Bucky’s Men Can Tell When He Hasn’t Talked To Malyshka That Day ( In The Context They Are In A LDR)

one look and they'll know

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Summary: You go to work on the set of Thor Ragnarok one day and you're greeted with the sight of one Tom Hiddleston on his knees and your coworkers whispering about how he perfected his posture.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning/s: implied smut (there's like 2 paragraphs that talks about it), mentions of BDSM terms, talks about throat grabbing, cussing, and a potentially Domme!Reader that doesn't know her power [if i missed anything let me know!]

Working as a set designer on a movie set meant that every day could either be agonizingly monotonous, or no two days would ever be the same. There was this one TV episode you worked on where majority of the project took place in an interrogation room, so there was next to nothing for you to do besides making sure that continuity errors were minimized or even completely avoided.

This project…was not agonizingly monotonous. By some stroke of luck, you'd landed a gig as a set designer for Thor: Ragnarok, and now you were working on sets that would be walked on by the likes of Chris Hemsworth, Anthony Hopkins, and--fucking Christ on a crutch--Tom Hiddleston.

When you decided to leave your day job of weekly software patches and bug fixes and the ever droning minutiae of daily updates that really gave you nothing except migraines and a bad habit of stress-eating for a chance at a career in the entertainment industry, did you ever think it would lead you here? Absolutely not. Truthfully, you were content with the interrogation rooms, but this? This was a pipe dream.

"Ah. Morning, Y/N," you heard the moment you stepped on set from Taika, currently dressed in a skin-tight spandex gray CGI suit with a giant Korg head harnessed atop his shoulders. "We sourced enough sugar glass bottles for Tessa to throw in Tom's general direction today, yeah?" 

"Well I got five dozen so…we should be good," you shot back with a chuckle. You knew full well what the cast and crew got up to when sugar glass was involved. Mostly smashing it on each other's heads and making some great takes for the blooper reel.

"Awesome. I'll see you there." With a wave you started walking toward your fellow set designers, currently glancing and giggling at one of the Sakaar sets.

"Alright, what's got your panties wet this time?" you called out to your coworkers. 

Bryan, a lanky guy slightly taller than you motioned toward the set. "Look at Hiddlebum." 

"I'd really rather not, you know that I trip on air the second I even glance in his direction," you shot back. "I can't keep my dignity around that man, let alone my sanity. Don't tell me to look at him." 

"He's not gonna look back," Denise, a curvy redhead and one of your closer friends on set, commented in a sing song tone. "Trust me, boss, you're gonna wanna look." 

With a huff, you glanced toward the set and you could wear that your heart turned to solid lead and then jumped out of your chest and straight to the ground. Lord have mercy, you were not ready for the image of Tom in his dark blue-green leather getup, wrapped in gold chains, on his fucking knees, back perfectly straight, and head tilted down to the floor.

The sound that came out of your mouth did not sound ladylike. Hell, it didn't even sound human. 

"Do you think he's--?" Denise started.

"Ohh he definitely is, I mean look at that posture! You don't get there from looking up one picture, you get there from practice and meticulous correction. This man's a sub."

"Sorry, a what?" You were now officially, thoroughly, confused.

"Submissive," Bryan explained to you. "It's a whole thing that needs a 6-hour crash course and a 40+ slide Powerpoint presentation, but for your immediate knowledge, madam, it means he likes being ordered around in the bedroom." 

"So what? Like strip? Slowly? Walk over to me, come to momma type shit?” 

"I'm shocked how quickly you got the vibe, boss," Denise quipped. "Bry, what if she's a domme?"

"A what??" you nearly shrieked. "You think I'm the one who says 'strip slowly and sit down like a good boy and don't move a muscle while I ride you'?" You took a breath to calm yourself. "You're fucking insane, the lot of you."

"Again, you got the vibes, boss. The more you joke about it the more I'm convinced that it's in your DNA."

You let out a frustrated exhale. "Alright you two knuckleheads, look at me." Your voice dropped half an octave and became fuller as you said the last bit, using a tone you hadn't taken out ever since you resigned from the testosterone-laden world of software development. 

"Yes, goddess?" Your blood froze over as you heard the soft spoken words. There was no way it was…No. 

Right?

You looked at Bryan and Denise, both with matching expressions of wide-eyed scandalous amusement on their faces, as they shifted their gaze back and forth between you and Tom. Slowly you moved your gaze back to the set, your breath catching in your throat in an ugly inhuman sound as you saw the steel-blue eyes that haunted your filthiest, wettest, most vivid fantasies…staring straight at you. 

"I-I-I uhm…" you stammered, your voice returning to your normal tone, losing your footing despite being completely stationary. "I was talking to these knuckleheads, s-sorry Tom." You took a steadying breath. "As you were." You mentally smacked yourself as your 'programmer BossLady' voice came out again, your eyes widening in complete shock as he wordlessly followed your instructions and resumed to look down at the floor. 

"Confirmed," Bryan stage whispered to you and Denise. "He's a sub, and we've been silently submitting to Y/N all this time. I mean…Madam." You groaned at his words. 

"You two," you hissed at them. "Let me fucking tell you, I am the farthest thing from a madam. Or a goddess or whatever it was that he called me." You inwardly shuddered at the memory, although if you were being honest it wasn't from shock or disgust. It was from arousal. "My life is unbelievably, annoyingly, dreadfully…vanilla."

Denise giggled. "But you know the jargon? Uh huh. Sure, boss."

You rolled your eyes at her. "Bitch please, I read Fifty Shades. The smut. The toe-curling filth found in the wonder that is Kindle Unlimited. The fanfiction written about that fine-ass man on his knees over there," you whispered the last part in a hiss. "But I digress. The point is that my brain may be filthy, and it may be filled with very vivid fantasies of that very same man on his knees right now, but real life Y/N? Yeah. No."

"Maybe no man ever rose to the challenge," Bryan teased. "You think Hiddlebum would?" 

"That's not a direction my brain ever wants to go unless I'm already in bed, in my birthday suit, legs spread, with a toy in my hand," you shot back without missing a beat. "As for no man ever rising to the challenge?" You leaned in close to their ears. "I can't even get a guy to go down on me because every guy I ever dated or even just fucked said they never do it with anyone because it tastes weird. And don't get me started on the ones that practically bolt out of my hotel room naked when I ask them to put a hand on my throat."

"Maybe you're just talking to the wrong boys, Y/N." You turned around to see that Chris had joined your conversation with a smug look on his face. "You have to start talking to men. Perhaps then your luck will turn."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop on conversations that don't have shit to do with you, Hemsy?" you shot back with an amused smile. You couldn't ever really be mad at the guy who resembled a walking talking 6'4 teddy bear. It was physically impossible. "Good morning."

"Good morning, indeed," he chuckled, turning his attention to the Sakaaran set. "Beautiful posture there, Tom! Absolutely exquisite," he hollered, causing the British man to let out several chuckles.

"Ehehehehe, sod off, Chris." He looked up from his position, most likely intending to glare at Chris, but instead his eyes met yours, and you felt this inexplicable pull towards him. No. Wait. Back up a bit. You felt as if there was this inexplicable force pulling him towards you. You tilted your head the slightest bit, as if questioning him and his tethering gaze, your eyes once again widening in total shock as he responded with turning his head towards the floor in a bow once again.

"Erm…what the fuck was that?" Chris asked, poking your shoulder repeatedly. "It's like you broke him, tiny terror." 

"Me?? Broke him??" you hissed as you turned around to glare at the towering Australian. "I'm the one who's fifty shades of fucking confused here!" 

"You may be, but I've never seen him fold for a woman like that in the entire time I've known him. With a tilt of your head, no less. No wonder your people call you 'madam'. Maybe I should call you that--"

"Don't even fucking think about it, Hemsworth." Your tone from earlier had returned, the one you tried to keep locked away since you gave your resignation letter to your final day job two years ago. A tone you'd once been confused as to why it could cause all those bravado-filled middle-aged men to fold and actually listen to you, well now you had an inkling. 

The tone was domineering. It allowed no room for counter-arguments; perhaps you were right about the words that you were uttering, but also perhaps you weren't, but your tone didn't demand their subservience, it just took. And while it worked in conference rooms and face offs with no less than senior management of the client companies you'd dealt with, never once did you think to use it in the bedroom.

You never realized it was an option.

"Where's Taika?" you asked after taking a few deep breaths to recenter your brain. This was gonna be one of those days, the type that you'd never forget even when you were an octogenarian and you'd  have trouble remembering if you've even eaten for the day. "I have to tell him we can't have the scene set up like this." 

"Why not, lil mayhem?" You turned and once again saw the ridiculous gray CGI spandex that Taika was decked out in, but thankfully now without the gigantic Korg head so at least you were no longer confused where you should be staring. 

"Because people are gonna take one look at him and they're gonna know," you explained, pointing towards the set at the kneeling Loki. 

The director looked at you, clearly confused. "Know what?" 

"Ohh this will be delicious," Denise all but moaned. "Watch this," she told Taika as she turned back to you. "Tell him to straighten his back." 

"This feels like I'm exploiting him somehow, you do it." 

"He's not gonna listen to me, I don't have the voice," she teased back, and then sighed. "The sooner you convince Taika, the sooner we can fix the scene." 

"Ugh, fine. Taika? Look at Tom." You took another breath, finding that voice once again in no time. "Straighten your back." Once again, your breath caught in your throat with a hideous sound as you watched him wordlessly follow your instructions. "That's what I mean," you addressed Taika once more. "People take one look at that scene, see his posture and--"

"Apologies, goddess." 

It felt like your spine had been replaced with pure ice as you watched Taika's jaw go slack, heard Chris choking on air in the background, and your two fellow set designers and friends start giggling once more as soon as the soft-spoken words were uttered from the mouth of one Thomas William Hiddleston.

"What did you call me??" 

"Ohh I think we know what he called you. Goddess," Taika taunted. "Right then, we need to get this man off his knees," he said, turning to the crew and giving them instructions to reset the scene.

"So what? We're gonna have him stand now?" one of the assistant producers sneered. "Way to take us out of the moment, Y/L/N. Fucking buzzkill," she muttered.

"I'm not telling you to make him stand, I'm just telling you to get him off his knees," you countered. "It's not my fault that your comprehension's lacking." 

The assistant started to make a motion towards you as if you bitch slap you, but the director stood in her way. "Don't even think about it. That's a one way ticket to Tom's shit list if you lay a hand on her," he threatened, and you watched as the AP looked over to the corner of the set with wide eyes. When you followed her gaze, your eyes widened as well at the sight of Tom with a borderline murderous look in his eyes. 

"Don't," he said simply. The AP backed off, muttering something about favoritism that you couldn't quite catch. 

"Alright then, lil mayhem, this is your idea. Run the show." You stared at Taika with incredulity. "You're the one who wants him off his knees? You get him off his knees. Call the shots."

You scrambled for ideas. "A chair?"

"Sorry, madam, we got nothing in props that could even look like it belongs in Sakaar. And I already know what you're gonna say, the Sakaaran standards are literally on the floor but still. A proper looking dining table chair will not fit the vibe." 

You glared at Bryan. "Then get me a cement block, a wooden platform. A fucking concrete slab. Anything, just get this man off his knees." You turned back to face Taika. "Legally, who can I yell at here without an HR violation?"

"Just those two." He pointed at your set designers. "You are their superior after all." 

You turned back to the dawdling set designers, staring at the scene laid out before them with amused looks on their faces. "Find me something." They kept staring. "NOW!!" They ran off to props like headless chickens, making both Chris and Taika break out in chuckles.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, tiny terror," the giant Australian told you before proceeding to pat you on the head like a ferocious and yet annoyingly fluffy guard dog. "Hey Tom you can get off your knees now, you kinky little shit!" he hollered, chuckling. After a few moments he started again. "Ah, shit, Y/N be a dear? Seems he won't listen to anyone but you when he's like this." 

You groaned. "For fuck's sake," you murmured before taking another deep breath, slipping into your natural voice once more. "Stand up." The next moments felt like a sucker punch to your entire system as he once again followed your instructions, afterward stealing a glance at your direction with the softest look in his eyes and a sweet smile that left you completely breathless.

What was he up to? Why was he acting like this?

Fifteen minutes later, Bryan and Denise came rushing back in with a platform box painted a distressed teal setting it down on the ground near the now standing Tom.

The next 13 hours of the day were comparatively less eventful than the start of your day. Rearranging sets, reviewing shots for possible continuity errors that you were sure Twitter would crucify you all for if they caught wind of it, and the occasional bitchy stare down with that PA from earlier this morning who tried to smack you for daring to mock her comprehension skills.

"Let's call it for the day, everybody!" Taika hollered from his director chair, now thankfully wearing more normal clothes and not that spandex CGI suit. "I'll see you in twelve hours. Get some sleep, don't go out drinking because if you come to set tomorrow hung over I will have your head." Everyone murmured their assent as they moved about, wrapping up their tasks for the day, and he turned to you. "Lil mayhem, try to get some tonight. I'm saying this as a friend. You're wound up." 

"Honestly, T, it's just the whole 'she's a domme' thing from earlier. Really threw me in for a loop. I should be fine after some sleep," you reassured him, making sure to pick up a copy of tomorrow's call sheet to do some prep work before you eventually succumb to the sweet lonely embrace of solitary slumber in your hotel room. "Go, T. I can lock up tonight. FaceTime your kids, tell them you love them, read them a bedtime story. I'm sure they miss their dad." 

He took a few moments before giving you an exaggerated sigh and tossing you the keys. "You drive a hard bargain, Y/L/N." He walked over to you, ruffling your hair. "You're the best." 

"I know I know. Go. I'll do a quick sweep, make sure nobody gets locked in here for the night and we get here with someone banging on the door screaming 'let me out let me out'." You grabbed the clipboard containing a checklist of the areas you were to double check on before locking up and proceeded to glance over each area of the set. 

Just as you were wrapping up your check of the cast trailers, a voice in the relative darkness startled you. "Miss Y/L/N." You straightened your posture and started fumbling in your pocket for something, anything to defend yourself with. Then you remembered the keys, so you quickly started threading each key in between your fingers, when you felt two large hands gently grasp your shoulders. "Shh shh, it's alright. It's just me. You're safe."

You let out the heaving breath you were holding, recognizing the voice immediately. "Tom," you breathed out, the fear leaving your body, but the tension remaining. "Fucking hell I was about to stab you." You felt your spine go frigid as you felt him pressing tender kisses to the top of your head as his hand traveled down your arm to deftly remove the keys from between your fingers. 

"I didn't mean to startle you," he whispered into your hair, his hand once again traveling up your arm and resumed its place on your shoulder. "I simply wanted to ensure you were safe. I didn't see you come out of the studio." He moved his head to press a kiss to your temple. "I apologize, goddess."

There was that name again, stealing all the breath from your lungs and making you question so much about you. About him. But mostly it made you question…"Why do you keep calling me that?" 

His hand traveled up to lightly grasp your chin, urging you to turn your head and look up at him. "Because that's what I call you," he answered simply, bringing his face much closer to yours. Once he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips, he whispered, "When I dream of you." 

Instead of saying anything, you opted to bring your hand up to the back of his neck, threading your fingers through his short dark blond curls and gently pulling him down towards you, touching your lips to his briefly in a tentative, fleeting kiss. This led to him quickly turning you to face him, lifting you by the backs of your thighs, and backing you into the side of the nearest trailer. 

When he had you securely trapped between him and the trailer, he brought his hand up to cup your face, while the other roamed from your thigh and up the side of your body. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his thumb lightly graze the side of your breast. 

