Talking In Your Sleep Pt 1

Sometimes I'll see the booktok girlies go crazy over a smutty scene or line and I'm like they would not be able to handle the stuff us tumblr/AO3 girlies write and read

home safe | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquín's friends call you to come and pick him up after a night out at the bar where he can't stop talking about you. Warnings: Mentions of drinking, being drunk and alcohol. Word Count: 1.5k A/N: I saw a TikTok where a golden retriever boyfriend got so excited when he saw his girlfriend turn up at the bar and my first thought was 'That's so Joaquín' so here this is 😂 Enjoy 💗

Making the most of a rare Friday night alone, you’re about to crack open a new tub of ice cream when your phone buzzes on the counter beside you. With a sigh, you set down the spoon you’d been planning on digging into the ice cream with, and pick up your phone to read the message.

You assume that it’s going to be from Joaquin. He’d gone out to attend the Bachelor Party of one of his best friends, leaving you home alone. He hated to go – he’d said at least twenty times that he wished you could come with him, but he understood that you needed time apart and that it was crucial to a healthy relationship to do things alone. But regardless, he always felt like something was missing when you weren’t there.

He’d also assured you that when he was ready to come home, he’d send you a text so that you could come and pick him up. He’d promised he wouldn’t stay too late, knowing that you would want to try and get a good night sleep as usual and he didn’t want you to have to go to bed without him. With Joaquin, you knew you could trust his word on that.

As you look at your phone, though, you’re surprised to see that the message isn’t from Joaquin, but from Eddie, one of his friends who was also attending the Bachelor Party.

Joaquin is ready when you are… seriously… save us…

You laugh a little as you read his message and quickly type out a reply. I’m almost tempted to leave you guys to deal with him for even longer. But I’ll head out shortly :) 

A little disappointed, you move to put the ice cream back in the freezer. It was going to have to wait until another night now. There’s only one reason why Eddie would be texting you – Joaquin had had too many drinks and was being his usual drunken self, somehow more extroverted than he already was. If anyone thought Joaquin couldn’t shut up when he was sober, then they’d never seen him drunk.

It doesn’t take you too long to get your things together and leave the house. You’ve changed out of your comfy clothes and put on something semi-presentable, knowing you’ll likely have to go inside the bar to bring your boyfriend out, and are in the car on your way towards the bar not long after. 

You send Eddie a text as you walk towards the bar. Whereabouts are you guys?

He surprisingly doesn’t take too long to reply. I’ll come to the front door and get you so you don’t get lost. It’s pretty packed in here. You’d probably hear us before you saw us.

You snort at his message, knowing it’s true, and head into the bar. Eddie is right – the bar is bustling, as expected for a Friday night. There are people everywhere, music pumping through the speakers and you wonder how anyone could have an enjoyable time here without wearing some pretty serious earplugs.

Someone calls out your name and you turn to see Eddie, standing not too far away from you. He beckons you over with a smile and then greets you with a quick hug. All of Joaquin’s friends love you and consider you as much of a friend to them as he is.

“Thanks for coming so fast,” Eddie says as the two of you start to walk back to where he’d come from. “Joaquin… he seriously has not shut up about you since we got here. You’d think that he was the one getting married instead of Mateo.”

You smile to yourself at the thought. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, we’re not,” you say, amused. “I’m sure that it’s just the alcohol though. You and I both know how he gets.”

Eddie laughs. “He hasn’t even had that much to drink compared to some of us.”

As you get closer towards the table where the rest of the group are, you can hear their laughter and loud voices just as Eddie had said. You hear Joaquin’s laugh and instantly smile as you finally lay eyes on him. His cheeks are a little flushed from the alcohol and the smile on his face sets butterflies off in your stomach. 

You can see when he spots you in the crowd just from the way his eyes light up. His jaw drops and then morphs into a grin that takes over his entire face. “Angel!” Joaquin’s voice is loud, impressively so. Despite the loud music, several people turn their heads to look at him.

Before you can even take one more step closer to him, Joaquin is up and away from the booth, running towards you and barrelling straight into you. He picks you up, spinning you around in a circle as you laugh. You’re pretty sure he’s never been happier to see you.

“Angel, what are you doing here?” He exclaims, setting you down on the ground again. 

You laugh, resting your arms over his shoulders. “I was requested to come and pick you up,” you say, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Apparently my boyfriend couldn’t stop talking about me? And I’m pretty sure Mateo is the one who’s meant to be talking about his girlfriend all night instead of you, baby.”

Joaquin looks over his shoulder at his friends. “You guys called in reinforcement?” He says, pretending to be shocked as if he’s not extremely happy to see you. “Listen, Mateo has been talking plenty about his soon to be wife so I figured it was only fair I add in my share.”

Over at the booth, you hear Mateo snort. “I’ve heard you say your girl’s name so many more times than I’ve said mine, Joaquin,” he calls. “Thanks for coming to save us, by the way. We love spending time with your man but I think he loves you more.” His voice is amused.

“You’re so welcome,” you call back. 

