Haiii

It's been a long time since I posted a Loki sketch so here we go 🥹

you'd make me fall from heaven

Summary: What if Loki is a fallen angel and reader is still one? Heavily inspired in the ineffable husbands of course Tags: Fluff,banter, mutual pining and THE enemies to lovers Warnings: Saint Peter will ask about this when my time comes - this is pure blasphemy I am sorry Word count: 4.7 K Left GIF belongs to: @tomhiddleston-loki Right GIF belings to: @stevenrogered Read on AO3

You watched as the couple left the garden, both ashamed of what they had done.

“I won this time.” A sultry voice spoke from behind.

You turned to it in a defensive position, your holy sword in one hand and a shield on the other, making a full display of your wings and halo.

“Well, hello.” A tall man, with dark hair and mesmerizing eyes greeted you. “I don’t think we have been introduced.” His sight roamed through your tunic covered body.

“Nor shall we. I order you to leave immediately.” Your voice did not falter but one of his eyebrows rose in defiance.

“Or what?” A smirk also played on his face.

“Wait and find out.” You defied him as well.

A lustful demeanor took him over, “Oh, I’d really like that, angel.” He took a step closer and you raised your sword, “the name’s Loki.”

Before he took another step you spoke, “The smartest thing you can do is leave before an Archangel sees you and ends you.” 

He stared in silence, “Are you sparing me? Because if you are, I will be at your dearest service.” 

“Just leave, disgusting demon.” 

And with a wink he dissapeared in the air.

***

“ What have you done? ” The heavenly voice asked Cain, as you watched from afar.

Abel lay dead on the ground, his blood spilling the earth; staring at the crimson liquid you felt an obnoxious presence near you.

“That is probably the lowest you’ve gone, fallen .” You added a nickname for him.

Loki creeped behind you until he reached your side. “Is that a challenge, I hear?” 

You turned to find him smiling, actually smiling, enraging you. “I should have ended you in the garden of Eden.” You muttered. “I will kill you.” With a flick of your wrist you leaned your sword on his throat. The mere touching causing visible damage on his skin.

“Threatening to commit murder is actually a form of flattery, angel.” His eyes shone, “I will die happily if it means I got you to sin.”

Your sword came back to your hip in an instant as a gasp left your mouth. With tears in your eyes you stared at him; his blue eyes staring back at you nonchalantly, curly black hair falling on his shoulders and a devilish grin on.

You turned away from him muttering “just get away from me, please.”

***

You could not believe your eyes as you stared into Gomorrah, bodies clinged to each other, doing things you had never seen before. You were sent to stop it, to warn them of the fury of the Lord, but something in your belly did not allow you to stop staring.

“‘tis a dangerous place for a woman to set foot in.” 

You finally looked away and turned to find Loki leaning against a wall. His hair was in a ponytail, small curls bouncing free behind his ears.

“I am not a woman.” You muttered.

He gasped “You’re not?! Then what’s under that?” He signaled at your tunic.

“I am an angel of the lord and as such I am not categorized into the social ideologies of the bodies.” You calmly explained before turning back to the people sinning in front of you.

“Does he agree with that? Your boss?” He bumped you with his shoulder, throwing you off tracks. Exasperated, you turned back to him.

“First of all, he created me so I don’t think he does not agree with whatever form I use. And second, he is not my boss, he is my Father.” You took a step back, “Do not bump me, demon.”

“Oh, angel, he really is not your father.” He nodded towards the people, “he is their father.”

You swallowed as you stared, again. A fuzzy, new feeling coiled in your tummy. “This is your doing?”

“Some, yeah. Not the murdering but definitely the orgies.” He said proudly.

“That’s what you call…” your hand moved ahead of you trying and failing to pinpoint, “ that ?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What…” you cleared your throat, “are they doing ?” Blushing, you turned to him again.

His eyes turned red as his smile extended all the way to make wrinkles, “You actually don’t know.” His head leaned back in a big laugh, “oh, you sweet, naive feathered-thing.” His sharp teeth bit his lower lip.

Your eyes rolled as you backed away from him.

“Oh, come on, don’t leave, I can’t let you go up there with that doubt.” 

“I will ask Michael.” You kept walking.

“In the best case he will tell you they are sinning, the worst he will send you down to me.” He cut off your way, standing in front of you. “I will explain what it is and why they do it.”

“Do it quickly.”

The ghost of a smile creeped his face. He seemed to think about it for a second, then he asked, “do you know how babies are born?” 

It was your turn to laugh, “of course!” 

He raised both eyebrows, expectantly. 

“Families pray to God for a baby, so He makes it and sends it to them through the mother’s belly.”

Loki took a hand to his mouth to avoid a burst of laughing. “I guess that is a way to see it.” He swallowed and turned his body towards the multitude again. “But there is something that needs to happen within their bodies for a baby to get into the mother’s belly.” His arm surrounded your shoulders as he angled your body to face them as well. “See that?” Loki’s finger pointed to a naked man standing.

“Yeah, what of it?” 

“He has something between his legs that is different from what a woman has, isn’t it?” Loki’s eyes fell on you, his head was much closer than ever before, his brow almost leaning in yours. You nodded softly. “From there, sometimes, comes out a pasty liquid that goes into the woman’s belly and starts to, anatomically, form the baby.” 

“Oooh.” Your head nodded in full understandment, “that is why she is putting it in her mouth!” You pointed to a woman kneeling in front of a man.

This time he could not stop himself from bursting out laughing. He even took a few steps back and faced the wall to calm down while you tried not to think of the coldness on your shoulders now that his arm was gone.

“That is not.” He tried but a laugh interrupted him. After a few more deep breaths, he turned back again. “That has entirely another purpose, and we will get there, but first, see those two?” He pointed to a couple, the man was lying on top of her, pushing his body on hers. You nodded to Loki. “That is how he puts the pasty liquid inside of her belly.”

“So all these people, are they just gathering to make babies together?” Your eyes returned to Loki, who stared at you with wonder.

“Not necessarily. Now we will talk about pleasure.” His voice darkened as he leaned to you, placing his arm on your shoulders once again, but now he turned you away from the crowd, towards him.

“What is that?” 

His eyes scrutinized you, as he was deep in thought. “What do you enjoy?”

“Uh?”

“Anything. Food, music, nature, talking to Michael .” He rolled his eyes at the last one, making you giggle.

“I like music. I come to earth sometimes just to hear it.” A blushed crept in your face as you confessed.

“You sinner.” He said with sarcasm. “Alright, what you feel when you hear music” a clasp of his fingers and a quartet of musicians appeared in the corner, filling the venue with a strong melody, your eyes closed and a breath left your mouth. “That’s what they feel when they do what they do.” He whispered in your ear, flustering you even more.

Instinctively, you took a step back as you opened your eyes. Loki, in front of you, had a devil smirk on his face.

“Well.” You swallowed, “God does not like them pleasuring themselves like that.” Your words felt stiff as you spilled them.

“Well, God does not like many things, does he?” 

You ignored his comment, “Thank you for explaining your demonic doing to me.” You turned on your heel and started to walk away.

“Let me know next time you get curious.” 

You did not dare to look back and yell at him, mostly because he would then have noticed the color of your cheeks.

***

The Egyptian heat was starting to get to you, so much for angels not having bodily experiences. Your mouth was dry and you craved something to ease your hunger. Staring at the enslaved people working under the sun while you smoothly and quietly worked on Moises faith, was starting to weaken you. You knew it was wrong, you were not supposed to feel anything, but to see this injustice and not be able to stop it made you miserable; the sun along with all the evil surrounding you made your strength wobble.

You could feel Loki was always around, of course he had to, needing to maintain the minds of the slavers rotten.

For a reason you could not comprehend, you followed his aura until you found him, staring at sin with a smile.

“Hey, angel.” He smirked.

“Hey.” You barely whispered out of exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” He turned his entire body in your direction, his shoulders shrugged and his brows furrowed.

“I am just” you sighed, “tired”.

Everything started to fade around your eyes and before you knew it, you collapsed.

You woke up in a dark yet cold space, lying on a comfortable bed, a wet towel on your forehead and air caressing your face. After a few blinks, you identified Loki sitting in front of you, reading.

“And she lives.” He said sarcastically with his gaze still fixated on his book. “You know, you really should talk to your boss about an 8 hour shift.”

“It is not that.” He finally directed his eyes to you, a warm ocean blue staring into yours. “There was just… too much evil around.” 

“And yet you went to me” he scoffed.

“I had a feeling that you wouldn’t let me die.”

“Well you shouldn’t have!” He stood, enraged.

“Am I not alive?” 

“I could have done anything with you!” He raised his voice even more, “I could have murdered you! I could have dismembered you, or even worse, take you to hell and let everyone have a feast! And then take you back to heaven’s gates for your big boss to see who you ran into.” He sneered as he paced around the room. All you did was chuckle.

“But you did not.”

“I am a demon, dear. Angels do not go to demons when in need.” His voice was vicious, the warm blue in his eyes turned to ice.

“I did not go to a demon, I went to you.”

He stopped his rant to breathe out and look at you. “Well it was dumb.” 

You smiled, “but you saved me.”

His eyes closed with a faint smile on his lips, “like I said, it was dumb.”

“I should eat something” you ignored him looking around the room for food.

“There” A red apple dropped on your lap.

You turned to see Loki with a mocking smile and a scowl, “really?” 

“It's just an apple!” His eyes rolled, “just eat it and get the hell out of my bed.”

***

“Yes, lamb blood on the lintel.” You finished explaining to the family and walked off, looking for the next ones when a man reached your step.

“A bit too far this one, eh?” Loki whispered near your shoulder.

“It is not in me to question my Lord’s order and neither should you.” Your voice was filled with pride and duty.

“He never liked the first borns, anyway.” He mocked.

You turned to see him again, both eyebrows raised. “Of course hell would find a way to make this about themselves. God does not revolve around you, you know?” You asked with a smirk.

He scoffed, “of course.” 

He kept your pace and waited outside as you delivered the Holy message to all the households in Egypt. After the sunset you finally sat down on a boulder and he stood stoically in front of you.

“My feet are killing me.” You raised and stared at both your feet, red and trapped in sandals, dirty from all the walk of the day. With a clasp of fingers they were clean and you dipped your chin in gratitude towards Loki.

