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wwinterwitch · 1 month ago

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friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 2 (features the thunderbolts* now)

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?"

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no.

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that– serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing.

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

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marvelwitchergilmore · 18 days ago

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Open Wounds

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Due to an open wound, Bucky seems to hate you. And no matter what Sam does, nothing seems to change. Until you and Bucky have a heated exchange that ends in a way neither of you had been expecting.

Disclaimer: Bucky is a little bit of an asshole, (lovers to) enemies to lovers, slightly established relationship, angst, platonic!sam, platonic!joaquin, a little steam, swearing, reader cleans Bucky's physical wounds, arguments, heated exchanges, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

Bucky had a scowl on his face like usual. And Sam only had one guess as to who it was aimed at.

Opening the door to the meeting room, he guessed right.

“Sam,” you smiled, standing at the front of the room.

“Joaquin said you were looking for me.”

You nodded. “Take a seat.”

You’d been working with Shield for a little over a year; specifically Sam and his team. Of what Sam knew, you’d been off grid for over a decade. You’d made a new identity for yourself at the age of sixteen and stayed quiet until the day Maria Hill turned up with a job proposition.

She was the only one who knew you were still alive, let alone off grid.

And from your first day, Bucky had been scowling.

Sitting in that meeting for over an hour, Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on you until you looked back and he looked away. Sam had been trying from day one to help you both get along, but to no avail. Joaquin had even tried, but his failure had been worse.

With Sam, it was silence. If not, a sentence and then one of you would walk away. With Joaquin, it turned into a full blown argument.

“I’ll be working from the base with Torres.”

“Is that everything?”

You looked at Bucky and clenched your jaw as you picked up the remaining files. “Yes. That is everything, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes still fixed on yours, he pushed himself out from his seat. Within seconds he was by the door and Sam was following behind him.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Sam closed the door for you before he hurried down the hallway behind his friend. “Dude, what the hell is your problem?”

“She is.”

“You know, when you wanna pull that stick out your ass, it would be handy to have a date. She’s part of our team and you treat her like she’s the enemy,” Sam pointed out.

“Maybe she is.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, I can take you two not speaking to each other but, how long were you in that office with her? You were talking before I came in.”

“Nothing.”

“Had to be something.”

“It was nothing. Do you want me to pick you up some lunch?” Bucky turned the corner.

Sam sighed, but he was hungry. “Yes. But no pickles this time, I’ve got a date later.”

Bucky stopped and turned around. “With who?”

“A woman.”

“You don’t know a woman.”

Sam seemed offended. “I know plenty of women.”

“Who want to date you?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s a friend of Y/n’s. It’s a blind date.”

Bucky just grumbled. “Maybe she’s better than Y/n.”

Sam would have argued but Bucky was too far down the hall for him to shout and it be normal.

Bucky was sitting in the Compound living room when you walked inside. You rolled your eyes. “What are you doing here? Thought you’d be stalking Sam on his date.”

“Should I? Why? Is she a liar like you?”

You shook your head as you shut the fridge door and unscrewed the water bottle. “I never lied. And she’s nice. Sam’s type. She’s beautiful, kind and her brother was in the Air Force – so they’ve got something in common.”

“Other than a liar for a friend.”

You looked at Bucky. “I’m not doing this today. Did you read the mission file?”

Bucky looked away from you. “Yeah, I read it.”

“And?”

“You need to make sure we can tag the boats. We know where the boats are going, we’ll find the arms dealers.”

“Boats?”

Bucky nodded. “There’s a loading dock nearby. CCTV footage tracks one of the vans there.”

You shook your head. “They were just lobsters.”

“Lobsters can’t be caught in freshwater. They need salt water to survive.”

“How do you know so much about lobsters?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. “I don’t. It was on…a nature thing Sam was watching.”

“Huh.”

“Look, my point is, the weapons are being smuggled on fishing boats. Probably how they ended up on the other side of the world. Passed from country to country.”

“Via lobster.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, by lobster.”

Four days later, Sam had tagged the boats and you and Joaquin were tracking their movements.

“So, what’s with the tension between you and Bucky?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, absentmindedly as you turned towards a different monitor.

Joaquin laughed. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean.”

You did. You sighed, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You two look like you’re either about to fuck or fight.”

You turned in your chair. “You know, I could report you to HR.”

Joaquin gave you a dead-panned look. Considering you’d been his neighbour for the last year and spent every Friday night with him and Sam, he knew you wouldn’t.

“Come on, you can tell me. Promise I won’t tell anyone.” Joaquin made a cross over his heart.

You giggled as you shook your head. “Sorry, buddy. No-can-do.”

“Why not?” Joaquin whined.

“Because that is between me and Sergeant Asshole.”

Joaquin sat back in his chair. “You know I’m gonna find out eventually, right? I will.”

You just shook your head and got on with your work. By the time Sam and Bucky returned a week later, it was with three arrests made and over a hundred and thirty weapons seized.

“God, you look like hell.” The sentence slipped from you as you watched Bucky walk inside.

“Look great yourself, Sweetheart.” Bucky grumbled, avoiding you at all costs. Sam followed behind him.

“What happened?” Joaquin asked him.

“We won, that’s the bottom line.”

Bucky shook his head as he sat down. “Oh, no. Tell them about your master plan. Go on.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it yourself.” Sam said as he sat beside him.

“That missile could have blown you to pieces!”

“What?!” You and Joaquin shouted, for two completely different reasons.

“That’s so cool,” Joaquin whispered. You hit him as you heard him.

“Sam, what the fuck?”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that.”

“You nearly got blown up?!”

Sam shook his head, again. “No. Look, the point is, we’re all okay and the bad guys are gonna be dealt with. In the meantime, can someone please order, like, four pizzas. I’m starving.”

Joaquin nodded, pulling out his phone. “Lucky’s?”

Sam nodded as he stood, starting to remove his suit. “Yeah.”

You folded your arms and looked at the man who hated you most in the world. “And you? Are you okay?”

Bucky just nodded. “Oh, I’m just fine.”

“No, he’s not.” Sam pointed at him as he peeked out from the changing divider. “There’s a med kit under the desk.”

That was when you spotted the tear to his jacket, red blood mixing with blue leather.

“For god's sake.”

Bucky watched as you turned on your heel and went directly for the med kit. “I don’t need your help.”

You didn’t answer him. Just walked back over to him on the sofa and sat beside him.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Fuck you, you’re getting it. Now move.”

Bucky didn’t see much in the way of another choice. So, reluctantly, he turned so his back was towards you.

“You’re gonna need to take your jacket off.”

He looked down, peeling away at the zipper before pulling the jacket away from him.

You took a breath.

It was the first time in over a year, you’d be touching him. Even if it was to clean his cut.

Bucky felt his breath hitch in his chest as your fingers touched his back through the cut in his black t-shirt. The last time you’d touched him had been under a completely different circumstance.

“This might hurt,” your voice was softer than usual. Just loud enough for him to hear. Bucky hissed. “Sorry.”

“It’s…it’s okay.” Bucky’s voice, for the first time in over a year, was soft when he spoke to you. You watched his side profile for a moment before pressing a full cleaning pad against his cut.

His eyes closed for a moment, letting your touch soak into his skin.

Dabbing at the cut before taping it shut, you tidied the rest of the kit away. “That should do it.”

“Thanks,” Bucky shifted in his seat and for a moment, his soft gaze remained on you.

After a year of scowls, it felt too much. Within seconds you gave him a brief smile before standing and walking away.

“Pizza’s on the way.” Joaquin said as he walked back inside.

Sam appeared, fixing his shirt. “Great.”

For two hours, the scowl disappeared into a neutral zone. But somewhere between the end credits of the film and Sam mentioning the date you set him up on, the scowl reappeared.

And that soft moment between you and Bucky was like dust in the wind.

“You’re a goddamn asshole, did you know that?”

“You know what, so are you.” Bucky was sick and tired. “We wouldn’t even be in this position if it wasn’t for you-”

“For me?! Oh, puh-lease. If you’d just listened to me in the first place-”

“I had a plan!”

You paused and looked at Bucky. He was waiting for a response. “Oh, I’m sorry. You had a plan. Oh, well, that just makes everything so much better, doesn’t it?!”

“It was better than yours.”

“Really? And what part of your plan has an escape route from this hell hole?!”

“If you just give me a minute-”

You scoffed. “Give yourself a little more credit, Sergeant.”

Bucky glared at you. Before he could respond, Sam’s voice cracked over your comms. “If you two are done arguing like children, I’ve found you an escape plan.”

“Where? There’s no-”

“Take cover.”

Bucky watched as the shade from the small window grew bigger. Immediately reaching for you, he pulled a table behind you both as you crouched together on the ground.

As the dust settled, you both pushed the table and rubble from you, coughing as it swirled to get into your lungs. Bucky tried to help you up but you just swatted his hand away and stood up yourself.

“Don’t.” Was your only warning to him before you left him in the dust, quite literally.

Upon getting back, you avoided him at all costs and made a beeline for your room and bathroom. It took three rounds of shampoo to get all the dirt and grime out of your hair. But you let the hot water wash away the tension in your shoulders.

Which all came flooding back the minute you turned around in the quiet kitchen and found Bucky entering. He was freshly showered himself, fresh henley with the sleeves pulled to his elbow.

Any other time, you would have left.

But you were hungry and there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d be letting him rush you out of making something to eat.

Despite the silence, it was the loudest atmosphere between you both since you’d met. The harsher sounding slam of the kitchen draws and cupboards, the aggressive click of the kettle, the quick wash of plates and cutlery.

You were the first to lose patience. “Okay, what the fuck is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?”

“Yeah!”

“Asks the girl who can’t close a cutlery drawer in peace.”

“Don’t turn this back on me. I asked first.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t have a fucking problem.”

“Really? Because after the stunt you pulled today, I’d say you do.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “The stunt I pulled?”

You groaned. “Do you really have to keep repeating everything I say?”

“The stunt I pulled saved our lives!”

“It got us trapped!”

“We got out!”

You tilted your head. “Oh, ‘we got out’, he says. What if Sam hadn’t shown up? What then, huh? Because I don’t seem to remember you having a plan for that.”

“I would have worked one out!”

You scoffed. “And what was so wrong with my plan?”

“We would have gotten caught. You hadn’t looked at the footage properly, again.”

“What the fuck do you mean again?”

“The lobsters-”

You held your hands up. “Oh, do forgive me for not knowing much about sea animals.”

“It’s a crustacean,” Bucky corrected before catching himself. “That’s not important. Look, it’s happened before.”

You groaned. “Once? You’re going off a one time thing? Seriously? Why don’t you trust me?!”

“I made that mistake the first time.”

You stood back, your fire settling but burning brighter than ever. “That is not fair.”

“No. No, what is not fair is having your emotions toyed with!”

“Jesus,” you walked away. But turned back. “How many times do I have to repeat myself until you believe me? I didn’t know who you were, Bucky!”

“And you just expect me to believe you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “But I do expect you to trust me. No matter what happened before, we’re still on the same team.”

“Maybe you are, but I’m not.”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath. “I swear, I didn’t know. Bucky,” you sighed and threw your arm out. “I’d been off grid for over a fucking decade! It wasn’t like I was kept up-to-date on Shield and their filing system!”

“So you just happened to miss one of the biggest man-hunts Shield ever saw, when you were working for them?”

“Yes!” you shouted. “I’m aware it sounds stupid but when you’ve got my history, it was easier for me to not watch the news 24/7! Jesus-” You stepped away, again. “No, you know what, believe whatever the fuck you want. You’re not gonna change your mind anyway.”

The next time you and Bucky spoke to each other was eleven weeks later.

“I don’t like him.”

That was all Bucky had said to you in the silence of the kitchen.

“What?” You turned from the food you were mixing together in the tupperware bowl.

“Rick. I don’t like him.”

You looked away from Bucky with a roll of your eyes. “His name is Nick, and what makes you think I value your opinion?”

“You asked Sam.”

You nodded, sucking the splattered sauce off your thumb. “Because Sam is my friend.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“Wonderful.”

Putting the meal back into the fridge, you closed the doors and paused for a moment.

“What don’t you like about him?”

Bucky looked up as you asked him your question. He seemed surprised you’d even asked.

“Forget it.” You said quickly as you turned away. But he answered anyway.

“He’s not good for you.”

You turned and looked back at him. “How do you know what’s good for me?”

There was a knowing look behind Bucky’s eyes. One you weren’t willing to acknowledge.

“You have to press him to show you affection in public.” Bucky told you. “You’re always the first to initiate contact. He doesn’t ask you follow up questions, or real questions. He calls you when he feels lonely-”

“Excuse-”

“And you don’t smile.”

That one hit you harder than you’d been expecting.

“You smile. But it’s not genuine. It’s forced, all the time. Even when you don’t notice…” I do. Bucky added to himself, silently.

“And how do you know what my real smile looks like?”

Bucky looked down at his own food. “I did see it…a long time ago.”

“A long time ago,” you laughed a little. “And whose fault is that?”

Bucky had hurt you. He knew that much. But the image of you standing in that office that day, just as he’d been telling Sam about the woman he’d met two nights before, wouldn’t leave him.

The betrayal. The hurt. The ignorance.

With you, he felt like himself for the first time in a long time. And all of a sudden, you were standing like a completely different person, introducing yourself as an Agent of Shield. He’d had agents sent to follow and watch his every move before, but someone to go as far as to sleep with him?

That was a new low.

“It wasn’t easy for me, either, you know. To see you walk in that day.” You were so tired of the fighting and yelling and secret-keeping. You were yet to explain your side of the story further than you ‘never lied’.

You laughed a little. “You know, I thought you were some kind maths teacher before you told me you worked for the Army. It explained the arm, and I didn’t think much else of it. Never even heard of The Winter Soldier until the day Sam said it.”

You shook your head. “I really thought we could have had something special before I realised you hated me. But it wasn’t my fault, Bucky. I didn’t know you were Shield, let alone that I’d be working with you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” You counter, walking towards him a little. “You told me you were in the army. Which, yeah, I guess was kinda true. But why not just tell me who you were? Why keep secrets? Shit, I really saw myself falling for you after that night but when you saw me…you didn’t even give me a chance, Bucky. Do you know how much that hurt? Too fucking much. And now, out of fucking nowhere, you suddenly tell me that a guy I’m dating- the first guy I’ve dated since…and you tell me he’s no good for me.”

You knew your emotions were taking over, but you couldn’t help it. They’d been bottled up for so long, the extra tension in your bones seemed to have cracked each jar wide open.

“Why the fuck-”

Your emotional running-thoughts speech was cut short by Bucky’s lips suddenly being on yours.

“What was that for?” Was the first thing you asked as the kiss broke away.

“You were rambling. I couldn’t…” Bucky swallowed. “Think of…”

Your gaze was locked onto his. And in a whirlwind of emotions, you decided to kiss him. His hands tangled in your hair before he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Similar to one of your first kisses, this one was emotionally charged. Not only was there a wanting behind it, but also a need. A need to make up for lost time. A need for taste, touch and memories.

You made a small noise as he kissed you and you tried to pull him closer to you. Eventually, he sat you on the counter-top where you trapped him against you in case he tried to move away.

Kissing down the column of your neck, you sighed, “James.”

Sucking at your pulsepoint, ultimately leaving a reminder of him for later, your nails ran down the back of his neck. Admiring his handy work for a moment, his heated gaze locked back onto yours. You watched as his tongue swiped across his lower lip.

Finally kissing you again, you kissed back, wanting more.

Which he was more than happy to provide.

By the time you woke up the next morning, all the tension was gone from your bones. The pillows beneath your head were soft, and so was the bedding.

Except, where there should have been someone lay next to you, there was nothing but an empty space.

