#sunshine reader

And now here he sat, scrolling through an app called ‘Rover’ that Sam had deemed ”Tinder, but for animals”. Which already filled Bucky with dread considering his track record with the dating app. Nevermind that his cat was like him in the way she didn’t much care for strangers. So this almost felt like picking out a victim that was going to have to deal with her mood swings.

“What about this one?” Bucky asked Alpine, turning his phone so she could see a photo of a sitter. He figured that if whoever was going to be tasked with watching her, she may as well have some input. Maybe then she wouldn’t tear them to shreds. Not that she could really answer save for a slow blink, a flick of her tail, or an unimpressed yawn. She sniffed the phone, but the look of disgust was unmistakable in those bright blue eyes. 

Bucky sighed again, continuing his scrolling. “We’ll have to pick someone you know. I can’t leave you alone. Not because I don’t trust you, but someone has to make sure you don’t starve or dehydrate while I’m gone.”

Alpine stretched her paws out in front of her, tail in the air curled like a question mark before hopping up to snuggle onto Bucky’s lap. She watched his thumb flick across the screen, ears perked high like she was now just as invested. Until she let out a quick mmrp and tapped her paws on his thighs.

“Her?” Bucky asked, pausing on a picture of a woman, a giant smile on her face as she cradled a dark grey cat and a golden-colored puppy in her arms. She had hundreds of glowing reviews, something called ‘Star Sitter Status’, and over 10 years of experience. 

She was also – Bucky held the phone closer to his face – yeah, okay, she was kind of attractive. The kind that made something defrost in his chest.

“I really need to get out more,” he muttered. “Getting flustered by a woman holding an animal and talking to you like you can actually answer me.”

Alpine kneaded her paws again like she was confirming both his statement and choice of sitter. 

“Alright, you know best.” He murmured, scratching behind her ears and already typing out a message.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

There hadn’t been time for a meet-and-greet – whatever that meant – not with Sam basically breathing down Bucky’s neck that their window for this lead was rapidly shrinking. You, thankfully, hadn’t seemed fazed. Bucky initially apologized for the awful timing, sending over a picture of Alpine as a bargaining chip, asking if you had any last-minute openings. You had responded nearly immediately.

Oh, she’s adorable! I had a cancellation last week, so the timing is actually perfect. I’d love to take care of her. 

After a bit of back and forth that mostly consisted of payment methods and shot records, Bucky ended up standing outside a stranger’s apartment with Alpine in her carrier, and a duffel bag packed like he was expecting to be gone months instead of just a week. The guilt nagging at the back of his mind as he felt more like a deadbeat cat parent abandoning his fluffy child to someone he only knew through text message. 

The door swung open to reveal you in an oversized blue pastel sweater and leggings, and a smile warm enough to melt asphalt. “Hi there!” you said brightly. Confident and friendly, like you’d known Bucky and his cat forever instead of less than 24 hours. 

“You must be James, and this must be Alpine.” Your voice had a calming lilt, breezy and dangerously charming as you bent slightly to peer into the carrier.

You stepped aside so he could enter. The apartment was bright and cozy, pastels just like your sweater dotted every throw pillow, blanket, and fuzzy accent. Bucky hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this much color or comfort. His apartment barely had a rug and a couch. But here? Every spot had a soft place to curl up.

“I set up a space for her by the window, a lot of the cats I care for like to watch the birds in the garden.” You added casually, closing the door behind him. 

Bucky nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he took in the space. He loosened his iron grip on the carrier once he realized it was creaking under stress. The quiet warmth of this place was the complete opposite of the dreary New York City sidewalk. It smelled like vanilla and citrus, like someone had just baked and then did a deep clean. There was a faint hum of music, something soft and instrumental, that made it feel less like a stranger’s apartment and more like an upscale spa reception area.  

A cream colored cat tree was set up right where you pointed, bowls were laid out along with a host of pillows. A basket of toys proclaimed “A house isn’t a home without a pet” in calligraphy in the corner.

“If you want to set the carrier down, and open it, we can talk while she gets acquainted with her surroundings.” The suggestion was gentle, with a confidence that may have been misguided considering the fluffy menace in the carrier wasn’t reacting the way Bucky had expected. He was fully prepared for mewling and screeching, though this could be the calm before the storm. 

Still, Bucky did as instructed, maybe grimacing more than he meant to as the hinges to the carrier creaked open. “She…really doesn’t like strangers.”

And she really didn’t. He’d seen full-grown men flinch when Alpine got into one of her territorial moods. So Bucky was bracing himself for the worst.

You smiled, relaxed and completely nonchalant, “That’s okay, I get it. It’s weird being in a new place. I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends by the time you come pick her up. How long were you going to be gone again?”

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, “I know I said a week, but my…work trip may get extended.” He hadn’t wanted to tell a stranger where he was going or what he was doing. He figured a small white lie was best instead of saying ‘I’m going to go do some illegal shit and get shot at.’

Nodding, “That’s fine, just let me know. I have another client coming in 10 days, so if you’re still out I’ll make sure to keep them separate. And I work from home so I’ll always be around. Any medications or special instructions?”

He cleared his throat, now sheepish as he produced a paper with everything he thought you would need to know. Alpine had been kept on a strict schedule ever since Bucky had adopted her, finding it grounded him. “Figured this was easier. I know it’s kind of a lot,” he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. “The schedule helps…both of us, I guess.”