Just as he was about to lean in to kiss you, you breathed out, "Wait." He stopped immediately, his eyes quickly becoming apologetic. "I-I don't know…" you stammered, trying to find your words, but quickly realizing that the most honest words you had at the moment were, "I don't know how to be what you want. I don't know anything--" 

A smile of relief began to spread across his face. "It's alright." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, as if to reassure you. "I simply want you, Y/N. As you are." A soft kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "I want to make you happy." A kiss to the skin below your ear, before placing his hand lightly around your throat, sending a thrill throughout your entire body, and then whispering, "I want to satisfy you." 

"And what do you get out of this?" you breathed out. "Seems to me I'm the only one benefiting from this, that's not right." 

"Me? That's easy," he murmured against your skin as he rolled his hips into yours, causing you to let out an obscene moan that echoed through the dark empty halls of the studio. "I get you." 

This was an unusual morning. Unusual in the sense that this time, you were not woken up by the scandalous sound of your alarm, rather you'd awoken in this blissful, sated state. Your mind raced through the memories from last night, how you'd practically raced to your hotel room hand in hand with Tom after you'd locked up in the studio. 

The almost reverent way he stripped you of your clothing, pausing to press kisses to every new area of skin exposed to him, how he already had you a writhing mess before he even took off your panties. How he brought you and pushed you well past the point of complete ecstasy with his fingers and his mouth multiple times before he even made love to you.

Repeatedly.

You bit your lip as the memories came at you in vivid detail, pushing yourself off of your bed to get ready for the day ahead. Before you could even begin to inch yourself out of the bed, an arm tightened around your waist, pulling your naked body against a broad, toned, equally naked form. 

A smile found its way to your face with no effort at all as you placed your hand over the arm wrapped around you, your fingertips tracing the length of the forearm, causing him to stir and press his body even closer to yours. A hybrid between a giggle and a moan escaped your lips as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hum of satisfaction vibrating throughout your body. 

He moved his kisses across your shoulder, pausing for a good few moments on the juncture of your shoulder and your neck before moving up to your ear and whispering in the most delicious sleep-laden voice, "Good morning, goddess." 

A/N: Please don't crucify me for the non-smutty implied smut, I am babie. But the idea refused to leave my head so I had to write it.

This insanity was based off of this post because I'm gonna be honest, my brain went places when I saw those pictures. AND THE GIF

Here's a bonus gif for those who read until the end:

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting

It Was Just Like A Movie

Pairing: Actor!Joaquin Torres x Fem!Actress!Reader

Summary: You were each other’s Co-stars and bestest friends. But, you loved loved him. He loved loved you, as well. What was the problem? Everyone knew this except the two of you.

Warnings: Actors!AU, Best friends to Lovers, Cursing, Mentions of Stalking by fans, Talks about feet (not in a gross way!), small foot injury, Pining, So much Fluff, Slight Angst, Yearning, Drinking, These two are oblivious dumbasses, Kissing, heavily inspired by my babies tom and zendaya and their adorable interviews during no way home press tour . This one is really long. There will be a part two, hehe.

AN: i was rewatching all the tz interviews and i could only think about joaquin. enjoy. That Paris interview in this is word for word, bar for bar, taken from tom and z’s interview. So full credits to them. PS: assume the movie they are doing press for is something like We Live In Time.

If someone asked you, 'What's the best part of being an actor?' you would immediately respond with 'Getting to know Joaquin Torres'. You were forever grateful for getting cast in that Netflix show 3 years ago because that show introduced you to the silliest and prettiest sweetest boy in this whole world.

By the time the show was over, both of you were attached to the hip. Everyone would keep insisting that the two of you would end up together but to protect your friendship, you turned a blind eye to them. Worst part of it all were the fans. You loved them, truly. But the endless edits, messages and tweets that they would make about the two of you was something that always gave you goosebumps- out of fear or out of excitement, or maybe both. They even had a whole hashtag for your 'ship' name. It was terrifying. You did not want Joaquin to be weirded out and to distance himself from you, like it happens to some in the industry after the fans became more invasive.

It escalated when some fans would stalk you both and psychoanalyse your friendship. They would post sneaky pictures of you two hanging out and you freaked out over it every time. You were not expecting Joaquin to react with the same air of nonchalance. As if this wasn't making your heart fall down to your stomach. As if it wouldn't break you if he walked away. He was your rock, your family, in this fucked up industry. The two of you have been through everything together. Even your families were a big joint family at this point. So yeah, you were afraid of losing your best friend- your soulmate -over some stupid fan theories.

You chose to lock your feelings far away and told yourself to be normal around him. But how could you do that when he was so charming and so damn clingy? His day wasn't complete without giving you a thousand hugs and cuddles per day. Your stomach erupted in butterflies every single time. You swore that the hugs were longer and longer each day and they left you feeling giddy throughout the day.

He was a professional yapper so how could you be normal around him when he had to tell you every single detail from his day. If it wasn't in person, then it was over a call and if it wasn't over a call, then your phone would blow up with his texts and audio messages all day long. His talkative nature was a blessing for you because 1. you were an amazing listener and an introvert and 2. you loved listening to his smooth, slightly husky, low pitched voice. It was like music to your ears and you would never admit to his face that you loved being the only person he would tell all these details to. Even if your peers teased you every time they saw Joaquin was calling you, you would never miss his call.

How could you be normal around him when his beautiful eyes would look at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky? It was probably the perpetual look of wonder in his eyes because he was so passionate about everything he did. But you swore he looked at you with a different twinkle in his eyes. Or maybe it was your poor heart's wishful thinking.

Another reason why you couldn't be normal around Joaquin Torres was his endless charm and sweet nature, especially towards you and especially during interviews. He was either a really smooth fucker or he was putting up a show for everyone because boy was he ten times more clingy and attentive in front of the cameras. He would flirt with you. It was almost like he wanted to give the fans some content to talk about. He would make a joke, lean closer to you or flirt with you and your entire face would be warm which you'd try to cover up with overly dramatic laughter.

You were sure of one thing, Joaquin Torres would be the cause of your death (biggest heartbreak) one day.

-

The two of you had been cast in a new romantic-drama and were currently on the press tour for the movie.

Currently, you were in Paris and the two of you were sitting in a room with a single seat in the middle and a screen in front of it. The seat was small. Like, your-thighs-would-be-touching-Joaquin's- small. You saw that and damn near fainted. You don't think you could handle sitting so close to him.

So, here you were, sitting extremely close to Joaquin, trying to focus on the questions appearing on the screen before you. You kept your hands in lap and tried to lean away from him. But he would have none of that and leaned even closer to you. You have never wanted to smack him in the head more than you did in this moment.

You swallowed the butterflies that had crawled up your throat and clenched your fists before reading out the question. "What do you have in common with your characters?", you read aloud and turned to face him.

He was wearing a lovely white collared shirt with diamond shaped lines on it, which framed his broad shoulders nicely, paired with black straight pants and his favorite golden necklace. His curls were gelled back to look perfectly quaffed. Oh yeah, did you mention that every time he wore jewelry you wanted to pull him closer by his necklace, grab his face and kiss him stupid? Yeah.

He looked at you and observed your face for a second before you broke off his stare. You looked so pretty, he thought.

"What do you have in common with your characters? Answer it!", you smiled at him and gestured at the screen with your hand.

Joaquin blinked before turning his attention back to the screen.

"Uh- he is- devilishly handsome-", he began while clapping his right fist against the palm of his left hand.

You let out a laugh and nudged him.

"He is incredibly brave, charming, charismatic!", he listed off with a smile in his voice.

"We're played by the same person-", you added in while giggling.

He continued his actions. "-we're played by the same person, funny!", he finished smugly. You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder.

Before you could say anything he continued, "Yours is- she's a weirdo-", he began counting off on his fingers and you burst out in giggles and leaned against him.

"She's a loser! She is...sassy!", he counted off in a teasing manner.

You chuckled and held his hands to stop him. "Shut up! Next question!"

What you didn't notice, was the way he looked at you when you laughed. Like there was nobody else in the room. Like his entire heart was pouring out of his eyes. Like he wanted to freeze time in this moment so that you could hold his hand a little longer.

-

Joaquin Torres never knew he needed a guardian angel. He thought he was doing just fine in his life. Then, he got cast in a Netflix show and he met you. The day that he met you, he was sure his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were a shy thing, never speaking to anyone unless spoken to, respectful and oh so sweet. Always ready to help people out. And oh, you looked like an angel. Your eyes were always shining so bright- as if you held a thousand stars in them. You had the most breathtaking smile that made his lungs give out. He knew he was goner the moment you flashed him that smile.

It didn't take time for Joaquin to fall for you and for you to become his best friend. Although, every time you called him that, it felt like someone had stabbed him straight through the heart but he steadied himself and stomped on his feelings. Because he valued your presence in his life more than he valued his feelings for you. If you wanted to be his friend, then that's what he was going to be. A good friend, a loyal friend, as long as you wanted.

Joaquin thought you were his guardian angel because he liked himself better when he was with you and because you were there to hold him when nobody was. He learned to be kinder to himself and others because of you. You validated his feelings and lifted him up whenever he faced any failure. He wanted to be as graceful as you are. He was in love with your generosity, your advocacy for the right things and your ability to feel and express every emotion at the fullest. He could write novels and poems for and on you. He loved you. Completely.

The two of you were always attached by the hip. Hanging out after filming or hanging out at each other's houses was soon a part of your routines. He couldn't go without talking to you for even a day. It was his most favorite thing in the whole world because you were such a good listener. Always enthusiastic about his stories and lending him a shoulder to lean on. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle, either. Joaquin was naturally a clingy person. He loved people and he loved being close to his loved ones but he especially loved being clingy with you. The two of you fit like puzzle pieces and your body would automatically make space for him even if you weren't big on physical touch. Holding your hands, hugging you, cuddling you while he slept, leaning against you during interviews and the lingering hugs when you were separated for a long time. He wanted to hold you close and melt in your soft, loving arms forever. He didn't give a damn about anybody watching the two of you or your peers teasing you both.

He knew it was serious for him the day he brought you home to meet his mom, grandmother and sister. And it was the best decision he ever took in his life because they adored you like you were their own. Every time you were over at his house, the three of them would give Joaquin knowing looks but he told them not to think much about it because you didn't like him like that. To make matters worse, your family had basically adopted him and it made him dizzy at how domestic all of it looked like.

One day, you showed him what the fans had been talking about the two of you. You showed him the countless edits, tweets, texts and posts and he was shocked. Because as he was looking through those edits, he thought- was he always this obvious? And how could you not see that? But, he did it unknowingly because he was just that comfortable with you. It was making him overwhelmed. He could see that you were panicking. You had told him that you don't want this to ruin your friendship and he promised you that it wouldn't. His heart was in a million pieces but he couldn't bear to see you sad. So he did what he did best- act cool and unbothered about it. Every time he came across something on his social media accounts, he just ignored it. Acted like he didn't see any of it. Just to keep himself sane.

And then some fans started stalking the two of you every time you were together and that pissed him off. Joaquin wasn't one to get ticked off easily. But when it came to your safety, he was lethal. He saw the sneaky pictures some fans had taken of the two of you and his first thought was to protect you. So, he subtly appointed security that would take care of the both of you and kept checking on you every day. Joaquin continued to act coolly as if nothing happened only for your sake and because if he didn't, he was going to end up doing something embarrassing and drive you away from him. And he wasn't sure if his vulnerable heart could handle that. You were his guardian angel, he was better with you and intended to keep it that way forever.

-

The two of you were back in the States and you had an interview with IMDB today. You and Joaquin were wearing matching outfits. He was wearing a satin shirt that was dusky in colour with some dark brown pants. His hair was perfectly quaffed again and he was wearing that goddamn golden necklace, again. You were matching him in a cute dress with ruffles on the bottom, it was also dusky in color and had a colorful flower embroidery on the chest. You paired it with maroon heels and some golden half-hoop earrings with your hair styled in a barbie-like high ponytail.

The two of you had clicked loads of pictures before leaving for the interview and he had posted a selfie of you two on his Instagram story- you were pressing your cheeks to each other and cheesing at the camera. He had captioned it 'twinning with da bestie' and had tagged you in it.

Your cheeks were red and your heart was in pain at the same time. You didn't dare to open your Instagram the whole day.

"So, I saw the trailer and it really broke my heart. They're so sweet to each other. The two of you are best friends in real life, how was it like acting like a married couple and how did you prepare for the emotional scenes? Did it feel personal?", the interviewer asked the two of you.

You let out a deep sigh and Joaquin 'oof'ed.

"Wow, that's a pretty deep question..", Joaquin trailed off and chuckled weakly.

It was really difficult. Both of you knew how emotionally taxing it was to film this movie and you were glad that you had each other.

"Yeah, oh man, there were days where it felt like...i had no tears left to cry and there were days where my eyes were swollen from crying so much", you admitted.

Joaquin nodded in agreement.

"I remember requesting for a 15 minute break after this particularly rough scene. She was completely spent. Her face was red from crying, her throat was scratchy because we were shouting at each other, and her eyes were completely bloodshot. At one point i just stopped and took a pause because it was hurting me to watch her get so worked up. We almost never fight, and after a point, it felt like we were actually fighting, you know?", Joaquin explained.

You turned to look at him in awe. "Wait, I thought.. that was just a cut...I don't remember any of that...", you trailed off, surprised. You were truly out of it that day. All the screaming, crying, had gotten to you and you had just broken down mid scene. Watching Joaquin get so angry and raise his voice at you had hurt you for real. You thought a break was announced because the director asked for it. You had no idea Joaquin requested it for you? Your stomach felt like it was doing jumping jacks.

Joaquin turned to look at you fondly. "Yeah, you were so immersed into the scene, (nickname), that you didn't realise you were hyperventilating. I could see your hands shaking so I asked for a break and we helped you wind down. She was fucking brilliant in the scene, though", he brought his hand behind your chair to rub your shoulder blades gently and confessed to the interviewer.

Your breath hitched and your eyes filled with tears. He was so attentive and in tune with your emotions, it was painful. You gave him a grateful smile before clearing your throat and sniffled. "What the hell, you're ruining my make-up, 'Quino."

The interviewer smiled and extended a tissue box which Joaquin took in his hands and handed you a tissue. You thanked him softly and wiped your tears and he looked at you with concern. He leaned his head closer to you and whispered, "you okay?", his brown eyes blown wide and something else shining in them.

You looked at him with teary eyes and nodded your head yes. He flashed you a sweet smile and returned the tissue box before sitting up straight. "You see how difficult it was?!", he pointed at you.

All three of you chuckled at that.

"Honestly, I could do this because of him. He was there to catch me when i fell and he offered me support on my toughest days, like he's been doing always", you responded sincerely and patted Joaquin's back gently, "And to answer your question, yes, it definitely felt personal because the fights, the trauma shared by the two of them, was something we would unknowingly carry home. But, this guy would take me to eat ice-cream after filming and that was the highlight of my day", you finished while chuckling.

Joaquin let out a bashful laugh and shook his head. His back felt warm where your hand was still resting on it.

-

After the interview was over, the two of you sat in the van to go back to the hotel you were staying in. This was the last interview of this press tour and you were so glad that it was over, although you would miss working with Joaquin again.

You let out a long, tiring sigh. "Finally we're done for the day, I just wanna crash on my bed right now", you groaned while removing your heels and stretching your toes. Your toes were red and you could feel a shoe bite on the back of your heel.

Joaquin looked at your toes and winced. "You should've carried some flats, (nickname). You wanna stop by the medical store?"

"No, it's alright. I'll treat them at the hotel", you reassured him with a soft smile. He smiled back at you and leaned back in his seat.

You looked away to gently massage your feet and you missed the way Joaquin was looking at you.

He was observing the way your hair fell softly by your shoulders, your soft arms, the way your perfume smelled like something floral that was so addictive that he has to clench his hands together to stop leaning in and taking a sniff. Joaquin clenched his jaw tightly and looked out of the window.

