#captian america

[headcanonforthought]

Avengers headcanon thing?

Steve & Bucky were f'ing back in the day, and start up again once Bucky isn't brainwashed anymore. But, they think its FUCKING hilarious to pretend to be closeted to the other Avengers. Because they come from a traditional and conservative time they play into it, Steve says shit like, "Marriage ya know, it's just for men and women"

Bucky comments on gay people in the media with a, "WOW, can't believe they're showing that stuff on TV now.... wouldn't have flown in my day."

And the Avengers are torn between calling them homophobic and giving them grace because they ARE old-ass men suddenly in 2018. But Steve and Bucky just keep trolling them by falling all over each other, Steve brushed Bucky's hair while he moans, and they lick popsicles together and pull off the greatest mind fuck in history for like four years before giving up the ghost and making out in the AVnegers tower in front of everyone because why not.

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[marvelilovebucky]

He just woke up after being the Winter Soldier, a version of him that he HATES, and trying to kill everyone in sight… and THE first thing he does is say “your mom” and bully Steve for being small

And people wonder Bucky Barnes is my favorite character

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[pixiexdusts-world]

Wings of rest

Joaquin Torres x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Joaquin returns home injured, and his girlfriend tends to him. They cuddle and kiss, bringing him comfort as he finally rests.

Word count: 644

Notes: no Captain America: Brave New World spoilers :)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Joaquin Torres groaned as he landed on the rooftop, his wings retracting with a soft metallic hum. His ribs ached, his muscles burned, and he knew tomorrow would be worse. The mission had been a success—barely—but right now, he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about making it through the front door of his apartment without collapsing.

He didn’t have to, though. You were already there, waiting.

The moment he stepped inside, you were on him, your hands on his face, your eyes scanning every inch of him with worry. “You’re hurt,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over a bruise forming along his jaw.

“I’ll live,” he muttered, though he swayed on his feet.

You didn’t believe him. You never did.

“Sit,” you ordered, guiding him toward the couch. He didn’t argue, mostly because he was too tired to.

He let his head fall back against the cushions, exhaling sharply as you disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water and clinking bottles followed, and when you returned, you knelt in front of him, a damp washcloth in hand.

“This is gonna sting,” you warned.

“Everything already stings,” he joked, but it turned into a hiss when you dabbed at a cut on his temple.

You rolled your eyes. “Then stop getting hit in the face.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“So is coming home to me in one piece.”

He cracked a smile, but it faded as you continued your careful work. The warmth of your touch, the way you bit your lip in concentration—he felt it all, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

Once you were satisfied, you set the washcloth aside and cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Better?”

Joaquin sighed, leaning into your touch. “Much.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead before standing. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He let you pull him up, let you guide him to your room, let himself melt into the comfort of your presence. Because out there, he was the Falcon—fast, strong, untouchable. But here, with you?

Here, he could rest.

You helped him out of his gear, your fingers careful and patient as you unfastened the straps and peeled away the layers of his suit. Once he was down to just his sweatpants, you tugged him onto the bed, slipping under the covers beside him.

Joaquin sighed as you curled into his side, your warmth immediately easing the soreness in his body. He pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head while your fingers traced lazy circles on his bare chest.

“You scared me tonight,” you admitted softly.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond right away, just pressed a kiss to his shoulder before shifting up to look at him. Your eyes were soft, filled with something deeper than worry—something that made his heart ache in the best way.

“I just need you to come home,” you whispered.

Joaquin lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I always will.”

You closed the small space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow and deep, like you were trying to remind yourself he was here, real and safe in your arms. He kissed you back just as tenderly, savoring the warmth, the softness, the quiet reassurance that no matter how hard things got, this—you—were always waiting for him.

When you finally pulled away, you nestled back into his chest, and Joaquin held you close, his lips resting against your forehead.

“Get some sleep, cariño,” you murmured.

He smiled, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “Only if you stay right here.”

And with you in his arms, he finally let himself drift off, knowing that for tonight, he was exactly where he belonged.

[purehypnotic]

•.¸♡ 𝑫𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ♡¸.•

𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

🖤𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀.𝐌., 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩.

🖤𝐎𝐧 ��𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩.

🖤𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞-𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭. 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. "𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬" 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭.

