#since thunderbolts is on its way

[snevins]

the day people stop dropping brain dead john walker (mcu) takes is the day i will finally know peace

like he’s such a morally complex and interesting character who was a perfect narrative foil to sam and the long-standing arc of what it means to pick up that shield and be captain america. he perfectly displays the sentiment we got back in the first captain america movie “not a great soldier, but a good man”. the us government picks a great soldier, the greatest one they have available. they do not understand that being captain america is so much more than that. a guy like john walker thrives in the morally grey environments of war but you make him the beacon of morality and goodness that is captain america and he crumbles. he was not made for it. the us military made him into a soldier, a weapon, and asked him to be something else. he acts the way that a soldier acts, does what a soldier would do, but captain america was never supposed to be a soldier, so he fucks up and makes the wrong decisions at almost every turn. he’s doing his best but he wasn’t built for this so it isn’t enough

his character is also such a good commentary on the us military, how the government asks terrible and life ruining things of its soldiers and then leaves them behind at its earliest convenience.

like john walker is the definition of “i am what you made me”. they made him exactly who he is, he lived his life by their mandates, he did everything they ever asked of him, and it wasn’t enough because they asked him to do something he could never do, stop being a soldier

[spideysatan]

life is great when you're not a HUGE bitch that is mad with life and love and whimsy and you can simply enjoy different love stories without comparing them

[liuisi]

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said: “Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell Me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements? Surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? To what were its foundations fastened? Or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Or who shut in the sea with doors, when it burst forth and issued from the womb; when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band; when I fixed My limit for it, and set bars and doors; when I said, ‘This far you may come, but no farther, And here your proud waves must stop!’

Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place, that it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it? It takes on form like clay under a seal, and stands out like a garment. From the wicked their light is withheld, and the upraised arm is broken.

Have you entered the springs of the sea? Or have you walked in search of the depths? Have the gates of death been revealed to you? Or have you seen the doors of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth? Tell Me, if you know all this. Where is the way to the dwelling of light? And darkness, where is its place, that you may take it to its territory, that you may know the paths to its home? Do you know it, because you were born then, or because the number of your days is great? Have you entered the treasury of snow, or have you seen the treasury of hail, which I have reserved for the time of trouble, for the day of battle and war? By what way is light diffused, or the east wind scattered over the earth?

Who has divided a channel for the overflowing water, or a path for the thunderbolt, to cause it to rain on a land where there is no one, a wilderness in which there is no man; to satisfy the desolate waste, and cause to spring forth the growth of tender grass? Has the rain a father? Or who has begotten the drops of dew? From whose womb comes the ice? And the frost of heaven, who gives it birth? The waters harden like stone, and the surface of the deep is frozen. Can you bind the cluster of the Pleiades, Or loose the belt of Orion? Can you bring out Mazzaroth in its season? Or can you guide the Great Bear with its cubs? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you set their dominion over the earth?

Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, that an abundance of water may cover you? Can you send out lightnings, that they may go, and say to you, ‘Here we are! ’? Who has put wisdom in the mind? Or who has given understanding to the heart? Who can number the clouds by wisdom? Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven, when the dust hardens in clumps, and the clods cling together? Can you hunt the prey for the lion, or satisfy the appetite of the young lions, When they crouch in their dens, or lurk in their lairs to lie in wait? Who provides food for the raven, when its young ones cry to God, and wander about for lack of food?'

Job 38:1-41

[urbaebarnes]

Ok but since Thunderbolts is coming out soon, how about something where Reader is either his campaign manager, or secretary, or like his handler when he makes appearances and somehow Bucky trusts her more than anyone else on his staff, so he invites her as his plus one to the Gala.

If you want to make it angsty/throw in some action, you could have Valentina sabotage his date at the gala by slipping something in her drink or having her goons tail reader home afterwards. 👀👀👀

Anyway, hope this gives you some inspiration! No pressure to use this tho

AHHHH i actually lysm for this!! thank you for sending me this and basically i got carried away so i'm gonna be splitting this up into like 2/3 different parts which should be out soon!

anyway i basically have the first half of the request in here and the rest will be in the next one! i love love love this idea so much and the new pictures that came out of him in thunderbolts has me in a chokehold like okay we see u babes

also i know very little about UK politics and even lass about US and my limited knowledge of media officers all comes form F1 so this probably makes no sense if your a professional in any of them but shhh its okay we move

Two Hearts: part 1

congressman bucky barnes x pr manager fem reader warnings: no use of y/n, she/her pronouns used, probably curse words (maybe not idk) word count: 1.3k words

You’d started out as his PR manager, for the first few months, that’s all you were to him, and he swore by that, he really did. But somewhere along the way, you’d become something much more, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It didn’t start when you first entered the office, you were a breath of fresh air to the mundane office, but you were just new. Your desk was filled with little trinkets colourful sticky notes plastered over the frame of your computer monitor. But all Bucky thought was that you were sweet.

But then you had to start coming places with him, and doing interviews just off camera so he could look to you for help, and all of a sudden your sweetness became a buoy, something to desperately grasp onto as he felt he was sinking into the depths of the interviewer's questions. Even if you didn’t need to step in, your presence was always calming enough that he knew exactly how to handle it, a situation he’d found himself in too few a time in his life.

So what, you became something along the line of a friend for him, someone he could confide in and sort of trust. Which meant a lot coming from a man who spent months trying to let goddamn Sam in, and you did it within a few weeks.

Somehow throughout the campaign, he couldn’t stop himself from letting you weasel yourself into the list of his most dearest. Between your reassuring smiles and little gifts and honestly just you, Bucky felt like you could very possibly be his person. Sometimes you could just be there and it would put the tiniest of smiles on his face, sending you a little wave across a crowded bar- and yeah Sam would take the piss out of him for it, but he’d gotten past Sam’s endless teasing a while ago.

That bar had become a weird sort of crossover point for your and Bucky’s life outside of work. Sometimes you’d sit with your friend when you finished a little earlier or occasionally a group, Bucky noted he never saw you with a boyfriend but wasn’t really sure why his brain would even think that. He and Sam would meet there after long days at work and oftentimes, you and your friends would be regulars in the crowded building, lazing by the bar as you drank together.

You’d never talk to each other in there, but it seemed that the other was constantly in your eyeline, always watching, subtly checking in. But after a few of these nights, Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes wandering to your figure all night. Sam was twittering about something or another, and he tried to focus, he really did, but how was he supposed to do that when you were sat a few seats away, looking so captivating.

Sam had stopped talking halfway through, not that Bucky had noticed, and instead started laughing as he watched the unusually stone cold exterior of his friend crumble as he longingly stared at your back. “Dude, you're whipped!�� He’d managed to get out between his breathless laughs.

Sam’s words had managed to catch his attention, gaze flicking from you to him as the words set in and his brow furrowed. “What- I’m not-”

Despite his protests and insistent denials of having any sort of interest in you in that way, Bucky Sam persisted and eventually, it took more energy to deny it than let Sam have his fun - or at least that’s what Bucky said to himself. And sure that little flutter in his chest he felt whenever you smiled felt as if it grew every single goddamn day, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to admit that he had a crush on you.

But even if he did, it would be wrong and immoral, he was trying to represent a need for change, present to the country why he could be trusted, and you were supposed to help, not make him fall into some strange tango of emotions with you. But you did, and it wasn’t your fault, he didn’t think he could fault you for the goddamn end of the world if you caused it.

So when he needed a plus one to a gala, you were the only logical answer. He trusted you above everybody else who worked with him, and maybe he wanted an excuse to see you outside of your office or press conference or interview rooms. Bucky wanted a glimpse of you he’d seen at the bar with your friends, he just wanted a taste of the life he wished he could have with you.

Your office was a place he’d enjoyed being in more and more as the past few months had occurred. The photo frames on your desk were scattered and everything had a slight messiness that brought a feeling of coziness. He’d often find reasons to linger in there, so it wasn't out of character when he appeared one day.

“Morning.” You greeted him with a smile after his polite knocks, sipping on your coffee, one hand wrapped around your kermit the frog mug whilst typing out an email to a news agency with your other. Bucky had nodded, he was usually less talkative in the mornings -which you’d taken a note of to move any media prep to the afternoons. You blew on the steaming mug before tilting your head, “You good?”

He’d sat himself on the sage green couch tucked in the corner of the room and smiled softly at you before relying. “I have a question for you.”

Immediately, you placed your mug on the coaster and stopped typing, letting your arms cross over the wooden desk, elbow brushing the wrapper of one of those breakfast bars you liked so much. He’d made sure to stock up the kitchen after finding out your habit of snacking on them. “Ask away.”

Now, Bucky Barnes wasn’t generally a nervous man,or at least not when it came to women, but you managed to make it seem like asking you to be his +1 was a life or death event, as though the decision itself would alter the way the earth spins on its axis. Which to him, it may well have.

Bucky avoided your eyes, glancing just past your head at the drapes that were tied beside your large windows looking out into the city. “That gala I have to go to next month, the fundraising one, I don’t- erm…”

You let out a sigh as you leant forward on your arms, lips pursed. “Bucky, you have to go. It’s too late now, I can’t get you out of it, if you’d told me a few days ago then maybe but-”

“No, no, you have it wrong.” He quickly interrupted, shaking his head, “No, I was going to say that I don’t have a plus one, and I would be really grateful and forever in your debt if you’d possibly…” He trailed off again, scrunching his nose and finally meeting your eyes, “Go with me?”

You blinked once.

Then twice.

And finally a third time before you managed to move your head, looking behind you out the window once before looking back at him. “What? You want me to-?” You stopped abruptly, seeing the serious look on his face, his eyes looking straight at you, as though reading your mind.

You’d wondered if he had that superpower a few times before, especially when you first started, which would’ve been a nightmare seeing as at the beginning of your role here, you struggled to hold yourself up when around him. Bucky Barnes was -to put it simply- gorgeous. Everything you’d ever looked for in a man was right in front of you in the body of your boss, and if he could read minds, well you’d ruled that out seeing as you most likely would’ve been fired by now.

Your voice lowered as a small smile made its way onto your lips, knowing it probably meant nothing, but at the same time, it meant everything to you. “If you’d like me to, I’d love to.”

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"I'M HERE, DARLING"

I WROTE A FIC WITH JOHNNY STORM

I'm so excited for this movie guys, like OMFG First Steps and the Thunderbolts are both myb reason to exist right now

Obviusly i'm going to write A LOT more fics when the movie cames out but for now, the ones i'm writting are inspired by the FANTASTIC trailer that was released yesterday

SOOOO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! 🖤😊☝

You were worried sick.

Ever since Silver Surfer had come down from the sky and told you your world was doomed, you hadn't been able to sleep a wink.

Johnny knew it.

He could feel your anxiety in the air; the way you avoided his and the others' eyes was proof enough that it was affecting you, just like it was all of them.

It was the third day you'd gone to bed without dinner.

Johnny couldn't stand seeing you like this, so he put a portion of food on his plate and walked slowly to your room.

Reed and Susan watched him leave silently, while Ben ate, staring down at his plate.

When Johnny got to your room, he knocked softly on the door twice and waited for you to answer.

"Y/n? Are you there?" he asked. You didn't answer. "Y/n?" "He asked again."

"Go away, Johnny," you replied brusquely. "I need to be alone."

"I know, but you haven't eaten in too long," he retorted. "Open the door, please."

You thought about it for a few moments before getting out of bed and opening the door.

Johnny's gaze rested on you for a few seconds, taking in your sleep-deprived eyes and the bags under them that indicated the lack of it.

"Hello."

"Hello."

He placed the tray on your desk, nodding at it.

"I brought you something to eat," he announced. "I know you don't feel like doing or saying anything," he continued. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to, but you have to eat," he decreed softly. "Do it for me."

You watched him for a few moments and without saying a word, you picked up the plate and began to eat with your characteristic slowness, making him smile.

"Thank you," he whispered heartily. The sight of you feeding after so many days was reason enough for his own anxiety to subside a little. "Please, don't do something like that again. I…" He swallowed hard. "I can't stand seeing you suffer like this."

