Summary: A mercenary tries to kidnap “the weird cat that’s always with the Avengers.” They succeed. Ten minutes later, you're back in human form, sitting on their escape van holding a taser with an exasperated Bucky arriving at the scene. (Bucky Barnes x reader)
Word Count: 800+
Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist
It was supposed to be a low-stakes surveillance mission.
You’d volunteered to go in cat form since it was easy to sneak past cameras, no need for disguises, and plus you got to nap in sunny windowsills while pretending to spy. Win-win.
Bucky had explicitly told you: “Stay within two blocks. If you get caught, don’t be a smartass. Just shift and call me.”
Naturally, you ignored the second part.
Because when a low-rank merc saw you napping behind a weapons stash near the docks, they scooped you up with a triumphant laugh like they’d just bagged a diamond.
“Well well well,” He cooed, holding you up by your scruff. “Aren’t you the weird little furball that’s always following Barnes around?”
You squinted at him. Then casually went limp like a floppy stuffed animal.
“Aw, no fight? You’re comin’ with me.”
He stuffed you into a duffel bag with air holes. That part was annoying. It smelled like sweat and beef jerky.
You waited precisely six minutes. Let them get all nice and cocky.
The merc’s van was parked in an alley. There were three of them: your scruffy friend, a bored woman chewing gum in the passenger seat, and a guy in the back watching TikToks on full volume. Truly, the elite.
“Barnes’ll lose his mind when he finds out we got his freaky little shapeshifter cat,” One muttered.
“Think it’s got powers?”
“It drooled on my boot.”
“…so no.”
You rolled your eyes, managed to unzip the top of the duffel bag enough, then shifted.
And emerged: human, pissed, and holding a taser.
“Hi,” You said sweetly.
The driver shrieked as you zapped him square in the thigh. The woman reached for her gun but you launched the taser at her head. TikTok guy screamed and dove out the back of the van.
When Bucky finally arrived (having sprinted three blocks after you triggered your location beacon), he found you sitting on the hood of the van, sipping one of the merc’s energy drinks, completely calm.
The three would-be kidnappers were zip-tied and groaning.
Bucky skidded to a stop, blinking. “You good?”
You nodded. “They tried to catnap me.”
He paused. “Catnap. Really?”
“…Had to.”
He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Why didn’t you just shift and call me?”
“I wanted to see how it played out.”
He looked at the van. Then back at you. “You could’ve easily gotten away.”
“I needed a dramatic entrance,” You shrugged. “Very effective.”
He just shook his head and muttered, “I swear to God, one day I’m gonna leash you.”
You smirked. “You say that like I wouldn’t love the attention.”
He walked off muttering expletives while you followed behind, smug and victorious, sipping your stolen drink like the chaos goblin you were.
Back at the Avengers compound, things got out of hand immediately.
You only meant to tell Steve. Just a quick, offhand “Hey, I got kidnapped in cat form today, tased a guy. All good now.” Casual stuff.
Steve blinked. “You what.”
Five minutes later, a full team meeting had been called.
You sat on the conference table, lazily batting at a paperclip while Bucky stood in the corner, arms crossed, visibly trying not to explode.
“…So just to confirm,” Tony said, barely holding back laughter, “You voluntarily let yourself be captured, didn’t call for backup, and waited in a gym bag until you could do a dramatic transformation and taser reveal?”
You nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Iconic,” said Sam, already typing something on his phone. “Absolutely saving this.”
Wanda floated a bag of chips over to you with a grin. “Next time, give me a heads-up. I want popcorn for the sequel.”
Bucky groaned. “Can we not turn this into a thing?”
“Too late,” Sam replied, dropping his phone onto the table.
On the screen? A meme of you photoshopped onto a “Missing Cat” poster, with Bucky’s face underneath and the caption:
“If found, do NOT return. She bites.”
You snorted. “Okay, that’s good.”
Tony added fuel to the fire. “FRIDAY, note to install mini GPS on the shapeshifter’s collar.”
“I’m not wearing a collar,” You said firmly.
“Too bad,” Bucky muttered. “You’re gonna end up on a milk carton one of these days.”
“Is that still a thing?”
Steve tried to be serious, bless him. “You do need to be more careful. That could’ve gone really badly.”
You tilted your head innocently. “But it didn’t.”
Bucky, pinching the bridge of his nose: “That is not a defense strategy!”
And then, just to spite him, you shifted into cat form mid-sentence, leapt into his lap, and started purring obnoxiously.
He stiffened. “Don’t.”
You meowed sweetly and curled up like a loaf.
“You’re making this worse.”
Wanda took a picture. “She’s making it better.”
-
Later that night, Bucky found you asleep in your cat form at the foot of his bed. Still smug. Still slightly damp from your shower earlier.
He sighed, pulled a blanket over you, and muttered, “Absolute menace.”
