#love that dramatic weirdo

[ziyechs]

@cementcornfield i read your tags on this post and was like.............. wait i remember this. so i went on a 3h youtube deepdive and lo and behold:

final thing for you two guys and i appreciate your time. i think bengals fans want to know: should we feel confident that joe and ja’marr are going to be nfl teammates for a long, long time?

— “well, i definitely want them to be together and i think ja’marr does too, you know, because i was talking to him one time and i was telling him: ‘you know, this is the nfl and this is a business also. so, you know, you might have to go find another quarterback’. and he was like: ‘no, dad, i’m staying with joe. i’m not going nowhere else.’”

[garyfiddlesticksdammit]

hey tumblr, potential blood warning here. it could pass as pie filling but for any of my folk who aren't a big fan of any potential blood!!! don't look further!!!

yea. uhh. these two... apple pie, guys...

[apricotopera]

saw a post on reddit the other day that i can’t stop thinking of that was saying that xehanort shouldn’t have gotten a redemption arc in kh3 and like 1. not a redemption arc, he just had a moment of humanity and characterization as he died, different things 2. we have been humanizing xehanort. since his first appearance. the literal first time we see xehanort original flavor is as a kid standing on the beach at destiny islands wishing he could see the world. that’s our literal first encounter with him! and our second encounter is him taking a kid who he thinks is dying to that same beach so he can die in peace! did he also kill that kid? very much so! but he has been a complicated and deeply human villain since he showed up of course as he dies his friend forgives him. of course he does.

[manasurge]

Thank you for allowing Mourynn to live out her whimsical Princely™ fantasies with Morwen!! (@commanderthalys 's pretty NMC girlie <3).

This originally spawned from some fun OC talk, but due to the timing of me finishing this during the VS art party, I'm going to pretend that it sort of applies to that too since both Mourynn and Morwen were there. It's lowkey cheating I know, but still lskjflaskf

[gemini-queen42]

also lads sorry I've been kinda dead.. ik it ain't wednesday but here's some WIPS I've got / been working on!!!

1st one is the ref for a new dnd character of mine :] funniest part w/ how much getting her fur pattern down has been a struggle for me [as u can see w/ all the mini tests.. I'm trying to do basically the same thing w/ all of them hdfjgk] is that literally no one else is going to see it besides like, the DM maybe. like she's disguised and will be introduced as disguised to the rest of party, they will NOT be seeing this ref.

2nd one is one I've posted b4, but she's a lil further along now- lighting is the main point of this piece and by fuck is it screwing w/ me lol. also I'm just.. not good/practiced w/ environments & objects so yknow.

3rd one i'm not sure I'll ever finish? it'd Ophelia as, well... Ophelia from that one painting lol.

but yea :] I also have other pieces I plan on doing that don't have sketches even yet... [Magical girl au fanart, OTH doodles... meet the artist.. tomie x batb au.. etc jhdkgd]

so yeah!

[fellator]

not to speak of how ridiculously healing it is to be in a place I'm not weird again 🙏

[kelin-is-writing]

Was about to go in my drafts to keep writing, BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT I’VE REACHED 1k FOLLOWERS??? LITERALLY WHEN??? 😭

I’m so lost I swear… You guys thank you so much???? I am truly so grateful, more than the followers I’m grateful for the love and support you guys to this day keep giving me and what I write, I didn’t really expect I would go this far with this blog since I’ve just been well… Busy being horny over Dabi, losing my shit over Dabi, fangirling over Dabi… Fantasizing about Dabi… Just… 👹 Dabi 👹

ANYWAYS!!! Thank you everyone, I sincerely love you lots and I’ll do my best to bring you all content about Dabi that will make you all lose your shit, want to tear your hair off and make you want to scream into the void 😚💜

[byanyan]

so, my dog likes to lie on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge... but he takes so much offense to getting softly bumped with the fridge door, and yet!! he'll lay there and literally watch you reach for the door, not move when you slowly start to open it, and then jump up like you've smacked him the moment it touches as much as a hair... like what did u expect!!!! i'm sorry but if it bugs u that much why are u laying there all the time!!!!!! u know what's gonna happen when u see me reach for the door!!!!