"I can't help it," you said after swallowing what was in your mouth. "This threat… it's too much for us," you began. "What if we can't stop the Surfer? Or Galactus? What will happen to Earth?"

"We are the protectors of this planet," he murmured. "That's what we told the silver one, and we did it because it's the truth," he declared. "This planet and its people are under our protection." He sat down slowly beside you on the bed. "We're going to save it, Y/N. And we'll do it as a family."

"Is there no one else who can help us?" "You asked.

He shook his head. "I think if there was, Reed would have told us," he said, looking at you gently. "We will not fail," he said. "This world has endured countless threats, and the human race has always prevailed over them all."

You looked up at him, watching him from behind your long eyelashes.

"But at what price?" you blurted out. "How many lives does it take for the Earth to see a new dawn?" you murmured, feeling tears slipping down your cheeks again. "I don't want to see you die," you confessed. "You are my family… you are… all I have left." Without you, I'm… I'm…

"Don't say it," he interrupted gently, holding your face in his hands. "I'm here, darling. I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, pulling you into his chest in a tender hug.

"Thank you, Johnny," you sobbed. "I'm… I'm so sorry I made you suffer."

"It's not your fault," he assured me, running his hands through your hair reassuringly. "None of this is your fault," he whispered, ducking his head to look at you. "We'll fix this, together."

"Together," you repeated, leaning back against his chest.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Loose Lips — Part Two (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Finally got round to writing a part two to this after a sudden burst of inspiration. Here is Part One if you missed it.

This isn't proofread, so sorry if it's a pile of dicks. Enjoy!

Warnings: smuttysmutsmut 🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･

The forest was undoubtedly beautiful. A place of sure serenity. Somewhere you’d always found peace.

Right now, you felt like nothing short of a thunderbolt in its flawless midst.

You shifted on your feet for what felt like the millionth time, pressing your back against a tree and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t be able to relax until this meeting was over with.

Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked over you, and he frowned. “Are you alright? Why are you so restless?”

Because we’re here to meet with Eris and the last time I did that I somehow, kind of, maybe ended up fucking him—

“Fine.” You quickly answered. “Pain. My cycle is coming.”

Rhys’s eyes softened. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Once the prick actually deigns to show up.”

You didn’t have a shred of doubt that Eris’s tardiness was deliberate — a power play. And he could play all the games he liked, so long as he kept his damn mouth shut.

As if you’d summoned him with a thought, the Autumn male appeared out of a chill-kissed breeze, his crackling-fire-and-cinnamon scent enveloping you. You tried desperately to block it out — and the sinful thoughts that accompanied it. Of bare skin. Panting breaths. Moans—

“Afternoon.” Eris smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He offered Rhysand a cursory glance before turning his attention on you. “You’re looking radiant today, Y/N.”

You pursed your lips. Kept your mouth shut. You weren’t getting into it with him — weren’t giving him any ammunition to spill the truth of what had transpired a month earlier.

His lips twitched as he studied you. “What, no smartass response?”

“Cut the shit, Eris.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Share your information so we can get out of here. We don’t wish to be subjected to your tedious company for any longer than is necessary.”

He cocked his head, and you hated that you noticed he’d cut his hair since you’d last seen him. “Do you not like my company?”

You knew his words were directed at you. He’d come here to play games, and you were having none of it. He allowed his gaze to linger on you for a second longer before turning to your High Lord.

“Well?” Rhys cocked an eyebrow.

Eris folded his arms. “The King of Hybern…”

You didn’t allow yourself to hear the rest of his sentence. For the first time in your career as Rhysand’s courtier, you tuned out, taking in none of the information that was being given. You didn’t hear a word of their discussion as you stared fiercely at a fallen leaf on the ground. You couldn’t.

Because it tortured you on a daily basis that you knew what the redhead’s voice sounded like when he was falling off that precipice into blissful release. The way it had hitched when he’d groaned deeply and spilled into you. It was all you could think about, and you couldn’t bear it.

Guilt had eaten away at you ever since. Guilt and regret. You should never have given yourself to Eris fucking Vanserra.

You only felt safe enough to tune back in when Rhys turned his gaze on you. He gave a subtle dip of his chin, and you returned it — the signal the two of you shared when you’d gleaned useful information to tuck away.

Never mind the fact that you didn’t have a single clue what that information may be.

“Alright, then.” Rhys spoke tersely to the Autumn lord. “Keep me updated. I’ll be in touch when I next need to meet with you.”

“Will it be you, High Lord?” Eris’s lips turned up. He glanced at you. “Or her? I must say, I find her far more appealing to look at.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise. Something to look forward to in your sad little life.” Rhys turned to you, holding out a hand. “Ready?”

You shook your head. “You go. I promised Madja I’d collect some herbs for her while I’m here.”

A small, pathetic part of you wanted to beg Rhys to stay; to keep you company and not leave you alone with Eris. But he was a busy male — far too busy for the drama you’d created for yourself. You plastered a smile on your face.

“I’ll see you at home, then.” He smiled. And without a goodbye to your tentative ally, he disappeared before your eyes.

Eris smirked as he turned to you. “And then there were two.”

“Leave me alone.” You pulled your foraging knife out, turning on your feet. You didn’t look back as you began to kick through leaves and twigs.

But, of course, he was hot on your trail. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody who made you cum not once, not twice, but three times.”

You clenched your jaw, ignoring him as you knelt down in front of a cluster of plants. You would do better this time. You wouldn’t allow your mouth to run you down a path you couldn’t come back from.

He didn’t make it easy, though. Not as you tried to focus yourself solely on gathering the herbs Madja had listed. Despite the lack of conversation — or even acknowledgement of him — Eris pressed himself against a tree and watched you, absentmindedly cleaning his nails with the point of a dagger.

How could you ever have fallen into bed with him? You were such a damn idiot, risking everything for a few fleeting moments of passion. You tucked the herbs neatly away, pushing to your feet and brushing dirt and leaves from your breeches. You turned—

And stopped as Eris appeared in front of you. He smirked. “I’m still waiting, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For you to thank me for not spilling your dirty little secret.”

Prick. You shoved past him, ignoring his warmth, his scent.

He was at your side in seconds. “Aren’t you so relieved that I didn’t slip up and tell Rhysand about your little ride? I still could.”

Every last drop of your sensibility fizzled out. You couldn’t stop yourself from rounding on him. “Are you truly in a position to be threatening me? Both of us fucked up that night. What do you think Beron would have to say if he found out you’d bedded someone from the Night Court, of all places?”

“My father doesn’t care who I bed. I’m free to do whatever I please, so long as it doesn’t distract me from the ultimate goal.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

His amber gaze glittered, catching the sun. “World domination.”

You rolled your eyes. “How very cliche.”

You made to push past him again, to get the fuck out of there, but his hand was suddenly gripping onto yours. In seconds, he had you pressed against the body of a tree.

You clenched your jaw. “Get. The hell. Away from—”

The remainder of the sentence didn’t have a chance to so much as form as Eris’s mouth found yours.

The press of his kiss was hot and needy, and as his lips moulded with yours, he groaned.

It was that action that made you realise just how little space existed between your bodies. His hips were pinned to yours, keeping you in place, and the warmth of him seeped into you as your breasts brushed his chest. Within seconds — mere seconds of him kissing you — you felt him harden in his breeches. His groan seemed to vibrate through every part of him and into you.

And then he was tearing his lips from yours. Staring down at you. “Fuck, you taste amazing. I’ve thought about nothing but this,” he rolled his hips against you, making sure your attention went exactly where he wanted it, “for over a month, now. Tell me you’ve been just as crazed.”

You had been. Perhaps more so. But you swallowed. “I can’t.”

That didn’t deter Eris from slanting his lips over yours again. His tongue swiped out, brushing against the seam of your lips, and you were powerless against your need as you opened your mouth and allowed him to dip in.

You gasped at the first taste of him; something cool and crisp and smoky. And you knew you were done fighting, telling yourself you didn’t want this, as you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him more firmly against you.

He grunted as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against your stomach. His lips slid from yours, dragging slowly over your cheek, and then the cut of your jaw, down to your neck.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He panted, pressing quick, chaste kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Tell me to stop.”

You swallowed, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. “No.”

And that single word — as much as it pained you to say it — dragged such a delicious, guttural noise from him, that you forgot entirely about who you were and why this was wrong. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than what Eris was doing.

Your mouth went so very, very dry as he pulled away to meet your gaze. And then lowered himself to his knees before you.

He was utterly uncaring of the dirt and leaves that stuck to his breeches as he clasped your legs. And the hard press of his hands felt scorching through your own pants. You wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d turned the clothing to mere ash he dragged his palms up the backs of your legs and cupped your ass.

“You’re fucking mouthwatering.” He dipped in, pressing a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “I need to taste you.”

“Holy gods.” You cursed, your head falling back against the tree. “Do it, then.”

Like a male entirely starved and desperate, his nimble fingers moved to the buttons on your breeches, making quick work of getting them undone. The second they were loosened enough, he yanked them down with a feral command that had heat rushing between your legs.

And he could scent that. You knew it. He inhaled deeply, and his responding moan was sinful.

“This is wrong.” Your voice was weak, useless, as your head fell back.

“So wrong.” Eris hooked his fingers into the thin waistband of your undergarments. Tugged them down..

You made no move to stop him. “And stupid. And selfish. And—”

Your words turned into a moan as he dipped in and dragged his tongue up the very centre of you.

A satisfied grunt left him, and he lifted your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. It had you at a better angle, closer to him, so he could feast on you.

And feast, he did.

His mouth and tongue were renowned for wielding wicked, barbed words, but this was a different language entirely. His fingers dug into your legs as he buried himself between your thighs, licking and lapping and fucking devouring. He made his way up, scraping teeth over your clit, the sensation both pleasant and unpleasant. Before you had a chance to react, he soothed over the area with the pad of his tongue, and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surged through you.

“Oh, gods.” Breathy words escaped your lips. Thank the Mother above for the mammoth tree at your back that gave you the support to move as you wished to move, undulating your hips, grinding against Eris’s face.

And from the way he growled and feasted on you harder, you knew he liked it. He was becoming coated in you, painting himself with your wetness. With the roll of your hips picking up pace, he didn’t falter once.

“Look at you.” He breathed, eyes flicking up to drink you in. “You’re a fucking vision.”

“Stop talking and make me—oh.”

Your hips bucked as he slid a finger into you, the friction of his callused skin like a sinful bite you wanted more of. You didn’t know if you vocalised that, or if Eris simply read you well, but he quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out.

“Just as you felt around my cock that night.” He panted. “Squeezing me like that.”

You threaded your fingers through his hair, needing to just…to just grab onto something. He seemed to like it as you pulled, and he thrust his fingers faster in return.

“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” His tongue stroked at you. “And again on my cock.”

Somewhere, some steeled part of you wanted to give a smartass retort. But you were far too gone, splintering into tiny shards of pleasure against that tree. There was nothing, in that moment, besides the sensations Eris Vanserra dragged from between your thighs. No long-lived feuds or tentative alliances or right or wrong.

It was just him. His fingers. His tongue.

And it sent you hurtling right off that blissful cliff edge into release.

As you came, you thought you maybe shouted loud enough to frighten the birds from the trees. Your pleasure was a fearsome force as it stormed your body, your mind, your soul, until you weren’t sure who you’d be without it. How you could survive not experiencing this weightlessness again.

And Eris…he seemed to enjoy your pleasure as much as you did. Even though his cock strained through his breeches, touched by nothing but torturous fabric, his tongue and fingers continued to guide you through your climax, and he peppered in filthy, scandalous words that you were far too fractured to make sense of.

Until he pulled back to look up at you again. “I’ve wanted you since the second I first saw you.” He said.

You weren’t sure you could deny, any longer, that this truly had been going on for that long. It didn’t start with that one night of bad decisions driving you into bed with him. It had been years and years of thinly-veiled threats and barbed words and insults and vitriol soaked in lust.

Every bit of hatred you’d ever directed at each other had been to try and avoid this — giving in to a carnal need that had existed between you since the first ever time your eyes had met.

