redwingstan

[redwingstan]

I am currently accepting requests for bucky & joaquin torres. Fluff only. Send a request in my ask!

[redwingstan]

the angel that fell from the sky [joaquin torres x fem!reader insert]

author's note; if you haven't seen cap 4, please go see it. also slight spoilers below!

warnings; none; just fluff. please enjoy!

"'The Angel that fell from the sky.'" "The 'Angel'?"

"That's what they're calling you."

You heard the squeaking of wheels from Joaquin's chair as he pushed himself towards you. He peered over your shoulder, bracing one arm on the desk to get a closer look at your monitor. His breath fanned your cheek as he mumbled aloud the headline of the article you had been reading.

"Sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" he asked before pulling away and plopping back into his chair. You looked over your shoulder to catch him wincing as he nursed his broken arm that was still in a sling. "But if it gets me closer to meeting Ant Man, I'll take it."

You stifle a soft laugh before clicking from the article and typing away on the screen you were working on before. "Glad to see the fame hasn't gone to your head."

"If months of physical therapy and being told over and over by you and Sam to 'take it easy' is the price of fame...I don't know know if it's all worth it," he joked with a laugh that made you roll your eyes.

You continued to type away. "Well, sorry that we're worried about you," you said, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you the felt the atmosphere shift a bit. "But to be fair, you did almost die."

"Huh."

Your typing ceased and you looked over your shoulder to find him grinning.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He was leaning back in his chair, studying with an amused grin. You rolled your eyes again and decided to take him for his word. You faced your monitor and went back to typing.

"It's just that..." You groaned and ceased typing once more, though you didn't dare look over your shoulder as he continued. "I could've sworn you just said you were worried about me." He used his feet to make his chair roll towards you.

Biting the bullet, you looked over shoulder and met him with a harsh stare, though it was accompanied by a subtle smile you couldn't seem to hide this time around. "I said Sam and I."

"Which," he continued on as if presenting his final argument to a grand jury, "implies that you do, in fact, care about me too." He leaned his good elbow on his knee and propped his chin in the center of his palm as he gazed at you, tickled pink by this revelation. "I'm starting to wonder who's head over heels now?"

You laugh a bit, already in the process of turning back to your computer. "So am I."

You had long ago sworn off telling Joaquin your real feelings despite knowing his feelings towards you were mutual. But every time you or Joaquin mustered up the courage to share your true feelings, things went wrong.

The first time it had been a simple miscalculation resulting in minor scrapes and bruises that landed him in the infirmary. This time it was the ICU. You balled up your fists in your lap as you recalled the long wait in the waiting room, the sight of him strung up to wires that monitored his fragile heartbeat; and the black and blue bruises that littered his skin.

You didn't even want to dwell on the possibilities on how much worse things could get. Which is why it was much easier to bottle up your feelings and hope that they would wear off eventually. After all, in your mind at least, it would save you both the emotional damage of losing one another.

Your heart suddenly skipped a couple more beats as Joaquin reached out to stop your chair from turning away from him. You let your feet go slack against the hardwood floor as he used one arm, with little to no effort, to gently tug your rolling chair towards him so you were facing him again. You came to a slow stop as your knees briefly touched. It was during this moment that you felt your brain turn to mush.

"It's me."

You blinked. "What?"

He reached out to touch one of your fists resting on your thigh. Slowly your fingers began to uncurl from your palm.

"I'm...head over heels...for you," he said with nervous laughter.

You laughed too, unsure of what to say. "Did Sam tell you say that?"

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red you've never seen before. He gave your loose fist a soft squeeze. Eventually, his infectious grin turned into a subtle, nervous smile.

"I want to give us a chance—"

"Joaquin—"

He threaded his fingers in the spaces between yours. You were too distracted by the bundle of nerves in your chest to feel them.

"Y/N, I've kissed death one too many times not to at least let you know how I feel...not that you don't already know." The corners of his lips turned upwards just as yours did.

He was right. It wasn't like you didn't know how he felt about you. Ever since he came wandering into your uncle's gym, he didn't once shy away from letting you know how he felt. Be it a lingering gaze; his signature grin of approval when you successfully hit the punching bag right; or the occasional conglomerate of words that fell out of his mouth that sometimes didn't make much sense—though you always understood what he was trying to say. His feelings for you had always been right there within your reach.

As if reminding you of this, Joaquin squeezed your hand, eyes yearning for a response.

"You know Sam will tease you endlessly when he hears about us," You said, apprehensive of the consequences to come.

Joaquin inched forward, the wheels of his chair scraping the floor. "I think I can handle it. He already does that to me now, I'm used to it."

"Good point," you said with a shrug, your body naturally inclining forward. "But, you'll only hear me complaining twice as much for you to take it easy."

He let go of one of your hands, his bruised fingers reaching forward to stroke your warm cheek. "Child's play, mi amor. I could never get tired of you nagging me."

The beating of your heart grew louder than your thoughts.

"Then there's Captain America..."