You were still in his room. After a rather heated make-out session in the kitchen, Bucky had asked you whose room to go to. You had said his, considering it was closer. That much, and a little more, you could remember.

Holding the covers against your body, you turned over to finally find him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, Bucky was sitting at a hunched ninety degree angle. And from the expression on his face, he looked…remorseful.

“Hey,” you said in the quiet of the room, already worried. Did he hate you again? After everything the night before…did it mean nothing?

Bucky looked at you for a second, the guilt on his face even more prominent despite the fact he tried to hide it with a smile. You hated the forced smile almost as much as the fake one.

“Is everything-”

“I’m so sorry.”

It felt like someone had dropped a boulder in your stomach. You should have prepared yourself for the worst before you spoke; found a way to mask the hurt and bury it deep down. Agree with him that it meant nothing and move on, even if your mind screamed the opposite.

“I’ve been such an asshole.”

You stopped. Where was he going? He was right. But where was he going with it?

“I should have let you explain. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions so quickly. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole to you.” Bucky rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I was hurt and rather than be an adult about it, I lashed out on you.” He looked directly at you. “I’m so sorry.”

There was something in your heart that grew. Gratefulness at the fact he wasn’t about to tell you he regretted the night before, gratefulness that he was apologising for being such an asshole, care for…him; the way he was looking at you, the way he was holding himself.

Not knowing what to say, you did the next best thing. Shuffling down the bed, which confused Bucky for a moment – you could have left or punched him. But you didn’t. Instead, you hugged him. It took him a moment, but he hugged you back before he melted into you when he realised you’d settled against him.

“We all forget ourselves sometimes. But thank you for apologising.” You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before resting your chin in the same spot to look at him.

His eyes were always so much more blue in the mornings.

“And I’m sorry, too.”

Bucky felt more guilt and confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“I could have forced you to sit down and listen to me. I could have asked about who I was working with beforehand and given you a heads-up. And I could have followed you out of the office directly after. Maybe then we wouldn’t have been at odds for the last year and a bit.”

Bucky ran his hand up and down your arm that rested on his chest and nodded a little, agreeing with your final statement. “Sixteen months, three weeks and four days.”

“You kept count?”

Bucky nodded a little before meeting your gaze. “You were the best thing to happen to me in years. I didn’t see anything else for me to do other than count the days since.”

You tilted your head. “That…is very sweet. But now you know why I thought you were a maths teacher when we first met.”

Bucky chuckled. “I guess so.”

A quiet atmosphere settled over you both for a moment. “I mean it when I say I’m sorry. And I don’t know what I can do to make up for it but I want to start.”

You smiled and kissed him softly. “Staying in bed with me is a start.”

Bucky smiled and lowered his head for a moment, kissing your wrist before pressing his lips to yours.

Long after you forgave him, Bucky was still finding ways to make up for not only being an ass but also lost time.

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accirax · 7 months ago

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okay, i wasn't originally going to reblog with a written section of my own (though i was obviously always going to with tags) just for the secrecy of it all, but there was something you brought up that tickled me, and i wanted to share. specifically, it's about number Ten.

at the end of your section about him, you said:

I wonder if "Ultimate Romantic" could be a valid talent, because that's the vibe he's giving me. Hey, I've seen weirder! If not, then I don't have many guesses of what he could be :p

on that front, i have good and bad news.

if you were Deep In The Accirax Lore (by which i mean you were following me in *checks notes* february 2020 and somehow remembered this post, which by all accounts would literally just be me), you might recall this post in which i talked about "obsessing over my own fanganronpa game." and, the first character depicted in that post...

was Aika Agatsuma, the Ultimate Romantic! she was part of the Ultimate Couple with Nobuyuki, the Ultimate Lover :)

(in terms of future av-multifangan lore, we'll call this game our 0th fangan. it was never written, and it never will be for reasons i could explain, but won't on this post because that's neither here or there. sorry, characters!)

so while the good news is that you were totally on the right track with determining that "weirder" talents are totally ones that we would come up with, the bad news is that i'll have to de-confirm the exact phrasing of "Ultimate Romantic" for #10. we haven't repeated ourselves on talents that the main series didn't use multiple times yet!

also, while i'm in this reblog...

Wizardry 8 is a video game that was released by SirTech in 2001. In it, you play as a party of adventurers that crash land during as escort mission and have to quickly train themselves in order to beat the bad guy, the Dark Savant, to a legendary location so that he doesn't achieve legendary cosmic power-- basically, standard JRPG stuff.

Venus and i grew up watching our mom play it, and, when she was old enough, Venus got it for herself to play. after beating the game normally multiple times, she also started assigning herself challenge runs, like ones where she only has one party member or no one can use any magic. i just asked Venus how many hours she has put into the game on Steam, and she said, "idk like 1000 or something." our family often jokes that Venus is the foremost expert on Wizardry 8 in the entire world, because who else is religiously playing a 2001 release that looks like this

in the year of our lord 2024?

so, tl;dr, Wizardry 8 has absolutely nothing to do with #8 and only has to do with Venus shouting out one of her favorite niche video games. as a bonus fun fact, the Wizardry video game series were part of what inspired Ryoko Kui to make Dungeon Meshi! play them if you wish; i'm sure it would make Venus very happy.

Danganronpa One Shot: Pre-Release Analysis

Let's gooo!

In case you're not aware, for the last sixteen days, there's been a countdown of sorts going on in venus-is-thinking's account, and I've been excitedly following it along! The big reveal happened today: a fangan called Danganronpa: One Shot, hosted in the account av-multifangan!

For now, we have little more than a title, an announcement post, an FAQ and an About Page. Which I hope don't have secrets in source code or anything because I don't know how to chekc that :p

But is that going to stop me from talking about it? Hell no! I'm going to follow this from the start, and that includes early theories based on literally two pictures and a countdown. Mainly character talents and the such. Let's get into it!

What we Have

As stated earlier, literally two images and a countdown.

So... yeah not a lot. However, I feel like the poster with the wheel could give us an idea of tone, at least. Seems on the more lighthearted side from first impression, even if a killing game will inevitably have some pretty sad moments to go along with it. At least that's the impression I get, could be wrong! There's a big theme of games of chance with all the imagery of wheels, money, poker chips... as well as weapons like guns, knives and nooses, as expected of a killing game. Particularly, we see American-looking $100 bills, which combined with the names of the characters, could suggest an American setting. But hey, it's a prediction post; if I get things wrong, I get things wrong!

The comment on the names is a nice segue for the reveal that the tags of the announcement post include the names of the characters!

Now, venus specifically claims the names are secret, but I actually have a guess of what each name refers to. I could be completely off, but I think the names might be listed in Countdown Order. So Sixteen is Vanessa Bravo, Fifteen is Jeff Breeze, etc. It fits decently well, makes some sense, and I have exactly two evidence points for it, which could very well be coincidences. So again, I might be completely wrong on this :v

There's also a surprising amount of last names which... are just words? "Love," "Breeze," "Bravo," "Hall," "Long," "Walker," "Young." Hell, "Rey" and "Torres" are words in Spanish ("king" and "towers" respectively). I assume it means nothing, but I do find it amusing.

But there's one name that's interesting to me above all others. "Mark Dros." Because it just so happens that "dros" is the acronym of Danganronpa: One Shot. Now, this could just be a coincidence, or even a very meta hint of a fake name/mastermind/something like that, but if it's not a coincidence, what I find likeliest is that Mark's last name is not revealed at the start of the series. Be it because Mark doesn't remember it, or because Mark's hiding it, or something else; if Mark's name is not initially revealed, then venus and accirax would be forced to tag Mark alongside the acronym of the fangan to differentiate this Mark from the countless other Marks out there.

Am I cooking? Am I burning down the kitchen? Who knows.

Anyways, let's actually get to so-called "character analysis." I'll refer to them by their number in the countdown (I'm not confident in the name guesses as you can see :p), which can be tied to the cards by color, and from the cards to the wheel via face recognition. It's going to be extremely embarrassing if I somehow get the wrong wheel sprite from the card drawing, so let's hope that doesn't happen!

I'll mostly go in Countdown Order for organization, though... it'd feel wrong not to start at the beginning, no?

Seven - Ace of Hearts [The Protagonist]

Pronouns: Any

Color: Hot Pink*

Countdown Symbol: Penny

Card Frame Symbol: Pennies

Wheel Color: N/A

More-or-less Confirmed Name: Ellis Ortiz

*(Note: These colors are taken from the ALT text of the countdown pictures. None of them use "plum" so they're acceptable in my eyes /ref :))

Those deep in the DROS lore (so, me and maybe two or three other people so far :p) know that Seven's countdown post was the only one accirax reblogged apart from 16 and 1, saying she did it for "no reason in particular." This is one of the things that made me think Seven could be the protagonist, which I was seemingly right about, but I could have never expected her to actually be played by accirax! This sort of roleplay format is really interesting, and I'm very curious to see how it plays out!

Well, I should point out that Seven isn't technically confirmed as the protagonist, but he may as well be. That means they're the only one with a confirmed name, as both the About post and the FAQ state accirax played Ellis. Ortiz comes from the tag. This is evidence point Nº1 for the names being in Countdown Order, as Ellis is listed seventh to last.

Apart from that, my previous guess of Seven being the Ultimate Lucky Student (based on the coins and the number seven being considered lucky) seems to hold up pretty well. The theme of chance and luck has only been made more prevalent with the announcement post, though it's to the point I almost wonder if Seven might be the Ultimate Game Show Contestant or something to that effect instead. However, since the About page claims some knowledge from THH is required, it's not unreasonable to assume this is a Hope's Peak class and thus needs a Lucky Student.

Plus, Ellis being Lucky would continue the age old tradition of Lucky Student protagonists: your Makoto Naegis (THH), your Yuki Maedas (DR Another), your Teruko Tawakis (DR Despair Time), etc. What this luck looks like is impossible to know so far, but since Seven seems like a relatively confident person at first glance, my best assumption is that he's aware of his good luck and uses it for their benefit. That's probably the guess I'm least confident about btw.

Seven's also connected to the Ace of Hearts, and looking at their glasses, yeah that makes sense :v The card is connected to new beginnings and love, which seems pretty in line for a protag.

Anyways, as a final note, I really love Seven's design and Vibe. Really fun looking protag, and since she's played by accirax, I would be foolish to expect anything but peak from them :D

Then again, the rest of the characters were written by venus, so I would be foolish to anything but peak from them either ;)

Alright, now we can start with-

Mascot

Pronouns: He/him

Color: N/A

Countdown Symbol: N/A

Card Frame Symbol: N/A

Wheel Color: Pink

Suspected Name: N/A (but probs Mono-something :p)

Right, this guy. Not included in the countdown, this little cameo in the announcement post is the only reference we have of this thing's existence. That means I genuinely have no guesses on what's going on with him.

I can't even know what I'm looking at, necessarily. It looks like a gem, maybe? I'm very curious to see this guy's full design, because I feel there's a lot being lost in translation to the wheel sprite :v

Alright, now we can start with Countdown Order. Jeez.

Sixteen - Queen of Clubs

Pronouns: She/her

Color: Lime Green

Countdown Symbol: Headphones

Card Frame Symbol: Headphones

Wheel Color: Pink

Suspected Name: Vanessa Bravo

Although headphones by themselves are a bit too vague for me to have made a guess from them alone back during countdown ages, the addition of a microphone in her card makes it seem that Sixteen is the Ultimate Singer! Or something to that effect, obviously exact wording is impossible for me to guess. In any case, I’m sure watching her perform would get anyone to say “bravo!”

… I’m very unfunny.

On top of that, while card symbolism is always pretty hard to pin down due to the large variety of possible interpretations, the queen of clubs' association with confidence and self-love seem in line with Sixteen's seemingly animated stage presence... I say, having exactly one picture of her. As always in these fangans, the persona of any performer will always come into question, so whether or not she's really as confident as she seems is yet to be seen. First impressions can be wrong, after all!

Anyways, I really like her design, her little hair accessory is everything :D

Fifteen - Jack of Hearts

Pronouns: He/they

Color: Teal

Countdown Symbol: Umbrella

Card Frame Symbol: Umbrellas

Wheel Color: Red

Suspected Name: Jeff Breeze

A cool looking guy to be sure, I... have no clue what Fifteen's talent may be. The towel they're holding makes me think the umbrellas are actually parasols, so maybe something like Ultimate Resort/Hotel Manager, Ultimate Tour Guide, Ultimate Vacationer, something to that effect?

Regardless, Fifteen looks like a relatively chill guy, which certainly fits the Jack of Hearts' connections to youthful love, passion, honesty and adventure. Seems like the sort of guy you'd really love to "shoot the breeze" with, huh?

... I gotta stop. These names are all gonna be wrong and this is gonna go from unfunny to straight up silly-

Fourteen - Queen of Spades

Pronouns: She/her

Color: Red

Countdown Symbol: Spade

Card Frame Symbol: Clubs, hearts, diamonds, spades

Wheel Color: Red

Suspected Name: Antonia Cisneros

Oh... oh she looks cool... and vaguely evil... Chat I fear I might have found a future favorite. Her smug little smile and and appealing design have enraptured me lol.

I particularly love the fact all four suits of the French deck are represented in her design; the club and spade accessories in her hair and belt (maybe?) respectively, the heart shaped dress, and the (I think) diamond earrings, she slays so much I worry she might "slay" a bit too literally if you catch my drift.

That aside, it seems my original guess of Ultimate Gambler or Poker Player or something to that effect remains solid, what with all the card imagery in her accessories and the cards she's holding. Especially notable given the series itself has quite a large theming around games of chance. Hell, all the characters are represented by cards in the French deck in the Header picture.

That could certainly imply a larger degree of importance for Fourteen than other characters. I expect her to be a common mastermind guess, but I personally think it'd be cool if she was the main killing game "antagonist," a la Byakuya. Of course, she doesn't have to be, but she's currently my best guess of who the "antag" might be, if there even is one at all.

This is especially so since the Queen of Spades can be associated with intelligence and logical judgement, which makes it seem like we might have a bit of a girlboss in our hands. As much as I'm excited to see all the characters, Fourteen is one that particularly intrigues me. Can't wait to meet her!

Thirteen - Queen of Hearts

Pronouns: She/her

Color: Gold

Countdown Symbol: Teacup

Card Frame Symbol: Laurel leaves, crown?, undetermined

Wheel Color: Pink

Suspected Name: Paris Hall

Speaking of girlbosses, Thirteen seems to be actively telling me to "spill the tea, sis" in her card, which is awesome. She looks like she'll be fun.

I originally didn't have much of a guess of what talent she might have, though Ultimate Tea Maker or something to that effect might still be the best guess. However, the combination of her color being gold, the crown-looking thing at the top right of her card, and the Laurus Nobilis leaves at the top make me consider she might be royalty? Ultimate Queen/Princess? Not impossible for sure. Though it would be pretty funny to call a monarch after the capital city of one of the most notoriously anti-monarchy countries in history, assuming I got the name right of course.

(...Should I mention that Cisneros, which could be Fourteen's last name, is the name of a historically important viceroy? Does this imply a thematic connection to Thirteen? I almost wanna look a bit deeper into it, but that's speculation on top of theories on top of speculation on top of theories, so I'll hold off for now)

In any case, I'm sure she'll be quite fun. The Queen of Hearts is associated with compassion and emotional intelligence, so I'm sure she'll be a good person to have around during the killing game! ... Provided we ignore the associations 13 has with bad luck :v

Twelve - King of Spades

Pronouns: He/any

Color: Dark Red

Countdown Symbol: X

Card Frame Symbol: X

Wheel Color: Red

Suspected Name: Aidan Ho

I didn't know what the X could represent on Countdown Day Twelve, and that hasn't changed just because we've added more Xs to the situation :v

Indeed, Twelve is one of the people for whom I have no guess of a talent. He's so weird that I don't even know what's happening with his hoodie??? Is Twelve wearing a half-blue, half-red thing??? What is this.