[enobariasteeth]

okay watching The Batman for the first time. I’m 5 minutes in and Bruce Wayne is so fucking dramatic I love it

[paintedskinenthusiast]

I don't think Kit enjoys scaring people, but I do think he finds convincingly faking injuries/illness/dying to be fun in a morbid thespian way (when he's not in immediate danger).

[p1llkiss]

the first note appears on your fridge.

"don't forget to eat today. or i'll cry. seriously. i'm very sensitive." it's signed with a doodle of satoru's sunglasses and a dramatic stick figure with tears.

you roll your eyes, toss it in the junk drawer, and forget about it.

but then you find another one. this time it’s on your bathroom mirror.

"you look hot today. but also brush your teeth please." there’s a tiny cartoon of you with... vampire fangs?

you groan internally, "gojo…"

it escalates fast.

within days, you’re finding sticky notes in increasingly stupid places. inside your cereal box "good morning, cereal thief 🥣^_^" on your shampoo bottle "your hair smells really good, but i promise i'm not a weirdo about it", on the ceiling above your bed "dream of me or else >:("

you confront him the next time he pops by unannounced, which is basically every day.

"why," you demand, shoving a handful of neon sticky squares at his face, "are you turning my apartment into a scrapbook?"

he feigns innocence, pushing his sunglasses up dramatically. "aw! you found them all? you’re so diligent. hot."

"i'm serious!" you sputter. "one of these was inside my shoe. shoe."

"hah- oh yeah, that one said, ‘don't step on my heart.’ cute, right?"

you threaten to throw him out. he refuses to stop.

but you start saving them.

you tell yourself it’s just because they’re funny, who wouldn’t keep a note that says "drink water or you’ll shrivel up like a sad raisin💧" next to a crude drawing of a raisin with your face?

but some start to get weirdly sweet.

"hope today’s nice for you, even if i'm not there to annoy you." or, "if you’re sad, open the freezer." (inside your freezer was a note that said, "there, now your sadness is frozen.")

then one night, you find the motherlode.

you drop your phone behind your tv stand and when you drag it out, there’s a single sticky note stuck to the back of the screen. different handwriting. rushed, messier than usual.

"if you ever get bored, piece them together."

you spend the whole next day on your floor, surrounded by neon scraps of satoru's idiocy. it's like building a conspiracy board. arrows, tape, strings of doodles.

it hits you- numbers hidden in the corner of some notes, a doodle that matches another, words that line up when you overlap them.

hours later, your living room looks like a detective’s office and you’re staring at a single final message, pieced together from a dozen random half jokes.

"hey dummy. i love you. don't throw this one out, okay?"

you sit there for a minute, cheeks burning, surrounded by all his stupid doodles, and for once, you can’t even find it in yourself to be mad about the mess.

you hear your door unlock (he made himself a spare key), he pokes his head in, grinning.

"so?" he calls out. "did you figure out my puzzle, sherlock?"

you launch a sticky note at his face. he catches it in his mouth.

"you’re an idiot," you say, heart hammering in your chest.

he crosses the room in two strides, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, and spins you around until you squeal.

"yeah," he almost purrs, burying his face in your neck, "but i'm your idiot, huh?"

on your wall, the final note stays up for good.

even satoru doesn’t dare peel that one down.

[impureserenity]

i don't hang around much in the en side of ooetwt so to find out that there was apparently an ooshizu hater hanging around was kinda crazy

[hexedwinchester]

Real Sam and Dean: terrifying motherfuckers

AU Sam and Dean: oh we made an oopsie 🤣

15x13 - Destiny’s Child

[rueclfer]

best friend katsuki who starts finding himself getting a bit too flustered around you.

it starts with a hug.

you're so fucking dramatic, he thinks.

every time you see each other, you might as well be standing in the middle of an airport with the crowd split down the middle and fireworks going off in the background.

he'd never admit it, but he loves the theatrics. he loves the click between you when you lock eyes in a crowded room. he loves your "half-run" towards him and the hop you do right before you wrap your arms around his neck.

of course you two always get odd looks, because despite being best friends since childhood, and everyone knowing it, they still can't seem to understand how a person like you can get along with a person like him.