You knew you didn’t have that strength, that resolve, anymore.

“I need you inside me.” Your voice was rough, raw. You reached down, shamelessly yanking Eris to his feet by the fabric of his jacket, not caring that your desperation showed. “Fuck me.”

You wanted it — him — hot and hard and fast and certainly not gentle. You wanted the bark of the tree biting into you as he pounded you from behind. You wanted him roaring as unguarded as you had.

“You’re a little brat.” Was all he responded. And then he was kissing you again.

You allowed him the control of your lips as your fingers tore at the front buttons on his breeches. Nothing was moving fast enough, and you were hot all over, desperate to feel him pulsing deep inside you—

Y/N. I need you back here.

Rhysand’s voice in your head was akin to be plunged in ice-cold water. Damn daemati. You froze in place, your hands falling still.

Eris didn’t seem to notice as he kissed his way along your jaw.

Y/N. Rhys spoke into your mind again. Get back as soon as you can. Need to discuss Azriel’s report.

You sucked in a breath, planting your hands on Eris’s arms. You pushed him off you. “I have to leave.”

He paused, surprise crossing his face. “What?”

“I can’t — I’m needed back home.” Clarity was dawning on you more and more, paired with guilt. You’d fucked up again. You tried to shake the feeling off as you yanked your underwear and breeches up in one go. “I can’t do this.”

“Seriously?” Eris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now?”

It was an effort not to glance down at the very unsatisfied bulge still pressing through his breeches. “Rhys just spoke into my thoughts. He needs me back.”

“How convenient.”

Of course he didn’t believe you. You had to admit, it didn’t look great — getting an earth-shattering orgasm out of him and then leaving.

But perhaps it was a blessing from the Mother. Perhaps she was stopping you taking it too far a second time.

“Believe what you want.” You pushed past Eris, buttoning your breeches up. “I answer to my High Lord first and foremost.”

“Go running back to him then.” Eris shrugged. And if you weren’t mistaken, you thought that a strange quality lay in his tone. Perhaps hurt, or…or jealousy. “He says jump and you say how high, right?”

“You have your High Lord, Eris,”  you smoothed over the wrinkles in your clothes, “and I have mine.”

He pressed his back against the tree, watching with an unreadable expression as you checked yourself over.

And then the corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “That is a very, very bad idea.”

You winnowed out of there before he could respond.

[sebstanaddict]

Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in The Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes

A/N : Ever wonder what a domestic life with Bucky is like? Well.. celebrating again the upcoming release of Thunderbolts, and inspired by the trailer, I have come up with another one shot featuring Congressman Bucky Barnes. This time doing nothing but domestic stuff which should be boring but when it comes to Bucky Barnes, it becomes hilarious and entertaining XD 

Warning : nothing.. just some physical and possibly slightly emotional pain for Bucky but in an entirely different way XD

Word count : 2.4k

Read more Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan one shots here.

Check out my master list here for more Bucky and Sebastian stories.

---

Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in the Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes  

If you had told James Buchanan Barnes, a hundred-something ex-assassin, part-time Avenger, and full-time national security risk, that he’d one day be a congressman, he probably would've laughed in your face.

Or grunted. He did a lot of grunting back then.

But life has a funny way of handing you things you didn’t ask for - like responsibility, public office, or a very aggressive HOA newsletter from your new neighborhood.

He’d left the world of espionage behind. No more secret missions. No more assassinations. Just town halls, angry emails about potholes, and neighborhood kids who asked if he knew Captain America like he was a Pokemon card.

Sundays, at least, were his.

Just a chill, domestic Sunday. No suits. No voters. No one watching

And so, it started like any other Sunday.

The sun was out. The birds were singing. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone was mowing their lawn entirely too early, probably in the hopes of being assassinated by an ex-assassin turned congressman with a hangover and a questionable moral compass.

Bucky Barnes groaned, his face still buried in a pillow. He could already tell this day was going to be too long for someone who hadn’t even opened both eyes yet.

His bare feet found the floor reluctantly. He shuffled to the bathroom like Frankenstein’s monster after leg day, scratched the side of his scruffy jaw, and glanced in the mirror.

Hair? Chaotic.  

Eyes? Bloodshot.  

Metal arm? Making a weird clicking sound he chose to ignore.  

Mental state? Debatable.

He blinked at his reflection. “Okay,” he muttered. “We’re gonna be a functional adult today.”

—

Step 1: Coffee. Or Die.

The coffee machine in his kitchen sat smug and futuristic on the counter, mocking him with its glowing buttons and unnecessary levels of digital sass. It looked like it had been designed by Tony Stark just to spite him.

“How hard could this be?” he asked aloud, hitting a button labeled Brew Now.

The machine beeped angrily. He jabbed another. Something hissed. A nozzle moved. He jumped back like it had tried to bite him.

After a long moment of blinking lights and robotic whirring, coffee actually came out. Real, brown, hot coffee.

He took a cautious sip.

Promptly scalded his entire tongue.

He glared into the mug like it had betrayed him on a molecular level. “Okay. We’re awake now.”

—

Step 2: Yoga for Idiots and Former Killers

In theory, yoga sounded relaxing. Stretching. Deep breathing. Serenity. All things a war hero in Congress desperately needed.

He rolled out a mat in the living room, started a video titled “Gentle Beginner Yoga for Stiff People and the Chronically Tense”, and tried to copy the perky instructor who chirped things like “Open your heart to the universe!”

Bucky tried to open his heart. Ended up pulling his shoulder.

The “Happy Baby” pose made him feel like a cursed beetle. His legs wobbled. His arm thunked. He ended up on his back, blinking at the ceiling, wondering how far one had to spiral before they pulled a hamstring during child’s pose.

“This is fine,” he grunted. “I fought Thanos. I can handle this.”

The video chirped, “Breathe through the discomfort!”

“Lady, I’ve been doing that since 1943.”

—

Step 3: Laundry (a Shakespearean Tragedy in Three Cycles)

Laundry was next. That seemed safe.

He grabbed every piece of clothing in his hamper - dark socks, white shirts, that suspiciously patriotic boxer brief Sam had gifted him “for morale,” and one very expensive, very soft wool sweater - and shoved it all into the machine.

He paused.

Stared at a red hoodie sitting on top of the pile like a ticking time bomb.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and threw it in.

He hunted for detergent and found a bottle labeled “Lemon Shine Ultra Dish Foam.”

He squinted. “Soap is soap,” he declared with unwarranted confidence, and dumped it in.

The washer started. He walked away.

Five minutes later, bubbles were spilling out like the machine had rabies.

He stood in the hallway, staring at the soapy tide rising slowly across his floor. “This is how I die. Drowned in lemon-scented shame.”

But the true horror hadn’t revealed itself yet.

When the cycle ended, he opened the washer door and immediately knew he had done something irreversible.

Everything was pink.

Bright, shameful, Valentine’s-Day pink.

White shirts? Pink.

Socks? Pink.

Underwear? Flamingo-core.

And his sweater - 

He held it up slowly. It had shrunk to a size that might fit a squirrel. Maybe. If the squirrel was shredded.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no…”

He tugged it over his head anyway.

It clung to his torso like it had personal beef with him, squeezing his ribs like a blood pressure cuff and revealing just enough skin to make him uncomfortable.

He peeled it off with a grunt and hurled it into a corner.

“That’s what I get for trying to self-care.”

—

Step 4: Cleaning With Unchecked Enthusiasm

Bucky turned on his playlist - heavy on Springsteen and vaguely dramatic film scores - and committed to the one task he could do: cleaning.

Wearing only his underpants, socks, white tank top and a white button down shirt unbuttoned (which he told himself was for comfort and not for showing off), he glided across the floor like a low-budget version of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

He vacuumed under the couch. Under the dining table. He vacuumed with vengeance.

Then came the showstopper: he lifted the fridge.

Straight up.

With one arm.

Just to stare down the dust bunnies living in the shadows like they owed him rent.

“You mess with the best,” he growled, sucking them into the vacuum. “You get evicted.”

He flexed his vibranium arm with all the subtlety of a gym bro in an empty mirror.

Then immediately regretted it.

Maybe I should livestream this,” he thought. “Get that TikTok clout. Congressman Cleans.”

He made a note to never say “clout” again.

—

Step 5: Hot Wings (and Crimes Against Cotton)

Feeling like a domestic king, he decided to reward himself with lunch: hot wings. Because nothing said victory like buffalo sauce and burned tastebuds.

He still had the white shirt on.

He still didn’t change.

He should’ve changed.

He didn’t.

The sauce splattered like an abstract painting. One wing launched a projectile that landed squarely on his chest. The bright orange stain bloomed like a nuclear accident.

And somehow - somehow - there was sauce in his vibranium arm. Inside the joints.

He lifted it. It squelched.

“Absolutely not.”

Without hesitation, he removed the arm and marched it to the dishwasher.

“Wash cycle. Heavy duty. Go.”

He closed the door. Pressed start.

The arm clanked ominously.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

—

Step 6: The Lasagna Gamble

Realizing he was still hungry and now armless, Bucky dug a frozen lasagna from the depths of the freezer and shoved it into the oven with all the subtlety of a man abandoning a bad decision.

Timer set. Seemed safe.

He turned away.

—

Step 7: Cleaning Up Buffalo Carnage (One-Handed Edition)

He turned to face the scene of the crime. Hot wing sauce had claimed the kitchen like it was staking territory - on the counter, the walls, the floor, the cabinet handle, somehow the window, and of course, what remained of his dignity.

One arm down, he grabbed a sponge.

Which promptly slipped out of his hand and flopped onto the floor like a resigned fish.

He stared at it. “You’re not better than me.”

He bent to pick it up. Accidentally knocked over the bottle of hot sauce.

More splatter. Bright, blazing orange.

“Okay,” he muttered, digging in. “Let’s do this.”

He managed to smear the sauce around impressively with the sponge, trying to be strategic, but one-armed cleaning meant everything took three times as long and resulted in at least one drawer being opened with his teeth.

A paper towel got stuck to his elbow. The sponge flipped out of his grip and landed in the sink. He knocked a cup over trying to catch it.

He stopped, panting. Glared at the disaster zone.

“This is my villain origin story,” he mumbled, shaking hot sauce off his wrist.

---

Step 8: The Bathroom Adventure - Starring Only One Arm and a Dream

Still stubborn, still sweaty, and somehow still optimistic, Bucky moved to the bathroom.

“How bad can it be?” he muttered as he opened the door.

Answer: very bad. The kind of bad that deserved its own horror movie score. There was a layer of dust on the vent thick enough to support agriculture, ancient toothpaste fossils encrusting the sink, and something suspicious happening behind the toilet that he refused to acknowledge on a spiritual level.

He picked up the mirror spray with his flesh hand like a functional adult - and then immediately knocked it against the faucet. It ricocheted into the sink, bounced off the bowl, and exploded its soapy guts all over his one clean sock.

“Okay. That’s fine. We adapt. We evolve.”

He grabbed a rag and, for reasons known only to the ghosts of his 1940s upbringing, started scrubbing the counter with his forearm while still holding the rag in his hand like a sandwich. It worked, kind of, but mostly just made it look like he was slow-dancing with the vanity.

Then came the mopping.

This should’ve been simple. He had a working hand. He could’ve just… held the mop.

But no. No. He tucked the handle under his arm like he was about to joust a medieval toilet and went at it with the intensity of a man avenging a fallen comrade.

Predictably, he stepped on a puddle he forgot was there, both feet went out from under him like a cartoon, and he slammed his knee on the side of the tub with a thud that shook the shampoo bottles.

He laid there on the tile, staring at the vent he still hadn’t cleaned, one sock soggy, dignity leaking out like grout water.

“This is fine,” he muttered. “I’m thriving.”

---

Step 9: Reunited (And It Feels So Clean)

The dishwasher beeped.

He rose from the bathroom floor like a man reborn.

“Finally,” he muttered, limping into the kitchen.

The dishwasher door creaked open, releasing a warm, lemon-scented fog. His vibranium arm sat inside, sparkling, still slightly steamy, and gleaming like the sword of a freshly bathed knight.

