought if he could live up to his own memories, to her expectations. But she sighed, high and soft as their lips slid together, sweet and slippery and pressing deeper. Her body relaxed, spreading out over the length of him, melting against him as he turned to cage her against the back cushions, cradling her in his hold. And he thought that this was all a little bit familiar and absolutely never better.

[ragwitch]

First of all, you are amazing for doing this!

It didn’t make it up to M but I filled it up with cute for you. You are great

20. ‘I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.’

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky

Rating: T to M (for language)

‘Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.’ Wintershock for sachertortes

Darcy paused in the doorway of the next room and a man, or a robot, or a man-bot staggered up from some kind electric rigged chair that had red lights blinking and an ominous buzzing emanating from it. His left arm was built up with what looked like some modified armor from last spring’s Camelot and he was dressed in straps of black leather over his chest and dark cargo pants with combat boots.

“Uhhhhhhhhnnnnn,” he groaned around a black mouth guard. There was white stage make up applied liberally over every inch of bare skin aside from around his eyes, which were smeared with black.

“Not now ghost-bot,” Darcy said, trying to suppress the tremor in her voice. He was pretty scary, to be fair. She just really wasn’t in the mood.

“Uhhhhhhhhmmm.” The groan faded away thoughtfully and a pale hand reached up to grab the mouth guard as he spit it out. “Are you okay, Darcy?”

She stopped herself mid-stride and looked back in at the science experiment gone wrong…ghost-bot.

“Bucky?” she asked.

The metal arm creaked as he waved sheepishly back at her.

Huh. Bucky Barnes, a friend of a friend of a friend, who tended to sit on the opposite side of the house parties she attended but occasionally smiled at her from across the room as if to say ‘this isn’t really my scene either.’ Bucky Barnes with the man bun that seemed less provocative and more like the product of laziness or having grown up with too many sisters. Bucky Barnes, her campus crush, knew her name.

“Umm,” she stepped into the room and winced as a set of televisions to the right of her flared up with static and little green numbers running across black screens. “Have you seen Jane? I got separated from my group by Brock Rumlow.”

The campus theater department had rented out an old medical office building for this year’s haunted house fundraiser. And Jane, who was dating recent theatrical recruit Thor (who was friends with Steve on the football team (who was Bucky’s longstanding roommate)) had begged Darcy to come with her to see her boyfriend as the blood-crazed Viking (trapped in an office building, Darcy wondered) and then proceeded to show up to the event with another five of her science department friends. Leaving Darcy as an entirely unnecessary wheel for the night.

Bucky’s face darkened at the mention of Rumlow and while the expression might not have amounted to much on his normally gentle face, as a ghost-bot it really sold as intimidating.

“She hasn’t made it here, but there’s about a million ways to go through the maze so,” Bucky shrugged and then grimaced as the armor pinched at his armpit. “You want me to walk you through and we can find her?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Darcy said, faster than she really meant to. She wondered if it would be alright if she just sat the rest of the night out in here with him. She could be the ghost-bot’s victim or something.

“No, seriously, there’s a bunch of back ways through,” he said. “Lemme just lock up here.”

He passed her, smelling chalky from the make up and minty from…well, she’d once snagged a warm arm chair that he’d vacated for beer pong and she was pretty sure the mint was just him. He held out his metal hand and Darcy looked down at it and then back up at him. He started to pull away so she wrapped her fingers around three of the metal digits and pale lips smiled back at her.

“Need my real hand for door handles,” he said.

She almost answered that she didn’t really need to hold his hand, metal or not, but that seemed like a dumb thing to say. So instead she just followed him into a staged science lab leading off from his cubicle, where a two-headed scientist cackled over steaming test tubes.

“Hey FitzSimmons,” Bucky said.

“Hey,” they answered brightly.

“That is not far off from reality,” Darcy murmured and watched Bucky’s cheek grin from behind his shoulder.

“Here’s backstage,” Bucky whispered at the next door, holding a finger to his lips. Darcy nodded and he led her into a dark, narrow hallway lined with dim lights  and little chalk signs on every doorway that read things like ‘dentist’s office’ and ‘live dolls’ and ‘scary clowns.’

“You know, Brock shouldn’t have done that,” Bucky whispered, pausing outside of the ‘scary clown’ room.

“Yeah I kind of figured,” Darcy answered, shrugging.

The black and white make up was starting to smear around Bucky’s eyes, creasing at the corners as he smiled at her.

“I punched him in the nuts,” Darcy said and grinned as Bucky had to bury a snort behind his hand.

“Come on,” he said, turning the knob for the clowns. “We can ask Clint if he’s seen Jane.”

Even knowing it was Clint, swinging down a trapeze and cackling as he flipped in the air and landed in front of them in the doorway, it really didn’t help. Darcy screamed as a chest covered in fake blood, a mouth full of rotten looking teeth, and wild eyes loomed up close to her.

“Hey, man! Stage door, stage door,” Bucky snapped, stepping between them. Darcy wasn’t even embarrassed at the way she grabbed onto the leather at Bucky’s shoulders.

“Dude,” Clint groaned falling back, exaggerated frown melding with the red one painted over his face. “I’m so bored. No one wants to come see a scary clown.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Darcy muttered.

“Have you seen Jane? Rumlow split Darcy off from her group.”

“Low Blow Rumlow?” Clint scoffed. “What a dick. No, I haven’t but I heard some Jane like snorts from next door at the Mad Viking’s booth.”

“Thor, of course,” Darcy said.

“Cool, thanks. No more jump scares on fellow employees.”

“Pretty sure there’s a rule against holding hands with the attendants too, Buck.”

Bucky turned quickly, pushing Darcy back into the hall and shutting the door behind them. Darcy’s hands- which were not shaking, thank you very much, you were totally imagining that -were still digging into the straps of Bucky’s vest. She hadn’t really moved much when Bucky shut the door on Clint and they were pressed together in the hall, her head tilted back to look up into Bucky’s face.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah…yeah. I don’t think ghosts are supposed to feel solid.”

One of Bucky’s hands, the not metal one, appeared at her back, soothing at her spine and rucking up her t-shirt. “Not that I’m complaining, but I don’t think haunted house attendees are supposed to touch the ghosts.”

“Huh,” Darcy said.

Bucky’s hand on her back pulled her closer, forcing her feet to shift around his to fit him against her hips. She swallowed, possibly audibly, and noted that this already felt better than anything she’d tried with Ian last spring.

“You okay?” he asked again.

“I am. You asked that,” she said, grinning.

He grinned back, the pink of his smile standing out against the white make up. “That’s right. Meant to do it after I did this,” he said. And then his hand skimmed up her back to cup her neck as he bent down and kissed her.

He tasted chalky like the make up but it didn’t stop her from rising up on her toes to wrap her arms over his shoulders and chase his lips. There was a metal arm digging into her back and she didn’t mind that either because of the way it felt when their hips dragged against each other.

“Still good,” Darcy said, when he pulled away.

“Same, same,” he said, sounding a little ragged. “You opposed to giving me your phone number? For further kissing reasons? Dates too. Lots of dates. Been trying to date you for almost a year.”

“Well you’re clearly learning the technique now,” Darcy said, and her smile almost hurt for how wide it was. She pulled her phone out and made herself a long desired contact for Bucky Barnes and sent him her number.

“You busy later?” he asked, squeezing her hand with his own. This time not the metal one. They’d worked out that she would open the next door.

“I am free unless this ghost-bot texts me to make plans,” Darcy said.

“Good, good. Here’s your stop, you know what to do.”

Darcy did know what to do. She drew Bucky down by his hair for one more nibbling kiss that had him groaning. And then she threw open the door to the Mad Viking’s booth.

“BOO MOTHERFUCKERS,” she shouted, slamming the door shut behind her.

She could just make out the sound of Bucky’s laughter under the sudden bellow of Thor’s surprise. Jane, as it turned out, had moved on again, but Darcy did manage to scare the crap out of some freshman.

“Why are you covered in stage make up?” Jane asked, blinking at her as Darcy finally made it to the exit and found Jane and her science crew waiting for her. “Did you make out with a ghost?”

“I did, yeah,” Darcy said. She pulled out her phone to show Jane the text invitation from Bucky to meet him and the others at the local 24-hour diner after midnight, and then to loiter and have breakfast there, and then to take a nap at his and Steve’s place and eat toaster waffle sandwiches for lunch, and then to go get dinner together after either another nap, some making out, a Netflix movie or any combination of the above.

“Oh my god,” Jane murmured at the screen. “He has no chill and it’s so cute.”

It was so cute.