"you're choking me," he breathlessly chuckles, "ya missed me or something?"

"something like that." you murmur, the smile apparent in your voice.

katsuki stops breathing for a moment when his fingers sink into the soft skin of your waist and his palm goes flush against your bare lower back.

why the fuck is your shirt so short?

i should move my hand.

you're so warm.

i shouldn't be thinking about this.

he doesn't say anything, and he sure as hell isn't letting go first. instead, he buries his nose deeper into the crook of your neck, hoping that he could blame the blush blooming over his cheeks on the hot summer day.

"what's wrong?" you finally pull away, one hand locked on his shoulder and the other sliding down his bicep.

"what?"

his eyes lock onto your own. he's fighting the urge to trail his eyes down your body- see how that crop top looks from the front now that he knows how it feels.

"you seem weird."

"says the weirdo." he scoffs. "m'fine."

you roll your eyes, letting your hands drop to your side.

"come get a soda with me." you almost demand, starting to walk off knowing he'd follow close behind.

no one else in the world would dare speak to katsuki the way you do. he’d never allow it, but that attitude coming from you only had his heart racing even faster.

"you paying?"

"i have you to do that for me, don't i?"

you turn your head over your shoulder, flashing him that toothy grin of yours, and that's when katsuki knew for certain.

he was fucked.

[satoblue]

“ANATOMY” — gojo satoru

you’re very interested in satoru’s overall physique, and more importantly, the things that make it glaringly obvious that he is a man. | wc: 1.4k

f!reader, established relationship (dating), you stare (hard), satoru’s adam’s apple is a warning in itself, sexual jokes so suggestive, satoru thinks you’re a perv and a weirdo (he’s the real one), mentions of cannibalism and murder, you have a question, boyfie is a menace. | dividers made by me

“weirdo.”

at the sound of satoru’s voice, you’re snapped out of your daze, cheek lifting from where you previously rested it on your palm.

“huh?”

your boyfriend leans back in his seat, folding his muscular arms over his chest — and you have to stop yourself from staring at how they strain under his dress shirt and the ceaseless movement of the sphere in his throat.

it’s so obvious and just… there. it wiggles and bobs whenever he swallows or talks, it’s hard not to notice. and it’s pointy too, almost to the point it looks painful.

part of you wants to pinch it, squeeze it — bite it. and maybe, even suck on it like a lollipop. and you know he’d let out a throaty little groan — it’s simply in his dna to.

a shiver through his body here, a tremble there — all because of the suction of your mouth and the wetness of your saliva on his skin. it’d leave a mark - red and glaring - as satoru tends to bruise easily. it would mean something — that his body belongs to you.

tossing you a suspicious look, he eyes you in a calculating manner with his piercing gaze as if reading the pages of an open book, brows raised.

after a beat, he purses his lips. “you’re staring really hard at my neck . . . either you want to tear a piece off, or you’re finding out ways to strangle me to death.”

parting your lips, you’re about to argue his absurd claims (though, the second option looks increasingly tempting by the second) — but he puts a hand up quickly to shush you.

“aht, aht.” satoru arches a brow. and you huff, but grow silent regardless.

with a sigh, he shakes his head before looking you right in the eye and continuing. “i’m super shy, you know?”

here we go. you roll your eyes.

everyone who knows him at all knows that is farthest from the truth.

“really, when you look at me like that, it makes me kinda nervous and concerned for my safety.” he finishes like a delicate flower, lashes fluttering.

you snort at his display. “oh, please. whatever you were thinking just now — it’s not that.”

“which one? cannibalism, or murder?”

you groan, and a sly, amused grin can’t help but creep onto his face, cerulean blues shimmering with delight and a knowing.

to consume him or to kill him? — that is the question. would it be wrong to say yes to both? this way, you’d know more past his mouth and cock, past saliva and semen. you’d taste and feel his blood.

there is no greater knowing than that.

your boyfriend leans in close, eyes trained on your expression, trying to decipher you where you sit, as if dying to hear a juicy secret. “or are you secretly a vampire and you’re plotting to turn me?”, he inquires playfully, eyes going wide in emphasis behind his shades.