You leaned back in your seat and thought back to his confession today.

“‘Quino?”

He quickly turned his head to look at you and hummed for you to continue.

“Thank you”, you confessed sincerely and gave him a warm smile. His face twisted in confusion. You chuckled quietly.

“For looking after me on set, thank you.”

His face broke out in a radiant smile and ducked his head.

“Oh, come on. That’s my job as your best friend. I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”,he conceded and nudged you lightly.

You gave him a tentative smile. Your heart twisted painfully at the word ‘best friend’. “Yeah, I know. Right back at you.”

The two of continued to stare at each other intently before you cleared your throat.

Joaquin looked away, his cheeks dusted with pink, but you were too busy hiding your own warm cheeks to notice that.

“Uh- you’re coming to the wrap party, right?”

You made a face. This was the fifth wrap party you’ve had since you finished filming the movie. You were tired and you just wanted a vacation.

“No. Don’t make that face, (Name). You can’t ditch me like that!”, Joaquin chided you.

You rolled your eyes.

“Joaquin. This is the fifth party. What is so different about this one? I’m so tired please leave me alone”, you whined, dragging out the ‘e’.

He gaped at you. “Dude. You literally promised me that you were attending. I cancelled all my plans for you!”

“Oh, shut up. You’re the biggest social butterfly alive, you’ll be fine without me”, you waved him off.

A slight hurt look crossed his eyes. “Okay, no. That’s not true. And, it’s your party too! You’re literally the lead of the film.”

You side eyed him and ignored the ‘lead’ comment. “You always end up yapping to everyone in the room and I’m sitting in a corner with a drink clutched in my hands, waiting for you to come back. Hell no, I’m not going.”

His face softened. He knew you hated these parties and only attended for his sake. He felt bad that you felt neglected by him.

“Hey, no. I’m sorry. I’ll stick by you, I promise. Come with me?”, he widened his eyes and pouted at you. You don’t even think he was making that face knowingly.

“You’ll sit by me and inform me about wherever you’re going?”

He nodded.

“And you’ll let me leave the moment I tell you that I wanna go home?”

He nodded twice.

“And you won’t force me to dance?”

He made a face before begrudgingly nodding his head yes.

Joaquin loved dancing. And he loved dancing with you even more. But you only danced when the two of you were alone and he tried his best to get you on the dance floor with him.

You observed him for a second and his jutted out his bottom lip before taking your hand in both of his. You rolled your eyes. “Okay.”

Joaquin’s eyes widened. “Really?!”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yes, dumbass.”

He flashed you his gorgeous smile before holding your chin in his hand. He titled your face slightly and gave you a soft kiss on your cheek, before quickly pulling away.

You froze.

Did he just…kiss you?? Joaquin Torres kissed you. The man that you were stupidly in love with for the past 3 years…..just kissed you. And he was acting like nothing happened. What the fuck.

If you had the ability to listen to people’s heartbeats, you would’ve heard that Joaquin’s heart was beating so fast that you’d think he was going to pass out. Blood rushed to his face and his ears and he was so sure that his entire face was the same shade as a tomato.

You swallowed thickly and luckily you didn’t have to say anything further as the van approached your hotel.

You hastily put on your heels before clearing your throat. Unfortunately for your current situation, your rooms were on the same floor. So you had to wait for him and behave normally.

Joaquin turned to look at you with longing in his eyes. The two of you got out of the car and you stumbled a little because of your sore feet. Joaquin quickly stood next to you and steadied you with his hands on your shoulders. People were definitely going to talk but you were too distracted to think about all that right now.

“Careful. Here, I’ll help”, he offered you gently and helped you walk. You took a few steps further and let out a series of winces. It hurt. The skin of your heel was completely red and agitated.

Joaquin stopped immediately. “Alright, remove those and give ‘em to me”, he huffed out.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re joking? You’re gonna make me walk on this nasty concrete?”

He looked at you and raised his eyebrows. “Should I carry you, then?”, he sassed back.

You shot him an irritated look. As you were about to bend down to remove your heels, he dropped down to crouch by your feet and carefully, oh so gently, removed the right heel before slowly guiding your foot to… are those his shoes?

"Wait-Joaquin, what are you doing?! How are you going to wal-"

"Just shut up and wear them, babe." Babe?!

Before you could even have a reaction to that, he had slipped on his shoes on your feet and he stood up, holding both of your heels in one of his hands. You looked at him, standing next to you in his sock-clad feet, not caring about how many people would notice that. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to help you walk and both of you went to the reception to collect your key cards.

Joaquin walked you to your room and patiently waited for you to unlock it. You scanned the key card and opened door. As soon as you entered your room, you removed his shoes while gesturing at him to wear them and took your heels back from him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he wore his shoes and awkwardly stood outside the door, his hands deep in his pockets.

You cleared your throat and broke the silence. "Well, goodnight, Joaquin. I'll...see you at the party." A look of hurt flickered across his eyes but he blinked it away quickly and nodded his head.

“Okay. Night, (Name)”, he spoke quietly, as if his voice was stuck in his throat. You were so close, yet you were suddenly so far.

You gave him a half-smile before slowly closing the door.

Joaquin waited outside your door for while and felt a dull ache in his chest. He couldn’t believe that he had fucked up so bad. What was he thinking? Kissing you like that? And- calling you babe?! He shut his eyes in embarrassment and clenched his hand into a fist. His throat was choked up with unshed tears and it made him feel extremely uncomfortable so he rushed to his room and decided to sleep over it.

You, on the other hand, were confused between crying or laughing because not only had Joaquin kissed you on the cheek but he had called you babe? Maybe he was just being friendly. He was clingy after all. But...no it can't be. He can't be interested in you like that.

So, you decided on crying. Your chest hurt with longing. He was so close yet so far. And you weren't sure if you were ready to face him again tomorrow.

-

Next morning, you woke up feeling worse. You were anxious and restless and you were dreading going out of your room. So you called up your manager and told her that you'd be having your breakfast in your room today and that they should go ahead. She asked you what should they tell Joaquin and you paused. You were so close that both of your teams knew to keep you posted about each other when you were working together. You just told her that you will handle that on your own. And approximately fifteen minutes later, your phone lit up with text notifications.

Quino🦁: why are u not at breakfast?

You sighed before typing out a response that would convince him.

You: i just need to be alone for sometime

Quino🦁: are you okay? U want me to come over?

You: No..u know i need to wind down before going to a party...ill be fine dw 👍

Quino🦁: Ok.. Text me if u need anything, (Nickname)

You: yes i will, torres

Your phone pinged again and it was another text from Joaquin. He had sent a selfie of him holding up his plate in front of the camera and he was pouting into the camera with the caption 'miss u'. You let out a giggle. "So stupid..", you trailed off with a smile on your face. You responded with an 'aww' and smiled at the photo before remembering whatever happened the night before. You groaned and fell back into the pillows before getting up and finally starting your day. The party would start in the evening and before that you had to do a small photoshoot for a brand collaboration and this meant that thankfully, you were busy for the whole day before you had to face Joaquin again.

Joaquin couldn't help but feel uneasy throughout the day. This was the longest he’d gone without talking to you. From the moment he didn't see you at breakfast, he knew something was up but he also knew that you needed your space sometimes so he let you be. But then he overheard your manager talk about a photoshoot and his day just got worse. The two of you departed awkwardly last night and now he couldn't see you until the evening. He was starting to get antsy. Joaquin thought of shooting you a text but decided against it, not wanting to disturb you. So he waited until you would see him later this evening.

-

Finally, it was evening and it was time for the party. You were going to the party straight from your photoshoot so you did your make up and outfit at the set itself. You had decided to wear a cute, sleeveless red dress and the sleeves thinned at the back into straps, with a big light pink bow joining them at the waist, paired with light-pink box heels that wouldn't agitate your feet further. Your hair was sleeked back into a bun with a few strands of hair curled at the front, with minimal makeup.

In your rush, you had forgotten to text Joaquin and as you were about to leave the set, you collided with a body. You stumbled back before an arm shot out to catch you by your waist.

“Shit-‘Quino?”, you asked, your heart beating faster because of the scare of almost falling on the hard concrete and because it was Joaquin who had saved you from falling. “What are you doing here?”

Joaquin was too busy admiring you to answer your question. You looked so pretty. Like a doll. His mouth was open slightly as he carefully took in your features.

“Hello? Joaquin?”, you waved a hand in front of his face. He snapped out of his stupor and pulled you up carefully. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his curls.

“Uh- you weren’t answering my texts…got a lil worried and thought I’d come over to check on you”, he admitted in a low voice and scratched the back of his head.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I was running late so I decided to get ready here at the set itself. Didn’t get a chance to check my phone”, you responded sheepishly.

It was then you finally got a good look at him. He was wearing a white tee inside a black jacket and he had paired it with some black pants. His hair was free of any product so his curls were more pronounced. And he was wearing his glasses. You loved it when he wore his glasses because they made him look even more prettier. He forgot them way too often for someone who couldn’t see without them.

“You’re finally wearing your glasses!”, you smiled at him and pointed a finger towards his glasses.

His face broke out in a smile.

“You know I can’t see properly at night. Forget about me though, you…you look like a Barbie, (Nickname)”, his voice took on a soft, velvety tone.

Your cheeks felt warm and you ducked your head.

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious! Be ready ‘cus you’re gonna get compliment after compliment the whooooole night!”

You shoved his shoulder and laughed. “Alright, that’s enough. We’re getting late, let’s move!”

Both of you were just glad that everything was normal in between you two now. The two of you sat in the car and left for the venue. The car ride was thankfully uneventful aa the two of you scrolled through your phones and shared memes. The car finally reached the venue and you got out of it with Joaquin’s help. He offered you his arm and you settled your hand in the crook of his arm.

The party had a small photo call with a carpet. One of the producers had thrown the party so there were at-least 20 paparazzis present and they were shouting and yelling at you two for a picture. You and Joaquin clicked a few pictures on the carpet and entered the venue.

The moment you entered the venue, you saw Sam Wilson- a mutual friend of you two and a fellow actor. He was especially fond of you and Joaquin- he was like your surrogate father. He had discovered Joaquin and that’s how you know each other. Over time, the three of you got so close that you had a fixed hang out at the end of every month/week. Sam spotted the two of you and came over to give you both a bear hug.

“My movie stars!”, Sam said gleefully and hugged you two tightly.

You giggled and hugged him back. “Hi, Sammy!”

“Hey, man”, Joaquin chuckled and patted Sam’s back.

Sam pulled back and narrowed his eyes at you two. “Y’all are late. The time was 4pm not 5pm. A whole hour late!”

Joaquin looked at you smugly and crossed his arms.

You flashed him a sheepish smile. “Uh- I was busy with a photoshoot so I was running a little late. Sorry!”

Sam squinted his eyes at you and let out a big laugh. “Ah, You’re forgiven. This is your party anyways. Come on, everyone’s waiting for you!” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and dragged the two of you in the packed room. “And I’ve got a surprise for you”, Sam nudged you and diverted your attention towards the bar.

And the first person you spotted was- “Bucky!”, you took off towards him to give him a big hug.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was another fellow actor and Sam’s best friend (you lowkey believed they were in love with each other.) Sam randomly introduced the two of you to Bucky and you quickly became friends. He was one of the finest actors you'd ever seen onscreen but his off camera persona was like a complete 180 degrees. He connected with you more than Joaquin because he thought Joaquin was way too much for him. (you believed that he was actually fond of Joaquin but he loved to bully him for fun because Joaquin was intimidated by him.)

Bucky was a huge grump and found it difficult to be friends with people because of his social anxiety. How did him and Sam become friends? You have no idea. But it seemed like the only people he put up with were you and Sam. And he had a major case of the Resting Bitch Face so people were afraid to approach him. But once they got past his initial awkwardness and intense stares, he was really sweet and helpful. You absolutely loved talking to him and spending time with him, even though the two of you were completely different than the other. He was a little old fashioned but you loved taking interest in his stories and he adored you for that. He even jokingly called you his daughter once.

Bucky turned around and his face lit up. "Hi, doll", he replied happily and gathered you in his arms. His arms went around your back and he leaned his chin on top of your head.

You broke the hug and held him by the forearms. "How are you? I haven't seen you in three months!", you pouted.

Bucky let out a chuckle. "You were the busy one, Miss worldwide!"

You blushed and slapped his arm gently. "Shut up. It's so good to see you again, I missed you", you lowered your voice, "And I bet Sam did too", you winked at him.

He groaned loudly and lightly covered your face with his palm. "You're annoying as hell, you know that?"

You let out a gleeful laugh and tried to bite his hand. He yelped and took his hand away.

"Oh, and what about you, huh? Pining over your own best friend in front of the whole world?"

You paused and narrowed your eyes at him. "Shut up, James."

Bucky hummed sarcastically and leaned back against the bar counter. "You're telling me to shut up right now but you're gonna come back and cry to me about your silly little crush."

You ducked your head and frowned.

Bucky saw this nudged you gently.

“Hey, why don’t you just tell him?”

You whipped your head up and widened your eyes at him. “No way. Why would I ever tell him? It’s gonna ruin-”

“-your friendship, I know. But you’re the smartest person I know, doll. Are you sure he doesn’t love you back?”

You furrowed your eyebrows and opened and closed your mouth like a fish. There’s no way Joaquin returned your feelings, right? But…no. There’s just no way.

In the distance, Joaquin was watching the entire exchange with a longing and adoring look in his eyes. He didn't notice Sam look at him and shake his head in disbelief.

"Man, the whole room can see you drooling right now. Just tell her how you feel, Torres", Sam exasperated.

"W-what?", Joaquin sputtered. It's not like Sam didn't know about his feelings for you. But saying it out loud made Joaquin shudder.

Sam scoffed. "What? You think we don't see it? Everybody knows, man. And how do ya'll not see the way you look at each other?"

Joaquin froze and felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. "What do you mean?"

Sam let out a pitiful sigh. "Joaquin, she loves you. It's in her eyes. How did you not notice it?", he explained to Joaquin gently and clapped a hand on Joaquin's shoulder.

Joaquin's ears were ringing. He was going to faint. There's no way that you love him and he didn't notice. There's just no way that you love him.

"No...Sam, she doesn't-", Joaquin's voice cracked. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. He swallowed thickly to get rid of them and shook his head in disagreement.

Sam softened his eyes and gave him a gentle smile. "Man, she looks at you like you saved her life. The other day, she told me she carried a knee brace with her because your knee injury troubled you sometimes and in case you needed one if you forgot to bring yours. She carries extra snacks because you get hungry in between takes. Did you know she learned how to make caldo de pollo from your mom incase you were sick and away from home?"

Joaquin's eyes widened and he snapped his head to look at Sam. You learned his mom's recipe? Of his favourite dish? "What?", he whispered.

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah. You're an idiot, Torres. I could see that, the fans could see that, hell, I am sure your families saw it too. How did you not notice?"

Joaquin's mouth fell open and he turned his head to look at you. You were still chatting with Bucky, your face changing a million expressions per second and oh, you looked like an angel. His angel. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked back at Sam.

"I'm scared, Sam", he said in a meek and quiet voice.

Sam looked at him with sympathy. "I know. But, you gotta tell her someday. I promise you, she's waiting for you to make a move”, he squeezed Joaquin’s shoulder in encouragement.

Joaquin took a deep breath in and tried to keep his tears at bay. He was going to be a mess. And if you walked out, he was going to be an even bigger mess in front of everyone. He weakly nodded his head at Sam and made his way over to you. It’s now or never. And whatever happens, he’d try to hold onto you until he gave up his last breath.

Your back was facing him and Bucky was the first one to notice him approach you. Bucky nudged you and you turned around. Joaquin’s breath stilled. You looked so gorgeous in this lighting. His hands twitched with the want to hold you close.