To his surprise, you didn’t laugh or tease him. Instead, your eyes lit up, taking it, but Bucky had noticed Alpine creeping out of her carrier. She padded right to your feet, sniffing at the socks you were wearing. He held his breath, waiting for the flurry of scratches and yowling, the puffed tail, or for her to bolt back into the carrier.

But it never came. 

Alpine weaved around your legs like she had known you forever. And you? You stood unbothered as you read through the care instructions.

“Promise I’m not ignoring her,” you said without looking up, like you could sense his question before he even asked. “With cats I always try to have them investigate me on their own terms before I start showing affection. I’m just letting her warm up to me first.”

“Smart.” Even though Bucky didn’t know if it was or not. Too busy transfixed on the way your lips barely formed the words as you read silently. He shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over your face.

“Food and everything in the bag?” You asked, looking down as Alpine brushed her head against your calf, leaving a streak of white hair on your leggings. 

“Extra in case I am gone longer.”

You bent at the knees then, sitting on the ground. “I wish all my clients were as prepared as you.” Your smile could disarm a nuke with the softness behind it. Bucky grappled with the strange surge of feelings pushing behind his ribs. And then Alpine hopped into your lap, curling instantly against your thighs, and purring loud enough Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. 

“See?” You offered, two fingers lightly stroking down Alpine’s fur. “No longer strangers.”

Bucky was rendered speechless at the sight of his cat who had hissed and puffed up at anyone he brought into his apartment laying in your lap as the picture of contentment. A part of him felt relieved, that this wasn’t going to end up with you – a complete stranger – bloodied from sharp claws and teeth. But the other part? Softened completely at the sight of Alpine burrowing deeper into your arms like she’d known you her entire life.

Your arms shifted under Alpine’s body, scooping her up as you easily came back to standing. “We’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll send you updates, even hourly if you like. And if anything goes wrong, which it won’t, the first call will be to the vet, the second will be to you on the way to said vet.”

“Thanks.” Bucky fidgeted with the edge of his leather jacket, not sure if he should just…leave or stay to make sure Alpine wasn’t going to pull a complete bait and switch. You noticed the way he was lingering by the door awkwardly immediately. 

“You want a minute to say goodbye?” You offered, holding her out to him.

“What?”

“To Alpine.” You grinned, lifting one of her paws. “I can step into the kitchen, let you have a moment. There’s no shame in crying, I totally get it.”

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. Was not going to cry as he dropped off his cat. His eyes were just…a little scratchy from the scent of vanilla. That was it. 

Alpine let out a soft mmrp, completely unbothered as you handed her back to Bucky. “Just yell if you need a hug after.” You winked, disappearing into the kitchen like that was the most normal thing to offer a man with a vibranium arm and what Sam called ‘a resting murder’ face.

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with a response. Mostly because no one had offered him something like that in a long time, and the softness behind it had caught him completely off guard. It wasn’t with a trace of pity, more like…you actually cared about him too, not just his cat. Maybe you just weren’t aware of who he was. Instead of pondering too long on what an actual hug would feel like from someone who seemed to be sunshine personified, he scratched Alpine one last time behind the ears. “You be good, okay? I don’t want to hear how you became a terror after I’m gone.”

She yawned like she’d already forgotten who he was, and hopped down from his arms, trotting off to wherever you disappeared.

“She’s in good hands, I promise.” You reassured again, returning to the entry way, Alpine hot on your heels like a white magnet.

Bucky hesitated at the door still, fingers hovering just over the doorknob. He glanced back, not at Alpine this time, but at you. It had been a long time since he’d left something – or someone – he cared about in another person’s hands. Let alone a stranger. But something about the way you were looking back, casual and steady, made the guilt that had been in his chest loosen.

Then his gaze drifted, looking at how his normally standoffish cat sat obediently beside your feet, gazing up at you like she picked her new favorite human, Bucky couldn’t help but believe you when you said everything would be fine.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The first few updates Bucky got from you were standard. Or…at least he guessed they were. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was in this situation. But you sent things along as promised to show that Alpine was settling in nicely. A picture of her, lounging on the cat tree by the window with the caption: ‘The queen has claimed her throne.’

A short video of her cautiously sniffing a piece of salmon you were cooking. Typical cat things. Though now he was mildly concerned he’d have to start buying fish to keep her happy.

Now, he was halfway around the world, holed up in a warehouse that reeked of mildew and rust. Sam was at a makeshift table, covered in blueprints and dossiers muttering to himself. Bucky was meant to be keeping watch. And he was, leaning near a window, eyes on the quiet street, trying to catalog anything remotely out of place. Until his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he just had to check it immediately. 

A selfie. You and Alpine curled up on the couch, her paws mashed into your jawline and a smug expression on her face, while you looked a little helpless and amused. You’d captioned it: ‘She’s refusing to move. Guess I’m stuck until dinner at 5 pm sharp.’

Another ping.

‘Also, she loves instrumental jazz. Didn’t expect her to have such good taste in music. She may wear out some of my records by the end of this.’

Bucky exhaled through his nose. Not quite a laugh, and closer to it than he’d like to admit. 

He scrolls back to look at the photo longer than necessary. Not at Alpine who was really meant to be the focus of it. But at you. How you had a halo of soft light around your shoulders, hair a little messy, and an oversized hoodie. There was a record player in the background, a little blurry, but Bucky could make out a few of them. Chet Baker, Ella Fitzgerald, John Coltrane. He really didn’t expect that. You with your pastel colors and sunshine smile screamed bubblegum pop music, not old jazz. 