“to be honest, i don’t think i want to be immortal.” satoru ponders, pulling away suddenly and tapping his pointer finger against his lips in thought.

gosh, he just loves to hear himself talk.

then he pauses, turning to face you again and speaks in a sincere tone. “but, if it means spending eternity with you, i wouldn’t mind.”

you hate to admit it, but your heart flutters a bit.

you squash it down real fast.

before you can come up with a clever comeback to his flirting, your boyfriend faints back in his seat dramatically, exposing his neck.

“bite away!”, he cries, palm to his forehead.

your airway stutters, pointedly avoiding his adam’s apple which seems to appear more deliciously prominent - sharper - than before with his head thrown back. “just make sure it doesn’t hurt too much — i have sensitive skin.”

the sight flusters you as satoru easily does, and in a moment of pure instinct, you deliver a tiny flick to his cheek — and he sits right back up.

“ow!” his hand flies up to clutch the side of his face protectively. “i just said my skin is sensitive.” he pouts, rubbing the afflicted, reddening area.

“oh, you poor, dainty thing.” you drone in a monotone voice, trying to appear cool as you attempt to still the erratic beating of your heart.

he grumbles, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint. knowing. though, before he can open his big mouth to expose you, you beat him to it. you adjust in your seat, clearing your throat.

“i’m just curious about—”

“aw, curious? about liddol ol’ me?”, he interrupts almost immediately, unable to help himself. “that’s sweet, sweets.” satoru places a hand over his heart with a coo, heavily endeared.

“can you let me finish?”, you deadpan. he gives you a thumbs up with a goofy grin. idiot.

you smile against your will, his incredibly and annoyingly infectious. shifting forward a bit, resting your elbows on the table, you point at the area of his neck at a distance.

“it’s just…” you start slowly, unsure how to word your words. “your adam’s apple—” satoru grins manically in absolute glee as soon as they lift off your tongue, eyes widening a fraction behind the dark lenses.

“ah, i see...” he speaks calmly, the insane look on his face portraying the exact opposite of his tone.

you hum, breath catching in your throat slightly.

“pervert.”

taken aback, blood rushes to your face. you practically flinch, like you’ve been smacked — and it is incredibly gratifying to satoru that he manages to fire you up like this.

“i am not!”

“yes, you are.~” he sings. “admit it. you want to explore me.”

“what i want is to explore a way out of your presence...” you mumble under your breath. but, satoru hears it — and his eyes twinkle brightly at your cheeky response.

with a huff, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest — and you don’t miss how satoru seems to inspect that movement rather intensely, especially your breasts.

and he calls you the pervert.

your boyfriend smiles innocently at your behavior, urging you to finish. “i was just gonna say that — it looks like it hurts.” you murmur, a finger absentmindedly tracing the edge of the table.

“hm, does it?”, satoru inquires with a low and curious hum, suddenly invading your space until he’s unbelievably close in proximity than before. all you could smell is him with his chest right up against your arm, pure amusement lacing his voice.

you tense up in surprise.

even after all this time, you can’t help how nervous he makes you feel, the butterflies in your stomach that border on a tummy ache, as if you’re being examined under a microscope anytime his sights land on you.

unable to meet his gaze even with the barrier his sunglasses provide, you opt to stare down at your lap, fidgeting with your hands and fighting the warmth in your face the best you can.

but satoru knows. he always knows. he knows the effect he has on you in an instant. it’s written in your biology to react this way with him and only him.

“yeah…”, you mumble, swallowing thickly. “it’s like a ball is stuck in your throat or something..?” your voice grows quieter and unsure as you speak. once you’re done, you don’t get a response from him, and you’re too anxious to look up at his face for his reaction.

it’s intimidating, really. satoru is usually so loud. but, when he goes silent, it feels like he’s judging you. and when he does, the more embarrassed you get. it’s as though you want to impress him even when he’s already yours.

and you just said something real stupid, didn’t you?

time seems to sit still for ages, but in reality, it’s only a good five seconds before he does anything.

with a lighthearted chuckle, he pats your head once as if sensing your inner turmoil, soothing you like he would one of his students — a child. you were just so adorable sometimes, he thinks.

a muscle in your eye twitches.