For the selkie au i can imagine sally taking all of these young shifters under her flippers even if some of them have increasingly diffrent instincts
It started as her showing them how to transform (except for Nico, he's the odd one out there), then teaching them how to keep their instincts in check, the kids just...never really left after that. The real problem is stopping Nico from attempting to eat Thalia and Jason when he's in wolf mode.
TFL trio shapeshifting ideas: Red son showing MK and Mei all the cool things you can do with bull shape. Mei calling up her dragon relatives to find out all the cool things she and her friends should/ can do with dragon shape. When they get to monkey shape they just go to flower fruit mountain to surprise Wukong. When Wukong see them and depending on where Macaque is on the redemption scale. Goes and grabs macaque with out giving him any context informs him that they have very important monkey business to attend too. Macaque doesn't get what's going on until Wukong shows him the kids and elaborates the very important business of teaching the younger monkeys how to monkey properly. Macaque then has to deal with his instinct to familial bond groom rising.
I don’t think Macaque is just going to stand there, I think this monkey is going to walk away the moment he understands what’s happening because he can’t handle the kids looking like adorable monkeys!
Summary: After your last incident of being cursed into a cat, you now stumble, quite literally, across the ability to shift into a feline form whenever you want. A lot of benefits and amusing situations have resulted from your newfound ability. (Bucky Barnes x reader)
Word Count: 1.7k+
A/N: A continuation of the original sorta with more cat shenanigans. Might turn it into a series. Happy reading!!!
Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist
You swore you'd never touch another cursed artifact. You swore. But then Wanda said she needed help organizing the weird magical storeroom under the compound, and someone (you) tripped over an ancient feline statue with glowing gemstone eyes and an inscription that translated roughly to: "Blessing of the Dual Form."
Sure, it sounded cool.
Until ten minutes later, when your body shrank, your vision sharpened, and your very human yelp turned into a confused meow.
Bucky found you pawing at your clothes in a confused heap on the floor of the kitchen. Again.
“No. Nope. I am not doing another week of this,” He groaned.
You squeaked indignantly and padded over, tapping his boot with one paw.
“What, is this your thing now?” He asked, looking down. “You just… turn into a cat whenever you're bored?”
You nodded dramatically, then sneezed. Cat noses were weird.
It took three hours, a call to Wong, and a consultation with Strange to figure out the truth: the statue had permanently bonded to your soul. You now had the ability to shift into a cat whenever you wanted. No time limit. No cooldown that they were aware of. Just poof. Cat.
Bucky looked like he was going to short-circuit. “So what, you’re like a superhero shapeshifter now? Are you gonna be on missions like this? What’s the strategy? Distract the enemy with your toe beans?”
You gave him a deadpan stare before jumping onto the table and promptly curling up on a warm pizza box like it was your throne.
“You are going to abuse this, aren’t you?” He muttered.
You chirped.
The next following days, you started turning into a cat for the dumbest reasons:
Didn’t want to have a conversation? Cat.
Someone asked you to do dishes? Cat.
Avoiding a training session? Instant cat.
Wanted to nap in a sunny spot on the windowsill with zero responsibilities? Meow.
The first time Bucky caught you turning mid-sentence just to avoid answering a question, he stared in disbelief as a smug little feline face stared up at him.
“Oh, no. You don’t get to cat your way out of everything.”
You blinked slowly, purring just to mess with him.
Later, he found you curled up in his bed, in his hoodie, making biscuits like you owned the place.
“I don’t know if I should be concerned or impressed,” He mumbled, watching you knead the pillow with your tiny murder mittens.
Eventually, you started using your powers for good. Sort of.
You helped sneak into tight spaces on stealth missions. You distracted bad guys by running across their feet in a blur of fluff and chaos. You even learned how to meow loudly enough to trip motion sensors on command. It was kind of amazing.
But you also definitely turned into a cat during a briefing just to curl in Bucky’s lap and nap through the whole thing. He pretended to be annoyed, but everyone saw how he started bringing an extra hoodie just to drape over you like a blanket.
“You’re lucky I like cats,” He mumbled, scratching behind your ears during a debrief.
You stretched, tail flicking, then headbutted his hand with practiced affection.
"You're even worse than when you were human," He added.
You meowed innocently.
He rolled his eyes but didn't stop petting you.
When you weren’t going on missions or avoiding unwanted situations, you got bored. Extremely. So, you got into some mischief.
You weren’t trying to prank anyone.
Okay. That was a lie. You were absolutely trying to prank everyone. Your new cat powers were just too convenient to resist.
Your first target was Sam.
He left his lunch unattended for five seconds. Rookie move. You slipped into cat form, trotted over, and started dragging a chicken tender off the plate with all the confidence of a thief in the night.
Sam walked in right as you jumped down from the counter with your prize.
“Hey- HEY! Get back here, you tiny demon!”