Jane took the science bros back to campus and then she and Darcy drove out to the diner. Inside, taking up seventy-five percent of the tables and booths, was the entire cast of the haunted house—in various states of uncostumed—and all their extended company. Thor was sitting with FitzSimmons and had a spot reserved for Jane. Bucky was spread out across an entire bench of a booth, Natasha and Steve on the other side, Sam Wilson sitting backwards on a chair at the end. When he saw her, he jumped up and all the water glasses on the table rattled.  Sam hid his face behind his hands, laughing.

“You made it,” Bucky said, sinking back into the booth and stretch his arm across the back.

Darcy took the invitation and leaned into his side. “Yeah…but I’ve got like three more dates lined up after this.” Bucky grinned back at her.

“Did you know you’ve got white handprints on your back?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompts - 9 - Wintershock, pretty pleaseeeeee

YAS. Yes you absolute can. This is in like a lady ghostbusters verse or something. And I love it, thank you! Thank you also to @bloomsoftly and @itsjanetsnakehole for the edits and beta help!

9. ‘I just now realized I’m on a date with a ghost.’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky

Rating: G to Tish cause I’m evil and I cut it off.

In her defense, she thought the whole ‘doll’ thing was an affectation.

The same went for the slicked back hair, the tailored pinstripe suit, the genuine enjoyment of jazz. (Darcy knew they were talented musicians she just couldn’t totally get into it, okay?)

If it weren’t the fact that he’d been sweet, checking on her when her heel caught in one of the raw old floorboards, and funny, joking about the fact the Green Mill Lounge was doing well enough it ought to be able to afford new floors since 1945, she probably would have written him off as too cheesy. It helped that he was disgustingly beautiful with his stupid little chin dimple and those pale eyes that practically glowed in the dim light of the bar.

She’d come for a friend’s birthday bar crawl and he’d shown them all the trapdoor Al Capone had used to escape to the Lakeshore during raids, and she sort of figured he worked for the bar, charming women and convincing them to stay for another drink. It was effective. She came back the next week.

She would learn to like jazz.

And she did a little. She like the music they played as he shepherded her around the dance floor, so familiar with the right moves that it only took a little nudge, a gentle leading, for her to follow him.

“You’ve got light feet,” he teased her.

She did not but she told that to Jane anyway who looked up from the triple axel EMF meter she’d been tinkering with, and frowned skeptically.

“Why don’t you guys get coffee or something,” Jane suggested.

And Darcy thought about asking Bucky to go out for a late night coffee, or even just to come back to her place. But he never brought up leaving the bar or seeing each other anywhere else. Just bought all her drinks and set her spinning around the dance floor (she wore flats now since the Green Mill really did seem to love their rickety old floorboards.)

Bucky held her close, cool cheek pressed to hers, as Darcy tried to pull her courage together in time with his gentle stroking up and down her spine.

“I think,” she whispered in his ear, and he shifted against her to listen. “I think you should come home with me tonight.”

Their steps faltered and Bucky stepped back from her, face falling.

“I can’t do that, Doll,” he said softly.

Darcy bit at the inside of her lip and looked down to the floor at their feet pointed toward each other.

“Don’t think I don’t want to,” he said, reaching out to chuck gently at her chin.

She took another step away and squinted up at him. “Are you married?”

“What? No, Darce, it ain’t like that, I swear,” he said, eyes wide and shining blue despite the green dance floor lights shining down on them.

“I don’t- I need a minute,” Darcy said.

She’d never been very good with rejection, and while Bucky’s hand brushed against her wrist as she pulled away he didn’t grab on and she made it to the ladies’ restroom alone. A woman was washing her hands at the sink and Darcy went to stand in front of the mirror, blinking back stinging tears and fiddling with her dress as if she had a reason for being there. The door swung shut behind the woman as she left and Darcy rounded to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it over her face. She’d wipe away her make up, gather up her dignity, give Bucky her number and tell him to call her if he ever wanted anything other than dancing and flirting. She didn’t need to spend more Saturday nights in a kitschy jazz club that was still peddling the gangster glory days. She lifted her face to wash away the streaks of mascara and found a familiar face staring back at her off one of the stall doors.

She turned, water dripping down her neck, to study the newspaper articles that plastered the swinging doors. She’d always thought it was a little gruesome that the Green Mill advertised all the people who had died at the club in the women’s restroom of all places. She’d never took a very good look at who those people were.

Like James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes, the young soldier come home from the war and roped into a life of light crime. Seduced by the femme fatale girlfriend of a budding mafiosa boss, and shot down for it in the women’s restroom. And there was that stupidly handsome face and it’s ridiculous dimpled chin, all dressed up in his army uniform, smirking back at her.

Ohhhh Jane would give her so much shit for this when she got back to the lab.

“Wanted to tell you.”

Darcy looked over her shoulder and there he was, pale and beautiful, dressed in that same silly suit, hair still perfectly combed back from his face.

“You can’t leave the bar,” Darcy said and Bucky nodded down at the floor. “Oh. Oh, have I- Does everyone think I’m some dumb girl who slow dances by herself?”

Bucky grinned at that and shook his head. He took a step forward, studying her carefully, and when she didn’t shy away his shoulders dropped slightly, smile growing.

“No, they can see me, more or less,” he said shrugging. “It’s just fuzzy. They won’t remember me exactly. Don’t know how you do.”

“I’m a medium,” Darcy said. “I work for a paranormal scientist. Who is never going to let me live this down.”

“I knew I’d never met anyone like you, Doll,” he said, voice soft and fond, sending fizzling tingles up and down her spine.

“Ohh Bucky…I can’t keep doing this,” Darcy said, backing up slightly into the post between the stalls. “We can’t even kiss.”

Bucky approached in slow, even steps, smiling and watching her face with heavy focus. “We can dance. We can kiss,” he said.

And maybe he had a point because his hands felt suddenly heavy on her hips. Her steps opened, fitting him against her until her back was pressed up the length of the metal post and Bucky’s nose was stroking down the length of her own. He was cool, cooler than a person ought to be, but he was solid. She was probably insane all the same but she tilted her head back and sighed as soft lips pressed to hers.

Her hands dug into the old wool suit and Bucky groaned as her lips parted.

She was in so much trouble. The man — the ghost — could kiss.

She was melting down the post and Bucky was pulling her harder against his chest and everything was shivery good, as he licked into her mouth. He tasted like old whiskey and smoke and her toes were curling in her shoes. He retreated slowly, teeth nibbling at her lips, mouth kissing across her cheek.

“We have got to make you corporeal,” Darcy said, trying to catch her breath. “I can’t live in this women’s restroom.”

“I’m in favor,” Bucky said, low and rumbling as he sucked a path down her neck.

“Okay.” She nodded and her head fall back. “Okay…we’ll call Jane. She loves a new project. Ohhh, Bucky. Call Jane next. This first,” and she dragged him into the bathroom stall with her.

[ragwitch]

Ooh! Love the Halloween Prompts :) Number 15 for wintershock? *bats eyelashes prettily*

Yay, absolutely! And you were not alone, @ibelieveinturtles also requested this prompt and pairing!

15. 'Pretty sure this bed frame from the flea market is haunted, but damn is the ghost good looking.’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky

Rating: T for language

It had been all about the four posters. Darcy had seen them rising up into the sky amidst the crowd at the flea market, the dark finish a little scuffed and a few of the twisting vines chipped. But it was a gorgeous behemoth of a bed frame and she didn’t care what anyone said about a young woman living alone. She wanted a King size bed. She could stretch.

She’d had to bribe Thor with pizza to help her move it into her apartment. And she had to straight up pay his sneaky little brother to help.

But it had been worth it in the end. After selling her soul for the nicest mattress she could afford, and nearly breaking her neck hanging curtains from the beams. It had all been worth it to collapse into her quilts and her nest of pillows, surrounded in perfect, velvet dark and fall softly to sleep.

“Never seen a mess like this in a bed before, doll.”

Darcy was on her side, suddenly awake, staring into eyes the color of incense smoke and a blue white face in the dark. But that couldn’t be right. Because there was no light to shine inside the shelter of her bed.

It was very cold.

And the man, who was also laying on his side facing her, noses nearly brushing, was very handsome.

“Who the fuck are you?” Darcy whispered.

“Name’s Bucky,” he said, pillowy lips quirking up at the corners. “You got a mouth on you.”

“And eyes and ears and a nose,” she said.

He looked farther down the bed and Darcy pulled the sheet up to her chin.

“You’re in my bed,” she said.

“It was mine first,” he said.

“Well. It’s mine now.”

“I’m afraid we’re sort of a package deal,” he said. “But don’t worry. I can’t touch. Just go back to sleep, I won’t bother you.”

Darcy frowned and the shining bright face with the dark hair flopping onto her pillow and the adorably dimpled chin just smiled.

She shut her eyes, only to test the waters, and fell right back to sleep.