“well, i don’t know about that. but…”, he moves closer into your space until you could practically feel him in your veins as he whispers in your ear. you shiver, body rigid as his breath brushes against your skin, voice impossibly low and serious before—

“i do know a pair of balls that can hurt if you stare at them long enough.”

you blink, and all of a sudden, the humiliation that previously plagued you vanishes into thin air — his sickness like a remedy to your ills. your head tilts up a bit, staring blankly ahead at something far, distant, and forever out of your reach.

sanity.

“i can show you those when we go home later.” he giggles.

“it’ll be our little lesson in anatomy.”

[daxisyzz]

Lost for words

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky can't keep his hands to himself while your on a call with Yelena, wanting all your attention, making you lose your focus.

Based off this prompt from Pinterest

Word count: 3.1k+ (I kinda got too into it lol)

Warnings and tags: Clingy Bucky, he's a menace, Yelena mentioned (bestfriend), neck kisses, more kisses, Bucky is basically touch starved, cute relationship dynamics, Bucky can't keep his hands off of you.

A/n: this is my little treat for my 100 followers milestone. Thank you guys!! Enjoy the fic!!

Love you guys <3

Ps. Go read chapter 1 of my new series Business Proposal ♡

Also requests are open.. feel free to send 'em.!!

You liked to think of your apartment as a sanctuary. Sure, the walls were a little thin, and the paint on the windowsill was starting to peel, but it was yours. A cozy home that smelled of vanilla-scented candles, fresh laundry, and the faint aroma of Bucky’s cologne that seemed to linger everywhere these days.

Most days, Bucky Barnes, your sometimes frustrating, always handsome boyfriend—respected that sense of peace. After all, you’d established a routine of sorts: quiet mornings sipping coffee together, mid-day breaks where he’d slip away for a run or to tinker with something mechanical in the spare room, and lazy evenings spent on the couch binge-watching the latest Netflix series.

But today, it seemed, he had other ideas. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, your phone pressed to your ear, talking to Yelena Belova—your best friend, occasional partner-in-crime, and the only person who could drag you into the most unexpected of situations. Today’s phone call was nothing dramatic, though. She was simply updating you on her day, complaining about a near-disastrous grocery trip, while you nodded and made little sounds of sympathy at all the right times.

It started out innocently enough: Bucky roaming into the kitchen, glancing your way, flashing you a quick grin. You raised your eyebrows in greeting, mouthing I’m on the phone, which typically was code for don’t do anything weird. He gave a small salute, as if to say Understood, ma’am, and disappeared around the corner.

But then, just as Yelena began launching into a story about the horrors of supermarket lines and fighting an old lady for pickles, you felt the faintest brush of warmth at your back. At first, you thought you were imagining it. You continued listening, your phone tucked snugly against your ear. But then a hand—large, warm, and far too confident, settled on your hip. You startled, nearly dropping the phone in surprise.

“Bucky,” you whispered, craning your neck to look at him. He was standing behind you, a lazy smile playing at his lips. “I’m on the phone,” you mouthed.

He only grinned in response, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His voice, when he leaned in, was barely above a murmur. “I know.”

You shot him a pointed glare, one that said Behave yourself. But Bucky, of course, had never been particularly good at following that order.

Yelena’s voice in your ear continued, completely unaware. “So anyway, the cashier looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo for buying that much hot sauce. But it’s not my fault the best brand was on sale—are you even listening?”

“Yes,” you managed, voice slightly strained, “I’m listening. Sorry, I just—”

Bucky took that moment to press closer, his chest aligning perfectly with your back. The warmth of him was impossible to ignore. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, a barely-there touch that sent a chill of awareness down your spine. The phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

“Everything okay?” Yelena asked, clearly catching the odd shift in your tone.

“Fine,” you said too quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force yourself to focus. “Just, uh… I spilled something. Go on.”

You felt, rather heard Bucky’s chuckle against you. His arms slid around your waist, locking you in place. Slowly, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was so light you might have imagined it—if not for the way your entire body tingled in response.

You could practically hear Yelena’s eyebrow arching on the other end of the line. “You sure you’re not busy? I can let you go if you’re… preoccupied.”