It didn’t match, and that somehow made whatever feeling Bucky was having about these updates worse. Or better, he wasn’t sure yet.

Another ping, another photo. This time, a close-up of Alpine who had buried her body halfway inside your hoodie, paws sticking, and her head pushed into your chin. The caption read: ‘Resistance was futile.’

And maybe it was the fact that Bucky knew once Alpine got comfortable she was an immovable object that got him. Or maybe it was finally having someone else know what that feels like that knocked something loose behind his ribs. But he smiled, full and unguarded.

Across the room, Sam’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

Bucky didn’t move, schooling his features back into his normal glower. “What was what?”

“That little…smirk.” Sam stood then, waving a pen in his general direction. “You’re smiling. We’re about to infiltrate a den of mercenaries and you’re smiling about it.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You are too, is this a cat thing?”

Bucky pocketed his phone, “Just focus on making the plan, Wilson.”

“Who could you possibly be texting? Last I checked you only had like three numbers. And none of them should put that big of a smile on your face.”

He clenched his jaw, “I’m getting updates about Alpine. That’s it.”

“Oh, since when did Alpine learn to text?”

“I’m not – ” Bucky sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Just…let it go.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, “You’re acting weird.”

“I am not.”

“She’s cute isn’t she? That’s the issue, you picked an attractive sitter.”

“Alpine picked her.”

Sam chuckled, “Whatever you gotta tell yourself man.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The mission in Madripoor took a toll, both physically and mentally, and somewhere deeper Bucky didn’t want to even name. Zemo’s plan to infiltrate Selby’s bar to get information had worked, sure, but it had meant slipping back into a version of himself he’d worked so hard to bury. 

That part didn’t necessarily scare him. What did was how easy it was without the trigger words. That even without the Winter Soldier programming, violent instincts still lingered.

Bucky found himself scrolling through the updates he had missed, the room dissolving around him while Zemo and Sam argued about their next steps.

The most recent one was a photo of Alpine, but just her little white ears sticking out of the duffel bag Bucky had brought her supplies in. The caption read: ‘She found the snacks. I had to move them, but…she can also open drawers.’

“See? He’s texting his cat again.” Sam’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Can you focus up, man?”

“Again, I’m getting updates about my cat. She’s just…giving the sitter a hard time.” Bucky tried to make it sound casual. Like he wasn’t using these little check-ins and updates to keep himself tethered to something that wasn’t sharp and riddled with blood. Something normal despite how his day had gone.

He thumbed back up to a previous picture. You had Alpine swaddled tightly in the blanket Bucky had brought, only her nose and barely one paw sticking out, eyes half open. Her head was tipped back, looking up at the camera with adoration. ‘One of the only ways I could keep her from gorging herself in the treat drawer. But she seems to like it when I hold her, more so when I sing her lullabies.’

And just when Bucky was about to put his phone away, a new photo came in. You, curled up on the floor beside the cat tree. A book was open on your lap, and Alpine was perched like she was reading along with you. The angle wasn’t great, like you’d balanced your phone on the coffee table, but Bucky could just make out the title. The Hobbit. Well-worn and curling along the edges from use. You captioned it with: ‘Story time is mandatory in this household. She picked this one out herself. We’re starting a new chapter tonight.’

Bucky stared at the photo longer than he meant to. Not at Alpine this time, though it was cute how she seemed so invested. But at the way your fingers held open the book. At the way the light from the window provided a soft, dreamy glow to your figure. At the fact that you even owned a copy of The Hobbit, let alone one that looked like it had been read so often. 

He was certain he had had you figured out, but the more accidental glimpses he caught into your life, the more he realized how wrong he was. The fact that you liked jazz. Enough to have vinyl records of albums. The fact that you were reading to his cat from one of his favorite books without even knowing. 

He opened the message field, poised to type something. But the words just wouldn’t flow from his brain to his thumbs. He clenched his jaw, rolling his shoulders out like he could work the words free somehow. Started with: “She likes fantasy stories. What do you think of it?”

He deleted it with a grimace. Obviously you liked it or you wouldn’t have such a well-worn copy. You were watching his cat. He shouldn't want to ask about the book like it was a normal conversation with a normal person in a normal life. But that’s what you somehow felt like. A snapshot of a life that had nothing to do with mercenaries or war criminals or super soldier serum.

'Good choice. That’s one of my favorites too.'

Deleted that too. Because why would you care? 

Eventually, he settled on 'Thanks for the updates. Looks like she’s having a great time.' Before locking his phone and letting it rest on his knee. 

Zemo looked up from where he was lounging with a drink. “You have the smile of a man caught between two worlds.”

Bucky groaned, “Stop talking, Zemo.” 

“I’m only observing, James. You have a particular softness in your eyes I never really thought possible from a man who just punched his way through a bar. It’s easier to smile for people who don’t know your sins, no?”

Bucky felt a muscle in his eye twitch. “You’re just really itching to get thrown back in prison, huh?”

Sam snorted from the corner. “Are you two done? We’ve got leads to chase. Sharon says she knows where Dr. Nagel is.”

Bucky said nothing in response, tucking his phone back into his pocket. But not before he stole one last glance at the photo. You and Alpine in the warm halo of afternoon light. A quiet reminder that maybe the world wasn’t as far gone as he’d been made to believe.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.” Sam muttered, staring at the open hole in the tiled bathroom.

“Yeah? I can.” Bucky sighed, still reeling from the fight with the Dora Milaje. He had tried to keep it civil, tried to act as a mediator, but when the Wakandan guards want something, there’s usually no sense in fighting back. 