It could have just been a very odd dream. That’s what Darcy told herself the next morning. And after three uninterrupted nights she believed it.

-

“Hey, doll,” he said, as she rolled over in bed a week later.

“Oh, boooo, you again,” she groaned.

“You think you just find well loved four poster beds at flea markets for a steal because you’re lucky?” he asked with a scoff.

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It’s haunted,” he said, raising his eyebrows. He shifted, propping his head up on his palm. Except that his arm didn’t make any indentation in her pillow.

She swallowed, hard, and he nodded.

“You’re a ghost?” she whispered up at the softly glowing man wearing a pair of pinstriped pajamas in her vintage four poster bed.

“Sorry, doll, you drew the short straw on this one,” he said.

“But you’re so…pretty,” she said.

He grinned and Darcy realized how colorless he really was when it was clear by the crinkle at his eyes and the way he flicked his tongue across his bottom lip that he should have been blushing.

“You’re a sight yourself,” he said glancing down at her.

“Cuuute,” Darcy said, and this time she let the sheet stay where it was. “And you can’t touch?”

Bucky blinked as she reached her hands back behind her head, the tank top she was wearing shifting around the low collar.

“No,” he said slowly. “I musta done something awful when I was alive.”

She giggled at this. “Well I guess if you’re just gonna lay there looking all handsome and non-threatening, you can stay.”

His eyes widened at that. “Really? You ain’t gonna toss the bed to get rid of me?”

“Pffft. I’d get an exorcism if anything. No way I’m tossing this bed, even if it does come with an unexpected resident,” she said.

“Ohh no,” he said. “Had a fella back in the seventies who tried that. He didn’t like that his guests found me easier on the eyes.”

“Mhmm?” Darcy said snuggling into her pillow and resisting the urge to fall back asleep. “Tell me all about your ghostly escapades in this bed. I love a naughty bed time story.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open for a moment, and Darcy thought his eyes almost flashed a clear and sharp blue, before he grinned slow and wicked. He shifted silently in her sheets until the chill of him was all along her front.

“Doll, I’ve got tales to curl your toes for days.”

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompts: wintershieldshock for #12 'I've got fifteen Apple pie recipes and we're going to test them all. Are you with me?' i love youuuuu

Thiiiiiiis miiiight be more about my love of pie than about the love of Darcy, Bucky and Steve D: But that’s okay cause I will be sharing my love of pie with you soon so this is like a precursor! Love you, bloombloomboomboombbnut!

12. ‘I’ve got fifteen Apple pie recipes and we’re going to test them all. Are you with me?’

Pairing: Bucky/Darcy/Steve

Rating G to T for a little implied smuff

Bucky ran into Steve’s back as he stopped still on the way into the apartment.

“What the-“ Bucky started.

“The hell?” Steve said at the same moment.

Bucky moved around the broad shoulders blocking his way, and found apples. Apples in blood reds and sour greens and soft pink and yellow shades, clumsily arranged on the counter, bags of flour and sugar and cases of butter and eggs squeezed in whereever they could fit. Darcy was behind the counter, her back to them, bent over a notebook as she flipped pages and muttered to herself.

“Hey there, Darce? Hon?” Steve said, passing him to the counter and lifting up a perfectly smooth red apple up from the corner. He brushed it across the shoulder of his shirt and had it poised at his lips when Darcy’s head lifted up and her arm swung back to point squarely at him.

“Don’t you dare eat that,” she said firmly, not turning. “I’m not sure I have security apples.”

“Security apples?” Steve mouthed to Bucky, setting the apple carefully back down on the marble.

“What’s going on, Darcy doll?” Bucky asked. He tried to keep his voice bright because the last time she’d had that tone she’d been so fed up with work and the attitudes in the lab that Bucky’s eyebrow had twitched up - more of an itch than an expression, really - and she’d spent the night on the couch not speaking to him.

“Fall fest on the compound,” Darcy said. “I said I’d make the pies.”

“The pies?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, there’s gonna be an apple pie buffet.” Another page flipped.

“There is?”

“There is now.”

Bucky frowned as he heard that little anxious break of breath in their girl’s voice but Steve carried on.

“That sounds great. I didn’t know Kathy had included it in the plans.”

“Kathy didn’t,” Darcy spit out and Steve winced and looked at Bucky, finally catching on to the trap he had laid for himself. “Kathy agreed to the idea but then came back four weeks later not having done anything other than decide that store bought pie isn’t good enough for the Avengers. When I suggested that we all just make the pie and contribute it to the event like a potluck Kathy said ‘No one makes pie anymore.’” Darcy concluded this by twirling around to face them and scoffing loudly. “So I said I’d make them.”

“I didn’t know you made pie,” Bucky said.

Darcy shifted on her feet and looked at the floor for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t not make pie. I’ve made pies before. A couple of times.”

“How…how many pies are you making now?” Steve asked, and Bucky could see his eyes scanning the counter doing the math in his head.

“Like thirty,” Darcy said, voice small and high, attempting some kind of nonchalance with the little smile that snuck up on her lips.

“Thirty…is a lot of pies…for Saturday?” Bucky said slowly.

Darcy chewed at her lip for a moment. “Well, with the two of you and Thor and Clint and Jane and then all the rest of us…I did the math.” She looked up at Bucky, blue eyes wide behind her glasses and he had a feeling he’d be peeling a lot of apples in the next few days. “And we’ve got the two ovens so that’s four pies in at any given time. I’m writing up a schedule. There’s two of each kind and-“

“There are different kinds of apple pie?” Steve asked.

“Honey caramel apple, and bourbon maple apple, and the granny smith with gruyere,” Darcy started to recite.

Bucky went ahead and snuck in behind Darcy to look through her collection of recipes. Apple Bacon Pecan? Chili Pepper Apple Pie? What had happened to pie in the last seventy years??

“I’ve got fifteen apple pie recipes and I’m going to bake them all,” Darcy said. She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “Are you with me?”

Bucky turned to the intricately laid out time table on the back page and glanced once at Steve who looked like he was imagining how to go about sneaking bites of all fifteen flavors.

“Let’s get this pie crust party started,” Bucky said.

_

There was a lot of prep. A lot of crust being processed, balled up, chilled, rested, rolled out, frozen, pre-baked. A lot of apples being peeled, sliced, diced, pureed, baked, soaked. Steve cut leaves and trees out of crust dough to create art work on the tops. Bucky peeled and cut and measured as Darcy paced and stirred and mixed until he caught her wincing with every step and hauled her over his shoulder to head to bed.

But three days later the kitchen—and Darcy—was caked in sugar, butter, and flour. Darcy’s feet were swollen from all the standing she’d been doing, her back ached from rolling out dough, and her hands were chapped from doing round after round of dishes. (Hers weren’t the only ones doing the washing but they were the ones that healed slowest.)

The apartment smelled of cinnamon, brown sugar, and sweetly sour apples. There were notes of bourbon, smokey bacon, tangy well-aged cheese, maple syrup, pears, caramel and honey, but the overwhelming fragrance was apple.

And Bucky could see Steve drooling a little, licking at his lips as he hovered over the counter where pies were packed in white pastry boxes.

“What do you think we need to do to get samples of these?” Steve whispered to Bucky.

“Not on your life, punk,” Bucky hissed back. “What we need to do is get Darcy to quit fussing. Last pies don’t go in the oven in for an hour.”

Steve’s lips pressed and twitched as he gazed across the counter at Darcy, her hair streaked with sweat and flour while she brushed cream across the top of her last crusts - which Steve had carved haunted houses into.

“You did an amazing job,” Steve said to her.

“You have to wait like everybody else,” Darcy said, wrinkling her nose.

Steve laughed down at the counter and shook his head. “I’ll go get the water running,”

Bucky rounded the counter and wrapped his arms around Darcy’s waist, hands settling at her hips, and smiled as she leaned back against him. One of her feet lifted and braced itself against his shin and he heard her soft, whimpering intake of breath.

“Kathy’s gonna feel like a dumbass,” Bucky whispered in her ear.

“I know, right?” Darcy said, grinning toothily at the tower of pies waiting on the counter, her head nodding against his shoulder.

“Let me wrap these up for you and put them in the freezer?” he asked. “Steve’s getting a bath ready for you.”

“Okay…” Darcy said. “But only because I trust you more than him not to eat raw pie.”

“I plan on taking anyone out who expects to get a slice of the Honey Currant before me,” Bucky said with a shrug, watching as Darcy shuffle-wobbled away from him. He packed the pies away in a few swift movements and picked Darcy up in his arms on his way out of the kitchen.

“Ohh sneaky,” she said, relaxing in his hold.

She smelled like caramel and sweat and he wanted to lick it all off her, which didn’t really seem fair given how tired she clearly was. She cuddled into his neck and they made it into the bathroom in time to watch Steve scoop a hefty cup of epsom salts into the warm bath water.