🖤𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

🖤𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞'𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. "𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭" 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐦𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆, 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒉𝒉.

𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒂'𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 - 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆💋

[marvelsgirl616]

New TFATWS Bloopers

[cece693]

PART 2 OF THE BUCKYxLOKI’S BROTHER PLEASE!! (And thank you)

He's Cute Pt. 2

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: date night, cute moments between bucky and reader, protective bucky, reader having eyes only for his man, couldn't help myself so we have some jealous bucky

The morning sun cast a warm glow on the bustling New York street as you and Bucky left the Avengers Tower, side by side, for your much-anticipated coffee date. You could practically feel Bucky’s heartbeat thrumming—his energy was a mix of nerves and excitement, hidden behind a carefully maintained cool exterior.

Still, you caught the way he’d sneak glances at you, how he kept a polite but protective distance between you and the street, and how his hand hovered near the small of your back whenever you paused to look in a shop window. If there was one thing you’d learned about James “Bucky” Barnes, it was that beneath the stoic shell, he was a sweet, attentive soul.

When you reached the little coffee shop a few blocks away, the sweet aroma of espresso and baked goods made you inhale appreciatively. Bucky let you step in first, his eyes still straying to you while you gawked at the menu board.

“Wow,” you murmured, half to yourself. “So many options. Mocha latte, flat white, salted caramel… Are these incantations?”

Bucky suppressed a grin, remembering the first time you’d asked that. “No magic, promise,” he said, nudging your shoulder gently. “What are you in the mood for?”

Before you could answer, the barista—a cheerful guy in his mid-twenties with a neat man-bun and bright green apron—leaned over the counter, practically beaming at you. “Hey there! First time, huh? Don’t worry, I can help you pick the perfect drink,” he offered, sliding an elbow onto the counter in a move that was definitely meant to come off as suave.

You blinked, oblivious to the barista’s flirty smile. “That’s kind of you,” you said politely. “I’ve only tried a couple coffees so far.”

“Awesome,” the barista replied, eyes dancing with interest. “You should let me whip up a custom latte just for you. Something sweet, with a little extra foam on top, maybe a heart design…”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping forward so that his broad shoulder was just enough in the barista’s line of sight to cut off the direct gaze. “He’ll have a caramel macchiato,” Bucky said firmly, voice low in a way that suggested the barista hurry it up. “And I’ll take a black coffee.”

The barista’s smile faltered, eyeing Bucky with a mix of confusion and polite fear. “Sure thing.”

As the barista fiddled with the espresso machine, you turned to Bucky, eyes sparkling. “I didn’t realize there were so many specialized drinks. Custom lattes?”

Bucky’s jaw unclenched, and he mustered a small, reassuring smile for you. “Yeah, they get creative. But trust me, you’ll like the macchiato.”

Once you two collected your drinks, you picked out a cozy table near the window. The morning light bathed you in a soft glow that made your hair look…well, downright ethereal, if Bucky were being honest. And from the corner of his eye, he noticed more than one patron shooting glances your way.

You sipped your caramel macchiato, eyes lighting up at the sweet, creamy flavor. “This is wonderful!”

Bucky felt a surge of pride, as if he’d personally crafted the drink. “Glad you like it,” he said, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his fingers across your knuckles. Before the conversation could deepen, another interruption arrived—this time a fellow customer who lingered by the pastry display, giving you a once-over before sauntering over.

“Good morning,” she said, flipping her hair with a practiced flourish. “I haven't seen you here before."

You, perpetually polite, offered a friendly nod. “Yes, I’m new to Midg—New York. It’s very different from home.”

She giggled, eyes trailing over your features. “Well, if you need a local guide, I live right around the corner.” She lowered her voice, leaning in conspiratorially, “And I know all the best spots.”

Your eyebrows lifted in genuine curiosity. “Really? That sounds interesting.”

Bucky’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until his knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat, but she didn’t budge—she seemed more than happy to ignore him entirely, focusing on you like a hawk. “Yeah,” she continued. “I could show you a real good time. How about—”

“He’s good,” Bucky cut in, voice dangerously soft. He stared her down, his intense blue eyes flicking to her face with a distinct warning.