Joaquin moves to stand beside you, but he still wraps an arm around your waist, becoming his touchy self again now that you’re here. You’re surprised to see that he isn’t actually as drunk as you had been expecting. Clearly, though, the few drinks he had consumed had made him insufferable enough to his friends.

“Are you guys kicking me out or something?” Joaquin says beside you, pouting a little as he looks over at his friends. “Man, I thought we were having a good night. It’s not even midnight yet!” 

Not that he’s disappointed at the fact that this means he can go home and spend the rest of the night curled up in bed with you… in fact, out of the two scenarios that one is definitely the better sounding one.

“Nah, bro,” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m heading out too, so are a few of us. I just got a text from my girl and she’s waiting for me in the car outside. I promised her I wouldn’t stay out too late. She finds it harder to sleep without me now that she’s pregnant, apparently.”

The simple confirmation that Joaquin isn’t the only one leaving is enough to perk his mood right back up. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’m just gonna go say bye to the guys and then we can go.” 

You nod, watching him as he heads over to say his goodbyes to everyone and send his well wishes to Mateo, since it’s the last time he’s going to see him before the wedding. It doesn’t take long, though, and soon enough he’s walking back over to you and taking your hand in his. All the boys yell their goodbyes to you as Joaquin leads you out of the bar.

Joaquin keeps hold of your hand while you leave the packed bar. He doesn’t let go even when you’re safely outside, happily trailing along behind you as you lead him over to where your car is parked.

“You know, when I saw you walk in tonight I was a little distracted,” Joaquin says as you stop beside the car and reach into your bag to get your keys out. “Mateo had just said somethin’ real funny and then I looked over and saw you and at first, I thought it couldn’t be you cause I knew you were at home. I just saw you and thought ‘Damn, that girl looks so much like my beautiful girlfriend.’”

“And then you realised it was me and basically jumped on me,” You chuckle, amused as you find the keys and unlock the car.

Joaquin places a hand on your hip. “Can you blame me for that, angel?”

You turn around and lean in to gently peck him on the lips. “I can’t,” you hum. “Now come on, it’s time to get you home and sober you up a bit.”

He smiles and leans in to open the car door for you. He might be a little drunk but he’s still a gentleman who can open the car door for his girlfriend. Once he’s inside, he rests a hand on your thigh as you pull away from the curb and head for home.

“Thanks for coming to get me, angel. Even if it kinda ruined your night alone.”

You glance over at him briefly to give him a reassuring smile. “Knowing that you’re coming home safe matters more to me than spending the rest of my night alone, baby.” 

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DISODxvCJkE/?igsh=MWR6MnhjMDVybzYzcQ==

You recently described Bee and Bucky having 'matching grins'. And then I saw this reel and thought, "I'm sure Bee picked up A LOT of Bucky's mannerisms"

This can totally be them in the future with teenage Bee.

Bee and Bucky: *do the same thing*

Malyshka: 😐

Sam and Steve: 👁️👄👁️

A wild Frankie appears: "SO COOL" 🤩🤩

Bee is a mini Bucky 🥹 she's been watching and studying her Papa since she was old enough to crawl around his office. She copies him all the time.

Sometimes he'll be on the phone, one hand in his pocket as he paces back and forth behind his desk. Bee will grab her little pink phone, put her hand in the pocket of her bear suit and walk beside him. Whatever he says, she parrots.

Bucky loves when she does things like that.

She has so many of her parents mannerisms and its adorable to see the sweet toddler mimick them. It's easy to see how much they influence her, how loved she is and how much she loves them and wants to be just like them.

I Spy With My Little Eye

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin got you a little present for when he's away on missions for a longer time.

A/N: This is based off a tiktok I saw about a husband bothering his wife with the Ebo Bot while he's deployed

"...Joaquin, what is this exactly?" you look at the device inside the box.

Your boyfriend looks at you excitedly, "It's a little robot that I can use to communicate with you while I'm away on missions."

You pull it out along with instructions, "Honey, this is sweet and all, but our phones work just fine."

"But our phones don't roll around looking all cute like!" You watch as he downloads the required app and sets up the bot. Soon enough, the round, white and black bot is rolling around your living room floor. Joaquin controls it from his phone.

"See!" He then taps his phone again, "And I can talk to you through it like this!"

Honestly, you still didn't see the purpose of the bot, but it made Joaquin happy and it provides another form of communication with him while he's away.

"It does look pretty cute," you say, giving him a soft smile, which makes his own smile grow wider.

__________________

You're in the kitchen cooking dinner for yourself when you hear the rolling of wheels, "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

You chuckle and look down at your feet. The ebo bot is angled up at you as your boyfriend speaks through it, "Making soup?" Joaquin asks as he notes the pot in front of you.

"Close. I'm cooking stew."

"All of that for you?"

You roll your eyes, "No. I'll eat what I can and then I'll freeze the rest to eat for another time. Or if you want to eat it when you come back, all you have to do is heat it back up."

"Oooohh smart."

"Everything going okay?" you ask as you go back to cooking.

"Yup. Probably will be back in a day or two....can you pick me up and put me on the counter?"

You snort, "Really? Why?"

"So I can get a better look at your beautiful face, obviously." You hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes again but you oblige. For the past few missions, Joaquin has used the ebo bot to talk to you, mess around, and be a little nuisance. You could tell he was enjoying it way too much.