“Ohhh, I’m so old even my ninety something boyfriends have to take care of me,” Darcy mumbled from his arms.

“C’mere punk,” Bucky said. “Let’s see if we can strip her without her touching the floor.”

“Let’s see what else we can do without me touching the floor,” Darcy suggested, perking up as Steve stood, kissed her on the forehead, and started to help Bucky peel their girl out of her leggings.

Bucky nuzzled into her neck and found a sticky spot of maple syrup and warm salty skin. Darcy purred as he sucked and she squirmed in his arms.  He hummed, pulling away and licking his lips, and Steve’s eyebrows raised.

“I think there’s some bourbon over here,” Darcy said. Bucky wasn’t sure how she could always read their minds even with her eyes closed but Steve took the proffered arm and happily wrapped his lips around the hollow of her elbow.

Looks like they’d get an early sample of those pies after all.

[ragwitch]

Hi! I just saw your Halloween Prompts. May I ask for ShieldShock for 22. 'Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?’'Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?’29. ‘You’re the cutest person at this party, but you look like you’re freezing. Want to borrow my cape?’31. 'Holy crap. Best Halloween ever!’ ? I am comfortable with any rating you're inspired to write for them. ShieldShock is my OTP and I LOVE Halloween. So, any ShieldShock treats you can create would be loved and adored. :)

ABSOSMURFLY. This is for #22 cause I am saving #31 for the last day of the month cause of REASONS. (smutty reasons) Yay! Thank you for these prompts

22.’Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?’‘Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?’

Pairing: Darcy/Steve

Rating: T for intent *winks lewdly*

Steve stopped at the end of the hall before walking into the living room. He took one long look around the space, at the crumbling gray stone facade lining the walls, to the massive velvet curtains (color of dried blood) that hung in front of his floor to ceiling view of New York City, to the paper thin white cobwebs stretching across corners of the room, and then looked back behind him at the nice, normal entry hall.

“Darcy?” He called, trying to see past the bone chandelier hanging over their dining table and the rubber amputated hand holding a pile of candy in it’s palm on the coffee table by the couch.

“Hey, good looking!”

Darcy popped out from the kitchen wearing a black apron with the words ‘Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble’ in purple and orange glitter letters across the chest.

“Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?” Steve asked, sliding his training shield off his back to rest against the wall. But he thought better of it. It might get infected by the general ghoulishness that had spread across the decor since the morning.

“Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?” Darcy asked, nibbling into her bottom lip. Her hair was pulled up and back and as she turned to look around them room he saw the bright plastic pumpkins at the top of her ponytail.

“I didn’t realize there were levels,” Steve said.

The impish expression she’d been wearing wilted as she looked between him and the ghostly, gothic decorations covering every surface.

“That’s true,” she said and Steve considered swinging the shield up to brain himself with it at the way her voice had shrunk. “It’s just…dollar store Halloween stuff. I got carried away, we can take it down. It’s just…October!” She said the last word with false brightness and skittered back into the kitchen.

He rubbed his hand over his face, the rough grip of his gloves scraping his skin as he grimaced. He’d done this to Tony the year before at the start of December, trampling over a month of holiday cheer with a little bit of poorly timed skepticism. Steve retreated to the bedroom to tear out of his uniform so he could make up his ‘crotchety old grandpa attitude’ up to Darcy before she tore down all her hard work from the day.

The bedroom had also seen the treatment although in this case Steve could more clearly see the argument for ‘sexy dungeon.’ There was more velvet, and black candlesticks, and dried flowers, and she’d rigged up a canopy around their bed that Steve did not mind the idea of hanging onto when he imagined finding Darcy laying in bed behind the curtains. For now though there was just a black paper bag with orange and green striped tissue pepper sticking out of it. He grinned when he pulled out a pair of silky men’s pajamas patterned to look like a black and white tuxedo. A thin slippery black cape was next, and a pair of fuzzy black slippers with bats on the toes. At the bottom of the bag were white plastic fangs that just barely fit onto Steve’s teeth.

He stripped out of his tac-suit, changed into the pajamas (which fit surprisingly well aside from being a little tight around the shoulders and thighs) and the rest of his gift, and put his uniform away where it wouldn’t interrupt the scene Darcy had set. He paused and stared at the prop shackles that stretched across their pillows and then grabbed those too as he padded out of the room and over to the kitchen.

Darcy was transferring sugar cookies off a pan and onto a pumpkin plate and Steve’s heart ached at the way the corners of her mouth curved down. He swooped in, arms stretched out to make the cape billow, and wrapped his arms around her back as she squeaked in surprise.

“Now I m’ever thaw Noferathu,” Steve lisped through plastic fangs, grinning and trying to keep them in his mouth as Darcy giggled in his arms. “But I fink iths thupposeth to go thomethink like thith.” He nuzzled against her neck, hands slipping under the apron to squeeze at her hips and pull them back against his. With a little bit of effort, and nearly swallowing the fangs, he managed to get a long, gentle bite into the side of her neck.

The gasp and excited squirm that followed were both a surprise and absolutely fascinating to Steve.

“You’re a dork!” Darcy giggled, but she rolled her hips back into his and her breath hiccuped as he growled and bit down harder in response.

He pulled back and let the fangs clatter to the floor. “You’re a dork,” he said, somewhat unimpressively. “And I love it. Sorry I came in like a grump. I feel like I have a lot of October appreciation to catch up on, huh?”

She relaxed in his arms as he pecked at her cheek, and then her neck as she stretched it for him.

“You’ll have a good teacher,” she said. “It’s my favorite month.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Does my teacher want to explain to me what I’m supposed to do with these?”

He let the shackles roll out from where he’d held them in his elbow and lifted them to dangle in front of Darcy’s face. Her cheeks pinked but she didn’t shy away.

“You’re supposed to wear them,” Darcy said, eyebrows lifting. “So I can ravish you.”

Steve grinned. “Darcy I could break this chain in half a second.”

Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed and it was an expression he was both familiar with and extremely fond of.

“But you won’t,” she said, twisting in his arms and cupping his face in her hands so she could rise up on her toes and kiss his chastely. “Not if you’re being very, very good for me.”

Steve blinked and Darcy grinned.

“I’m beginning to find this dungeon very sexy,” Steve said and then bent down to bite at the white skin of her neck as she threw her head back to laugh, and then to moan.

[ragwitch]

Darcy Lewis, Unenchantress

IT’S THE FIRST HALLOWEEN PROMPT ANSWER!!! For @zephrbabe who requested #18 - Wintershock (I’m saving the ask for the other prompt that was included in it.)

In my head this is a Halloweentown/Nightmare Before Christmas AU and I may need to come back to it someday.

18. 'Are you a witch? Cause I am enchanted.’ 'That’s a terrible pick up line.’ 'What? No. I’m enchanted. Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?’

Pairing- Darcy/Bucky

Rating- Teen for language and innuendo I suppose.

Darcy was sipping on her black cat martini trying to decide if she was going to give her new velvet dress a spin on the dance floor, when six feet of muscle and scruff and one of Dr. Zolastein’s robotic arms came sidling up to her at the bar.

“Are you a witch?” he muttered under his breath in her ear. “‘Cause I am enchanted.”

Darcy’s eyebrows raised and she stared down into her purple drink for a long moment before turning her barstool to face him. He was shuffling in place and casting nervous glances around the bar.

“That’s a terrible pick up line,” Darcy said.

His head shot up, stunned and he stared back at her, eyes a compelling shade of moon blue. “What? No.” His head started to shake side to side nervously. “Like, literally, I’m under a curse. Can you help?” he whispered. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Darcy giggled and felt her cheeks heat up. “Sorry, my mistake. Umm, sure. Have you tried staking iron nails through your hands?”

“Unfortunately yes,” he said, raising his hands. The flesh one was lightly scarred in the center. The metal was spotless.

“Well good, because I didn’t want to try that one,” Darcy said with a shrug. “So, who got you? Was it Wanda? She has rough days, don’t take it personally.”

“Hydra,” he whispered.

“Oh shit.” Darcy nodded and reached out to pat at the human shoulder. It was a nice shoulder. She might have let her hand linger. But he leaned in so he didn’t seem to mind. “What’d you do? Stand her up? Leave in the middle of the night?” She winked.

“I pulled through into the parking spot she wanted at the grocery store,” he mumbled.

“Awww dick move.” She shrugged and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, grateful for the way he was eyeing her skin hungrily. Definitely a werewolf. He was totally thinking about marking her. And if he wasn’t a customer she might have let him. “Okay, so. What’s your full name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he said. “But I prefer Bucky.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes, James Buchanan Barnes,” Darcy trilled. She smiled at him. “How do you feel?”