He picked it up, shook off the moisture, and clicked it back into place with a satisfying click.

The fingers flexed and he rotated his arm just because it looked cool.

Bucky grinned. “Let’s finish what we started.”

He looked around at the chaos.

“…After I sit down for like… five minutes.”

 —

Step 9.5: Collapse Dramatically and Pretend You're Not Crying

Arm reattached. Victory claimed. Lemon scent lingering faintly in the air like a trophy.

Bucky stood in the middle of his kitchen, chest heaving from mild exertion and emotional damage. The world was quiet - too quiet - except for the occasional drip of sauce from somewhere behind the toaster.

He slowly backed out of the kitchen, arms at his sides like a war survivor, and fell backwards onto the couch like he’d just taken a sniper shot to the soul.

The cushions let out a whumph. He laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His body ached. His shirt was ruined. His bathroom smelled like cleaning chemicals and defeat. His laundry had undergone a pink renaissance. His only clean sock was still soggy from the sink.

The vibranium arm twitched in agreement.

He sighed so hard it moved the curtain.

“I used to be feared,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Now I fear mop handles.”

He laid there for a while. Long enough to question everything.

Then his eyes tracked up… to the ceiling fan.

A new enemy revealed.

“…Right,” he muttered, sitting up with the resolve of a man preparing for battle. “You’re next.”

---

Step 10: Gravity is a Liar (The Ceiling Fan Incident)

The ceiling fan.. was dusty.

And just out of reach.

He didn’t have a step stool.

So he jumped.

Repeatedly.

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger, current Congressman, was doing vertical leaps in his living room swatting at a ceiling fan with a sock.

It went as expected. He whacked it once, twice, dust exploded everywhere like a mushroom cloud, falling on the carpet and floor he just vacuumed and he fell back on his ass, coughing.

“Cleaning is violence” He muttered.

—

Step 11: Irony (and Actual Irons)

Remembering he had a press conference tomorrow, Bucky grabbed his last clean shirt and started ironing.

He plugged in the iron. Set up the board. Gave the shirt a hopeful pat. Glided the iron over with his vibranium hand - straight onto his flesh fingers.

“SON OF A - !”

He screamed, dropped the iron, hopped around the kitchen. Waved his hand like that would somehow help.

Then - 

Ding dong.

The door creaked open.

There stood his neighbor from 3B. Gorgeous. Leggings. Holding a container.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to bother - could I borrow some sugar?”

Bucky froze.

Burned fingers. Sauce-stained shirt. The iron - still on - resting peacefully on the shirt he’d just been ironing.

They both turned toward it.

It now had a massive, smoking hole.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

Then - 

BEEP.

The oven.

“OH NO.”

He dashed to the kitchen, opened the oven, and was hit with the combined scent of cremated lasagna and shame.

Smoke filled the air. The shirt was ruined. His dignity evaporated.

He stood there, singed, covered in dust and sauce, with lasagna that could be used as a weapon.

It was time to surrender.

---

Bucky: Hey Sam

Sam: Hey Bucky

What did you set on fire

Bucky: Why is that your first question

Sam: Because it’s you

And it’s Sunday

And I feel it in my soul

Bucky: Okay well

I may have overcooked a lasagna

Destroyed a shirt

Turned my underwear pink

Burned my fingers

And also the laundry room is… foamy

Sam: …how foamy

Bucky: Picture a rabid dishwasher with dreams of expansion

Sam: my God

Bucky: Also I put my arm in the dishwasher

Sam: WHAT

Bucky: There was sauce

Inside the elbow joint

I panicked

Sam: You are a federal official

Bucky: A federal official with buffalo-scented prosthetics

Sam: I’m ordering you a pizza

And possibly an adult supervisor

Bucky: Make it pepperoni

And tell the delivery guy not to judge me

Sam: No promises

---

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a normal Sunday in the life of Congressman Bucky Barnes.

Public figure. War hero.  

Domestic menace.

[quitealotofsodapop]

The mixed version would be chaotic but also I can just see Thunder attaching himself to Wukong to finish his development, but not as an egg. Living shadow, he's not strong enough yet to leave Mama's side and so he lives in Wukong's shadow until he can form

Prev.

Omg YES!!!

Wukong finds the "shadows collapsed into newborns" twins first, but hears an odd, distressed cheeping when he tries digging around the Stone Palace for baby things.

He had thought Macaque left behind Two Shadows - one for his theatre supplies, and one for his weapons.

But it seems there was actually a Third - one he had posted outside of his and Wukong's shared nest. And Wukong had been accidentally neglecting this poor third shadow while feeding his dao/life energy to preserve it's siblings.

Wukong, without question, gathers the fading shadow clone into his arms - watching in stunned awe as the darkness bleeds into his own.

The chirping is louder now, coming from behind him.

When Wukong turns, he sees a silhouette of a baby monkey sitting in his shadow. The same shape as the two fully formed cubs on his back and chest.

It seems that where the older pair had "collapsed" into newborn monkeys, the third one needed more time and life energy to finish the job. So now Wukong has a miniature shadow clinging to him for most of S1 and maybe S2.

"Thunder" aka Pili, can't leave Wukong like Rumble (Zaoyin) and Savage (Baolie) can. They literally can't do much besides hug their Mama and absorb life energy until they finish growing. And even then it will be a great feat to convince Wukong's youngest triplet to leave his side!

Wukong likens the sensation to being hugged by a gust of air or piece of silk. The "feeding" process (probably looks like boob-feeding) is pretty draining though, so his magic is pretty depleted at the end of the day.

I'm also now imagining Thunder's big moment where they finally "breaks off" of their Mama's shadow - and everyone reacts like it's baby's first steps. Bonus if its during a big fight scene or capture.

Like when Wukong was webbed up to the Spider Mech with DBK.

Wukong & DBK: (*arguing*) Thunder: (*pops! out of shadow!*) Wukong & DBK: ( 0_0!) Wukong, gasps: "Oh!! My little thunderbolt! You managed to separate from my shadow!! I'm so proud!!" DBK, puzzled: "Wait, since when did you have a child hiding in your shadow?" Wukong: "EHhhh a couple of months, maybe a few years at least." DBK: "But the only person I recall to have such powers is the Macaque-" (*shocked pause*) "..did you and him have cubs!?" Wukong, blushing: "N-no! I just- I poured my dao into his shadow clones, and they sort of... turned into babies!" DBK: (*makes extreme "are you serious?" face*) Wukong: "...OK! That doesn't sound much better. But I couldn't just let his shadows fade away - they're like, the last scraps of him I had of him before..." DBK, sympathetic: "I understand, xiandi. But clearly you realised that by pouring your heavenly life energy into a vessel of dark created by your mate would combine into a whole creature?" Wukong, thinking: "Ohhhhh so that explains why it happened!" DBK: "YOU DIDN'T KNOW!?" Wukong: "I HAD MY HANDS FULL WITH TRIPLETS!" DBK: "IT HAPPENED THRICE!?!" Thunder, confused and scared: (*sad geckering noises*) Wukong, lowers voice: "Oh no, sweetie! I'm not mad at you! Mama is just really stuck right now and he's cranky. i just need to find a way to-" DBK: (*breaks through his and Wukong's bindings to comfort the scared baby*) Wukong, completely stunned as he hugs Thunder: "Thanks!?" DBK, pleased hum: "I'm a father too, you know."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!✨💕

I would like to ask you for an imagine/scenario or character interaction with Crewel and Vil (platonic ofc), where they talk about fashion and everything like the queens they are and they just always have the hottest tea! Talking about the school etc.

It's a casual fic idea without any angst or things like that, maybe somewhere along the way they start talking about Yuu who's Vil's friend, that he has a bit of a crush on? It may start at the Vil's alchemy lesson or smth-

Anyways, the main focus is hot tea between the fashion queens🙏👑 Thank you!💖

This interaction takes place after the events of book 6, so there will be spoilers for that.

I kept the “Vil has a crush on Yuu” element out of this particular interaction since I didn’t find it super relevant 💦 I want the focus of this blog event to be Crewel and his relationships with others. Maybe if the interaction had been posed like Vil coming to Crewel for love advice (since Crewel is a trusted adult for him), it could have fit better. Either that, or I’d advise waiting for more generalized writing requests to open ^^

If he doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will.

“Crewel-sensei.”

He turned at the call of his voice. “Schoenheit.”

Vil, dressed in his labwear, approached. A beaker of a bubbling substance carefully was ferried in his gloved hand, which he offered to his instructor. “The Peddler’s Disguise is done. You may evaluate it for its quality.”

Crewel accepted the potion, gently swirling it to test the viscosity and noting the color.

“It was brewed with mummy dust, black of night, an old hag’s cackle, and a scream of fright. I then churned over high heat with a blast of wind and a thunderbolt.”

"You've memorized the recipe. Excellent work." Crewel set the beaker down on a lab bench and marked off Vil's name on a clipboard. "You're making up for lost time at a record pace."

"Of course. There is no excuse for falling behind," Vil insisted, tossing his blonde hair over one shoulder.

Crewel quirked a brow. "Not even being kidnapped? How strong-minded of you. I was surprised when you came to me asking to hit the ground running with makeup classes upon your return.”

He looked Vil up and down. “You remain put-together for someone who has gone through an event most would consider unsettling. Is it your PR training keeping you cool in the public eye?”

Vil folded his arms. "... If you're trying to be subtle with your worries, then you're doing a poor job of it, sensei.”

"And is there a problem with a teacher having concern for his student?”

“No, not at all.” A smirk flickered onto Vil’s lips. “Then shall we drop the pretenses? Though so bear in mind that I am under a strict NDA, so I can only divulge so many details.”

“Let’s,” Crewel agreed. “I presume you cannot share the bulk of your harrowing experience.”

Vil nodded. “But fortunately, I can tell about the worst of it… The atrocious lack of attention to self care!!”

“Our school uniforms were taken away and we were made to wear the same sterile grey uniforms every day. Threads as thin as hospital gowns, collared like misbehaved mongrels… Why, it was the worst injustice I faced in that facility.

“Not only that, but the air in the enclosure was stale and terribly drying.” Vil patted his cheek and shuddered at the memory. “It wreaked havoc on my skin.

“Worse still was that I was denied access to any skincare products and cosmetics! I was told that they were a safety hazard and to ‘rinse off with water and soap and go bare faced for a while, what are you aggro’ing about’!! Can you believe the GALL?! I was just about ready to let the staff have my wrath.”

Vil paused, taking a breath to calm himself. “… I was only saved thanks to a gaggle of nosy potatoes and a certain huntsman.”

“Speaking of, Hunt caused quite the stir at school when he vanished. Pomefiore was already suffering without its dorm leader and expected its vice dorm leader to step up fill that role in your stead… but with Hunt mysteriously gone, Pomefiore was without anyone in charge.”

“As I rightfully scolded him for.” Vil sighed deeply. "I was informed that Trein-sensei served as acting headmaster while the situation was unfolding. How did he address the issue of Pomefiore's missing leadership?"

"You're looking right at him," Crewel replied with a dry laugh. "I was called in to supervise the dormitory on top of my usual teaching duties. It seems the old man... excuse me, I mean my esteemed colleague, decided to put his faith in his favorite ex-troublemaker. Who was I to deny him?

"For the time Hunt and his rescue squad were away, I stayed at Pomefiore and kept watch over its students. What a mess—there are hardly time for my personal upkeep, nor a moment to steal away and seek the comfort of my beloved dogs... My clothes were horribly creased and my hair unkempt when the news first broke of your return.”

"What a harrowing tale of sacrifice. I apologize for the inconvenience my vice dorm leader imposed on you. He'll be getting another earful from me.”

“Hmph, no need. Though it was an inconvenience at the time, I am glad to see that you’ve come back to us safe snd sound. Perhaps it is not so bad for you pups to act selfishly every now and again.”

“Oh? Careful, Crewel-sensei. We may just take that as the green light to behave even more selfishly.”

“Then I will be there to keep you in line."

"Is that so? I'll be holding you accountable to that promise."

"And I'll be holding you accountable for your dorm's students," Crewel promised with the same ease as Vil.