She blinked, finally noticing the murderously protective glint in his gaze. “Oh—are you two…?”

“Yes,” Bucky said bluntly, not even letting the question hang.

You, still oblivious, looked between them. “We’re on a date,” you added helpfully, as though trying to clarify.

The woman looked between you, Bucky, and his metal arm resting on the table. An awkward laugh escaped her. “My mistake. Enjoy your coffee.” She walked off, adjusting her purse with forced nonchalance.

As soon as she was gone, you turned back to Bucky, your expression perplexed. “She was hitting on me, right? Is that like a phrase, ‘hitting on someone?’ Because you said—”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirmed, irritation still simmering just behind his calm veneer. “She was.”

“Oh,” you murmured, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, that’s not a problem, is it? I mean, people here are friendly…”

Bucky exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He reached across the table, lightly brushing the back of your hand. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he said softly. “Just...it gets on my nerves when strangers try to pick you up right in front of me.”

Understanding dawned on you, and your eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, giving a dismissive little shrug. “Not your fault at all. I just…might have a jealous streak, I guess.”

A warm smile curved your lips. “That’s kind of sweet. In a protective way.”

Your words made him relax, and he actually managed a genuine, sheepish grin. “Glad you think so.”

With the interlopers gone, you and Bucky finally got some quieter moments. You asked him about the differences between the 1940s and modern times—he gave you quick anecdotes about old radio shows, dime coffees, and awkward attempts to use smartphones now. In return, you regaled him with tales of Asgard—though you stuck to the less epic parts, not wanting to overshadow the mundane joy of a simple coffee date.

Sometimes Bucky would reach out and tap the rim of your cup with his vibranium fingers, almost like he wanted an excuse to brush against your hand. More than once, your gentle laughter made him forget the rest of the café altogether. That is, until your phone chimed with a text—a reminder from Tony about some meeting in a couple of hours.

“Guess we need to head back soon?” Bucky asked, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.

You nodded regretfully, finishing the last sweet sip of your drink. “Seems so. We can’t exactly ditch the meeting, can we? Tony would… he’d probably show up here with an Iron Man suit,” you joked.

Bucky gave a small smirk. “He’s petty like that.”

With some reluctance, you both stood, disposing of your cups and stepping out into the warm late-morning air. The short walk back to Avengers Tower was surprisingly pleasant, even with the occasional sideways glances from passersby who recognized one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Bucky kept close to you, occasionally brushing his shoulder against yours, as if to remind everyone this is my date.

The moment you stepped through the Tower doors, though, you found yourselves ambushed by the rest of the team loitering in the lobby—clearly waiting. Tony, arms crossed over his chest, grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha stood behind him in a loose huddle, each wearing various degrees of curiosity and mischief.

“Would you look at that,” Tony drawled, “our resident star-crossed duo has returned.”

Sam smirked. “Didn’t think a simple coffee run would take this long. Or is that code for something else?”

Clint raised an eyebrow suggestively. “‘Coffee run?’ That’s a new one.”

Bucky glowered at them, ears turning pink. “It was just coffee. And we walked.”

“Walked,” Tony echoed, lips twisting in an exaggerated pout. “Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

You, still glowing from the morning’s events, decided to speak up. “There was coffee, yes, and a few people...tried to start a conversation.”

Natasha picked up on your hint of confusion. “Tried to start a conversation? That’s a polite way of saying they were hitting on you in front of Bucky?”

You nodded earnestly, unwittingly dropping the bomb the team was waiting for. “Yes, actually! Twice, in fact. Bucky was not pleased.”

A collective gasp and a few stifled laughs rippled through the group. Sam hooted, patting Bucky’s shoulder. “Oh man, did you go all Winter Soldier on them? Metal arm intimidation?”

Bucky shrugged off Sam’s hand, trying to maintain dignity. “I just told them to buzz off. That’s all.”

Tony snickered. “I can see it now: ‘Move along, buddy, or you’ll be meeting Mr. Vibranium.’”

Steve, at least, tried to look sympathetic. “Glad it went okay, though. The date, I mean.”

“It was nice,” you said, the corners of your mouth lifting in a sincere smile. “Very…sweet.” You turned to Bucky, stepping closer. “Thank you for showing me more of Midgard’s culture.”