He kneeled in front of you and removed your sandals from your feet, rubbing circles on your soles with his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” Your voice revealed nothing as you stared hollowly at him.

“Trying to ease the pain.” He did not falter, his hands kept working on your skin.

“I mean here today, with me.” 

He stopped to look at you, dropping your feet to his lap. “Well, the Egyptians could take you hostage, imprison you or worse, marry you to some random.”

“Did you know Egypt is one of the places where a woman is the safest? I can buy land, I am free, I can divorce, even.” You explained with a cocky smile.

“I thought you weren’t a woman.” He reciprocated.

“I thought you were dangerous.” You bit your lower lip to stop smiling. “Are you trying to protect me?”

“No!” He scowled, “just keeping you company.”

You hugged your knees on your chest, “Thank you, then.” Another smile escaped your mouth.

He only growled in response as he stood up from the ground, patting his pants roughly to take off the dirt.

“Why did you fall?”

Your whispered question stopped his movements altogether, his eyes rose to yours but not with anger, but with pain.

He took a step forward, not breaking eye contact, and for a while his eyes told you he was having an internal battle.

“Because I was not as worthy as my brother.” Loki finally muttered before walking away.

***

“You can still stop this, take him to justice.” You whispered in the human’s right ear.

“Just stab him.” Loki bittered on his left.

“This is not the way.” You tried to convince him.

“It is the only way.” But the demon next to you kept tempting him.

Brutus finally stabbed Caesar, putting an end to his dictatorship.

You walked out of the Theater of Pompey, defeated, with Loki following nearby.

“Cheer up, darling. Brighter days will come.” He mused.

“I doubt it. Poor Cleopatra, may God help her grief.” You prayed, head down.

“She is not one of yours, you know.” 

You raised your face to find him standing in front of you. “ Everyone is one of ours.” 

You sat down on the steps of the Theater.

“Can you imagine the amount of filth that is on that floor?” 

“I didn’t take you for a clean one.”

“Are you kidding? That’s why I’m up here all the time.”

You giggled, “look at the bright side, fire kills bacteria.”

He scowled, “Very funny. I didn’t know you were capable of joking.” His head tilted softly to the side.

You rested your palms on the floor, leaning backwards a little to lift your face to him.

“Humans are starting to grow on me.” 

Loki smiled. “Don’t get too attached, dear, I will still take them from you.”

“You should take me-” his eyebrows rose and his smile grew, “TO DINNER.” You yelled, offended. “I’m hungry, okay? Trying to stop a murder is exhausting.” You rose to your feet, two steps above where he was standing, finally being the same height gave you the full view of his lusting eyes.

“I’d take you anywhere, angel, to dinner, for a drink, hell.” He smirked as he extended his arm for you to lean on.

“You don’t even go to hell.” You accepted his offer, placing your hand on him.

“I can still give you a guided tour.” 

You both laughed as you walked off.

***

“ ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants’ . And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” Jesus spoke with great calmness to his disciples, and you listened from afar with a smile.

“Do you think he means it?” Loki asked on your left. You scoffed.

“Of course, He does not lie.” You pointed at Jesus with your chin, leaning a little closer to Loki. “You just need to repent.” You said softly, looking at him.

His chin was held high, proudly; looking down on everyone around. He growled in response before stepping away from you and disappearing.

***

“You did this, didn’t you?” You asked Loki with tears in your eyes.

He stood beside you, his hair a bit longer than before, wearing a green tunic that made his eyes pop and his skin even paler.

“Oh, no angel, that was not me.” His hand cradled your cheek to wipe away a tear.

“Then who else could have done this?!” Your tears kept falling as you watched the man you had been sent to take care of, be tortured and killed.

“I’m afraid it was your boss, darling.” 

You turned to see Loki, enraged, “No, He sent his son to teach humans the holy word, he did not sent his son to-“

“Die for their sins? That was the whole plan.” 

“I don’t understand.” You covered your eyes with your hands.

“Don’t worry your divine little head with that, you don’t have to understand, you just have to obey.” Although there was hatred in his words, he sounded sincere and kind, somehow. “What happened to him, anyway?” Loki asked, as you both stared at the man being nailed to a wooden cross.

“Mm?” Your eyebrows rose as you turned to face the demon next to you.

“The big guy. Ages ago he would’ve torn this place to ashes for much less.” 

You smirked, “yeah, or under water.”

Loki laughed, “or filled it with, what were those awful bugs?”

“Locusts!” You yelled with a smile and his smirk softened. “Yeah… I guess parenthood made him softer.” Your arms crossed on your chest.

“Wanna grab a drink? You don’t have to see this, y’know?” You looked once again and saw how the cross was slowly lifted. Your eyes closed instantly.

“Yes, but-“ you bit your lower lip anxiously, “I don’t have any money.” Loki rolled his eyes with a smirk and before he spoke you continued, “And I can not just make it appear, it’s… against the rules.” 

“Of course, modesty and all.” He laughed, “Don’t worry, angel. It 's on me. Now and every other time you allow me.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to guide you through the crowd.

***

You looked at Loki from afar, a bunch of people were sitting around him while he showed them a book and explained what was inside.

He raised his eyes to you eventually, with a smile you dipped your chin in a gesture of challenge. After an hour, he finished his lesson by giving all the people a book and then walked to you.

“What brings you to America, angel?” 

“Evangelization, of course.” You smiled at him. “You?”

“Same thing, I’m afraid.”

“Is that why you gave them books? Are they your disciples?” 

“Sort of.” 

“But you were teaching them how to read, you dirty liar!” You accused him with a smile.

“Well, technically, it is a sin for them to know how to read.”

You busted out laughing, “no it’s not!” 

“Your people say it is!”

“Well they are obviously wrong! I wonder whose work it is that got them thinking some humans are better than others!” 

He smirked, “Point taken. But you are still losing, angel.” 

You took a step closer to him with a seductive smirk, “How is having a demon doing good deeds losing?” 

“So you know this is wrong? How has your boss not sent them a message that this is wrong?” 

“He does not communicate with them like before, you know that. His message was loud and clear with Christ and He has given them free will, the shall be judged in the afterlife.” The air of holy and perfection came back to you, making Loki roll his eyes. “You, on the other hand, seem to have understood Christ’s message perfectly.” The corners of your lips tilted upwards.

“I am going against your own rules.” Loki gritted.

You scoffed, “Whatever floats your boat, love.” And with the same seductive smirk, you walked away.

“You calling me love certainly does.” 

You did not turn back.

***

“What is that?” You pointed at the shiny chain around Loki’s neck.

“Oh, this? Is called jewelry.” 

“Is it ornamental?” You took a step forward to inspect it closely. 

“Yes and no. It is very expensive.” He pulled it from your fingers to put it back into place. “You see humans found out that the big guy left some shiny rocks down here and they are making these out of those.” He extended his hands to show some other metals around his fingers. “Only kings and queens use them.” He gave you one to inspect.

You fiddled it while you laughed, “but you are no king, you’re the lowest being in the universe!” 

“I may have fallen, but I kept my title.” He snatched back and put it on again. “I am still a Prince. And I brought you one.” He searched in his pocket and extended a golden chain with a dangling charm.

“What is this?” You looked at it, there were two lines, one horizontal and one vertical, against each other. The horizontal was slightly shorter than the vertical.

“It is what your followers use to identify each other nowadays.” 

Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand, “but what does it mean?” You look back at Loki.

“It symbolizes the cross where Jesus died.” He calmly explained.

“IT WHAT?” You tossed it away but Loki catched it gracefully. “That is AWFUL. Why would they choose the Lord’s most traumatic event as a way to identify their religious beliefs?” You gasped in horror. “This is your doing, Loki.” You pointed a finger at him.

The corners of his mouth quirked up, “I’m afraid I can not take credit for that.” He extended his hand with the chain to you again. “Use it, let them see you as one of them. Maybe they will even start following the rules more closely led by your example.” His eyebrows perked up in a quiet petition. You only nodded.

He walked to your back, you lifted your hair as he clasped the thin, golden chain around your neck.

“It is quite pretty, though. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it, angel.” He whispered in your ear.

***

“What are you wearing?” Loki scowled.

He stood in front of you with a full black outfit, as usual.

“My-my tunic.” You looked down on you, blushing. “Why?”

“You will draw attention.” He clasped his fingers and your white tunic turned into a red velvet dress, the bodice was tight lining your waist and breasts, with golden embroidered details, while the skirt’s details were in a darker shade of red. 

“What are you doing?!” You gasped at the change. “What is this?!” Your open hands signaling down your body.

“It is my treat to you.” A devilish grin adorned his face, “although I can’t say it’s not for me too.” His eyes wandered your body.

“Oh and this color!” You finally touched the fabric, changing its color to a light blue and white details and a much more loose bodice. “Much better.”

Loki pursed his lips in disapproval. “Be careful, let’s hope the King does not see you and desires you to marry.” He offered his arm to you, gracefully you placed your hand on the inside of his elbow and let him guide you through the street.

You chuckled “Henry the Eight is married already, perhaps since it is an alliance blessed by God you did not notice.” You added smugly.

With a smile on his face, Loki raised your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. “Soon enough you will know what I mean, dear.”

You both walked through the London streets looking for a decent looking tavern to share a drink.

“So what have you been up to lately?” You asked, lifting a golden goblet to your lips.

“The usual, you know, tempting.” A charming smile adorned his face. “You?” 

“The opposite, of course.” You smiled as well, “your 

brother asked me about you the other day.”

Loki nearly spat his drink, still coughing, he asked, “pardon me?” 

You tilted your head to the side with a smug smile.

“And what does my dear brother say?” 

“He is very surprised I haven’t seen you all these years on Earth.” You said with a smirk and he quickly matched.

“Well I was always the smart one.”

You tried your best not to laugh but you could not hold it, and just as you gained your breath again, a big sweaty hand fell on your shoulder.

“Haven’t seen this whore before.” A fat man grabbed you towards him, but before you could react, Loki had unsheathed his sword and stabbed him dead.

You gasped in horror while Loki pulled you to him and transported you elsewhere. In just a second you were in Spain.

“What did you just do?!”  You asked, horrified. 

“I saved you.” He answered calmed.

“You killed him.”