He found himself rolling his vibranium arm at the shoulder, testing to make sure it was still attached. He shouldn’t have been that stupid to think this piece of weaponry didn’t also come with stipulations. But having a person he trusted show that they had a fail safe if anything went wrong messed with his head a little bit. That even though he wasn’t the person he used to be, people still treated him like he was.

“I’m gonna make a call,” Bucky called over his shoulder as Sam typed out a message to Joaquin, who he thought would have some new leads. 

He opened the messaging app, a new update from you had just come across. Alpine sitting on the cat tower, one paw pressed against the glass at a blurred spot of color in front of her. ‘She made a new friend today. Didn’t get a good picture, but it’s cardinal. Only hissed at it once.’

His thumbs hovered over the letters to type out some message. Anything to form a connection. Asking for another update, but that felt too demanding. You’d been amazing at sending photos and updates so far, he didn’t want you to think you weren’t doing enough. He did, however, see the little green icon next to ‘Online’. An option for ‘video chat’ was right next to it. 

Leaning against a brick wall and out of the sunlight, he hesitated. He just wanted that glimpse into that life. Something that wasn’t life or death to counteract the thoughts pingponging around his brain. He hits the button before he can continue second guessing it and the one thread he can pull to ground himself goes offline. He didn’t know what he was hoping to get from this. Just…something steady. Someone who didn’t look at him like a time bomb or a weapon.

“Oh, hey! I was just about to send you an update saying Alpine was about to get tucked in for bed, but this works too.” 

Your face filled the screen, only the glow of fairylights behind you. A soft shuffling followed by an unimpressed mmrp could be heard as you adjusted the screen. “Sorry, it’s dark in here, I was just about to head to bed.” Followed by the flicking of lights one by one until Alpine could be seen, cozied up in a makeshift box under a canopy of pastel sheets.

“I built her a little fort today,” you continue, likely trying to fill the silence as Bucky just…watches. Mostly in awe of how calm Alpine looked, her tail flicking lazily in the soft glow of the room. “But she hated having her cat bed in there, so…random box it was.”

You turned the camera slightly to show Alpine more, curled up in a perfect loaf inside the cardboard box you had lined with pillows. Again, Bucky could hear the soft jazz playing in the background. Something he couldn’t quite place, but gentle and melodic.

“She misses you,” you added gently, fingers scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “She keeps going to the door like she’s waiting for you to come back. Paces a little just before dinner. But the second I start preparing her food, she’s racing to the kitchen.”

A small throb pulsed behind Bucky’s ribs. He leaned further into the brick wall, tucking his chin down to try to hide the look on his face. He wasn’t even sure what the feeling he was having was. Fondness? Heartache?

You hesitated before speaking again. “So, how's the work trip?”

That did something that somehow caught him off guard. You asked like you cared. No agenda. No digging for leads. Just…asked unprovoked. He studied you for half a second, “It’s…fine. Just been a long day.”

“We’ve all been there. But Alpine will be here ready to bug you for salmon when you get back. I really shouldn’t have given it to her. That’s on me.”

Bucky tried to respond, but words seemed to fail him. Eventually he settled for a quiet: “Thanks.”

He stared at the video on the screen, Alpine, purring loud enough to be heard over the tinny speaker quality curled in her stupid little box fort, and you beside her. No expectations behind your expression – well, maybe just the promise to come pick up his cat – just…there. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out a laugh. “Alpine’s really out here getting the royal treatment isn’t she?”

You chuckled in response, “Only the best for the princess. But don’t worry, I’m charging her ‘meowster’ card for the additional fees.”

That earned the closest thing to a laugh Bucky had managed in days. 

“Glad to hear it’s at least going through, they must have upped her limit.”

You devolved into laughter then, with Alpine turning away from you with an unamused expression. 

“Anyway, I should let you go.” Bucky said, seeing Sam waving at him from the door. “I just wanted to actually see if she was behaving or if she was holding you hostage and making you send those updates.” 

“She’s been a perfect angel.” You reassured. “I’ll send more pictures in the morning.”

“Thanks.” Bucky said before ending the call. 

Sam walked up, a quizzical look on his face. “Were you flirting with her? Is that what that was? If we weren’t having to chase leads, I’d be flabbergasted.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The sun was dipping low on the Louisiana horizon, casting golden streaks across the dock. Bucky sat on an overturned bucket, a wrench flipping loosely through his fingers as he looked out over the water. Sam was beside him, leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed in the sunshine. 

The day had been filled with boat repairs and dancing around the looming fact that the Flagsmashers were still out there, and that all of their leads had dried up. The least Bucky thought he could do while Alpine was safe in your care was make sure Sam, his sister, and his nephews stayed safe until something came up after the threats on their life.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out, already knowing who it was. Another update from you. This time, a video of Alpine batting at a feathered toy that twitched in response to something you had hooked onto her collar. A familiar mmrp and the scratching of claws on hardwood echoed from the speakers.

“Sorry, I had to keep her distracted somehow. I was in the middle of an email and she deleted the whole thing. She’s kind of an attention hog.” Your voice flowed out. 

Bucky bit back a smile before typing out a message in response. ‘Sorry, she gets like that. Hope it wasn’t anything too important.’

Your reply came quickly: ‘Nah, I’ll survive. Hope you’re doing okay.’

Bucky stared at the message longer than he meant to. The water lapped quietly at the dock while cicadas hummed somewhere in the trees behind them. A part of him wanted to say more, do something more for you after Alpine had disrupted your day.