Bucky cut through the tension first.

“Hi, Torres.”

Joaquin snapped his eyes over to Bucky and cleared his throat.

“H-Hi, Bucky. How are you?”, he held out a hand. Bucky shook his hand firmly and nodded at him, his ocean blue eyes cutting through his skin.

“Good. You did a good job in the movie. And I hope this one didn’t give you much trouble”, Bucky joked.

You punched him in his bicep. “Why don’t you shut up, Barnes. It’s bedtime for you anyways.”

Both of them laughed before Joaquin finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mind if I steal her for a minute?”

Bucky gave you a knowing look. “Yeah, of course. She’s all yours.”

Both of your cheeks tinged with pink.

Joaquin shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for you to join him. You gave a parting look to Bucky and walked away with Joaquin.

Sam joined Bucky at the bar counter and leaned back, watching the two of disappear into the crowd. Bucky leaned his head to the right. “You think it’s happening tonight?”

“Oh definitely”, Sam replied with confidence.

-

Joaquin’s heart was going to explode. His blood pressure must be high as fuck right now. He was this close to fainting. But he pushed that down and gently grabbed your hand in his to guide you through the crowd. Your hand was so soft, he was going to cry. It was getting too crowded and it was making him feel more cornered so he came up with an idea.

“Should we get outta here?”, he suddenly turned around and spoke in your ear.

Your eyes widened and you leaned in close to speak by his ear. “We just came here and you already wanna sneak out of our own party? Are you crazy?!”

He leaned back and gave you a smirk that screamed trouble. Joaquin Torres was the only person in this world who could make you sneak out and break rules. He guided you out of the venue and called for your car. He opened the door and helped you settled down before walking around the car and sitting by the steering wheel. He started the car and drove off before anybody else noticed the two of you.

“Joaquin! Where are we going?”, you asked him while giggling.

He chuckled and glanced at you before turning his attention back to the front. “Be patient, angel. You’ll find out soon.”

Your cheeks heated up. His voice turned so soft and delicate when he called you angel. You wanted to kick your feet and giggle like a little schoolgirl.

You decided to finally ask him. “This is the second time you’ve done that”, you asked him quietly.

Joaquin feigned confusion and furrowed his brows. “Done what?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Quino.”

“I don’t”, he shrugged.

You sighed and shook your head in disbelief. He was a pain in your ass.

You chose not to say anything further and looked out of the window, watching building pass by and that scene soon over took a trail of trees. He sneaked glances at you and worried his bottom lip out of nervousness. He parked the car in a parking lot and walked over to your side. He opened the door and offered you a hand to help you get out of the car.

As soon as you got out, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your bare shoulders. He grabbed your hand in his and walked you over to a nearby dock.

The dock was overlooking the skyline and it was lit up with dim lights which made it look even more peaceful. There was no rush today so you could freely walk without any disturbance. And you had reached the place perfectly on time because you could see the breathtaking sunset behind the skyline. That, combined with the gentle breeze and sound of the water immediately calmed you down.

“Whoa..”, you whispered in awe as you took in the vibrant shades of orange, blue and purple across the sky. Joaquin wasn’t interested in that sunset. His spectacled eyes were completely focused on you. He ran his eyes across your face which was illuminated beautifully by the sunset.

You could feel his stare on the side of your face. Your face heated up. “Stop staring at me like that, Jay.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

He turned you to face him and slowly dragged his fingers down your arm to intertwine your fingers with his. You looked down at your hands and shyly looked up in his eyes.

“Why are we here, Joaquin?”,you whispered.

His eyes turned shiny behind his glasses. The slight breeze tousled his curls, making him look boyish.

“I wanna tell you something. But you gotta promise me that you won’t freak out”, he murmured in a shaky voice.

Your face twisted in concern and you tightened your fingers around his. “What happened?”

You watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

Joaquin took a deep breath in and decided to spill out everything that he had suppressed for the last 3 years.

“Angel, from the moment I saw you…you took my breath away. You came in with your shy, sweet personality and swept me off my feet. Then you smiled at for the first time, and I was a goner. I thought, I’m so lucky to be able to be in your orbit. But then, everytime I thought of telling you all this, you’d remind me that we’re best friends and I’d shut up”, he chuckled weakly.

Your eyes had widened and your vision was blurry because of the tears in your eyes.

“But, it’s been so hard, (nickname). Everytime I look at you I feel like my heart is going to explode. Because I can’t hold you for longer. Because you’re so close, yet so far. Because you were out of reach for me since I’m supposed to be your best friend. You were so worried about what everyone was saying about our closeness that I pushed my feelings back into the deepest part of my heart”, he paused to let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know if I can be your best friend anymore. I don’t know how much longer can I pretend to be okay about all this. I wanna be yours. Completely. You’re the reason why I breathe. You’re the reason why I’m a better human today. You’re the reason why I wake up in the morning. You have no idea how scared I was these past few days because I thought I’d ruined everything. I don’t wanna lose you, angel. But I can’t pretend that I’m not in love with you anymore”, the tears that he was trying so hard to contain, finally flowed down his rosy cheeks.

You were fully frozen to your spot at this point. Was this really happening? You waited for 3 years to hear this from his mouth. Was he really standing here in front of you and confessing all this? Were you really that blind? You didn’t even realise that you were crying.

Joaquin’s face twisted in pain and concern. He released your hands to cup your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry, angel. You’re scaring me.”

You snapped out of your daze and whimpered. You brought up your shaky hands and held his wrists.

“Is this really happening, Quino?”, you whispered to him, your words warbled because of the sob you were trying to contain.

He sniffled and gave you a soft smile.

“I love, love, love you, angel.”

That was all it took for you to break out in a sob and tackle him in a hug. You hugged him by the neck tightly and his arms went around your waist to pull you close to him. He buried his face in your neck and you buried yours in his curls. Painful sobs left your throat and his tears were soaking the skin of your neck.

After a while you pulled apart and cupped his cheeks in your hands. His handsome face had turned red from all the crying and his glasses were smudged. You sniffled and carefully removed his glasses to fold them and put them in his jacket’s pocket. You brought your hands back to his face and brushed his curls away from his forehead. His eyes closed in content and his hands caressed your back gently.

“I’ve been wanting- begging to some higher power- to hear that for the last 3 years”, you confessed in a shaky voice.

His eyes widened. Sam was right.

You gave him a tiny smile. “I’ve been ridiculously in love with you for a really long time, Quino.”

His breath hitched. He was pretty sure his legs had turned into lead. There’s just no way he didn’t catch that. 3 years. Both of you were idiots.

“I was so afraid of telling you. I didn’t wanna lose you. You’re so sweet to me, it hurt. Because I couldn’t tell you that I loved you or kiss you stupid every-time you did something for me. You’re everything to me, Joaquin. Whatever I do, I do it for you. You’re the reason why I keep pushing, my personal sunshine”, you let out a shaky chuckle.

His eyes teared up again but he chuckled. “Both of us are idiots, you know that right?”

You giggled. “I know!”

His expression turned somber again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. We missed so much time”, he whispered in an apologetic manner. You squished his cheeks in your hands and he brought you closer to his chest. Your lips were almost touching.

“Hey, no. We have all the time in the world. I’m just glad you told me. Otherwise I was bound to do something stupid like- grab you by your stupid necklaces and just kiss you”, you replied cheekily.

That brought out a genuine laugh from him.

“What? My neck-” you didn’t give him a chance to respond because you gently pulled him closer by his necklace and crashed your lips to his. You finally did it.

He let out a squeal before kissing you back and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Your lips fit against each other like they were meant to be. He pulled back to suck on your bottom lip before releasing it and kissing you whole on the mouth. You dragged your hand across his chest and buried it in the curls at the nape of his neck. He wasn’t that tall, but tall enough for you to go on your tip toes. Your noses were smushed against each other and you finally broke away for air.

Breathless and cheeks flushed, you leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. He ran a hand across your back and cupped your nape to bring you closer, your noses touching. Both of you wanted to crawl into each other’s skin.

You let out a breathy giggle and pressed kisses to his nose. “I love, love, love, you”, you gave his nose a kiss for every “love” and rubbed your nose against his.

He pulled back and stared at your radiant face before ducking his head to pepper kisses across your face. You squealed and fisted his t shirt in your hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your nose, your eyes, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth and finally placed a loving, gentle kiss on your lips with a beautiful sunset behind you.

“I love you. So much”, he murmured against your lips. You smiled against his lips.

You hummed and looked in his eyes with your arms around his neck. “It’s crazy that the fans were right.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m not happy with how they were treating you”, he growled.

You stared at him in amusement and rubbed his chest soothingly with a hand. “Calm down, Simba. We’ll get back to that later.”

He let out a content sigh and pulled away from you before asking you to go on your tippy toes. You went up and wrapped your arms around his neck again and his went around your waist before he pressed his cheek against yours and closed his eyes in contentment while swaying the two of you gently.

Your cheeks pulled up as your smiled adoringly and pressed yourself closer to him and watched the sunset.

You and Joaquin were meant to be and your life was turning out to be just like a movie.

-

AN: sorry this one was so fucking long!! But as I was writing this, I fell more and more in love with this idea. I love these two so bad and I will write a part two which will be based on their established relationship and on all the interviews that tom and zendaya have done during NWH press.

Please like and reblog!!!

Back because the racist cunts aren't going to keep me down. I won't leave and let them win. I will be continuing to fight for my POC friends, I will continue to educate to the best of my abilities (thank you @almostempty for so your resources), I will continue to be here as a bit of sunlight in the gloom of the world.

And if you're a racist asshole reading my stories or commenting anon hate on POC creator accounts:

kindly fuck off

Now....

Next Chapter of The F*ck-It List dropping tonight.

Happy birthday Pedro. Sorry some of your fans are pathetic bigots.

was reading through a fic on here that felt…off? in its writing, but was otherwise an interesting story. until i got to later in the story and the person forgot to erase the AI prompt response.

i’d literally rather your writing be shitty and barely there than using AI to write. at least then i know you had the heart.

i will never consent to AI being used on my writing nor will i ever use it. good fucking grief.

Game Nights

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Game nights in the tower are unpredictable.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Humor, mentions of violence, the team loves trolling on John, kissing, implied smut, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Silly headcanon set in the same world as Not Exactly a Secret and part of my Tower Shenanigans. I'm not at all sorry. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Game nights typically take place on Saturdays since Fridays are reserved for movie night. Snacks and drinks are a must, but there is a drink maximum, so things don’t get too crazy or emotional. 

Bucky purposely gets John the generic brand when it’s his turn to go snack shopping and tells him to deal with it since the quality is just as good. Everyone else gets the name brand of whatever they want. 

There's a huge board with all of your names and the games listed. The tally marks are in various colors, and sometimes names are erased and replaced with affectionate nicknames. 

When John demanded to know who changed his name to “the man with a punchable face”, Bob was ready to confess, but Bucky took the blame, followed by Yelena, you, and Ava. It was a real “I'm Spartacus!” moment. 

Anyone caught cheating is on clean-up duty. You and Bucky have both cheated on the same night so you could clean up together. 

There are occasional tournaments complete with medals and trophies. The gang insisted that participation ribbons were not allowed, but you found a funny last place trophy that you had to get and everyone agreed.

The gang tries to switch it up between classic games, video games, and children's games to keep things interesting. No matter what you play there is a level of competitiveness. 

You try not to rub it in when you win a game, but you will have a subtle smirk on your face when you catch Bucky’s eye. Alexei, on the other hand, loves to yell, “In your face!” while doing air thrusts and Yelena has come close to banning her dad from game nights because of it.

If it’s girls versus boys, the girls win almost every time. The boys can't figure out how, but it might have something to do with John and Alexei both trying to be the leader, Bucky being done, and Bob just wanting to have fun. 

Bucky picks you for any game that requires a partner or teammate outside of girls versus boys, even if there is someone better suited. He doesn't care because he always wants you by his side. 

Bucky also picks two-player games for the two of you to play while the rest of the gang plays something else. Yelena often does the same thing with Bob. 

Weapons aren't allowed. That rule should've been enforced from the beginning, but John insisted after Bucky threatened to stab him during a game of Uno. 

To be fair, John kept playing Draw 4 cards and everyone knew it was a dick move. Even John knew it. 

Bucky will switch to Russian when he gets frustrated or really into a game. He didn't realize it until Yelena and Alexei replied in Russian. 

Hide-and-Seek is banned. Ava kept phasing out of her hiding spots, and you and Bucky got caught fooling around in the coat closet. 

Truth or Dare is also banned. Too personal with the questions when it was meant to be a fun night and Ava kept daring you and Bucky to kiss each other, which you did.

Bob got nervous the first time you all played Among Us, but Yelena assured him it would be fun. It ended with a chair flipped over, which is considerably tame.

Bob also goes into any shooting game prepared to lose because look who he’s playing with? He still has fun with it.

You once sweet talked Bucky into playing Dance Dance Revolution and he did well, surprising no one. So did Yelena and Ava, and not a single one of them cracked a smile while they danced.

John takes Pictionary way too seriously, and you threatened to break the easel and stab him when he raised his voice at Bob. Bucky fell in love with you a little bit more. 

Ava encouraged you to flash Bucky once when he was winning at Mario Kart. You did and he looked, but he still managed to win. 

Yelena argues with Alexei during Jenga. She doesn't need him to tell her which block to move or distract her. 

You and Bucky always end up choosing each other's cards during Cards Against Humanity. You just get each other, and you love getting a laugh out of him every time he reads your card. 

Alexei insists that karaoke should be considered a game and he always wants to sing first, which embarrasses Yelena. He once serenaded you and Bucky because, well, he’s one of your biggest supporters. 

Card games are tense and Yelena usually ends up with the most money by the end of them. She prefers Poker to Blackjack. 

Bob was so happy the first time he won Clue that he almost cried. Everyone hugged him, knowing he never got the chance to have fun game nights growing up. 

John recently made a casual comment about wanting to play games like these with his kid. No one gave him a hard time because everyone could see how much he longed for it. 

Some game nights end with yelling and broken furniture, but more often than not they end with smiles, laughter, and a sense of normalcy. It’s a nice change of pace from some of the horrors you’ve faced, and a great way to bond. 

But Bucky will still find a way to stab John if he can if only to keep him on his toes. 

BAHAHA. What do we think? Any other games? What other shenanigans do we think they get up to in and out of game nights? Let me know! Love and thanks for reading.

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

the avengers character shots

fucking hell what even is this, Tomathy--

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @xorpsbane @ladyofthestayingpower @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @acidcasualties @liminalpebble @alexakeyloveloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @vbecker10 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokiprompts @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @caffiend-queen @km-ffluv @kikster606 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @glitchquake @gigglingtiggerv2 @november-rayne @viv-annelore @five-miles-over @gruftiela @coldnique @smirkingkitten @raqnarokr @jaidenhawke @mrs-elsie-barnes @tallseaweed @chantsdemarins @cabingrlandrandomcrap @jiyascepter @cl-0-vr @foxherder ++

hi, girly girl ♡♡♡

i’m re-reading your grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader series (bc of course i am) and i was wondering, if you’re taking requests, what your thoughts are about:

💭 something happening to sunshine!reader, during a mission or something else, and she’s emotional (maybe hurt) and frantically asking for bucky. cue extra-protective!grumpy!bucky.

k love u bye

hi, babe :))

it started out as thoughts and I worked it into a lil something something

love you more <3

You came? You called.

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: The team’s brightest light shatters after a mission gone wrong, and only one person can put her back together.

Bucky Barnes :)

Word Count: Roughly 900 words 

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries mentioned (barely), mentions of blood, overprotective and soft Bucky, physical and emotional distress, a lil bit of angst (but just a pinch)

Author’s Note: I don't know where I was going with this, but I tried :(

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You’re not supposed to cry.

