The Catch

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Platonic!Yelena

Summary: Bucky comes to the rescue when being Yelena's roommate makes things dangerous for you.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: attempted abduction. Mentions of alcohol. Bucky on a motorbike!

------------

“So what’s the catch?”

“What catch? There’s no catch.”

You raise an eyebrow at the blonde’s suspiciously nonchalant reply. “This apartment is huge. You’re only looking for one roommate, I haven’t seen a single rat or cockroach and the rent is way, way lower than anything else in the city. There has to be a catch.”

Yelena shrugs, “No catch. It’s not huge, and I’m only looking for one roommate because there are only two bedrooms.”

“And the rent is so low because…” you prompt.

She gives you a sly smile, “I can ask you for more if you like.”

“Come on, Yelena. Roommates should be honest with each other, right?”

The Russian rolls her eyes. “The rent is low because I pay most of it. I just need someone to cover the extra. And I want to make friends.”

You narrow your eyes. “No one wants friends that badly.”

“Okaaay,” she responds, before admitting in a rush, “I may be sort of an ex-spy-slash-assassin and some people are weird about that, but it’s totally safe, I’m a good guy, no bad guys will come here or anything, I’m just a normal person living a normal life.”

Your mouth drops open, “I’m sorry, what?!”

Yelena sighs, “It’s not a big deal. And I was brainwashed to do it, but that’s all gone now, it was chemicals, they’re neutralised, no problem.”

You stare at her in astonishment, blinking rapidly. “And - what do you do now?”

She mumbles something inaudible.

“Uhh…?” you hesitate.

“I sort of - work for the government,” Yelena admits.

“You know that sounds like you’re a spy, right?”

She frowns at you, “I’m not a spy.”

“But you couldn’t tell me if you were, right?”

She flings her arms up in frustration, “I don’t know the spy rules! I’m not a spy.”

“Any more,” you point out.

“Any more,” she confirms, “So do you want the room or not?”

You look around at by far the nicest apartment you’ve seen since in your weeks of searching. The thought of living somewhere that would easily pass a health code inspection, without dozens of roommates to fight over the bathroom with, and that wouldn’t mean a multi-hour commute to work is tempting enough to overlook almost anything.

Glancing at Yelena as you weigh up your options, you notice a shimmer of something beneath her defensive exterior. Maybe she really is lonely.

“You promise you won’t be, uh, bringing your work home with you?” You ask.

She brightens, nodding, “Yes, definitely not. All fun here.”

Sucking your teeth, and hoping you won’t regret this, you take a big breath before answering, “Okay, I’m in. I’ll take the room.”

Yelena squeals in delight and wraps you in an excited hug, “I’ll be the best roommate ever, you’ll see.”

—

Six months later and Yelena has more than lived up to her promise. Your shared apartment has become a serene respite from the busy chaos of work and city life, and she’s clearly delighted to have a new friend. Your own friends have warmly welcomed her into the group, and she’s often with you for nights out bar-hopping, or happily joins you in hosting movie nights for everyone.

Yelena’s also frequently away for days or weeks at a time on work trips that you’ve learnt not to ask about, and you enjoy having the time and space to yourself. Right now, she’s been away for four days, and you’re not expecting her back until early next week, so you decide to reward yourself for making it through to another Friday with take-out and wine. Pouring yourself a glass after ordering a pizza, you’re just about to take the first sip when there’s a knock at the door. Confused - the food couldn’t possibly have come that fast - you set down your drink and move to squint through the peephole.

Standing outside your front door is possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. A mess of dark hair hangs above shadowed eyes that give way to high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, soft cupid’s bow lips and a razor-sharp jawline covered in thick stubble. His broad shoulders and clearly muscular arms are straining the leather of his jacket, and you’re momentarily hypnotised by the way the shirt underneath clings to his chest.

Taking a breath and letting your brain remind your body that this Adonis is a complete stranger, you slip the chain onto the door before opening it enough to peer through at him.

“Hi,” you say, wondering if he’s got the wrong door, and if so, what you can do to make it the right one.

His eyes flicker over what he can see of you before they meet yours, the blue shock of his searching gaze almost making you miss his low voice speaking your name like a question. You blink in confusion, “Do I know you? I think I’d remember if we’d met.”

“You don’t know me,” he confirms, trying to look past you into the apartment. “Are you alone?”

A finger of suspicion chills the playful heat inside you. “That’s a pretty creepy question to open with,” you tell him with a nervous laugh, hoping there’s an explanation that ends with him being completely non-threatening and asking you on a date.

His eyes meet yours again. “I work with Yelena. Someone got hold of her address, found out she lives with someone and is highly likely to be sending a team over to abduct you. You need to come with me. Now.”

“Ah - what?” You’re still more suspicious than panicked, “If that’s even true, how do I know you’re not the guy coming to abduct me?”

Can you blame the wine you almost drunk for the thought that you wouldn’t mind being abducted by this guy?

“Because if I was abducting you,” he growls, “this door would be in pieces and you would already be tied up in my car.”

You swallow, hard.

The man takes a deep breath as he glances around the corridor, trying to be patient. “Look, I’m Bucky. Yelena must have mentioned me?”

You shake your head, “No. She doesn’t really talk about work.”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath, “We might not have much time. Can you at least grab what you’ll need for an overnight while you decide if you’re going to trust me?”

If you’d met this guy in a bar you’d be more than happy to spend the night with him, but under these circumstances, you’re still suspicious. You narrow your eyes. “Fine.”

You actually have a go-bag prepared already - you weren’t going to be too cavalier about living with an ex-assassin/current probable spy - but as you shut the door on Bucky, you decide now’s a good time to call Yelena.