To be fair, though, the duality might be the point. The 12 in the countdown image was also split down the middle, although what this duality theming could imply is beyond me for now.

Very emo looking, though, I'm sure it'll be fun to see what his Deal is. The King of Spades holds similar meanings to the Queen of Spades, so I could see Twelve and Fourteen being a pair of sorts. Also potentially not, you know how this works.

Very mysterious dude... I'm excited to see where Twelve goes!

Eleven - Jack of Spades

Pronouns: They/them

Color: Orange

Countdown Symbol: Theater Masks

Card Frame Symbol: Theater Masks

Wheel Color: Orange

Suspected Name: Taylor Long

Really love the design of this Ultimate Actor (or something else theater-related)! They look pretty befuddled by that book, I wonder what they're reading?

I found conflicting reports on what the Jack of Spades symbolizes, but it's something along the lines of cleverness and hard work. Possibly a smart individual, then, and the fact they seem to be studying something in a killing game seems to corroborate the "hard working" thing. I'm interested in seeing them in action! It won't be "long" until we get to see how well that applies-

I gotta... I gotta stop.

Ten - King of Hearts

Pronouns: He/him (I really hope I'm not wrongly assigning the wheel things lol :v)

Color: Pink

Countdown Symbol: Rose

Card Frame Symbol: Roses

Wheel Color: Blue

Suspected Name: Davis Love

Ah, the classic trope of the "sopping wet cat guy," I suspect this one will be a big hit in the Tumblr crowd! Definitely connected to romantic love in some capacity, not just because I'm suspecting his last name is "Love," but more so because of the "they love me-they love me not" game he's playing in the Header image and the roses he's always accompanied by. Not to mention the King of Heart's connections to love and empathy and deep emotions.

Can't exactly tell what the pin he's wearing is, but it might be a rose too. Very Crystal Gem coded, this guy.

I wonder if "Ultimate Romantic" could be a valid talent, because that's the vibe he's giving me. Hey, I've seen weirder! If not, then I don't have many guesses of what he could be :p

Nine - Ace of Spades

Pronouns: They/them

Color: Purple

Countdown Symbol: Question mark

Card Frame Symbol: Question marks

Wheel Color: Orange

Suspected Name: Mark [Dros]

Ah, the classic Ultimate ???, huh? Well, maybe not, but that's my best guess for Nine! The mirror they're holding up could be a representation of them trying to remember their own identity, their talent... and possibly, their last name.

Indeed, the fact that "Mark Dros" happens to fall on Nine is my second evidence point for the name order I'm using. It's a theory built on top of a theory built on top of a guess, but it's what I have for now :v

In any case, I'm sure I'll love them. I'm always a sucker for mystery characters, be it in the form of weirdos like Okazaki Hanano (Tetro DR Pink), cryptids like Mai Akasaki (DR Despair Time), or as seems to be the case here, amnesiacs like Izanami Hoshimiya (DR (He)artless Deceit). And the mystery with this guy is exacerbated by the fact that the Ace of Spades has the most conflicting interpretations we've seen so far. It can represent power, authority, success, and good luck... or bad luck, defeat, and death. Quite literally impossible to tell what's going on, which is only fitting. Very intrigued by this one...

Eight - Queen of Diamonds

Pronouns: She/they

Color: Bright Blue

Countdown Symbol: Scalpel + Wizardry 8 reference

Card Frame Symbol: Scalpel

Wheel Color: Red

Suspected Name: Vivi Mitchell

Ah, my archnemesis.

The backstory here is that Eight's countdown image released after I had spent the entire day, from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon, in uni, and my brain was a bit fried from several hours of class and three hours of lab work. That's my excuse for fucking up not once, but twice with that image. Not only did I first think their symbol was a paintbrush (despite having checked ALT text for every day prior), I then proceeded to confuse the word "scalpel" for "chisel" and therefore assumed Eight would be a sculptor. You're allowed to laugh at me.

Anyways, third time's the charm, Eight is likely the Ultimate Surgeon/Doctor or something to that effect, and will most likely be our designated autopsy performer for at least the first few trials. They seem to be pretty upbeat from the one (1) image we have of them, so I'm sure they'll be fun to have around. The Queen of Diamonds seems to mostly represent wealth and power, which means... I don't know. Eight makes good money? :v

Also, still no idea what Wizardry 8 is, if anyone has any guesses on why that reference exists, please tell me pretty please?

Six - Ace of Diamonds

Pronouns: Any

Color: Brown

Countdown Symbol: Illuminati Symbol

Card Frame Symbol: Illuminati Symbols, but radiant

Wheel Color: Blue

Suspected Name: Kennedy Rey

It looks like Scott Smajor got a little too obsessed with Bill Cipher and turned into a Drew Flamboni kinnie. I wonder how many references it takes for no one but me to understand a sentence :v

In case the illuminati symbol wasn't enough, the red string she's holding, associated with insane cork boards filled with random connections, fully cements Six in my mind as the Ultimate Conspiracy Theorist, or something to that effect. Not sure what the rectangle in their shirt is meant to be, but I guess that'll have to wait for the actual release.

The Ace of Diamonds generally represents wealth and success, which makes me wonder how it could connect to Six. I guess... he might just be rich. Final note, while I'm still uncertain if I got the names right or not, if I am right, venus would be kinda crazy for calling the conspiracy theorist Kennedy, knowing the conspiracy theories surrounding JFK xD It would be iconic of her I think.

Five - Jack of Clubs

Pronouns: He/him

Color: Light Blue

Countdown Symbol: Page

Card Frame Symbol: None

Wheel Color: Orange

Suspected Name: Robert Smith

Now this one's interesting. While Five's countdown symbol of a page with a bent top right corner is etched into his design, being the pin he wears, he's the only character not to have any symbols on the frame of his card. I already had no good guesses for his talent before, just kinda throwing in Ultimate Writer or Ultimate Coder or equivalents as provisional guesses, but now they seem even less likely. Because the lack of symbols on the frame of his card could actually mean the page represents something different.

I think it's possible Five is meant to be a "blank slate," which could mean he has no talent at all. Of course, there's also the possibility that his average-ness is actually his talent, something like Ultimate Blank Slate or Ultimate Regular Person or Ultimate Guy. I'm probably way off, but who knows!

The Jack of Clubs has a few different meanings, but they're generally positive. Creativity, intelligence and sincerity seem to be the main themes. So I'm sure Five will be Perfectly Normal and have Nothing Wrong with him :)

Really curious to see this one!

Four - Jack of Diamonds

Pronouns: They/them

Color: Dark Green

Countdown Symbol: Gear

Card Frame Symbol: Gears

Wheel Color: Blue

Suspected Name: Grace Thomas

Another design I love at first sight, I really dig Four's vibe. They seem pretty straightforward so far; an Ultimate Mechanic or something to that effect (I am overusing that phrase so much), they give me the impression that they'll be a voice of reason within the killing game. The Jack of Diamonds seems to reference a "messenger" who helps people achieve financial goals, which extrapolated to the killing game, could imply Four will be some kind of important support. Probably will be helpful in trials, they seem smart. Entirely possible I might be off, but that kinda fits the vibe I'm getting from them.

Let's just hope the associations the number four has with death and misfortune aren't relevant...

Three - Ace of Clubs

Pronouns: She/they

Color: Light Gray

Countdown Symbol: Fountain Pen

Card Frame Symbol: Fountain Pen

Wheel Color: Blue

Suspected Name: Cass Torres

Another one that looks like they know what they're doing, Three seems to be some kind of Ultimate Writer or something to that- you know what the phrase is. The Ace of Clubs is connected to creativity, prosperity and good fortune, which certainly fits an Ultimate Writer. Bit ironic I don't have much else to write about Three, but what we have of her seems pretty straightforward so far. We'll see how much of that is wrong later!

Two - King of Clubs

Pronouns: He/him

Color: Orange**

Countdown Symbol: Omega (uppercase), 2 stylized as Lambda (uppercase)

Card Frame Symbol: Omega, Lambda, Phi, Psi, Theta, Sigma; all uppercase

Wheel Color: Pink

Suspected Name: Noah Walker

**(Yes, the ALT text for Two and Eleven describe their colors the exact same way. That's kinda funny)

If I had no idea what the hell the Greek letters were about in the countdown image, I have even less of an idea of what they mean here. Is Two the Ultimate Hellenic Scholar? As in, a scholar focused on studying Greece? Certainly kinda gives frat bro vibes. Surely, if he was the Ultimate Linguist or something, there'd be more than Greek letters, right? Why is he so confusing?

Anyways, he seems like a pretty positive person, but who knows. The King of Clubs represents leadership, intelligence and authority. I mean... sure? Maybe that applies to him? Yeah I have no idea. Two's a bit of an enigma for me :v We'll have to wait and see!

One - King of Diamonds

Pronouns: Ve/ver

Color: Dark Blue

Countdown Symbol: Heart in Hands

Card Frame Symbol: Heart in Hands, hearts, people holding hands, peace symbol

Wheel Color: Orange

Suspected Name: Harper Young

While I originally thought One might join ver apparent distant cousin Whit Young (DR Despair Time) as an Ultimate Matchmaker, the inclusion of the peace symbol in the card frame and One giving out sweets (kinda funny, given ver countdown image came out in Halloween) makes me think it's something more along the lines of... Ultimate Pacifist? Ultimate Activist? Ultimate Make-Other-People-Feel-Good-Person? Some vague title that refers to helping others with love and peace in ver heart, be it through volunteer work, activism, whatever. I'm thinking something along the lines of Tsuno Manami's Ultimate Superhero (Tetro DR Pink), if you catch my drift.

In any case, what I'm certain of is that One seems to be a very sweet and kind person! Even if the King of Diamonds, representing mostly material wealth and authority, seems like a weird fit for ver (btw if I use these pronouns wrong please tell me. I looked them up but I'm still not entirely confident I'm using them right :v). However, the King of Diamonds can also represent ethical success and bring positive energy to a reading (?), so it might not be completely off from what the rest of the information we have of One.

Finally, there's one variable I've been listing for these characters which I haven't really addressed yet, and that's the wheel color. Here are the full groups for each color:

N/A: Seven

Pink: Mascot, Sixteen, Thirteen, Two

Red: Fifteen, Fourteen, Twelve, Eight

Orange: Eleven, Nine, Five, One

Blue: Ten, Six, Four, Three

What could this mean? Well, uh... anything. Friend groups, shared themes, simple coincidence... I have no way of knowing what the connections could be, or if they're even relevant at all. I'm just noting them down for future reference :)

Anyways, that's all folks! Geez, how the hell did I write so much about a fangan that has practically no content so far? No wonder my other posts reach such ridiculous word lengths.

Hope you enjoyed! If you made it this far, you deserve a little treat! You can ask One, heard ve's passing them out. See you later!

#anyways *clears throat* THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS!!! i was grinning the entire time :D #and venus and i exchanged many excited texts looking over your predictions #honestly even though you didn't get things 100% correct (which i'm sure you expected) it was really solid and you were often very close #but idk why i would expect anything other than peak theories from you ;D #uhhhh final notes there is no hidden source code bc idk how to implement that and from what i saw you were using ve/ver correctly #and you assigned everyone's pronouns based on the wheel correctly #oh wait there was actually that “plum” comment as well nvm cancel all the compliments fuck you (/j)#danganronpa: one shot #dros #vanessa bravo #jeff breeze #antonia cisneros #paris hall #aidan ho #taylor long #davis love #mark dros #vivi mitchell #ellis ortiz #kennedy rey #robert smith #grace thomas #cass torres #noah walker #harper young #dros theories #fanganronpa #av-multifangan

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callsign-fox · 21 days ago

Text

Lady Radiance - Bob/Sentry

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

No warnings, jealous/protective Bob xo

Thanks for all the love! <3

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and Sam strode in first, followed by Joaquin Torres, and a surprise guest—none other than Thor himself, all golden armor, broad shoulders, and windswept hair, commanding the room with his sheer size and godly presence.

Y/N looked up from where she was lounging on the couch between Bob and Yelena, a half-finished drink in hand. Her eyes crinkled as she spotted Sam. “Brought guests?”

Sam grinned as he crossed the room. “Figured it was time to do some introductions.” He motioned casually behind him. “You’ve met Joaquin, and this—well, this is our resident thunder god.”

Thor stepped forward with all the confidence of someone who had stopped alien invasions and bench-pressed planets. His eyes landed on Y/N like a spotlight. “And who might you be, Lady Radiance?” he asked, voice deep and silky with a grin that could shatter worlds.

Bob sat up a little straighter on the couch, hand tightening on the armrest.

Y/N chuckled, rising smoothly to her feet. “Y/N. No title necessary.”

Thor arched an eyebrow as if offended by the idea. “A shame. One such as you should be worshipped, not left untitled.” He took her hand in his large one and brushed a slow, dramatic kiss across her knuckles.

Bob was on his feet so fast the couch cushions shifted.

Yelena muttered without looking up from her phone, “Here we go.”

Sam tilted his head toward Bob and let out a low, “Oh boy.”

Before Y/N could gently pull her hand back, Bob stepped in between her and Thor—not aggressive, but the message was crystal clear. His shoulders were squared, his body language radiating that rare, focused intensity that only came out when it really mattered.

“Easy there, big guy,” Bob said, his voice calm but tight.

Thor blinked at him in amusement. He was a full head taller, but that didn’t seem to shake Bob in the slightest. “And you are…?”

“Bob,” he said flatly. “And Lady Radiance is already spoken for.”

Y/N crossed her arms and tilted her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she watched the exchange.

Thor glanced between the two of them. Y/N’s small frame was barely visible behind Bob, who now stood like an immovable wall between her and a literal god. “Is that so?” Thor said, a teasing lilt in his tone.

Y/N’s hand landed on Bob’s shoulder. “Easy, hotshot,” she said softly, the affection in her voice immediate and grounding.

Bob didn’t budge, not right away. He didn’t even look at her. His eyes were locked on Thor’s, protective instinct written all over his expression—like he’d throw himself into the sun before letting anyone so much as flirt with her.

Y/N stepped out from behind him, pressing her palm gently against his chest and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt to bring him back to her.

“Bob,” she whispered, catching his eyes. “It’s okay.”

From the couch, Yelena smirked. “You’re not the only god on the team anymore, Thor.” She winked without looking up. “I think you two should fight so we can find out who the strongest Avenger is.”

Y/N shot her a look. “Yelena—”

But she only shrugged. “What? I’d put money on Bob. Quiet ones always snap.”

Y/N turned her eyes back to the two men. “As much as I’d love to see that matchup,” she said, smirking again, “we just got this place looking nice again. If you two get blood on the new floors, Valentina will actually kill you.”

Bob finally let out a breath through his nose, just enough of the tension draining from his frame that his shoulders lowered a fraction. Thor let out a loud, booming laugh.

“She’s fierce,” Thor said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I see why you guard her like a dragon’s hoard.”

Y/N grinned and tilted her head up at Bob. “He doesn’t have to guard me. He just wants to.”

Bob wrapped his arm around her waist then, pulling her in without needing to say a word. He kissed her temple with a quiet intensity that made her heart flutter.

“I do,” he murmured against her skin.

Thor clapped Bob on the shoulder, a hearty thud that nearly knocked him off balance. “Then you’ve chosen well, Bob of Earth.”

Yelena shook her head. “Damn, I really wanted to see them fight.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly and turned into Bob’s side, leaning close until her lips were near his ear. “You were really about to fight the God of Thunder for me?” she whispered, voice warm and teasing.