You're supposed to sparkle. 

You're supposed to laugh like you’ve never tasted bitterness, bounce off the walls like gravity never quite applied to you, and leave glitter bombs and rainbow cupcakes in your wake. 

You're the sunshine of the team, the chaos incarnate with fingers covered in icing from baking every other day, held together by too much energy and not enough fear.

But right now, you’re sobbing, shaking so hard it rattles your bones.

The safe house is too quiet. 

Too sterile. 

You hate the quiet.

Your world is made of giggles and explosions and yelling at Tony for calling you “a walking serotonin factory,” like it’s not the biggest compliment ever.

Steve’s kneeling next to you, his voice is soft, words calm and even, like a warm blanket. 

Nat’s crouched just behind him, her clothes smeared with blood that’s not hers. You know what that means. She already got them, the ones who hurt you.

But none of that matters.

You want him.

“Bucky,” you whisper softly, the name tumbling out between hiccups.

Steve tries to soothe you. “He’s coming, sunshine. He’s on his way.”

But that only makes it worse. It hurts, how badly you need him. The tight, aching space in your chest pulses with panic.

You try to push yourself off the couch even though your leg won't work right. The pain flares, sharp and hot, but not as bad as the panic clawing through your ribs. “I need him now. Please. I want Bucky.”

Your voice breaks, shatters into something raw and desperate.

Steve looks helpless. Even Captain America doesn’t know how to hold back the sun when it starts to implode.

Nat lays a hand on your shoulder. Her touch is light but firm. “He’s coming,” she says quietly. “He’s already ripping apart the walls to get to you.”

That sounds like him.

It helps, but not enough. 

The tears keep coming, stupid and hot, blurring everything. Your fingers grip the blanket around you, but it’s not what you want. 

You want metal and leather and the calloused hands that catch you midair when you launch off rooftops without a second thought. You want the gruff voice that mutters complaints when you bounce in front of him, bright and too close, but never pulls away.

You want Bucky.

And then he’s there.

Steve barely gets out of the way before Bucky’s next to you, metal hand cupping your cheek like you’re made of something too precious to break.

“There you are,” he breathes. “Sunshine, what did they do to you?”

Your hands reach out to grab him, clutching at his jacket, his shoulder, his neck, anything that’s him. 

You curl into him like a sunflower searching for sunlight, burying your face in his chest and gasping like you can’t breathe without him. 

He smells safe. 

Like home.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you sob into him. “I was so scared. I thought…”

He’s already wrapping around you, his flesh hand holding the back of your head, metal arm tucking you into him, so close there’s no space between your body and his. “Shh. I’m here, baby. You’re safe now. I got you. Nobody’s touching you ever again.”

You nod, even as the tears soak through his shirt. His lips press to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Like, if he kisses you enough, he can erase what happened.

“You’re late,” you whisper, your voice trembling and watery.

“I know, dollface,” he murmurs, his voice cracking at the edges. “I should’ve been faster.”

Steve clears his throat, somewhere behind you. “Maybe give her a second to breathe, Buck.”

“I am breathing,” you mutter into Bucky’s neck, your voice muffled but stubborn.

Bucky glares at Steve. “She wants me, she gets me. End of story.”

Nat smirks from the corner, arms crossed. “She was begging for you like the world was ending.”

“She’s my world,” Bucky shoots back without hesitation.

He tilts your chin up gently, and when your glassy eyes meet his, he winces. “Look at what they did to my baby,” he whispers. “Your face. Your leg...” He trails off, breathing hard, like he might go find the bastards and rip them apart again just for good measure.

“Nat already got them,” you say, sniffling, managing a tiny smile. “Bet she looked really cool doing it, too.”

“I wanted to be the one to end them,” he mutters darkly.

You tug on his sleeve. “You’re here now. That’s better, the best thing ever. Promise.”

He melts at that, just enough. His forehead presses to yours. “You scared me, you little menace.”

“I scare everyone,” you mumble, eyes drooping as the exhaustion catches up with you. “But you always come back.”

“Always, sunshine.” He kisses the tip of your nose, holding you like you’re breakable. “You’re my favorite chaos.”

You hum, smiling sleepily at him, and he has to look away so he doesn’t fold. “I like when you call me that.”

“I’d like it even more if you didn’t almost get yourself killed,” he mutters. “No more solo missions. No more running ahead without backup. No more playing bait.”

“But I’m good bait,” you protest, nuzzling into his chest.

“I don’t care. No more.” His voice is final. His grip is absolute. “You’re sticking with me.”

And maybe that sounds like a means of control to anyone else.

But you? You just smile.

Because you’re safe. 

Because he’s here.

Even the brightest light needs a shadow to guard it.

And Bucky Barnes is your favorite one.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll @desimarie12 @sleepysongbirdsings @barnesb420 @Suffereroflife @pigeonmama @yes-ilovetowrite @shadowstar1072 @serenaivy

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 1 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

SEPTEMBER 2025

You hadn't known what to expect. 

Sure, you'd done your fair share of press nights, television awards, red carpets and ceremonies, even the occasional movie premiere where (inexplicably) minor b, c and d-listers were invited.

You'd rubbed shoulders with the winners of Love Island, or the quarter finalists of The Voice, wide eyed and looking at each other like you were equally surprised to have been invited to these things.

Toronto was at a whole other level. 

You’d miraculously been recognised in a public gym class at your hotel that morning, but other than that you’d been able to blend in like the millions of other tourists. 

The studio had ‘loaned’ you the same stylist who’d handled the small flurry of media activity when you’d first been cast in the movie. Becka had been in Toronto ahead of you and had slotted into the third pillar of moral support alongside Dani and Lulu. She’d already taken Lulu with her to track down a selection of outfits to last the week, while you and Dani had been picked up to attend an opening weekend welcome lunch. 

Faces of people you’d only ever seen on TV and the big screen breezed past you both while you stayed glued to the wall.

“You should say hello to someone,” Dani muttered into her mimosa.

“If I knew anyone…” you grimaced. You scanned the room again, hoping to see someone, anyone from your movie. “They sent me here to die,” you lamented with a frown.

“Ahh, none of that,” Dani chastised, taking your hand in her own soft palm. “Look at me, this is fine. You entertain strangers all day, every day. This is just an extension of that. Now breathe, smile, relax.” 

You did as she asked.

“God, your skin looks incredible,” you marvel, “only you could get off a ten hour flight looking like that.” 

“Come on, silly. Let’s at least have a walk around the room and look like we belong here.” She tucked her hand into the bend of your elbow, and nudged you along. “That’s Sam Wilson,” she whispered under her breath, “he’s Bucky Barnes’ agent, and that’s Joaquin Torres with him.”

You looked briefly as Wilson embraced Torres in a huge hug, both of them smiling widely. Distracted, you didn’t notice Dani slip ahead of you to avoid bumping into anyone, leaving you to walk straight into the next person to cross your path.

“Oh, shit,” you hissed, barely managing to keep hold of your glass. A warm hand with a tight grip held your elbow as the collision threatened to send you to the floor.

“You should watch where you’re walking,” a familiar voice chided. 

The gruff tone of the Winter Soldier star, Bucky Barnes, was surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. He’d taken a step back out of your personal space, his eyes locked on your face as he waited for you to respond.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, aghast. “I’m really so sorry.”

You stumbled back another step, his hand leaving your elbow.

His eyes narrowed, studying you. 

He seemed more curious than annoyed at your embarrassment.

You, on the other hand, turned to retreat quickly with eyes like saucers. 

Behind you, Dani had traced her steps back to find you and on seeing Bucky, gave an unintentional squeak of surprise. She clapped one hand over her mouth, the other seeking out yours. 

Her gaze darted between you and Bucky. 

He gave her a cursory glance before his eyes slid back to you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and the tension in your shoulders. He wondered absently why he found himself unable to look away.

Dani tugged lightly on your hand.

“Please, excuse me,” you breathed, your voice far braver and stronger than you’d expected it to be.

He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t reply, watching as Dani led you away through the throng of producers, agents and PR reps. Bucky found himself still watching the space you’d previously occupied, his usually stern expression slightly softer than normal.

“Ladies fallin’ at your feet again, old man?” Sam grinned, giving Bucky’s shoulder a gentle shake.

Bucky rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his drink.

“Shut it, Wilson,” he muttered. Sam laughed, clearly enjoying Bucky’s discomfort.

“Ah, come on, Barnes,” he teased. ”Can’t handle a couple of adoring fans? It comes with the territory, you know that.”

You’d caught the tail end of the comment before the surrounding noise had filled the air.

“Oh god,” you mumbled under your breath, glancing over your shoulder as Dani dragged you through the crowd. “I just collided with Bucky Barnes.”

Dani nodded sympathetically, her hand tightening around yours.

“Don’t worry babe, this is a big place. You probably won’t see him again.”

“You think?” You asked, your voice small and tight with the embarrassment of almost falling over in front of the hottest, most famous actor in the room.

“Sure,” she smiled, taking a glass of champagne from a passing tray and replacing your empty one with the full one. “Put it out of your head.”

You nodded.

“Right. No point worrying about it.” Your eyes darted around the room, half hoping to catch another glimpse of Bucky, half hoping to avoid any further encounters. 

It wasn’t long before you found your own group of castmates, producers and studio bodies, the memory of bumping into Bucky fading into the background. You were soon caught up in the whirlwind of conversations about upcoming projects, gossip and industry news. 

The afternoon slipped away, with Dani diligently whipping out her phone to note down the various commitments and events you were being invited to. Your schedule was becoming increasingly hectic, and the thought of everything the rest of the week had in store caused a riot of nerves in your stomach.

“You should run a side hustle as my glamorous assistant,” you teased.

“Hmm, the best organised hair stylist in the industry. Curling wand in one hand, calendar in the other.” She laughed, linking her arm through yours. 

“Thank you,” you kissed her cheek softly.

“The studio would get you an assistant, you know?”

“I think I prefer you, if you’re not too busy?”

“You’re the only one I’m here for, babe. Just make sure I have enough time to do your hair.”

You grinned at her, your heart swelling with affection.

“You’re the best. No one else is stealing you away.”

“You dragged me to Toronto,” she said as if it had been a hardship, “of course no one else is stealing me!”

Relief washed over you, having her and Lulu with you was grounding and comforting. 

You made your way towards the exit, ready for a reprieve from the hectic, whirlwind of an afternoon.

The cinema was dark, filled with a growing hum of anticipation. You’d dressed down today, in jeans and a sweater, the polar opposite of awards season glam. It was a relief to be an unknown, no one paid you any mind as you slunk down into your seat and took the popcorn box from Lulu. 

Your studio had given you tickets to the Howling Commandos premiere and panel and as the opening credits rolled, you noticed Bucky Barnes slip into the theatre and take a seat next to Yelena Belova on the front row, their heads bent as they whispered to each other. 

You tore your eyes away and concentrated on the movie.

It quickly pulled you in, the dialogue, the visuals, the acting. You could feel the tension radiating from the screen.

Two hours later, tears streaked your face, the film's emotional punches had hit just right. It had been more powerful than you anticipated and you couldn’t wait to hear from the director as the lights flicked back on.

The energy in the theatre was electric as Belova, Barnes and Torres made their way to the stage, guided by a local journalist acting as the moderator. 

You paid close attention.

You were used to a surface level of media scrutiny, the local paper outside the theatre after a show, but you had a feeling that nothing could prepare you for your own up and coming premiere.

The cast of the Howling Commandos were clearly comfortable in front of such a large audience, and played off the panel's questions with ease.

They were a joy to watch.

Insightful, witty… Belova heaped praise on her starring actors and they responded in kind. 

They left you in awe. 

You'd crept forwards, onto the edge of your seat. 

“And what are you guys looking forward to seeing over the next few days?” The moderator asked curiously. 

“The Stark documentary for me,” Joaquin Torres grinned. 

“Cabaret looks so fun.” Yelena added. 

“For me, it's Cabaret and also the new John Walker movie,” Bucky said with a smirk, the audience erupted into laughter at the mention of his box office rival and Winter Soldier co-star. 

“Musical fans, huh? Think we might see you in a musical one day?”

Bucky scoffed.

“God no, no one wants to hear me sing,” he laughed. The audience vehemently disagreed, as did Yelena. 

“She's gonna put you in one,” Torres laughed, slapping Bucky on the back.

“She can try!”

“I'm gonna write it next,” she teased. 

From far up in the auditorium, you could see the tops of Bucky’s ears pink. 

Next to you, Lulu's hand reached for yours, gripping tightly and leaving crescent moon shapes on your palm. 

“He's coming to see your movie tomorrow,” she hissed. 

“Of course he's not, he's just saying that to be polite. He probably can't even go and get a coffee without getting mobbed. How's he going to sit in a movie theatre?” You fobbed her off but her words lingered in your mind. 

The panel concluded its questions, and the auditorium burst into applause. 

The cast was shepherded out of the room, fans already gathering, eager to catch a glimpse of their favourite actors.

You slipped through the crowded space, trying to stay out of the way. Lulu was ahead of you, navigating her way out of the area, and Dani stayed right behind you. 

It was highly unlikely you’d be recognised here, but you'd already begun to notice an uptick in the number of people doing a double take when they saw you, from the girl in your gym class that morning, to the barista at the coffee shop at lunchtime.

You couldn't help but notice that the thin veil of anonymity you had enjoyed was quickly slipping away. With your own movie premiere just around the corner, you knew it was only a matter of time before your face was plastered everywhere.

“Sit still please,” Lulu breathed, her face millimeters from yours and pinched in concentration as she applied false lashes to your own.

You did as she asked and tried not to look past her at the outfit Becka was steaming. The first of three, one for morning interviews, one for the premiere and one for the party your studio was hosting that night. Next to Lulu, Dani unfurled her case of equipment.

“Hair up or down?” She asked, not you though, she was asking Becka.

Becka took a moment to examine the outfits.

“Can we do up today and have it down later tonight?”

“That’s fine, I can style it loosely so it’s easy to take down this evening.”

“It’s so exciting!” Lulu giggled. She finished the lashes and stood up straight, stretching her back.

“Scary exciting,” you corrected her. “My butterflies have got butterflies.”

She switched places with Dani who squeezed your shoulder before brushing through your hair.

“Just be yourself and have fun,” she chimed in. 

Easier said than done.

You embraced the interviews, your confidence growing with each publication. It was a relief to know you’d done all you could to support your movie and to give it the hype - and the premiere - you felt it deserved.

The girls had gone ahead of you to the theatre, leaving you to walk the red carpet alone.

Your co-stars took you under their wing. 

Despite it being your face (and ass) on the billboards, there were relatively few flashes from the photographers.

“They’ll regret sleeping on this moment, love,” your charming movie love interest, Steve Rogers told you warmly from a few steps further along the carpet. 

“Doesn’t bother me in the slightest,” you smiled, “I think I prefer them not caring who I am.”

“Spoken like a true star in the making,” he moved to your side and the photographers went into a frenzy, “they’ll be fighting for your attention soon enough.”

Steve offered you his arm and you took it gratefully, leaving the red carpet behind and heading into the theatre. 

It was a bigger auditorium than the one the previous night for the Howling Commandos movie, but yours was there on a much bigger budget and with a well known director attached.

You squeezed Steve's arm, slightly hesitant to follow him, but he pulled you along and into the room.

A cheer went up through the room at the sight of you both and you scanned the crowd for a glimpse of the girls as the lights began to fade. Just as you gave up hope of spotting them, you saw Dani’s hand fly into the air and wave. You blew her a quick kiss and sat down. 

You could hear the murmurs of anticipation in the darkness, rustles of people shifting in their seats and getting comfortable. 

This was the first time you would see the finished product - the final edit of the film you’d poured your soul into, upended your entire life for. 