Ignoring his voice through the door saying that you could at least leave it open, you tug your bag out of the hall closet while you find her number. Yelena’s asked you to avoid calling her when she’s at work, but you can’t think of any other way to verify what Bucky’s telling you.

As it rings, you sling the bag over your shoulder and let your eyes drift to the floor of your open bedroom, where the glow of the city through the large window falls on the floor. Frowning, you notice a shadow blocking the lower corner and let out an exasperated sigh. Your neighbour seems to think the fire escape outside your apartment is a great place for him to store his overflowing junk, but Yelena seemed to have scared him off doing it for a while. As you're making a mental note to speak to him about it, the shadow moves. You freeze. Pigeons maybe? On top of the junk? You slowly step backwards, raking your mind to remember if you’d seen anything there earlier.

Just as the phone rings out, switching to Yelena’s generic voicemail message, there’s the unmistakable smash of breaking glass, followed by alarmingly fast, heavy footsteps. You spin around, but before you can even take a step, whoever’s come through the window grabs you from behind. You open your mouth, sucking in air to scream at the top of your lungs, but the attacker clamps a hand over your mouth and nose. You’re instantly choked as you try to breathe around a sweet-smelling piece of fabric, and as you struggle, you feel a sharp scratch on the side of your neck. Your thoughts go fuzzy, and even as you try to squirm out of the tight grasp, your body slackens. The violent cracking and splintering sounds coming from your doorway echo into the background, and darkness consumes you.

—

You surface slowly back to consciousness. There’s a roaring in your ears, and your body is heavy, unable to move, or even to open your eyes. You’re aware of a constant cold wind at your back and running through your fingers, hands buffeted by the air. Your face is pressed into something warm and firm, and something hard as metal is wrapped around you, holding you in place.

You remember being at your apartment. The window smashing, the footsteps, being grabbed - you force your body to move, eyes flying open, limbs flailing haphazardly and snapping your head up, only to bash into something hard.

“Shit!” Bucky’s expletive is audible over the engine noise as your sudden movement throws him off balance, making the bike he’s controlling with one hand swerve on the road. You realise all at once that the roaring sound was the motorbike, currently speeding down a dark highway. You’re facing backwards, basically in Bucky’s lap, both your legs thrown over his, his left arm holding you close to him.

The shock makes you cry out, but all that emerges through your still waking mouth is an addled groan, although your arms instinctively reach up to cling onto Bucky’s solid form.

His gravelly voice is close in your ear, “Hang on.”

The bike slows to a stop at the side of the road, and Bucky leans back to assess you.

“You okay?” He asks. The road is too shadowed for you to make out whether his frown is of concern or irritation.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, vocal chords just about working as you scramble to get off him. Your legs are still half asleep, and Bucky’s strong hand on your side is the only thing that stops you falling to the ground. He follows you off the bike much more gracefully, and helps you stand, one hand still on your waist, the other on your hip.

Your limbs are still shaky, and you feel like you have the beginnings of a hangover. “What happened?” You ask.

Bucky lets go of you. “The people who came to abduct you turned up. They drugged you, but I heard them breaking in and managed to stop them taking you. Now I’m bringing you to a safe house.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what to say to this, other than, “thank you.”

Bucky shrugs, “Don’t worry about it. There’s another hour before we get there, so we should get going.”

You nod. Despite still feeling too weak and dizzy to competently ride a bike even as a passenger, you’d rather recover inside in the warm than out by the side of the road.

Bucky’s eyes lingers on you, assessing, then he pulls out a bottle of water stored under the seat and wordlessly hands it over. You take it with another thanks and gratefully drink half in one go, suddenly thirsty. He simply nods when you hand it back, then straddles the bike.

After groggily admiring the flex of his leg muscles as he does so, you move to climb on behind him.

“No,” he says gently, stopping you and indicating that you should sit in front of him. “You might not be alert enough to keep hold of me, and I don’t want you falling off.”

You hesitate. “Can I at least face forward this time?”

A quick teasing grin tugs at the corner of Bucky’s mouth as he gestures to the space he’s left for you between his legs, “Lady’s choice.”

Rolling your eyes to hide the warmth blooming in you despite the strangeness of the situation, you climb in front of him as elegantly as possible. Although you try to keep some space between you, you can feel his warmth at your back as he leans forward, arms caging you as he grasps the handlebars.

His beard grazes your ear, his voice soothing it, “Just grab onto me if you need to,” he tells you.

You get no other warning before the bike takes off, his thick thighs pressing into yours as he raises his legs to the footrests.

—

An hour later, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open as the bike finally slows to a stop beside a wood cabin. The dense trees surrounding it would cast it in darkness even if it wasn’t the middle of the night, and the winding dirt track you’ve been following for the last 20 minutes makes it even more thoroughly hidden.

The stress of the day, lingering effects of the drug and gentle turns of the bike have lulled you into a half sleep, and you’d given up on staying alert long ago, leaning comfortably into Bucky’s solid chest, his strong arms keeping you in place. As you joltingly step off the bike, the absence of his warmth makes the chill breeze feel even colder.

His hand brushes your lower back as he passes you to the entrance of the safe house. Beside the clatter of him unlocking the door and the ticking of his motorbike cooling down, there’s no sound other than the breeze in the trees. You must be miles from anywhere.

Bucky disappears into the darkness of the cabin, and you follow, lingering at the door. The place is small - you’re standing in a living room-kitchen space that spans the width of the building, the door opposite revealing a shaded corridor that Bucky heads into, leading to what can’t be much more than a small bathroom and bedroom. After checking each room - which doesn’t take long - Bucky returns to the main space.