“He disrespected you and was going to hurt you.” He stood proudly in front of you.

“You murdered him.” You took a step towards him, although he was much taller, you defied him with your stare although your breath was hitching, still in complete shock.

“Yes, for you!” He snapped, shouting at you, “And God knows I’d do it again!” He lowered his face to yours and in his eyes was long gone the saphire blue, replaced by a hellfire red.

“Then I shall not allow the opportunity.” You straightened yourself to walk away but he stopped you with a hand on your waist.

“Angel.” His hoarse voice was not demanding this time, but begging .

“Fallen.” 

You look into his red eyes until they return to blue, actually feeling the rage leave his body. You tried to focus on your breathing instead of how you felt with his digits still on your body.

“Farewell, Loki.” You sighed.

“See you around, angel.”

***

You were sitting on a bench in front of a church looking at the just married couple. They looked happy and inlove, everything around was filled with flowers. You looked with joy and a pinch of jealousy. That’s when he appeared next to you.

“Did you summon me?” He asked, sitting next to you.

“No!” You scowled, “I would never-“ a gasp left your mouth.

“Oh, you sinner.” He sneered. “What is it that made you sin?” His eyes wandered around, struggling to find it and you did not try to help him. “Them?” He pointed at the people gathering outside of the church.

“I am not jealous in a sense that I don’t want them to have it.” You quickly explained, straightening yourself. “I just wish I could too.” 

“Oh, darling!” Loki laughed, “you are better than that, you are an angel! They wish to be like you.”

“But I just want that!” You cried out.

“A wedding?” 

“No! A family.” Your head lowered in shame, “a partner to share my life with.” 

You felt Loki leaned closer to you. “Why don’t you ask Micha-“ His mock was interrupted by your lips, since you grabbed his hair and clasped your mouth to his.

He was hesitant at first, but he quickly adjusted to your pace and kissed you back fiercely. One of his hands cradled your cheek while the other sat on your waist, pulling you to him.

“Took you long enough” he whispered in your mouth.

Almost Caught

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You sneak out with Bucky for a secret date and almost get caught.

Word Count: 723

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, lying to friends (for romance reasons!)

A/N: this is kind of a sequel to "you said what?" — it’s the same vibe, same chaotic energy, but it can totally be read on its own! just think of it as part of the same soft universe 💕 hope you enjoy this <3

You never thought your most romantic date would start with crawling out of a window and jumping two stories down into Bucky’s arms—right behind the dumpsters.

“I can’t believe this is how we have to go out,” you whisper, pulling your hoodie tighter.

Bucky grins at you, eyes sparkling. “Come on. You love the danger. Sneaking out like spies.”

You roll your eyes— but he’s right. You do kind of love it. Especially when he leans in and kisses you, right there in the alley, his hand cupping your jaw like you’re the best thing he’s ever held.

The two of you walk a few blocks, laughing quietly, until you reach the rooftop of an old bakery. It’s not fancy, but it’s cozy. Your spot. The stars are out tonight, the sky clear and dark, and it feels like something out of a dream.

Bucky opens a bag he brought with him. “Ta-da.”

You peek inside. Burgers. Fries. Milkshakes. From that place you both secretly love, Cheesy Billy’s Burgers, but refuse to tell the team about, because Tony called it culinary war crime once.

You sit side by side, your legs swinging over the edge of the roof. You eat, you talk, and you laugh so hard you almost choke on your soda. Bucky watches you with that soft look of his, like you’re the most important thing in the universe. Like the stars are nice, sure—but not better than you.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “if we didn’t have to sneak around like teenagers—”

“We’d still come here,” you say, nudging his foot with yours. “This is our spot.”

He smiles and leans closer. “Yeah. Our spot.”

And he kisses you. Soft, slow, perfect. The kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Then—

You hear voices below. Familiar ones.

“Wait—this is where they get the good fries?” Sam says. “Why have we never been here?”

You both freeze.

You slowly peek over the edge of the roof. Sam and Peter are standing below, staring at the bakery’s glowing sign.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “We’re gonna get caught. On our date night. While eating greasy fries.”

Bucky’s already stuffing fries in his mouth. “I’m not giving these up.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious right now?!”

“I have priorities,” he mumbles around a fry.

You both scramble to hide. Bucky throws his hoodie over your head like a blanket and pulls you into the shadows. You’re both giggling, trying to be quiet. Bucky looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Below, Sam looks up for a second, squinting. “…Did you hear something?”

Peter shrugs. “Maybe a raccoon?”

You whisper, “We are the raccoons.”

Somehow, you manage to escape without being seen.

Back at the compound, breathless and laughing in the hallway, Bucky presses you against the wall and kisses you again.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “I’m buying us disguises.”

“…Like wigs?”

He grins. “I was thinking matching mustaches.”

You snort-laugh so hard, someone passing by stares at you suspiciously.

In the next morning , you’re minding your business in the common room, nursing a coffee, when you hear “Yo, Bucky… since when do you eat at Cheesy Billy’s Burgers?”

Your stomach drops.

You turn just in time to see Sam waving a greasy, crumpled receipt like it’s evidence in a murder case.

“Found this in your jacket pocket, man. Thought you hated that place.”

Bucky blinks. Looks at you. Then back at Sam.

“I… don’t remember going there.”

Classic.

Natasha, from the couch “Wasn’t that the night you said you were doing recon?”

Tony walks in with a mug. “Wait, wait—Bucky Barnes ordered a Double Cheesezilla with extra onion rings and a milkshake. Who are you?”

You’re biting your lip so hard trying not to laugh, you might bleed. Bucky looks at you, then back at them, completely straight-faced.

“Maybe it was Steve’s jacket?” Bucky offers. “Old jacket. Probably Steve.”

Steve, walking by “What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky blurts.

Later, in the hallway, you tackle him into a storage closet and whisper, “You kept the receipt?!”

“You said it was the best burger you’d ever had. I panicked and wanted to remember the order.”

Your heart melts. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shrugs, grinning. “You love me.”

You kiss him, just once. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Just Another Typical Day

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's just another typical day living and working with the Thunderbolts* and also dating Bucky Barnes.

WARNING: THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!

"Wakey wakey! Time to start the day!" Alexei enters your shared room with Bucky at the New Avengers Tower. His loud Russian accent echoing throughout the room, "Up and at 'em, as you Americans like to say, eh?" The Red Guardian leaves as quick as he comes in.

You pull the blankets over you and Bucky and curl into his side, "I thought he'd tire of that by now," you grumble, nuzzling your face into his neck.

Bucky sleepily chuckles, "Same, we greatly underestimated him."

"Yup," you lean in to kiss him, but there's a knock at the door this time and you hear Yelena say, "You two better come out soon. You know how Alexei gets when it comes to breakfast."

Bucky groans, "Maybe I should've kept my place in Brooklyn."

"Yeah, maybe," you giggle and kick off the blanket and sheets. You and Bucky made sure to start sleeping with clothes on after Alexei had barged into your room while you two were naked far too many times.

You two quickly dress and step out into the hall, the same time Bob steps out of his room. You bump shoulders with him, "Mornin', Robby."

He shyly smiles and nods, "Y/N, Bucky. Morning." Despite knowing and living with the guy for a little over a year, he's still very shy with you and the rest of the New Avengers.

You all meet in the kitchen where everyone is spread out doing their own task of cooking breakfast.

Today, John is at the stove cooking the bacon, Ava is making omelets, Bob and Yelena are working together to make French toast.

"Just in time! Bucky and Y/N, you'll cut the fruit for the fruit salad!" Alexei gestures to the section on the large kitchen island where an array of fruits are spread out.

Alexei considers breakfast and dinner time as family time. Therefore, he makes sure everyone cooks and eats together like a family. Everyone except for him because, despite his good intentions, he's not very good at cooking. Therefore, the Red Guardian sits back and lets everyone else do the work while he scrolls on his phone.

You and Bucky stand beside each other, cutting your respective fruits and tossing them into the large bowl. Bucky hums to the music softly playing in the background and you sway to the music.

You also hear Ava and John arguing at the stove, "I just don't understand how you don't like scrambled eggs?" Ava says in disbelief.

"I just don't like the texture!"

"Most people usually say that about sunny side eggs."

"Well I'm not most people!"

You tune them out because arguments and bantering is very typical with this group. You weren't there when the group was first formed, but you take everyone's word for it when they say that they all tried to kill each other in the beginning.

Honestly sometimes it still seems like they're trying to kill each other.

You clear your throat and speak up, "So, John, you excited for visitation in a few days?"

John's wife, Olivia, had filed for divorce and got full custody of their son. Bucky smirks at you, you often played mediator when members of the group began to argue.

John clears his throat, "Yeah. I'm meeting them at the park again. He-He's getting used to me again, which is nice."

You nod, "One step at a time. Just gotta continue to show that you still love and care for him. You got this."

"Thanks," John murmurs.

"Dang it," you hear Bob say and you look to the other side of the kitchen island. He has egg all over his hand.

Yelena chuckles, "It's okay. At least you got it in the bowl this time."

"You good, Robby?" you ask him with a smile.

Bob sighs, "I've been watching a lot of cooking shows recently so I wanted to try cracking an egg with one hand."

You chuckle, "Not everyone gets it on the first try. Bucky sucks at cracking eggs. Gets shell bits in 'em every single time." You look at your boyfriend with a teasing smirk.

Bucky groans, "Must you always-"

"Yes, because it's funny and adorable," you kiss his cheek and it makes Yelena gag.

"You two are cute and disgusting. I hate you guys."

You throw her a wink, "Love you too, Lena."

The rest of breakfast prep continues with more banter and a few burnt bacon strips, but, overall, a success.

Everything is plated on the table that you're all sat around. Bucky serves you your food first then grabs his own food. You all eat and chat with each other, enjoying the normal morning you have before the business of work and saving the day hits you all.

You look around the table with a grateful gleam in your eyes. You're happy you joined this band of misfits turned heroes.

(A/N: AVENGERS TOWER FICS ARE SOOOOO BACK!)

Everything's Just Perfect

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: Yes

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Bucky's ex-wife and you always seem to be there whenever he needs you.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!!

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

“So…” John groaned, slumping against a cracked brick wall. Blood trickled from a cut near his hairline, and ash streaked his jaw like war paint. He held up what was left of his shield — warped, twisted, folded . “What now? Because we just got annihilated.”