You were nervous at seeing yourself on screen, but there was also a thread of excitement, making your heart race. 

This was the kind of life changing event that you, and others in your circumstances, had always talked about. 

And yes, it could all be over by this time tomorrow. 

The movie could flop, and you’d go back to being one of the nuns on the Sister Act tour, or one of the Mean Girls.

Your company would welcome you back with plenty of gin and hugs, and life would go on. 

But for this night, this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, you wanted to soak it all in.

As the film unravelled before you, you hardly recognised yourself on screen. 

The movie transported you, your memories of filming and rehearsals merging with the outcome you were now finally watching. 

An overwhelming sense of pride filled you.

When the screen went black and the credits rolled, the audience erupted into a deafening applause. 

It drowned out everything around you and you could barely hear the moderator call you to the stage for the panel.

As you lined up on the stage, the applause slowly died down. 

The host smiled warmly.

“Welcome, and congratulations! It seems like these guys are pretty happy with the movie!”

Cheers and shouts filled the room again. 

“Thank you so much!” Steve called out to the audience.

“We'll come to our leading lady first of all, huge experience for you, how's it feel?” She asked you excitedly.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words to describe the mix of emotions coursing through you. It was hard to articulate something that was so difficult to explain, it all felt so alien to you. 

“Gosh, it's crazy!” You exclaimed happily. “I'm blown away by all the support - I can't thank you enough.”

The audience cheered in response to your heartfelt gratitude, the energy in the room sky high.

“Now, for those who don't know, you're an accomplished stage performer, how different was this to your usual?” The moderator asked.

You took a moment to consider the question. 

“It's definitely a different experience. Theater is live, it's raw and in the moment - no redos or do overs,” you explained, pausing for a breath.

“You say that, but is it true you sang each take live?” she queried. 

“Yeah, I didn't realise until a few takes in that I didn't have to belt it out every time,” you admitted sheepishly.

There was a murmurer of laughter through the audience. You laughed with them, your cheeks turning pink at the revelation.

“Oh, your poor voice! I can only guess how your throat must have felt after a few takes on those songs.” 

The questions progressed quickly through updating the original musical for a modern audience and the casting process before the host wrapped up with some more lighthearted queries. 

“Were there any other inspirations both you and the production team drew on aside from the movie and the stage show?” She asked. 

“Absolutely, for me in particular I watched a lot of Chicago, Sweet Charity, Burlesque… movies with incredible choreography and those instantly recognisable songs.”

“Well it certainly shows, the movie blends seamlessly into the modern era,” the host encouraged. 

“It does, I think it helps that it was already such a forward-thinking show to begin with. The themes really are timeless.” Steve added. 

“And finally, have you had a chance to see any of the movies being shopped around yet?”

“I'm seeing the Stark documentary tomorrow,” Steve offered.

“And I saw Howling Commandos yesterday,” you smiled. 

“How was it?”

“A masterpiece. I cried through the whole thing. The cast were incredible -”

“Bucky Barnes, right?” She interrupted and the audience in your theatre cheered loudly. You nodded in agreement. 

“He was… beautiful to watch. And so lucky to work with Yelena Belova, she's a visionary.”

The host thanked you and the rest of the cast, and the event security appeared from the wings, ready to prevent the audience from rushing down to the stage and mobbing the cast. 

From your vantage point, you could see Dani sitting about halfway back in the auditorium, waving enthusiastically. 

You caught her eye and waved back, the brightness of the auditorium lights now illuminating her features clearly. 

The man sitting directly in front of her seemed a little bewildered by your exchange, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity.

He appeared familiar, but the baseball cap he was wearing hid most of his face from your view. 

You found yourself squinting, trying to get a better look at him. 

The man's shoulders looked broad and toned, his frame solid. As you leaned slightly to the side to get a better angle, the man jerked his head up, noticing your curious gaze.

Bucky Barnes remained unphased and held your gaze for a moment without blinking, challenging you to make a scene by drawing attention to him. 

After what felt like an eternity, he winked, the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly smirk. 

You felt your cheeks heat up under the bright lights, and embarrassed, tore your eyes away from him, focusing your attention back on the studio PR rep who was outlining the plan for the short meet-and-greet sessions and the after-party event following the screening.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your mouth suddenly dry but your hands clammy.

It felt inevitable that you’d run into Bucky again - though hopefully figuratively rather than literally - the Hollywood press was in a frenzy, hyping up the impact that both movies would have on the upcoming awards season.

Anticipation coiled and twisted in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again, and the very real possibility of talking to him. You’d be lying if you said the notion didn’t exhilarate you.

Jackass

Summary : Everyone is horrified that Bucky is flirting with a married woman, but then they realise there's a reason why. 

Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x florist!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Secret wife trope. Cursing, Injury. Featuring the Thunderbolts*. Bucky kinda gaslights the entire team. Fluff!!!!

Word count : 3k

Note : The next chapter of spoils of war is almost here, but I just need to go over a couple of paragraphs! In the meantime, enjoy!

The Thunderbolts knew a few undeniable truths about Bucky Barnes.

One: He was grumpy.

Two: He was a private person.

Three: He never, ever let anyone see where he lived.

That last one bothered them the most. They’d pieced together the general area; a quiet neighborhood with old brick buildings, modern cafés, and just enough charm to make it feel… vintage. But no one had ever set foot inside his home, no one had even seen him unlock the door to his sanctuary, since he dodged every casual suggestion to hang out at his place with a variation of “I got plans” or another. And, curiously, every time they stopped for coffee in this part of town, Bucky would mysteriously slip into the tiny flower shop beneath a brick apartment building.

That was odd. No one would’ve guessed that Bucky Barnes even liked flowers.

What was even odder was that this infinitely grumpy, emotionally constipated, “I hate people” supersoldier — would be capable of flirting.

With the florist.

With you.

“Are we seeing this right?” Yelena whispered, elbowing Alexei as they peered through the shop window after Bucky made them wait outside. 

They watched as Bucky stood by the counter, leaning in ever so slightly, a charming grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you wrap a bouquet.

“He’s smiling,” Alexei muttered, horrified.

Inside, Bucky reached for the bouquet you were tying up, his gloved fingers brushing against yours. You playfully smacked his hand away, laughing. He laughed, too, and that was enough to send Yelena spiraling into an existential crisis.

Yelena squinted. “He’s flirting.”

Alexei frowned. “Bucky does not flirt.”

“I know. That’s why I’m freaking out.”

They watched as you handed him the bouquet, and in return, Bucky gave you a wink. And then he turned, walking out like he hadn’t just transformed into a different person.

That was when Yelena, utterly horrified Yelena, caught a flash of gold on your ring finger. She squinted her eyes. It was unmistakable. “Wait a second—”

As soon as he got back to them, Alexei folded his arms. “You were flirting.”

Bucky scoffed. “I was not.”

“She’s married!” Yelena accused, pointing dramatically. “She had a ring! You flirted with a married woman!”

Bucky didn’t even blink. He simply shrugged, tucking the bouquet carefully under his arm. “I didn’t see a ring.”

“She was literally wearing it—”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky insisted, tugging absentmindedly at the chain around his neck— the one that held his dog tags, hidden under his shirt.

Yelena and Alexei exchanged a deeply disturbed look.

Bucky Barnes was flirting with a married florist.

What was the world coming to?

—

Bucky knew he’d fucked up the second he stepped back into Thunderbolts HQ. 

Alexie had just looked confused, while Yelena had been simmering the entire walk back, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it was a miracle she hadn’t snapped a rib. 

She lasted exactly two seconds before she exploded. “You are jackass, Barnes!”

Bucky barely had time to sigh before she stomped closer.

“What’s so wrong with what I did?” he muttered, placing the bouquet of flowers in an empty vase

Yelena let out an incredulous laugh, pacing in front of him like a caged tiger ready to strike. “What’s wrong?” she echoed, her accent thickening with rage. “You flirted with a married woman! I should punch you in the face on principle!”

From the lounge, John Walker looked up from whatever government-issued nonsense he was pretending to read. His brows immediately furrowed, his eyes twisting into the signature disapproving dad look he’d perfected. “Wait, what?”

Ava, who had been drinking tea in the corner, raised an eyebrow. “This is scandalous,” she murmured, eyes brightening with intrigue.

Alexei, who was now plopped on the couch like some washed-up, Soviet-era king, said, “If a man had flirted with my wife like that, I would have hunt him down and mount his head on wall.” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself in approval. “As is tradition.”

Bucky scowled. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh?” Yelena snorted, “So you were just undressing her with your eyes for fun, then?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s just how I look at people.”

Alexie shook his head. “So you look at us like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth. Then immediately shut it.

Yelena’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah. Thought so.”

John’s arms crossed over his chest in that holier-than-thou stance that he was so famous for. “Look, man, I’m married. And if someone flirted with my wife, we’d have a problem.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” Yelena threw up her hands. “She’s married, Bucky!”

“Okay, even if I was flirting,” Bucky turned to her, exasperated— “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s hands flew to her head, fingers digging into her scalp like she was resisting the urge to rip out her own hair. “You probably chose to look away!”

John sighed like a disappointed youth pastor. “This is unbelievable.”

“No,” Bucky still insisted, “I didn’t see a ring.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped. “It was a thick gold band, Barnes. How could you not see it?”

Ava, who was clearly enjoying the drama more than anyone, sighed. “That is inappropriate behaviour, Barnes.”

Alexei shook his head again, “You should apologise.”

“I’m not apologising,” Bucky scoffed, “Because I did nothing wrong.”

His fingers toyed absentmindedly with the chain that led to his dog tags, and Yelena immediately locked onto the movement. Every person has a tell, a habit they did when they were nervous. And being a super spy, Yelena knew this was his.

She narrowed her eyes. “You are gaslighting us,” she muttered, pacing again like she was mentally weighing the pros and cons of strangling a super soldier.

“I didn’t see a ring,” Bucky repeated, his voice steady.

“You’re lying,” she snapped.

He shrugged, maddeningly casual in all of this chaos. “Guess we’ll never know.”

Ava laughed cynically. “I can’t tell if you’re a complete scumbag or if this is just really fun for you.”

Bucky just popped a beer from the fridge, flicking the cap off with his metal hand. “Why not both?”

He took a long sip of his beer, completely unbothered.

And maybe, he looked a little bit too smug.

—

Three weeks later, Bucky led Yelena and John on a mission to take down a high-scale arms dealer.

And, as always, the mission had gone sideways.

It was too late for any shops to be open, too late for anyone with a shred of common sense to be out on the streets. 

Yelena was bleeding, pressing a torn scrap of fabric against a deep gash on her arm. John had a busted lip and a slight limp. Bucky was sporting a few cuts and bruises himself, but nothing he hadn’t shaken off a thousand times before.

“Guys,” Yelena managed a grunt, shifting her grip on her makeshift bandage, “we need to get ourselves patched up before one of us drops dead.”

“We ran out of antiseptics back at HQ,” John reminded them.

Yelena groaned, throwing her head back in despair. “So what are we supposed to do?” She gritted out, “Just bleed out in the street like sad little orphans?”

John scowled. “That’s a little dramatic.”

Yelena turned and glared at him. “Your face is dramatic.”

Bucky let out a deep breath through his nose, running a hand along his damp hair. He glanced around the street, making sure they weren’t being followed before whispering to himself, “Guess we’re doing this now.”

Yelena tilted her head. “Doing what?”

Instead of answering, Bucky turned on his heel and started walking.

John and Yelena gave each other a wary look.

“I don’t like when he does that,” John said.

“No one does,” Yelena agreed, but they both followed anyway. 

It didn’t take long for them to recognise the route— ​​It was the neighbourhood where the team usually got coffee.

But Bucky wasn’t heading to the café.

They rounded the corner, and suddenly John stopped dead in his tracks.

It was a closed florist—the very one where Bucky had, allegedly, been trying to charm his way into a married woman’s bed.

To John’s absolute horror, Bucky walked right up to the door and knocked.

“Bucky.” He said, voice strangled. “What the hell is this?”

Yelena blinked. “I don’t think we need to seduce a married florist to get medical supplies.”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples like he was already regretting this decision. He turned to them, leveling them both with a look. “Alright, listen up,” he said through gritted teeth. "The secret’s out now, so you two gotta keep your mouths shut.”

John’s brows furrowed. “What secret?”

Before Bucky could answer, the door to the flower shop clicked open.

And there you were, standing in the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s hoodies, looking exactly how he’d expected: exasperated but unsurprised. He knew you’d still be up, cataloguing the latest floral shipment for tomorrow’s arrangements.

The second your eyes landed on a bruised and bloodied Bucky, and flanked by two wounded Thunderbolts, no less—you let out a sigh.

“James,” you said knowingly, your voice laced with fond irritation. “What did you do?”

Yelena and John froze in their tracks.

James?

James?

No one called Bucky by his first name. No one. Not unless they had a death wish.

Bucky, unfazed, just stepped inside. “We ran out of antiseptics, honey.”

Yelena and John exchanged a wide-eyed look.

Honey?

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Again?”

Bucky shrugged like this was a perfectly normal Thursday night occurrence.

You muttered under your breath, “I should’ve known this would happen when I married an ex-assassin.”

Oh.

Yelena’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Married.” she repeated

John blinked rapidly. “This is why we can never go to your place?”

Bucky could only shrug. Of course it was— they would have seen the evidence of how much love in his home was carved out for just you.

John let out a wheeze.

Yelena pointed between you and Bucky, motioning erratically. “Wait. WAIT. So—so she’s your wife? She married you?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup.”

“Like—actually married?”

“Mhm.”

Yelena gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. In a way, she had. “And no one knows?”

Bucky thought for a second. “Sam does.”

“And Joaquin,” you added, trying to be helpful.

Bucky nodded. “Right. Joaquin.”

“Oh, and Isaiah and Elijah Bradley.”

“Yeah, they were at the wedding.”

“A teenager knew about this,” John’s eye twitched, “—and we didn’t?”

Bucky could only nod again.

Yelena rubbed a hand down her face, “You gaslit us,” she accused, jabbing a finger at Bucky. “You let us believe you were a homewrecker for weeks—when you were married the whole time?!”

You snorted, glancing at Bucky, who had the audacity to look smug. “Yeah, that sounds like my husband.”

Yelena let out a string of very creative Russian curses.

John looked like he was about to have a stroke. 

“All secrets aside,” you said, welcoming the two disoriented Thunderbolts in and locking the door behind you, “It’s good to finally meet you both.”

John still looked like he was buffering. Yelena, on the other hand, was vibrating with adrenaline, looking like she was trying to solve a conspiracy theory in real time.

“This is—this is insane,” she muttered, pointing aggressively at Bucky, then at you, then back at Bucky. “You’re—you’re so normal.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d like to think so.”

Bucky just hummed. “She’s perfect.”

Yelena actually sputtered like an old car engine.

John made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a strangled laugh. This was all too much.

But there wasn’t time to let them spiral further. Bucky, gently nudged you toward the others. “Take care of them first, darling. They’ve got worse injuries.”

You frowned, wanting to protest—because, really, Bucky should always be your first priority—but your husband was nothing if not stubborn. You knew better than to argue when he had that look in his eyes— you knew that fighting him on this would only drag things out longer, and right now, time was precious.

You turned your attention to Yelena and John, motioning for them to follow you deeper into the shop. The scent of lavender, roses, and freshly cut stems—clung to the air as you led them toward the back, where your little work table stood tucked in the corner.

Years of practice had made you quick. You moved with quiet efficiency, gathering supplies from neat shelves: you cut and split an aloe vera plant for burns, grabbed bandages, and a mix of balms you’d perfected over your time tending to Bucky. It wasn’t the kind of sterile, military-grade first aid they were used to, but it would have to do for now.