“No, no,” you insisted, ignoring Bucky’s soft hum of amusement. “I’m not preoccupied. Really, I’m—” You sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky’s lips dragged across your skin, teasingly slow. “I’m good,” you finished, sounding decidedly not good.

Bucky was a menace. You realized that with startling clarity. He was enjoying every second of this, too—the way your breath hitched, the way your shoulders stiffened when he kissed just behind your ear. If he’d come in loud and obvious, you could have pushed him away, shot him a glare, or at least excused yourself from the call. But this was worse. He was stealthy, methodical, lulling you into a trap with that soft voice, gentle kisses, and the faint scrape of his stubble against your neck.

And oh, you were definitely trapped.

“Let me guess,” Yelena said, suspicion in her tone, “Bucky’s there, isn’t he?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Bucky took advantage of your silence, kissing a trail from the base of your neck up toward your jaw, each press of his lips making your heart pound harder.

"Uh,” you managed, “maybe.”

Yelena barked a laugh. “That’s a yes. Put me on speaker. I want to say hi.”

You stared at Bucky, who gave you a quizzical tilt of his head, as if to say What’s she saying? For a second, you debated whether or not to do as Yelena asked. If you put the call on speaker, she’d hear every little sound: the rustle of Bucky’s clothes against yours, the husky laughter you were certain would spill from his lips at any moment. But you couldn’t exactly refuse her, not without raising even more suspicion.

Reluctantly, you tapped the speaker icon. “Yelena, you’re on speaker,” you said, trying to sound composed. It was a losing battle.

“Barnes,” Yelena said, her tone mocking, “are you bothering my best friend again?”

Bucky cleared his throat. You felt the rumble of it against your back. “I wouldn’t call it bothering,” he said. His voice was low, smooth as silk. “I’m just showing her a little attention.”

You could practically see Yelena rolling her eyes. “She’s on the phone, you know. With me. Some people might say that’s rude.”

Bucky’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Rude, maybe,” he allowed, “but she’s been ignoring me all day. I had to get her attention somehow.”

You wanted to defend yourself, but the words lodged in your throat as Bucky nuzzled against the side of your neck again. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you had to bite your lip to keep from making any embarrassing sounds.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Yelena said, her amusement obvious. “You’re tormenting her.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “Torment’s a strong word.”

“That’s because it is torment,” you finally managed, your voice shaky. “He’s being insufferable.”

Bucky hummed. “You don’t sound too unhappy about it, doll.”

You could hear Yelena snort. “I’ll let you two figure this out. Call me back when Barnes isn’t acting like a cat in heat.”

You tried not to laugh, but the giggle bubbled up anyway, half from the absurdity of the situation, half from your own flustered state. “Okay, okay. Talk to you later.”

The moment you hung up, Bucky wasted no time. He spun you around in his arms so that you were facing him, your phone clutched tightly in one hand. He wore a cocky grin that made you want to kiss him and slap that grin away, all at once.

“You have the worst timing,” you scolded, although your voice trembled with laughter.

He shrugged, not the least bit repentant. “You looked too adorable not to bother.”

You tried to arch an eyebrow in disapproval, but your heart wasn’t in it. Not when Bucky was looking at you like that, with those soft eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. “I was on the phone.”

He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “I noticed.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you grumbled, but you didn’t pull away when he ducked his head to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

His hands settled on your hips, drawing you closer. “I learned from the best.”

Despite yourself, you melted into the kiss, letting the warmth of his body and the taste of his lips chase away your frustration. It was impossible to stay mad at him for long. Not when he kissed you like he was savoring every second.

When you finally pulled away, you were breathless. “I swear, you’re worse than Yelena sometimes.”

He laughed. “High praise.”

You tried to scowl, but the affection in his gaze made it impossible. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He pressed a playful kiss to the tip of your nose. “I’ll take it.”

Later, you found yourself curled up on the couch, scrolling through messages on your phone. Yelena had sent a few texts, each more teasing than the last. You alive? Surviving Barnes’s torment? You typed back a quick reply: Barely. But yes. Thanks for leaving me high and dry.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets. “Need any help fending off Yelena’s jokes?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who gave her ammunition.”