“No shit,” Ava muttered, spitting dust from her mouth and flicking a burned scrap of fabric from her sleeve. Her split lip had swollen, and she could feel bruises blooming across her ribs. “I say every man for themselves. Bob’s gone full horror movie. This was fun — goodbye.”

She turned into the lingering smoke, already half-vanished — until Yelena’s voice cut through like a knife.

“We can’t leave him.”

Ava stopped, shoulders stiff. “Leave who? That wasn’t Bob back there. That was... I don’t even know what that was.” She turned, folding her arms. “Definitely not the guy who saved us.”

“No,” Yelena said, voice tight. “But he’s still in there. Somewhere.”

“Unless one of you has a secret anti-god laser in your back pocket,” Ava snapped, “what exactly is your plan?”

“I don’t have one yet,” Yelena admitted, stepping forward anyway. “But we’re not leaving him. Not like this.”

Alexei groaned and collapsed dramatically onto a half-shattered bench, which cracked under his weight. “If we go back in there, I need... at least ten minutes. And a cortisone shot. Maybe a priest.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Let me stretch, drink some water, and then we finish him.”

“We’re not finishing him,” Yelena snapped, rounding on him. “We’re going to help him.”

“Oh sure,” Ava muttered. “We’ll just hug the powers out of him.”

“He ripped Bucky’s arm off like it was a doll’s toy,” Alexei added. “We go in like this, we die.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky muttered as he calmly snapped the vibranium prosthetic back into place with a click. “Happens more than you think.”

John held up his bent shield, his face still a mix of shock and mild heartbreak. “He folded it. I mean—folded it. Like paper. Do you know what kind of force it takes to bend this thing?”

Ava raised a brow. “So… not vibranium?”

“It’s vibranium-adjacent,” John muttered defensively.

Yelena didn’t even look at him. “Maybe if it was actual vibranium, it wouldn’t look like a gas station burrito.”

Alexei lit up. “I could go for a burrito. Or a taco. The ones with the cheese in the middle. Mmm. I want that now.”

John groaned. “Focus! We got curb-stomped by Bob! Bob! The shy nerdy one!"

“Yeah,” Ava said quietly, brushing ash from her arm. “He’s not shy or nerdy anymore.”

That shut them all up.

Bucky exhaled. They were beat to hell, and morale was tanking fast. But more than that, they were scared. And for good reason.

He looked at them — bruised, dirty, half-limping, yet still bickering like middle schoolers on a broken field trip — and made a decision he was definitely going to regret.

“There’s a place we can crash. It’s not far. We lay low, regroup. Heal. Then we figure out what the hell to do.”

Yelena eyed him suspiciously. “Where?”

He didn’t answer. Just turned and started walking.

The group hesitated, then followed — slow and shuffling.

A few blocks in, Ava broke the silence again, jabbing a thumb at John’s mangled shield. “So… can’t you, like, unfold it? You’ve got super strength, right?”

“I have super strength,” John snapped. “Not unfold-a-shield-bent-by-a-living-deity strength. It’s toast.”

Alexei squinted. “Is that, like… covered under warranty? Or do you have to mail it back?”

John gave him a deadpan look. “Do I look like I kept a receipt?”

“And you—” he pointed at Ava “—Ghost. Can you even do anything right now or are you just brooding professionally?”

Ava raised her brow. “I walked through a wall and saved your sorry ass five hours ago.”

“She literally did,” Yelena added, smirking.

“I-oh. Right. I forgot,” John said, flustered. “In my defense, I was the one who cut the power so she could walk through the wall.”

“How convenient,” Ava said flatly.

Their argument began escalating again — nonsense mixed with sarcasm, interrupted only by Alexei trying to convince someone to buy him tacos — until Bucky turned sharply on his heel.

“Enough.” His voice was low, tired, and just sharp enough to cut through the noise. “We’re almost there. If you keep yelling, she’s not going to open the door.”

They all stopped short.

“She?” they echoed, suspicious in unison.

“Yes. She. No more questions.” He resumed walking, jaw clenched.

Yelena sidled up next to him, grinning like a cat. “Is this a she-she, or a capital-She situation?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Alexei leaned toward John with a conspiratorial whisper. “Is she a friend-friend or a friendly friend?”

John nodded sagely. “I bet she’s way out of his league.”

“Maybe she's his girlfriend,” Yelena offered with a shrug.

“Highly doubtful,” Ava muttered.

“She’s not my—” Bucky stopped mid-sentence, face twitching. “Just... shut up. All of you. Or I will let Bob use you as a jump rope.”

They finally quieted.

The townhouse appeared as they turned the corner. It was small, tucked between a dry cleaner and an old record shop. String lights framed the little balcony, and a warm golden glow spilled from the upstairs window. Too calm. Too normal. It looked like the kind of place where people had tea and talked about their feelings — not where half-dead super-soldiers crawled in to sleep off a cosmic ass-kicking.

Bucky stopped in front of the door, hesitating. His jaw tightened as he raised his fist, his metal fist hovering before he knocked.

He hated this.

He hated that he’d brought them here — hated the pit growing in his stomach — hated that this was the only safe place he could think of. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year. Not since they separated. And now he was dragging a human dumpster fire of a team to her doorstep.

Behind him, the others bickered in hushed tones.

“Does she cook?” “I hope she has a comfy couch.” “If she has tea, I’ll marry her.”

Bucky closed his eyes. Just for a second.

He almost turned around — almost told them it was a bad idea and they should just sleep in a sewer.

But then he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Too late.

The door creaked open slowly, and there you were.

Your eyes landed on Bucky first — bruised, dirt-streaked, arm slightly disjointed, and he was holding his ribs with one hand.

“Bucky,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Your gaze swept across him, and the flicker of worry that crossed your face was brief, but real.

Then it was gone.

“What do you want?” you asked. Not cold exactly, but not welcoming either. Just guarded.

Bucky looked down for a moment. His voice, when it came, was low. Worn. “I know I’m the last person you wanna see right now. But we need your help.”

“I don’t play superhero anymore,” you replied, arms folding as you leaned slightly against the doorframe.

“I know,” he said quickly, “I’m not asking you to suit up or anything. We just need a place to lay low. For a night. Maybe two. We got our asses handed to us like ten minutes ago.” He gestured to the group behind him, and your eyes drifted over the chaos on your porch.

“Please, doll,” he added, quieter now. “I wouldn’t have come if I had any other option.”

The silence stretched between you. He held your gaze, waiting — wounded pride barely masked beneath the plea.

Finally, you sighed, the tension in your shoulders softening. Without a word, you stepped aside and opened the door wider.

“Come in before the neighbors start watching.”

The team shuffled in, dragging in a trail of soot, broken egos, and exhaustion. Bucky paused as he stepped through, eyes flicking to the living room. It looked exactly like he remembered — warm, soft lighting, a shelf cluttered with books and candles. Homey. Safe.

Except the framed photos of you two were gone. Replaced by art. Abstract pieces. Beautiful, distant things.

Then something soft brushed against his leg.

He glanced down and froze.

A pristine white cat was weaving through his boots, its tail flicking with recognition. His expression shifted—stunned, tender.

“Hey, Alpine,” he murmured, crouching carefully. “Hi, pretty girl. I missed you.”

She meowed softly and launched into his arms, immediately purring as she burrowed into his chest. He cradled her like porcelain, one hand smoothing over her fur.

You watched from the kitchen threshold. You and Bucky had agreed Alpine would stay with you — your life was stable, his wasn’t. It had made sense. But it hadn’t been easy.

Behind Bucky, the team just… stared.

“Are you seeing this?” John whispered to Yelena.

Ava elbowed him without even looking. “Shut up.”

It was a surreal image: The Winter Soldier, dusty and battle-worn, cuddling a white fluffball like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You took in the rest of them. They were strangers, mostly. Strangers who looked like they'd crawled out of a battlefield and onto your rug.

The blonde woman leaned against the wall like it was the only thing keeping her standing. The woman in the sleek suit by the door looked cool and dangerous in equal measure. Then there was the massive man in red. He smiled and gave a little wave when your eyes met. And then there was the guy with the folded shield and the “punch-me” face.

Bucky nodded toward the group. “Uh, yeah. That’s Yelena, Ava, Alexei, and... that’s John.”

They all gave awkward waves. Alexei’s was the most enthusiastic.

You nodded politely. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

They all looked like they were one nudge away from collapsing.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you offered.

“Water, please,” Yelena said quickly, her voice scratchy.

John raised his hand like a kid in class. “Same.”

Ava glanced at you, almost apologetic. “Do you have tea?”

“Sure. What kind?”

“Anything.”

You turned to Alexei.

“Do you have anything… stronger?” he asked, hopeful.

“How strong?”

“Very strong.”

You smirked. “Got it.” Then disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment you were out of sight, all heads turned to Bucky — still petting Alpine, who had zero plans to move.

“So…” Yelena drawled. “You and her?”

Bucky tensed like someone lit a fuse in his spine.

“Don’t,” he muttered.

John leaned closer to Ava. “There’s definitely history here. Did you see the way she looked at him?”

“She also looked like she wanted to slam the door,” Ava replied.

“She likes him,” Alexei declared confidently. “There is affection. And the cat approved. Cats never lie.”

Bucky glared at all of them. “If you value your limbs, you’ll stop talking.”

Yelena held up both hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. No shipping the grumpy soldier. Got it.”

A few moments later, you returned balancing a tray with glasses, a mug of tea, and a tumbler of something amber.

“Bucky, seriously?” you said, seeing them all still hovering like awkward ghosts. “You could’ve told them to sit down.”

He shrugged, still holding the cat like a teddy bear. “Didn’t want to break anything.”

You waved the team toward the couches. “Please. Make yourselves at home.”

John and Yelena nearly collapsed into opposite ends of the same couch. Ava leaned against a windowsill, blowing gently on her tea. Alexei sniffed his drink, took a sip, then sat upright.

“You, my dear, are an angel,” he declared reverently. “Is this whiskey?”

“Only the best for unexpected guests,” you replied dryly. “I was meal-prepping earlier,” you added, glancing over your shoulder. “I’ve got a big pot of soup if anyone’s hungry. Showers are down the hall. Towels are in the closet. Clean shirts in the basket.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Soup would be heavenly,” John mumbled, eyes already closing.