“Confused?”

“Well it was a worth a shot.” She dug into her purse and pulled a slightly bent card out. Darcy Lewis - Unenchantress, Witch, Very Cute. “My address is on the back. Come by on the full moon and we’ll see what I can do.”

“Is that safe for you?” he asked. He smiled down at the card and ran his thumb over her name.

Darcy grinned and leaned forward to leave violet lipstick on his cheek. “You’re sweet to worry.”

_

The moon rose two weeks later and Darcy stood in her backyard, gray and brown werewolf facing her, teeth bared as it snarled softly.

“You’ve been a very bad werewolf!” Darcy snapped, finger pointed accusingly between it’s eyes. The growl deepened and Darcy barked back, “You pissed on my carpet.”

He really hadn’t. But it did the trick, the soft ears twitched  and the head cocked slightly.

“You ate my throw pillows!” Darcy yelled. The snarl faded and the downy brow furrowed. “You kept me up all night, howling at…at…bats!!”

Bucky’s little wolf head flinched slightly at that.

“That’s right! You can’t catch bats! You can’t even fly! What were you thinking?? And don’t even get me started on how you’ve treated my begonias! They didn’t need your fertilizer, you mangy old mutt!!”

Bucky whimpered at that and shuffled down onto his belly, gazing up at her with those husky dog blue eyes of his, snuffling at the ground apologetically.

Darcy took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “Okaaaay. Well…okay. I feel sort of bad now.” Darcy stepped carefully up to Bucky the werewolf. But he only gazed up at her, sniffing softly at her hand and scooting forward on his belly as she knelt down in front of him.

“Good boy,” she said, scratching behind his ears. His back leg thumped against the ground happily. “Good boy, don’t be scared,” she soothed gently. Then she whipped a knife out of from the back of her skirt and whapped him on the head with the flat side. He yipped and looked up at her with startled eyes, but nothing changed.

Darcy sighed. “Sorry, Bucky. Guess you better come inside and stay the night. I was serious about the carpet though, you better lemme know if I need to…take you outside for a walk or whatever.”

_

Darcy woke up to sun shining and a warm, naked man spread over her covers, his head nestling into her lap sleepily.

“So….” she started. Bucky’s head perked up, eyes heavy lidded and squinting. He looked down at himself, but then back up at her without seeming very bothered. “You’re still a werewolf,” she said. “But you’re a tame werewolf.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice raspy with sleep in a way that made Darcy turn warm in the belly. “Yeah, I definitely felt clear-headed.”

He was staring at the stretched collar of her nightgown hungrily. Right. She had changed in front of him last night. While he’d been a clear-headed werewolf.

“I have one more idea,” she said. “But ethically speaking, you couldn’t really be my customer.”

“Was I paying you?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Apparently not. Okay so…the oldest cure that we know of is to exhaust the werewolf with extended…physical activity.”

“Like running?” Bucky asked and Darcy noted the way his head tilted at just the same angle as the wolf’s.

“Sure. Sure. Running would work.”

There was a stretch of silence. Darcy looked down the bare length of him and then back to his face, raising her eyebrows. Then he raised his eyebrows and looked at her in her nightdress.

“Oh,” he said, and a tiny little smile started to grow on his face. “Is this a…one time prescription?”

“No, it’d be fairly long term,” Darcy said. The blankets were starting to pull back from her lap and she found his fingers as the culprits, slowly gathering the fabric under his grip.

“It sounds like the most…beneficial remedy you’ve suggested yet,” Bucky said, voice turning to gravel as he sat up on his knees and started to prowl up to the head of the bed.

“I’m very thorough,” Darcy whispered, kicking the blankets back.

“So am I,” Bucky said, grinning.

[ragwitch]

That's ok :) Wintershieldshock & 30 then?

Yaaaay!! Thanks for the prompt!

30. ‘I’m really sorry I tried to decapitate you but this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.’

Pairing: Darcy/Bucky/Steve

Rating: G

Darcy stepped back and stared between the three Avengers, two towering over her and pushing the third behind them as he sank to his knees clutching at the metal arm she had just electrically fried.

“Oops,” she said, and dropped the fire emergency axe she’d grabbed off the stairwell wall. It was meant as a gesture of peace but mostly she realized it left her defenseless against an extremely irate and gruesomely costumed Captain America and Falcon.

“You okay, Buck?” Captain America asked, voice snapping and eyes never straying from their fixed glare on Darcy’s face. A little bit of fake rot flaked off his firm jaw line as he clenched it.

“That should not have worked,” Bucky rasped, staggering up again, and trying to shake his cybernetic arm awake again.

“Umm…Tony Asgardian proofed my taser,” Darcy explained, hoping to be helpful. “In case of Loki…Or Thor if the good for nothing ever decides to show his face around here and explain to me why he thought it was okay to take the last of my triple chocolate gelato with him on his way off Earth.”

Falcon’s right eye blinked and the loose eyeball hanging out the left socket swayed. “That taser would’ve come in handy in the early days,” he said.

“Sam,” Captain America growled but the Winter Soldier, Bucky, just snorted and rolled his death white eyes.

“I really am sorry I tried to decapitate you,” Darcy said to him, standing on her tiptoes to try to meet his eyes around Captain America’s pronounced shoulders. “But this is why no one should plan a zombie flash mob.”

“Told you it was a dumb idea, birdbrain,” Bucky rasped at Sam.

“I would shut up while you’re an arm down,” Sam answered.

Captain America sighed heavily but Darcy caught the twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can fix it,” Darcy said. All three men stared at her at once and Darcy pointed to the arm. “Tony showed me the blueprints and I can guess which circuitry the voltage hit. It won’t take too long to get you running again.”

“You’re Darcy,” Captain America said.

“I am.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Darcy tried not read into the stunned expression on his face as he looked her up and down. “Steve,” he held out a strong hand covered in gore and fake stitches. Darcy winced as she shook it.

“I think you should keep it like this,” Sam said to Bucky. “Looks more true to zombie.”

“I’ll feel better when I know I can punch you when you deserve it,” Bucky said, flat and even.

“Well I gotta get downstairs to the mob,” Sam said with a shrug, heading back to the steps.

“Lab’s just this way,” Darcy said, nodding to the door. “You can come now or I can fix it later, up to you.”

She opened the door and tried not to listen to Bucky and Steve. No, that was a lie. She listened very carefully.

“You want me to come with you?” Steve asked as they followed her into the hall.

“Think you better, in case the arm glitches when she gets it running. Don’t want to hurt her, she’s a ripe tomato,” Bucky said, slightly under his breath.

“I don’t know what that means,” Darcy said glancing over her shoulder to see Steve blushing and Bucky watching her ass as she walked. “But I don’t like tomatoes.”

“Means you’re red hot, doll,” Bucky said, grinning and seemingly forgetting that his teeth were stained green.

Darcy swallowed a gag. “Then I should be some kind of cute pepper. Either way, your flirting is going to go over a lot better when you aren’t decomposing. I really hate zombies.”

Bucky’s grin fell and Steve’s hand immediately went to cover his rotting jawline.

“Told Sam it was a dumb idea,” Bucky muttered grumpily.

[ragwitch]

Halloween prompts: tasertorch for #6 -whispered in the ear- 'Boo.'? please and thank you and i love you!

Good morning, Bloom Bloom, I love you!! 

6. whispered in the ear- 'Boo.’ 

Pairing: Darcy/Johnny Storm

Rating: T

“Boo!”

Darcy watched, gleeful, as Johnny jumped in place, yelping  as all the blood drained from his face at once.

“Damn it, Darcy! Not cool,” Johnny growled under his breath, the color flushing back into his cheeks. He glared up and down the halls, checking for witnesses.

“I’m sorry it’s just…now that I know…” Darcy giggled.

“It’s not funny,” he said, very firmly. Or as firmly as he could manage it.

“No,” Darcy said, still giggling, “It isn’t. It isn’t! You’re right. I’m done, I promise. Really. No more jump scares.”

“It is cheap cinema,” Johnny hissed.

Darcy snorted. “Ohmigod, you’re adorable.”

Johnny rolled his eyes with a scoff but leaned into her space with a smirk. “I can give you much better reasons to think so, I assure you.”

Darcy paused, squinted and watched Johnny squirm as she made him sweat it out.

“I’m…good. Thanks,” she said.

“Sure, sure, so tell me. What do ‘spooky little girls like you’ get up to on Halloween night?”

“Wooooww. I got that reference but…still…”

“Aw Darce, give me a break,” Johnny laughed, combing thick fingers through tousled hair like he knew what it did to her.

Which he couldn’t have, right? Cause she was trying really hard to keep that a secret from him and pretty much everyone else.