He typed out a message ‘I really owe you dinner or something for putting up with her for this long.’ 

No, that seemed too forward. Delete.

‘I know a good salmon spot.’

What was he doing, asking out a grizzly bear? Delete.

He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back, squinting into the light like the sun was the main source of his problems. This wouldn't have been an issue in the 40s. That version of him would have already asked you out and he knew it. The issue was technology. 

Then, with as much forced casualness as he could muster – because he definitely hadn’t been rehearsing the question in his head for days – Bucky asked, “Hey…how do I ask out my cat sitter without it being weird?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. He turned toward Bucky slowly, eyebrows raised. “You’re asking me for dating advice?”

“No, I can get by on my own.”

Sam barked a laugh. “Clearly not if you can’t even figure out how to ask her on a date.”

“There’s too many rules nowadays.” Bucky muttered, running his hand over his hair. “I can’t figure out how to not sound creepy texting on this thing.”

“Okay, then call her.” Sam said it as if it were that simple and Bucky hadn’t already deleted tens of iterations of ‘let’s go get dinner’. He could only imagine how awkward a phone call would be.

“No, that’s not – look we’ve only talked through cat updates. Is that enough of a connection to ask someone to dinner?”

“Well, do you want to ask her?”

As if summoned by the mere notion of romantic idiocy, Sarah Wilson appeared. “You two are just getting nowhere fast.”

She stepped down onto the dock with a tray of lemonade, raising one brow as she caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s this about a cat sitter?”

Sam grinned, “Bucky’s got a little crush and he’s trying to act like it’s a hostage negotiation.”

Sarah nodded at the phone still in Bucky’s hand. “You like her?”

Bucky nodded, half-shrugging, the tips of his ears now turning pink. 

“Then stop overthinking it and just ask her to dinner.” She waved a hand at him. “You’re a grown man. And she’s clearly into cats, so there’s your icebreaker.”

“But do it when you pick up Alpine,” she added, pointing a finger at him as she set the tray down. “Women like a face to face thing. Plus that way, if she says no, she can’t just dump your cat somewhere.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Bucky defended immediately, turning the device over in his palm.

“Oh you’re so far gone, Barnes.” Sam chuckled, sipping on a drink. “You sure talk like you know her already.”

“I’m going to push you into the water,” Bucky grumbled, rewatching the short clip on mute.

Sarah huffed a laugh, “You’re both hopeless.” She turned then, and headed back towards the house. All the while muttering something about the “men” under her breath.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Flagsmashers had been dealt with, all either arrested or…otherwise indisposed. The world, for once, didn’t feel like it was actively ending. And Bucky finally had the space to breathe again. 

Which meant it was time to go get his cat. 

He didn’t send much when he let you know he was ready to pick Alpine up. 

‘Alpine’s going to be mad when I mess up her new schedule isn’t she?’

Your reply came almost instantly. ‘She’ll forgive you if you bring extra salmon.’

Now, standing in front of your door again, Bucky shifted from foot to foot, trying to give himself a pep talk. He had salmon – some fresh, some precooked – depending on what kind of night this turned into. He’d debated bringing a classic, like a bouquet of flowers, decided they were too forward, and instead settled on a thank-you gift bag Sarah helped him put together. Chocolate, a pastel pink pair of fuzzy socks, a lint roller because he remembered how Alpine’s fur had clung to your leggings, and a small hand cream in a scent Bucky thought might match the vanilla-citrus of your apartment.

He knocked once, and the door opened immediately. Like you had watched him fidget through your peephole in an effort to calm his racing heart.

You looked just as he remembered. Soft and bright, that sunshine smile still present, but a little more guarded. “She’s been clingy all morning,” you sighed, opening the door wider. “I think she knew you were coming.”

And as if on cue, Alpine strutted lazily into view, stopping two feet from Bucky, and sat down like a statue. No meow. No chirp. Just one very pointed glare and tail swish. 

He had expected Alpine to be a bit…disgruntled and standoffish. He had left her a little longer than he had said with a total stranger. But a stranger that she had picked. 

Bucky crouched down and reached a hand out, only for her to turn her head and dramatically sigh. But a moment later, she pushed forward, headbutting his knee and letting out a long mmrrrp like she’d absolutely suffered in his absence.

“She missed you,” you said softly.

“I can tell,” Bucky huffed, scratching behind her ears. “She’s laying on the guilt pretty thick.”

He straightened, handing you the gift bag awkwardly. “For you, just a thank you. I know she can be a little demanding.”

You peeked inside, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Is…are these pink fuzzy socks?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up into his cheeks, “They matched a blanket I saw. In one of the photos. I figured…y’know, you like that color.”

“That’s dangerously observant,” you said, smiling. “Thank you, this wasn’t necessary. She really was great, once she warmed up to me. She just kinda started following me everywhere.”

Bucky glanced down at Alpine, now doing figure-eights around his boots, occasionally sniffing at the other bag in his hand. “She chose you. I was scrolling for ages trying to figure it out until she just…tapped on your picture.”

“Well, she’s welcome anytime.” You hesitated, like you wanted to say more. “Though…hopefully next time it’s just a vacation, not an international incident.”

Bucky must have looked shocked, because for all intents and purposes, you thought he was just on a work trip. He had mentioned nothing of what he was up to. He didn’t even think you knew who he was.

“Saw you on the news with Captain America,” you said sheepishly, shrugging like it was no big deal. 