Her arms slipped around his neck as she rose up on her toes, pressing her forehead gently to his.

Bob gave a quiet huff of laughter, his hands settling firmly around her waist like she was something priceless he wasn’t letting go of. “I’m not going to lie,” he murmured, his voice low and honest, “I was a little nervous. He’s got lightning. I’ve got… new powers I can barely control, and anxiety.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nose brushing his. “You have way more than that. You’ve got heart. Loyalty. Ridiculously good abs.”

He flushed, smiling sheepishly before leaning in as if drawn by gravity. “And you,” he said simply.

She kissed him then, soft and lingering, like the rest of the room had melted away. One of his hands slid up, cupping her cheek with that same gentle admiration he always gave her—like she was something rare, and he still couldn’t quite believe she was real.

“Alright, alright!” Yelena called from the couch, lobbing a pillow at them with pinpoint accuracy. “Can you not make out in the common area? Some of us are emotionally repressed and trying to watch The Great British Bake Off.”

Y/N pulled away with a laugh, forehead still resting against Bob’s. He chuckled too, their eyes meeting like the world hadn’t just paused for a moment.

And just like that, they both started laughing—soft, warm, shared—and didn’t stop.

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mandoalorian · 1 month ago

Text

a body to break against [bucky barnes x f!reader]

pairing: new avenger!bucky x f!reader

synopsis: a night of chinese food, shots, and unexpected camaraderie with the new avengers forces you to confront your place on the team, and it's especially difficult with bucky’s stare lingering on you.

word count: 6200

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, enemies to lovers, thunderbolts* spoilers, alcohol consumption, mention of family member death, details of physical and emotional abuse, grumpy!bucky, avengers tower fic

masterlist

previous chapter | current | next chapter

You didn’t know what woke you. Maybe it was the absence of weight in the air. Or maybe it was the silence—thick and undisturbed, like something had finally shifted. For a moment, you lay still beneath the blanket, eyes fixed on the ceiling, waiting for the storm to return.

But it didn’t.

You stepped out of the room barefoot, expecting to find Bucky Barnes still haunting the apartment like some cold draft. Instead, the kitchen was empty. The chair he’d claimed last night was vacant, the beer bottle gone. His presence, which had been so sharp and intrusive, had vanished.

And you were relieved.

Until a voice startled you from the table. “Morning,” it said — warm, casual. You turned your head and saw him.

He was younger than you expected. Messy curls, soft features, and a grin that looked like it came easy. Joaquin Torres.

He waved a spatula at you. “Sam said you might be up soon. I made eggs. Hope you’re not vegan.”

You hesitated in the doorway, unsure how to exist in a space that felt suddenly… normal. And then, because your stomach growled before you could think of an excuse, you nodded and stepped in.

Joaquin talked about the grocery store being out of oat milk again, about some neighbour who kept confusing him with his own cousin, and about music. He didn't ask who you were or why you were here. That made it easier.

You ate quietly, letting the rhythm of his voice fill the silence.

When Sam walked in, the room changed. Not with tension—not like it had with Bucky—but with a kind of quiet awareness. He froze in the doorway when he saw you sitting at the table, a plate of half-eaten eggs in front of you, a rare flicker of something soft brushing across his face before he caught it and cleared his throat.

“Morning,” he said, nodding.

You nodded back, unsure if you were more startled by how natural this felt… or by the way Sam looked at you. Like he was trying not to look too long.

He joined you at the table, grabbed a coffee, and the three of you sat like a real group of roommates — almost.

But even as you smiled faintly at something Joaquin said, you felt it: Sam was watching you more closely than before. Like he wanted to say something, he hadn’t quite found the right words for.

The eggs were almost gone. Joaquin had started poking fun at your lack of hot sauce tolerance, making exaggerated wheezing noises every time you reached for your water. You rolled your eyes, but the amusement was genuine — fleeting, but real.

Sam watched the exchange with a half-smile, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair like he was cataloguing something in his mind.

“Hey, Joaquin?” he said suddenly, voice steady but layered.

Joaquin glanced over, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, Cap?”

“Can we get a minute?”

Joaquin blinked. Then his eyes flicked between the two of you, his expression comically exaggerated. “Ooooh. Private talk. Say no more.”

You raised a brow. “It’s not—”

He was already standing. “Hey, I support emotionally mature conversations. You want me to pretend I didn’t hear anything, I will. You want me to eavesdrop through the wall, also doable.”

“Joaquin,” Sam said, a warning threaded through the name.

“Going, going,” Joaquin grinned, walking backwards toward the hall. “If either of you cry, I want a full recap.”

You huffed a breath through your nose. Sam waited until the bedroom door clicked shut, and the apartment fell quiet again. Then he turned back to you.

He leaned his elbows on the table, hands laced together.

“I opened my home to you,” he said quietly. “I gave you a safe place. I know it’s only your second day here, but you know I’m on your side. I need two favours from you. I want you to know, they aren’t conditional. You don’t have to answer. You’ll still have a home here, for as long as you need, until you get back on your feet. But I also need you to consider doing the right thing.”

You looked at your plate, then slowly lifted your gaze to meet his.

“I need the truth,” he said. “About your powers.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sat with it. The truth. The weight of it. The danger in it. Sam was right. You knew what the right thing was. You knew he deserved to hear it.

You swallowed. “I’ve had them… for as long as I can remember.”

Sam didn’t blink.

“Most of the time, it’s just…” You hesitated, unsure how to put it into words that wouldn’t make you sound unhinged—crazy, even. “I can see people’s emotions. Auras. I can feel things — what’s coming, what’s hidden. It’s instinct, but stronger. Like… something crawling under my skin.”

“And the rest of the time?”

You met his eyes.

“Sometimes I spiral,” you said. “Sometimes it’s not just reading emotions. Sometimes I feel this… surge. A force. I can predict people. Their moves. Their lies. I can see through them. And if it gets loud. Too loud…I…”

Sam leaned back a little. Not away — just adjusting. Digesting.

“Have you ever hurt anyone with it?”

You didn’t answer.

That silence was enough.

Sam looked down, nodding once. Then he spoke, voice calm but weighted. “There’s a war in space.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“The New Avengers know. Joaquin knows. The government knows. It’s not public, and it’s not simple, but it’s coming. And if it’s already happening above the atmosphere, it could be a matter of days—weeks, even, before it comes to Earth. We don’t have enough people ready for what’s next. And I need all the help I can get.”

You stared at him. “So this is a recruitment speech?”

“This is me telling you the truth. Which leads to my second favour…” He leaned forward again, tone shifting into something firmer, something that settled into your bones. “I don’t want to sign Bucky’s peace treaty. I don’t trust it. But we both know I’m going to do it. For the greater good. Because we don’t have time for egos,” He paused. “And I’m asking you to do the same. Join us.”

You folded your arms across your chest, more for comfort than defiance.

“You want me to be an Avenger?” You bit your lip, looking down at the table. The proposition made your stomach twist with unspoken anxiety.

“Have you ever wanted to be more?” Sam asked softly. “Because now’s your chance. You’ve already survived so much. But if you step up, you won’t be alone anymore. You’ll have purpose.”

You looked at him. The man who’d picked you up off the street and offered you warmth and protection. A home.

“I’m not a hero,” you said quietly.

Being an Avenger was your brother's dream, not yours.

Sam smiled, just a little. “Neither was I. Until Steve gave me the chance to be. Now, I’m giving you that chance.”

You didn’t answer right away. But something shifted in your chest. The tiniest spark of belief.

And when Sam stood and grabbed the treaty folder from the counter, you didn’t stop him.

You watched him sign it.

And for the first time in a long time, you wondered what it would feel like to stop running — and start becoming.

────✪────

The ride to Avengers Tower was quiet—not tense, but contemplative. Sam sat in the front, flipping through the treaty folder. You didn’t get a chance to read it for yourself, but you had gathered that they were filled with terms authored by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine herself, chairman of O.X.E. and figurehead of the New Avengers. You remembered yesterday, Sam’s passing comment about her being Bucky’s girlfriend.

That had to have been a joke.

Joaquin, in the backseat beside you, kept trying to lighten the mood with whispered jokes and dramatic gasps every time the tower came into view.

“Ever been in the Tower before?” he asked, nudging you.

You shook your head. “No, this is all very new to me.”

“Oh,” he said, eyes wide. “Brace yourself. It's like a reality show in there. But with superpowers and less shame. Maybe.”

“Torres, you haven’t even been to the tower before,” Sam snickered, shaking his head. Joaquin’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink, and you quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Forgive me for trying to impress the lady,” Joaquin grumbled. “Okay, I’ve never been, but I’ve heard a lot about it.”

“I imagine it’s very different now, compared to what it was like when I lived there with Tony, Steve and the rest of them.”

“I would have loved to be part of that.” Joaquin hummed, his eyes filled with dream and longing.

“Yeah, it wasn’t so bad.” Sam reflected with a small smile upon his lips.

The car pulled up to the glass entrance, sleek and towering, the A emblazoned above the doors like a warning more than a welcome. Security scanned your faces — or rather, Sam’s — and let you in.

Inside, it was exactly as Joaquin promised.

Before you could say a word, someone shouted.

“Yelena, stop putting gum in John’s helmet!”

“I’m conducting an experiment!”

“Your experiment almost took out my peripheral vision!”

“Maybe use your brain instead of your biceps for once, huh?”

From across the lobby, a burly man with a strong Russian accent called out, “Does anyone know where I put my beer? It is emotional support.”

You blinked.

Sam sighed beside you. “Welcome to the New Avengers.”

A woman with sharp, blonde hair and electric blue eyeliner passed by, muttering under her breath and typing furiously into a tablet. “I swear to God if Bob drops those milkshakes again—”

Right on cue, a clatter, broken glass and milkshake all over the pinewood floor. Bob, you assumed, stood with wide eyes, examining the mess he had made with an almost delayed response. Again? This wasn’t the first time he had done this?

“Why did you even make so many milkshakes?” Yelena sighed, already grabbing a mop to clean the mess.

“Bucky said we might have guests,” Bob replied, looking genuinely disappointed that his time making milkshakes had been wasted.

“Oh my god,” you murmured.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Joaquin whispered, clearly delighted.

And then, amidst the chaos, a familiar figure appeared — Bucky Barnes. Standing at the top of the stairs in full tactical gear, arms folded, jaw tight. His eyes swept over the three of you, stopping on you for half a second longer than necessary.

He descended slowly, calculated and unreadable.

“Nice of you to show,” he said to Sam. “Been waiting.”

Sam held up the signed treaty. “Got what you wanted.”

Bucky didn’t smile. But he did take the folder, nodding once.

Then his eyes returned to you. Just for a breath.

You met his gaze and said nothing.

Because whatever this was — truce, alliance, manipulation — it wasn’t over. And Bucky Barnes wasn’t just an Avenger.

He was your enemy.

And now you were on his team.

Bucky led the three of you through a winding corridor of glass and steel, toward a meeting room tucked behind reinforced doors. He hadn’t said a word since taking the treaty, and you were fine with that. The less you had to hear his voice, the better.

Still, you could feel his presence — heavy, watchful, tense. And it made your skin crawl.

Joaquin gave you a sympathetic look as the doors closed behind the four of you. “This feels like being summoned to the principal’s office,” he whispered, earning a glare from Bucky that only made him grin wider. “Yup, confirmed.”

Sam ignored them both and took a seat at the table, gesturing for you to do the same. You hesitated — only a beat — before sitting across from Bucky. He opened the folder and flipped through the pages, then set it aside.

“The team’s unstable,” Bucky said bluntly, addressing Sam. “We’re barely functioning. Half the government wants to shut us down. The other half wants to use us as weapons. This treaty… it’s not just a co-leadership agreement. It’s our last shot at legitimacy.”

Sam nodded. “That’s why I signed it. But you know, I still don’t trust the system behind it. This whole thing is like the Accords all over again. Everything that we fought against.”

“I was on Steve’s side that day, regardless of his beliefs. I didn’t care for the politics. Kinda had my own shit going on.” Bucky sighed, running his metal hand through his wavy hair. The metallic black caught a sliver of light and sparkled under the afternoon sun.

“Which is how it’s always been,” Sam frowned. There was that look again. The betrayal. If you hadn’t known any better, you might have thought that Sam and Bucky were ex-lovers, going through the breakup of the century. The tension in the room was sharper than a knife. “You saying you’re okay with being under the control of Val, Congressman?”

“No. No. And I’m not a Congressman anymore,” Bucky corrected like it was an extremely important detail he had to defend himself from. “You know me. You know what I’m trying to do here.”

Sam nodded briefly, something in his face softening. You read his aura, and it glowed with faith. Belief. Hope. “I still don't trust this.”

“I don’t either,” Bucky admitted. “But I trust you.”

Silence settled between them. You watched closely — the decades of history between them pressing into every glance, every pause. There was something unspoken there. Something heavy.

“Then let’s get to work,” Sam said. “She’s in.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to you again. “You sure?”

You crossed your arms. “I didn’t come all this way to sit on the bench.”

“Good,” Bucky muttered, standing. “You start training tomorrow. Physical and tactical.”

“With you?” you asked, unable to keep the disdain out of your voice.

“Problem?”

You gave him a tight smile. “Guess I’ll just have to lower my expectations.”

He stared at you, unreadable, before turning to leave.

Sam caught your gaze as the door closed behind him. “He’s rough around the edges,” he said. “But he means well.”

You didn’t respond. Because it didn’t matter what he meant.

You had a personal mission. And this was only the beginning.

You were still sitting at the conference table when the door slammed open like a bad sitcom entrance.

“Lena said she’s ordering Chinese food,” Bob announced, stepping inside with the grace of a golden retriever on roller skates. “Anyone staying for dinner?”

Joaquin leaned forward immediately. “Does that include dumplings? Because if so—hell yes.”

Sam chuckled under his breath. “I could eat.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking to the door that Bucky left from. You were still recovering from sharing air with the man, let alone sweet and sour chicken.

But... maybe you needed to see what you were up against.

“Sure,” you murmured.

Bob smiled. “Great. Fun. Exciting. Oh! I can make you a milkshake too, if you’d like. I can do vanilla or chocolate, or strawberry. But not banana. They don’t blend properly because John freezes them. And come to think of it, someone keeps hiding the strawberries from me.”

“What do you mean, someone is hiding the strawberries from you?” Sam asked, puzzled with a hint of mild concern. Not concerned for the strawberries, but for Bob.

“I’ve said too much,” Bob stilled. “Gotta run!”

And with that, he was gone, practically leaving an air of smoke behind him.

“I can’t believe this is the team Bucky formed,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right?” Joaquin grinned, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement. “I can’t wait to get to know everyone.”

────✪────

When the sun set, The Avengers Tower common room looked more like a college dorm—empty takeout containers already littered the table, and someone (Alexei) had managed to crack a fortune cookie clean in half before opening it.

You were seated on the oversized sectional with a plate of noodles in your lap, wedged between Yelena—who kept stealing your spring rolls with zero shame—and Joaquin, who had already named three different sauces after himself and started rating them out loud.

“I call this one ‘Torres Tang,’” he said, holding up a little cup of neon orange sauce. “Sweet with a kick. Just like me.”

Bob laughed so hard he choked on his dumpling. Ava handed him a bottle of water without looking up from her phone.

Sam had taken the big armchair like some kind of dad overseeing chaos. Bucky sat at the edge of the couch, mostly silent, mostly brooding, chopsticks barely touched.

And somehow, somehow, it didn’t feel as tense anymore. You were still wary. Still watching him. But the noise helped. The food helped.

Empty, grease-stained boxes were scattered about, chopsticks poked out of rice bowls at odd angles, and someone had already spilt duck sauce on the rug (Bob, according to Yelena, who’d ratted him out instantly).