"I hope Sam never gives you your own Red Wing. I can't imagine the nonsense you'd pull with something more advance," you smirk at the bot that rolls around the counter beside you.

"I've already asked and he refuses to give me one."

You laugh, "As he should! You're a menace with this little thing," you gesture to the bot with the wooden spoon in your hand.

"I'm just making sure you're not lonely when I'm away!"

"Baby, I love you, but we both know you're the clingier one between us."

You laugh as the bot turns around and rolls towards a corner, appearing as if Joaquin is pouting.

"Take it back."

"No, because it's true! And I didn't say it was a bad thing, Joaco!"

"No, no, no. It's fine. Screw me for being super duper in love with my beautiful and amazing girlfriend." he proceeds to roll towards the edge of the counter and you stop him.

"You're so dramatic," you say with a smirk as you pick up the bot and raise it to eye level.

"But you love me."

"Yes, I do. Very much," you kiss the bot and set it back on the counter, "Were you going to watch me eat dinner?"

"Nah. I'll let you go. I need to work on reports or Sam will get on me again."

You snicker, "Alright," you set the bot onto the floor, "Love you. Bye!"

"Love you! Byyyyyeeeeee!" he elongates the word as rolls all the way back to the dock, causing you to laugh to yourself.

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

we should all have this as our pfp on june 13th #thankschuck

relinquish the crown: as long as i've known you pt1

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 16; immediately after 'under one condition pt2'

Summary: Loki makes his affections for you known, and you tell your friends of the turn of events with regards to your impending betrothal

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning/s: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Odin; very possibly inaccurate depiction of royal pre-wedding traditions [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: a good chunk of this is 'traditions old and new' (Prologue, Part 2) in Loki's POV; honestly at this point everyone's stressed out

There was no amount of preparation that could have readied Loki for the look upon your face as your perception of him was forcibly shattered and fundamentally changed with three simple words. He couldn't have possibly braced himself enough for the sight of you looking him up and down with growing abhorrence, all while shaking your head and mumbling No to yourself over and over.

"Yes," he said, now only a mere few steps before you. He figured now was as good a time as any to come clean on how long he'd harbored affection for you. "I've loved you for as long as I've known you."

Your bottom lip trembled, your brows scrunching together; another migraine had sunk its hooks into your head. "You've known who I was since the day we met," you said in a weak exhale.

"Yes, I remember, darling." His heart hurt seeing how your body physically rejected the endearment now, the sharp shake of your head as if you were throwing the word away. Or perhaps the last few moments so you could once more cling to denial. "You bested me," he kept on, taking another step toward you. Despite the dull ache he felt, he couldn't keep himself from smiling as he recalled the day in question. "And when I gazed upon your face, I knew. I was meant to be yours. And you mine."

You looked visibly pained recoiling away from him when he cupped your face. He could only imagine how overwhelming it must have felt having your every memory with him simultaneously torn down and repainted with the knowledge that all this time, every embrace, every kiss…had an underlying layer of lust. Of a more lecherous type of love.

"All those times…" you said in a frenzied murmur, your bottom lip quivering as your throat visibly tensed. As if your body were physically refusing to form the words. Your forehead tensed as well, and it was all the god could do not to reach over and offer you some semblance of comfort.

He was the last person you would take it from. And he had to come to terms with the achingly real possibility that it would be that way for the rest of your lives.

"All those times you said you loved me…you did not mean it as family loved family," you continued, your accusatory tone and guarded eyes piercing through him. "You--"

"I meant it as a man loves a woman," he said simply, surrendering to the new reality that now his affections were out for all to see, all to know. The rumors that the palace staff and the citizens of Asgard and beyond alike whispered amongst themselves would be confirmed at the announcement of your betrothal once you accepted the offer.

If you accepted his offer.

You could still reject it and tell him and your father to suffer the fate of the battle, and he wouldn't even dare hold it against you.

It should not have pained him as much as it did to see your features contort into one of rage, your skin reddening from the indignation bubbling to the surface. And yet it did, worsening when you chose to look past him after what he'd just confessed and chose to address Odin instead.

"The people will look at this union and see it for what it is. Sinful." You bared your teeth as you concluded, "Shameful."

"This was tradition for generations upon generations," the elder god attempted to reason with you. "Ages before even I was born, Y/N."

There was such barely restrained wrath in your face, in how you held your posture, that it gave all the gods in the room with you pause. Loki knew you were capable of violence; he'd certainly seen it enough times despite having known you for the shortest amount of time among everyone else in the room. Though never did he consider until right at this moment that you were capable of directing that violence towards any of them.

"There have been new generations since you rose to power!" you fumed. Your nostrils flared as the words spilled from your lips. There was a vein in the center of your head that pulsed furiously, and anyone who knew you well enough could see that you were suffering from what was undoubtedly one of the most vicious migraines to accost you.

If you had a weapon on you, you would have probably struck at the nearest unfortunate soul. In which case it would have been the very man that was the cause of your current troubles. And he would have more than understood if you were suddenly to decide that he deserved to be at the receiving end of your dagger.