Before Bucky could form a reply, you leaned in and planted a quick, affectionate kiss on his cheek. The lobby erupted in whoops and cackles. Sam feigned swooning against Clint, who patted his forehead dramatically. Tony cupped a hand to his ear as though straining to hear wedding bells. Bucky froze, eyes going wide, heat rushing to his face. But the grin that broke out was nothing short of radiant.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” Tony teased, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Looks like we’re gonna have to start calling you guys ‘Sugar and Spice.’”

Clint made an exaggerated smooching sound. “Or do we call you both ‘Buzz Off!’ and ‘He’s Mine!’”

Bucky grumbled something incoherent, but he still looked over at you with soft eyes that said he didn’t regret a thing.

[buckybuckyboo]

The meeting

Word count: 504

Summary: The boys wanna make you remember everything about last night.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Dirty talk. Memories of the night before. Threesome

A/N: I DO NOT give permissions to post or translate my fics. All mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Feedback is always welcome <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were running late for the meeting and you slipped in quietly while Tony was talking earning you a stern look from him. You mouthed sorry to him and took your seat between Steve and Bucky. Both of them turning to you and smiling.

Once you had settled into your seat, Steve leaned over whispering into your ear. To anyone else in the room it looked like he was just telling you what you had missed from the beginning of the meeting, but it wasn't.

"I had a lot of fun last night sweetheart"

Your breath catching in your throat as Steve sat back in his chair smiling. Trying to focus on what the meeting was about, clearing your throat and sitting up straight. Then Bucky leans over.

"I hope you're feeling good baby girl. I can't wait to taste you again later"

You can feel your cheeks getting hot and turning red, remembering how Bucky's tounge felt moving through your folds. Steve leans in again as Bucky rests back into his seat and writing something down in his little notebook.

"Are you alright sweetheart? I can hear your heartbeat"

Damn him and his super solider serum.

"You know" he whispers "I can't stop thinking about those pretty lips around my cock"

It makes you clear your throat again. Tony gives you a questionable look while Bucky grabs your glass of water and handing it to you. Taking a sip and leaving it back down on the table in front of you.

Trying to focus back on the meeting but your thoughts can't stop going back to being with Bucky and Steve. Riding Bucky's fingers as you suck on Steve's cock. Watching his face as you moan around him.

"Just like that Angel, your mouth feels so good"

Nothing about this was rushed. They wanted to take their time with you. They were super solders. they had no problem waking in the morning for the meeting but as for you, you could have done with a few more hours of sleep.

Bucky leans over again and whispers.

"Are you thinking about it baby girl? Cause I can't stop thinking about your tight pussy wrapped around my cock. Fuck the noises you made when I was balls deep inside you. Squeezing me so tight I almost blew my load there and then"

Your breath hitches in your throat remembering how deep his cock was inside you. You hear both of them chuckle softly. It's a little while before Steve leans over again whispering in your ear.

"I can smell you sweetie. Your panties are so wet from thinking about us isn't it.. I'd love to lay you out in front of everyone and fuck you like I did last night. Show everybody here that you are ours"

Did he really say that? Ours? I'm their girl?

"Y/N? Y/N!"

Hearing your name shouted made you jump.

"I'm sorry Y/N, am I boring you?"

"No- No Mr. Stark. I'm sorry it won't happen again"

[loversrocktvgirl2]

my mini multiverse of madness…

That’s My Girl (Steve Rodgers x Reader Drabble) 

The Avengers were playing around at Tony’s party, each of them trying to pick up Thor’s hammer. The competition had begun when Clint had questioned the integrity of the whole “you can only lift the hammer if you are worthy” thing, and Thor challenged him to try to lift it up himself. After his failure, he invited Tony to try. Tony gave his best attempt before grabbing his Iron Man hand. Soon, he’d recruited Rhodey with his War Machine hand, and the two of them pulled on the handle and still failed to pick up the hammer. Bruce was invited to try, and he got so frustrated that he forced himself to stop. 

Steve rolled up his sleeves and wrapped his hands around the handle, then pulled with all of his might. But even he couldn’t pick it up. 