He tilted his head in surprise, “You mean Sam?”

“Yeah,” you said matter-of-factly. “He looked real good in that flying suit. People should stop giving him so much shit about it.”

That landed harder than it should have. Most people were unsure when John Walker was labelled Captain America, and even more people were hesitant and skeptical when they saw Sam holding that shield. You’d just said it like it was obvious, without a shadow of doubt. 

Bucky cleared his throat, “I won’t tell him you said that. It’ll go right to his already inflated ego.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Noted. If I meet him, no more compliments.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled in return. “So…have you eaten yet?”

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “No, not yet.”

Bucky lifted the second bag slightly. “There’s some food in here. I did bring extra salmon for Alpine, but also potatoes, broccoli, I think some kind of salad. Sam’s sister sent me off with enough to feed a family of six. I was just gonna reheat it at home, but…if you’re hungry, I thought maybe…”

“Yes,” you said, before he could finish. “I mean, sure. Yeah. Sounds good.”

Bucky relaxed a little, cracking the smallest smile. “Cool.”

Alpine let out a loud, impatient meow from between the two of your feet, rubbing around your ankles. You looked down at the little cat, “I think she either approves, or just wants her salmon.”

“Well, guess we shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Bucky said, nodding towards the kitchen.

“Right,” you agreed, taking the bag from his hand. “But just so we’re clear, I really enjoyed having Alpine around. I might demand visitation rights when I realize I miss her too much.”

Bucky followed, smirking, “We might need to get her approval first, but we can negotiate terms over dinner.”

But it’s not the first—nor the fifth—time it’s happened tonight.

A pause where there shouldn’t be one, his chest tightening just slightly beneath you, the rhythm of his voice stuttering before it picks back up again, slower now, more careful. 

Your fingers still against his shirt, listening properly this time, and there it is again—a stumble over a word, a quiet clearing of his throat, like he’s trying to smooth it over before you notice.

You do.

Of course you do.

You notice when the boy blinks. 

You lift your head just enough to look at him, your chin resting lightly against his chest. His brows are drawn together, eyes narrowed slightly at the page like he’s trying to force the words into focus. 

“Hey,” you murmur softly.

His eyes flick down to you immediately, instinctive, already halfway to brushing it off. “M’fine,” he says, a little too quick, thumb stilling briefly at your neck before it resumes like nothing happened. “Just—light’s weird or something.”

It isn’t. You both know that.

You don’t call him out on it—not directly. Instead, you push yourself up slowly, careful not to make it a big thing, your hand sliding over his chest as you shift until you’re hovering above him, one knee settling beside his hip.

He watches you, a little confused, book lowering slightly in his grip as his eyes track your movement.

“Hold on,” you say, so soft it’s like you’re careful not to spook him.

Your hand reaches back to the nightstand, fingers closing around his glasses where he left them earlier—after another day of refusing to wear them.

When you bring them back into view, you pause for just a second, letting him see what you’re doing, giving him the chance to protest if he wants to.

He just looks at you, something quieter settling in his expression, something a little unsure but he doesn’t pull away. 

You shift closer, your free hand coming up to his jaw, thumb brushing lightly along the line of stubble before you tilt his face just enough, and he lets you, eyes soft, fixed on yours as you slide the glasses onto him carefully.

They settle into place and you can’t resist a soft little boop to his nose, earning a small, surprised smile from him before it fades into something shyer.

He goes a little still.

Then his gaze drops, not to you, but to the frames, like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself now that they’re on, his eyes going slightly cross-focused for a second as he adjusts, which only makes him look more endearing, but you don’t react—you don’t want him to overthink it, even if you know your expression has gone a little too fond to hide.

“Uh—okay, so…” he mutters, voice a little off, a little shy, fingers coming up to adjust them even though they don’t need it, buying himself a second before he glances back down at the book like he can just… continue.

You don’t let him. Your fingers slip under his chin, gentle but certain, tipping his face back toward you before he can disappear into the page again.

The glasses slide slightly down his nose with the movement.

You push them back up with your thumb, soft, your touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“How many times do I have to tell you this, Stevie?” you murmur.

His breath catches.

You’re so close now, your voice low but full of sincerity. “I like you like this.”

He goes pink almost instantly, the flush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks, eyes flicking between yours. 

Your fingers don’t leave him. They slide from his chin up into his hair, slow, threading lightly through the soft strands before trailing back down along the side of his face, over his cheek, across the faint scratch of stubble.

He leans into it instinctively. 

Just a little.

You feel it.

See it.

The way his shoulders drop, the way his grip on the book loosens completely, his thumb still sweeping slow, absent circles along the back of your neck, leaving a soft trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Yeah?” he says, voice lightly wavering, heavy with emotion.

You smile, soft, your thumb brushing once more over his cheekbone, right beneath the frame of his glasses.

“Yeah,” you repeat, knowing you’d say it a million times over if that’s what it took—if it meant chasing away that small, uncertain look in his eyes and replacing it with the soft, honey-warm smile that only ever seems to be yours.

You don’t rush it, don’t break the softness of the moment—you just stay there, your chin resting against his chest, your thumb still tracing just beneath the frame of his glasses, your hand still warm against his skin.

And when that smile finally settles on his lips—slow, soft, a little shy but yours—

you lean in just enough, voice barely above a whisper.

“See?” you murmur.

“told you, Stevie.”

loverboy steve masterlist ♡

P.S. first time writing sunshine reader… be gentle ♡ P.P.S. slowly getting used to writing blurbs… (apparently not short ones) ♡ requests are open!

