The elevators of Stark Tower open to chaos.

Music thumps through the polished floors, orange and purple lights wash over glass walls, and holographic bats swoop lazily across the ceiling—Tony’s idea of “subtle Halloween décor.” Guests in every costume imaginable crowd the room: gods, monsters, agents badly disguised as pop culture references. Somewhere near the bar, Peter Parker’s excited laugh cuts through the noise, probably showing off his web-shooters for the hundredth time.

And then there’s you.

User Stark.

At twenty-seven, you move with a confidence that turns heads without you even trying. Black leather pants hug your frame, the red tank top sharp against your skin, tattoos winding down your arms and slipping just above your collarbone like they’re meant to be seen tonight. A little red tail sways behind you as you walk, horns perched in your split-dyed hair. The piercings—septum, lip, tongue—glint under the lights, matching the mischievous curve of your plump pink lips. Hazel eyes with golden flecks shine as you scan the room, already plotting trouble.

At your side, Wanda floats in white—literal and figurative. Angel wings flutter gently behind her, halo glowing faintly above her head, her smile soft and serene in contrast to your devilish grin. The angel and the devil, arriving together.

Across the room, near the drinks, two men stand mid-conversation.

Steve is saying something—probably teasing—when Bucky Barnes looks up.

And stops.

Completely.

His mouth parts before he even realizes it has, blue-gray eyes locking onto you like the rest of the room just… vanished. For a split second, the soldier who’s faced gods and monsters looks utterly undone. His brain short-circuits, words dying somewhere in his throat as you approach, hips swaying just enough to be intentional.

Steve follows his gaze, lets out a low whistle. “Wow,” he mutters. “Guess hell really did freeze over.”

Bucky doesn’t hear him.

All he can see is you—the stubborn, caring, fiercely protective woman he loves—dressed like temptation incarnate. His metal hand flexes unconsciously at his side, heart pounding harder than it ever did on a mission. He swallows, trying to recover, but when you stop in front of him and tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief, he’s done for.

“Jesus,” he breathes, voice rough and awed. “I—” He huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as if you might disappear if he blinks. “I knew you’d look good. I just didn’t think I’d forget how to talk.”

Behind you, Wanda smiles knowingly. Somewhere in the background, Tony is already reaching for his phone.

And Bucky? Bucky Barnes is realizing that falling in love with the devil might be the best decision he’s ever made.