You started tending to Yelena’s arm, gently dabbing the wound with fresh aloe. She hissed through her teeth before narrowing her eyes at you.

“So how long has this been a thing?” she demanded. Bucky, now leaning lazily against the counter with his arms crossed, barely spared her a glance. “A while.”

John scoffed, “A while?”

You bit back a grin as you smoothed a bandage over Yelena’s arm, “Three years.”

Yelena’s jaw dropped.

“Three—” She turned to Bucky so fast it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “You’ve been married for three years?!”

John let out a long, defeated groan,This was simply too much to process. “Fuck’s sake.”

Yelena shook her head. “I thought you were a loner who hated people."

Bucky only shrugged, unbothered. 

You chuckled as you pressed the last piece of medical tape into place on Yelena’s arm. “Alright, you’re done.” Then, glancing at John, you motioned for him to sit. “Your turn.”

John sighed but still plopped down. You took his hand gently, turning it over to examine his bruised knuckles before moving to his busted lip.

Meanwhile, they kept peppering you with questions, barely giving you room to breathe.

“How did you meet?”

“How do you put up with Bucky’s brooding?”

“Does he ever actually smile?”

At that last one, you paused, dabbing at John’s lip carefully. “He smiles all the time.”

John let out a scoff. “No, he doesn’t.”

You glanced over at Bucky, knowing he showed that part of him to you and no one else. “Oh, he does.”

And then, finally, it was Bucky’s turn.

You turned to him, your brows knitting together as you studied the little cuts on his cheek, the dried blood near his brows. He looked a little tired, a little worn around the edges. 

Your fingers found his chin, tilting his face toward you as you inspected the damage. Your touch was so featherlight, so incredibly careful. There was no missing the way your thumb brushed over his cheekbone— how incredibly gentle it was.

“You should’ve let me do you first,” you murmured, half-scolding, half-concerned.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, a flicker of mischief lighting his tired blue eyes. “That’s exactly what you said last night, sweetheart.”

John choked.

Yelena groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow from the nearest chair and hurling it at Bucky’s head. “You two are disgusting.”

Bucky caught the pillow effortlessly, giving her a smug grin before setting it aside. When his eyes found yours again, his shit-eating grin turned… lovely. The tension in his brows eased as you dabbed gently at his cut. 

For all the blood, for all the bruises, you handled him like he was glass.

And then, without thinking, you leaned in.

It was meant to be a brief kiss— a quick reassurance, a way of saying I’ve got you. But the moment your lips brushed his, you couldn’t help but linger.

Your fingers curled instinctively against his chin. His hand found your waist without hesitation, as if he needed you closer. As if the world shrank down to just the two of you. 

John and Yelena exchanged a look, the previous horror of their teammate hiding a secret wife momentarily forgotten because this was… weirdly cute.

You giggled as you pulled away, seeing Bucky looking at you like you hung the moon for him. 

“Anywhere else?” you asked, brushing your thumb over his lips.

Bucky hesitated just for a second. Then, a little sheepishly, he said, “Got a cut on my ribs.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. Of course he did. Before he could argue, you reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged.

“Off,” you said simply.

Bucky huffed but didn’t fight you. He lifted his arms, letting you strip the fabric from his skin, and goddamn.

Bucky, half-naked, was unfairly, ridiculously beautiful. Even now, even after all this time, seeing him like this still knocked the breath from your lungs. His body was a roadmap of battles fought and survived, scars carved into the expanse of his chest and ribs that told stories only he could say. 

John made a strangled sound, somewhere between “Jesus Christ” and “I need to leave the room,” but you ignored him completely. Yelena let out a dramatic sigh and whispered “they are one second away from sucking each other’s face off,” to herself.

You tuned them both out, fingers dragging carefully over Bucky’s ribs, searching for the wound. When you found a thin jagged cut just below his ribs— you sighed softer this time and reached for the aloe.

“You need to stop getting hurt, my love,” you said, smoothing the cool gel over his skin.

Bucky’s voice came quieter. “Lucky I have someone to take care of me, then.”

And that’s when Yelena finally noticed it.

The thin chain around Bucky’s neck—one she’d always assumed was just for his dog tags—held something else, too.

A ring.

A simple wedding band that matched yours, worn from years of resting against his skin.

She blinked, realisation hitting her like a freight train. Oh.

That’s why he always played with it.

Every time Bucky was nervous, every time he was uncertain, his fingers would move to that chain—not just to fiddle with his tags, but to remind himself of you.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete jackass after all.

-end.

Note: Hope this doesn't bite me in the ass when the movie comes out.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

Red, White, and Blew em' All Away

Summary : Bucky asks John Walker to set him up with his best friend. Of course it's an unnecessarily complicated plan.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x sniper! reader (she/her), Best friend!John Walker

Warnings/tags : Thunderbolts* spoilers!!!!!!! Fluff, Cursing, brief mention of trauma. Implied sex. Brief mention of death. John has massive Ross from friends energy in this one. Mutual pining???? Everyone lives in the tower. (Please let me know if I miss anything!!!)

Word count : 5.3k

Note : This was inspired by the song Supersoaker by Kings of Leon. I’ll reply to some asks/comments soon since I’ve been short on time! If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. I’m also closing it soon since it's getting a bit out of hand. Anyone have any suggestions on how to organise taglists better? Anyway, enjoy!

You were one of the most lethal soldiers of your generation—at least, you had been. Back in the 75th Ranger Regiment, you were very close with both John Walker and Lemar Hoskins. They were family, as far as you were concerned.

You never used to question orders. Back in the unit, that wasn’t your job. You were a sniper. You saw the world through a scope, in gradients of distance, timing, and target confirmation. You didn’t hesitate.

Lemar used to say, “You think too much after the mission.”

You’d reply with a dismissive chuckle, “That’s the only time it’s safe to think.”

But watching Lemar die changed something in you. You saw it in slow motion— the way his back hit the pillar, horrified as John’s guttural rage as you stood frozen on the spot. 

When you saw him raise the shield, you knew what he was going to do. But you didn’t stop him. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe you didn’t want to.

Watching John—your brother in arms—bring down his shield like a guillotine on a surrendering man snapped the last thread of who you thought you were.

So you fought Sam and Bucky in Latvia, trying to explain that John was in grief. You knew what he did was wrong, but fuck— you’ve just lost Lemar, too. 

Because if he wasn’t your field partner, who the hell were you? 

You held your own for a while— until Bucky disarmed you, pressed you against a wall, breath ragged, eyes wild. You’d never admit it, but that the moment stuck with you, burned itself into your memory like a scar on skin.

After the dust settled and Karli was gone, Sam reached out. He saw something in you. He dragged you to the VA, made you talk, made you work through what you felt. 

You started climbing out of the pit. And then, she came—Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, with a promise of purpose and redemption. Just like that, you were right back at John’s side, following orders again.

—

But it was different now.

After New York, after pulling Bob out of his literal void, you had… a family. 

And you moved to Avengers tower with that family.

Bucky started noticing you more after that day. He always had, if he was being honest. From the first time you pulled the bolt on your M24 with that annoying little pretty smirk after you, John, and Lemar helped him and Sam with the Flag Smashers the first time he met you. 

You weren’t just good— you were dangerous. And that caught his attention. 

So when you both moved to live in the Avengers tower full-time, you and Bucky, ironically, clicked. Two ex-army snipers, worn out by decades of destruction, it felt like a no-brainer. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you thought he was stupidly hot even when he had a knife to your throat during training. He, likewise, thought your smile was devastating. 

You sparred. You bantered. You shot rounds together every morning now at the Avengers compound.

It was a ritual at this point. 0600 at the shooting range. You and Bucky would be shoulder to shoulder, trash-talking, competing, and trying to out-shoot each other like teenagers in basic training. The bullet holes on your targets were always nearly stacked.

“Can’t believe a relic like you still has steady hands,” you teased once.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Can’t believe you’ve got all these fancy new tech, and still can’t beat me. Back in the 40s, all I had was a good eye.”

“Whatever, old man,” You huffed, but smiled. He thought it was the best damn thing he’d ever seen.

So yeah, it’s safe to say Bucky had a crush on you.

The kind of crush that made him forget how to speak like a normal human whenever you looked at him. The kind that made him stalk around in doorways just a second too long, hoping you’d notice. The kind that had him memorising your coffee order and pretending it was just coincidence.

The only problem was that he had absolutely no idea how to ask you out.

So, naturally, he turned to the one person he thought might have some experience in that department.

John Walker—your brother in everything but blood. The man who once challenged a bouncer to arm-wrestle just because you said the guy looked strong. The man who had never, in the history of knowing you, made a subtle decision.

Bucky should have known better.

The second Bucky confessed, he regretted it.

John’s eyes went wide with shock and glee, like a kid on Christmas who just found out his new toy came with explosives. He damn near shouted, “Wait—wait. You have a crush on my best friend?!”

Bucky winced. “Keep your voice down.”

John leaned back and grinned like he just cracked the Pentagon’s launch codes. “Oh ho ho. This is gold. Don’t worry. I got you.”

“John—”

“I’ve got you, Buck,” he insisted, slapping a hand to his shoulder like he was about to make a blood oath. “I’m gonna help you win her over.”

Oh. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

—

It was so bad.

Because instead of helpful advice or moral support—or literally any of the sane things a normal person might do—John decided to be John. Unnecessary, over-complicated, convoluted John. 

He ended up setting you up on a blind date with someone from his high school.

Not just someone. Bruce Mallory, the guy everyone hated. The walking red flag. A high school quarterback who used to cheat in every test and called women “females.”

Bucky found out three hours before the date.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded, cornering John by the weights like this was a hostage negotiation.

“Relax,” John said like this was all going according to plan. “It’s strategy.”

“Strategy?”

“Yeah, man. Trust me.” He leaned forward like he was about to reveal top-level clearance intelligence. “She needs a push. I know her enough to know likes you, but she thinks you’re out of her league.”

Bucky huffed. “That’s insane.”

“Exactly,” John said, like that somehow made sense. “So, I set her up with a guy I know. Total douchebag. Real fucking dickhead. She’ll hate the date. Then you swoop in afterward, say something funny, remind her what a good guy looks like. Boom. Bucky gets the girl.”

Bucky stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You’re telling me… you intentionally set her up for a bad time so I’d look better by comparison?”

John looked insulted that he even had to explain. “It’s foolproof.”

Foolproof. Right. Coming from the divorced guy. 

Bucky groaned.

Somehow, this had become his life.

“See? Bruce Mallory,” John said, showing him this guy’s old high school photo on his phone. “Used to sell oregano as weed in high school. Had three girlfriends at the same time until they all found out at prom and cornered him by the punch bowl. Absolute legend.”

Bucky stared at him. 

It sounded unhinged. Bucky should’ve shut it down then and there. 

But the truth was, he was desperate. You haunted his thoughts. He couldn’t breathe right when you were in the same room as him. He was in deep, and every time he thought about telling you, his mind conjured a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t.

So yeah. He let John run his little plan.

And then watched it implode in slow motion.

Because when you came back to Avengers Tower after the date, you weren’t angry. You weren’t disappointed or exhausted or cursing John’s name. 

You were… happy? 

Bucky’s chest tightened like a vice.

“How was it?” he managed, voice tight, his rehearsed smile barely holding.

You shrugged casually. “Really good, actually.”

Bucky blinked. “Oh?”

“Well,” you said thoughtfully, “he’s a pediatrician and goes to the same gym I used to. Volunteers in war zones sometimes for humanitarian missions and he’s currently saving up to establish a free hospital in areas of conflict.”

Bucky’s throat went dry. “Hmm?”

“Yeah. Also, he fosters dogs—he’s got this one now with three legs—and he’s been learning ASL so he can work with hearing-impaired kids.”

Bucky felt the world tilt sideways.

“He… fosters dogs?”

“Yeah.” You smiled, and it felt like getting stabbed with a butter knife— it was slow, messy, painful. “We’re going out again next week.”

“Thanks for introducing us, man,” You turned to John, whose mouth was agape from the kitchen, “You’re the best.”

John looked like someone had just told him his credit score was zero. “Uh… y-you’re welcome?”

Bucky laughed. It was a brittle, choking sound that tasted like rust in his throat. “Wow. Great. No, this is… this is great.” He turned to John, eyes cold. “Hey. John? Can we talk? Just real quick. In the hallway. Now.”

John followed him knowing he would get an earful. The second the door shut, Bucky pointed at him.

“What the hell did you do?!”

John threw his hands up. “How was I supposed to know he’d go through a redemption arc?!”

“You told me he was a human garbage fire!”

“He was! Last time I saw him he was getting dumped three times simultaneously. I didn’t know he’d become freakin’ Mother Teresa with a gym membership!”

“He volunteers in war zones, John!”

“I know!”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to peel off his skin. “She was supposed to hate him. I was gonna show up, make her laugh—”

John winced. “Yeah, that was the plan. But apparently, Bruce Mallory became Ghandi’s hot cousin, I know.” He paced around the room, “which means… I need to come up with a plan B.”

—

Meanwhile, you were sitting in the common room trying not to scream into a pillow.

Because Bruce Mallory was great. He was smart, kind, and selfless. But you knew exactly why you’d said yes to a second date.

Because you had to get over Bucky Barnes.

You’d been crushing on him for months. Hopelessly. Pathetically. Every glance, every half-smile had rooted deeper in your chest like a splinter you didn’t want to remove. But he was a war hero—broken and still healing, older than time yet still disgustingly handsome. He was Bucky Barnes.

There was no version of reality where someone like him would stoop so low and choose someone like you.

So when John set you up and Bruce Mallory came along, you stupidly thought, maybe if you dated someone else, it would fill that hole that Bucky left in your heart. Maybe it would help you let go of the fantasy of ever being with the former winter soldier.

So yes. You’re going on a second date, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

—

You went on the second date next week and didn’t say much after, just that it went “well” and you were “going on a third.” No dreamy smiles, but still— no complaints either.

Which, for Bucky, not knowing everything was somehow worse.

He stood in the gym, punching a bag so hard it nearly came off the chain.

Across the room, John leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching him implode.

“She didn’t rave about it,” John said helpfully. “That’s something, right?”

Bucky didn’t respond and just kept punching.

“She didn’t not like it,” John added. “But you know, not every spark sets the world on fire. Maybe she’s just... being polite.”

“John,” Bucky growled, sweat dripping from his temples. “Do you have a Plan B?”

John nodded, a little too quickly. “Absolutely. We’re going on a family vacation.”

—

“Team bonding weekend!” he announced in the New Avengers group chat like it was to pile a group of super-operatives and Bob into a rented cabin in the woods for a little R&R. 

Yelena immediately called dibs on making the s’mores and threatened anyone who brought off-brand marshmallows.

Bob asked if the cabin had satellite TV.

Ava sent a thumbs-up and a gif alluding to arson.

Alexei promised “memorable Soviet campfire tales.”

And Bucky was both extremely nervous and cautiously hopeful. Maybe this was the break he needed— a moment for you to see him outside the chaos. 

Plus, John was undeterred. Because this wasn’t about s’mores or a holiday. This was about you and Bucky finally getting your heads out of your asses and realising you were cosmically meant for each other.

The centerpiece of his romantic heist was one single strategically placed bed. 

He got there early and rigged the room assignment, going so far as to fake a DO NOT USE sign on the air mattress. He removed the backup cot and hid it in the woods. 

It was all going to work. Maybe you would get a confession. Maybe a kiss under the stars.

What he didn’t account for was your complete and utter, soul-crushing obliviousness.

—

When you got to the cabin and walked into the room, you took one look at the bed, then looked at Bucky—already slightly pink in the ears—and then just shrugged.

“Two seater,” you said, tossing your duffel onto the small, barely padded couch in the corner of the bedroom. “I’ve slept on debris-filled floors. This’ll be a luxury.”