You gave a small smile and turned toward the kitchen again.

Bucky hesitated, gently placing Alpine down as she curled onto a throw pillow. Then he followed you, slow and quiet.

You were setting down a basket of warm dinner rolls on the table when you felt the shift in the room. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Still, you glanced over your shoulder. Bucky stood quietly near the doorway, half-shadowed by the dim kitchen light, his hands shoved in his pockets, posture stiff like he hadn’t quite decided if he should be there.

“Do you need anything?” you asked, keeping your voice steady. The soup was already simmering; your hands moved automatically to the ladle.

He offered a faint smile — the kind that didn't reach his eyes. “Thanks for letting us crash here.”

You nodded, focusing on the steam rising from the pot instead of the way your chest clenched. “You all looked like hell. Someone had to be decent.”

“Look, Y/N—”

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, sharper than you meant to. You turned to face him fully, hands still holding the ladle. “You don’t have to say anything. I know why you're here. Nearest safe house. Not personal. It’s fine. Really.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening before giving a slow nod. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just need some rest.”

“That's fine.” You turned back to fill the bowls. “Alpine misses you.”

His voice was softer this time. “I miss her too.”

You didn't answer right away. But when the bowls were full and the bread was out, you called out toward the hallway.

“Lunch.”

A few thuds and grunts later, the rest of the group shuffled in like survivors of a disaster movie. Everyone looked slightly cleaner than when they arrived — but still bruised, bandaged, and about ten seconds from passing out.

Everyone except Bucky, who instinctively sat down in the seat next to yours.

Yelena took a spot across the table, her hands wrapped around her water. Ava perched at the end, still sipping her tea slowly. Alexei helped himself to three rolls before anyone else had time to blink.

John hovered awkwardly before finally taking a seat beside Alexei, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near Yelena again after their last round of bickering.

“And then—oh! Oh! Bob folded his shield like a freakin’ taco,” Alexei said mid-chew, nearly choking from laughter. “Just snapped it like paper!”

Yelena chuckled. Even Ava cracked a smirk.

John looked personally offended. “It’s not that funny.”

“And then—wait for it—he ripped off Bucky’s arm.” Alexei nearly doubled over at the memory.

Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth. You turned your head so fast toward Bucky, it made your hair sway.

Bucky rolled his eyes at Alexei, but when he caught your expression — real concern flickering beneath practiced calm — his demeanor softened.

“It’s fine,” he said gently, lifting the vibranium arm a little. “Reattached it without a problem.”

“Are you sure?” You were already reaching out, ignoring the way your hand trembled just slightly. You turned his arm gently, inspecting the seam where metal met flesh, eyes scanning for dents or stress damage. “Did you check everything out?”

“I’m okay,” he said, holding your gaze. You gave him a look that said you weren’t convinced. So he did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He squeezed your hand. “I promise. I’m okay.”

His eyes looked at your hand, and something flickered behind them — something like a punch to the gut. It was bare. There was no ring on her finger.

Automatically, he reached up to his chest, fingers ghosting over where the chain should’ve been.

It wasn’t there.

His stomach dropped.

Bucky’s fingers frantically searched under his collar, pulling at his shirt, then dipping into his jacket pocket. Nothing.

No. No no no.

He never took it off. Ever.

His pulse spiked as he started checking every pocket.

“Bucky?” you asked, watching him unravel. “What’s wrong?”

“The chain,” he said hoarsely. “My chain. It’s gone.”

Panic etched across his face.

At the end of the table, Yelena blinked, frowning as she slipped a hand into her coat pocket. She felt the cool weight of something metallic there — something she had shoved away mid-battle and forgotten about.

When she pulled it out, her heart skipped.

It was a chain.

And dangling from it — a simple gold wedding band.

“Holy f—” she whispered, catching herself before the full curse slipped. “Holy shit.”

Everyone turned to look.

Bucky’s head snapped up.

She held the chain in her open palm like it was glowing. “This is yours.”

He surged forward before she could say another word and plucked it from her hand like it was oxygen. His breath shuddered as he slipped it back over his neck, the ring resting once again near his heart.

Relief washed over his features — raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“You still have it,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand brushed your ring finger again, almost absentmindedly.

“I—I…” Bucky swallowed hard, words failing. His throat felt too tight.

Alexei broke the silence like a sledgehammer. “Wait—you’re married?! Congratulations!” he bellowed, raising his glass. “That’s adorable.”

Bucky flinched like he'd been shot.

The silence that followed was very loud.

He looked at you again — the weight of everything unspoken between you crashing back in all at once — then abruptly stood.

He didn’t say anything.

He just left the room, Alpine trailing after him as the others watched, stunned.

“Did I…” Alexei frowned. “Did I say something wrong? Is that not a wedding ring?”

Yelena sighed, rubbing her temple. “We’re gonna need way more soup.”

“Uh… we’re not married anymore,” you whispered, and the air in the room seemed to shift.

Everyone went quiet. You could feel the weight of their stares settle on you like a spotlight, but you didn’t look back. You just stood, heart pounding, and walked out of the room — your feet already knowing where to go.

Of course you knew where he was.

You and Bucky had lived in this house together for two years before everything fell apart. The bones of the place hadn’t changed — not the layout, not the memories buried in each room. And especially not the basement.

You made your way downstairs, the air cooler, quieter. The moment your foot hit the last step, he spoke.

“You kept everything the same,” Bucky said, his voice low but clear. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was you.

You crossed the room and slowly sat next to him on the old couch, the one you both used to fall asleep on watching bad movies. The cushions were still slightly sunken on his side.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice gentle. “It was our home. It felt wrong moving your things…changing your designs.”

Silence filled the space between you. Not heavy — just full. The muffled sound of the team arguing upstairs drifted down: something about dishes, someone calling someone a jackass.

“They’re a good bunch,” you murmured. “Very entertaining, too.”

Bucky let out a quiet, tired laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

Your eyes drifted to the chain around his neck — barely visible, but there.

“You kept the ring,” you said softly, watching him tense just slightly.

He nodded slowly, the admission coming with a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I did.”

“Why?”

He finally turned to face you, eyes tired but sincere. “It helps me. Grounds me. I didn’t have much left to fight for after Steve left. But then there was you. And that ring… it gave me comfort. Protection, in a weird way. It became my good luck charm. I couldn’t get rid of it after the divorce. I didn’t want to.”

You felt your chest tighten, but you gave him a small, sad smile. “So you’ve been wearing it around your neck this whole time?”

He nodded again, this time more slowly. “Every damn day,” he admitted, dragging a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t take it off. It’s stupid, I know. Makes me look like a fool.”

You shook your head and stood up, walking to the cabinet on the far wall. He watched you with guarded curiosity as you pulled out a small, velvet box and returned to the couch.

“You’re not a fool,” you said gently. You opened the box and held it out to him. “I couldn’t get rid of mine either. Every time I tried, it felt wrong, like throwing away something sacred."

His gaze dropped to the ring in your fingers, and his throat tightened. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours again.

“I really wanted our marriage to work,” he said, the words coming out like a confession.

“I know you did.”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“I know you are.” You reached for his hand and held it. It still felt the same — steady, calloused, familiar. “You needed to find yourself, Buck. I should’ve understood. Everything was changing so fast. Steve died. Sam had the shield. Walker was Captain America for a minute. And then… you got into politics. You’re actually a congressman now.”

He let out a breath that was half-scoff, half-laugh.

“I couldn’t keep up,” you continued. “And that was on me.”

“No. It was on me,” he said firmly. “I didn’t prioritize your feelings. I kept shutting you out — thinking I was protecting you. You were right to divorce me. I wasn’t a good husband.”

You looked at him — really looked at him — and shook your head.

“Bucky, no. You were an amazing husband. You just had things to work through. And I pushed myself aside instead of speaking up.”

You leaned in and wrapped your arms around him. The embrace felt effortless. Like no time had passed.

His arms went around you instantly, like they never forgot how.

“I’m also sorry,” you whispered.

Bucky’s laugh was soft and bitter. “What the hell happened to us?”

“I don’t really know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” He pressed his face into your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to survive. Alpine purred softly at your feet, curling between your legs.

And for a while, it was enough.

Peaceful. Quiet. Just the two of you and the cat you shared, back in a place that still remembered love.

And then—

CRASH.

You both jumped slightly at the loud clatter upstairs.

“Did you seriously just break their bowl?” John’s voice rang out, horrified.

“Well, if you think you can do better, then help me wash the dishes, Walker!” Ava snapped back.

You giggled, forehead still resting against Bucky’s shoulder. “We should go before they break more of our dishes.”

He smiled — a real one, one that reached his eyes. It lit up something in him when you said our. He tightened his hold. “A few more minutes. They’ll survive.”

You didn’t argue.

And without meaning to, both of you drifted off, curled into each other like no time had passed at all.

********

“This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up, Alexei. You’re being too loud.”

“We should wake him up, though. We haven’t even talked strategy.”

“We can’t. Look at them.”

“They look like a cute, happy family.”

“We should take a picture.”

The shutter sound was loud in the quiet room, with the flash blinding all of them.

Bucky blinked awake, eyes adjusting slowly. There was warmth on his lap — Alpine, purring softly. And in his arms, still tucked close, was you.

For a second, he didn’t move.

This was what peace felt like. This was home.

“You woke him up,” Yelena hissed. “Seriously, Dad, turn off the flash and the sound!”

Bucky looked at them — bleary-eyed and still half-asleep — and his expression dropped into something flat and dangerous.

“I’m going to give you ten seconds to leave,” he said calmly, voice low and sharp as a blade. “And if you don’t… Bob will be the least of your problems.”

The team scrambled out of the room like they’d seen a ghost.

He sighed, then looked back down at you — just as you stirred.

You blinked yourself awake slowly, eyes meeting his. He braced himself, just for a second, wondering if you’d pull away. Regret it. Pretend none of it happened.

But you didn’t.

You just smiled sleepily, and snuggled closer.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured, reaching over to pat Alpine, who purred louder.