You were half-listening as Alexei brought over a full bottle of vodka—his contribution to the evening.

“Let’s make it fun,” he said, plopping it down with a loud thud. “One shot for every ‘Never Have I Ever.’ If you have, you drink. If you lie, I will know.”

“Dad… this is so weird.” Yelena groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You're terrifying,” Joaquin said with an impressed whistle, already reaching for a shot glass.

Alexei didn’t use one. He took a clean swig from the bottle and grinned like it was water.

You blinked.

“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath. “Is that even safe?”

“No,” Ava answered without looking up from her phone. “But here we are.”

“Russia’s finest,” Alexei smirked, licking his lips. “Me, not the Vodka. I got this from Walmart,” He nudged you, and you looked at him with a hardened yet confused expression. “I was Russia’s answer to Captain America, you know? They call me the Red Guardian,” He flexed his bicep. “Touch it.”

“I uh—“ you glanced around the room. Yelena looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. Bucky watched, his stare unreadable as usual. And Joaquin was beaming, amused, like this was the most entertaining thing he had ever seen. “No, thank you.”

“One day, you will touch it,” Alexei smiled, proud. “100 percent super soldier serum coursing through my veins. You see how I am much bigger than these two?” He gestured to John and Bucky. “That’s the vodka.”

“The serum actually went to his head and made him delusional,” John said pointedly. “I can bench press 600kg. Nice to meet you.” He extended a hand for you to shake, but you just looked at it, speechless and slightly disturbed.

“Can you guys stop being so odd, you’re gonna make her run away,” Ava warned before mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’ in your direction. You smiled, grateful for her comfort.

You had no plans on running away, and in all honesty, you weren’t really that creeped out. You’d dealt with a lot worse, like Shane and some of the men who frequented McCready’s bar. Because of that, you were quick to realise that these guys were no more than just a simple group of harmless misfits. And for the first time, you felt like you could fit in with them. Besides, you were certainly confident that they weren’t going to harm you, and that counted for something.

Everyone settled into positions on the sectional. Sam had taken a seat in the armchair, casually draped like he wasn’t watching every interaction in the room. But you felt it. The way his gaze drifted to you more than once. Not heavy, not unwelcome — just steady. Soft. Like he was trying to read you.

And then there was Bucky Barnes, sitting across from you.

His drink was untouched at first. But when Alexei took his second swig, Bucky gave a quiet sigh and knocked his own shot back. No flinch. No change in expression. You had no idea what kind of alcohol tolerance came with a super soldier serum, but whatever it was, it was intimidating.

“Okay!” Yelena bounced beside you, already a little flushed, a little chaotic. “Never Have I Ever—uh—crashed a government vehicle!”

You stared as Bob, Bucky, Sam, Joaquin, and Alexei all drank.

“Seriously?” you asked.

Sam gave you a sheepish shrug. “It happens.”

“More often than it should,” Ava muttered.

“I’ve never even driven a government vehicle.” You revealed, almost feeling a little left out.

“Don’t worry,” Yelena grinned at you. “You’ll get there.”

Another round.

“Never have I ever... kissed a teammate,” Ava said, a coy little smile playing on her lips.

Joaquin drank immediately.

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

He didn’t explain. Joaquin just leaned into you and whispered, “Regret nothing.”

You didn’t drink. But you did feel two sets of eyes on you.

Sam’s—quiet, full of something like concern or curiosity.

And Bucky’s.

His was different. His stare settled against your skin like a spark. It crawled across your collarbone, dragged over your throat, and stayed. Hot and unmoving. You didn’t dare look back.

You felt your face warm — maybe from the shot, maybe from something else.

“I need another drink,” you muttered and reached for the bottle.

“Atta girl,” Joaquin said, clinking his glass against yours. “Let’s ruin our livers together.”

You laughed. Too loud. You were getting tipsy, and Yelena wasn’t helping — giggling as she told stories about “murder yoga” and missions gone wrong. Joaquin kept the mood light, telling stories about Sam and Red-Wing.

“Who’s Red-Wing?” You asked with a slight stumble over your words.

“Oh, you’re gonna love him, he’s adorable.” Sam beamed proudly.

“He’s like… your dog?”

Joaquin laughed at your suggestion.

“No! He’s my surveillance and reconnaissance drone!” Sam answered, taking a swig of beer, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Even John Walker got into the discussion, though he was a loud, cocky drunk. Every time he spoke, you wanted to toss an egg roll at his head.

Alexei, on the other hand, drank like a man built to survive nuclear winters. You were genuinely impressed he was still upright. He did, however, disappear to pee every ten minutes.

And somehow, Bucky had knocked back three shots without blinking. But he had been so quiet all night. You wondered if this was normal for him.

When it was your turn, you found yourself blurting it out before thinking:

“Never have I ever… felt like I belonged on a team.”

The room went still for a beat too long.

Everyone drank, except you.

Yelena bumped your arm. “That’s because you haven’t had us yet. These guys aren’t just team mates, they’re family. And we hope that, now you join us, you'll feel the same.”

You smiled. A little. But your fingers tightened around your glass.

You wanted to believe her.

And as your eyes flicked across the room—to the quiet kindness in Sam’s, to the electric weight of Bucky’s—you wondered if, for once, you finally might.

The chaos had dulled. Yelena had passed out sideways on the couch, her braid tangled in a takeout box. Ava and Alexei disappeared an hour ago—something about a chessboard and bad Russian soap operas. Bob wandered off humming a lullaby in a different language.

Sam was at the door, pulling on his jacket while Joaquin tried to find both his shoes.

“I told you to keep them on,” Sam muttered, exasperated.

“They were cramping my style,” Joaquin replied, wobbling dramatically with one sock on. “Besides, Yelena dared me to do a split.”

Sam gave you a look like this is my life now.

You grinned, maybe a little dazed, leaning back against the counter in the kitchen. The vodka had crept up on you with slow fingers, leaving your limbs warm and your thoughts fuzzy around the edges. You weren’t drunk, but you were hovering somewhere on the ledge between honesty and recklessness.

“You good?” Sam asked softly, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just need to cool off. And maybe drink a gallon of water.”

Sam gave your shoulder a squeeze, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Don’t disappear tonight.”

You blinked. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, but his eyes lingered, warm and heavy. Like he was seeing more than you wanted him to. “Call me if you need anything. You know that, right?”

You nodded again, trying to pretend you didn’t feel the heat of his hand even after he let go.

Joaquin blew you a kiss on his way out. “Don’t let the assassin bite.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re thinking of Yelena.”

“Same energy,” he called, already halfway out the door.

The apartment fell quiet.

And then you realized you weren’t alone.

You turned — and found him there.

Bucky Barnes.

Leaning against the fridge, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.

You stiffened.

Of course he’d be the last one standing.

The buzz of alcohol still coursed through you, making everything feel a little lighter, a little less sharp. You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the chaotic energy of the night, but your mind had begun to drift in and out of clarity.

You slid off the counter, intending to steady yourself, but the room suddenly tilted, and you stumbled forward, your feet tangled up in the wayward stretch of your own legs.

Before you could hit the ground, there was a hand on your arm, warm and steady. Then another, pulling you back up with an ease that made your stomach flip. His chest was hard beneath your palm, his muscles flexing as he adjusted his grip, the heat of his body surrounding you like a wall.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively pressed your hand a little firmer against him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth and strength underneath. He smelled like soap, leather, and something faintly metallic — unmistakable.

You slowly looked up, meeting his eyes, and for a split second, you forgot where you were. The intensity of his gaze—blues that seemed to see right through you—made your heart flutter uncomfortably. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t look away.

"Got you," he muttered, steadying you, his voice low.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him. How alive you felt in the space between you.

There was a moment of stillness. A breath.

"Are you... reading my aura?" he asked, his voice quieter now, though it carried a hint of teasing.

You tilted your head, eyes locking onto him, your lips parting slightly. "No, I'm just looking at you."

The words came out before you could stop them, and immediately, the flush of heat spread across your face. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The way his muscles moved beneath his shirt when he adjusted his hold, how his eyes flickered for a second—soft, startled. Almost shy.

And then, just like that, you saw it. The faintest blush creeping up his neck. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and for the first time tonight, he seemed... off-balance. The man who had walked into every room like he owned it, now suddenly unsure of himself. It felt like power. Like control slipping through his fingers.

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, though your head spun slightly, making it harder to focus.

"Didn't mean to make you self-conscious," you said, your voice a little slurred.

Bucky laughed softly, shaking his head. "No... you didn’t. Just... wasn't expecting that."

You both stood there for a beat, caught in the weird energy hanging between you. He still hadn’t let go, though you didn’t know if it was because you were still too wobbly to stand or because he was hesitant to break the tension. Either way, you didn’t pull away. The air felt thick, charged, and you could sense it—there was something about him that made you feel like you were about to do something you weren’t quite ready for.

But then, in a sudden shift, Bucky cleared his throat, letting go of your arm but standing close enough that you could still feel the heat radiating from him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped forward, opened the fridge, and pulled out a cold bottle of water. He held it out to you without a word.

You eyed it like it might explode.

“I’m not gonna poison you,” he said flatly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Reluctantly, you took the bottle from his hand. Your fingers brushed his glove. Static popped between your skin. You pulled back too fast.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

Bucky didn’t move. He just watched you twist the cap, take a long sip, and then wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel his eyes on you. Focused. Cautious.

Like he was trying to piece you together.

“I guess tonight we learned that you shouldn’t mix vodka and Chinese food,” he murmured.

“Smartass. I’m fine. You sound like an Avenger,” you shot back. You weren’t even sure what you meant by that, or where the relevance was. Maybe you were also reminding yourself that you were an Avenger now, too.

“I am one.” He deadpanned.

“Yeah. Unfortunately.” You sighed.

He flinched—just a flicker of something in his jaw, something regretful—but didn’t fight you on it.

“You still hate me,” he said.

You looked away. “I haven’t decided.”

“Okay.”

The silence stretched, soft and brittle.

You hated how nice the water felt. How steady he was, even when you didn’t want to trust him. He hadn’t tried anything. He hadn’t said anything clever or smug. Just… stood there. Let you exist in your tired, tipsy state without pushing.

“I can get you a cab,” he offered after a moment. “Or you can crash here. We’ve got spare rooms.”

“Why are you being so—” you stopped. Swallowed. “Why are you trying to take care of me?”

He held your gaze. “I just… I don’t know,” he looked away. “We’re family now. And family takes care of each other.”

Your throat tightened.

You wanted to say something cruel. Wanted to twist the knife, remind him of your brother, of what he did.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because you didn’t feel like spiralling tonight.

Not when he looked at you like that.

Bucky hadn’t moved. You were still clutching the cold water bottle like it was a lifeline, and for once, he didn’t feel like a threat. Just a quiet presence, filling the silence without demanding anything from you.

You hated how easy it was to let your shoulders relax around him.

“I guess I’m just not used to this,” you muttered.

He tilted his head slightly. “Used to what?”

“Someone… noticing,” you said, voice low, almost embarrassed.

His blue eyes softened.

“I don’t need it, by the way,” you added quickly. “I’ve been fine on my own.”

Unlike Sam, Bucky didn’t contradict you. Didn’t say that doesn’t sound fine.

He just stayed quiet.

You didn’t look at him when you spoke again. “You’re not what I expected.”

He raised a brow. “Cold-blooded killer with a vibranium arm and a brooding attitude?”

“That’s not… entirely wrong,” you smirked faintly, despite yourself. “But you’re less of an asshole than I imagined.”

He chuckled, just once. A real one, deep and unexpected. “High praise.”

You took another drink of your water. Bucky watched. “What kind of name is Bucky, anyway? It’s kind of dumb.”

“My name is James,” He revealed, and something in you shifted at the revelation. A sliver of his personal life. “My sister was called Rebecca, and we called her Becky. My middle name is Buchanan, so my folks called me Bucky. Becky and Bucky.”

You felt your heart stop in your chest. “You have a sister?”

“Had,” Bucky corrected. “Being 111 years old means I don’t really have much family left.”

“Oh," Ditto. "So you’re really old. Like, older than my grandpa…”

Bucky frowned.

“Do super soldiers die?” You pondered out loud.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“How does one kill a super soldier?” You giggled through the water bottle, enjoying the sudden confidence that the alcohol had instilled in you.

“You’ve had way too much vodka,” Bucky huffed under his breath, extending his hand and having it hover over your shoulder, like he was afraid to touch you.

“No, no no no, trust me, if I were sober I’d be asking the same questions.” You laughed harder this time. Bucky stood there, watching you, confused, but then he finally let his hand rest upon you, and you let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

"Come on," he said, a little more briskly, though his voice had the same softness as before. "Let's get you to bed. You need water."

You blinked, still a little dizzy, but nodded. "I’m fine," you protested, but the words felt like they slipped out half-heartedly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure you are."

The two of you walked quietly back into the living room, but you didn’t miss the way his hand floated just a little too close to your back, as though it might reach out again if you needed it.

But you didn’t need it. Or did you?

You weren’t sure.

You followed him down the corridor. The tower was dim, most of the lights on a motion sensor timer. You could still hear someone’s snores echoing faintly—probably Alexei, given the volume.

He stopped at a door and opened it for you. The room was surprisingly cozy. Not lavish, just… calm. A bed with fresh sheets, folded blankets, and a little chair by the window. It felt untouched, like it was waiting for you.

You stepped inside, but before you could say goodnight, Bucky’s voice followed you.

“Training starts at six.”

You turned, narrowing your eyes. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” he said. “You want to stay on the team, you train with me. Early.”

You groaned, already regretting everything.

“Water’s on the nightstand,” he added, nodding toward it. “And Tylenol in the drawer. You’re gonna want it.”

You didn’t thank him. Not out loud.

But you lingered in the doorway.

“Why are you like this?” you asked, quieter than before.

He looked at you, confused. “Like what?”

“Careful. Thoughtful. Like you’re trying to be better.”

He paused for a long time.

“Because I have to be,” he said. “If I’m not, then I’m just him again.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t have to ask who him was.

He turned to leave, but then hesitated.

“I see the way Sam looks at you,” he said, voice tight. “It’s not just a teammate thing.”

You blinked. That was the last thing you expected him to say.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sam looks at everyone like that.”

“No,” Bucky said. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t answer. Just stepped into the room and let the door click shut between you.

But even after you lay down, curled into the strange sheets and tried to close your eyes, you could still feel Bucky’s voice in the room with you.

And the strange, unwelcome comfort that came with it.

Bucky closed the door to his own room with a quiet click.

He leaned back against it, exhaled slowly, and raked a hand through his hair. The dim light from the hallway disappeared under the seam of the door, and for a moment, he stood there in silence. Listening. Thinking.

You.

God, you were loud in his head.

He moved across the room, sat on the edge of the bed like he was waiting for something to pass—some thought, some feeling—but it didn’t. It just kept building.

The way your lips had curled, tired but amused, when he’d handed you that bottle of water. That small smile like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

The way you looked tonight—dressed in soft cotton and drunk warmth, all fire and fight and something almost tender.

You had a sharp tongue. You didn’t hide your disdain for him. In fact, you wore it like perfume—thick and impossible to ignore.

But he saw the way your expression faltered when you thought no one was looking. The heaviness behind your posture. The moments where you softened, briefly, like you didn’t know how to hold it together anymore.

And your eyes—those damn eyes. Always reading. Always pulling more out of him than he gave.

He hated that.

He hated how much he noticed you. Hated how it pulled something out of him he didn’t have a name for.

You hated him. You should hate him.

And maybe that’s what made it worse. That he knew he didn’t deserve anything else.

But still…

Still, when he closed his eyes, it was your face he saw.