That however, did not mean that the knowledge hurt any less, as memories crossed Loki's mind of the first days you knew each other. Particularly that first morning when you'd placed yourself in the line of fire to thwart an assassination attempt. What have I done to wrong the Norns so much that my relationship with the woman I am fated to has devolved so awfully? he thought to himself.

"They were not exposed to this depravity," you continued on. "They will see this union as something so base, so morally corrupt. They will look at the offspring of this union and think them bastards."

Was it wrong that there was the tiniest bit of hope blooming in the god's heart that your mind went to your future and your children with him? Most definitely. And yet he couldn't help himself -- the vision of a little girl with your long dark hair, scrunching her nose the way you once did, freely shifting between her Aesir and Jotun forms as she wished as she frolicked in his mother's gardens -- taking root in his mind, and making his heart ache as it sunk in how desperately he wanted that.

"And give them enough time and I assure you that they will look at me and think me a whore," you concluded, your chest heaving as you visibly fought against your current migraine. You made a motion as if to step toward him, your instinct to seek comfort from him making you even more irate as you fought against the urge. "What happens if I refuse?"

You refuse me, and you would be stuck with that shameful prince of Alfheim. He would take you away and you would never see Asgard again, he wanted to tell you. Instead, he chose to let you come to whichever conclusion you would find for yourself.

"What do you think happens, my love?" The endearment slipped out so easily, so naturally, it almost felt wrong for him to even attempt to take it back.

Tears welled in your eyes, and the god could almost hear the words that you willed to stifle in the back of your mouth. Demanding that he not call you such an abhorrent term. Screaming how dare he even think of calling you such in present company.

And yet instead of those words that would surely press even more daggers into his heart, you chose to answer your own question. "If I refuse then the terms of your relinquishment are unmet. If I refuse…the duel commences." The fat tears at the corners of your eyes finally rolled down your face, and once more Loki had to fight the urge to wipe them away. To pull you into his arms and tell you it was alright to just let your devastation out. To take it out on him, even, if you needed.

But all he could do was stand and watch.

"It does," Thor spoke, confirming your fear that these were your only options. A marriage that you viewed as immoral, or death. His…and in a way because of that spiteful child of an elven prince, yours. "Daughter, I am terribly--"

"You've given me an impossible choice," you cut him off, looking each of them in the eye. "All of you." You crossed your arms around yourself, as if trying to hold yourself back from completely lashing out and letting temper run amok. "Either I lose a part of my family…or I lose my life. My future. Signed away to avoid the bloodshed of new tradition."

If only it were that selfish, he wanted to tell you. I wish it were that simple, little Princess.

"Please don't view it so bleakly, darling."

"Well how else do you suggest I see it?" you seethed at the dark haired prince, your eyes widening in disgust as another realization planted itself in your mind. "Is this why you insisted that I never call you Uncle?"

Well, there's no longer any reason to hide it from her, Loki thought to himself. "In part," he answered you, your nostrils flaring at his admission. "Try to see it less pessimistically, I implore you."

He took a step closer to you, his hands raised with open palms, trying to show you he meant you no  harm. He was the last person in all the realms that would ever wish to inflict upon you any pain.

When you didn't flinch away from him, he continued. "You wouldn't lose your life. You wouldn't have nothing. You would have a husband who adores you. Who loves you with his entire heart." He tried to hold your gaze, praying to the Norns that you would hear the meaning behind his words when he asked, "Wouldn't you agree that you could do a lot worse than being wed to a man who loves you as I do?"

Is this not a better alternative than being shackled to that heathen from Alfheim?

A hint of understanding finally dawned in your features, clearly envisioning the long-term consequences of your refusal. The duel and the subsequent death, all in the name of determining an heir for the Allfather. The wedding and your inevitable departure from your home. The devastation and the misery.

Now it was up to you if those consequences were worth the refusal.

The next few moments seemed to drag on for hours. Days, even. As they all awaited your answer with baited breath.

And then finally you spoke, your words barely audible. "I accept your terms." Your words trembled as you fought back a sob, and you looked up at Loki with a cold, deceptive calm. "I accept your surrender. Only because I love my father. And I do not wish to see him live out his days haunted by the memory of losing you by his own hand."

Where there should have been an aching sorrow in his heart upon hearing your reasoning, there was only relief. She's accepted. She will be safe.

He couldn't help himself from taking your hands in his, hoping to steady their shaking. "I know it will take time but you will be able to find a way to love me, too."

Perhaps it was simply the hopeless optimism in his heart, holding on to the shred of possibility that the vision his mother had shown him months before of a blissfully married life to you, that pushed him to utter those words. Perhaps he still had faith in the knowledge that you two were fated for one another, and somehow your heart would find your way to him.

Even with your next words, he desperately clung to that faith by a thread. The very thread that tied your souls together.

"That's the tragedy of this all, I already loved you," you told him, wrenching your hands out of his hold with a sneer. "Just not in the depraved way that you do. But any affection I may have held towards you dies today." You averted your gaze from his and looked around the god to face your father. "You get to keep your brother. At the cost of your daughter."