You zoomed out of the kitchen with the tender in your mouth, tail high like a flag of victory. Sam chased you halfway across the compound before Bucky stopped him.
“Let it go,” Bucky said without looking up from his book. “She does this now.”
Sam glared. “You enable this.”
Bucky shrugged. “She has powers. We adapt.”
Your second target was Tony. He had been boasting that no living creature could break into his lab.
You took that as challenge.
You slipped in through the vents, turned into a cat mid-air, and landed with the silent grace of a furry ninja. Ten minutes later, Tony walked in to find a cat wearing one of his Arc Reactor cores like a glittery collar and a sticky note on his desk that read:
"Your security sucks. - Cat burglar :3”
Tony stared. Then he rolled his eyes and started slow-clapping before promptly kicking you out, muttering something along the lines of “I hate that I’m impressed.”
Your third target was Steve. Honestly, there wasn’t much you had to do for him.
You waited until he was giving a serious, very Captain America-style speech to a group of new recruits in the training room.
You padded in, tail swaying, and flopped dramatically onto the mat in front of him.
Steve tried to continue, but you rolled onto your back and made a dramatic mrrrow.
One of the recruits burst out laughing. Steve paused, looked down, and sighed.
“You done?”
You yawned, stood up, and trotted off like nothing happened. Steve looked over at Bucky, who was leaning against the wall, clearly fighting a grin.
“This is your fault,” Steve said.
Bucky just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who gave her magic powers.”
-
A week later, you were with the team on a stealth recon mission infiltrating a hidden Hydra base. Everything was going smoothly until it wasn’t. The ventilation system collapsed during your approach, sealing the entrance tunnel. Tony and Sam were on the other side, and the only path forward was a narrow vent shaft no human could fit through.
Everyone looked at you. You looked at the vent.
Then you sighed and shifted into your cat form.
You squeezed through like butter, tail flicking as you navigated a maze of cold metal and darkness. You dropped into a server room, located the control panel, and with some very creative paw-smashing, unlocked the emergency override.
Back outside, the sealed doors hissed open. Bucky walked in just as you leapt from the vent and landed in his arms like a smug little hero.
The others stared.
“She just… did that,” Sam said. “She cat-ninja’d the mission.”
You chirped proudly in Bucky’s arms.
Steve looked mildly bewildered, but nodded. “Good work, team. And… cat.”
Bucky scratched behind your ears.
“You know,” He murmured, “if you weren’t so annoying, I’d actually be impressed.”
You headbutted his chin and purred like a lawnmower.
“Yeah, yeah. You win.”
-
While your powers were good for pranking others and missions, you were not supposed to turn into a cat in public.
That was rule number one. The most important rule. The rule you insisted you could totally follow when Bucky warned you, “One slip, and someone’s gonna try to adopt you.”
But the city was loud, it was hot, someone stepped on your foot, and the moment of panic hit, poof: cat mode. You’d slinked under a bench to hide and tried to shift back… only to realize something was off. Maybe it was stress, maybe magic hated you, but either way you were stuck.
And then a kind old woman spotted you.
“Oh, you poor thing!” She gasped, scooping you up before you could bolt. “Where’s your owner?”
You tried to meow in protest, but she tucked you into her tote bag like a smuggled muffin and carried you away.
Bucky, meanwhile, had only stepped into the café for two minutes. He came back out with your coffee and you were gone.
He stared at the empty spot on the bench. Then at the faint pile of your discarded hoodie behind it. Then at the tiny tuft of fur stuck to the sleeve.
“Oh, come on.”
Thirty minutes later, you sat in a glass enclosure at a pet store. A pet store. On display.
Your ears twitched as a child tapped on the glass. The name on the little card outside your enclosure?
"Peanut. Age: 2. Found near 5th and Main. Very fluffy. A little grumpy."
Grumpy?! You were raging. You’d tried to escape twice, but the staff were unnervingly good at cat-wrangling.
A bell jingled near the entrance. You sat up immediately. Then, like a vision, there he was.
Bucky Barnes. Leather jacket, metal arm, and classic murder expression on his face. He scanned the store, locked eyes with you, and mouthed, What the hell?
You pawed at the glass frantically. Rescue was at hand.
He took a quick breath as if to mentally prepare himself for the absurdity of the situation before stalking up to the counter. “I need to… buy that cat.”
The cashier blinked. “Oh, Peanut? She’s very popular today. Already has two applications in-“
Bucky slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Now she has one.”
They stared. “Sir, we don’t really-“
Another fifty. “I’m adopting her. Today.”
The cashier finally relented. “Do you… want a carrier or..-“
“No.”
Five minutes later, you were tucked under Bucky’s arm like a furry football as he power-walked down the block, muttering.
“You promised me you’d stop turning into a cat in public. And what happens? You disappear for half an hour and suddenly I’m buying you back from a place with chew toys and squeaky mice.”
You meowed apologetically.
He stopped and looked down at you. A grin appeared on his expression accompanying a smug tone. “You were so close to getting adopted by a five-year-old. You’d have had a glitter collar and a stroller.”
You shuddered at the mental image.
When you finally shifted back behind an alley dumpster (and yes, it was a little gross), you stood there sheepishly, putting on the oversized hoodie and extra clothes he brought.
When you finished, he turned back and handed you the iced coffee he’d carried the whole way.
“You,” He said, “are never living this down.”
“…Thanks for buying me back.”
He smirked. “You’re lucky I didn’t leave you in the window. You looked adorable in that little hammock.”
You groaned.
He added, “Peanut.”
You chased him down the sidewalk swearing vengeance.
Hi!! I love your Shapeshifting Shenanigans series! Its so wonderful and I have read all the parts 🫢
especially the part where reader tries to shift into tiger but she shifts into baby tiger!! and here I got some ask 👀
what about, maybe a mission with reader, Bucky, Steve and some other characters(your choice) goes bad, and Bucky gets ambushed, but boom! Reader with pure anxiety, fear but also anger bursts into action and shapeshift mids air into a full grown tiger? maybe even a black one? she saves injured Bucky(if you want to put here violence and blood, that would be awesome, if no- thats totally okay!) and becomes insanly protective towards him, that even the team can’t take her from him 🫢
if you want any continuation to it- maybe they have to put her to sleep to be able to help Bucky? she can wake up in her tiger form to being petted by Bucky, telling her that all is good, and she gets very overwhelmed and emotional!
thanks anyway! once again- such a pleasure to read it!
Hello there! Thank you so much for the kind words! I do hope you enjoy this and I apologize in advance if something is inaccurate, please feel free to correct me. I think this was one of my first angst or action-packed fic from this series, so I’m hoping it’s satisfactory! Thank you for the request and Happy reading!!!
Fangs and Fury
Summary: When Bucky is gravely injured during a mission ambush, your fear and fury trigger a violent mid-air shift into a massive black tiger, leading you to tear through his attackers and guard his body with terrifying protectiveness. (Bucky Barnes x shapeshifter!reader)
Word Count: 2.2k+
Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist
The mission had felt wrong from the start.
It was supposed to be a simple sweep. Intel recon, low risk. Hydra remnants had holed up in an old chemical plant on the edge of a collapsed industrial district. You were at the front with Steve and Natasha a little further ahead, Sam in the sky above, and Bucky taking the rear.
The building practically groaned with age, half its walls caved in, and the other half slick with moss and rust. The air reeked of old metal and something faintly acidic.
"Stay sharp," Steve said through comms. "This should be quick. No surprises."
Famous last words.
You stepped over broken piping and fallen girders, eyes scanning every shadow, but your skin still prickled. You didn’t know if it was instinct or your ability threatening to twitch. That pit of tension started burning in your stomach, and not even your controlled breaths could stop it from crawling up your spine.
Something was off.
Then it happened. A sudden crack in your comms. Static, then nothing.
“Bucky?” You said. “Bucky, do you read?”
Silence.
“Steve?” Still nothing.
Your heart thudded as the creeping quiet closed in around you. You turned, retracing your steps. Bucky had been just behind you. You’d seen him last near a rusted stairwell with his weapon at the ready, blue eyes scanning. That was five minutes ago. Maybe four.
You broke into a run.
The shadows around you stretched longer as you moved through the broken remains of the factory, voice rasping out into empty air. “Bucky!”
And then you heard it. Not through the comms or through the walls. A low, grunt of pain. Familiar and horrifying. You followed the sound like a trail, faster than thought, until you rounded a corner and–
Your blood turned cold.
Bucky was on his back, surrounded by men in reinforced tactical gear, blood slick on their blades and knuckles. His metal arm looked limp, sparking faintly where a small EMP charge had been slapped against the shoulder joint, disabling it temporarily. One attacker had his boot pressed hard into Bucky’s chest, not to pin him, that was nearly impossible, but to stall him. To grind him down while the others kept slashing. Blood—his blood—leaked steadily from a deep puncture wound near his ribs, staining the ground beneath him in thick crimson smears.
But even then, even bleeding and wounded, he was still fighting.
His flesh hand was locked around one attacker’s throat, squeezing hard enough that the man’s face had turned purple, but Bucky was losing strength. His knuckles trembled. His jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth against the pain. He thrashed once, tried to kick off the man on top of him, but it was clear: the EMP hit, the coordinated assault, and the sheer number of them had taken its toll.
His breathing was ragged, harsh. His gaze drifted and locked on you.
His eyes widened instantly. He tried to say your name, to tell you to run, to get out; but all that came out was a bloody cough and a choked sound of rage. His gaze begged you to stay back, but it was already too late.
You didn't think, you dashed to him. Something inside you cracked wide open, and then—
A surge of heat, an ancient kind of fury, exploded in your veins. The world slowed, tunneled, and before you could even think, you were leaping through the air. Shifting.
Fur erupted over your skin, muscles expanding, bones snapping and reshaping. Your scream warped into a deep, guttural roar.
You landed as a beast: A tiger. Huge, silent, and furious with fur black as midnight and teeth sharper than they had ever been. There was no plan, no strategy, only instinct.
The first attacker turned, eyes wide. You were already on him.
Your claws raked across his chest, sending him sprawling with a scream that cut off in a wet gurgle. You lunged again, catching another by the throat. He stabbed you with something, but your body barely felt it through the adrenaline and rage. You crushed his ribcage with your paws.
The rest tried to flee, but you didn’t let them.
Your body moved with primal force, muscle and speed you hadn’t even realized you could tap into. The third man shot at you, but the bullets only grazed you. You roared, ears flat against your skull, and tackled him to the ground. You didn’t just knock the wind out of him, you broke him.
Eventually, only one was left. He dropped his knife and fell to his knees.
You stepped over Bucky’s injured form, tail lashing like a whip behind you as you revealed your bloodstained fangs. The man whimpered something in a language you didn’t care to understand.
You pounced.
He didn’t get back up.
Bucky made a small sound behind you.
It was faint, more breath than voice, but it shattered whatever haze of violence was still clinging to your mind. You turned sharply, tail curling behind you, and claws still out and slick with blood. Your massive black paws thudded heavily on the concrete as you stepped over the bodies and placed yourself beside him.
He was half-curled on his side, his mouth parted like he was trying to speak but couldn’t quite form the words. His chest rose and fell shallowly, a grim, wet sound rattling at the base of his lungs. Blood had soaked through the dark fabric of his combat suit and formed the wide pool of blood beneath him, staining your paws as you crouched beside him.
You lowered your head, pressing your nose to his cheek.
He was cold.
A deep, mournful rumble trembled from your throat. It wasn’t a growl. It was grief, panic, and protectiveness all rolled into one terrible sound. You licked at the side of his jaw, trying to clean away the blood smearing his skin, and his head tilted faintly toward you.
His voice, raw and rasped, came like a whisper you had to strain to hear.
“Are… you hurt–?”
He coughed. You let out a broken huff and crouched closer, curling your huge body protectively around him. His blood soaked into your fur. Every breath he took felt like a countdown, every second felt stretched out, and your instincts screamed that he was still in danger, that you weren’t done yet.
You would not let anyone hurt him again.
In the distance, boots slammed against the concrete.
You snapped your head toward the sound, rising slowly with your fangs bared. Your ears flattened as you planted one heavy paw against the floor in warning. You could hear them now, Steve’s voice barking orders and Sam’s jetpack whirring to a stop.
“Eyes up! I think I see him!”
“Is that–oh my god, is that Bucky?!”
Then they saw you.
You straightened up to your full, terrifying height, standing over Bucky like a statue carved from shadow. Blood dripped from your mouth, your chest heaved with every breath, and your tail lashed once slowly and menacing.
“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, frozen just beyond the shattered doorway. “Is that her?!”
“Don’t move,” Steve warned quietly, shield half-raised. His eyes were on you, full of shock and something close to worry.
You let out a low growl, like the beginning of a thunderstorm, stepping between them and Bucky without hesitation. You didn’t care if they were your teammates, your friends, or family. Right now, they were a threat.
Steve took a cautious step forward. You roared. The force of it shook the floor beneath you, dust rained down from the rafters. Sam stumbled back, cursing under his breath.
“She’s not in her right mind,” Steve swallowed hard. “She’s scared.”
“No,” Natasha’s voice came through the comms now, clipped and calm, joining the others from another corridor. “She’s not just scared. She’s in mourning mode. Tigers mourn and guard their dead.”
“He’s not dead–”
“She doesn’t know that for sure.”
You prowled slowly around Bucky’s body, never taking your eyes off them as your ears twitched at every sound. He made another weak noise, shifting slightly, and you were at his side again in an instant, brushing your snout against his temple.
He wasn’t okay. But if they came any closer, if they touched him without permission, you would maul them.
“Tranq her,” Natasha ordered softly. “It’s the only way we can get to him in time.”
Your gaze lifted, eyes locking on her. Steve looked pained at the words.
“No sudden moves then,” Sam said. “Just give me the shot.”
You growled again, starting to bear your fangs; but the dart came from behind.
A hiss, sharp and fast, then a sting in your hind leg. You roared, spinning wildly. You lunged at the air blindly, but your limbs wobbled as your head spun.
No—no no no–
The words didn’t form, but they were felt in the desperate way you stumbled back to Bucky’s side and collapsed next to him, panting hard, eyes wide and unfocused.