There was a mutual understanding between them, the same spark set in their eyes. Teacher and student, fashionista and fashionista.

Together, they radiated an overwhelming aura.

[randxmthxughts]

Chosen by Eywa - New Beginnings - Chapter 5

← chapter 4 | chapter 6 →

contains: arranged marriage, mentions of war and grief, angst, one-sided enemies to lovers, slow burn

wc: 5.8k

chosen by eywa masterlist | general avatar masterlist

a/n: see? i promised two chapters within a week and i'm delivering!!! also the next chapter is going to be the finale and i'm so bummed out about it. i feel very connected to this story and planning it from the beginning had brought me lots of peace

For a while, Y/N remained frozen, watching from a distance as the Na’vi surrounded the motionless body of her former love. Neteyam, who felt sick to his stomach just from the mere sight of Kaye, anxiously observed Y/N, waiting for something to happen, though he wasn’t sure what exactly to expect. Any kind of reaction instilled a sense of dread within him; would she ever be able to move on from that? 

Jake had no time to recount the entire situation over the wired comms device. As the Olo’eyktan, he had to explain everything in a hurry to Neteyam, while also soaring through the territory in case anyone else defied the curfew and needed to be protected. But Jake’s voice gave it away - the worry, the guilt he had carried as the chief for such a pointless death. Kaye, who had lost his tracking device earlier, during the surveillance, and had been instructed to just abandon it, opted for sneaking after the curfew and searching for it. Joined by a friend, they landed within the area and continued their search on foot, when a single bullet suddenly found its mark beneath Kaye’s ribcage, tearing right through his left lung. The devilish human, a vile being who had no business lurking the land this late, and who had possessed neither the size nor the strength to bring down a Na’vi, somehow managed a victory. One that he’d boast about to his comrades later. By the time Kaye was hoisted onto the back of his friend's ikran and flown back to camp, it was already too late.

The surrounding Na'vi watched in horror as he drew his final breath, and then he was gone. It shattered Y/N. Her frozen composure suddenly moved, then a loud cry, as if she was in physical pain. A cry that had been suppressed for countless years, ingrained deep within her throat since the tragic day her parents were taken from her. Like an overwhelmingly big wave, desperation, remorse and guilt threatened her with loneliness she could no longer bear. 

The Na'vi pressed closer to Kaye, shielding him from her view, but she surged forward to close that distance. It was as if she believed she could somehow resurrect him, breathe life back into his still form. It was strange and peculiar — how could a woman, bound to another man, suddenly mourn so passionately for a stranger? 

Sobbing, she drew nearer, but hands, one after another, pushed her away from Kaye. Encountered with resistance and hushed pleas to calm down, Y/N only grew more desperate to reach him. Neteyam trailed closely behind her, but refrained from restraining her. Y/N was giving a piece of herself that she had kept closed off for years, as she crumbled before the entire clan. But he could only wait for her to reach for him when she was ready.

Yäyä’s cry was what pierced through the atmosphere then, bringing the crowd to a stillness. Having performed the sacred bond with Kaye and falling for him, his death felt like a nightmare. A nightmare she’d likely have after Kaye’s small but reckless rebellions, fueled by the desire to resist his parents' authority sometimes. As people stepped away, some not quick enough and pushed aside by her determined shoves, Yäyä pressed forward to make her way to her mate.

Through the haze, Y/N watched the unraveling scene and then it suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. It should have been her, not Yäyä. To be bearing the weight of the loss, to forge a connection with Kaye, then ultimately release him back into the embrace of the Great Mother. Tears blurred Y/N's vision as she watched the poor girl kneel beside her beloved's lifeless body, hunching over him as if she was shielding him from the prying gazes of others.

Neteyam gulped down nervously, his hand reaching out to gently grasp Y/N's upper arm. His touch was delicate, so light that she barely registered it. Y/N turned her gaze towards him, her brows furrowing in a pitiful expression, and in that moment he thought he could hear his heart drop at the sight.

“Neteyam,” she whispered weakly, unsure of what exactly she was asking of him, but he understood anyway.

His arms opened instinctively, inviting her into an embrace, and the force with which her body collided with his threatened to knock him off balance. Her face pressed tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, pressing on all of the wounds she was treating just a few moments ago, hurting him but he paid it no mind. She sobbed against him, and with every breath she took, he cradled her head gently, drawing her closer. Y/N’s words came in a blur, and he couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him, but before he could even ask, Kiri appeared next to them, her hands resting on Y/N's back.

“Y/N, let’s get away from here, yeah?”

Kiri and Neteyam shared a knowing look, and he nodded in agreement. Slowly, he began to step back, gently guiding Y/N with him, never releasing his hold on her. Almost instinctively, Y/N's feet followed the movements of his body, as if they were entrained to his every step. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The remainder of the night passed by in a blur. Y/N had barely come to terms with the fact that the man she had once loved was now gone. No matter how much she regretted being with him, being his, no matter how much she hated him, nothing could have outweighed the immense pain she felt at his loss. Even though he had never truly been hers to begin with. The haunting image of Yäyä, broken and fragile, crumbling under the weight of grief, sent shivers down her spine.

Neteyam, who had brought Y/N back home with Kiri, now found himself alone with her. Kiri had promised to check on them later, as her assistance was required with the preparations for the upcoming funeral. Sitting on the ground, Y/N’s back leaned into his chest, the position that would have been awkward in any other circumstance, but now provided a sense of comfort. Y/N was no longer crying, and though Neteyam couldn’t see her face, he could guess that she had calmed down.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning her face to meet his gaze. He furrowed his brows in response, his eyes tracing the trails of dried tears on her cheeks.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I must have caused a scene…" Y/N's voice hitched, her gaze shifting downward as she fidgeted in her seat, "I didn't mean to... to... I'm not his mate... I mean, I just... and right next to Yäyä... I had no right to..."

"The right to grieve?" Neteyam completed her thought, his frown deepening. "Y/N, you have every right to feel pain. You were in love with him."

"I know," she sniffled, "But I wasn't -" another sniffle interrupted her words, "I'm sorry if it causes you any trouble."

"Y/N, I don't care about any of that," he assured her, his voice gentle, soothing like cool water against weary muscles.

Y/N shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. Now that the situation had settled in and she reflected on her actions, she had realized that she took away from the secrecy of their relationship with Kaye. And along with it, she made a cut in Neteyam’s carefully crafted image. Made space for the clan to speculate.

"Look at me," he insisted, gently lifting her chin with a finger, "You have every right to grieve for someone you loved. Nothing else matters."

She nodded weakly, her hand wrapping around his wrist in silent gratitude. Neteyam's eyes roamed across her face, searching for something he couldn't quite articulate. He gulped.

“We are a team, remember? Whether we like it or not, you can rely on me.”

And so, Neteyam stayed by her side throughout the night. He dozed off from time to time, only to awaken and check if she was still peaceful in his embrace. Neteyam wondered if she was truly comfortable in that position. He tried shifting his weight every now and then, attempting to create more space for her, but she’d only grumble in dissatisfaction and cling tighter to his chest.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The loss of Kaye, this time both literal and physical, was more dull rather than acute. Days seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one feeling like a month, and it was only at nights when Y/N felt just a little like herself. Neteyam became her guardian, shielding her fragile bubble from any disruptions, not tolerating even his grandmother, who sought to push Y/N back into her duties. He understood that she needed her time, and he was ready to give her as much as she required, becoming the only consonant in her routine. His heart swelled with a clinging torturous protectiveness towards her that he embraced without hesitation.

Eventually, though it still seemed too soon, Y/N returned back to her duties. The lessons she had missed were especially hard, but she only encouraged the challenge because it helped her take her mind off things. But what distracted her even more, an undeniable part of her recovery, was the man she was promised to. As if Neteyam had effortlessly woven himself into her thoughts, his scent lingered in her home, his gaze on her was so warm, it surpassed the brilliance of a thousand suns. Slowly, but surely, somethin started to bloom inside of her that felt beyond gratitude and loyalty towards him. 

Now more often than out of obligation, their paths continued to intersect, with Neteyam seeking her out in between his breaks under the reasoning of checking on her. Small activities they shared nestled the dearest place in her heart, easing the scars left behind by Kaye's tragic passing. Like a balm for her wounds, Neteyam became everything that she craved.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

All that time, Neteyam feared that Kaye’s death would affect the fragile relationship he had with Y/N, thinking that she would drift further away under the weight of grief. But when she leaned on Neteyam instead, seeking comfort and finding strength in his support, he realized that maybe the roots of their bond had taken deeper than they ever saw coming. And if they survived this, then maybe they could face anything together.

But the newfound confidence quickly wavered with a single announcement. The fear of tying their lives together was mutual, seeped into both of their thoughts. They couldn’t deny the pull they felt for another but the weight of the ceremony, looming over them as an unknown abyss, was too heavy to sustain. 

“You two look like ghosts, what did grandmother say?” Kiri was eager to tease her brother and Y/N, once they walked out of Mo’at’s tent.

Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach at the question, glancing up at Neteyam next to her, who seemed equally anxious, chewing on his bottom lip. Was their bond strong enough to survive such timing? Kiri, tired of waiting, raised her eyebrows to urge them to speak.

“Tsahik has set the day for the ceremony,” Neteyam took a deep sigh before passing the news to his sister, "It will take place in ten days' time, during the next full moon."

“So soon?” Kiri questioned, glancing between her brother and Y/N.

“The bond between two mates is supposed to be sacred, and Eywa has deemed it the right time for our union,” Y/N repeated Mo’at’s words.

Neither of them protested. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I can’t today,” Y/N forced an apologetic smile, “There's so much to prepare for the ceremony. I’m sure you’d -”

“I understand,” Neteyam nodded eagerly to convince her he really did, “I have preparations to make as well.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the interaction had been repeated a few times already over the course of the past few days, ever since Mo’at had declared the date for the blessing of their union as mates. Neteyam backed out of the healing tent with a sheepish smile, but his mind was a mess. He couldn’t understand why she suddenly made him so nervous? The weight of the approaching ceremony fueled his unease every time he saw her now.

To make the matters worse, the vision from his Dream Hunt relentlessly invaded his dreams every night. There she was, the graceful and strong woman standing beside him, holding his hand, haunting his subconscious that was already stirred with the events in his life. The unusually long necklace, adorned with blue feathers and layered twice, hung from her neck, cascading down to her hips. But as his eyes tried tracing her face, it felt like the image of her slipped through his grasp like sand. No matter how hard he tried, her face remained a mystery. He would wake up in the middle of the night, the vision of this woman lingering in his mind, and he would desperately try to recapture the moments, hiding his face in between his knees and squeezing his eyes shut to go back. But his thoughts would invariably drift to his soon-to-be mate.

What was Y/N feeling? There was a whirlwind of emotions, bundled up from the loss, from the gain, from the upcoming unknown. But she wasn’t quite ready to face their depths. So she occupied herself with preparations for the ceremony earnestly, not out of her wish to become Neteyam’s, rather out of desperation to avoid him as much as she could. Seeing him made it all too real, too rushed, so instead she had declared herself to be busy for walks, for talks, for any kind of interaction that’d be long enough to give away her anxiousness. 

To choose and make the ceremonial special mixes, to weave her garments, to prepare a gift for her future mate - everything seemed to be more important, than spending time with Neteyam. But deep down, she was just scared. Of facing the guilt she carried for letting go of Kaye and having her heart beat for Neteyam now. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The night was draped in a blanket of darkness when Neteyam found himself standing outside Y/N’s home, the faint flicker of light from the inside drawing him closer. He hesitated for a moment before nearing the entrance. He wanted to respect this distance between them that she eagerly seeked out but it’s been too difficult. 

The sight of Y/N immediately took his breath away. Under the soft glow of the handmade fluorescent lamps, Y/N was hunching over a piece of unfinished jewelry, her fingers working swiftly, with far more ease than when she worked on mats. The piece resembled a traditional Omatikaya necklace but its intricacy suggested a higher rank than any of their clan members would typically wear. It was as if she had envisioned him wearing it one day, in his rightful place as the Olo'eyktan. Neteyam gulped nervously at the thought.