“Everything’s just perfect,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And for once, maybe for the first time in forever, Bucky believed that was true.

shall I? SHALL. I.

chill, Loki x GN!Reader

A/N: here to post a super duper quick oneshot in between my studying for finals. I couldn't resist this one, and it's very self indulgent as I deal with another bout of anxiety pains. Still, even if it's not particularly relatable to everyone, I hope it is still entertaining enough to be enjoyed <33 I hope to be back soon with more!

thank you to @cafekitsune for my usual choice of dividers! :)

(we don't get enough soft Loki smiles, okay? Loki's literally just a girl, this diva needs to smile more)

ALSO!!!

TW/CW: mentions to anxiety here!! Not a panic attack or anything, but reader is mentioned to be actively dealing with it and is dealing with anxiety related muscle tension

It was a loud thrum inside of you. You usually explained it as it being in your head, but you also felt it in the aches all over your body, your tense shoulders, in the feeling of your heart sitting heavy and uncomfortable in your chest. Every day felt like a new development. Some days, heat worked to ease the tension. Other days, it didn’t, and you had to sit there and let the uneasiness interweave itself with your being. Anxiety sucked.

For the past few days, you’d been dealing with really bad tension in the shoulders and neck. Whilst heat didn’t seem to be helping, ice was. So here you were, laying in bed on a weekend, an ice pack on the back of your neck easing the tension and the slight dizziness that came with it, your two worst companions lately.

“… What in the Norns?”

You  startle at the unexpected voice of your partner, Loki. The door to your bedroom was slightly open, and as he’d been walking by, he saw you lying on your stomach, ice pack on the back of your neck. You didn’t understand his offense.

“What is it?”

“What-” He scoffs. “What is it? Is that an ice pack, dearest?”

“Yes…? Are we cross with them at the moment?”

“Well, I might be amenable to that now.” He huffs, pointedly entering the bedroom and closing the door behind himself, as if to keep this entire conversation under wraps.

“What are you doing, my love?”

“… Icing my neck.” You say dumbly. You were clearly missing something. “I’m all tense again and anxious deep inside and it’s like churning upwards-” You cut your rambling off. Sometimes it felt like no one truly could understand what it was like. Especially because it was so different from person to person, too.

He sighs, moving to sit on the edge of your bed, a hand on your lower back. You can see his lip twitch briefly when you mention how tense you are, but he schools it, opting to be mature. For now.

“I am sorry you feel that way once again, my love.” He rubs your back gently. “But I am also deeply offended by your choice of tool this time around.”

You turn your head back around to look at him curiously, eyebrow raised.

He sighs dramatically, looking up to the ceiling briefly.

“You have chosen to use a measly packet of frozen, quickly melting, gelatinous mixture to ease your pains. Have you forgotten who you share your wonderful bed with every night?” He mirrors your raised eyebrow. A challenge.

Feeling particularly tired and drained, you can’t exactly figure out what he’s criticizing now.

“… You wanted me to use the bag of peas instead…? More surface are?”

He huffs indignantly.

“No. You have a wonderful, powerful, attractive, intelligent God in your bed, my darling.” He sits up higher as he talks, looking all proud. “What’s more, is that I am a Jotun. Or did your clever, delicious mind opt to forget that piece of information for today?”

As he talks, he leans over, pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss to your right shoulder blade.

“Loki… I know that. But this is a silly problem. Nothing too serious, and you always claim you’re ‘too busy’ to do stuff around the house.” You say gently, sighing with relief as you move the ice pack slightly to the left, letting it hit a new part of your neck.

He looks at the gel pack as if it has personally insulted his choice of Asgardian garb one too many times throughout his long life.

“My darling…” He croons, putting on that charming tone he likes to use when he wants to get out of something. Another kiss to your shoulder blade. “I don’t do things around the house because I am a God. And a Prince, if we must be specific. But you… I would do anything for you. What’s more, I love to do you.” He speaks slowly, the last bit evidently making him grin.

You huff, not dignifying him with a response to that salacious comment.

“That’s great, baby, but what are you offering here?”

“What am I offering? I am offering to be a mortal’s ‘ice pack’. You should be very, very honoured. Kneeling at my feet, even.” He murmurs.

“Maybe later.” You quip back dryly, turning back to rest your cheek against the pillow.

He makes an unhappy sound, and suddenly, the weight of the ice pack disappears from the back of your neck. Your hand reaches for it, trying to find it, when Loki’s suddenly finds yours.

“Do not fret, dearest. Your favourite little ice pillow is back in your freezing compartment.” He explains calmly, fingers interlacing with yours, his lips suddenly kissing your knuckles, too.

“It’s called a freezer, Loki.”

“Mm.” He hums noncommittally. “Do you still ache?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad.”

“Well, with the ice having abandoned you, I suppose I must rise to the challenge.” He sighs again, almost sadly, as if to express how difficult his life is.

As if he doesn’t lounge around your place like a cat every day.

“You’re the one who made the pack disappear, it’s literally your doing-”

“Shhh, shh, shh, shh.” He shushes you, petting your head like a mother would do to a fussy babe.

You feel almost offended enough to hit his chest or something. But he wouldn’t even care. In fact, he’d like it.

“Fret not, my dearest, sweetest love. You are in the hands of an expert masseur.”

“Lucky me. This won’t end in sex, though.” You warn him.

“Well… not before I’ve even started, no.” He agrees, chuckling softly at his wit.

Just as the back of your neck has started to go back to room temperature and you’ve eased your face back into the pillow, you jolt at the feeling of cold fingers on your neck.

There’s a snort from the (supposedly) very clever and sage God behind you.

“Oops… I forgot to warn you. My mistake.” He says with a tad of forced remorse.

He goes quiet for a bit, moving onto your shared bed in order to sit up against the headboard, letting his hand rest more comfortably and naturally onto your neck. There’s another brief fizz of magic, and then you hear him opening some book or other.

“You can rest now, my love.” He says tenderly, tone much more honest, now. “My hand shall stay there for as long as you need and bring you eternal relief. Unlike that ice pillow.” He mutters derisively.

“… Thank you.” Your answer comes softly, too.

He rubs a cold thumb over the back of your neck in response.

You both sit in quaint, comfortable silence for a while, the sound of book pages turning soothing you into near-sleep. As promised, his hand does not stray, move, or lift itself off your neck. Eventually, the cold of it even gets to be too much, and you move to reach for the blankets, intending to warm yourself up with them.

Loki’s side of the bed goes quiet, and his hand lifts off your neck. He tuts softly.

“What is it now, dearest? Are you cold, now?” He teases softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the cold skin of your neck. He could never resist.

“Mmhmm. Thank you for your services, babe, but I think that was enough for now.” You reply, still feeling a tad bit sleepy.

You pull the covers over yourself, and lay down with the intent of a nap. Your peace doesn’t last long at all, before Loki slides in beneath the covers with you, hands seeking you out and grasping at you. He attaches himself to you like a barnacle, and you can’t help your sleepy smile.

“I thought you were reading…?” You say lazily, words slow and tired.

“Well, yes, but I’ve read that story hundreds of times. It’s centuries old, darling. You are not.” He flirts, kissing your jaw.

“No, but you are.” You snort.

“I see how it is. I was going to offer you a massage, you know. One to warm you up, now that it’s clear just how sensitive you are to temperatures. Mortals… why was I even surprised?” He sighs. “That offer is certainly off the table now that you have called me old.”

He goes quiet again, and you nearly manage to fall back asleep. But of course, he goes back to talking all of a sudden.

“Might I remind you how very delightful I am as a bed partner, my love? Hm? Might I? We are formidable together. Truly. A true menace to your neighbors’ peace and respite. But yes… my mistake, of course. I am old.” He whispers into your ear, the quiet of it not at all enough to stifle his apparent offense.

“… Sorry.” You mumble back.

“Yes, well… I suppose that’ll do. I can’t expect mere mortals to be consistently eloquent, can I?” He murmurs, now focusing intently on kissing your neck, clearly deeming your half-assed apology satisfactory.

“You’re getting soft.” You tease. “You’re so easy to satiate nowadays.”

“Nonsense, dearest. On both counts.” He grins, biting your neck briefly.

Change of View

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Your friend drags you along to an Avengers event, which changes your life forever...

Warnings: thirst, Loki in a silk robe

Word Count: 2k

a/n: Happy Easter, guys! I know it's been a while, but... I truly hope you like this lil' gift I got for y'all... 🤗 I never forgot about Loki. I never could. I just don't have the inspiration for him at the moment, but if I do... Well... 😉

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

"Ugh," you sighed and rolled your eyes; crossing your arms over your chest. "I can't believe I let you drag me here, Sammy. This is-" "Abso-fucking-lutely awesome!" Your friend finished the sentence. She was beyond excited; literally buzzing and barely able to keep herself from whipping back and fro on her heels and toes. "I was gonna say boring and overrated, but okay. Whatever." Now it was Sammy's turn to roll her eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/N." The woman gripped your upper arm, "Don't be such a party pooper! Let's go!" and dragged you along; past several security checks and finally inside the walls of the Avengers compound.

Yes... The Avengers compound. A month ago, none other than Tony Stark had announced on television that there would be three days open house. They wanted to 'let people take a look behind closed doors'; showing them how superheroes worked. Sure, there had been taken several security precautions. Dozens of guards, several checks and a 'guest list'. Plus, the guests weren't allowed to access several parts of the building. Closed off areas.

Originally, you would've never even thought about setting a single food on said compound. You weren't much of 'superhero' fan. You had other interests. The Avengers certainly were none of them. But then Sammy came along and literally begged you to go with her - and who were you to not help a friend living her dream? So, you gave in - and here you were.

Did you regret agreeing on this? Probably...

"Oh my gosh! Look at this! Look at the sheer size of it!" Sammy gasped as she looked around the compound; completely stunned. "There's the Quinjet, ahhh!" You didn't even have the chance to answer something, before you got dragged along again.

After thoroughly exploring the outside and watching Stark fly around in his metal suit, your friend led you inside the tower - where you got welcomed by none other than Captain America himself... Steve Rogers. "He smiled at me, Y/N! Did you see that?! He smiled at me!" Your friend was close to hyperventilating. So close, that you had to be the one to drag her away this time, in order to help her control her breathing. "Yeah? He did?" Sammy nodded quickly; smiling almost deliriously. "Uh.Huh." "Well, lucky you," you said, then muttered under your breath: "I'm damn sure he smiled at everyone..."