The tilt of your head. The sliver of skin at your collarbone. The sound of your laugh—rare, unpredictable.

He sat back on the bed and dragged a hand down his face.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself.

Feelings were messy. Dangerous. They clouded judgment. He didn’t want to want anything—not peace, not forgiveness, and definitely not you.

But wanting had a way of sneaking in. Quiet and slow and relentless.

He lay back on the bed, arm draped over his eyes, heart beating too loud in the stillness.

Tomorrow, he’d train you. Tomorrow, he’d look at you and pretend none of this mattered.

But tonight… he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you felt when you stumbled into his chest.

So, so stupid.

You hated him, and he hated you.

Or, he hated being hated by you.

────✪────

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nathanbatemanfucker · 2 months ago

Note

hii, your fanfics are amazing I LOVEEEE them. Could I please request some pregnancy fic with Joaquin. I’m begging you I need it to live😩

Thank youu xoxo

Little Loves

about this; wc: 642, pairing: joaquin torres x f!reader, contents: fluff, pregnancy, weird food cravings, an: this was such a pleasure to write, I love a little fluffy moment, hope u enjoy!

danny ramirez characters masterlist

Joaquin wakes with a start, his hand finding nothing but the cold, silky sheets your shared bed is adorned with. He glances at the clock and sees that it’s 3 a.m.

Usually, if he woke up in bed alone, he would be worried about you—but your pregnancy hasn’t been an easy one. Sleep’s been hard for you; you can’t hardly get comfortable, or the baby shifts around too much as he’s grown.

There are a few places he could find you. Sometimes, you like to sit in the rocking chair in the nursery, and other times, he finds you laid out on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position.

The last place he usually finds you is where he does. You’re sitting on the kitchen floor, your round belly peeking out of your tank top, with various snacks strewn about.

Your eyes are closed as you lean against the cabinets, popping a peanut butter-dipped Oreo in your mouth before following it with a scoop of strawberry jelly.

Joaquin is used to strange things—Sam has schooled him on his big three: androids, aliens, and wizards. So it doesn’t phase him that once you’re done with your PBJ Oreo, you’re dipping a pickle in shaved ice.

“You’ok?” you mumble through bites.

“Are you?” he teases through a yawn. He maneuvers his way through your food maze and lowers himself to sit beside you, his shoulder bumping yours lightly before he stretches his legs out.

“I was hungry,” you say defensively. “Tu bebé tiene un apetito.”

“Our baby,” he corrects softly, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His touch is slow, unthinking, like he’s trying to soothe the baby back to sleep. “Tienes hambre de algo más?”

“Mmm,” you pause, growing thoughtful as you think of all the options. Joaquin’s been thorough, making sure the kitchen is stocked with anything you could possibly want. “Those powdered donuts? Oh, and—and the cranberry juice?”

“Seguro, mi amor.”

You watch him move through the kitchen with grace, making quick work of your requests. When he comes to join again, he has a bag of spicy chips in his hand.

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Figured I needed a snack if I was gonna keep you company.”

“Joaquin, you don’t have to stay up with me. Aren’t you and Sam heading out in a couple days?” you ask, ripping open the bag of donuts.

“Of course I have to. I’m your husband. And I want to,” he assures you. The hand not buried in a bag of chips finds its way back to your belly, tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin.

“You know, if I hadn’t married you already, I’d think you were too good to be true.” You lean over, resting your head on his shoulder, sighing when his fingers shift to rub lazy patterns along your back.

Joaquin drops a kiss on your forehead before shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth. “Means I got a good reputation.”

“Mhmm,” you murmur sleepily.

The two of you stay like that, exchanging sweet little quips through munching and crunching. Joaquin keeps his hand on your belly, rubbing absentmindedly while your breathing slows. Eventually, you doze off, your weight sinking heavier into him. He can tell by the way your breath evens out and the little hum you let out just before fully relaxing.

He doesn’t have the heart to wake you up, knowing how difficult it can be for you to get to sleep.

Sure, his back might ache a little in the morning by sleeping upright beside you, and he’ll have to restock some of your favorite snacks. But those are small inconveniences in the wake of your happiness.

He settles in, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close before letting his own eyes flutter shut. “Dulces sueños, mi amorcitos.”

lmk if you’d like to be on the sfw joaquin torres masterlist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl

#anon ur so sweeeet #thank u sm for reading and enjoying it means so much!#this was funnnn #and i think could be expanded on if you wanted #al’s mail requests #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #falcon x reader #marvel x reader #joaquin torres fanfiction #arson writes

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clubsoft · 3 months ago

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⠀

⠀ ⠀ PARTY 4 U ⠀ ⠀ CH . 01 ⠀ ⠀ JOAQUIN TORRES A . K . A FALCON / F ! READER⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ joaquin finds love on a dating app && does anything he can to get her closer . WARNINGS ⋆ fluffy for now / next chapters will def have smut / not - a - superhero ! au / wealthy , lowkey sugar daddy ! joaquin / mutual pining / they r in luvvvv lowk / awkward convos / banter / joaquin has some dirty thoughts / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 2 . 8 k NOTES ⋆ i made a tiny lil playlist to go with this , u can listen to it here !! all my love for danny ramirez came flooding back n i couldn't stop thinking of him as lover boy mcgee ... dreamy sigh ... enjoy !!

A swipe of her thumb changed the trajectory of the summer for the better. What was meant to be a slothful three months of taking it day by day, hoping, praying for any excitement to befall the lazy crawl of time became late nights tapping away at her phone, and endless conversations with a boy in another timezone: Joaquin. The dating app had been a distraction, uninstalled as soon as his number made its way into her contacts, texts traded for images. Innocent, as it always starts, he sent himself, in the gym, muscular arms flexed, pretty pearly whites flashing in a charming smile. Tan skin, overgrown curls slanting into playful eyes, she’d found herself intimidated, yet enthralled all the same.

He was treating her. It was only right she rewarded him in return.

Joaquin’s recompense took the form of a mirror selfie in a dressing room; a baby pink dress, made to be taken off, kissing, clinging to every curve — mouth watering. To add to his torture, she’d followed the vision up with: so cute, so expensive. Exposed by the exchange, their definitions of expensive were worlds apart.

$3000 received from Joaquin Torres: ‘Wear it for our first date.’

“Joaquin, that’s too much, you have to take it back,” she’d whined over the phone minutes later, a deep chuckle coming from his end of the line.

“You said it was expensive—”

“Yeah, eighty bucks!” Too loud, catching glares from other shoppers, she sighed and lowered her voice. “It was only eighty bucks. I can afford that, I’m sending it back.” She was still shaken from the notification, fingers trembling, intending to do as she said, brought to an end by his answer.

“No.” Joaquin’s tone was firm, his grin audible, his mind made up. “Keep it, buy yourself other pretty things to wear for me. You need more, you let me know.”

Men in the real world can’t be trusted, men online ought to be monsters, but there are always outliers; a man too good to be true that happens to be true after all. With money in her account, and shopping bags littering her bedroom, she’d convinced herself that Joaquin was her Prince Charming, sent to her by Aphrodite herself to save her from the lonely, boyfriend-less, love-empty, paycheck-to-paycheck life, that his interest reflected hers identically. He was respectful, kind, patient, and had yet to bring up the topic of sex, whereas any other man in his seat would’ve begun posing with his cock in his hand. The bar was low, and Joaquin was in his home gym, using it to make those strong arms of his all the more delicious, raising it with ease.

A month and a half into being matchmade, one night on FaceTime, after almost an hour of blissful silence, Joaquin asked, “You wanna come to my party next weekend?” The question was posed as though there weren’t thousands of miles between them, met with hesitation on her end, causing him to continue: “I’ll fly you out Thursday, we can hang on Friday… I’ll take you shopping. Party’s Friday night. It’ll be fun.” He sounded nervous, fumbling for words to convince her. Those brown puppy dog eyes twinkling below furrowed brows, gazing at her lips, waiting for them to part, only to cut her off when they did, trying his very best to stave off what he thought was oncoming rejection, the rumble of his chest audible in his words as he murmured, “I really want to see you. I want to touch you and kiss you good morning and good night. The texts aren’t enough anymore…” His hands clamping over his face, he fell back onto his bed, out of frame. “Your lips look so soft — you look so soft. Please.”

How could she say no?

⠀⠀

Joaquin traces the shield shape of the Porsche logo with his fingertips, his knee bouncing as he watches the automatic sliding doors of the airport gate like a hawk. He’s seen her silhouette a thousand times in pictures, stalking her Instagram, scrolling through their texts, imprinting every line of her figure behind his eyelids. Every moment of downtime is consumed by her, thoughts notching themselves into a spectrum of museum dates and ice cream to her pressed into his mattress, chanting his name like a mantra. Ice cream was easy to discuss, a two-hour conversation about favorite flavors and other sweet treats — a mutual sweet tooth — had distracted him from his work only days prior. He’d called her sweet, she’d giggled, and he’d forced his next set of words to die on his tongue: Can I have a taste?

The doors open, and angels sing. Heavenly beams of light dance over delicate features as she finally appears. A gust of wind blows past, tousles beautiful, beautiful hair, sending her into a bout of struggle as she rushes to fix it, not catching him approaching her in the midst. He calls her name, softly at first, then a bit louder.

“Joaquin!” She chirps back, sheepish simper on glossy lips. “Hi!” Her arms open, inviting him in; he swoops down, drawing her into his embrace without missing a beat. Pressed to his front, her heels lift off the ground, and when he steps back, his hands remain on her waist. Joaquin’s gaze travels down, down, down, absorbing everything from the stitched flowers on her jeans to the ribbon ties of her shoelaces. Then, up, up, up, waist, chest, a swan-like neck— a face that broke the mold. Their eyes meet, and it dawns on him that she’s doing the same, opening her mouth, but he steals the words before she can speak.

“You’re real,” he breathes out, his thumbs pressing into her shirt, the warmth of his palms seeping through the fabric. Her smaller hands find his chest, her smile bashful.

“I am…”

He doesn’t kiss her just yet, too shaky, too nervous — afraid he’ll lay it on too thick and chase her off. His nerves contradict the romantic perfectionist in him, the one that wants their first kiss to be memorable, not just a formality in front of the airport; a lazy, no-effort thank you for humoring him and taking a flight across the country. The gentlemanly things are in order overall — carrying her bags to the trunk, opening the passenger side door, holding her hand as she climbs into the seat… feigning confidence as her gentle gaze follows his movements, beholding him with a fondness he doesn’t allow himself to translate. He fears if he does, he won’t make it to their destination without spilling all over her.

“My place first — got all your favorite stuff made for dinner, you gotta eat real food after that bullshit they try to feed you on the plane,” he says with his signature smile, buckling himself in. She adjusts her seatbelt, and shrugs, his brightness contagious; her cheeks already feel warm from grinning so much.

“I dunno… I like the snacks they give you! They gave me complimentary champagne, that was nice! I didn’t know rich people got to be drunk for free on flights.” Arguing her case is useless because Joaquin shakes his head as he drives off the sideroad, onto the lane heading towards the freeway. He opens his mouth to declare an equally playful rebuttal when she continues, “But let me guess, it’s cheap, wack champagne. Right? Right, Joaquin?”

He gasps, chokes out a laugh, and then nods, “It’s fucking terrible!”

Banter is more common than not between them — Joaquin’s personality thrives off it, his goal in any conversation is to make the other laugh. With her, it’s especially important — special. If he can work his way to one of her mellifluous giggles, his day is made, and the rest of the world can go to hell for all he cares. Over the phone, it’s a piece of cake. When she’s less than arm’s width away, it’s natural, as though the space between them has always been minimal. He tells a joke, she laughs, presses a dainty little hand to his bicep, and he decides he’ll never let that space grow again.

⠀⠀

The GPS blanks out shortly past them turning off the main road, much to her confusion, as the street they’re on is very much paved. Joaquin notes the knit in her brow, and offers a grin with an explanation, “This is the driveway. All this belongs to me— my family, they wanted their house at the center of it all. These are all orchards.”

After all this time, she’s become acutely aware of Joaquin’s financial status. If it weren’t for the downpour of gifts, the stacks of paperwork that occupied his attention during their calls and FaceTimes had made it transparently obvious. However, seeing it before her eyes couldn’t be more jarring. His car takes them from a dark asphalt path to one of sandy, beige stone, leading up to a mansion that’s nothing short of a palace. It’s perfect for California, with a white stone exterior. Rounded tuscan-style tiles of an earthy red shade decorate the roof. Gardeners take delicate care of the flowers surrounding the entrance, and Joaquin greets them with a smile as he drives up to the front door, circling the statue of a headless angel at the center of the roundabout.

“This is all so beautiful,” she muses, beaming, her orbs and her simper twinkling just alike. “I really appreciate you bringing me here, this is the coolest house I think I’ve ever seen.” Joaquin hums, and tells her it’s not a big deal as he removes his shoes near the entryway, feet sliding into a pair of navy green slippers. Hopping up the stairs leading to the set of wooden double doors, a step and a half behind him, she spins a full circle, ogling at the masterpiece of a lawn from a proper point of view, filling her chest with a deep breath. Her compliment isn’t empty politeness, it truly is the grandest place she’s ever visited. To say she’s out of her depths is an understatement, and she glues her palms to her jeans. She thought she was scared of heights, snakes, or bugs, yet the mere thought of bumping a table and shattering one of the beautiful, priceless glass motifs climbs her list of fears at the speed of light.

Not only would it drive Joaquin away, and upset him, but in no universe would she be able to financially recover — that is, if she could cover the cost in the first place.

Joaquin sets a pair of slippers before her, looking almost as skittish as she feels. “You c-could stay here,” he stammers without thinking, eyes widening upon realization, hurriedly attempting to apologize, “Sorry. Not like with me— I know you booked at a hotel, but we have a lot of rooms— I wouldn’t ask you to have sex with me on our first day of—” Cutting himself off mid-sentence, he glances up. She’s staring at him, amused, with that same fondness from earlier. “Stop. Don’t laugh.”

“I wasn’t going to laugh!”

A chuckle slips past her lips, betraying her. “You’re laughing!” Joaquin grunts, rubbing a hand over his face, shamefaced. It isn’t fair to take her time removing her sneakers and shoving her feet into the provided pearly white slippers, to make him wait. It isn’t fair at all, but what is she to do when he looks so cute standing there, blushing? “Say something… please.”

“I don’t think… that… and I wouldn’t mind staying over…” she replies, trailing off, looking anywhere but his eyes, teasing him.

“But? Is there a but in there?” His frown deepens, high cheekbones glowing pink. “You’re still fucking with me!” A sigh, and her countenance softens.

“You already did so much for me, I owe you so much money, I don’t wanna impose and—”

“I don’t care about that. I’d really — really like it if you spent the night — if you’re comfy enough with me to do that — I know it’s probably weird, though, so I’m probably scaring you — Christ.” This time, he runs both hands down his red hot face, and blurts out, “I really like you! I’m so excited that you’re here and I don’t wanna look like a fuckin’ virgin and give you the ick — you can say no, I won’t be mad, but just know I’ll keep a safe distance and—”

“Don’t want you to keep a safe distance,” she cuts in. It sucks all the air out of his lungs; he waits with bated breath. Her voice subsides, quietens to say, “I’ll stay. I would love to stay… I mean, came all this way to see you, right? I should spend as much time with you as I can, no?”