“It’s clear,” he tells you matter-of-factly, “Hasn’t been used in a while by the look of things, and I wouldn’t trust the bed in there, it’s more woodworm than wood.”

You nod and mumble a small, “Okay.” Now that you’re here, everything feels real and scary again. You were attacked, and drugged, and are now hiding out in a creaky cabin in the middle of nowhere, no one but Bucky and, you suppose, Yelena, knowing where you are. You don’t even have your phone with you.

While you’re thinking this, Bucky turns back into the corridor, leaving you in the main room again. Feeling even more awkward, you head to the kitchen area, trying to figure out how to make the best of things. You pull open wonkily attached cupboard doors, finding a few cans of soup and placing the least rusty ones on the counter top - you never did get that pizza. You’re contemplating the wisdom of even checking the use by dates when Bucky passes, his arms full of blankets and pillows which he drops on the couch.

“Bedding’s fine,” he gestures to it, not even looking at you before turning to kneel in front of the fireplace. Sooner than you expect, he stands again, a fire crackling into life in the grate.

“I’d keep the fire burning,” he tells you as he moves to the front door, “It’s the only heat in this place, and you don’t need to worry about the smoke, we weren’t followed and there’s no one else around for miles.”

Your heart sinks. You hadn’t even realised you’d hoped he’d stay until it’s clear he’s about to leave, but the thought of being left alone, here, after everything - it’s daunting.

“Oh. Sure, yeah.” You reply, before holding up a couple of the soup cans, “You don’t want to stay to eat something? It’s a long way back to the city, right?”

Bucky’s stare is carefully neutral as he takes in your questionable finds. He opens his mouth, but as his gaze slides to your face, he pauses. “Sure,” he says uncertainly, “Looks delicious.”

“You must be hungry then,” you joke, trying to hide your relief as you hunt for a can opener.

—

A little while later, the cabin’s feeling a bit more friendly. The smell of the surprisingly decent soup and warmth of the fire have spread through the space, and with your and Bucky’s bowls washed and left to dry by the sink, the place looks almost homey. Even so, apprehension pulses through you when you see him preparing to leave; his warm, steady presence is more of a comfort to you than it should be.

“You shouldn’t need to be here more than one night.” Bucky reassures you. “Two at most. Yelena will come get you when she’s back in the country.”

“Two nights?” Your voice cracks and you clear your throat, determined to come off as confident and unafraid in front of him, “I mean, that’s fine, I guess. I’m sure I can keep myself entertained.”

You shoot him a quick smile. But he can’t ignore the tension in your body language, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself despite the warmth. He’d intended to leave. The second he set foot in the cold, musty cabin it had reminded him of places he’d hidden out in on missions as the Winter Soldier. He’d meant to drop you off and leave as soon as he’d checked it was safe.

Then you’d turned to him with an old tin of soup and a shaky smile, and something tugged at him to stay. Probably he just felt sorry for you. And that urge to look after you, make you comfortable, that was just him wanting to do what was asked of him - nothing to do with the attraction he’d felt to the bold, suspicious person who’d opened the door to him earlier this evening. And if this basic cabin out in the forest was starting to feel more like home than his apartment back in Brooklyn, it was just because he still hadn’t decorated or got used to the modern city - not because sharing dinner with you had warmed him more than any fire ever could.

Jacket and boots on, Bucky hesitates. “Are you alright?”

You flash him another small smile that comes out halfway between the ease you’d intended and a grimace. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out squeaky and you try again. “I’m fine.” You say, a bit more confidently.

Bucky’s eyes don’t move from you, but his raised eyebrow suggests he doesn’t believe you.

Sighing, you admit more quietly, “I think I’m maybe in shock. All this is…a lot. I’ll be alright in a bit.”

Bucky nods and stomps out the door without another word.

You blink rapidly, jarred by his sudden departure, but instead of hearing the roar of his bike starting up, there’s a slam as he returns and shuts the door behind him.

“Here,” he holds out a candy bar to you.

You simply stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Sugar helps with shock,” he explains with a shrug. “And it counts as dessert. Since you made dinner.”

You can’t help the laugh that spills out as you thank him. “I didn’t expect this from you.” You add as you take the candy, looking up in time to see his throat bob as he swallows.

Sinking into the couch as you unwrap the chocolate, you hope Bucky will join you, and are startled when instead he squats down in front of you and places a hand either side of your legs, gripping the couch with both hands and tugging the whole thing – heavy old furniture and you – so you slide across the floor, closer to the fire. His smug grin is the only sign he’s noticed your mouth falling open in astonishment, as he drops down next to you. Right next you; his arm and leg brushing against yours.

“It’s better to stay warm,” is all he says by way of explanation, watching the dancing flames in front of you both.

“Thank you,” you repeat. After a moment you lean into him slightly, curious to see how he’ll react. As if by instinct, he lifts his arm to wrap it around you, pulling you firmly into his side.

You smile to yourself, and snap off a square of chocolate to pass to him. Your eyes meet as he takes it from you, and you let your gaze linger on his face, so close to yours. Bucky doesn’t turn away - watching you with an intensity that mirrors your own. A loud crackle from the fire is the only thing to snap your attention away, and you sit together in comfortable silence, your face warm as you let the candy melt in your mouth.

“Better?” Bucky asks.

“Much,” you answer. His solid warmth has calmed you, and you’re pretty sure it’s his proximity, rather than the fire’s, that’s making your blood pump hot through you. Your suspicion is confirmed when he removes his arm from around you and stands up, taking the candy wrapper from you and leaving a cold gust of absence.