Y/N, sensing his presence, suddenly looked up from her work, eyes widening in surprise to find him standing there. It had been a while since they had been truly alone together, ever since the announcement of the ceremony.

“Neteyam?” her voice was quiet, “What are you doing here?”

Neteyam cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on the unfinished necklace for a moment.

"I... I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the light and... I wanted to see what you were doing."

Y/N clutched the half-finished necklace, hiding it from his view with a hurry. A small pout settled on her face from his sudden curiosity. 

“It’s not done, stop looking,” she ordered protectively.

“Is it for me?” Neteyam couldn’t resist the prying.

He stepped further, sitting down in front of her and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the piece she was masterfully hiding from him. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement at the childish behavior.

“Seriously, aren’t you going to show it to me?”

“No, it has to be a surprise,” she was a little irritated with his sternness. 

“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow with irony.

“Well, can I see your gift?” Y/N challenged him back.

“No, but -”

“Then I’m not showing you this. It’s not finished yet.”

He smirked, finding the whole banter just amusing and relaxing for the first time in days, but decided not to push it. Deciding to give her a little more space, he leaned back on his palms and watched with a glint in his eyes, as Y/N quickly gathered her supplies away, hiding the necklace as promptly as she could under her working table. 

“Why are you even awake at this hour?”

Her question caused him to falter. It really has slipped his mind to come up with an excuse to invade her space this late at night. 

“I guess… I wanted to check on you. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“We spoke this morning.”

“No, not like that,” Neteyam shook his head, “I mean a real conversation.”

“Yeah, well… we have been busy, it’s not like…” Y/N trailed off guiltily. 

“Not like you were avoiding me?” 

“What? No!” she quickly withdrew from the accusation, though it was a truthful one.

“Come on, Y/N. I can see that you’re dreading to spend time with me. I know this timing for the ceremony is not ideal, but if we just push through this together, instead of doing it alone -” his words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, but Y/N interrupted him, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes widened, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm just nervous," she confessed softly, her hand falling back into her lap.

“You are?”

“Of course, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding me? I haven’t slept in a week!” Neteyam chuckled with relief.

A soft smile stretched Y/N’s lips, and under the soft light, it almost seemed like Neteyam was glowing too, a bright orange warmth radiated from within his chest and spread out all the way to his cheeks. 

“I didn’t know that you had the ability to get nervous,” Y/N couldn't help but tease.

He gave her a lopsided smirk, almost as if he was annoyed but at the same time excited that the feeling of being wrapped up in her comfort had finally returned. 

"Even I can have flaws sometimes," he playfully retorted, earning a playful smack on his chest in response.

He caught her palm in his hand, gently placing it against his chest just above his ribcage, and both of their heartbeats picked up. Y/N looked up at him with tenderness, surprised by the intimate gesture, but it felt more profound than any moment she had ever shared with Kaye. The intensity in Neteyam's eyes mirrored her own emotions, as if he was pleading for something, anything from her. When his eyes fell to her lips, a blush warmed her cheeks, and Y/N cleared her throat. Quickly, Neteyam withdrew his hand, rising to his feet. The air in the room suddenly filled with a hint of awkwardness

"Well, I better go. I have to wake up early tomorrow," he hurriedly explained, "It's... um, a really important mission."

Y/N nodded with slight disappointment, not sure if it was aimed more at him or at herself.

“Good luck, Neteyam.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Neteyam!” Y/N shouted, her eyes fluttering open.

With a ragged breath and cheeks wet from tears, she jumped off of her mat immediately, having just woken up from a vivid nightmare. Her heart pounded at the images of Neteyam going off the mission and never returning. This rotten feeling of something bad happening gripped her stomach, urging her to rush out of her home as soon as her feet could carry her.

It was already an early morning, sun just barely rising from behind the horizon, and Y/N feared she might have been too late. Her steps were fueled by desperation, as she finally made it to Sully's home, ignoring the cold morning air sending shivers down her skin. Before she could proceed further into the pod, Jake, who went unnoticed by the young woman, caught her attention.

“Are you okay, kid?” he raised his eyebrows in response to her flinch, clearly not expecting to be seeing him.

The Olo’eyktan was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the wall, the strange sky people's weapons were laid out in front of him, as he was in the middle of checking every single one before the day ahead. Y/N only nodded, the reality of her actions just settling in, turning her cheeks dark blue from all the embarrassment crashing in. 

“Oel ngati kameie,” she quickly signed to him, bowing her head slightly, “Is Neteyam still home?”

Jake hummed with a slight confusion, still unsure of what the girl had been doing so early in the morning there, clearly distraught. But before he could voice out his response, Neteyam already walked out of the pod, with his mother right behind him. Y/N’s eyes quickly traced the similar weapons adorning both Na’vi, their war paint already on. She caught them just a moment before they were ready to leave, and drew in a small breath of relief.

“Oel ngati kameie,” she gestured quickly to Neytiri, her eyes darting between the woman and her son.

Both were surprised to see her there but the anxiousness plastered over Y/N’s face worried Neteyam. He greeted her back, silently asking for an explanation with his gaze. Just like Jake, Neytiri observed the exchange with a small frown.

“Y/N, is something wrong?” Neteyam urged her gently, his own voice haltering at the sudden fear of rejection.

He went home last night content with their mutual confessions, thinking that they had reached an understanding. But right then, as she stood before him like that, doubts started reappearing in his mind. What if she was there to tell him she wasn’t ready? That she regretted agreeing to the union?

“I have to speak with you right now,” Y/N requested with a stern voice.

“We don’t have time for that, kid,” Jake intervened, as he stood up from his seat, “Once Lo’ak is ready, we’re leaving for the mission.”

Y/N’s eyes darted pleadingly between the three Sully’s. Her hand reached out for Neteyam’s, clinging to him, as she glanced back at Jake, her voice breaking.

“It is very important, please.”

“Jake,” Neytiri finally chimed in, her tone empathetic, “Let them speak.”

The chief shook his head with slight irritation but complied with his mate’s wish anyway. His gaze softened once it landed on their intertwined hands.

“Alright, but only for a minute. I’m serious, Neteyam.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Quickly, Y/N nodded in gratitude to the Olo’eyktan, as she led Neteyam slightly away from them, enough to feel safe in her confession. Her eyes were already tearing up, and she wasn’t really sure why, but Neteyam tensed up immediately, preparing himself to take whatever she was going to throw at him.

"Neteyam, you can't go on this mission. I had a dream, and... you never came back from it. You can't go now," she began to babble, her words rushed and jumbled together.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he frowned, barely managing to get anything out of what she said.

"I saw you in my dream! You got shot and fell from your ikran during the mission. I lost you," she choked, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "Please, you have to listen to me."

“Y/N, I can’t miss out on this mission. It is too important,” Neteyam stepped closer, his voice reassuring her with his gentle tone, “You just had a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

“I can’t lose you too,” a tear streamed down her cheek.

As the first rays of sunrise painted the sky, Neteyam's heart swelled with a love as vast as the forests of Pandora. The sight of her, standing there with tear-filled eyes, pleading for him to stay, stirred something deep within him. He could feel the roots of their connection grow stronger, intertwining with his every fiber. With a tender touch, he wiped her cheek with his palm, then tucked the hair behind her ear. 

“I will be safe, I promise.”

“I can’t let you go.”

“My child,” Neytiri's voice broke the moment, drawing their attention.

Y/N hastily wiped away her eyes, aware that Neytiri had likely overheard their conversation. In the past days, most of Y/N’s time was spent on the preparations, occupying herself with endless options for things that were not as important as just her being ready mentally. But the pressure of perfection weighed even heavier on Y/N under Neytiri's watchful presence. As a Na'vi deeply rooted in tradition and loyalty to their home, Neytiri's opinion held great significance. Y/N couldn't help but feel a nervousness, fearing that her choices would be met with disapproval. Though she didn’t know that Neytiri’s attentiveness was only fueled by the intention of seeking out signs that Y/N and her eldest son were finally growing closer. Now seeing the way Y/N teared up at the mere thought of Neteyam getting hurt had finally satisfied that curiosity. 

“Do not worry about Neteyam, he is a skilled warrior, and he will be safe,” she stepped closer to Y/N, hand reaching out to softly pat her back.

“But the dream -”

“It is only a bad dream,” Neytiri interrupted the small protest, “Kiri has told me about how busy and restless you have been recently. Perhaps even nervous about the nearing of the ceremony? That must have affected your mood.”

Y/N nodded hesitantly at the inquiry. Neytiri offered her an understanding smile.

“You worry too much,” she concluded, “Stay with the girls today. They’ll help you with distractions.”

“Especially Tuk,” Neteyam chimed in with a reassuring smile, “She has been dying to spend time with you anyway.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I made you a necklace!” Tuk's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she jumped up from the ground, eager to present her masterpiece she had been crafting for the past days under the guidance of her mother. 

“Oh, Tuk, you didn’t have to!” Y/N leaned back, a gentle smile gracing her lips, as she observed the young girl.

"She's been eager to welcome you into the family, so," Kiri replied with a smirk, taking a seat next to Y/N, "She even convinced Lo'ak to find these blue feathers for her."

“Hey, don’t spoil it!”

Y/N chuckled at the distraction, but as she waited for Tuk to retreat the necklace, her thoughts drifted back to Neteyam. The Sully’s tent was already filled with darkness, it was way past the sunset and the war party still hasn’t returned from their mission. Y/N sat up straight, her posture tensing up at the thoughts, trying to steady her nervous breaths. The chaos that unfolded from Tuk’s search for the gift somehow brought that panic back into her. Kiri observed her friend with curiosity.

To Kiri, Y/N changed drastically in the past months. The way she carried herself, how she slowly grew more accustomed to the idea of being in an arranged union with Neteyam, her active involvement in the preparations. She seemed like a changed person, better, stronger. And though at first Kiri had written it off as being an aftermath of distracting herself from Kaye’s death, now seeing how anxious Y/N was turning with every minute as she glanced towards the door, it was evident that it was rather the effect of her older brother.

“They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“Hm?” Y/N turned to face her, “It is so late though…”

“But the mission was kind of big and dangerous and they had to be extra careful?” Kiri quirked her eyebrow, a slight irony registering in her voice, “Trust me, they have done this a thousand times. Dad and mom won’t let anything bad happen.”

“Of course, I do not question your parents’ bravery and skill, it is just,” Y/N took a deep sigh, “This dream really messed me up.”

“You refused to believe Tsahik’s vision from Eywa about you and Neteyam but you think a silly nightmare you had is a warning?”

“No,” Y/N blushed deeply at the mention of the vision, then casted her gaze downwards, “I do believe Tsahik now.”

The very idea that Y/N had strongly opposed was now tinged with an unexpected delight. The thought of the Great Mother orchestrating the entire situation to bring her and Neteyam closer together sent such a pleasant shiver down her spine. Thankfully, before Kiri could tease her about the open admittance, Tuk interrupted, kneeling in front of them and placing a string of beads and blue feathers in Y/N's lap.

“Here! Lo’ak said it will be too long but you’re tall, right?” Tuk’s eyes twinkled with excitement.

Y/N couldn't suppress a snort of amusement, grateful for the momentary distraction. She let Tuk place the necklace around her neck in two layers, even though it was still overly long and disproportionate for an adult Na'vi. As Y/N stood up, the feathery necklace cascaded down to her hip bone. But it was surprisingly complimenting her tall frame.

"Well, Tuk, what do you think?" Y/N attempted a half-hearted twirl, earning a genuine laughter from the little girl.

“That looks nice!” a male voice chimed in, and all eyes turned towards the entrance.

It was Jake, walking in with a knowing smile, already recognizing the handiwork of his youngest. Y/N's own smile faded instantly, her heart pounding in her chest as she anxiously scanned the room for a familiar face. One after the other, Neytiri and Lo'ak entered, carrying items, retreated from the mission, but the commotion of Tuk running to her parents and their concerned inquiries to Kiri began to fade into the background. Y/N's eyes locked onto the man she had been worrying about the entire day, and her knees were ready to give out at the mere sight of him.