He smirked, coming over to flop onto the couch beside you. “True. But I’m also the one who can help you forget about it.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “How exactly?”He reached out, plucking your phone from your hand. “By stealing your phone, for starters.” He tossed it onto the coffee table, far out of reach.

“Bucky!” You reached for it, but he caught your wrist, tugging you closer until you fell against his chest.

“You work too hard,” he said, settling you against him. “And you spend too much time on your phone. I’m just making sure you take a break.”

You snorted. “A break from Yelena’s teasing, or from your own mischief?”

He shrugged, running a hand up and down your arm. “Maybe both. Besides, I like having your full attention.”

“You had it in the kitchen,” you pointed out. “Remember? You nearly made me drop the phone.”

His smile widened, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “That was different. Now you can actually enjoy it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his fingers slid beneath your chin, guiding you into a kiss. It was slow, deep, and achingly sweet, every bit of teasing replaced by genuine warmth. Your annoyance melted away, replaced by a comfortable haze that made you forget anything beyond the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, he traced a thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” he said softly, though there was still a playful glint in his eyes. “You know I can’t help it sometimes.”

You brushed your lips over his knuckles. “I know. And… I don’t actually mind.”

His grin turned lopsided. “You say that now, but wait until next time.”

You let out a mock groan, shoving him lightly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Never,” he promised, though the twinkle in his gaze suggested otherwise.

A little while later, you found yourself in the kitchen again, rinsing dishes from a late lunch. Bucky hovered nearby, drying each plate you handed him. The domestic routine was soothing—until he decided to nudge you with his hip, nearly making you drop a fork.

“Seriously?” You glared at him, though you struggled to keep a straight face.

“What?” He feigned innocence. “My hand slipped.”

You snorted. “Sure it did.”

He set the plate aside, then stepped closer, the warmth of his body pressing against your back. You felt his breath on your neck again, and your heart kicked up a notch, recalling how he’d distracted you earlier. His lips grazed your ear.

“You’re adorable when you’re annoyed,” he murmured.

“Funny,” you replied, fighting a grin, “I was thinking you’re adorable when you’re not annoying me.”

He laughed quietly, nuzzling into your hair. “You still love me.”

With a soft sigh, you turned in his arms, letting the water run. “I do,” you admitted, resting your hands on his shoulders. “But you have to promise not to sabotage any more phone calls.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I can promise to try.”

You knew that was the best you’d get. Rolling your eyes, you leaned in to kiss him, the warm press of his lips sending a pleasant hum through your body.

A sudden buzz echoed in the kitchen, and you both turned to see your phone vibrating on the counter. Yelena’s name flashed across the screen. Bucky grinned, lifting a brow. “Round two?”

You huffed, reaching for the phone. “Don’t you dare.”

He put his hands up in surrender, stepping aside with an exaggerated show of good behavior. You picked up the call, putting it on speaker before you could change your mind.

Yelena’s voice came through loud and clear. “Hey, troublemaker. You done making out with Barnes?”

Your cheeks flamed. “That was quick. And you’re the troublemaker.”

“Details, details,” she quipped. “Anyway, I was thinking about that recipe I mentioned earlier—”

“Oh, right. The spicy pickle challenge,” you said, glad to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

“Exactly. I need your help. I can’t figure out if I should make them into some kind of hot sauce, or if I should try a marinade. But I need to test it on someone who’s not me. You in?”

You glanced at Bucky, who mouthed, Absolutely not. Smirking, you replied, “Sure, why not?”

Yelena laughed. “Perfect. I’ll text you the details. And by the way, I’m bringing extra pickles so no old ladies can steal them from me.”

Bucky cleared his throat, stepping closer to the phone. “You’re not going to drag her into any fights, are you?”

“No promises,” Yelena shot back, then paused. “You being nice to her, Barnes? Or do I need to show up and save her?”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to you, a playful challenge in his eyes. “She doesn’t need rescuing from me.”

You decided to intervene before Yelena got any ideas. “Alright, enough bickering. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Fine,” she replied with a dramatic sigh. “But if he bugs you again, you call me.”