With those words, you stormed out of the war room, your heavy footfalls echoing across the palace halls even long after you'd gone.

Hot tears continued to stream down your face and blur your vision as you navigated the palace halls, aimlessly taking turn after turn, trying to put as much distance between you and the war room as physically possible. As if you could escape the crushing weight of your new reality.

You had agreed to a marriage. You were betrothed.

To Loki.

There was a sharp pain at the back of your head, pounding away harder and harder with each step you took that brought you farther away from that wretched room. Worsening when you would pause even for a moment to process what you had just done.

It filled you with a cold dread knowing that you had verbally written off your family with that one meeting, and a burning rage immediately after knowing that they had essentially forced your hand. Surely not a single one of them thought you would take on this betrothal with open arms and a warm and welcoming disposition?

"Y/N?"

You turned your head to find your friends at the other end of the hall. It seemed your aimless wandering led you to the robe laundering facilities, to the remaining familiar faces that didn't make your heart hurt when you looked upon them. Halley and Narda hastened their steps, making their way to you with concern coloring their features once they saw the tear streaks and your red-rimmed eyes.

"My friend, what's wrong?" Narda asked, each of them taking one of your hands as you walked down the hall together.

"My dear friends, I am to be married," you said simply. There was nary a shred of excitement in your tone. You may as well have told them that you were to be executed within the hour.

They stopped abruptly in their tracks, their eyes wide and fearful as they shook their heads at one another. "Princess, you agreed to Prince Damien's--?"

"Norns no," you blurted out, answering Halley's question. "I'll gauge my own eyes out with my training daggers before I allow that heathen of a prince to marry me."

"Then who…?"

You motioned toward one of the stone benches, the three of you seating yourselves with you between the two ladies before answering Narda. "There was this abolished incestuous tradition within my family line, one that Odin rid us of when he'd chosen to go down the path that would lead to his marriage to my grandmother Frigga. In its place…a duel would commence in the event of more than one legitimate heir to Asgard's throne. It seemed that my hand in marriage was requested as a term of Loki's succumbence."

"You are to marry the god of mischief?" Halley squeaked, a pit forming in your stomach when you saw an eagerness in their faces. "Ohh, Y/N this is wonderful news, the prince adores you--"

"Hang on." You withdrew your hands from their grasp, your brows knitting together as another migraine came about. "You two knew about his lechery?"

"Well I wouldn't say we knew," Narda explained. "More like we'd surmised. Much as the prince is the god of lies, there was one truth that he couldn't hide away from any one of us to save his life. His love for you. We tried to rationalize that perhaps the tenderness we would see in his eyes was a familial sort of love--"

"But it was clear to just about anyone that he looked at you the way Narda looks at Fandral…and vice versa," Halley concluded. "He looks at you like a man in love, my friend."

Your face fell at their words. Were you simply so oblivious to what apparently anyone with eyes and a functioning mind could see? Had you truly subconsciously overlooked every gesture and every endearment that Loki sent your way in the name of blissful ignorance?

"B-But never you mind all that, Y/N," Narda spoke again, placing her hands on your shoulders and calling your attention back to them before you lost yourself in your mind. They'd surely known you long enough to see your tells before it became too arduous a task and they would need reinforcements. The most reliable of which was now called your betrothed. "We must strive to look at the brighter side of the situation. You need not marry that loathsome prince of Alfheim anymore, and you need no longer leave the realm after your wedding!"

"And much as this is not what you had envisioned as far as your married life goes," Halley chimed in. "We could still perhaps partake in some wedding traditions…particularly one where your bridal party gets to throw you a couple of celebrations before the ceremony?"

Much as you still struggled to come to terms with the betrothal, your friends had rather valid arguments. And Halley's suggestion began to lighten your mood even by the slightest. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

The silence in the war room was deafening, none of the men inside daring to break it after your understandably emotional exit. Odin seemed to be mouthing words to himself, surely planning away his next steps now that there was no longer any need for the horrendous duel that would have resulted in the end of Loki's life.

Meanwhile Thor held his head in his hands, the only sound filling the room being his deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. Impulsive as the elder god was in his youth, it seemed he didn't wish to say or do anything as rash as you had moments earlier.

"I sincerely hope you realize the gravity of what you've done," the god of thunder spoke, his eyes filled with a mixture of anguish and restraint. "This surrender of yours may have irreparably damaged my daughters relationship with not just you, but all of us."

There was the faintest voice in the back of his mind contemplating taking it all back, the god's heart splintering as the words you'd spewed his and Thor's way replayed over and over. That would be what the coming years, centuries even, married to you would look like. Perhaps even worse as your hatred would fester over time.

If he rescinded his surrender now perhaps he could still salvage what dregs of love and respect you had for him, and he could spend what time he had before the duel finding another way for you to escape Prince Damien's clutches. A way that didn't require you to be shackled to your father's brother, in a gilded cage of forced matrimony.

But he knew well and good that this was the only way to secure your safety. To ensure that you wouldn't have to live out the rest of your days in a loveless marriage that reduced you to barely anything more than an incubator for the elven prince's heirs. Even worse if that wretched prince decided to share you with his trusted comrades and his swine of a father as soon as you were given the dishonor of being called his wife.