There’s no one that Natasha loves more than you. You’re the first person who never wanted anything from her – just her company was enough. As you weren’t an Avenger you were also one of the first people to sit with her and completely let your guard down. Natasha hadn’t been used to that – how openly trusting you were. She’d been trained to be suspicious of everyone – any little girl in the Red Room who was too trusting had soon paid the price.

But around you she could finally fully relax and let her guard down. Natasha knows you don’t have a bad bone in your body. It would never occur to you to manipulate, to lie, to cheat. There’s no ulterior motive with you – you’re always 100% you. What you see is what you get.

Natasha’s been dating you for nine months now and you haven’t fought once. You haven’t even come close once.

So Natasha feels guilty when she causes your first fallout.

You’ve come round to visit her at the compound. Natasha had invited you the day before and she’d been looking forward to it. She was always glad to spend time with you. But Natasha hadn’t predicted just how difficult her day was about to get. Fury discovers she made a mistake on their last mission and chews her out for it for half-an-hour. In training she ends up paired with Peter Parker who talks her ear off when she’s already irritated after her discussion with Fury and she ends up snapping him, causing him to look like a wounded puppy which makes her feel guilty as well as irritated. When she goes for lunch she spills her drink down her new t-shirt and in the afternoon she has to sit in a long, pointless meeting where everyone talks without actually saying anything.

Natasha’s on her way to her room when she remembers that you’re coming over. As you’re dating Natasha you’ve been granted clearance to the compound but there are certain areas you can’t enter unattended. You’re in the living room waiting for Natasha and she sighs, just wanting to lie down. She tells herself it will be fine – you can both have a quiet night in together. Maybe it will make her feel better.

“Nat!” You beam, getting up and throwing your arms around her. You’re always so physically affectionate, always wanting to cuddle or hold her hand. So far Natasha had found it endearing. Today she feels a stab of irritation though she tries to push it down as she loosely hugs you back “Have you had a good day?”

Natasha just nods and mumbles “Better now you’re here.”

You kiss her cheek and then pull back slightly to look at her, your eyes bright. You’re always so happy. It’s never bothered Natasha before but now she feels slightly annoyed by it. It’s like there’s never anything in your life to leave you feeling sad or stressed “I was thinking we could maybe go out.” You say “I really fancy going somewhere fun like bowling or to the arcade-”

Natasha closes her eyes at the thought, already feeling a headache forming. She shakes her head “That’s- I would’ve loved to but today- Today has been long and I just fancy a cosy night in. If that’s okay?”

“You might feel better if we go out?”

Natasha sighs “I just… I’d really rather not tonight.”

You pout but press another kiss to her cheek “Okay. Why don’t we cook something and then we could play some video games or something? I’m so excited to play the next levels on Overcooked-”

Natasha remembers the last time you both played ‘Overcooked’ and the thought makes her stomach sink “I’m not… Really in an ‘Overcooked’ mood tonight. Cooking something sounds good though. Then maybe we could just watch a movie and cuddle.”

“Alright if that’s what you fancy.” You say easily, kissing her cheek again as if you’re physically unable to stop yourself giving her little kisses.

You both head into the kitchen. There are a few other Avengers in there all sorting out their own dinner and you smile, chatting easily to all of them. You have that affect on people, everyone always seems drawn to you. Natasha feels a pang of jealousy in her gut, hot and heavy as a stone. She has no idea where it’s come from – she’s always loved how well you get on with the rest of the Avengers. It bodes well for your future together. But tonight she wants all your attention to herself.

Natasha wraps an arm around your waist as you begin working, making no attempt to help you, just keeping a possessive arm around you. The other Avengers finally leave them alone and she leans her head on your shoulder. It makes it more difficult for you as you chop and prepare but you don’t say anything.

You start singing under your breath. This is another one of your little habits that you do often and Natasha’s never minded but now the sound of your soft voice sends a wave of irritation through her. She closes her eyes, focusing on the feel of her arm around your waist but she can still hear you singing softly. You don’t have a bad voice but something about the way you’re singing softly just grates on her for some reason. After a few lines you stop and Natasha breathes a sigh of relief when you suddenly start again and she loses it.

“Will you fucking stop with that annoying singing?” Natasha snaps, letting go of your waist “Why are you always in such a goddamn good mood, huh? News flash Y/N, shit goes on in this world. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Nat-” Before you can say anything further Natasha storms out of the room, ignoring the way her heart twists at your crestfallen expression.

She stomps to her room, sitting down on the edge of her bed and burying her head in her hands as she takes several deep breaths. Deep down she knows she’s the asshole. You hadn’t done anything wrong and she was taking out her bad day on you. Her eyes fill with tears. Why is she like this? You’ve seen the side of herself she’d fought so hard to keep hidden. How grumpy and irritable she can get over the tiniest things. Why would a lovely, sunshine girl like you want to date her? You deserved better than her.

Natasha was selfish though. She wanted to keep you.

After about ten minutes Natasha rises from her bed, ready to come and find you when suddenly her bedroom door opens and you appear holding two bowls of food “Hey baby,” You say softly “I got our food.”

Natasha blinks, tears still in her eyes as you cross the room and sit down on Natasha’s bed – on the side that you’ve officially declared your side. She says nothing as she silently reaches out and takes the bowl you hold out to her. You smile “You mentioned a movie, did you have anything in mind?”