“Will do,” you said, rolling your eyes affectionately.

The call ended, and you braced yourself for another round of teasing, but Bucky just slipped his arms around your waist, looking surprisingly thoughtful. You looped your arms around his neck.

“You know,” he murmured, “I like seeing you happy. Even if it means occasionally getting on your nerves.” A warm flush spread through you. There was that sincerity again, the undercurrent of genuine care that anchored all his playful chaos. “You make me happy,” you said softly.

He brushed a stray hair from your face. “Good.”

That evening, you and Bucky ventured out for a walk. The late sunlight gilded the buildings, and a gentle breeze ruffled your hair. With your hands intertwined, the two of you wandered the streets, content to let the conversation flow.

He told you about his latest hobby—fixing up an old motorcycle he’d found cheap online—and you filled him in on Yelena’s plan to experiment with spicy recipes. Every so often, he’d nudge your shoulder or lean in to press a quick kiss to your temple, as if he couldn’t go too long without touching you.

Eventually, you ducked into a small corner café that you both loved. You ordered dessert first, justifying it with a laugh: “Life’s too short not to have cake for dinner.” Bucky agreed wholeheartedly, paying for your order and guiding you to a cozy table by the window.

Once seated, he studied you from across the table, fingers drumming idly on the surface. “So,” he said, “am I forgiven for earlier?”

You tilted your head. “I don’t know. You did cause me a lot of embarrassment in front of Yelena.”

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling. “Try it and see.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice that made your heart flutter. “For distracting you while you were on the phone.”

Your smile widened. “And?"

He reached across the table to take your hand. “And for enjoying it so much.”

You squeezed his hand, unable to keep the fondness out of your eyes. “Apology accepted, menace.”

The café door chimed, and a few more customers wandered in. You sipped your drink, relaxing in the warm atmosphere. Bucky kept your hand in his, occasionally rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When your cake arrived, you split it, laughing as he stole the larger piece. He offered you a bite from his fork in apology, and you leaned forward, letting him feed you.

“Good?” he asked, eyes bright.

“Delicious,” you managed, savoring the sweetness.

He watched you with open admiration. “I like seeing you happy,” he repeated again, his voice softer now.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I’m happy because I’m with you.”

He held your gaze, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. You saw the man beneath the mischief—the one who cared so deeply, who’d learned to laugh again despite the shadows of his past.

“You know,” he said, clearing his throat, “I never thought I’d have this. Someone to tease, someone who gives it right back. Someone whom i could becso free with.”

Your heart clenched with affection. “And now you do.”

He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “Now I do.”

When you finally left the café, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in dusky blues and pinks. Bucky’s arm looped around your waist as you headed home, the city lights flickering on around you.

You strolled in comfortable silence until you reached your apartment. Once inside, you both kicked off your shoes and made a beeline for the couch. He settled in first, patting the cushion beside him in invitation.

“Come here,” he said, and you sank down, letting him pull you into his side.

He grabbed the remote, but instead of changing the broadcast, he clicked it off. The apartment went quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic through the window. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady breath.

After a moment, he turned to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For this. For us.”

You smiled into his shirt. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

He tilted your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “I want to,” he said, and the quiet sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten with emotion.

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Well, you’re welcome, then.”

He bent down, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like a promise—of laughter, of mischief, of all the little moments that made up a life together. You let yourself sink into it, letting the warmth of his body and the softness of his mouth fill your senses.

Eventually, you both pulled back, breathless. He smoothed a hand over your hair, cradling you against him. “We should do something fun tomorrow,” he said. “Before you go help Yelena with her spicy pickles.”

You chuckled, snuggling closer. “Sure. But only if you behave the next time I’m on the phone.”

His laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’ll do my best, doll.” You didn’t quite believe him—but then again, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the end, Bucky was a whirlwind of affection and playfulness, and though you sometimes pretended to protest, you secretly relished every teasing moment. Because beneath the jokes and the stolen kisses, there was a profound sense of belonging that tied you together.

As the evening came by, you drifted off in his arms, content and warm. The memory of his soft laughter echoed in your mind, reminding you that even when he was a menace, he was yours—and you were his. And that was all that mattered.