Meanwhile the worst that could happen whilst you were Loki's wife had most likely already happened. His love would be unreturned, and the most he could hope for was a lick of civility. He would not coerce you into loving him, and for the most part he would make his best effort to refrain from showing you his affection so as to not add to your discomfort.

All that truly mattered was that he had successfully thwarted Damien's loathsome plans to turn you into little more than a piece of meat to be picked apart by such animals.

His getting to live and escape the bloodshed of the duel for the throne was simply an added recompense.

"Considering what the alternative would have been like for her, Brother, I will happily take her scornful demeanor for the rest of my days," he answered, sincerity pouring out of every word. "She may despise me for as long as I live for taking her choice in marriage away from her, and be appalled by knowing of my affections towards her, but at least she will be here. Safe in the realm she calls home. Surrounded by those that love her most. Better this than all of Asgard losing her…and ultimately her losing any sense of self if Prince Damien has his way."

"The royal court of Alfheim will not take kindly to the news that a unification with our realm by marriage to Princess Y/N is no longer an option," Odin finally spoke aloud. "Namely their crown prince."

"That adolescent in a grown oaf's body is simply ambitious and suffers from delusions of grandeur," Thor said with a dismissive sneer. "And I do agree with you, Brother. To a point. But Father is also right. There will be an effort of resistance on their part, even likely demanding a form of reparation for their time spent gone to waste."

"Perhaps he could challenge me to a duel, then," Loki responded bitterly, a rueful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And I could do all the Realms a favor by ridding them of this pathetic disrespectful excuse of a prince with my bare hands."

"Let us hope it does not come to that, my sons." Odin stood from the table, beginning to circle the room as he spoke of his plans for the immediate future. "We have now entered a time for celebration. There is to be a royal wedding. The likes that may satisfy the proponents of our old and our new traditions alike."

A chill ran down Loki's spine at his father's words, already knowing the course that this conversation would take. Tradition decreed that when a royal was betrothed, there were to be a series of affairs they were to partake in, mainly so the citizens of their Realm could grow accustomed to the new relationship and accept the new dynamics at play.

He always thought of it as being paraded around akin to a child going around their classroom to show the other students their shiny new toy. And now at the center of that attention would be himself…and you.

"You are to engage in a public courtship," the Allfather addressed him. "Get the denizens of the streets of Asgard accustomed to the idea that they will now see you and Y/N in a different light. That you two will now belong to one another and as such, any slight to one of you will be an affront to the other. We can decide what events this courtship will consist of at a later day. For now, we focus on the announcement of your betrothal."

Cognizance seemed to dawn upon Thor's features, his accusatory gaze pinning his brother where he sat. "He has been courting her, Father. All this time. We'd all simply been unaware."

Loki fought back the urge to protest or deny the claim. He wanted more than anything to say that Thor was simply jumping to conclusions now, that he was farcically wrong, as he often was. But as the seconds passed, and he looked back on his interactions with you, he knew that denying it would be nothing but a bold faced lie.

The gifts he would bring back for you upon his return from every assignment Odin or Frigga would send him off to, the time you two would spend together despite having no formal reason to, the gestures he made towards you from the way he would hold you to his side when you passed a crowded street or how he kissed your knuckles when your time together for the day had reached its conclusion. There had always been a layer of intimacy that anyone watching would have seen from leagues away.

You two had been unwittingly engaging in a public courtship since the day you met.

"I assure you, Brother, that had never been my intention," was all he could muster.

"Then these next moons shall come quite naturally to you then, Loki," Odin told him. "And now public courtship is precisely your intention. It is one thing for Y/N to have accepted the terms of your surrender, and ultimately this marriage, but it shall be another thing entirely for the rest of Asgard to accept it. Now, your first act as her betrothed is to find her and inform her of what shall be required of both of you prior to the royal wedding taking place."

"Try not to tell her while she is in the presence of her weapons," Thor quipped. "The last thing we need is for her to be locked in the dungeons for committing avunculicide."

A/N: Pretty sure Thor hated how his brain cells rubbed together and figured it out at the end back there 🫠 But anyways holy hell goddamn I can't believe we're finally here…Season 1 is coming to a close and I can finally get started on planning out Season 2…and writing a whole bunch of other projects alongside it 🤪

Lemme just say right now…the plans I have so far for Season 2? Especially towards the end of it? Chaos (insert baby yoda with the flames here)

I had to split the S1 finale into two parts because honestly it was too long and there was too much going on even for me for a single chapter. The final episode of Season 1 will go up on Friday. 😳

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki @lulubelle814 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv

Spare Parts

Summary : Your boyfriend gets used to life with one arm.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Fluff!!!! Sexual references, and implied sex, though no graphic descriptions. Cursing. 

Requested by : @undf-stuff (based on this request)

Word count : 1.7k

Note : I haven't updated my masterlist since last month but I promise you I will soon! Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes, at some point, decided his left arm was optional.

You weren’t exactly sure when it started, but looking back, the signs were there. You should’ve seen it as a steady progression of small moments that culminated into this. 