“Yeah, yeah… I think so, too…” Soothed by her answer, Joaquin pads closer, she has to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact. His curls curtain his gaze; longing, locked in on her parted lips — it flicks up, he wordlessly asks for permission, and she lifts her chin in response. Her heart pounds against her ribcage, teeth digging into her lower lip as one large hand snakes around her hip, two fingers in her belt loop. He’s so close, close enough to breathe in his expensive cologne, the one made in 2007 that he always complains about not finding — the mint on his lips, the gum he chews to help him quit smoking. Surreal doesn’t cover it, he’s a materialization of every fun fact he’s ever told her, and sure, that’s how life works, but how could the years craft someone so desirable? Someone she gets the privilege of feeling, her palms against his torso. He’s warm — strong under her touch, and his heart… it threatens to beat out of his chest, right into her hand as he kisses her. He’s all soft lips and careful tugs to her hips, his other hand finds the opposite loop, the pads of his thumbs glide under the hem of her cotton shirt — he kisses her like he’s trying to slow down time; gentle, patient.

It’s romantic, liplocking in the arched doorway of a mansion surrounded by orchards, the sun setting in front of them, silhouetting them in pinks and purples. She pulls back only once she’s breathless, bunching his shirt into her fists, and Joaquin chases one last peck, followed by a bright white grin that crinkles his eyes. He’s about to speak when an older woman emerges from around the corner, and squeals, picking up speed until she’s standing before them, either oblivious to their closeness or indifferent to it.

“This is the girl you were telling me about!” She sings the words, smiling from ear to ear. Joaquin, slightly miffed, looks at her and sighs, dragging his hand across the belt of the younger girl’s jeans, over the small of her back to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yes, mom, this is her,” he groans, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue once more, out of embarrassment this time. A type of embarrassment that only a mother can invoke in her child. He goes about introducing them, gesturing his hand from one to the other, “ —and this is my mom, Esperanza.”

“I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so good to finally meet you!” Esperanza shakes her hand with both of hers, glowing with joy.

“He talks about me?”

The grunt Joaquin lets out is answer enough, though Esperanza is more than happy to elaborate: “Oh, yes! At this point, there isn’t much else he talks about. He was so excited about you coming here, he had his outfit set on his bed like picture day was coming up—”

“Mama!”

“Ah… right. You weren’t supposed to know about that.” Esperanza reaches out and pets his curls dotingly, her laughter mixing with that of their visitor’s. “I’m sorry, cariño, it was an accident!” It’s an endearing sight, the masculine, self-sufficient, all-capable presence that is Joaquin Torres defeated by his adoring mother in front of the girl he’s utterly enamored by. “Shall we eat? I’m very excited for tonight’s dinner, I have so many questions for you!” Then, she boops the younger girl’s nose — boops it, leaving her stunned as she all but dances away.

“I am so sorry,” Joaquin groans out, covering his eyes with his free hand. Even still, his fingers are wrapped around her waist. “That was so—”

“Cute. That was so cute.” Interrupted for the umpteenth time, he’s once again led away from his anxiety by her sweet voice. “I love your outfit, too… Very impressed.” A playful scowl tugs at his upper lip and she giggles, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss it away.

“Thank god for that,” he murmurs against her mouth, kissing her once more just as his mother’s voice bellows from the opposite end of the hallway, and he rolls his eyes, tugging the girl along towards the dining room. “C’mon.”

⠀⠀ ⠀

TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my fics , pls click this link && fill out the form !! u will be added immediately && get a notif for my next fic !!

#fic.#joaquin torres #the falcon #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #the falcon x reader #danny ramirez x reader #danny ramirez #marvel fic #marvel x reader #avengers x reader

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strawberryblue-blog · 9 months ago

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Kisses —FC BARCELONA.

summary: What are their kisses like or how do they like to kiss you?

warnings: none. cute, soft, fluff, headcanon.

—Pedri Gonzalez.

His kisses are too long and affectionate. He likes the sensation of feeling you close to him, he thinks it is intimate and the most tender way to show love.

He could spend hours kissing your lips, soft and delicate, showing you how much he likes your lips. He is very shy at times but if you kiss him first, he will not be able to stop.

Your soft and full lips are like an addiction for Pedri, he loves the sensation of feeling them on his skin at any time. Whether on his cheeks or forehead. During sex, he also kisses your lips a lot, especially to silence his squeals and to make you feel loved. Because he really loves you and your lips a lot.

—Pablo Gavi.

One of the most amateur kissers in history, not of your lips but of your neck and jaw. He likes your lips but is obsessed with the soft, supple skin of your neck.

Especially because he likes to mark his trails, so when his lips are on your neck, he will play with you until you turn red. He loves the sensation of hearing you gasp and laugh at the same time.

During sex, he prefers not so much to kiss as to watch. Watching you is more his thing, but, after the action he is very affectionate and caring. Maybe there he kisses you too much to make up for what he couldn't kiss you before.

—Ferran Torres.

Ferran knows what a good kisser he is, he always received compliments about it and you always remind him of it. So when he is with you he likes to kiss you all the time because he knows how much you like his kisses.

He kisses you anywhere, no matter where it is, he knows how to make your skin bristle with so little. On your lips, neck and shoulders. Your shoulders are his weakness.

When you are having sex he doesn't kiss so much because he likes to concentrate on you but from time to time he seeks your lips. His kisses are very long and seductive.

—Fermin López.

Fermín loves kissing, loves kissing you and loves to be kissed by you. An exchange of mutual love which, for Fermín, is heaven itself. He loves to feel your lips on his, short or long, he doesn't care.

He could kiss you all day long, on your lips, your thighs, your belly, your neck or your face. He's super cheesy and tender. He knows you like it and he will take advantage of it to feel you.

Not necessarily during sex, because sometimes he can't hold back the moans and has to let them out but after he's done, he'll be a ball of love. He will kiss you so much, until you fall asleep. Just like the next morning, he will wake you up with his kisses.

—Alejandro Balde.

Although he loves to kiss your lips, his lips always find your hands to kiss them delicately. He is so tender and delicate, he loves to make you feel like a princess.

Although your lips are his favorite, he will kiss them whenever you can. Every now and then he will give you a peck on your lips. He finds it fun and romantic. He is obsessed with your mouth, so lips and tongue for him.

When you are having sex, he likes to kiss you even more. It's a different kind of connection and he loves to feel your warm lips on his.

—Hector Fort.

He's definitely a kisser, a lot. Too much. And not only that, he kisses like the gods. Hector has a gift and he knows how to use it on you.

Kissing your neck, chest and shoulders is his favorite pastime while you're together. No matter what you do he will come and take his time with you. He concentrates on you, kissing your skin delicately with that seductive and haughty touch he has.

During sex he kisses much more your breasts or shoulders than your lips. But when you're done, he'll take care of leaving you with lungs and lips asleep.

—Lamine Yamal.

He is overconfident and despite being young, he has a certain amount of experience. He loves to kiss you either on the lips or on your forehead, he finds it protective and tender.

He likes to kiss your nose too, as a little detail he has with you. But sometimes he plays rough and wants you to kiss him and take the initiative.

In sex he is a little kisser but not so much, maybe more your neck or bite your shoulders but he will definitely do it when he finishes and kiss you for a while afterwards.

—Pau Cubarsí.

He is not a big fan of kissing on the lips because he thinks he doesn't give them correctly. He's still young and just learning, he's also a bit insecure.

Clearly he doesn't agree with that, Pau is a good kisser and when he kisses you he is intense and fiery. But he likes it when you kiss him long and deep.

He prefers to kiss your face how, forehead, nose, cheeks and ears. He finds it tender and that is his way of showing his love. In bed he may be a little more kissy to show his love for you, he likes to be gentle and soft with you.

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 months ago

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Only Want Your Kiss

Fandom: Marvel (Actor AU)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin is head over heels in love with you. You know this and he knows you know this, BUT he still feels bad whenever he has to kiss and be intimate with another actor. Which always leads to you receiving some extra love from him.

A/N: Inspired by this TikTok.

You Joaquin was an actor when he asked you out. You've seen some of his work, hell, you became a fan of his work! When he told you he got cast in an indie romance film, you were happy for him, of course!

But then he sat you down.

"So I was reading through the script."

"Yeah, and?"

"There's some kissing and slightly steamy scenes involved in this film."

You slowly nod, "Alright."

"I just, you know, I wanted to make sure you're okay with that. I auditioned for this role before we got together and now we're together and plan on moving in and everything, I wanted to check in to make sure this kind of stuff is okay with you."

You softly smile at him, "Of course it is, Joaquin. It's your job, I know you don't mean anything by it."

"You sure? Because if anything, I could get a body double for the steamy scenes-"

"Will there an intimacy coordinator available?"

He nods, "Yeah."

"Then we're good."

"Okay...you sure?"

You can't help but let out a laugh of disbelief, "I am! Honestly, babe, I really appreciate you telling me and checking in with me about this."

"Of course. When we first started talking, you said communication is one of your biggest things in a relationship. I want to make sure I never unintentionally hate you or ruin what we have," he reaches out and interlaces his fingers with yours.

You lean in and peck his lips, "I love you." It'd been a few months since you two exchange those words to each other, and it still brings a smile to Joaquin's face when he hears them.

"I love you too."

____________________________

Joaquin told you he'd be coming over after work with some food and to spend time with you. You expected him.

However, what you didn't expect was for him to immediately push you up against the door, lips pressing against yours.

You giggle into the kiss and push him back a bit, "This is a nice welcome, but what for?"

"Missed you is all," he mumbles and pecks your lips again. He takes a step back, "Go ahead and sit on the couch. I'll plate the food."

"I can help-"

"No, no, baby. Go on. I got it." he welcomes himself into your kitchen and begins to pull out plates and bowls for the takeout he brought.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he's coming out with two plates in hand. He hands you yours and then sets his on the coffee table. He rushes back to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of your favorite drink.

You look at him confused, "What's going on? You're acting weird."

"I promise, baby, nothing's wrong," he kisses your head and sits beside you on the couch.

He then puts on your favorite show, and eats in silence beside you. Throughout the episode, you side-eye him. He watches the show intently, while shoveling food into his mouth. Every once in a while, he'll make a comment on what's happening on the show, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Once you two are full, he places your feet onto his lap and begins massaging them.

You try to think what might've happened at work for him to behave oddly. Then you remembered: he was filming the kissing scene today.

You giggle and Joaquin's attention is pulled from the tv show to you, "What's up?"

"Are you doing this because you kissed someone else?" you ask with a smirk.

He looks away from you sheepishly, "Maybe..."

You giggle, pulling your feet away and moving closer to him, "Joaquin, I told you it's fine. I know it's just work to you."

"I still feel bad. I just-I don't wanna fuck things up with you. You told me how poorly your exes treated you and I don't wanna end up like them."

You practically melt at his reasoning. You already know that Joaquin will never be like your exes. Even from the first day of meeting him, you knew he was different from the rest of them. He made sure you were comfortable, never pressed too hard on things. He took his time and went at a slow pace because you wanted to.

You cup his face in your hands, "I love you. And I can tell you with one hundred percent confidence, that you will never be like my exes. Because of how considerate and communicative you are, you've already surpassed all of them."

He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, "I just wanna remind you that I care about you. That you're loved and I always wanna make sure you're okay."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, "See? My exes would never." And that has you both chuckling.

Joaquin wipes away a rogue tear that runs down your cheek, "I hope the only tears I make you shed are ones of happiness and love."

You giggle, "Didn't you say that in one of your movies?"

He pauses for a moment and then nods, "Yeah...I think I did. Damn, I thought I was original for that one."

You full on laugh this time, "You're such a dork," and you kiss his lips, which he happily kisses back.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquin torres imagine #marvel fic #marvel au #actor au

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nightwingshero · 2 years ago

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Leon Kennedy - Brianna Torres - Ashley Graham

1/2 gift for @gummibrit for the Resident Evil Exchange Event by @sstewyhosseini

#i hope you like this #i tried to do them justice for you #i had so much fun making this and learning about your self insert #bri torres #leon s kennedy #ashley graham #resident evil #re gift exchange 2023

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goosewriting · 3 months ago

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Could I get a scenario for joaquin x reader: where the reader is an avenger (she was like a protege to clint and natasha) but her main job was designing the suits and gear for other superheroes that works better with their fighting styles. Sams nickname for her is Sketch.

Sam introduces her to joaquin at Isaiahs gym (she trains there but looks after him on sams behalf). She starts to study joaquin to better understand how to equip his suit. After one of their cases, joaquin wanted to make a note in their sketch book where their designs are but ends up finding a different notebook that are not suit/gear sketches, but sketches of everyday things and most of the sketches are of him. Reader walks in to see joaquin found their personal sketch book and freaks out and becomes a stuttering mess. They end up confessing to each other and please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or two lol. Sorry if this is long, but I had some inspo and your work has been lovely 😊

Sketch

summary: Joaquín discovers that reader’s sketchbook features a lot of drawings of himself.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: none, fluff! kisses, maybe secondhand embarrassment lol

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i decided to use ‘sewist’ here as a gender neutral term instead of seamster/seamstress. i also changed it a lil bit so that Sam hasn’t seen the green suit yet. and i added a lil bit more at the end to lead up to the kiss, which i hope you’ll like!<3 tysm for requesting, this was such an adorable ask,, it took form in my mind almost immediately and i kept squealing at how tooth-rottingly fluffy this one would be 🙈🙈

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

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For years, you’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit, helping out by designing their costumes and fighting at their side. After coming back from the blip and getting the news that many of your friends were gone, you decided to fully go into the designing side of helping out all heroes. You’ve made countless garments and weapons of all shapes, sizes and materials.

So while you still keep up with your training, these days you consider yourself more of a sewist and tinkerer than anything else. You mainly hang out with Sam, who introduced you to Isaiah Bradley, one of the few super soldiers still alive from back in the day. He’s let you claim one of the empty offices of his gym as your workspace. You like working there while there’s background noise, be it music or other people training in the ring or with the equipment.

In exchange for using the gym as your base of operation of sorts, you help Sam take care of Isaiah by taking walks with him and making sure he’s eating properly. He may not be physically frail for his age, given the serum, but he’s as stubborn as he’s strong. Since he’s gotten a bit of a soft spot for you over time, you try your best to keep him busy and content.

One day, Sam comes in with someone new. From where you sit in your office, which has a window to the main training area, you see your friend approach with someone you don’t know, so you get up and approach them. Immediately you come to the realisation that this new guy is extremely handsome and charming.

“This is Joaquín,” Sam introduces him.

“Joaquín Torres, Air Force Captain,” he says, stretching out his hand to you. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And this is Sketch,” Sam continues, pointing to you.

“Sketch?” Joaquín asks with a slight tilt of his head. You chuckle and tell him your name, shaking his hand.

“That’s just what Sam calls me,” you explain with a smile.

“Yeah, well, you’re sketching in your book all the time,” he says and elbows your side playfully, then turns back to Joaquín to tell him how you’ve helped design most of the outfits everyone has worn over the years, including his new Captain America suit.

“That’s impressive,” Joaquín says with raised brows and looks at you. A slight heat erupts on your face at the earnest look in his eyes. “Sam was so kind to let me have his old Falcon suit. You think I could run some ideas by you?”

“Of course,” you offer, pointing to your office. “Come by any time.”

From that day on, Joaquín drops by the gym several times a week, with or without Sam. He mainly uses the time to train with Isaiah, but he also enjoys visiting you and watching you work, chatting about anything and everything while you sew away.

One morning he comes in to train, and from where you sit at your desk, you can see Joaquín at one of the treadmills. Despite your best efforts, your eyes keep drifting to his figure doing some cardio, with his back to you. At one point he changes to another machine, where he pulls a bar up and down, with the weights lifting and sinking behind him, sitting so that he’s facing your office. Again, you find your gaze drifting to the window instead of focusing on the work on your desk. Risking taking a proper look, you lift your eyes and look to the side. To your surprise and shock, you find him looking at you as well. Both of you are quick to avert your eyes, cheeks prickling with heat.