Everyone but Natasha because that was useless. And because she was walking by them in the hall with that little purse in her lips as if to ask Darcy, ‘Really? I spent three weeks trying to set you up with Marco from Graphics and you’re ogling Johnny Storm’s side part?’

Or maybe that was just Darcy’s conscience speaking.

“I’m going to one of those real life scare experiences,” Darcy said. “You know, where they grab you off the street and make you stick your fingers in jello and yell at you a lot?”

Johnny blanched.

“I’m joking,” she admitted. “I’m gonna put on my Freddy Krueger onesie and watch Hocus Pocus on repeat until I pass out in a candy coma. You wanna come? You have to wear a costume.”

“But you said you were wearing-”

“A Freddy Krueger onesie is very scary,” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” Johnny said.

And that was when Darcy realized she'd just invited Johnny Storm to her apartment for the night.

_

There were several available solutions to the ‘Invited Johnny Storm over for Halloween Netflix (sort of) and Chill’ situation. Darcy tried all of them.

She invited Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sue, Bucky, Tony, Ben, Pepper, Maria, Nick Fucking Fury, and Clint over to join them. (Jane and Thor were off world.)

Everyone but Clint had plans.

She washed her face clean of make up and wore her bra without underwire. She turned all the lights on and she ordered garlic cheesy bread with the pizza.

But none of that helped when Darcy opened the door and found Johnny Storm wearing an astronaut onesie with a little astronaut’s backpack. Which he swung forward and opened, revealing bags of candy and a box of Hostess Scary Cakes.

“Boo!” he said, beaming at her. “I brought reinforcements.”

“I didn’t invite you here for sex,” Darcy said, partly to remind herself because holy crap he was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. She turned and pointed behind her. “See? Clint is here.”

Clint waved from the couch, garbed in a grumpy cat onesie, loaf of garlic cheesy bread halfway to his mouth.

“Yeah, I knew that,” Johnny said shrugging. “Still wanna hang out.”

“Ohhhhkay cool,” Darcy said, stepping back to let the man in.

Johnny ended up sitting between Darcy and Clint on the couch, with Clint’s cat paw slippered feet up on his lap. And somewhere along the night the lights got turned off because there was too much glare in the graveyard scene. And then somewhere farther along in the night Clint rolled off the couch with one of the cushions and ended up sprawled across her floor, all the Scary Cake wrappers spread around him, snoring.

And then a bit after that Johnny leaned in to whisper in her ear, “That Freddy Krueger onesie really is terrifying.”

Darcy tipped the brim of the fedora at the top of the hood farther down her forehead.

“I know,” she said.

Johnny passed her half his kit-kat.

“You need me to hold your hand or something?” she asked.

She could feel him looking at her. “Yeah, I think I do,” he said.

So she did.

[ragwitch]

Mata Hari at the Party

29. ‘You’re the cutest person at this party, but you look like you’re freezing. Want to borrow my cape?’ shieldshock for @glynnisi (saved your ask for another prompt!)

Costumes are:

Bucky as Frank N. Furter, Steve as Rocky, Darcy as Mata Hari

Pairing: Darcy/Steve

Rating: G to T 

“Oh wow,” Darcy said, freezing in place, unable to stop her jaw from dropping. Someone had put Bucky in fishnets and a perm. The eyeshadow…well he might have done that himself. She’d seen him done up for a mission. The lipstick however… “Hey, are you the one that stole my Femme Fatale lip stain out of my bag?”

That hadn’t been what she meant to ask. She meant to ask Bucky ‘Who did this to you?’ Or ‘What bet did you lose?’

“It was Tony,” Bucky said. And to be honest, that probably answered all of her questions.

“You let him pick your costume?” She guessed.

“Steve let him pick his costume,” Bucky said, folding his arms over the skimpy black corset. “I was guilt tripped into it.”

Someone really needed to have a talk with Tony about abuse of emotional manipulation now that the team was all back together. But it wasn’t going to be Darcy because she couldn’t say she hated the view of Bucky done up in black lingerie and drag.

“Wow,” she said. “Well, you’re definitely the most…stacked Frank-N-Furter I’ve ever seen.” And she’d been to quite a few midnight musical versions of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Bucky shifted in his booty shorts, dark smirk spreading across his lips. She shrugged, shame free.

“You look cozy,” he said, nodding at her fur cape and drapey silk skirts. “You some kind of queen?”

“I’m a spy,” she said. He squinted up at her beaded head piece and she let him puzzle on it. “Thor brought back the cape for me. I’m pretty sure he killed whatever it came from though…I try not to remind myself of that fact,” she said, wincing. “So, wait…where’s Steve?”

“Hey Darcy.” Steve peeked his head out from around the dark, slanted archway Bucky had been lurking in that led to the terrace. Tony had really gone all out on the decorations and the whole community space on the top floor of the facility was full of rugged wood beams and hay bale benches and eerily dark nooks and crannies. One of which Steve was delicately stepping out of, clad in nothing but a tiny gold speedo, hair soft and falling into his face.

“Oh,” Darcy said, blinking at…all of the skin. “Oh. Oh that’s…”

“Excruciatingly embarrassing,” Steve suggested.

“Really clever,” Darcy finished. “Sorry. Just the whole…ideal man thing. Tony’s a bit of a dick.”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink. And then so did the top of his chest. How far did that go she wondered? His arms shifted over his chest trying to cover more space on his body than was physically likely. He only had two arms after all. She considered volunteering her own.

Tony was more than a bit of a dick. Dressing Steve up as Rocky, a mad scientist’s dream hunk, reeked of both his Howard issues, as well as his Steve issues. But she was a little grateful for those issues with this view in front of her. So many muscles.

“Sorry,” she said, again, shaking her head. “You look…cold. Are you cold?”

“A little,” Steve said, shrugging.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Punk’s shy.”

“I don’t see you strutting your stuff for the party,” Steve muttered.

“You’re right,” Bucky said. “How ungracious of me. Keep the ideal man company for me, doll. Gonna make my rounds.” Then he swatted Steve, hard, right on the ass.

Steve growled under his breath.

“Here,” Darcy said, peeling off the velvet and fur cape she’d been wearing. She held it out to a dumbfounded Steve. “Put this on, you look miserable. And then we can go raid the buffet together.”

“No- no- I couldn’t- you don’t- that’s not-”

Darcy smiled at his stammers and watched as the blush on his cheeks spread farther down his chest.  She smoothed down the sheer silks draping over her hips and gave the delicately beaded bra a subtle adjust. She caught Steve staring at her hands as she ran her fingers under the straps.

“I’m Mata Hari,” she explained. “Wrong shade of lipstick, but Bucky’s got my favorite on.”

Steve blinked. “I should give you this back,” he said. He’d put the cape on backwards.

“No, it doesn’t really go,” she said. “I only brought it in case everyone was doing like a low-key professional thing. But at least five of the HR department is doing some kind of tarts and vicars thing so…”

She turned to wander off and heard rustling and footsteps close behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Steve had gotten the cape on right this time, and it was barely covering the tops of his thighs. He was also staring openly at her bare back.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“I feel like we should take turns wearing this,” he said. “You might need- you might get cold.”

“I guess you better stay close by then,” Darcy said. She passed by Bucky, Clint and Sam who all raised their eyebrows appreciatively until Steve appeared at her left, blocking them from view.

“Probably better,” he said, red faced.

“I’ll snuggle in if I get chilly,” she said, just to test the waters.

Steve swallowed, twice, before speaking. “Seems like a good plan.”

Happy Halloween, indeed, thought Darcy.

[ragwitch]

Tony Stark, Dungeon Master

for @ibelieveinturtles who is a sweetie pie.

22.’Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?’ 'Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?’ 

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes

Rating: G

“Oh dear,” Darcy murmured as the motion sensitive plastic ghoul cackled down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Bucky scoffed and holstered his gun, batting irritably at some low hanging sticky cobwebs.

“Why does our apartment look like a dungeon?” Bucky asked her, swinging their duffel of vacation luggage down to the floor. (It was mostly a collection of clothing and swimsuits Darcy had barely gotten the chance to wear since Bucky was full of compelling arguments for staying in bed together…naked in the sunny beach bungalow.)

“Bad dungeon or like…sexy dungeon?”

The gun was out again, this time pointed at a gleeful Tony at the end of the now dark and gloomy hall. Darcy soothed her hand down Bucky’s spine while Tony just rolled his eyes.

“I wanna go back on vacation,” Bucky grumbled, holstering his gun again and ignoring Tony in favor of pouting down at his…his wife. Just thinking it put a little bit of a smile back on his face.

“I’m not sure the brand of the dungeon matters at the moment, Tony,” Darcy said with a sigh. “What happened to our apartment? Did you throw a party in here?”