At first, it was little things— chopping vegetables one-handed like he was starring in a cooking competition. The metal arm would still be on, but he’d keep his vibranium fingers curled into a loose fist like he didn’t quite trust them not to cause trouble.

The moment you really noticed came one evening when he flopped onto the couch beside you, let out a long, dramatic sigh, and—without a single word—just took the arm off and set it on the coffee table like it was a pair of gloves he didn’t feel like wearing.

You blinked and opened your mouth. “Uh…”

Bucky, completely unbothered, stretched out with a pleased hum. “It gets in the way,” he accused, reaching for the TV remote with his right hand. “And, it gets messy.”

Your eyes flickered to the sleek piece of vibranium now lying abandoned on the table, looking vaguely out of place next to the half-empty bowl of caramel popcorn you had made for the evening. 

“Messy?” you echoed.

“Yes. Messy.” He huffed, his eyes dark and brooding like a man who had seen things— horrible, terrible things, and you weren’t even talking about the Hydra stuff. “Do you know how annoying it is to clean blood, dirt, and food out of all those little joints? Last week, I got butter in there. Butter.” He shuddered.

“That was your fault,” You barely suppressed a laugh. “You stole my toast.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said stubbornly, waving a dismissive hand. Then, with the confidence of a man who had never done anything wrong in his life, he draped his human arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. “I’ve decided to be right-handed.”

“You are right-handed.”

“Well, now I’m only right-handed.”

You sighed, shaking your head as you settled your head on his shoulders, hopelessly fond. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You keep me around anyway.” he shrugged, pressing a lazy kiss to your hair, 

You huffed. “Against my better judgment.”

Not that you’d ever get rid of him. Bucky Barnes was your weak spot. A six-foot hunk of grumpy, stubborn, adorable beef who could get away with anything if he tried hard enough.

Even the cardinal sin he committed that night, as he put his damn arm in the dishwasher.

Which, by the way, you always scolded him for.

And which, by the way, he always did anyway.

—

After that, the left arm gradually made fewer appearances in day to day life.

Cooking? Off. It’s hard to get oil off the ridges.

Coffee? Off. The grounds get in the plating. 

Fixing little things around the apartment? Definitely off—especially after last time, when he’d gotten a nail stuck between the plates of his vibranium fingers and sulked about it for hours.

At first, it was mildly concerning. “Bucky,” you’d say, watching him knead dough one-handed like some determined pioneer wife who lost her arm to an untreatable infection. “Just put the fucking arm on.”

He’d just shrug. “It’s fine.”

Then, it became routine.

Did a jar need opening? He wouldn’t even attempt it. He’d just hand it to you, expecting you to pop it open like you were his personal Jar Opener. (He stopped doing this himself after he tried wedging a pickle jar between his thighs to twist the lid off— except his ridiculous, super-soldier thighs of steel turned it into a disaster. The glass shattered, pickles and brine went everywhere, and he ended up with a mess of tiny cuts, which healed annoyingly fast).

It should’ve been annoying.

But it wasn’t.

Because every single time, without fail, he’d watch you do it with this cute little smile— like it delighted him, like it thrilled him to see you easily accomplish something that, for once, he couldn’t. (It was adorable, honestly).

—

But the part you loved most were the mornings.

Bucky was an early riser. You were not. And on the days when duty called him out before the sun had even bothered to peek through the curtain, he’d always accidentally disturb your sleep as he got out of bed. 

And he hated that. He hated that you pouted when you realised he had to go. He hated leaving you feeling alone. So one he detached his arm and draped it over your waist as if he was still there.

It worked like a charm. You didn’t even notice he was gone until a couple of hours later. 

The first time it had happened, you’d been so startled when you woke up to a disembodied arm, you threw it across the room and broke a vase.

Now, it was comforting. It became a part of him you could hold onto when he had to leave too early, when the bed was too cold and the world was too quiet. And he knew you loved it.

In those mornings, when you finally trudged into the kitchen—hair a mess, eyes still half-lidded, his metal arm slung over your shoulder like the world’s strangest scarf—he’d take one look at you and smile from ear to ear.

“Morning, doll,” he’d say, clearly just getting back from the gym. “Sleep okay?”

And every time, without fail, you’d yawn, press a drowsy kiss to his jaw and click the arm back into place on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you’d mumble, leaning in, “Your arm kept me company.”

And every time, without fail, Bucky would readjust it, then wrap both arms around you, tug you in close, and press the softest kiss to your hair.

“Good,” he’d whisper, lips brushing your temple. “That’s why I left it.”

—

There was one time, though, that Bucky misplaced it entirely.

And he only noticed they were gone when he received a concerning message from Rocket Raccoon.

[Off-World Transmission Received: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA GOT YOUR ARM.]

And attached to it, was a picture of his arm in a box, the guardians posing with it (Drax had a middle finger up. You don’t think he knew what it meant).

Bucky stared at the screen. “What.”

Slowly, very slowly, he turned to you. His eyes a mix of horror, confusion, and the kind of sheer disbelief that only came from realising you had lost an entire prosthetic limb.

“Did I—” He swallowed. “Did I have my arm when I went to bed last night?”

You frowned, trying to rewind through last night’s memories, though you failed. “…I think so?”