“Lie down,” he instructs softly, gesturing to the blankets and pillows around you on the couch, “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

He moves to the kitchen before you can reply, so you do as you’re told and lie down, burrowing into the blankets in the hopes of capturing his lingering warmth. You desperately want to ask him to stay, but you’re not sure how.

Eyes closed, you’re unaware of Bucky’s silent return. He watches you, feeling the tension slip from his shoulders at the soft sounds of your breath and the fire. He wants to stay - to comfort you, he tells himself, and make sure you’re safe. Nothing else, of course. But do you want that?

“Are you still cold?” he asks, his voice low.

You open your eyes to the sight of him looking down at you from the foot of the couch, his creased brow casting his eyes into shadow.

“I could be warmer,” you tell him.

The next sound you hear is the soft thud of Bucky’s boots hitting the floor as he toes them off, simultaneously shrugging out of his jacket. Leaning over you, his knee tucks into the space behind yours.

“Budge up,” he mutters, a gentle teasing edge dancing through his voice.

Slightly stunned - and delighted - you shuffle forward to the edge of the couch, letting him slot in behind you against the back cushions. Lifting the blankets, he presses against you, his right arm snaking around your body, holding you to him.

Realising you’ve been holding your breath as his body adjusts to yours, you let out a contented sigh. Sandwiched between the flickering heat of the fire and the warmth and security of Bucky’s firm body, you feel yourself finally relax. As the last remnants of tension and shock are eased out of you, you drift off to sleep, comfortable and safe in Bucky’s arms.

He’s slower to fall asleep. Bucky wants to hold still so you won’t wake, but your closeness is making him more aware of every part of his body.

He looks down at you fondly as you twist over mid-dream, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pressing your face to his chest, inhaling deeply as you continue your steady sleep. Taking a long breath, Bucky tries to ignore it as the spark of a feeling he hasn’t felt for a very, very long time catches in his chest, the glowing ember of it warming him deeply as he relaxes into sleep.

—

The first fingers of dawn creeping through the flimsy curtains wakes Bucky the next morning. There’s a smile on his face and a gentle glow in his chest – he’s slept soundly through the night, and has the unfamiliar feeling of having woken from a good dream. Keeping his eyes closed to try and recapture the thoughts that were just now floating through his sleeping mind, he’s suddenly brought back to reality by movement in his arms – you, shifting as you wake up.

You awake with the same warm glow as Bucky, breathing deeply as consciousness trickles in, and inhaling a delicious scent – clean, woodsy and warmly spiced, something that smells both comforting and exciting. There’s soft fabric under your hand and you sigh contentedly as you nuzzle closer. It’s only when Bucky politely clears his throat, the sound reverberating through the chest you now realise you’re lying on, that the realisation of where you are comes back to you.

Jerking back as far as you can – which isn’t much, given the size of the couch and that Bucky’s arms are still encircling you – your eyes fly open and you freeze as you meet the supersoldier’s amused gaze.

“Morning,” he greets you with just a hint of a smirk, his gravelly voice making your stomach somersault.

“Morning,” you squeak back, inwardly cursing yourself for not being anything like as cool as he is. Knowing your normal morning state, your hair is probably a bird’s nest and you don’t want to think about the likelihood of there being drool on your face - or his chest.

But Bucky simply smiles back at you, his eyes dancing over your face. Half-stunned, you gaze back at him - his strong nose, his smooth cupid’s bow lips, his ice blue eyes - and a hot longing spreads through you. You know you’re currently in a strange cabin in the middle of nowhere, hiding out from mysterious enemies who want to hurt you - but right now that all feels very far away; much less important than the warm, muscular body pressed against yours.

A darkness in Bucky’s gaze makes you shiver in delight as you realise his thoughts are mirroring your own.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, voice gruff but with the ghost of a smile, his arms still wrapped tight around you.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back into him and angling your face up to his, “Very,” You answer softly, “You?”

“Very,” Bucky echoes, staring deep into your eyes for a moment before pulling you close, erasing the last space between you. His soft lips brush against yours, sending tingles racing through your body, and you press into him eagerly. His response is immediate, his mouth firm and giving, and you fist his shirt in your hands as you move closer, opening your mouth to his, and-

A loud, shrill alarm pierces the air and you yelp, both of you startled apart. You nearly fall off the couch at the noise, and Bucky bolts upright.

“It’s the proximity alarm,” he explains, jumping up and heading for his jacket where it’s hanging on the back of a chair. After pulling his phone from the pocket, his shoulders loosen as he visibly relaxes. “It’s friendly,” he says, turning back to where you’re half-lying, still tangled in blankets.

“Good,” you manage to respond, unconvincingly. You’re obviously glad there’s no threat, but the timing of this arrival could have been better.

A lopsided smile spreads across Bucky’s face, “You don’t sound too happy about that,” he teases, voice still rough.

You fail to hide a smile, wrinkling your nose, “I’m just…no good with guests before I’ve had coffee.”

His smile widening into a grin, Bucky nods. “I’ll put some on.”

You extricate yourself from the bedding as he heads to the kitchen area, and try pointlessly to brush the wrinkles from your clothes, hoping whoever’s coming to meet you can’t tell that your heart is still pounding, heat pulsing through you from the kiss. It might have been short, and unpleasantly interrupted, but it was the best kiss you’ve had in a very long time.

As you neatly fold the blankets, still warm from your and Bucky’s combined body heat, his clattering in the kitchen is drowned out by the sound of an engine outside, before the front door bursts open and Yelena strides into the cabin.