Tony gasped and rested his hand against his chest in feigned offense. “Don’t be…I mean there was like a little gathering but no, that was before I brought in the decorations. Halloween is only a week away and I figured with getting married and then the honeymoon…you wouldn’t get the chance.”

“To turn our home into a horror movie?” Bucky asked, voice near a growl. The ghoul on the wall next to Bucky started cackling again and Darcy watched he reached over and plucked a cord free from inside the ghouls’s shredded cape. The hall was quiet.

“You really went…all out,” Darcy said to Tony, hoping to sound more diplomatic.

“An effort that was apparently wasted,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Darcy elbowed Bucky lightly in the side and glanced out the corner of her eyes, trying to pass along a message of ‘be nice’ through the look.

Bucky huffed, once, and said in a tone so flat you have balanced a pin on it, “It’s great.”

Darcy groaned softly and Tony took a long look around their living room before shrugging and meeting them by the door.

“Alright,” he said. “I see how it is. I was gonna tell you where I hid all the jump scare bots but now I’m just gonna leave it booby-trapped.”

“Tony,” Darcy tried but he was out the door.

“I’ll find all the rubber spiders, doll,” Bucky said, smiling.

“Just don’t shoot them, kay Buck?” she said, smirking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

He grumbled, picked up their bag from where he’d dropped it, and trooped ahead of her into the apartment. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and sent off a quick text to Tony.

Aside from the breaking and entering, it DOES look awesome.

She didn’t expect a response from the older man. He’d probably gone off to huff and puff at Rhodey. But hopefully it would keep him from detonating any traps he might have laid in the apartment.

“Daaaarce,” Bucky called from bedroom, a frustrated crack in his voice.

“Shit,” she muttered to herself. Maybe she’d sent an olive branch too soon. She hurried through the living space, past a new coffin shaped dining table and a maze of cobwebs.

She stopped in the door to the bedroom, the smell of licorice and beeswax in the air and a glow of candlelight coming from the bathroom. They had a new four poster bed, huge enough that Darcy was certain she could toss and turn to her hearts content without ever rustling Bucky from his heavy sleeps. It was decked with heavy, lush curtains and pillows and a comforter that looked like they’d been made out of clouds.

“I’m gonna have to apologize,” Bucky said, in their bathroom doorway, grimacing. “He put in a jacuzzi tub.”

Darcy blinked at that announcement. “Does it work?”

Bucky grinned. “Feeling road weary? We could try it out.”

“Should probably at least check it for booby traps before you apologize,” Darcy said, shrugging out of her hoodie and moving to unzip her jeans.

“Probably shoots out slime,” Bucky agreed, shucking off his own pants before walking deeper into the candlelight of the bathroom. Darcy followed behind, giggling and leaving a trail of clothing in her wake.

[ragwitch]

I'm LIVING for these Halloween prompts!!! Can I claim #26 "trick or treat" for TaserTorch and make it as dirty as you want!

I made it as dirty as I could! Well maybe not, but it’s pretty dirty YAY! thank you to @bloomsoftly for the beta helping!!

26. ‘Trick or Treat.’ 

‘Do I get to choose the treat?’

Pairing: Darcy/Johnny

Rating: E for explicit!

Johnny: Trick or Treat 🎃

Darcy: Do I get to choose the treat?

He hadn’t been completely sure how his efforts had gone with Darcy at Stark’s Halloween party over the weekend. She’d laughed when he failed to land a joke, wandered off midway through their heckling of the DJ, and never once glanced at him out of the corner of her eye while dancing.

But this was a pretty promising response to what he’d really only meant as a holiday text. Well, a holiday text with the hope of opening a casual dialogue that might lead his way into a casual date or two.

Now he had Netflix and chill plans at Darcy’s apartment.

Maybe he’d landed those jokes better than he thought.

Darcy opened the door, dressed in a black t-shirt dress and black and white striped thigh highs. There was just a sliver of skin showing between the two and Johnny was immediately interested in dropping to his knees and licking along the line.

“Are you ready for this?” Darcy asked, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

“So ready,” Johnny said, trying to stamp down the flare of heat in his palms.

“Awesome,” she said, grinning and stepping back from her door. “I was so bummed when everyone else cancelled. I dunno if I could’ve binged the whole thing by myself.”

“Uhhh…” Johnny stepped into the apartment, brain spinning.

“But it’s criminal to expect me to wait until the weekend when people aren’t ‘working’ to find out what happen to my bb Eleven,” Darcy continued, stopping by the kitchen to grab a giant bucket of popcorn and another of assorted chocolate candy. “It’s been over a year already. C’mon people! Who’s your fave? Mine is Dustin. He’s so emotionally stable.”

Stranger Things.

Johnny was here to watch Stranger Things. It’d been mentioned early on at the Halloween party and he’d agreed and then…probably forgot about it. Clearly, he had forgotten about it.

“Y’all are superheroes,” Darcy said with a sigh. She bent slightly to put the buckets on her coffee table and Johnny gazed at the new peek of pale skin with the slightly disappointed realization that the stockings were not meant to be provocative, just festive. She faced him an added, “When do you ever get weekends off?”

“Pretty much never,” Johnny said once he’d caught up to the situation.

Darcy bounced down onto her outrageously puffy turquoise couch. She put her feet up between the buckets and there were pumpkins on the soles of the socks. Johnny went to join her and decided not to mention that he’d skipped out on dealing with doombots in midtown. The team would be fine without him anyway.

_

They were five episodes in, the popcorn was down to kernels and there were candy wrappers scattered across the table. Darcy had shifted from sitting next to him, to leaning against him, to the both of them laying down the length of the couch with her half on top of him.

There had been a moment earlier where Johnny realized that he was touching the skin of Darcy’s thigh between the hem of her dress and top of her socks. But then a monster had burst into the scene, his hands had squeezed on the backs of her thighs, and Darcy had jumped and dug her chin into his shoulder, wincing at the screen.

But now she was wiggling over him, reaching out to the remote on the coffee table, legs straddling his hips.

“What- what’re you doing?” Johnny asked, trying to ignore the feel of her in his lap, or the fact that the dress had ridden up so that it was just covering her and there was whole new landscape of blue white skin to appreciate in the dark.

Darcy paused the auto play and stretched to put the remote back down. Johnny swallowed as her dress shifted and he saw just a sliver of candy corn striped cotton underwear.

“How do you feel about a sex break?”

“Huh?” Johnny asked, half sitting up and trying not to choke on his surprise.

“That’s why you wanted to come tonight, right?” Darcy asked, smiling down at him.

“Umm…”

“If it isn’t then I can-” she started to lift slightly off his lap and Johnny clamped his hands over her thighs to pull her back down. “Ohh,” she said softly, and she shifted over him, rocking for a moment before biting her lip and making herself fall still.

“Really? You’re cool with that?”

“I only really paid attention to about the first twenty minutes of that last episode. Your hands have been distracting me and I’m getting pretty wet.”

Johnny knew his mouth was hanging open. Objectively, he knew it was open. That he was staring at her, jaw dropped, face stupid with surprise. But he couldn’t feel it?

“I would love a sex break,” he said, finally. “You wanna…here?”

Darcy pulled her glasses off, and stretched again to put them down next to the remote.

Johnny let one hand slide up her thigh, thumb rubbing in, so he could lift her skirt up. She hadn’t lied, the orange crotch of her panties was a little damp and dark. He pushed his thumb there and watched as Darcy’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and she pushed back against his thumb, eyes fluttering shut.

“Can we, can we do this a little first?” she asked, breath gasping, bouncing against him on his lap where he was growing hard, cock twitching as she rubbed against it. “I love this part.”

“We can do pretty much anything you want,” Johnny said and twisted his hand so that she was pressing against his fingers, stroking herself there.

She bit a little cry behind her lips and then fell forward, bracing herself against the arm of the couch so she could lean down to bite and lick her way into his mouth. Johnny groaned and sucked the chocolate and buttery salt flavor from her tongue until she pulled away to moan, eyes squeezed shut.

“Will you finger me?” she breathed against his cheek.

“Yeah.” Johnny’s forehead bumped softly against her cheek as he nodded urgently, fingers fumbling against the edge of her sodden panties where they were sticking to her skin. “Coolio. Shit. I mean. Yeah, absolutely.” He would be fucking delighted to.

He was achingly hard now and Darcy wasn’t doing much more than bumping against him where he was tenting the sweatpants he’d worn. But she was slippery and warm inside of the wet cotton and she froze still and held her breath as he nudged first one and then another finger inside of her.

“Let me know if I get too warm,” he said, watching her cheeks flush and lips part as she rose slightly and sank down on his knuckles with a huff of breath. She squeezed around him and Johnny’s eyes crossed a little at the feeling.

“Warm is good,” she said, voice low and ragged. “Warm would be lovely.”