Spoiler alert: He did not.

He had left it to air dry in the dishwasher.  And as it turned out, at some point between you and Bucky going to bed and the sun rising, Nebula had waltzed in and stole it— all that effort for Rocket’s goddamn Christmas present.

And Bucky, so used to going without it, had somehow managed to not notice for a good twenty-four hours.

You would’ve felt bad for him, except for the part where he spent the next two days pacing around the apartment, grumbling like he had a personal thundercloud over his head while you attempted to hold in your laughter.

In the end, he had to commission a whole new arm from Shuri, who laughed so hard she had to mute herself on the call. Though she did agree to make him an arm that was easier to clean. 

And Rocket was a dead fucking man. Let’s just say your boyfriend was not a man to let things slide.

—

Surprisingly, though, the real revelation came later.

For all his dramatic sighs and grumbles about crumbs in the joints and butter between the ridges on the plating, Bucky still refused to wear the sleeker, less bulky arm Shuri had designed for him to use regularly. As it turned out, there was another reason he was so particular about keeping his arm clean—a reason that, when he finally admitted it, had you staring at him, unsure if you should be aroused and concerned.

Because, apparently, Bucky Barnes was keeping his vibranium arm spotless for you.

For sex.

See the thing is, sex with Bucky was never, ever vanilla.

He liked using that arm. Loved the way you gasped when cold metal traced up the inside of your thighs, how you writhed beneath him when he wrapped it around your throat, how you begged when he pinned you down under its inescapable grips.  

He loved making you tremble. Loved the power his vibranium arm offered—his flesh hand was soothing, his vibranium one unrelenting, precise, wrecking you in ways only he could.

So yeah. He wanted to use the arm for you. 

Until, one night, you told him you wanted to see what it was like without it.

It started gently, with lazy kisses and the drag of lips over skin, the sheer weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

But then, just when you expected him to shift, to brace himself on that vibranium forearm like always—you remembered  it wasn’t there.

It was across the room, abandoned on the table.

And Bucky was touching you with nothing but himself.

His broad, big human hand—first skimming over your ribs, slipping up your thigh, calloused fingertips brushing all your sensitive spots until you were gasping his name.

His mouth—hot and wet, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, over your collarbone. His voice was gruff as he murmured against your skin, “So beautiful. Gonna take my time with you, sweetheart. “

My god, did he.

See, Bucky Barnes was never vanilla in bed… until today. He was usually all filth, with teasing grins and a fuckin’ take it, baby growled every once in a while. 

Today, he was so vulnerably human, filled with whispered devotion. He was slow and loving. He had your fingers clawing at his back, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. There was something about being just flesh and blood that made him so… sensitive. So gentle.

And fuck, it was good.

So good that afterward, when you were sprawled across his chest, blissed-out, you found yourself telling him, “You don’t always have to put it back on, you know.”

Bucky chuckled, lips brushing your temple. “Yeah?”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest, your fingers threading through his. “Yeah.”

And now that he didn’t need the arm to feel whole, the arm started to stay off a little more often in bed.

-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

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

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

@cjand10

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)

Studies is in "I'm gonna kill everyone / why are you breathing so loud" phase of the period and Stud isn't brave enough to face his girl, but still sends Alpine in this dangerous mission:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMr3SGjQq/

Oh, nonnie, Stud KNOWS it's a bad period when Smartie gets to that point. It's why you actually choose to remove yourself from the living room because you don't want to snap at him. If you snap at him, you might start crying because he has to breathe and it isn't his fault. Then you'll get upset because you're crying and wondering why your body is punishing you again, as if you forget that this happens every month. And then you get angry that it keeps happening every single month and-

Yeah, it's best to just go to your room.

Bucky can't let you suffer like that. He wants to help, but how does he do so without setting you off? Alpine, of course. Beautiful, smart, agile Alpine who can easily carry the little baggie that he put together.

"This is dangerous territory, Al," Bucky says, giving her a quick pet once she has the bag. "But you're a brave soldier and she needs this."

Alpine gets it. She wastes no time heading to your room and sneaking in after Bucky cracks the door open just enough for her to sneak in. She spots you curled up on the bed, almost looking like a cat yourself. You jolt when she jumps on the bed.

"Alpine, how the hell did..." You trail off as a little baggie is dropped in front of you, raising an eyebrow at it. "What's this?"

Alpine paws at the bag, encouraging you to open it. Inside is some aspirin to help you with any pain, some chocolate because you love it even when you aren't on your period, an eye mask for relaxing later, and a little note. A tear falls on the piece of paper as you read it.

"Sorry for breathing so loud. You just make me lose my breath. I love you."

You have to laugh. It's so adorable and so cheesy and so Stud. God, you really lucked out with him.

"Thanks," you whisper as Alpine rubs her head against you. "And thank you, mouth breather!" From the other side of the door you hear, "Mouth breather?!"

You giggle again as you wipe your eye. It feels good to laugh. "I love you, Stud!"

"Love you, too, Smartie. I'll order a pizza."

And when you two have dinner, you won't mind how loud he breathes because he's perfect.

Love and thanks! ❤️