Before you can even open your mouth to greet her, she runs to you and wraps you in a fierce hug, “I’m so sorry!” She says into your shoulder before pulling back to look you over, checking for injuries. “I never thought you would get hurt because of me, you’re my best friend and I love you and I nearly got you kidnapped!”

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, returning the hug, “I’m fine, Bucky looked after me.”

Yelena glances over at Bucky who nods at you both before returning his attention to the coffee. Yelena slowly turns her head to look back at you, her eyes narrowing and a cat-like smile spreading across her face, “He looked after you, huh?” She drawls.

“Shut up,” you mutter, feeling your face warm, “not like that. Well, not - no, not like that.”

“Okay,” she answers with a grin, “What’s that saying about silver livings again?”

“Yelena,” you warn her, aware Bucky can hear you both.

She laughs again before the smile slides from her face. “I am really sorry though,”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure her.

“But I put you in danger,” she insists with a pout, “and I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Coffee’s ready,” Bucky calls from the kitchen.

“Look, we can talk about it later,” you tell Yelena, moving to where Bucky’s pouring you a mug.

“Fine,” Yelena grumbles good-naturedly as she follows you, “But can we talk about whatever it is you did to get Barnes to make you coffee?”

You roll your eyes as she laughingly bumps your shoulder, neither of you noticing the openly affectionate look on Bucky’s face that he quickly moves to hide.

------------

Part 2 coming soon

Tags: @yesshewrites1

Charge My Card

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: You see a TikTok of a woman who pays for DoorDash instead of her boyfriend and her boyfriend gets upset about because he usually pays for it. So you try the same thing with Joaquin…

A/N: Inspired by this TikTok.

You're happy that Joaquin is filming in LA because that means he doesn't need to be far from home. He spends a majority of his day filming and then comes home to you. It's all so domestic.

You thought moving in together would come with some difficulties, but Joaquin is very on top of everything. He's tidy, does chores without being told, and basically makes sure you don't have to lift a finger.

You must have done something good in your past life to end up with someone like him.

You and Joaquin are currently sitting on the couch together, scrolling through Yelp to see what you could order.

"Oh! That Korean place we went to with Kate delivers! Should we get that?"

"Oh hell yes. I've been thinking about their fried chicken for weeks!"

You nod and put in the order of food you wanted as well as the fried chicken Joaquin requested.

Joaquin gets up to grab his wallet from his work bag. He's rifling through his things until you speak up, "Okay, so it'll be here in about thirty minutes."

That's when Joaquin pauses, "Wait," he turns around to face you, "did you pay already?"

You nod, looking up from your phone, "Yeah. It'll be here in thirty minutes."

Joaquin holds up one of his credit cards, "Which card did you use?"

"Mine," you respond with a confused look.

He shakes his head, "Cancel the order."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're supposed to use my card," he reaches for your phone and pull it away from him.

"Says who?!" you ask as you slap his hand away.

"Says me! I always pay for our takeout!" You two begin to wrestle for your phone.

You can't help but laugh, "Joaquin, it's fine! I want to pay!" you try your best to keep your phone away from him.

He grunts as his arms wrap around you as he tries to grab for your phone. You continue to laugh. Throughout your relationship, Joaquin has very much always been more of the provider. He loves the idea of taking care of you, making sure you have everything you want and need.

Although you work and even pay half the rent of your shared home, he doesn't allow you to pay for anything else.

Slightly exasperated, he holds himself above you and pouts, "Baby, please cancel the order."

"No," you respond with a smirk and peck his lips, "I wanna pay every once in a while. I don't like feeling like I'm mooching off you."

He sighs and plops onto the couch beside you, "You're not mooching off me. You pay in half the rent and in your love and affection. You're smooching, not mooching"

You snort, "You're so dumb," you lightly slap his arm.

He grins at you, "You know a lot of people would love the idea of never having to pay for anything."

You shrug, "I know, I'm stubborn like that."

"Don't I know it," he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in his arms. He pats behind you for your phone and his brows furrow, "Where'd you put your phone?"

You mischievously grin at him, "In my pants."

He chuckles and smirks, "As if that would stop me," he pulls away and begins to at your jeans, causing you to squeal in laughter.

420 notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

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All I could give you - muddyorbsblr

What makes a princess - muddyorbsblr

Bred by a Jotun - @lokisprettygirl ❤️‍🔥

Friendzoned - lokisprettygirl

Meet cute - lokisprettygirl

Just friends - lokisprettygirl

Narratives - @mochie85 ❤️‍🔥

Pheromones - mochie85 ❤️‍🔥

Thorns - @lowkeyorloki ❤️‍🔥

Mythology nerd - lowkeyorloki

True Form - lowkeyorloki

Cold Flower - @clandestineloki ❤️‍🔥

My darling - clandestineloki

Movie Night - @cleo-fox ❤️‍🔥

Safe House - cleo-fox ❤️‍🔥

Mistakes - @x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

Established relationship - x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