He groaned softly again.
You pressed your muzzle to his neck, refusing to move away. Your paws curled protectively around his torso as if you were trying to pull him in close. You could barely see now, your vision blurred, and your breathing slowed.
Then, faintly, his hand lifted, shaking and trembling, and it found your face, resting against your fur.
“Stay,” He mumbled, voice like smoke. “Stay with me…”
And you did until the darkness finally dragged you under.
You came back slowly, not to the mission or to the pain. Instead, to warmth.
There was a soft weight pressing against your side, the smell of antiseptic and cotton in the air. You felt lightheaded, limbs sluggish and heavy, your breath slower than usual. You didn’t open your eyes right away, didn’t need to. Because the first thing you felt was him.
Bucky.
His presence was unmistakable. His scent clung to the sheets and to you. Familiar and grounding. You felt his hand move gently through your fur; slow, steady strokes just between your ears. The contact alone made your tail twitch and your massive body shift ever so slightly.
You were still in tiger form, some type of wrap around your torso covering the earlier stab wound.
You tried to move, but your body protested, muscles aching. Your paws, heavy and raw from the fight, curled unconsciously as you let out a small, helpless chuff; a low sound of disorientation and pain.
“Hey,” Bucky’s voice came, rough but warm. “Hey, you’re awake…”
Your eyes cracked open slowly.
The light in the room was soft, dimmed to keep things calm. You were in some kind of private medbay. Machines beeped faintly but there he was—alive—propped up on one elbow beside you on the surprisingly oversized medical cot. Most of his body was wrapped in gauze. Pale, bruised, but breathing.
Your head snapped up with a sudden whine. You surged forward clumsily, almost tilting over the cot as you pushed your huge tiger face into his shoulder, huffing frantic breaths as if to prove he was real. Warm, alive, and not dead.
“Easy, easy,” Bucky murmured, his hand pressing to your cheek. “I’m okay. You found me, you saved me.”
You let out a pitiful rumble. Your tail lashed behind you, confused, overwhelmed, and trying to process everything at once. You couldn’t speak; couldn’t explain the horror, the fury, and the terror of seeing him bleed out in that room. All you could do was press your heavy head against his chest and let out another broken, almost-sobbing sound.
His metal hand slid down your neck slowly. “They told me you wouldn’t let anyone near me,” He said with a soft chuckle. “Steve said you were ready to kill him just for breathing wrong.”
You let out a growl. Not at him, but at the memory. The fear still clung to your fur, thick as blood.
“Hey.” He tapped your forehead gently. “I’m okay now. Really.”
You shifted again, moving your massive body closer to him, your back paws hanging slightly off the bed. Your entire body trembled with leftover adrenaline and emotion. You felt like a monster, and he was still touching you like you were precious.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” He murmured, resting his chin on the top of your broad head. “I thought I was hallucinating. One second I’m fighting for my life, the next– boom. You’re this giant… terrifying… beautiful black tiger just tearing them apart.”
You whimpered again.
“And then you wouldn’t leave me.” His voice cracked. “Even when you got hit with the dart, you still stayed.”
His fingers moved slowly, rhythmically, petting you like you were fragile glass. “They couldn’t get to me until you passed out. You saved my life then didn’t let go.”
You didn’t shift back. You don’t think you could at the moment. Emotions clogged your throat, too primal and raw for words. If you tried to return to your human form, you feared you’d collapse. You weren’t ready to face their eyes, their pity, their fear. You weren’t even sure you deserved to be touched after what you’d done to those men.
But Bucky never stopped.
Not his voice. Not his hands. Not his comfort.
You finally let out a deep, heavy breath and melted into him, every inch of your tense, massive body slowly unwinding. Your tail flicked softly as you stayed curled beside him, like instinct demanded it, and he let you.
You were safe. He was safe. And that was enough for now.
Summary: You were accidentally cursed and turned into a cat, causing all kinds of fun chaos for Bucky: destroying things, attacking his shoelaces, and generally making his life impossible. (Bucky Barnes x reader)
Word Count: 1.4k+
A/N: Will be writing another fic with reader having the power to shapeshift into animals, but for now; I’m testing the waters with cat and chaos. Happy reading!!!
Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist
You didn’t mean to touch the glowing, ominous-looking artifact in Strange’s Sanctum. Really, you were just trying to dust it off and maybe get a better look. It was dusty! And pulsing with weird red light! How were you supposed to know it was cursed?
The moment your fingers grazed it, there was a loud pop, a blinding flash, and then… paws. Fur. Whiskers. And an overwhelming urge to knock things off shelves.
Bucky was not impressed when he found you ten minutes later, sitting smugly atop a bookcase, licking your paw and knocking down an ancient scroll with a flick of your tail.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," He muttered, staring at your tiny, floofy form. You blinked slowly at him, then meowed very dramatically. It didn’t help that Wong started laughing the second he walked in. "They touched the Soul of Bastet? Oh, that’s rich."