You felt tired, and so you weren’t participating, about to head upstairs to go to bed. You walked by to say goodnight, though. “Hey, y’all, I’m going to bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said with a soft smile as you walked by them. Your leg hit the hammer and knocked it down. You bent over, picked it up easily, and handed it back to Thor. “Sorry about that,” you said casually, then walked away upstairs, letting out a small yawn of exhaustion.

The Avengers stared at you, shocked. Steve just grinned. “That’s my girl!”

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Steve (and friends) + text posts pt. 15/?

Bonus:

[10ava01]

Just this once

Joaquin Torres x F reader

Summary: One heated moment leads you to confessing your feelings.

Masterlist

The one person that has been a constant in your life is Joaquin Torres.

He was always there. When you scraped your knee at seven, helping you up rather than laughing at you like your older brother did. He didn’t tease you either, just helped you with a grin on his face. He was there when you turned thirteen, ruffling your hair and laughing as you scowled because you wanted to be treated like a grown-up and not some child that you surely were in his eyes. He was there, always been there—your brother’s best friend and your neighbor, to your luck.

And somehow along the way, you fell for him. Of course, you did. He could charm anyone with that smile and his accent that sometimes slipped. Yup, you fell hard for him.

You didn’t know exactly when your crush on him started, maybe when you were fourteen and that summer. He was sixteen, taller, charming as always, and every other girl like you had swooned over him. You couldn’t blame them because you had done the same thing, but still, the jealous feeling didn’t go away when they flashed smiles and flirty comments.

You had watched him from your bedroom window like a creep, how he played soccer with your brother and his friends. But your eyes only followed him, how his shirt was clinging to his back with sweat, his face glowing from all the running, and how his curly hair was sticking to his forehead. All you could hear was his laughter drifting through the air, and your silly little crush turned into something deeper.

But it didn’t matter. You told yourself that it wouldn’t matter.

Because he was older, and boys that look like him don’t look at younger girls like you.

At least, that’s what you told your poor heart, just to push that feeling away.

But there were so many moments that made you question everything and become hopeful.

Like when he would walk you home after school, even though your asshole brother had already left with his friends because he’s too cool for you and can’t be seen with a child. That’s what he tells you.

Or when his hand would linger on your back just a second too long as he guided you through a crowd. You lived for those touches.

Or when he would call you princesa. Sure, his teasing tone made it clear that there wasn’t any meaning behind it, but you hoped deep down that he only called you that.

And hope, you did.

But hope was dangerous.

Hope made you believe that maybe, when you were older, when the two goddamn years age gap didn’t feel so wide, he would finally see you the way you wanted to be seen. The way you saw him.

But your daydreams always shattered the moment you watched him with other girls—the ones who threw themselves at him, the ones he would flirt with so easily, so effortlessly. All you could do was watch. He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, not that you had any admirers like him anyway. Maybe everything would have been a little easier if you had anyone interested in you rather than being the one admiring.

You just buried your feelings deep inside you and accepted the hurt feelings. Because what can you do other than hoping?

You smile when he teased you. Laugh when he joked. Pretend it didn’t break you when he talked about dates, about parties, about other girls to your brother while you were present.

What else could you do besides listen? At least it brought you back to reality and the sad truth.

But now, with graduation creeping closer, with Joaquin about to leave high school behind and leave you behind, something inside you aches.

You don’t want to lose him, of course you don’t, even if it would be good for you. Your house is now packed with people—everyone that you know and not part of it. Music thumps through the walls, laughter spills from everywhere. The air is thick with alcohol and sweat and the electric buzz of a night that means something to everyone here but nothing to you.

Graduation is just days away, so your brother and his friends are celebrating the end of high school, the start of something new.

For them, it’s a celebration. For you, it’s a goodbye.

You’re just here because—well, it’s your house, obviously. Your idea is to hide in your room till everything calms down, but the music is too loud to do anything, and locking yourself away is just pathetic.

So the best you can do now is party, and so you invite Theo.

Theo, your best friend, and the only person who makes you laugh without trying, who listens when you talk about your books and ramble when no one seems to care.

Them, who—apparently—Joaquin hates.

You don’t notice anything at first.