Stimming Significant Other - x-neurodivergent-reader ♾

To be a good man - @ladyfluff

Library love - @proseandpretrichor

Reasons to like you - @fluffyfantasticducky

Soulmate - @innaminitus ❤️

Meet me in the elevator - @lady-rose-moon

Stop and smell the flowers - @bellesque ❤️‍🔥

For science - @elenaysusneuras ❤️‍🔥

Crimson Clover - @munsons-maiden ❤️‍🔥

Santa Baby - @thedeathlysallows ❤️‍🔥

Bewitched - @michelleleewise ❤️‍🔥

His - @earlgreydream ❤️‍🔥

The Secret - @lokigodofmyheart

Teenage Dream - @lokisgoodgirl ❤️‍🔥

Visit Me - @imaginativemarvel ❤️

Breeding Kink - @buckyownsmylife ❤️‍🔥

Into the Void - @lokispettigerr ❤️‍🔥

Flower Crown - @bonky-n-steeb

Falling for a god - @emeraldiis ❤️‍🔥

To see you once more - @dragonsfictavern ❤️

1052 - @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ❤️

Raw Desire - @sserpente ❤️‍🔥

from the void with love - @whirlybirbs bestie i cried

You're a milf and I’m a motherfucker - @lanadelreyscokewhor3 ❤️‍🔥

Just another stark party - @acciotherapists ❤️‍🔥

I didn’t even notice - @vampy-doll ❤️‍🔥

Jotun Mating Season - @aesir-alchemist ❤️‍🔥

Reality Check Series - @ohmygoodnessgraciouss

Kneel, Mr. Laufeyson - @blueseasfanfics

A Perfect Proposal - @wrenhyperfixates

Every Excuse But Love - @billionairebratenergy

James Conrad

I’ve got you - lov3nerdstuff

You deserve better - muddyorbsblr

Friday nights & hot dates - muddyorbsblr ❤️‍🔥

Keep me safe - muddyorbslr ❤️‍🔥

Not a fever - muddyorbslr ❤️‍🔥

Lost and found - ladyfluff

Unexpected, but loved all the same - @merakiaes

Don’t touch that! - @just-the-hiddles ❤️‍🔥

Caught in a love web - @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms

104 notes View Post

twotablelamps

2 months ago

WE ARE SO BACK

Game Nights

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Game nights in the tower are unpredictable.

Word Count: Over 900

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

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

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

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

51 notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

Bot Besties

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Because he’ll be away for months to shoot a movie, Joaquin gets enabots for you and himself as a way to keep contact with each other through the distance.

A/N: I wanted to write another fic where Joaquin uses the enabot but slightly different lol

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

"I can't believe you!" you exclaim with a cackle as Joaquin reveals two enabots, "I was joking about getting those!"

"Well I wasn't! They're cool and we can use them when I'm away for filming!" He hands you your bot for you to unbox.

Together you both set your respective bots up with the app. The round bots zoom around your shared apartment while you and Joaquin both giggle like kids.

"This is so sick!" He exclaims, looking at his phone to see the view his bot has, "Hm. We need to clean under the couch more." He says spotting the dust and a few loose socks and cat toys.

Speaking of cat, your cat Luna watches from her cat tree. Her curious eyes follow the bots around.

"These are supposed to be used to watch your pets, so not only can I bother you, but also my little Lulu!"

Hearing her nickname, Luna jumps down from her cat tree, approaching Joaquin, however, she jumps when your enabot moves towards her.

"Aaaww Lulu! Did mommy scare you?" Joaquin gets off the couch and scoops the white cat into his arms, "This is why you love me more, huh?" he kisses her head and you roll your eyes.

"Two things: one, I didn't mean to scare her. Two, she's a literal traitor because she's my cat and yet she loves you more!"

"Can't help that we have a special bond, mamas," he kisses Luna's head and she rubs her head against his chin.

You can't be mad though, because you love how cute the two of them are together.

____________________

You're reading a book on the couch in the living room when you hear the sound of wheels against the wooden floors.

"Whatcha readin'?" you hear Joaquin's voice through the enabot.

You place your book on your lap and look down, "Apprentice to the Villain."

You show him the front of the book and he rolls a little closer to get a better look, "Didn't you start the first one like two days ago?"

You nod, "I finished it that same day and then immediately bought this second one."

He whistles, "Damn, babe. You read fast."

You shrug, "When it's something that really piques my interest, then yeah. Anyway, you just finish filming?"

"Yeah. We're on lunch right now, but I'm taking lunch in my trailer."

"What'd catering have today?"

"Taco truck for Taco Tuesday! Fucking delicious, baby. Wish you could try them."

You chuckle, "I'll take your word for it," you kick off the blanket you were snuggled in and begin to walk away.

In his little bot form, Joaquin follows you, "Where ya going?"

"To the bathroom. Don't follow me!"

"Why?!"

"It's weird!"

"No, it's not!"

"Go bother, Luna. I'll be quick!" you shut the door behind you and you hear a faint, "LULU, BABY! WHERE ARE YOOOUUU?!"

__________________________

While away for filming, Joaquin stayed at an AirBnB for the next few months. He also took your enabot with him so you can "keep and eye on him" while he's away.

You don't use yours as much as he does, but you still check in with him via enabot every other week or so.

"Pst, baby. Psssstttt...baby."

Joaquin smiles to himself as he turns around from the desk he's sat at, "Hi, mamas. Need something?"

"I'm boooooored. I finished all my work today, so I wanted to check in." Your little round bot rolls towards him and tilts up, "So whatcha doin'?"

"Just looking over the notes on my script," he lifts up the packet of paper.

"Booooring! Take a break."

He chuckles, "Mamas, I just took a break."

"Okay but you didn't take a break with me!" you roll the bot to his foot. You continuously bumping into his foot, "Take a break. Take a break. Take a breeeaaak!"

He laughs again, "Alright, alright." He stands from his desk and moves to the floor. You roll around him, "Weeeeeeee!!"

"Is this what it feels like when I bother you?"

You stop and move your bot up and down to simulate nodding, "Yes."

"You're so cute, baby," he boops the bot.

"Wait," you roll a little closer, "You cut your hair?!"

Joaquin's eyes widen, "Shit. I forgot to tell you! They wanted to cut my hair a bit for the role." He shakes his head to show its length, "How's it look?"

"Hm...," you roll back to look from a distance and roll closer again, "I mean...regardless, you're hot."

Joaquin throws his head back in laughter, "Thanks, baby. Love the honestly."

"What? Did you want me to say like 'no, I hate it. You look ugly.' Because I would be lying! You look hot no matter what and it's unfair!"

"You're so funny, babe."

You sigh, "Okay. I'll leave you to your work now."

"Alright. I'll call you later. Love you."

"I love you toooooooo!" you elongate the word as you roll back to the dock, leaving Joaquin chuckling as he goes back to work.

162 notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

Okay, so it's been awhile since I've visited your blog and I JUST read the fic where Steve gets Bee a drum set. It's so cute and I can totally see Bee getting damn good at them as she grows up and the flute as well. But for now it's just happy and enthusiastic noise.

Bucky would make sure she has the best instructors if she decides to keep playing. Right now it is very happy, enthusiastic noise. She thinks she sounds good—just like the musicians she sees on tv—and no one has to the heart to tell her otherwise 🥹

She is an early riser like her Papa. So some mornings they know she's awake because they can hear the loud bangs and rattles and screeches as she puts on an early morning show for Mr. Tato and his people.

"This is your fault," you grumble, snatching Bucky's pillow from under his head and putting it over yours.

He laughs. Bucky knows better than to disagree. Even though this is mostly Steve's doing, Bucky can admit he may have played a small part in all of this.

"I'll go talk to her," he reassures you, moving to the side of bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. You peak out from under the pillow just in time to catch him putting on his shirt, the blue cotton sliding down his arms. The way his tattoed back flexes under the dim glow of the nightstand lamp makes your breath hitch. He hears it. Of course he does. He glances over his shoulder and winks.

"Yeah, yeah. The last time you talked to her, you ended up in the band," you retorts, ignoring the way your cheeks are heating up. It's not your fault he looks so good. It's actually a little unfair.

Bucky laughs again. You feel the deep rumble of it when he leans over to brush a kiss on your forehead. He doesn't deny it. You both know if she decided to recruit him again, he's going to end up playing whatever instrument she puts in his hands. "Never said I was going to stop her Malyshka."

True. You roll over in bed and watch him walk stroll out. There's a brief silence. A knock on her door. Her happy "good morning Papa! You hears me playin' drums, you loves it? Here Papa, you take dis one" brings a smile to your lips. You're not shocked when you hear the clack of drumsticks. Followed by the sounds of your two favorite people making way too much too noise.

You give yourself a minute before getting up. Migjt as well see the show in person. Their matching grins when you walk in and join them are worth worth than anything in this world—even your sleep. Eh, maybe. It's close. Besides your new noise canceling headphones are on the way.

470 notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

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.

42 notes View Post

twotablelamps

1 month ago

Friday Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You end up sitting next to Bucky in a casual team dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, flirting, light language, water war (because who can resist a splash battle?)

A/N: this is part 4 of "You Said What?", just some fluff in a universe where you and Bucky secretly date. It can be read on its own and doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3. im loving writing about these two so thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

It’s one of those rare nights at the compound, no missions, no briefings, no surprise alien invasions. Just a Friday. Just dinner. And, somehow, Steve decided it’d be nice if the whole team ate together like one big weird family.

The long table is already half full when you show up a few minutes late, sliding into the only empty seat left, next to Bucky, obviously by coincidence. Totally random. Totally not planned. Totally a miracle.

“Hey,” you murmur, your knee bumping his under the table. You don’t move it.

“Hey,” he says back, low and warm, like it’s just for you. His knee nudges yours in return, the tiniest pressure that somehow makes your chest feel full.

Dinner is loud. Sam’s in the middle of a dramatic story involving a rooftop and a rogue pizza slice, gesturing so wildly he nearly knocks over his drink twice. Wanda is laughing so hard she’s wheezing. Clint and Natasha are arguing about spice levels in the curry. Tony ordered five different desserts “just in case,” and even Vision looks mildly amused.

It’s chaotic. It’s weirdly cozy. And it’s perfect.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly slides the breadbasket your way before you even ask. Passes you a napkin when you drop yours. Leans over and murmurs a dumb joke under his breath just to make you laugh. And when you both reach for the same dish, your fingers brush—and linger. Neither of you moves.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen all night.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Like what?” he asks, faking innocence.

“Like you’re thinking about kissing me at a table full of Avengers.”

He leans in, voice low. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your breath catches. You blink, trying not to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t kick you under this table.”

“I’d still kiss you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks. “Yeah. But I’m your problem.”

You’re in the middle of pretending to care about Steve and Nat’s back-and-forth on training strategies when your phone buzzes in your lap.

[bucky]: come to the kitchen. 5 mins. say you forgot the hot sauce.

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. He sees it and smiles with just one side of his mouth.

A few minutes later, you slide your chair back, muttering something about needing Sriracha. No one blinks. They're all too busy arguing over which dessert to try first.

You slip into the kitchen.

And there he is. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyes already on you. Like he wasn’t just sitting beside you five minutes ago.

“I’m starting to think I’m more addicted to seeing you than caffeine,” he says, that soft smile tugging at his lips.

You walk right into his arms. He smells like clean laundry and something you can’t place—something that’s just him.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Tell that to Sam,” he mutters. “He said I’ve been grumpy all week. I was just missing this.”