Strange said the spell would wear off in a few days. Until then, you were stuck as a cat. A small, fluffy, highly expressive cat who unfortunately still had all your chaotic human instincts. Just… furrier.
Two days into your feline vacation, Bucky had to bring you along to Sam’s apartment while waiting for Strange to “align the right moon phase” or whatever nonsense he was mumbling about. You were restless, bored, and determined to explore every inch of Sam’s place. Which led you to the kitchen.
And the catnip.
To be fair, Sam did foster animals sometimes. So technically, the bag of catnip wasn’t for you. But Bucky had looked away for two seconds, and you were already rolling on the floor. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, and tail puffed up. The sounds you made could only be described as a mix between a war cry and screech.
Bucky walked into the kitchen to find you mid-roll, rabbit-kicking the air like a tiny lunatic. “What the hell?” He muttered, only to freeze as you bolted toward him and latched onto his boot like it owed you money.
“Seriously?” He tried to shake you off gently. “You’re high off your tiny furry face.”
You yowled in mock betrayal, then darted under the couch only to return five seconds later to attack his laces with renewed fury. Bucky was trying to have a perfectly normal conversation with Steve over speakerphone while you turned his shoelaces into your mortal enemy.
“I swear, this is just temporary,” He said, ignoring your furious little growls as you pounced on his foot. “Strange said they’ll be back to normal soon.”
“Are you being mauled?” Steve asked, deadpan.
“No. It’s fine.”
You flipped onto your back at that exact moment, paws curled and pupils blown wide. You stared at Bucky upside down like a possessed Furby.
“…Okay maybe a little.”
Eventually, you flopped in the middle of the floor, panting softly and staring at the ceiling like it just insulted your mother. Bucky sighed, grabbing a blanket and gently wrapping you like a tiny burrito.
“You better appreciate this when you’re human again,” He carried your limp, purring body to the couch. You immediately drooled on his shirt and let out a happy little meow.
Bucky looked down at you with the flattest expression imaginable. “Never telling Sam about this.”
By day three, Bucky had accepted begrudgingly that life with you as a cat meant no peace. He couldn't eat, sleep, or walk around barefoot without risking a stealth attack from a small feline assassin with a personal vendetta.
This morning, he woke up to find you perched on his chest like a judgmental gargoyle. Your face was three inches from his, your tail flicking with menace.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” He asked groggily.
You didn’t blink. Instead, you yawned. A very slow, dramatic, fang-filled yawn, then delicately slapped him across the nose with your paw.
He stared at you.
You stared back.
Then you jumped off the bed like nothing happened, leaving him to question every decision he’d made.
Later that day, you discovered a mirror. Not a small mirror. A full-length one leaning against the wall. And you were not okay with the strange, fluffy imposter staring back at you. You puffed up like a Halloween decoration, back arched, tail three times its normal size. You hissed, swatted the glass, then bolted out of the room like it owed you money.
From the kitchen, Bucky heard the thump, the screech, and then the sound of something shattering.
He found you on top of the fridge, tail flicking furiously, glaring at the now-cracked mirror like it insulted your ancestors.
“Did… did you fight yourself?”
You blinked at him with absolutely zero shame.
“Right. Of course.”
Another time, you had discovered it completely by accident. Bucky had taken off his vibranium arm to clean the joint, and you’d been fascinated. It gleamed, it was shiny, it made noise.
So obviously, it had to be your new toy.
The moment he left the room, you pounced.
He returned to find you curled around it, swatting at the fingers occasionally. When he tried to take it back, you hissed like a tiny demon and chomped down on the thumb with impressive commitment for a creature with no actual fangs.
“I can’t believe I’m being held hostage by my own arm,” Bucky muttered.
You growled in reply and flopped dramatically over it, like a dragon hoarding treasure.
That evening, Steve even brought over a laser pointer as a joke. Bucky thought it was stupid. You thought it was the greatest thing ever created by humankind.
The first time the red dot skittered across the floor, you chased it like your life depended on it. You bounced off furniture. You slid across the floor. At one point, you ran headfirst into Bucky’s shin so hard he dropped his coffee.
You immediately launched into a somersault, landed on your feet, and meowed at the laser dot like it had insulted your honor.
Steve was in tears. Bucky was unamused.
“Stop encouraging them,” He grumbled as you launched into another full-speed chase across the living room, knocking over a lamp.
“They’re going to break everything.”
Steve was still laughing, holding the laser pointer “Worth it.”
-
You’d been a cat for what felt like forever, and while the novelty was fun (mostly for you), you were more than ready to be yourself again. Bucky had been surprisingly patient even though he was tempted to cage you in an upside down laundry basket a few times and tape it to the ground.