You are too busy laughing, too busy enjoying yourself since forever. But then you catch it—the way Joaquin’s eyes practically bury holes in your head, his jaw tight from across the room, fingers clenching around a beer bottle like he’s resisting the urge to throw it.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Why is he acting this way? Shouldn’t he be having the time of his life? Finally leaving this place and leaving you behind? He wouldn’t have to take care of you because your asshole brother can’t do it? So why is he acting possessive?

He’s had girls on his lap all night long, letting them drape themselves over him like he belongs to them. Touching them like he is leaving a mark on his territory. But suddenly, when you are having a good time with someone other than him, it’s too much?

You ignore him. That’s the best idea you can come up with, and you try your hardest not to let your eyes fall on him.

But then the devil himself walks up to you. Towering over you and so damn close that you can almost feel him.

Almost.

“You having fun, princesa?”

You freeze at the sound of his voice. Sure, even now he’s teasing you, but there’s an edge to his tone.

You force yourself to smile and look at him. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His eyes flick to Theo—who suddenly looks a little uncomfortable—and then back to you.

“No reason,” he says, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

And then, as if to prove some kind of point, he reaches out, fingers brushing the strap of your dress, adjusting it like he has every right to. Like it’s his to fix.

Your skin burns where he touches you.

Leo clears his throat. “I, uh—I’m gonna grab another drink.”

You barely hear him, your focus is on Joaquin. Your heart is pounding, breath shallow, and Joaquin is standing right there, enjoying himself. His hand lingering on your shoulder like it belongs there.

You step back. “What the hell is your problem?”

His smirk widens.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like a jealous ass—”

“You think I’m jealous?” He chuckles, tilting his head. “That’s cute.”

You glare at him, heat rushing to your face. “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you—like you care. Like you have any right to be mad about who I talk to.”

Something flickers in his eyes. He leans in, voice so low for only you to hear.

“Who says I don’t?”

Your breath catches in your throat. For a second, you swear he’s about to—

But someone then calls his name from across the room, and just like that, the little moment you were finally having has been shattered.

You storm outside, trying to breathe and make sense of any of this. His words are repeating in your head over and over again.

Who says I don’t?

Just when you’re about to step inside and find Theo, you hear one of your brother’s friends—tipsy and way too honest—blurt it out without thinking. Probably having witnessed the little show between you and Joaquin.

“No one ever asked you out because of the rule.”

You turn around and frown. “What rule?”

“The one Joaquin made. Said no one could date you unless they wanted to deal with him.”

Your stomach drops. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. “Nah. Everyone knows. Your brother doesn’t even care, but Joaquin—yeah, he made sure you were off limits.”

Something inside you rises.

You thought you weren’t enough for him. You thought that the reason he never made a move on you is because he never wanted you, just used you for pastime. That his flirting and teasing was only a cruel joke, just to make fun of you.

But the truth is so much worse.

Because he does want you and made sure no one else could have you.

Your eyes start to search for him in the crowd. After searching every room, you find him upstairs, leaning against your brother’s doorframe, looking at you too smug for someone who’s about to get his ass handed to him.

He smirks when he sees you. “Finally worked up the courage, princesa?”

Your anger takes over you before you can make sense of his words.

You slap him.

The sound echoes through the hallway, sharp and satisfying, and Joaquin actually looks stunned for the first time in his life.

Good, you think.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your voice shakes with anger. “You—You made a rule? You decided no one else could have me, but you didn’t want me either? What kind of possessive bullshit—”

His jaw clenches. “You think I didn’t want you?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I know you didn’t. You made that pretty clear.”

Joaquin curses under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Jesus, you really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“That I couldn’t have you.” His voice is raw now, no teasing, no smug arrogance. Just frustration. “That your brother would’ve killed me if I did anything. That I spent years wanting you and knowing I couldn’t fucking touch you.”

You open your mouth, but he steps closer, cutting you off. Whatever you were about to say is long forgotten by now.

“You think I set that rule up because I didn’t want you?” His voice drops, low and rough. “I did it because I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else getting to have you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

His hands come up, framing your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones.

His touch is careful, like he is afraid you might pull away from him.

But you don’t.

Because now—finally—you have him to yourself.

You see it in his eyes, in the way he looks at you like he’s been starving for years to have you, and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him.