And she moaned and pressed down against his hand as he let himself heat up just a bit.

She came back for more kisses, and Johnny sat up with her, one arm wrapped around her waist to help her ride his hand. They trade nibbles and sucks and when Darcy started to pant and sigh in earnest, hands braced on his shoulders, he settled for licking long stripes up her throat.

“I’ve got- oh, fuck, i’m so close, Johnny. I’ve got condoms stashed in that thro-ohhhhhhh, oh god, oh shit. Throw pillow. Throw pillohhhahh ahh!”

Johnny stifled his grin, just barely, and watched Darcy’s breasts bounce softly in front of his face as she arched backwards and came with a long squeal, muffled behind closed lips. She clenched and squirmed on his fingers as his thumb rubbed at her clit until she started to jump away.

“You still wanna?” he asked as she drew herself forward to snuggle under his chin. “Too much?”

“Noooo,” she said into his neck. “I wanna. Definitely wanna. You care if I go grab my vibe?”

Johnny blinked. Shit. Who was this girl?

“No, I’m cool with that,” Johnny said, trying not to growl.

She shuffled off his lap, leaving his hand sticky and wet, as she stumbled towards her bedroom.

“God, I’m totally dripping,” she called out to him. “Put the condom on and we’ll be ready.”

He let his head fall back on the arm of the couch in stunned delight for a moment before the words really registered. Put the damn condom on Storm, and you’ll be ready for fucking Darcy Goddamn Lewis. Who was probably his new official dream girl. He grabbed frantically at all the throw pillows until one crinkled promisingly.

He’d stripped out of his t-shirt and had his sweats shoved down his hips, the condom rolling down the head of his cock, when Darcy reappeared. She had a black and silver little curved device in one hand, a towel in the other, her striped stockings running up her legs, and was otherwise beautifully bare.

“Oh damn that looks delicious,” she said, staring at his hands around his cock.

Her hair was up in a ponytail and her breasts were hanging heavily, nipples perky in the cool apartment, and Johnny could see a slight sheen of wetness gleaming from between her legs.

“Know what you mean,” Johnny said, staring back.

She preened, and the ponytail swayed. “Thanks. Get out of those sweats, I need your spot.”

Johnny obeyed, maybe a little too fast since all the blood was south of his head, and almost fell over as Darcy shimmied up onto the couch, draping the towel over the arm and then settling herself on top, wedging the vibrator between her and the towel.

“Holy shit,” Johnny whispered as she spread her legs a little, ass in the air and ponytail swaying down her spine. A buzz started up and Darcy looked back at him, biting down on her lip.

“Saddle up Storm, I want you in me when I come this next time.”

Before he could think straight Johnny was pushing in, Darcy whimpering, and he could feel the soft vibration running through her. His fingers dug into the plushy skin high on her ass as he swallowed heavily and tried not to lose control with slow and deep strokes.

“Next sex break,” Darcy panted, head sagging as she breathed deep, pacing herself with his thrusts. “I get to suck you off.”

Johnny looked up to the ceiling as if to thank the Great Pumpkin himself for this night, but then realized what he was missing and looked directly down again.

“Only if we can be fair about it,” Johnny managed as he watched himself disappear into the prettiest, pinkest, pussy he’d ever seen.

Darcy giggled and then pressed back against him with a moan. Johnny was pretty sure this wasn’t what Sue meant when she said he’d find somebody someday to tame his wildness. But he had a feeling Darcy Lewis was going to prove herself the best candidate. She certainly felt like it.

“What a treat, huh?” she asked. Johnny bucked into her, jaw loose at the way she trembled around him, and nodded dumbly in agreement.

[ragwitch]

19. Quicktaser. Please and thank you. ❤❤❤

Oh my word, I hope you forgive me. O.O

Also as for ‘koshn’ya’ I must have made it up and then given myself no note for what I intended it to mean, but I’m guessing the translation is ‘kitten.’ *shrugs*

19. in the dark- 'Your hand is really cold.’’…I’m not holding your hand.’

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Pietro Maximoff

Rating: T

“Are you scared?”

Pietro’s voice was hollow in the dark cave, bouncing around the craggy walls as Darcy listened to Jane’s magnetic monitors humming in the humid air.

“Are you scared?” she parried back. Of course she was scared. It was dark and wet down here and she wasn’t allowed any electronics but the ones that were sending energy waves deep into the core of the earth and reading how they bounced back out into space.

“I was just asking,” he said, a little pout in his voice.

The monitor beeped near her feet. The waves were on their way back out.

“Your hand is very cold,” Pietro said.

Darcy thought she might have swallowed her tongue in the silence that followed, she had such a hard time finding a breath to draw in.

“Pietro,” she whispered. He ‘hmm’ed. “…I’m not holding your hand.”

She heard a soft, wet skid, several feet away but the noise volleyed around the space until she couldn’t say for sure what direction it had come from.

“That isn’t funny,” Pietro said.

Darcy wasn’t laughing. “If you’re messing around,” she warned him, her heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing through her ears. She stomped her feet. “I’m not touching you. I’m over here.”

“Darcy,” he snapped, voice sharp and angry. She heard more wet shuffling. “Darcy.” This time his voice was breathy, anxious. “I can’t move.”

“I can hear you-”

“Darcy I can’t run,” Pietro said.

The machine at her feet beeped again. Earth’s crust. Space next.

Where was Pietro?

“Darcy-”

“I’m coming,” she said, scuffling along the ground until her toe tapped on familiar plastic. The cave wasn’t wide. If she could keep one foot touching Jane’s monitor while she circled and searched for Pietro and…and whatever giant leech or totally normal phenomenon he had mistaken for a hand…

“Just keep talking to me,” she said.

“It feels like there is someone next to me, Darcy, please,” Pietro hissed. “I can’t…I can’t move.”

“You have an arm free?” Darcy asked, windmilling her arms in the dark, waiting to smack into rock or something worse. “Just wave it around, okay? I’m gonna find you. Keep talking.”

“I volunteered for this, to come down here with you,” Pietro said, rapid and clipped as if he spoke faster she would find him sooner. The consonants bounced in the dark, hitting the rock walls like raindrops. “Wanted to impress you. Have an excuse to touch you.”

“That’s so cute, actually,” Darcy said. Her heart was hammering and she couldn’t tell if it anxiety or the little thrill of Pietro’s confession.

“Darcy,” there was a little whine in his voice.

“I hope you were planning on keeping your hands in appropriate places,” Darcy said, her own voice rising in pitch. “Cause this isn’t a very good first date. But it might have gotten you one if you were a gentleman-Oh!”

Pietro cursed in a deep gasping breath as Darcy’s fingers clutched into the fabric of his track suit and his own hand reached up to grasp at her arm. The machine beeped on the floor.

Darcy let her hand slide into Pietro’s, sweaty but humanly warm, as she stretched and grabbed onto the handle of the monitor.

“It let go,” Pietro breathed. “Darcy, it let go, whatever it was-”

“I have the monitor, get us out of here!” Darcy squealed the last word as Pietro bundled her against him so fast she felt her head bounce back and her neck strain.

There was a clatter of rock falling as Pietro zipped them up around a twisting incline of rock leading up out of the cave.

_

Jane was busy uploading the readings as Darcy tried to explain that, No. No. Just because the readings were accurate did not mean that the project went well. Something had been down there with them. Thor was paying attention at least.

“There are many ancient beings dwelling in the caves on Asgard,” he said with a slow nod. “They are spaces of slow change, often immune to death as we understand it.”

Darcy shivered and went to see how Pietro was doing with the small medical staff they’d brought along.

He was sitting in the back of the van with a bandage around his bicep where he’d scrapped it against the rock wall on their way out. He was twisting his wrist in front of him, as if he was looking for a stain or some evidence of the grip that had held him in place.

“That was a terrible first date,” Darcy said, and then winced and shook her head minutely, wishing she could rewind a minute.

Pietro looked up at her and smiled instead. “Awful,” he agreed. “Thank you koshn’ya,” he added. “For getting me out.”

“I was going to say the same to you,” Darcy said. “I don’t like the dark.”

“Neither do I, now,” Pietro said, half-smiling, half-grimacing. His eyes turned down to his arm again and he turned it over, brow furrowing.

“Is everything…okay? What did the doctors say?”

“It feels…” Pietro frowned, rolling his hand on his wrist. Then he blinked and shook his head. “It’s fine. The doctors say everything is fine.”

He didn’t look fine though, Darcy thought. He looked…slow, weighted there in the back of the van, shoulders drooping.

“Fine is okay,” she said, sitting down next to him and taking hold of his hand. The other one.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice thin, wrist still turning this way and that as his eyes studied the skin until she too was looking for some sign. A bruise. A wet imprint. Anything. “It’s okay.”