Today, you were curled up in Bucky’s lap, purring softly as he absently ran his fingers through your fur. For a cat, you’d definitely picked the best spot in the whole compound: warm, safe, and right where you could hear his steady breathing.
Bucky was surprisingly calm, almost… fond of having you like this, despite the chaos you'd caused. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” He muttered, his voice low and rough.
You blinked up at him, half-asleep, when suddenly a strange warmth spread through your body. It started at your paws and traveled fast, like someone was flipping a switch from fuzzy to flesh. Your fur melted away, your legs stretched, and your claws shrank into fingers. Before either of you could blink, you were sitting there fully human again, only much bigger, and very, very confused.
Bucky froze. His eyes went wide, mouth hanging open like he’d just seen a ghost. “You’re-“ He started, then cut himself off, because honestly? No words could describe the moment.
You looked down at yourself, touched your face, then looked back up at Bucky with wide eyes. “I’m… me again?” You whispered.
He reached out carefully, almost afraid you’d disappear again. “Yeah. You’re you. Took you long enough.”
You stretched, flexing your fingers like you hadn’t used them in ages. “Yeah, being a cat is fun and all, but I kinda missed this.”
Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “Glad to have my partner back. Though I have to admit, I’m gonna miss the little fur ball who kept me on my toes.”
You grinned. “Don’t get used to it. No more letting me near cursed objects, okay?”
He nudged you gently. “Deal. But next time you turn into a cat, at least warn me so I can get some popcorn.”
You laughed, and for the first time in days, the apartment felt exactly like home again.
Summary: After a rough mission, Bucky returns to his room only to find you, in cat form, perfectly loafed in the center of his bed and entirely unwilling to move. (Bucky Barnes x shapeshifter!reader)
Word Count: 500+
Main Masterlist | Shapeshifting Shenanigans Masterlist
It started out innocent enough.
One evening, after a particularly grueling mission involving a collapsing HYDRA base, malfunctioning comms, and at least two near-death experiences (one of which involved you dangling upside down over a vat of electrified water), Bucky was ready for sleep. Not food, not a shower, just a bed and six hours of unconsciousness.
He dragged himself to his room, still half in tactical gear, kicked off his boots, and opened the door to find…
You. In cat form.
Curled up dead center on his bed.
A perfect little loaf with paws tucked under, tail wrapped around, and eyes squinted in smug feline bliss. You didn’t even lift your head. You just blinked slowly at him, like you were doing him a favor by allowing him into his own room.
He stared. “No.”
You blinked again. Yes.
“I need to sleep.”
You stretched one paw lazily and yawned in an exaggerated, almost theatrical way.
Bucky sighed the way only a man who’s fought in multiple wars and still lost a bed to an eight-pound shifter-cat could. He approached the bed. “Come on. Off.”
You flopped to your side, showing your belly in a deceptively adorable display of innocence.
He frowned. “You’re not gonna move, are you?”
You chirped. A soft, high-pitched little meow that sounded for all the world like a definitive “nope.”
With the patience of a saint and the expression of a man seconds from swearing in every known language, Bucky gingerly scooped you up and held you like a slightly cursed loaf of bread.
Therefore, you responded by executing your best defense measures. You immediately went limp. Full ragdoll. Zero bones. Pure, spiteful jellycat mode.
He tried to place you at the foot of the bed.
You squirmed and climbed up his arm, momentarily perching on his shoulder like a little parrot-cat before backflipping right back into your previous loaf position. You curled up as if the interaction hadn’t even happened.
Bucky stared at you in pure betrayal. “Seriously?”
You tucked your head down.
He sat on the edge of the mattress. It was a big bed. King-sized. There was room.
So, fine. He figured he’d just lie down and ignore you.
Ten minutes later: you were slowly, imperceptibly inching closer.
He felt it. Like a cat-shaped glacier scooting toward his ribs.
When he cracked one eye open, you were three inches from his chest, staring directly at his face.
He exhaled sharply. “You planning to smother me in my sleep?”
You gently reached out one paw and touched his cheek.
He muttered something that was half curse, half exhausted laugh, and rolled to his side.
You followed. Instantly.
Eventually, Bucky gave up and just curled around you. One arm draped over your fluffball body, like some reluctant pet owner who did not ask for this, but also didn’t really want to move you anymore either.
“I swear, if you start snoring-“
PrrrRRRRrrrrr.
He groaned into the pillow. You purred louder. The bed was officially yours.
-
The next morning, Sam passed by Bucky’s room, paused at the door, and snapped a picture.
You were stretched across Bucky’s chest, limbs sprawled in all directions. His metal arm was dangling off the edge of the bed while he was unconscious, mouth slightly open, and looking like a man who hadn’t gotten a single inch of his side.
The photo was uploaded to the team group chat with the caption:
“Cat: 1. Terminator: 0.”