It took you almost three hours to make your way through the whole tower. You spent at least half of the time in the huge training hall, though, watching the Avengers taking turns in training - or well, showing off their powers. First up were Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton and Bruce Banner. Then the teams switched and Scott Laing, Peter Parker and Thor Odinson took over.

That was the moment Sammy lost it entirely. She had the biggest crush on Thor - something you didn't quite understand. But hey, you didn't have to, right?

The moment you saw him entering the 'arena', you physically and mentally prepared yourself to support your friend. "Oh. My. Gosh! Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! Y/N! There's, there's-" She wasn't even able to finish her sentence before a loud happy squeal paved its way past her lips. You giggled and shook your head. Despite absolutely being bored here, you loved to see your friend that happy and locked in in fangirl mode.

"Need my hand to hold?" She didn't answer, instead just gripped your hand like a vice; eyes stuck on the god. "He's even more handsome in real life! Look at him, Y/N! Look at him!" You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I am looking, Sam." "Isn't he the hottest man alive?" Weeeell... "For you, yes. For me... No." Sammy didn't even seem to register your words. Certainly not as Thor did this... lightning thing. From that moment on, she was lost - and it would take several business days to get her back. You were sure of it.

After the teams switched again and her beloved God of Thunder was 'replaced' by Bucky Barnes (who was more of your taste than Thor), you decided to keep on exploring and return later to the training area. Of course, in the hopes to see Thor again.

Now you were in a seemingly very quiet corner of the floor. Jess needed to pay the toilets a visit, while you waited outside. With your back comfortably leaned against the wall, you were on the phone; not bothering the few people who passed you by.

Until you heard a soft noise. You looked up, but quickly shook it off again; thinking that it only had been in your head.

Then you heard it again... Like... running water.

Slipping your phone back inside the pocket of your jeans, you looked around to check the area. There was nobody, but the noise could be heard again. Frowning, you wandered a bit around; trying to find out where it came from - until you stopped in front of another corridor, which was closed off with a big 'No trespassing' sign in front. Being too curious for your own good, you looked around again to check the area. Nobody was around, so you climbed over the streamer to enter the corridor.

Cautiously, you took step after step. There were quite a few rooms, but you didn't dare to open them. The noise which had lured you in had vanished as well. You didn't hear a damn thing. It was eerily quiet. With a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders and turned around to leave. Your eyes were still directed behind you; resulting in your body colliding against something - or rather someone.

A small yelp left your lips, and you stumbled backwards; landing on your ass. "Ouch," you mumbled; rubbing your shoulder. "Apologies. I did not expect you to run into me," a deep, velvety and kinda soothing voice suddenly spoke from above you. A hand appeared in your peripheral vision. Certainly bigger than your own with long fingers attached. It looked smooth and... skilled.

"Are you well?"

Your eyes snapped up - and suddenly you felt like falling again. Like anticipated, stood a man in front of you. Well, standing wasn't the right term... Rather towering. He was probably the embodiment of 'tall, dark and handsome'. Deep ocean blue eyes gazed down at you. His face was chiselled with a sharp jawline and cheekbones to die for. Pale, smoothly shaven skin contrasted to the long, black curls which framed his face. They were visibly freshly washed; wetting the emerald green robe he wore.

Was that silk?

Your eyes dropped; realising with sheer shock that he seemingly wasn't wearing something underneath. You had unobstructed view on his halfway exposed chest, the patch of dark hair between his pectorals and the beginning of his abs. Half of his - most likely - sixpack was visible. The knot tied in his bathrobe around his lower abdomen prevented you from getting to see more.

You swallowed hard. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen.

"Are you well?" He asked his previous question again, and this time, he managed to rip you out of your trance like state. "Uh, um," you stammered; trying to get your head straight and back on track again. "Yes, I, uh, think so." You cautiously took his offered hand; really getting to feel the smoothness of it.

You swallowed hard. Again.

"T-Thank you," you whispered and rubbed your shoulder again. Probably to distract yourself and cope with the sudden nervosity inside you. He gave you a soft nod.

"And who you might be, if I may ask? I believe I have never seen you here before." You blushed. "O-Oh, I'm just... I'm nobody, really..." The man standing opposite you crooked his head and raised an eyebrow. He wanted to speak up and say something, but you leapfrogged him. Only god knew why you had the sudden courage to do that. Perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"Counterquestion. Who are you?"

Loki blinked, then chuckled. That is a first, the god thought.

"Well, who do you think I am, Miss...?" "Y/L/N." He smirked. "Miss Y/L/N." You fumbled with your fingers and shrugged your shoulders. "Dunno." "Take a guess, little mor- miss." Close.

You eyed him up and down once again; trying to not get too distracted this time - which was really difficult. "Um... You, uh, you look... regal. Kinda... official. Are you a business man? Or one of Mr. Stark's right-hand-men?"

The god chuckled; almost felt a bit offended by you thinking he's one of Tony's puppets. "Not even close, darling."

Your heart did a little flip at the pet name he used and your cheeks reddened even more.

"A security guard?"

The man opposite you shook his head; making his damp onyx curls sway. "Try again." "A SHIELD agent?" "Getting colder, Miss Y/L/N." You hummed; the gears in your brain turning quickly, but it had run out of possible answers. For now, at least.

"Running out of ideas already?" The man asked with a mischievous smirk on his lips. He was a sassy one. You could tell.

"Are you some kind of mob boss then?"

The stranger chuckled, "Your suggestions are getting dangerous, darling." and took a small step closer; crossing his hands behind his back. "It almost seems like you love yourself a dangerous man... Do you?"

Your jaw dropped. How could he be so mysterious, threatening and flirty at the same time? It fucked with your mind; almost send you into a frenzy.

"I-I, uh," you stammered and wanted to answer, but another voice cut through the air. This time a familiar one.

"Y/N?! What the hell are you doing here? This is- Ohmygod." Sammy stood at the end of the hallway, in front of the 'No trespassing' sign and the streamer with her gaze directed on the man beside you. Her eyes widened for a short moment. Then Sammy shook her head and quickly jumped over the streamer; stomping over to you. "Get your ass back over here! We're not allowed to he here! What were you thinking?!" She grabbed your arm, "I don't want to get kicked out because of you! Come on!" and dragged you away. She had ignored the barely dressed man, who had witnessed everything with a smug, amused smirk on his lips.

Until now.

"Apologies, your majesty," she said; addressing the tall, handsome stranger, while still dragging you along. "She, uh, she's difficult, and doesn't know what's going on here. Please forgive us the disturbance and please don't call the security. We're already going and you won't hear from us again," Sammy rambled, as if her life depended on it.

Your ears perked up at the first sentence which had left your friend's mouth, and it stuck there.

Majesty? Majesty???

Then it hit you. Like a truck in full swing. The ongoing conversation between your friend and the man fading into the background.

You may not possess a big knowledge of the Avengers and everything involving them, but you did hear of the Asgardian princes before. Princes. Plural. You just had always seen Thor on television or social media. Not his brother. Not the charming, mischievous and smart younger Odinson.

Now you did.

"H-Hold up. Majesty?!" You asked Sammy shocked; climbing after her over the streamer again. "Yes, majesty," hissed your friend - and your suspicions got confirmed. "Oh my gosh, was that-" "Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard, yes," she whisper-shouted to complete your sentence.

Your heart did another flip. You blinked; brain having a hard time to catch up on what just happened. You talked - no, you flirted with a prince. With one of the most popular Avengers. With the female heart throb. The amount of women who'd have murdered you to get into your place uncountable.

You swallowed hard and dared to look back inside the corridor - only to see Loki still standing there; watching the spectacle unfolding in front of his eyes. That mischievous, almost boyish smile was on his lips as he winked at you.

And suddenly, you felt like floating and fainting at the same time.

You wanted to go back to him, call for him - but the words got stuck in your throat; feet like anchored to the ground.

And then Sammy dragged you away.

The settling realisation that you most likely would never get this close to him again suddenly weighed heavier on your heart than you were ready to admit.

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @anukulee @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @crimson25 @icytrickster17 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @sheris532 @km-ffluv @jiyascepter @salvinaa @brokenpoetliz @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jaidenhawke @buttercupcookies-blog @vanilla-daydreaming @multifandom-worlds @smolvenger @jennyggggrrr (Continuing in the comments)

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

Smitten

Summary : Sam finally meets Bucky’s girlfriend, though you’re not who he thinks you are. 

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

Warnings/tags : Fluff fluff FLUFF! Joaquin and Sam are in this. Introverted! Reader. Brief mentions of violence. Cursing. 

Requested by : anon (based on this request)

Word count : 2.3k

Note : This satisfies my need to stay at home all day haha! Enjoy!

Sam had never met Bucky’s girlfriend.

But he had heard of you.

A lot about you, actually.

Nine months ago, Bucky had started mentioning you after you met at a bookshop. You were this hero, who, by all accounts, should have been the most intimidating woman on the planet. You were skilled and ruthless when necessary, even Hydra handlers would probably admire your work. Joaquin had read the files— how you tracked down an entire weapons trafficking ring by yourself, left every single one of the enemy in various states of agony, and managed to leave without any fatalities.

“Have you seen the mission reports? She’s so precise it’s actually terrifying,” Joaquin had said on the way to Bucky’s apartment, telling every legendary story he had heard about you. “I heard they took down a whole warehouse of mercenaries with a pair of batons. Not even a gun! She sounds mean.”

Sam chuckled, adjusting the bag of soda in his hands. “No way anyone is meaner than Bucky, though.”

“We’ll see, man.” Joaquin grinned. “Maybe she makes him look nice.”

Sam snorted. If that were the case, he was dying to meet you.

But the thing was, as terrifying as you apparently were on the field, Bucky talked about you like you were… fragile.

It started six months ago, when you officially became a couple.

Sam started noticing the way Bucky’s face changed when he mentioned you. He’d have a slight smile that softened the hard lines of his forehead. His voice would lose that slightly gruff tone, growing softer the more he mentioned you. 

And fuck knows he talked about you all the damn time.