Bucky muttered a curse under his breath. “You’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, “You’ve got the vibranium arm. Probably not great for furniture. Go take the bed.”

“No,” he insisted. “You take the bed. It’s final.”

You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You pulling rank on me, Sergeant?”

Bucky loved it when you called him that. “I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

“Oh, sir, yes sir,” you said with a playful laugh.

The flirty tension was there, for half a second. 

It was enough for Bucky to remember how soul-crushing his feelings for you were.

—

The evening passed in a haze of awkward not-quite moments.

Outside, the others drank by the firepit. Yelena was teaching Ava how to make s’mores using a knife for a stick. Alexei was yelling about surviving a Siberian winter inside a collapsed barn with only a spoon and a shield. 

When you excused yourself early—“Gonna crash”—Bucky followed too quickly. “Yeah. Same. ‘M exhausted.”

You both entered the room and settled into the roles you had clearly assigned yourselves: You on the bed, arms crossed behind your head, and Bucky on the couch, perched like it might collapse under the weight of his own emotional constipation.

And outside the window, just beyond the tree line, John Walker lurked like a raccoon, peeking through the curtains and mouthing: “DO SOMETHING.”

Bucky didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

He just sat there until the silence got too loud to ignore.

And because Bucky apparently hated himself, he asked the one question he absolutely shouldn’t have. “So… how’s Bruce Mallory?”

You looked over, surprised. “He’s good. Actually good. I was surprised. When John said ‘high school friend,’ I thought he’d be a creep. Most of the guys I’ve met from his past are… dumpster fires.”

Bucky forced a civil nod. “That’s… great. Just great.”

You tilted your head. “You okay?”

“Me? Yeah. Sure. Sounds like a nice guy.”

You’d hoped—just a little—that he’d show something. Jealousy, maybe. Some sign that maybe he cared.

But there was nothing. Just that same unreadable distant face. 

And the lack of reaction hit harder than any rejection.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you and turned your back. “Yeah, I guess… I’m gonna see him again.”

Bucky’s voice was flat. “Have fun.”

That was it.

No follow-up. No argument. No protest. 

You closed your eyes.

And across the room, Bucky stared at the ceiling like it knew he’d just let the only person he wanted walk a little further away. Again.

Outside, John peeked through the window one last time.

You were asleep on the bed.

Bucky was wide awake on the couch.

And John, crouched behind a tree with a fistful of s’mores, muttered furiously, “Goddammit.”

—

After the fourth date, you came home smiling. Nothing euphoric, nothing giddy—just… content.

Which killed Bucky inside.

So when he asked, against every warning in his head, “going on a fourth date?”—and you answered with a quiet “yeah”—he didn’t flinch.

He just smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

John, standing nearby, turned to him the second you walked out of the hallway.

“Okay. Okay,” he started, “This is it. Emergency measures. We’re moving to Plan C.”

Bucky shook his head immediately. “John, it’s over.”

“Plan C is going to work.”

“I said no.” His voice didn’t rise, but it was cold. “Leave it.”

Bucky had reached that particularly cruel stage of heartbreak—the one where everything about him turned a little too polite. He’d only smile when you made a joke. Compliment your shot grouping briefly at the range. Nod when you passed him in the hall, and then walked away before you could see the way it killed him to be near you.

And you were not better off.

Bruce Mallory was… kind. Charming. Smart. He didn’t just talk, he listened. He asked questions. Sent you little check-ins during long missions. He liked your dark humour and never looked at your scars like they were something to ignore or erase.

But still—every time Bucky walked into a room, you felt the same electric flutter in your chest, like your heart forgot what it was supposed to feel, like it didn’t care that you’d ruled him out months ago as something impossible.

Because surely, surely, Bucky didn’t want you like that.

So you told yourself Bruce was a good choice. That maybe a few more dates would silence the crush you’d spent so long burying. That maybe Bucky would stop living rent-free in your head.

But you were John Walker’s best friend.

And he knew better.

So as Plan C, John thought that if he’d whisper the truth into the right ear, it would spread like a quiet fire until you realised what had been in front of you the whole time.

He picked his weapon: Yelena.

During sparring, he said it casually. “Hey, so, if it ever comes up… maybe you could mention that Bucky’s got a thing for her. Like, plant the seed.”

Yelena snorted, blocking his punch with ease. “You want me to gossip?”

“It’s not gossip,” he said, ducking her counter. “It’s… just, well, true.”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Sure.”

The next day later, while sharpening a knife, Yelena said to Ava, “Apparently Bucky’s got a sad little sniper crush.”

During a tech debrief, Ava pointed at you when you walked past and whispered to Alexei, “Bucky’s in love with her. Isn’t that sweet?”

Alexei, profoundly misunderstanding the nuance, leaned over to Bob during lunch and declared with confidence, “Bucky is madly in love with her. They are clearly dating.”

Which is how, in the middle of an otherwise average Tuesday dinner in the Avengers compound— Bob looked up from his fifth plate and casually said, “So I heard you’re dating now. I thought you were going on with Walker’s old football friend.”

Forks froze and chewing stopped.

You looked up. “...What?”

Bob, all golden retriever-like his enthusiasm, smiled between you and Bucky. “Bucky’s in love with you, right? Alexei said so.”

Across the table, Bucky looked like he’d just taken a bullet in the chest.

He wanted to speak, to explain, to lie, to run.

But you chuckled too quickly. Too loudly.

“Oh! No—no, that’s—you probably misheard,” you said, waving a hand, forcing ease into your voice. “That’s not—I mean, Bucky doesn’t—come on. It’s Bucky Barnes.”

You said his name like it was sacred, like it belonged somewhere far above your head, up in the clouds with legends and gods.

You turned back to your food, smiling awkwardly. “He’s just nice to me because we shoot together. That’s it.”

Bucky didn’t move. Because how could he?

You’d shut it down so fast, it broke his heart into a million little pieces.

To you, shutting it down made perfect sense.

Because how could someone like Bucky — war hero, former congressman, team leader—look at you and want you?

Even if he did.

Even if every morning with you on the range made the day better. Even if your voice could pull him out of his worst spiral. Even if he'd give anything just to hear you say his name.

But he said nothing.

And across the room, John Walker sat in silence, hands limp around his fork, watching the flaming wreckage of Plan C.

After dinner, Bucky found John in the kitchen. 

“Okay, that did not go how I planned,” He said to Bucky. “Plan E. Or F. Whatever. I’ll fix it. I swear I’ll fix it.”

Behind him, Bucky sighed. “John. Stop.”

John turned, his eyes were too gentle for someone who was normally so brash.

Bucky shook his head. “You were wrong,” he said sadly, looking utterly lost in his own head. “She doesn’t like me.”

But John knew you, so by extension, he knew how wrong Bucky was. 

—

Today was the day of your fourth date. You were almost at the elevator— you had your coat on, keys in hand, and an intoxicating trace of perfume behind your ear—when John stopped you.

He just stood in the hallway to the tower’s residential floor with his arms crossed. You paused, blinking. “What do you want, man?”

He looked you dead in the eye and said, flatly, “You know Bruce Mallory lied to get Katie Jansen suspended in high school, right?”

Your brows shot up. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nodded solemnly, “Faked some emails, told the principal she was selling test answers. All because she was gonna out him for cheating on her with her sister.”

You stared. “What?”

“And he used to smoke in the cafeteria,” John added, like that was somehow worse.

“That was surely years ago, John,” you said, suspicion blooming in your chest. “Besides, why are you telling me this now? You’re the one who set me up with him.”

John held up both hands, like he wasn’t also the arsonist in this particular fire. “Look, all I’m saying is— I’m your best friend. I know you. And I don’t think you’d actually like Bruce Mallory.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why would you set me up with someone you don’t think I’d like?”

“I was trying to push you in the right direction!”

“What fucking direction, Walker?” You demanded, very confused all of a sudden. 

“Ugh, look,” John said defensively. “Last I saw him, he was trashing locker rooms and pissing behind the bleachers. I didn’t realize he’d gone and joined Doctors Without Borders and cleaned up his whole life.”

“Did you, what, set me up to fail?” You crossed your arms. The idea of that seemed impossible, but you also knew how your best friend sometimes played 4D chess with very questionable motives. 

“I’m just saying,” John muttered under his breath, “he’s not your type.”

You stepped back and raised your eyebrows. “And what exactly is my type?”

John hesitated, then shrugged like it was obvious. “Taller than you. Broody. Built like a brick wall. Shoots better than you half the time and won’t let you forget it. Has a metal arm, probably.”

Your jaw dropped, blinking slowly.

He knew of your crush? 

Of course. Of course he knew. 

“…You just described Bucky.”

John tilted his head. “Well, yeah.”

You stood there—mouth open and brain short-circuiting like a glitching circuit board. “I—okay, maybe, but that doesn’t mean anything! That’s Bucky Barnes. He’s out of my league!”

John actually groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You—you absolute dumbass.”

“Excuse me?!”

“BOB WASN’T LYING!” John shouted, shaking you by the shoulders as if it was going to knock some sense into you. 

You gulped. “What?!”

“Bucky is in love with you, you idiot!” John practically yelled, voice echoing through the hallway. “He’s been in love with you since you knocked him on his ass in training week one! Do you never notice how he paces around like a sad little Victorian widow every time you go out with that pediatrician saint?! He just thinks he’s too fucked for you, which again: Not true!”

You just… froze. For once, you had no witty comeback.

John pointed at your chest, eyes narrowed with brotherly fury. “I cannot believe I have to say this out loud: you are not out of anyone’s league. Least of all his. You are literally his exact brand of damaged.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your heart felt like it had slammed into a wall and kept beating anyway.

“…I need to find Bucky,” you finally whispered.

John nodded, satisfied, already pulling his phone out. “I’ll text Bruce Mallory. Tell him you’ve got a classified emergency. You can explain later.”

You hesitated at the elevator door. “But—”

“You’re about to go find the guy who thinks your laugh is the only thing worth surviving for.” John arched his brow.  “Mallory hasn’t even brought up ‘exclusive dating’ yet. He’ll be fine.”

—

You went downstairs and stood outside Bucky’s door.

You were really doing this, were you?

You raised your hand and knocked—quietly at first, then a bit firmer when there was no answer.

There was silence for a bit, and then a shuffle. The. Footsteps. Then you heard the sound of something—or someone—hitting the floor and a small “shit,” muffled through the door.

When it opened, Bucky stood in the doorway, shirtless, wearing those low gray sweats that should honestly be illegal on him, as if he just got back from the gym. 

And when he saw you, his breath hitched. 

His eyes trailed from your heels, up your legs, over the curve of your waist, and finally rested on your face—hair done, lips glossed and parted slightly in hesitation.

“...You look—” His voice faltered. You didn’t need any of this— Bucky loved you as is, but seeing you go through all this effort for another man hurt. “Wow. You got all dressed up for him, huh?”

He meant for it to sound casual, even teasing. But they came out almost bitter.

You swallowed. Your heart was racing, and not for Bruce Mallory.

“I—” you started, then faltered. You looked down at your hands for a second, then back up at him. “I’m not going.”

He tilted his head. “You’re not going on the date?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just looked at you like you’d said something in a language he didn’t understand.

“I was.” You stepped in a little closer. “But I couldn’t do it.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, “Why not?”

You hesitated, your voice dipping lower. “Because I realised I didn’t want to see him.”

His head lowered just slightly. “I… well. What—”

You interrupted him, and your throat felt tight. “I wanted to see you.”

You shifted your weight, arms wrapping loosely around yourself. “And… John kind of straight up told me.”

Bucky sighed. “Told you what?”

You let out a long breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. “That you liked me. That you get weird when I talk about going on dates, and that the reason you haven’t said anything is because you think you’re too messed up, or broken, or whatever Bucky Barnes excuse you’ve decided to make up this month.”

A small, crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “He said all that?”

“Well… not verbatim,” you chuckled. “And the thing is…” You hesitated. “I never thought I had a chance.”

His brow creased. “What?”

“I thought you were out of my league,” you said gently. “You’re… you. You’ve been through hell and survived it. You’re unfairly hot even when you’re grumpy. And I’m just me.”

He stepped toward you, pulled you in by the wrist and closed the door. Your heart started racing out at your chest.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything,” he insisted. “You’re kind. You’re stubborn. You laugh like the world isn’t on fire. You’re gorgeous, not to mention.  And you… you see me. Not the Winter Soldier. Not the Avenger. Just… me.”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear.

He cupped your face, thumb trailing your cheekbone, eyes locked with yours.

“C’mere,” he whispered, barely audibly.

You didn’t hesitate. You closed the gap and kissed him.

It wasn’t desperate or frantic. It was slow and deep—like every moment of tension between you had been leading up to this. His mouth moved against yours like he already knew the rhythm of your soul. His metal hand found the small of your back, fingers wrapping possessively. The other curled gently at your chin, tilting your face so he could kiss you better

You sighed into him, hands bunching in the fabric of his sweats as he backed you against the door, never breaking the kiss. His tongue swept against yours, coaxing a low moan from your throat, and he smiled into the kiss like he’d just won a war.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, he whispered, “Tell me you’re mine now,” he whispered, “Because I don’t think I can go back to pretending I don’t want you.”

“I think…” you nodded with a whisper, “I’ve always been yours.”

He grinned that boyish grin, like the sun breaking through clouds. 

—

The next morning, the sun was barely up, the building was still quiet — too early for most of the other avengers — but not for you and Bucky.

You were standing barefoot in front of the stove, one of Bucky’s sweatshirts drowning your frame, your hair a little messy from the night before. He was behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he murmured in your ear.

“I’m gonna burn the pancakes if you keep distracting me,” you teased, half-laughing as he pressed a warm kiss to the curve of your neck.

“Worth it,” he muttered, nuzzling in like he didn’t care about breakfast at all.

You giggled and leaned into him anyway, flipping the batter one-handed while his fingers played idly with the hem of your — well, his — sweatshirt. He hadn’t stopped touching you since you woke up. A kiss to your cheek while you brushed your teeth. A gentle pull back into bed when you tried to get up. And now… this. 

Not that you were complaining.

He handed you the toast while you plated the eggs, sneaking another kiss to your temple as you reached up into the cabinet.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

Then came a little creak.

Both of you turned toward the hallway as a pair of socked feet appeared near the door. And there was John. Peeking around the frame like a kid in pajamas. His smile was smug enough to power the whole building.

“I did that,” he announced proudly, pointing at the two of you.

You narrowed your eyes. “You literally almost made it worse.”

“Shhh,” John put a finger to his lips. “Don’t ruin it. Let me have this.”

Bucky chuckled behind you, grabbing two mugs from the counter. “Let him gloat. It’ll keep him busy for a while.”

John leaned in toward Ava, who’d flickered into existence behind him with a cup of tea— as she often didn’t bother to control her phasing when she was still tired. “I just gotta figure out how to convince them to name their firstborn after me,” he whispered dramatically.

Ava rolled her eyes. “John, they’ve been dating for eleven hours.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering how she knew the exact timestamp. “Wha—”

She raised her hand before you could ask. “You were loud,” she said, as if stating the obvious, “I’m pretty sure the whole tower knows by now.”

You turned back to the stove, trying not to let the heat creep up your cheeks as Bucky slid beside you. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Firstborn, huh?” he said against your ear.

You gave him a look. “Don’t encourage him.”

John, from the couch, said, “Middle name at least! I’m not asking for much.”

And with that, you leaned into him again, plate in one hand, his fingers in the other.

If this was how mornings were going to be now — then yeah, you could definitely get used to this.

-end. 

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

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@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

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@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst @wingstoyourdreams @lori19

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23 @fan4astic

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt @softpia 

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy @buckybarneswife125 @buckybarneswife125