Neteyam, visibly exhausted and weary, entered the room carrying the remaining weapons they had retrieved. When his eyes met Y/N's, they lit up with a sudden glow. Without hesitation, she leaped towards him, and though his arms were still occupied with unfamiliar items, she wrapped her own around his neck with a sigh of relief.

“Thank Eywa, you’re okay!” Y/N tightened her grasp, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Neteyam, taken aback by the sudden affection, took a brief moment to set aside the items he was carrying and hugged her back. A toothy joyful grin quickly made its way to his face.

"I'm more than okay," he chuckled, his heart melting from the warmth. He almost didn’t even notice the way his family watched the whole interaction with teasing smiles. 

He rolled his eyes at his father, who gave him an approving nod, but couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced in sync with Y/N’s. The lines of worry and exhaustion that had been etched onto his face throughout the heavy mission began to fade away within the comfort of her arms.

“So grandmother was right,” Lo’ak mumbled with sarcasm, though the nature of Y/N’s and Neteyam’s relationship had been predicted by the whole family since a few weeks ago.

“They like each other, right, mom?” Tuk's voice echoed loudly through the room, pulling Neteyam and Y/N back to the present moment. Neytiri, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection, nodded in response to her daughter's question.

Y/N quickly unwrapped herself from Neteyam, an awkwardness finding a way into the air. She gave him a sheepish apologetic smile but his gentle smile in return sent a pleasant warmth to her cheeks. Hastily, she averted her eyes, settling them on the family. 

“Come on, let’s give them some privacy guys,” Jake pretended to be serious about it, but not even he could hide the excitement in his own tone, “We’ll go to Tsahik for a check-up and will be back soon.”

Like toddlers, one after the other, Neytiri rushed her kids out. But all of them still kept those teasing, mischievous expressions on their faces. Even Lo’ak, who had barely shown any interest in the arrangement since its beginning, dealing with his own difficulties with his parents, couldn’t help but snicker at his brother, knowing exactly what he was going to joke about later, when they were alone. On his way out, Jake gave them a final nod.

“Y/N, you’re staying with us tonight, right?”

Awkwardly, she could only nod back.

Once the tent was empty, Y/N took a moment before finally turning around to face Neteyam. He still had that soft look on his face that made it dawn upon her how much she missed him. And that maybe she loved him? 

Simultaneously, Neteyam’s eyes traced her face, then the blue caught his attention and as he took in the obnoxiously long necklace around her neck adorned with big blue feathers, his breath got stuck in his throat. 

“Is that yours?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh, yeah, Tuk gave it to me,” she answered a little confused.

The vision from his Dream Hunt suddenly felt complete - the tall beautiful woman standing next to him, a long necklace hanging low from her neck. It was supposed to be Y/N! The woman he had been obsessed with the idea of, that Eywa herself had chosen for him, wasn't just a mere concept of a destined mate; it was Y/N, standing right beside him.

a/n: pls ignore if this is poorly written, i didn't spend enough time on proofreading this, so?? anyway, prepare for more fluff for the finale :)

finale

♡ taglist ♡ : @kiri-tuk @samiiistarss @afro-hispwriter @iwantjaketosullyme @thexplosivegirl @peachinsomniac @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @koala-wonderland @sakura-onesan @dimplesxx @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @theycallmesia @crazy4books1 @empiricsad @summertimedepression @vihelm @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ducks118 @couragemydearheart @xstarsmvxz @jkeluv @qtkat @marsbars09 @buckysleftarm420 @soleilmoon @blueslxt-primary @kavyaas-world @books-for-summer @tojis-discord-kitten @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @jackiehollanderr @totesnothere04

[beardedmrbean]

Iran has ordered military personnel to leave Yemen, abandoning its Houthi allies as the US escalates an air strike campaign against the rebel group.

A senior Iranian official said the move aimed to avoid direct confrontation with the US if an Iranian soldier was killed.

The official said Iran was also scaling back its strategy of supporting a network of regional proxies to focus on the direct threats from the US instead.

Tehran’s primary concern, the source said, was “Trump and how to deal with him”.

“Every meeting is dominated by discussions about him, and none of the regional groups we previously supported are being discussed,” the source said.

There have been near-daily attacks on the Houthis from the US since group chat messages from senior Trump officials discussing the strikes were leaked to the media last month.

The strikes, which Donald Trump described as “unbelievably successful”, have destroyed important military targets and killed commanders.

A Pentagon spokesman said more warplanes would be sent to the region but did not provide specific details.

However the US’s 124th Fighter Wing announced late last month it was sending “multiple” A-10 Thunderbolt II ground-attack aircraft and 300 airmen to the Middle East.

A Russian military expert in Sanaa, the capital of Yemen, is also believed to be advising the Houthis on how to carry out their attacks while preventing them from targeting Saudi Arabia.

The kingdom has bombarded Houthi forces in Yemen since intervening in its civil war in 2015, and has hosted high-level talks between the US and Russia over a potential ceasefire in Ukraine.

The Houthi rebels have said they have been attacking US warships in the Red Sea, including the aircraft carrier USS Harry S Truman, which has been leading efforts to strike the rebel group.

No ships have been hit yet, but the US Navy said the Houthi fire was the heaviest its sailors have faced since World War II.

The USS Carl Vinson aircraft carrier, currently in Asia, is also on its way to the Middle East to support Truman.

The regime source in Iran said: “The view here is that the Houthis will not be able to survive and are living their final months or even days, so there is no point in keeping them on our list.

“They were part of a chain that relied on Nasrallah [the former secretary-general of Hezbollah] and Assad, and keeping only one part of that chain for the future makes no sense.”

Mr Trump has been ratcheting up pressure on Iran to come to the table and discuss limiting its nuclear programme. Last week Mr Trump moved stealth B-2 bombers to the US-UK Diego Garcia military base in the Chagos Islands.

The US position on Iran and the Middle East has radically shifted since Mr Trump came into power.

Sanam Vakil, director of the Middle East and North Africa programme at the Chatham House International Affairs Think Tank, said the increase in US strikes on Yemen was the Trump administration’s attempt to distance itself from the previous administration.

Joe Biden removed the Houthis’ designation as a terror organisation in 2021 – a decision Mr Trump reversed in January.

“Trump is trying to prove that he is more effective at ending and solving conflicts than the Biden administration was,” said Ms Vakil.

“[The strikes are] connected to the maximum pressure campaign that he has endorsed and he wants to simultaneously send a message to Iran and to the axis of resistance that his administration is going to take a bolder approach to destabilising regional activities.”

Mahmoud Shehrah, a former Yemeni diplomat and current associate fellow at the Chatham House, said the US had a “defensive strategy” against the Houthis during Joe Biden’s time in office.

From Amman, Jordan’s capital city, Mr Shehrah told The Telegraph: “The previous miscalculation about the Houthis in the US had made Trump carry heavier strikes against them now and [the US] have started to target individuals and key actors of them.”

He said weapons the Houthis possess are more sophisticated, which makes them more powerful than other non-state actors in Iran’s proxy groups across the Middle East.

Mr Shehrah added: “After the collapse of Hezbollah and Assad’s regime, the Houthis are now on the front line and they have been conducting very intensive attacks – they are escalating and taking adventure because it makes their political life longer in Yemen, according to their own calculation.”

“They get missiles and drones from Iran and rebrand them with Houthi names because they don’t want to show they have links with Iran because of domestic propaganda.”

Israel’s successes against Hamas and Hezbollah, key nodes in Iran’s network of proxies, have created an opportunity to weaken the Islamic regime’s influence.

Analysts also believe Iran’s failed missile strikes on Israel last year have damaged Iran’s ability to present a credible deterrence against external attacks, and also weakened the morale of its allies.

Israel’s military has destroyed much of Hamas’ infrastructure in Gaza, and inflicted heavy losses on Hezbollah in Lebanon.

Iran also failed to protect Bashar al-Assad, the former Syrian president and a key ally, against a rapid rebel offensive that overthrew the dictator in December.

With Hezbollah’s influence diminished, the Houthis have tried to take its place in leading the fight against Israel.

Since the Hamas-led Oct 7 attacks on Israel in 2023, the Houthis have improved their tactics and missile capabilities and built a strong public image.

They control Sanaa, print money, collect taxes, divert aid, smuggle drugs, sell weapons to terror groups in Africa and disrupt international shipping routes in the Red Sea.

They also have a geographic advantage. Yemen’s mountainous terrain, similar to Afghanistan, helps them hide stockpiles of missiles and drones in caves and underground.

Mr Shehrah said: “They are not experienced like Hezbollah but are more aggressive and more dangerous at the same time – Abdul Malik al-Houthi has an ambition of leading the axis of resistance.

“Yemeni streets are full of anger – the Houthis are not paying salaries and have absolute taxation with zero representation so the social base for the Houthis is not very strong, that’s why they rely on the Gaza war.”

[rindragon-from-twewy]

Mmmm forte swap au brain rot upon ye!

I've already completed designs for everyone at the NDA but I wanna space out the posts a bit cuz I don't think I'd be able to say all I'd want to in just one post!

Ramble about character info below; (+spoilers for all of mdarc)

Obviously this is based on my silly doodles for rain code ship week but I've actually started putting a lot of thought in to this now! (I've had waaaaaaay too much free time recently and I'm blessed with the ability to come up with lore/world building very quickly given enough motivation!)

So first off: Why Storm Cypher? Well cuz it's a protagonist swap! Desuhiko's now the amnesiac trainee being haunted by Shinigami so it made sense in my opinion to make this au's name reflectant of his last name, Thunderbolt. So that's where the 'Storm' comes from. 'Cypher' because it's a form of code and... well I just think it sounds nice basically! I do what I do for my own enjoyment, I don't always need to have a reason - no matter what my teachers say.

Also I decided to change some (Not all) character's last name's to better reflect their newly assigned fortes.

Anyway- It's character info dumping time!!!

Desuhiko, like og Yuma, has absolutely no memory of his past. While his personality remains fairly intact, he boards the Amaterasu Express hoping to figure out who he is along the way. While nobody there knows who he is, he instead finds he have a knack for word-play, puns and pick up lines, leading to accusations of secretly being a circus clown as opposed to a detective. This attitude is only solidified more upon meeting Shinigami, the death god with just as many innuendos to make as he does. They get along almost dangerously well, even more so when he learns she has a humanoid form. After completing the first mystery labyrinth, he decides that being a detective HAS to be his true calling, since solving the case was pretty fun all things considered, and receives his hoodie from The Chief to help keep him dry once arriving in Kanai Ward.

Yuma on the other hand, takes the place of co-star of chapter 2. At first he comes off as cool and charismatic but he breaks down almost immediately at the slightest hint of conflict. He's been a very famous musician for years prior to becoming a master detective, though he finds it hard to fully express himself through anything other then his appearance and music. The anxiety induced from an excess of fans, attention, and not knowing who to trust anymore thanks to his own popularity, he was ecstatic to be scouted by the WDO for his talents in disguises. Once it blossomed into a fully fledged forte and he was allowed to work as a detective properly though... they started regretting hiring him. Chaotic, anti-authoritatian and impossible to track down, he's more of a vigilante then a real detective. He was selected to go to Kanai Ward due to it's predicted high mortality rate, the higher ups hoping to dispose of the troublemaker without being too obvious about it. What does APAB mean you ask? All Peacekeepers Are Bastards!!! The Chief wasn't very happy to see him wearing it but permanent marker is permanent.

I haven't decided if I'll change Shinigami's humanoid design yet. If I do though, it'll probably just be more remenicent of her beta design. I haven't decided if I'll swap the Amaterasu Express detectives either though but... maybe I will. Since its forte swap though, the peacekeepers will all remain the same.

I'm hoping to write a fanfic for this, as opposed to like... a comic. But I'm partial to the idea of maybe doing an ask blog as well? I don't know yet. Either way, I'll probably post more for this tomorrow! <3

[teafangirl]

———————-

Bubble Fun

Reader x Bucky Barnes (From Thunderbolts)

Summary: You somehow got your boyfriend bucky to take a bubble bath. On the contrary, it was actually very easy, but you underestimate how much fun cleaning him would be.