“No, I… I’m happy to watch whatever you want.” Natasha says in a quiet, subdued voice.

“Coolio, I’ve really wanted to watch ‘Companion’, I heard it’s good.” You flick through the streaming services.

Natasha puts down her bowl and looks at you “Y/N… I’m sorry.”

You smile at her “It’s okay-”

“No! No, it’s not okay.” Natasha says, tears starting to spill down her cheeks “I’m- I don’t want to be like this Y/N, you deserve better. I shouldn’t snap at you like that, I-”

“Hey.” You reach over and take Natasha’s hands in your own “I’m not gonna lie Nat, you hurt my feelings. Okay? But Steve and Sam told me you’d had a shit day. And I probably should’ve picked up on that earlier.”

“It’s not your responsibility to track my mood.” Natasha sniffles “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“We’re gonna snap at each other.” You squeeze her hands “If anything… You’ve gotten comfortable around me. To snap at me like that.”

Natasha rolls her eyes with a tearful, affectionate smile “Trust you to put a positive spin on me being such a bitch.” She suddenly wraps her arms around you, pulling you onto her lap.

You laugh and squeal “Nat, I’m gonna spill my food everywhere.”

She takes the bowl out of your hand, putting it next to hers and then presses kisses to your face “Thanks for cooking but… There’s something I need more than food right now.”

You giggle as she keeps kissing your face and holds you tightly in her lap “Oh yeah? What do you need?”

“You.” Natasha kisses your lips, kissing you almost desperately “I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

“Nat, I’d never-”

“I’m serious. I know I can be moody sometimes. I know I can be a lot. But I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” Natasha leans her forehead against yours “I need you. And I’ll do my best to show you that every day. I promise.”

You smile and kiss her back “Seriously though, I worked hard on this food. Can we eat it?”

!! You met at a rooftop block party in Bludhaven. You were stringing up fairy lights and humming along to a playlist full of disco and pop. Dick showed up to check on noise complaints and ended up helping you hang the last strand.

!! You offered him a lemonade as a thank you for helping set up and said, “You look like someone who knows how to dance, you should stay for the party!” He grinned. “I do know how to dance, don't tempt me with a good time.”

!! You love to greet dogs on the street. On one of your first dates, the two of you were walking around a park and you waved and cooed at a puppy you past, and Dick did the exact same. That made you both just stop and stare at each other like you'd fallen in love immediately. (you totally had)

!! You both wave at kids in strollers. You both say “thank you” to bus drivers and compliment baristas on their latte art. It’s not performative, it’s just who you are.

You loved accessories. You had so many earrings, notebooks, different color shoelaces, tons of different bracelets, everything you had ever been gifted you kept.

!! Dick doesn’t wear many accessories, especially not the bright and jingly ones you do, but he’s the guy who’ll hold your sequined purse without flinching. He'll help you pick out which nail polish, and say “You look like literal sunshine, babe.” when you walk into the room.

!! You once gave him a star shaped pin you bought just for him, and now he wears it on his jacket pocket.

!! You both love movement. You dance in the kitchen, stretch on rooftops, race each other across crosswalks and parking lots.

!! You once challenged him to a cartwheel contest in the park, which he obviously won. You accused him of cheating via acrobat privilege. He kissed your cheek and teased, “You’re just mad I stuck the landing.”

!! You both talk with your hands. You both laugh easily. You both cry during movies even though Dick tries to hide it. You once caught him tearing up during a documentary about penguins. You handed him a tissue and said, “It’s okay. They’re very committed partners.” He sniffled and nodded.

!! You love giving gifts, and soon into your relationship you realized that the he also loved giving gifts. You leave sticky notes in his gear bag. He leaves flowers on your windowsill. You once gave him a homemade bookmark with a quote about hope. He gave you a first edition comic book with a handwritten note, “You're my favorite story.”

!! You may be lots of smiles and love, but life can get very overwhelming and the overstimulation gets to you. When this happens, he'll just wrap you in his arms and hum so that the noisiness of the world gets drowned out.

!! You learned how to comfort and ground him when he gets overwhelmed by responsibility. You just bring him to sit down, take away the tablet or files or any distractions, run your hands through his hair, and tell him the one thing that you mean with all your heart. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

!! You once showed up to a dinner wearing matching socks with Dick. You got them while you were on your way back from walking Haley, you saw the little blue bats and immediately bought them. At the dinner with his family, you hadn’t planned it. You just matched.

!! Jason groaned. Damian looked personally offended. Bruce blinked. Dick winked at you and said, “We’re just built different.”

!! You once brought very carefully decorated sugar cookies to the precinct where Dick was working for an ongoing mission. He tried to act cool, but the second you left, he handed them out like they were gold.

!! One of the cops asked, “Is she always like that?” Dick said, “Yeah. Isn’t it great?” He didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the shift.

!! When you’re both tired, you don’t talk much. You just curl up together with your legs tangled, hands linked, and your fingers tangled in his hair.

!! Dick hums sometimes, soft and low. You trace patterns on his back. It’s not dramatic or loud. It’s just safe.

!! The one thing that was your biggest flaw, or your best traits, you both believe in people. You both get hurt because of it, but you never stop trying. You once told him, “Hope isn’t naïve. It’s brave.”

!! He looked at you for a long time, then said, “You’re the bravest person I know.” You didn’t need him to say that, you weren't doubting yourself in the moment, but you kept those words filed away in your memory and you think of them every time the world feels too hard.

ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

⤿ tim drake. damian wayne. jason todd.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”