"Yeah, yeah. You mentioned Sam, already," he said, his thumb stroking your skin as he leaned forward, your foreheads brushing against each other. He glanced at your lips.

"No, I mean...the other Captain America."

Joaquin paused. "Your uncle?"

You nodded. "You know he still never got over you calling him 'gramps' when you first met."

His shoulders slumped a bit, slight disappointment lacing his features. "But I thought he liked me?"

"I like you." The words fell out of your mouth before you could stop them. His grin returned at this. You squeezed his hand, the one that was still holding your cheek. "But he won't go any easier on you if it's me you're after."

"So I'm up against two Captain Americas?" He whispered, eyes growing wide at this sudden revelation. You laughed and shook your head in amusement.

Before you could respond, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Just as he pulled away, he managed to murmur, "Game on," before pressing his lips to yours.

[redwingstan]

"you know what we are. you just want to hear me say it." with bucky please!

debts paid - bucky x reader insert

author's note; thanks for your request, anon! hope you like it! (I may make a part 2 with this one!)

"So, what are we?"

Bucky grunted, a response you got when he didn't know what to say, or when he was just playfully annoyed. This time you couldn't tell which one it was.

"What happened to not asking questions?" He said as his back remained to you. He was hunched over the balcony, looking below at the bustling streets filled with people heading to their destinations.

"The same thing that happened to no secrets," you mumbled, shoulders dropping as if the miniscule book you held in your hands weighed a ton.

There was a rule you both had agree upon back in the day—a two for one special that kept your relationship—friendship, whatever—thriving: If you were both honest from the jump, there was no need to ask questions, no need to harbor secrets.

Looks like you both were breaking the rules tonight.

Bucky did a double-take as you stood next to him and nudged the little black book against his bicep. It took him a second or two to realize what it was. When he did, he took it before as if you hadn't already read the contents inside.

You sighed and looked straight ahead at the skyline. "I don't know whether to be relieved that you didn't forget about me," You sighed. "...or offended that I'm the last person on that list."

Granted, you didn't even bother skimming the list hard enough to recognize any of the names. You didn't even know what the list meant. You only managed to see your name—your first initial and last name scrawled at the very bottom— and that was enough for you to confront him about it.

Gently, he settled his hand on yours as he shoved the book into his back pocket.

"You weren't supposed to find this—"

"To be fair, I didn't have to go looking for it. You don't have much furniture."

Bucky's apartment was desolate save for a tv, and whatever bundle lay in the corner of what was supposed to be the living room. No furniture, not even a coffee table was in sight. The book happened to be laying on his makeshift bed made of disheveled blanket and jacket.

Bucky sighed as you pulled your hand away from his. You turned to head inside, but he made another quick attempt at your wrist. This time with a more firm grip. You spun around, though made no effort to close the space between both of you. Bucky took it upon himself to step forward, his grip on your wrist transferring to your hand. His thumb ran over the back of it in remorse.

"Okay," he said with a heavy sigh, eyes softening as he looked down at you. "I'm sorry. I know I should've been more honest. I know I should've found you sooner." He lifted your hand and gave it a soft kiss before lowering it. "Forgive me? Please."

"Under one condition," you said, appearing unphased on the outside in regards to his gesture of affection. He knew it was one of the things that worked to settle your nerves.

He lifted a brow in curiosity before lowering your hands, though he didn't let go of them.

"I get to ask three questions," you stated, chin lifted in defiance.

"One," he argued.

"Two," you countered, taking a step forward with a subtle grin on your lips.

Bucky's brows furrowed. "One."

You narrowed your eyes in defeat. "Then my question still stands." Your eyes traced his tired face. He looked beaten, like he had gone more than hundred rounds with the world. The bags under his eyes indicated a lack of sleep. The rough stubble crawling across his jaw made him look more rugged. His hair was cut short—a stark contrast to the longer dark locks you were used to. Six years had certainly done a number on him.

With a sigh of your own, you gave his hand a squeeze. "What are we, Bucky?"

He groaned in internally, though it wasn't out of annoyance, you knew. He wasn't the best at talking about his feelings, but you never held that against him. At least after years of not seeing him on account of The Blip and a year after, you believed you were owed an explanation to this question. A question you had been holding on your tongue since the moment he told you he might not be coming back.

His gloved thumbs traced your hands as he gently tugged you towards his chest. "You know what we are. You just want to hear me say it," he said.

You grinned. "I do," you said tilting your chin upwards with a lifted brow.

With dark eyes, the infamous Winter Soldier stroked your cheek. He placed a kiss on your temple.

"I can't be the only one to say what we are," he sighed, "but I know that you're one of the only people I can trust, and losing you again would be another devastation I wouldn't be able to bear." He stroked your cheek gently, eyes looking everywhere but at you. Your fingertips migrated over his stubble and guided his eyes back to your face. The Winter Soldier gave you a look of surprise before his lips settled into a subtle smile.

He kissed your temple once more.

"Does that answer your question, doll?"

[redwingstan]

“𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚” — Ghost (Thunderbolts*, 2025) ► about me ► masterlist ► requesting rules ►recent work: ►