And then finally, he kisses you. His hands are warm, rough, familiar. They hold you like he’s still afraid to lose you anytime soon. But there’s nothing fragile about the way you kiss him back—nothing about your kiss is innocent. Your hands fist his shirt, pulling him closer than he already is.

Joaquin groans against your lips, pressing you back until your spine meets the door. His body is on yours, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping, pulling.

Almost like he wants to leave marks on you.

Marking you as his and only his.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps, breathing hard.

You don’t. You won’t. Not now and not ever.

Instead, you tilt your chin up, letting your lips brush against his ear.

"Don’t you dare."

That’s all it takes for him to know.

He’s on you in an instant, all heat and hunger, hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his waist immediately, your back hitting the wall with just enough force to make you gasp, and he swallows every sound you let out with another kiss—deeper this time, more desperate.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck. His teeth graze your pulse, and you shiver, nails raking down his back.

You’ve spent years dreaming about this. Wondering what it would feel like having his hands around you, what his lips would feel like against yours or on your skin.

And now—finally—you don’t have to wonder anymore.

This is so much better than your imagination.

His hands slip under your dress, fingers tracing the curve of your thighs, teasing. You arch into him, whining when he doesn’t give you what you need.

“Joaquin, please,” you breathe, rolling your hips against his.

He curses as you beg for him—the only sound he ever wanted to hear. His forehead is pressing against yours, his breath ragged.

“Say it, princesa. I wanna hear you beg.”

You don’t hesitate. “I need you. Please, please.”

The only thought on your mind is him—his scent, his lips, his fingers. If you have to beg for him to give you what you need, then you will.

A sharp inhale. A moment of stillness.

Then he is moving, carrying you towards the bed, his mouth never leaving your neck. Sucking on it and marking you permanently.

No more rules.

Just him and you.

Finally.

[marvelilovebucky]

No words needed…

[multiverseofseries]

Marvel Studios is currently announcing the cast of ‘AVENGERS: DOOMSDAY’

The names revealed:

• Chris Hemsworth

• Vanessa Kirby

• Anthony Mackie

• Sebastian Stan

• Letitia Wright

• Paul Rudd

• Wyatt Russel

• Tenoch Huerta Mejia

• Ebon Moss-Bachrach

• Simu Liu

• Florence Pugh

• Kelsey Grammer

• Lewis Pullman

• Danny Ramirez

• Joseph Quinn

• David Harbour

• Winston Duke

• Hannah John-Kamen

• Tom Hiddleston

• Ian McKellen

• Patric Stewart

• Alan Cumming

• Rebecca Romijn

• James Marsden

• Channing Tatum

• Pedro Pascal

• Robert Downey Jr

[mikeluciraphgabe]

I don’t think, as a fandom, we talk about Bucky and Steve fighting in one of the most gruesome and fucked up wars the modern world has seen enough (ontop of being raised by fathers who fought in the one before it)

While yes, they deserve and should be written as characters with PTSD because of what they do on the avengers/as the winter soldier/being placed in a whole new world without a say

We should also be writing them as characters who have fought in WWII and seen some fucking shit (Omaha beach, the bombs in Japan, people who where imprisoned at the concentration camp, their friends dying right next to them, helping out in the trenches, watching people loose a leg or arm, etc etc)

Ontop of this, bucky (in the comics and I think one of the cartoons) joined the army when he was like 17/18 years old. A fucking kid.

We should write more PTSD scenes of the two having flashbacks relating to WWII and not only the things I mentioned before

Steve is screaming and crying on the floor because Tony grabbed his arm from behind and- Buck is a fucking child and he’s stuck in the building, let go of me Sargent - let me go get my little brother before it blows and Tony is shushing him with “it’s okay hon, it’s just me”

Bucky is holding a gun up to his husband’s face because, just for a second, Sam (with a Halloween mask) looked like a gasser that killed a guy who pushed Bucky out of a window before said gas exploded on that floor and the guy died

More scenes of PTSD Bucky and Steve that goes to WWII

[purehypnotic]

🎀•¸♡ 𝑩𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ♡¸•🎀

🧸𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐮𝐩 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

🧸𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐚𝐦, 𝐝𝐮𝐬��, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 ��𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

🧸𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧, 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.

🧸𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝟎𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞🎀