#stormbreaker

Stormbreaker leaned, inert, glinting slightly in the sunlight coming through the window. As always, it looked majestic. 

Thor cleared his throat.

“So,” he said casually. “She picks you up once and suddenly you’re best friends.”

Silence.

“She gave you a nickname,” he added, squinting. “And you liked it.”

Still nothing.

He stepped closer, trying not to sound defensive. “Look, I know she’s strong. And polite. And… frankly delightful. But I’m your wielder. I’m the god here.”

The axe said nothing.

Thor shifted awkwardly, then reached out a hand to the handle with the air of someone offering a peace branch.

“Stormy,” he said gently, with a smile.

The zap hit him instantly.

A bright, crackling snap of electricity arced from the handle into his palm and launched him half a foot backward. He stumbled, caught himself, and blinked as his hand smoked faintly at the fingertips.

He stared.

“You zapped me?!”

Stormbreaker glinted again.

He looked around as if someone might confirm the betrayal. “That—! You’ve never done that! I’ve called you worse things during battle and you’ve never shocked me!”

He pointed a dramatic, singed finger at the axe.

“She calls you Stormy and it’s cute. I call you Stormy and suddenly I’m unworthy?”

The axe did not respond.

Thor huffed, rubbing his hand. “This is because I left you on the rug, isn’t it?”

A pause.

A sparkle of static ran up the haft.

Thor glared. “Oh, come on.”

From the hallway, Sam peeked in, caught the scene, and just nodded once. “That’s what you get.”

Thor turned to him, indignant. “It is my axe!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like it’s hers now.”

Stormbreaker shimmered in the light.

Thor stared at it for a long beat, then muttered under his breath, “...traitor.”

*****

It started as a hum.

Not loud, just a low, rhythmic vibration, like the faint thrum of a purring engine, or an oversized feline.

You paused mid-way through your tea, eyes narrowing. The living room was quiet, but the sound was unmistakable. It was coming from the far corner where Stormbreaker sat.

You set your mug down and walked over, tilting your head.

The axe was glowing slightly along the edge of its hilt. Not threatening, just... content. Like a space heater basking in its own warmth.

You crouched beside it, resting one hand gently on the handle. “Hey there,” you murmured, thumb brushing across the carved grooves.

The hum grew a little louder, a little deeper.

Your eyes softened.

“Oh, you are so sweet,” you cooed. “Are you humming for me?”

The glow pulsed once.

You let your palm slide up the handle in a soothing gesture. “What’s got you all happy, huh? Just excited to see me?”

Stormbreaker gave the barest flicker of electricity at the base, like static shiver under your hand. Not shocking, just a response.

Your thumb stopped on a smudge of something, grease maybe, or a fingerprint from a god with snack-hands.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Stormy. You’ve got smudges.”

The axe vibrated indignantly.

You gasped. “I know. I’d be upset too.”

Rising to your feet, you walked over to the hall closet and grabbed a clean microfiber cloth, the good one you usually reserved for your sunglasses. Stormbreaker watched, silently thrilled.

You returned, knelt beside it again, and asked,“How about I polish you up? Would you like that?”

The humming deepened.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll make you sparkle.”

You worked in slow, loving strokes, running the cloth along the etched metal, tracing around the layered edge of the axehead, down the handle, smoothing every little imperfection with care.

Stormbreaker was practically vibrating now, an almost fond, low warble beneath your fingertips.

“You’re so handsome when you’re clean,” you whispered, smiling at the shimmer coming back to the surface.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat.

You looked up.

Bucky stood in the doorway, blinking slowly.

His expression was somewhere between concern, confusion, and quiet panic.

“...Are you polishing the murder axe?” he asked.

You beamed. “It was humming for me.”

He stared at Stormbreaker.

Stormbreaker hummed louder.

He stared at you.

You gently shushed the axe, stroking it once more like a beloved pet.

“I think it likes me,” you said proudly.

Bucky made a noise that sounded like static and a prayer. “...Thor’s gonna lose his mind.”

You looked up from where you were crouched beside Stormbreaker, cloth still in hand.

The axe continued to hum. Bucky furrowed his brows.

“You’re still…” he started, then stopped. “You’re still petting it.”

“It likes being polished,” you said matter-of-factly. “Look how shiny it is now.”

“It’s a weapon,” he whispered.

You turned the cloth gently along one edge. “And weapons deserve love too.”

Stormbreaker pulsed again, practically glowing with smug satisfaction.

Bucky rubbed a hand down his face. “Okay. Fine. You’re allowed to bond with sentient space metal.”

You glanced up. “But?”

He hesitated.

You raised a brow. “You’re not... jealous of the axe, are you?”

He stared at you. Blinked a few times and muttered, “...No?”

You tilted your head. “That wasn’t convincing.”

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest.

“I just—” he began, then trailed off. “You stroke it like it’s a damn cat. Meanwhile, when I try to get your attention, you make me wait for commercial breaks.”

You set the cloth down and stood, dusting your hands. “That’s not true.”

“You shushed it,” he added, looking borderline betrayed.

“It was vibrating too loud!”

“And then you said it was handsome!”

“It is!” you laughed. “But so are you. You're both shiny and temperamental.”

He blinked again. “I… wait. Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

You crossed the room, stepping right into his space, and slid your hands around his waist.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, but didn’t move.

You leaned in close. “Listen. You’re the one I cuddle at night. You’re the one I lift onto counters. The axe just needed a little TLC.”

“It was purring.”

“And I purr for you,” you said, grinning. “You like when I purr for you.”

He flushed, clearly remembering. “That’s... beside the point.”

You kissed his cheek. “Do you want to be polished?”

He made a choked sound. “Sweetheart—”

You kissed the other cheek. “Because I could make you shine.”

“You’re lucky I’m in love with you,” he muttered.

Behind you, Stormbreaker hummed again, low and smug.

Bucky scowled past your shoulder.

“You’re not that special,” he said to it.

Stormbreaker sparked once, just a flicker.

You patted Bucky’s chest. “Don’t antagonize the axe, babe.”

*****

Bucky had successfully claimed your lap.

You were curled on the compound couch, legs stretched, his head resting comfortably against your chest while you ran your fingers through his hair. He was completely relaxed, eyes closed, a little smile tugging at his mouth like he’d finally won back your full attention from the weapon with boundary issues.

Until you heard the low insistent hum. 

Across the room, where it rested neatly in its corner, Stormbreaker faintly pulsed a soft blue. The handle shifted slightly on its own, adjusting its angle like it was… watching.

The hum changed in frequency.

Bucky stirred. “What was that?”

You hesitated. “I think… Stormy’s humming again.”

He groaned without lifting his head. “Of course it is.”

You gently craned your neck to look again, just in time to see the axe slowly begin to float.

It didn’t zoom, it just quietly glided toward you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “It’s doing the jealous weapon float.”

Bucky lifted his head and turned, and blinked hard.

“Is it… is it coming over here?”

The axe hovered in the middle of the room now, still humming, still tilting ever-so-slightly to angle the blade toward Bucky, though not aggressively. 

Bucky sat up straighter, “It’s looking at me.”

“It doesn’t have eyes.”

“It’s still looking at me.”

Stormbreaker inched closer.

You stood up instinctively, hands up. “Hey. No. We’ve talked about this. You don’t get to threaten my boyfriend.”

The axe slowed, vibrating faintly like a sad puppy.

Bucky was standing too now, several feet back, staring at it. “I’m not fighting a weapon for your affection.”

“No one is asking you to.”

Stormbreaker hovered midair like a scorned ex.

You sighed, crossed the room, and gently laid your hand on the handle.

The humming stopped.

Stormbreaker leaned into your palm like a cat nudging for attention.

You stroked it once. “We’re not doing this.”

Bucky watched as you comforted the semi-sentient axe that had tried to intimidate him with glowy vibes and slow-motion judgment.

“…You know what?” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Jealous again?”

“I’m not competing with an enchanted blade with abandonment issues.”

Stormbreaker purred.

You kissed Bucky’s cheek on the way by. “She’s just a little possessive.”

“She?!” Bucky cried, incredulous. He muttered something about "weapon loyalty" and "needing boundaries" as he stomped away.

*****

It was supposed to be a quiet morning.

You’d made your tea, claimed the sunniest spot in the living room, and now you were back where you often found yourself lately: kneeling in front of Stormbreaker, gently polishing its hilt with your favorite microfiber cloth.

Stormbreaker gave a soft pulsing purr.

“You like that, huh?” you murmured, carefully working along a smudge near the base. “All this grime. Honestly. Do you ever get a proper wipe down?”

The axe vibrated in response.

You huffed softly. “I didn’t think so. Look at this build-up. I wonder if it feels itchy…”

Stormbreaker practically preened.

“Is this… happening again?”

You turned to see Thor standing just inside the doorway, cape flared slightly, face pulled into a deeply conflicted frown.

“She’s humming,” he said flatly.

“She is being appreciated,” you corrected, not even looking up.

“I wield her!”

“You leave her on the rug.”

“I fought Hela with that axe!”

“And then you wiped blood off her edge with your cape.”

Stormbreaker let out a sharp, almost delighted hum.

Thor took a step back like it had betrayed him. “She likes you.”

“She likes manners. And maintenance.” You buffed a spot along the blade until it gleamed. “Which, I’m just gonna say, is the bare minimum.”

“I’m the God of Thunder.”

“More like the God of Weapon Neglect,” you muttered.

Stormbreaker hummed louder.

You looked at her with a smile. “See? She agrees.”

Thor looked between the two of you, your calm, focused polish strokes and Stormbreaker’s literal glowing enthusiasm, then huffed, folding his arms.

“I can clean my own axe.”

“Please,” you said, still not looking up. “You put her blade-down into a planter last week.”

“That was decorative.”

“She had soil in her rune grooves!”

A sound behind you made you glance over your shoulder.

Bucky stood at the edge of the hall, leaning casually against the doorframe, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

He raised a brow. “Do I need to leave you three alone?”

“I’m just scolding Thor,” Stormbreaker hummed louder.

Bucky grinned. “God, that’s hot.”

Thor looked personally victimized. “I have never been more insulted by a mortal.”

You stood up, handed the cloth to Thor, and patted his chest.

“You’re not being insulted,” you said. “You’re being taught.”

Stormbreaker vibrated with delight.

*****

You’d been on your way to the bathroom when Bucky caught your waist and pulled you back in.

His contrasting hands were warm and confident, and cold and unyielding. One slid under your shirt, fingers splaying across your side like he needed to memorize every curve.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured, lips brushing just under your ear.

You hummed, smiling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was already lower, already dipping into that rasp that meant his thoughts were anything but pure.

You turned in his arms and kissed him, slow at first, then deeper when his hands tightened.

One hand slipped under the back of your shirt while the other found your hip. His thumb stroked a soft line just beneath the waistband of your leggings. You gasped into his mouth.

And then… you both heard a hum.

Bucky froze.

You pulled back slightly. “...Was that you?”

“No.”

Hummmmm.

This time it was louder. 

You both turned slowly toward the corner of the room.

Stormbreaker hovered mid-air, gently tilting toward you.

Bucky blinked. “Why is it in here?”

“I didn’t bring her—”

Hum.

The axe floated an inch closer.

“Oh my god,” Bucky muttered. “She followed you?”

“I think she’s lonely.”

“She’s a weapon.”

“She’s sensitive.”

Bucky straightened, exasperated. “This is our time.”

Stormbreaker glowed faintly in response. Her hum was sad, almost mournful.

You sighed. “She’s pouting.”

“She’s interrupting!”

Stormbreaker tilted slightly, like she was trying to cut between you.

Bucky stepped in front of you instinctively. “Absolutely not. No third wheels. Especially glowing ones.”

Stormbreaker let out a low, grumbly warble.

“She just misses me,” you whispered.

Bucky looked torn between rage and betrayal. “I missed you. I didn’t levitate into the bedroom to prove a point.”

You held up your hand gently, palm out. “Stormy. I love you. But not right now, okay?”

The axe stilled.

Then slowly floated backward, settling in the hallway just outside the door like an obedient, but sulky, guard dog.

You closed the door and locked it for good measure.

Bucky stared at you. “Is this our life now?”

“She’s just a little emotionally dependent.” You kissed him again. “Now. Where were we?”

He hesitated. “...You’re sure she’s not going to burst in again?”

“She respects boundaries,” you promised. 

*****

Bucky stared into his coffee like it had betrayed him.

Next to him, Thor was sulking with the theatrical weight of a man who’d once been worshipped and now couldn’t even get his axe to come when called.

“I don’t understand,” Thor muttered. “She used to glow for me.”

Bucky didn’t look up. “Yeah? Well, she used to polish me.”

Thor blinked slowly. “...We are talking about the same ‘she,’ yes?”

Bucky gave him a look. “My girlfriend. Your axe.”

“Ah.” Thor sighed. “Yes. Of course. My apologies. It’s been a confusing week.”

They sat in silence. Somewhere in the compound, Stormbreaker was probably curled up beside you like a sleepy guard cat, humming every time you brushed your hand over her handle.

Bucky scowled.

“She’s obsessed,” he muttered.

“She called her ‘Stormy’ and she liked it,” Thor said bitterly.

“She spends more time oiling your axe than she does kissing me.”

Thor turned. “She oils her?”

“Like a spa treatment,” Bucky gritted out.

Stormbreaker hadn’t even tried to hide it earlier, hovering three feet behind you while you made lunch, humming softly every time your hand got close. Bucky had tried to pull you into a kiss and got gently headbutted by the flat side of the axe.

Thor huffed. “She used to answer only to me.”

“She snuck into my bed in the middle of the night,” Bucky muttered.

Another beat of silence.

Thor looked over. “Your girlfriend, or—?”

“The axe, Thor.”

“Oh.”

They both stared at the wall.

Finally, Thor folded his arms. “We must do something.”

“I know,” Bucky snapped. “You think I like competing with your clingy flying weapon?”

“And you think I enjoy watching your girlfriend cradle Stormbreaker like a sacred relic while I stand in the corner like a useless thunder jock?”

Bucky sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Alright. Fine. We fix this.”

Thor leaned forward. “A plan.”

“A mission.”

“Operation: Win Her Back.”

Bucky nodded. “Exactly.”

Another pause.

“…Do we know how?” Thor asked.

“Absolutely not.”

They both slumped.

In the hallway, a faint hum echoed.

Bucky glared toward the sound. “I swear to god, if that axe is cuddling her again, I’m filing a restraining order.”

Thor sighed. “She never hums for me anymore.”

Bucky knocked back the last of his coffee.

“Welcome to the club.”

*****

They’d said it was training

“Just a little warm-up,” Bucky had mumbled. 

“Nothing formal,” Thor had insisted.

You sat on a bench, sipping your iced coffee, completely unconvinced.

Stormbreaker floated behind you like a judgmental bodyguard.

Thor made the first move. A flashy spin of Mjolinir which launched him into a gravity-defying leap, landing in a dramatic crouch that sent a wave of dust into the air.

You clapped politely. “Nice landing.”

Stormbreaker buzzed once, unimpressed.

Thor frowned at the axe. “I am still mighty,” he muttered.

Bucky was up next. He looked good, sweaty, focused, a little smug. He made eye contact with you before flipping his knife once and launching it across the field, dead center into the bullseye target.

You arched a brow. “Not bad, soldier.”

He smirked.

Stormbreaker hummed a little louder. It was unclear whether she was annoyed or simply claiming your attention by proximity.

Thor squared his shoulders. “I once decapitated a frost giant from seventy feet away.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “I did cardio this morning without complaining.”

Thor scoffed. “I bench press tanks.”

“I cleaned the bathroom.”

You hid a laugh behind your cup. “Are you two competing or courting?”

“Yes,” they both said at once.

Stormbreaker let out a metallic shnnk sound, like steel dragging across a whetstone. Definitely judgmental.

Bucky waved a hand at the axe. “What is her problem?”

You grinned. “She doesn’t appreciate posturing.”

Thor straightened. “She used to love my posturing.”

“She loves attention,” Bucky muttered, crossing his arms. 

“You’re adorable,” you said. “In a sad insecure way.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m insecure?”

“I think you’re trying very hard to win my affection when you already have it.”

That stopped him.

You stepped up to him, brushing a hand over his arm, then stood on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to impress me, Buck. You just have to keep being you.”

Thor cleared his throat. “And what about me?”

You turned to him, patted his armored chest once. “You’re a good friend.”

Stormbreaker hummed like it was laughing.

Thor winced. “She used to think me worthy.”

“She still might,” you said gently. “But you’ve got to earn it with more than flashy spins.”

Stormbreaker tilted slightly toward you.

Bucky leaned down and whispered in your ear, “I’m still your favorite, right?”

You didn’t answer out loud. Just gave his dog tags a gentle tug and pulled him in for a kiss that left no doubt.

Stormbreaker purred.

Thor groaned and turned away.

“Fine. I shall spar with Steve. At least he doesn’t flirt with my axe.”

From behind you, Stormbreaker hummed a smug, vibrating chord.

*****

You hadn’t planned to be a mediator today. Honestly, you’d just wanted to enjoy your smoothie and maybe sneak in a few kisses with Bucky before team training kicked off.

But the axe was humming again., Thor was pouting, and Bucky was sulking in the corner.

You set your drink down and clapped your hands together.

“Okay. Everyone. Sit.”

Thor paused mid-huff. “I—”

“Sit, Thor.”

Stormbreaker gently hovered into place beside the coffee table, humming softly as if to say thank you for including me. Thor flopped onto the couch. Bucky dropped into the armchair with a sigh. You remained standing, arms crossed, trying to figure out how your life had come to this.

“Right,” you said. “We’re going to have a conversation now. All of us.”

Stormbreaker glowed faintly in agreement.

“This is either the start of a really bad joke,” Bucky muttered, “or a group therapy session I did not consent to.”

“I mean,” you said, “it’s both.”

Thor cleared his throat. “I merely wish to state, for the record, that I have no issue with the mortal woman. I simply wish for Stormbreaker to remember her rightful wielder.”

Stormbreaker’s hum dropped half a tone. You didn’t speak axe, but you were pretty sure that was “don’t test me, thunder boy.”

You held up a hand. “Thor, you’ve been neglectful.”

“I have not!”

“She had gravy on her rune edge last week.”

Thor blinked. “...I didn’t notice.”

Stormbreaker spun slowly in the air, dramatic and disappointed.

“And you,” you turned to Bucky, “have been acting like a man in a love triangle with a hair straightener.”

“She purrs when you pet her.”

“You purr when I pet you.”

He blinked. “...That’s not the same.”

“I just think,” you said, exasperated, “that we need some ground rules.”

Thor and Bucky exchanged a look.

Stormbreaker hummed expectantly.

“Rule one,” you said, pointing at the axe, “Stormy doesn’t float into the bedroom after lights out. That’s my time.”

Bucky smirked, smug again. “Hell yeah it is.”

“Rule two,” you added, “Thor actually cleans her once in a while.”

Thor nodded solemnly. “I shall schedule regular oiling. And gentle compliments.”

Stormbreaker pulsed, satisfied.

“Rule three,” you continued, “Bucky stops treating her like the other woman.”

He pouted. “She started it.”

“She’s two hundred pounds of star metal and feelings.”

“I’ve been replaced,” he said under his breath.

You walked over and dropped into his lap.

“Have you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He looked up at you, those soft blue eyes still clinging to a bit of wounded pride, and finally shook his head. “No. But I miss being the one who makes you laugh with no magic or humming involved.”

You smiled. “Then maybe stop glaring at the axe like she stole your seat at dinner.”

Bucky glanced at Stormbreaker. She buzzed innocently.

He sighed and leaned his head against your shoulder. “Fine. Truce.”

Stormbreaker floated an inch closer and gently bumped the side of the couch.

You sighed, reaching out to pat her haft. “Okay, fine. Group hug.”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky grumbled, but didn’t move when you brushed your fingers through his hair and wrapped one arm around him and held out the other for the axe.

Thor placed one enormous hand over Stormbreaker’s handle and whispered, “Welcome home, sweet girl.”

Stormbreaker hummed.

Thor beamed.

Bucky rolled his eyes.