That afternoon, you come out of the office to take some measurements. Sam puts on a mock-up of his new suit you’ve made, and you diligently measure everything, taking notes in your sketchbook that you use for designing. Joaquín stands next to you, arms crossed over his chest, following your movements curiously. As you finish measuring Sam’s arm in different positions, you turn back to your book, using some piled up boxes as a table, and jot down the numbers.

“Do you have all designs in there?” Joaquín asks, pointing to your sketchbook. You pause momentarily, caught off-guard by the question, then you turn to him.

“I mean, not all of them,” you explain. “There’s probably at least forty more books, all with previous iterations and ideas for everyone’s suits and gear.”

“Wow,” he says, looking at Sam and giving an impressed nod. But then he turns back to you with a mischievous smile, and Sam rolls his eyes, knowing what he’s going to ask. “Do you also have sketches of Ant-Man’s suit?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, then look over to Sam. He merely shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Unfortunately no. It wasn’t me who designed his suit,” you say, and Joaquín looks a bit disappointed at that. Now it’s your turn to look at him with a glint in your eyes. “That’s oddly specific. Don’t tell me, you’re a fan?”

“Of course I am,” Joaquín retorts, and Sam laughs, giving him a pat on his shoulder.

“I’m still not introducing you,” he says, and Joaquín pouts.

You laugh as well, then clasp your hands together, giving your sketchbook one last look.

“Okay, Sam, you’re all done, now it’s your turn.” You turn to Joaquín, who’s looking at you expectantly. “Your suit is in my office, there’s a changing room, you can go put it on there.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, starting towards the office, turning to Sam as he walks backwards. “You’re gonna love this.”

Sam looks at you with confusion and suspicion.

“Just wait and see,” is all you give him.

A couple minutes later, Joaquín comes out of the office donning his Falcon suit. Sam looks him up and down, recognising the design.

“Is that…”

“Yep,” Joaquín says with outstretched arms to show off his new look, doing a twirl.

“The new colour was his idea,” you say, walking all around Joaquín to check if the suit sits properly. You come to a short stop when next to him, and lift your eyes to meet his. “And I think green really suits him.”

As you continue checking him over, you miss the knowing look that Joaquín and Sam exchange.

“Oh, this doesn’t look quite right,” you say, noticing how there seems to be extra fabric at his waist, instead of sitting flush. You grab your fabric marker, drawing some lines where you’ll need to take in the sides. Only when you’re done do you realise how close to Joaquín you’ve been standing, and how his gaze is cast to the side, a flustered look on his face. You’re quick to take a step back, thinking you might have made him uncomfortable.

“So, how does it feel? Any pinching? Can you move properly?” you ask him, perhaps a little too quickly in an attempt to change the subject, and he starts moving his limbs in all possible angles, trying out the suit. “If there’s anything at all, please let me know.”

You pick up your sketchbook to take some notes as he continues trying out the range of motion.

“Nope,” Joaquín finally says, coming to a halt, and his smile makes your heart hiccup. “It’s perfect, really.”

You look away, feeling the heat prickling at your cheeks, and the look Sam is giving you is certainly not helping.

“Well if there’s anything at all, or any ideas you might have later, feel free to add them to the sketchbook,” you say, showing him the page where the Falcon suit design is. “Even if I’m not around, there’s post-it notes in my office. Feel free to write down any ideas you might have.”

“Will do,” Joaquín says.

“Alright, we’re done then. Thanks to you both,” you say, turning to Sam and then to Joaquín. They both nod in acknowledgement, and you walk back to your office with Joaquín to drop off your sketchbook and materials, leaving it all on your already cluttered desk.

You walk out again so that Joaquín can change in peace, and you see Sam get his phone of his pocket. He reads a text and announces he has to go, so you accompany him outside for a moment to see him off.

When Joaquín comes back out from changing, he finds the two of you gone. Since he’s still holding the suit, he leaves it on the bench in your office, where there’s piles of fabric and other materials. He lets his eyes roam over the space, strangely endeared by how much it contrasts with the rest of the gym. This corner really feels lived in, he concludes. There’s hints of you everywhere.

He scans the desk next, seeing little figurines, varying from various animals to faceless wooden people, probably used to design the suits. There’s also several bobbins with coloured thread, post-it notes all over, and the sketchbook.

A thought occurrs to him of a change for his suit that he wanted to ask about earlier, but then promptly forgot when you ended up so close to him. Since you offered earlier for him to write down his ideas, he decides to do that before he forgets again. Without really looking, he grabs the sketchbook and opens it, his other hand going for the post-it notes and a pen. However his movements come to a sudden stop when his eyes land on the open book. He flips to the next page and realises that is is not your sketchbook. Well, it is, but not the one he meant.

Joaquín quickly shoots another look to the desk below, only now seeing the other sketchbook peeking out from underneath some other materials which you had used earlier when he was trying on the suit. He knows he shouldn’t snoop, but when his eyes land back on the drawings in his hands, he can’t look away.

This seems to be your personal sketchbook, full of ink and pencil sketches of different daily objects, landscapes, the gym. He recognises the ducks in a pond to be the park nearby, there’s a couple of sketches of Isaiah, Sam, and then him. Joaquín’s heart flutters as he flips another page. Him again. His mind is screaming that he’s very much intruding in your privacy right now by looking at all of these, but he just can’t stop himself, as he finds that the more pages he flips through, there’s fewer and fewer landscapes and animals and almost every sketch is of him. From the back, pulling weights, smiling, laughing, focused while reading something. The strokes around his face start out a little unsure, a bit squiggly even, like they were drawn in a rush. But with every new sketch, your hand seems to have grown more and more sure, flowing over the page until you knew the shapes by heart, his eyes, the curve of his nose, where each and every mole and freckle sat on his skin. He swallows thickly as he flips one more page, his eyes landing for merely a split second on an unfinished sketch of him from behind with no shirt on, the contours of his nape and shoulders marked over again repeatedly, the lower half only sketched out softly, like you hadn’t had a chance to–

Joaquín looks up at the sound that leaves your throat, something between a shriek and a horrified gasp. You’ve appeared in your office again, but he didn’t hear you approach at all. Your eyes dart between the book in his hands and his face, your own beyond flustered as you realise what he just saw. With quick steps, you shorten the distance and snatch the book from his hands, snapping it closed with a forceful thud. He opens his mouth to apoligise profusely, but you’re quicker.

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” Your voice is squeaky, and the embarrassment and shock on your face shift to something closer to anger. “What were you doing?”

“I swear I didn't mean to snoop!” Joaquín says, raising his hands in defence, then points to his suit still on the bench as he rambles. “Sam and you were gone and I wanted to check the notes on the suit again, but I guess I grabbed the wrong sketchbook, and I’m so sorry, I swear it was an accident.”

You groan, your anger dissipating and making room for the earlier emotions again, and you lift your closed sketchbook to cover your face, shoulders tense as you hide behind it.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a creep or something” you say in a small voice, and he chuckles. That’s not the reaction you expected, so you open your eyes and peek over the book to look at him. An adorable blush starts dusting his cheeks.

“Of course not,” he says softly, fidgeting with some clutter on your desk before bringing his eyes to meet yours. You hide behind the book again. “I’m flattered, truly. I get why Sam calls you Sketch, there’s a lot of them. They’re really good.”

There’s a pause, and your hands tighten around the book. Surely he’s just teasing you.

“You really think so?” you risk the question.

“I do,” he says. You’re still not looking at him, and you think you hear Joaquín take somewhat of a sharp breath. “You know, I’ve been stealing my own fair share of glances at you too, I just lack any artistic skill, otherwise I would–” He stops himself abruptly. You dare peek over the book again, and he looks just as flustered as you do, which you find reassuring, but doesn’t really help you calm down. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you hold his gaze this time.

“What I’m trying to say is that some of the sketches seemed a bit rushed. I wouldn't mind it if you… took your time.”

“Are you offering to model for me?” you say after a moment. His blush darkens a bit, and he nods sheepishly. You need to force yourself to breathe normally. “I’d like that,” you add in a small voice.

In that moment, Isaiah enters the gym and calls Joaquín over. He excuses himself and joins the older man while you sit down at your desk, finally letting go of your book, and find your hands trembling. Did that just happen?

After a moment of just sitting there and looking down at the book, now slightly bent from your grip, Joaquín comes back to your office, and you look up.

“Isaiah is going home, and Sam already left,” he announces, then seems to think something over. “Would you like to grab some dinner? Right now. With me, I mean. Or in a bit. Whenever you have time.”

“Let me just finish up quickly here and I’ll be right outside.” The words leave your mouth before you can even process his request.

“Okay,” he shoots you a smile so radiant that it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you hold onto the edge of your chair out of his sight, fearing you might collapse to the floor right then and there.

Without wasting a second once he’s gone, you’re quick to put everything away and place Joaquin’s suit on your desk so that it would be the first thing you work on tomorrow. You put the sketchbook with the design notes in the top drawer, and the one with your personal sketches you pack into your bag. Another wave of heat prickles at your cheeks when you hold it, thinking back to how Joaquín had seen your many drawings of him.

After you join him outside, Joaquín and you walk to a nearby restaurant, it’s small and there aren’t many people there yet as it’s still pretty early in the evening. Sam and you come here all the time, the atmosphere is cosy and the menu is really good. You guide Joaquín to one of the booths at the end and order some food, a pleasant conversation taking place while you eat.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands on the napkin and take out your sketchbook and mechanical pencil, clicking it a couple of times to get the lead out.

“Oh, right now? Okay,” he says, and leans back into his seat. “What should I do?”

You flip the pages as quickly and nonchalantly as you can magange until you land on the last sketch, and you clear your throat.

“M-maybe we’ll leave this one for another time,” you say in a small voice, flipping to the next blank page. Joaquín unsuccessfully tries to bite back a smile at the proposition. You scan the room around you. “Just, uhm, lean your head onto your hand and look to the side for now, at that picture with the flowers for example.” You point to the frame on the wall.

“Okay,” he breathes, leaning his head on a propped up elbow and lifting his gaze to it, but it flickers back to you. “Should I like, smile, or something?”

“Whichever you prefer,” you say, and start sketching on the paper. Your eyes dart up to him and then back to the page repeatedly.

After a moment, when you look up, you find him with his face still tilted like you indicated, but his eyes are on you. Your movements stop and you feel a shudder climb up your spine, but it’s not entirely unpleasant, it makes your skin tingle. You hold your pencil to the page, unable to look away from him.

“You’re supposed to look that way,” you say, gesturing to the side with your chin.

“I like this view better than the flowers, though,” he says, seemingly completely unfazed, while your face is set ablaze. You can’t think of any good comeback, so as you look back down to your sketchbook, you mumble, “Suit yourself.”

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, save for the music and background chatter, where your flustered face shifts into focus, and you work diligently to translate his handsome features onto the page. All the while, he watches you work, enjoying the different expressions you make when you get something wrong and erase it, or when you finally figure it out and confidently place stroke after stroke onto the paper. As he comes to the conclusion that he could watch you forever and never get bored of the sight, another blush spreads on his cheeks, and he has to look away for a moment.

Once you’re done, you add final details here and there, then place down your pencil and hold up your book, checking the drawing over. He drops his hand onto the table, expectantly waiting to see the finished product.

“It’s done,” you say, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, and for a moment you consider not showing him. But after he sat so still for you, how could you not? So, gathering some more courage, you quickly turn the sketchbook around, placing it into his waiting hands, and you bring your gaze down to the table while he inspects it.

“Wow,” Joaquín breathes, and warmth spreads in your chest. “This is… This is incredible.”

“You like it?” you ask, daring to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“Of course!” He looks it over once more, pink still sprinkled on his cheeks, then gives you back the book. “You’re a fantastic artist. Thank you for drawing me.”

He looks like he wants to add something else, but then decides against it. Your brows furrow slightly.

“What? What is it?” Your mind immediately goes to negative comments, like he was about to follow up with a ‘but’, saying that it didn’t even look like him, or that you brought out all his worst features and insecurities.

“How do I put this,” he says more to himself than you, propping up his elbows on the edge of the table and bringing his closed hands to his chin. It takes him a second to find the right words, and when he looks up to meet your gaze, your heart skips a beat. A warm smile starts spreading on his lips as he talks. “Compared to the ducks in the pond, I feel like you put more care and attention to detail into drawing me. Seeing myself through the eyes of someone who… You know. Someone like you. I kinda feel invincible right now.”

You can’t help but laugh heartily, not in a mocking manner, but more so in relief, as you feel exactly the same.

“Well, I’m glad I could give you a glimpse, then,” you say, and for a moment, you’re so lost in each others’ eyes, you don’t see the waiter approach.

“I hope everything was to your taste,” the guy says in a practiced customer service voice, and you both jump slightly. He starts taking your empty plates that you pushed aside. “Would you like to ordersome dessert?”

Joaquín and you decide to share some ice cream, and once you’re done, he pays for the meal despite your protests, insisting that it was him who invited you to dinner after all, and you walk back to his car.

“I’ll make sure to have your suit done first thing tomorrow,” you promise when you arrive, and your hand reaches out to open the door, but he takes it in his instead, interlocking your fingers, and you turn toward him with big eyes.

“I may not be an artist,” he says seemingly out of nowhere, stepping closer while still giving you enough space to back off if you wanted to. “But I can give you a glimpse of how I see you in other ways.”

Your brain short circuits for a second, taken completely off-guard by his comment. His other hand comes up to your face, softly brushing his knuckles over your cheek, which surely feels much too hot to the touch. You’re now somewhat trapped between Joaquín and the car, while he’s still making sure you can step aside, but you have no intention of doing that. So your own hands come up, trembling a bit, and you place them on this chest. He takes that as a sign to get even closer, and you can feel his racing heart through his shirt, matching your own erratic heartbeat.

“For example?” you demand, but your voice is so weak, you're not entirely sure if he heard you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and his hand fully cups your cheek. “I’ll admit I've been wanting to for a while now.”

Unable to produce a single word, you merely nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he leans in. It’s still pretty early and there could be people walking by and see you, but you don’t care. Once his lips are on yours, the whole world around you disappears. You’re glad the car holds part of your weight and you can partially lean onto it, since your legs seem close to give out underneath you. The hand on your face cradles the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. Joaquín kisses you slowly, tenderly. He gingerly takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a slight tug, and he swallows the shaky breath that escapes you, his mouth on yours again.

The kiss lasts forever and not nearly long enough at the same time, and when he pulls back, you blink a couple of times, looking up him.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say, and he chuckles, backing off you so you can stand properly again. He opens the door for you and you take a seat, still unable to form a single coherent thought.

Joaquín walks around the front of the car and climbs in as well, turning on the navigation system.

“Where to?” he asks, and when he turns to look at you, waiting for you to tell him you address, you grab the collar of his bomber jacket, pulling him close to you once more to give him another kiss. But before he can fully melt into it, you let him go, and quickly sit back.

“Sorry, oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, and he chuckles again. He gently pries your fingers away so you look at him, and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing your hand to his face and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

The way his eyes glisten in the dark, only illuminated by the street light outside the car, sends an explosion of butterflies straight through your gut and you have to look away. To distract yourself from the erratic pace your heart is beating at, you bring your attention to the console and enter your address, starting the navigator. Joaquín starts the car and you take off.

“Will you come back by the gym again tomorrow?” you ask after a while.

“If it were up to me, I’d be there every day,” he says, and you feel even more heat spread on your face, if that’s even possible. “I’ll try my best to come by, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Maybe you can finish that one sketch of yours,” he says with a smug grin, and you playfully hit his shoulder with an embarrassed groan as you remember the drawing of his bare back you had started on a whim but couldn't bring yourself to finish.

As Joaquín drives you home and you sneak another looks at his side profile, you realise that at this rate you'll need a new sketchbook, dedicated entirely to him.

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