His fingers brush your cheek, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. You lean up and kiss him—quick, soft, sweet. The kind of kiss that says I wish we had more time.

And then you steal another.

And another.

He groans, resting his forehead against yours. “Okay. One more, and then I’m walking back in there like nothing happened.”

You smirk. “You have lipstick on your mouth.”

“Dammit.”

When you both return, the table’s still buzzing, still full of warmth and noise and people who feel like home. Bucky catches your eye as you pass him the dessert like it’s nothing.

But you know. And he knows. And your heart is doing somersaults when Bucky leans in again.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your lip.”

You freeze. Glance at him, wary. “Do I?”

He nods solemnly and you wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Better?”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Not really. Might need to check later.”

You kick him under the table.

Dinner winds down slowly, plates are half-empty, dessert is more whipped cream than anything else, and everyone’s full in that way that makes you too lazy to move.

Tony’s talking about building a pizza oven on the roof. Clint is inexplicably napping in his chair. Wanda’s stealing bites off Sam’s plate while pretending not to. And you?

Your face hurts from smiling, your stomach’s full, but you still offer to clean up.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you say, already sliding your chair back.

A second later, Bucky glances your way. “I’ll help.”

“Seriously?” Sam teases. “Since when do you volunteer?”

“Since now,” Bucky says coolly, already following you into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, but your heart is racing.

The kitchen is quieter than the dining room, where the others are still laughing, picking at desserts, arguing over who cheated in charades last week. In here, it’s just you, the soft clink of dishes, and Bucky—close behind you.

You roll up your sleeves and start running the water, pretending your hands aren’t slightly shaking. “You don’t actually have to help, you know.”

“I know,” he says, leaning a hip against the counter beside you. “But I want to.”

You glance at him sidelong. “You hate doing dishes.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done worse.”

You snort, handing him a dish towel. The two of you fall into a rhythm quiet, easy. You wash, he dries. Occasionally your arms brush, and each time it’s like a tiny electric pulse zips up your spine. You tell yourself not to overthink it. You fail.

“You were quiet at dinner,” you say, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of lasagna like it personally offended you. “Well. Except for all the flirting.”

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is low. “I like watching everyone like that. Laughing. Being...normal.” He pauses. “I like watching you.”

You freeze, dish half-submerged in sudsy water. Slowly, you turn to look at him. “That supposed to be smooth?”

He grins, shameless. “Did it work?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because he’s looking at you again—that way he does, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and worse, that he means every bit of it. Your heart is somewhere in your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, unsure what comes next.

But then he sets the dish towel down. Steps a little closer. And when you don’t move he reaches up and brushes a wet strand of hair from your cheek.

“You gonna kick me under the sink,” he murmurs, “or are you finally gonna let me kiss you?”

Your breath catches. “There are at least three Avengers in earshot.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

And he is. But somehow it still feels slow, like the whole world holds its breath for you, just for this. It’s not desperate. It’s not showy. It’s just real. When he pulls back, you blink up at him, dazed. “You call that quick?”

He grins, a little smug. “Told you I’ve done worse.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “You missed a spot,” you say, tossing him a still-dripping plate.

He catches it one-handed, totally unfazed. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You bump your hip into his, reaching for a fresh towel. “I tolerate it.”

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “You know, I kinda like this.”

“The dishes?”

“No. This.” He gestures between you. “You. Me. Elbow-deep in soap. Feels… nice.”

You reach over and flick a bubble at him.

He blinks, deadpan. “Did you just—”

You do it again, giggling. He retaliates by flicking water at your face. You shriek. He laughs.

“What, you can handle HYDRA but not a splash of water?” he teases.

You grab the sprayer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I dare.”

There’s a short-lived, extremely wet battle that ends with Bucky shielding himself with a dish towel and you both breathless from laughter, leaning against the counter like you’ve run a marathon.

“I think we’re officially banned from post-dinner cleanup now,” you say, still giggling.

“Worth it.”

There’s a pause. He looks at you, hair a little damp, cheeks pink from laughing. And then he leans in again, just because he can. Just because you’re both still smiling.

When he pulls back, he murmurs, “Think we can sneak off to dry off somewhere quieter?”

You grin. “Only if you promise not to start a water war in the hallway.”

“No promises.” But you link your pinky with his anyway.

And that’s when it happens. A very deliberate throat-clear from the doorway. You both freeze like guilty teenagers. Natasha’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, one brow raised like she’s watching a soap opera. “You two done playing splashy-splash, or should I get you floaties?”

Bucky groans softly, his head thudding against the cabinet door behind him. You try to hide behind the dish towel. It doesn’t work.

Natasha steps further into the room, clearly savoring this. “Didn’t know dishwashing came with a swim option.”

“We were just—” you start.

“—cleaning,” Bucky finishes, not even trying to sound convincing.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, giving you both the kind of look that could peel paint. “You know, for two people trying so hard to look casual, you’re not very good at it.”

Before you can respond, there’s a loud clink from the doorway. Steve steps in, completely unbothered. Holding a slice of pie on a plate like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Is everything okay here?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she shoots you one last look, a knowing glint in her eye. “Alright, alright. Carry on with your... dishes.” She turns, heading toward the door, but not before adding with a teasing smile, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Steve watches her leave, clearly lost in his pie-induced bliss. “What’s her deal?”

You and Bucky exchange an amused look before Bucky mutters, “You really don’t want to know.”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, probably not.”

And just like that, the moment passes. Natasha's suspicion lingers in the air for only a second longer before Steve’s back to his pie, you’re back to drying dishes, and Bucky’s smile is a little too smug for anyone’s good.

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twotablelamps

1 month ago