Not just about how skilled you were, though Sam had gotten enough secondhand mission briefings to wonder if Bucky was keeping a shrine somewhere. No, he often talked about the little things. Like how you stole the blankets in your sleep. Or how you tried (and failed) to teach Bucky how to use a bo staff. Or how you sent Bucky the stupidest memes at 3 AM, knowing full well you’d have to explain half of them in person. 

And God help them all if you did something impressive— Bucky would pretend to be all casual about it, but then five minutes later, he’d be bringing it up again saying how proud he was of his girlfriend capturing four cops illegally dealing rifles to civilians.

“You’re not subtle,” Sam had pointed out once, after Bucky spent a debrief clearly distracted.

Bucky shrugged, though he was mentally counting down the minutes to when he’d see you again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m thinking about my girlfriend’ look.” Sam smirked. “It’s gross, by the way.”

Bucky had just scoffed something under his breath and rolled his eyes. 

So yeah, Sam had never met you. Between your missions and his, the opportunity just never aligned.

But by now, he felt like he already knew you.

And tonight, after months of hearing Bucky talk about you like a hopelessly lovesick super soldier—he and Joaquin were finally going to meet the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

—

They had expected you to be brutal. Brash. Maybe even a little cold, given your reputation.

Instead, when Bucky opened the door, the first words out of his mouth were, “Hey, uh—just so you guys know, my girlfriend’s a little nervous about meeting you.”

Sam paused mid-step. What?

Bucky shifted, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s, uh… not really the social type.”

Joaquin raised an eyebrow, shooting Sam a look. Sam could tell he was just as confused. “Your girlfriend?”

“Yes, my girlfriend,” Bucky deadpanned, crossing his arms.

Before Sam could respond, a small blur of white streaked past Bucky’s feet making a beeline for Joaquin, weaving between his legs and rubbing against his boots. It took a second for his brain to catch up, but then— oh. It was the kitten. Alpine. Bucky adopted her a couple weeks ago. Sam had received no less than five photos a day from Bucky over the last two weeks, each one featuring the cat in a different pose, with captions like—

"Look at her lil’ paws." "She fell asleep on my chest." "She just sneezed."

Before Sam could make a funny remark, he heard a voice come from  inside the apartment.

“Alpine, no. Come here, baby,” you said gently.

Sam blinked. That was his girlfriend?

You appeared, peeking out from the kitchen doorway. You looked… normal. Cozy, even. Dressed in comfortable clothes, eyes wide, fingers fidgeting at your sides.

The gears in Sam’s felt like they needed oiling for a second.

This was you? The you?

The same person who had infiltrated high-security facilities without breaking a sweat? The same person who single-handedly takes down crime syndicates left and right? The same woman he read about in news articles and mission reports?

You gave them both a hesitant smile and a small wave. “Um. Hi.”

Joaquin, bless him, recovered from the initial shock first. “Hey!” he said, “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Your smile widened. Your shoulders started to relax. “All good things, I hope.”

Before Sam could even wrap his head around how soft-spoken you were, Bucky stepped closer to you. Gone was the battle-hardened soldier, and in his place was a man so ridiculously in love that it almost made Sam uncomfortable to witness. But no, he was just happy that his friend was happy. In shock, but happy nonetheless.

Bucky reached for you carefully, like you were made of the most fragile glass. His hand found the small of your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“Darlin’, you wanna come say hi properly?” he asked, his voice so different from the barks Sam was used to hearing in the field.

You nodded, stepping fully into view.

And then—because apparently, this wasn’t enough of a shock to Sam’s system—Bucky tucked you against his side protectively and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Oh?

Who the hell was this man, and what the hell had you done to Bucky Barnes?

—

Dinner was homemade.

More specifically, dinner was homemade by Bucky.

Sam had to find a place to sit down when you told him that. He blinked at the plate in front of him, wondering why the hell it looked so… appetising.

“Bucky can’t cook,” he whispered to himself, utterly baffled.

Joaquin shrugged.

“He can now,” you said in a small but proud voice, giving Bucky a playful nudge. “He wanted to impress me.”

Bucky huffed, but even as he rolled his eyes, his hand found your knee under the table, rubbing absentminded circles just because. “Did it work?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think it over. “Mmmmm. Maybe.”

The usually grumpy super soldier actually grinned from ear to ear.

Sam had to rub his damn eyes.

This wasn’t real. This had to be an illusion. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was some bizarre fever dream where Bucky was, for lack of a better word, domesticated.

Meanwhile, Joaquin had already taken a bite. His eyes went wide. “Damn, Buck.” He shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and made a pleased noise. “You’ve been hiding this skill from us?”

Bucky shrugged, “Wasn’t for you.”

You turned to him. “It’s very good, my love.”

My love.

Since when was Bucky alright with pet names?

Instead of scowling or brushing it off, Bucky just squeezed your hand with his metal fingers, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

This was Bucky Barnes. Bucky “I’m not exactly a people person” Barnes. Bucky “respect my personal space or I’ll kill you” Barnes.

And here he was, letting you call him ‘my love.’

Sam needed another minute. Maybe even a drink. Anything to help process whatever the hell was happening in front of him.

Joaquin, already on his third bite, didn’t seem as concerned. He waved his fork in the air, nodding approvingly. “I’m impressed. If this is what love does to you, maybe I need to find someone, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said, “I’m sure someone, somewhere, is into birds.”

Joaquin groaned. 

You giggled, but nudged Bucky’s shoulder anyway. “Be nice.”

Bucky just grumbled under his breath as you leaned in and pressed gentle kisses to his metal knuckles.

And that was it. That was the moment Sam lost all grip on reality.

Because Bucky Barnes—the man who used to flinch at the idea of being touched—literally melted.

He let out a pleased hum as he leaned into you, eyes closing for just a second like he was soaking in the moment. And when he opened them again Sam could’ve sworn they were actual heart eyes.

—

Over dinner, Joaquin—ever the eager one—started asking about your fieldwork.

“So, that human trafficking bust you pulled off last month,” he said, buzzing with admiration. “That was insane. I mean, the level of planning—”

You flushed, ducking your head slightly. “Oh, um. It wasn’t that impressive.”

Joaquin shook his head. “Are you kidding? You dismantled their operation without any collateral damage!”

You let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh, “I just… I try my best.”

Sam set down his fork, “How many did you have to fight?”

You hesitated for a beat. “Seven,” you admitted, pulling down your sleeves as casually as you could manage. Your knuckles were still scarred, bruises blooming beneath. “It would’ve just been five, but the two younger ones—I told them to stand down but I guess they thought they could take me.”

Bet they underestimated you, Sam thought. 

“How old were they?” Sam asked.

“Probably barely out of their teens,” You shrugged. “They were involved, but… they were scared. Probably in too deep to see another way out. I had to put them down, but I pulled my punches. You know the drill.”

Sam tilted his head, knowing firsthand what it’s like. “That can’t be easy.”

You looked at him and shrugged. “It’s not.”

Joaquin, on the other hand, was still practically vibrating in his seat. “I just don’t get how you’re so effective without even being—” He gestured vaguely. “You know. Mean.”

You blinked. “Mean?”

“Yeah, like… I kinda thought you’d be scarier.”

Bucky snorted into his drink. “She is scary.”

Joaquin shot him a skeptical look. “Dude. She just apologised for taking the last bread roll.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “She’s polite. That doesn’t mean she won’t put you in the ground.”

Joaquin turned to you. “Would you?”

You tilted your head, considering. “If you threatened Bucky, maybe.”

Sam let out a laugh, then shook his head. “I just don’t get it.” He said, “How do you go from that”— he made a concerning stabby gesture— “to this?”

He wasn’t wrong. Sometimes, even Bucky had to admit that the contrast was ridiculous.

You sighed, picking at your food. “Because after all that I just wanna go home.”

Joaquin raised a brow. “And do what? Train?”

“No, I wanna be a gremlin,” you said, amused. “I wanna wear my pajamas, turn off my phone, and pretend I don’t know what daylight is.”

Bucky grinned, nudging your foot under the table. “Tell ‘em about the crafts, sweetheart.”

You shot him a look, but Bucky just smirked.

Joaquin looked up. “Crafts?”

You let out a deep breath, feeling your face heat up. “I, um. I like making things.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Like… what?”

Sam had no idea he was about to sit through a thirty-minute lecture on yarn selection.

Strangely, he kind of enjoyed it.

—

By the end of the night, you had warmed up to them both.

Sam had never seen anything like it—you were quiet, sure, but once you got comfortable, you were easy to talk to. It felt… so at odds with the stories he’d heard about you.

And when Joaquin offhandedly mentioned that he’d always wanted to learn how to crochet, your eyes lit up.

“Oh! I could teach you,” you said, eyes jumping to your feet. “It’s actually very relaxing after sending seven human traffickers to a hospital.”

Joaquin choked on his drink, but had a delighted grin on his face. “Yeah?”

“I’ll give you the basics now.” You turned, holding out a hand. “Jamie, can you pass me the yarn?”

Sam could’ve sworn he heard the record scratch in real-time.

Jamie?

The only two people who had ever called Bucky by any variety of his first name were his therapist and Zemo, and Bucky hated both.

But when you said it, Bucky just… melted.

No grumbling. No don’t call me thats.

Just a look of hopeless adoration as he grabbed the yarn and handed it over like a man under a spell.

And so, with Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, you spent the next twenty minutes patiently teaching Joaquin how to crochet.

“Okay, so start by making a slipknot,” you instructed.

Joaquin followed your movements, tongue out like it would help his concentration. “Like this?”

“Just tighten it a little.”

Bucky watched with his chin propped on his fist, looking so ridiculously in love that Sam actually had to look away for a second.

“Dude,” Joaquin said, still focused on his stitches. “Your girlfriend is my new best friend.”

Bucky shrugged. “Get in line.”

Joaquin grinned at you. “Hey, if I can’t do it myself, will you make me a glove or something’?”

Before you could answer, Bucky cut in, “No.”

You looked at your boyfriend. “No?”

Bucky crossed his arms. “I had to earn my sweater. Torres doesn’t get free stuff.”

Sam stared at him. “I can’t believe you own a handmade sweater.”

Bucky shrugged. “Several, actually.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Bucky just smiled, reaching for your hand, tracing slow circles against your palm.

“Yeah, you do.”

And Sam, watching the way Bucky looked at you, like you were the best thing to ever happen to him, had to admit—

Yeah.

He did.

-end.

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