Warnings : really fluffy, chubby Bucky being adorable, mentions of past events, bathtub couple time, Bucky being completely naked but non-sexual nudely. Tension, spice and soft touching. Talk of an orgasm. Pet names , no “Y/N” .

A./N: My friend @soldatshandler and I were chatting about Thunderbolts Bucky and how cute and chubby he looks in the pictures from the movie taller. We also chatted about some fics, and she gave me this fic Idea, so now I am writing it! Oh, gosh thunderbolts Bucky really got my mind going and this is what came out of that. Enjoy, this was a fun one shot to make! Lastly this takes place within the scene where Bucky takes his arm from the dishwasher, so let's say while its in the dishwasher. Also, apologies for any misspellings. I also hope you like how i did Bucky , my friend @soldatshandler helped with that too! The pictures are from the web, the one from the trailer was provided by my friend @soldatshandler , I thank her for giving me this wonderful idea!

—-------------------------------------------

Context

You and Bucky had been a couple since the events of the flag smashers. You had met him at a coffee shop where he was sitting, drinking a cup of hot coffee. Furthermore, you got to know him including his past as his therapist had told him to open up to someone special. For him, you had quickly worked your way into his heart and after the flash smashers were dealt with and Sam had taken up the mantle of Caption America leaving Bucky alone, well not, quite, he has you! You watched as Bucky started letting himself go and started fully relaxing, He let his beautiful hair grow out again, and he let you pamper him he gained a little weight but to you, he was still hot.

—----------------------

One night, you walked into the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes from dinner. You had made food for the both of you, Bucky had eaten the last of the plums he had brought last Sunday when you both had made a trip to the grocery store. While you put away the dishes, Bucky was spread out on the sofa in your living room. As you open the dishwasher, you saw that buckys metal arm was wedged inside.

“Bucky”

You yell from the kitchen, you knew he liked the feel of his metal arm being warm after being warmed up in the dishwasher, but you still hadn't gotten used to it.

“Yes Doll”

You hear him call, then you watch as he gets up from his spot on the sofa and walks over.

“Oh, I see you found my arm!”

Bucky chuckles as he walks close and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You can't help but smile at his touch, you then smile as you return his kiss but onto his cheek.

“ Hay, have you taken a shower yet?”

Bucky looks at you confused, but soon that look is replaced by a playful one

“ Do I already stink, doll?”

You chuckle as you reply.

“No, but I have been thinking, you put your arm in the dishwasher because you like it warm right?”

“ That's right”

He replies as he reaches for his metal arm, but you stop him. You put his arm back into the dishwasher for another cycle so it will be extra warm. Tonight you had something planned, and you had been planning it since Monday! You had been reminiscing about your childhood, when you did warm bobble baths in your bathtub and after explaining yourself you somehow get your boyfriend to let you give him a bubble bath.

“It will be so relaxing, bucky, come on!”

“Gosh, doll, your so good to me!”

Your heart quickens, cheeks blush at your boyfriends words! You kiss him then run to the bathroom and quickly start the water, you make the water hot but not scolding, you want bucky to feel warm, you don't want to burn him. As the water runs and fills up the tub you go to the bathroom closet and pull out, a peppermint bath bomb, body wash, shampoo, condemner, Bath scrubs, wash cloths and bath salt. You are quick to pour some body wash into the water and the bubbles start coming, next you throw the bath bomb and pour bath salt in just as a naked bucky walks into the bathroom.

“Oh wow doll, I can't get out of doing this, can I?”

He says playfully, you chuckle as you pull him into the bathroom and close the door.

“No you can't, when I am done with you, you will smell and feel like heaven!”

“But doll you kinda already do that to me, more than I deserve it really…gosh it smells good in here!”

“Oh buck, you deserve so much, and I want to give you all of it love!”

Now it’s his cheeks that blush up, and it’s adorable when they do! You look him up and down, you can already see his cock, It's already hard. That makes you smile knowing that even without touching you he was still hard, he caught your gaze as he looked at your short shorts and tank top.

“Want me to get in, doll, or do you want to keep looking at me?”

You admire his body for a little longer biting your own lip at how hot he looks even with his chubbness it only made you want to hug him you adknolage, how comfortable you are around him, you smile.

‘Yes, get in, before the water gets cold”

You turn off the water as Bucky walks over to the edge of the tub, and you watch as he slowly slides into the bubbles plus bath bomb plus sea salt mixture you had created for him. You watch as his feet reach the full length of the tub, and he sets his arms on either side. You come over kneeling on the side of the tub as you look at his face.

‘How does it feel?”

“This feels fantastic doll”

He gently slips your hand into the water, it does indeed feel good, plus the fact he’s holding your hand makes you feel just wonderful! When your hand come back up, It's covered in bobbles. You laugh and run your bobble laced finger up Buckys chest and land on his cheek as you bring your mouth to his, and you kiss, unknown to you, your boyfriends wet hand wraps around your back sending a leak of bubbles and water down your body and onto the floor.

“Bucky! You got me wet!”

You shout playfully as your other hand wraps around his head and plays with his hair. While your other hand grabs the shampoo and quickly opens it, pouring some onto buckys hair as he continues to make your back wet.

“Oh darling, you can't be the only one having fun here!”

“Who knew the former Winter Soldier would be so faun to bathe”

You say as you rub the shampoo into his hair. And watch him smirk at your words.

“Are you warm?”

“Yes very, more so with your warm hands running through my hair”

Bucky splashes some water onto you, making you giggle and take in all the water on the floor.

“Oh gosh buck, there's so much water on the floor!’

“Hopefully we won't flood the place doll”

You can't help but laugh as you grab the bottle of conditioner and pour some onto buckys hair.

‘When was the last time you had a bath anyway”

“I don't remember I never really had time for such a thing well except now that I am with you!”

You feel your cheeks go hot red from hearing that, Bucky had told you Hydra didn't take care of him, they barely fed him. Hydra only saw him as a tool, a means to an end, like Zemo did when he had framed bucky. He never had anyone to take care of him, let alone give him bubble baths, until you came along that is. You run your hand down his cheek and kiss him again as you splash water onto his hair. However, he splashes you back, causing you to giggle. After making the bathroom even more of a mess, you are soaking wet and smiling at Bucky who's just watching you like this is the best time of his life, and honestly you're having the best time of your life too. Just being with him is all you ever wanted, the deadliest assassin turned teddy bear ,your teddy bear.

Bucky lets you finish washing his hair, only after getting you a little more wet. You then grab the body wash and pour it all over his body avoiding the spot where his metal arm gose, once the pouring is done you carefully run your hands all over his body rubbing it in, and you can tell he's enjoying the fact you're taking your sweet time doing it. You feel his body, it feels so squishy, so warm thanks to the water. Next, you carefully wash around where his metal arm should go, your tiny fingers dance on his skin. You lean closer to his ear, your face gently up against his wet hair. This all feels so nice to both you and him.

“I Love you, Bucky Barnes!”

“I love you too doll face”

Bucky says as you give him a more passionate kiss on the lips, and he hugs you, almost pulling you into the tub with him. You melt into his touch, his body, his warmth. You want to take off your clothes and get right in, but maybe you should save that for another night!

You give Buckys legs and arms a massage with the bath scrub, and he ends up massaging your arms with his hand while you are doing his legs his feet turn out to be a little ticklish and he starts laughing as you rub them, his laughs make you smile.

“Stop it, bucky, you might make me have an orgasm!”

You playfully state, but this only makes him laugh a little more. In truth, you wernt sure if you already had cum in your shorts or not, but still you didn't care, you and Bucky were having the time of your lives. Who, knew bathing would be so fun! After a little while longer when the water starts feeling room temperature and the bubbles have mostly disappeared or been thrown on the floor, you are sitting beside the edge of the tub soaking wet laughing with bucky and drinking a little wine you had brought to the bathroom for this occasion! Soon you drain the water and help him out, You kiss and hug him before you both separately get dried off and bucky puts on a comfy robe you had brought for him last Christmas. The two of you leave the messy bathroom and retreat to the sofa and snuggle up together, stating you will likely be doing it again soon, maybe! It takes no less than five seconds for you to fall asleep on buckys chest, it's like a pillow, he holds you, his metal arm warm on your body and soon his passes out too. Holding you, tightly against himself, because to Bucky Barnes, you are the love of his life, and he isn't letting you or your bubble baths you give him go!

—The End—-☕️😌

[tweedcola]

The Gardener - Chapter One; We're not off to a great start

This is meant to be set loosely after FATWS but won't be taking into account the events of Thunderbolts. I've never written a series before so I'm looking forward to this! Hope you enjoy x

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: None for this chapter! Stay tuned for smut in later instalments.

There’s someone in his yard.

Bucky’s gotta say, he’s been pretty pleased with his decision to escape from the city so far. He’s been met with the kind of anonymity and dismissal from the small rural town where he’d chosen to lay his roots that he’d been craving for years.

Small-town America doesn’t do strangers and interlopers all that well, and Bucky finds that with a couple of measured stares and his cold-shouldered non-attendance at the neighbourhood’s 4th of July potluck he’s left pretty much to his own devices. He’s been fully moved into his new home for two weeks and has found a haven in the bliss of being alone and being unknown. Until now, that is.

Because now – there’s someone in his yard.

You tug at a particularly stubborn bramble, thankful for your thick gardening gloves to protect you from the burrowing thorns. This sort of weed is such a trial to get rid of, and you’d been dismayed to realise that it had spread under Mr Garcia’s lawn in its entirety. A lawn that you’d spent weeks fertilising and manicuring before you’d noticed the invasion.  You’d definitely made it worse, and you curse yourself as you work, bitching at past-you for her cheerful ignorance.

You give up eventually, grabbing your shears and chopping the weed as close to the root as possible before discarding the limb onto your bonfire pile. It’s not even good for compost – it’ll just spread again. You take a step back and survey your work so far, reminding yourself not to berate past-you too harshly. Really – you’ve done quite a good job in four months.

You’d been dying to get your hands on Mr Garcia’s garden since you’d moved in next door two years ago. You’d admired the towering apple trees, the rows of borders just begging to be filled with colour and life, the perfect angle of the small pond that the sun hit just right in the evenings, creating an almost tropical environment that the local frogs liked to bask beside.

It was a paradise just waiting to be realised and you were determined to be the one to do it. Or at least help. But Mr Garcia was a proud man, and you’d not felt comfortable offering your assistance until the day he’d returned from his daughters’ house with a wheelchair.

“It’s these old bones,” he’d complained to you over the fence that evening. “Can’t rush around like I used to. You enjoy being young pequeña paloma.” And as it turned out, he’d been delighted with your offer, encouraging you to swing by whenever you had the time. He joined you for the first couple of visits, but it wasn’t long before you were letting yourself in the side gate and just getting to work. Sometimes Mr Garcia would notice and call out a hello, and sometimes he wouldn’t. You didn’t really mind much either way, so long as he continued to allow you to work on your project.

Bucky stands stock still in the large kitchen that overlooks his yard. He’s fairly certain that the shadows thrown by the dim light of dusk are concealing him but he’s not going to risk unnecessary movement if he doesn’t have to.

Who the hell are you? What are you doing on his land, in his garden? He’d expected nosy neighbours to a degree, but letting yourself in and pulling up his plants?

The rational voice in the back of his head points out that you’re pulling up weeds, a job that he’d added to his to-do list when he’d moved in and you’re actually saving him the work is drowned out. What if he’d wanted weeds there? Give it a few more weeks and they might have produced blackberries. He grumbles at the perceived loss.

You step back and pause for a moment before reaching for a large shovel and Bucky decides that enough is enough. He’s been watching you for a good few minutes and while he can’t see your face or figure out how old you are, he trusts his instincts when they tell him that at the very least you don’t mean him any physical harm. He stalks forward and slides the glass door aside silently, stepping out into his patio. He can just about hear you muttering to yourself as you work. Definitely no assassin then.

Bucky clears his throat, waiting for you to turn around before he calls a – very sarcastic – “can I help you?” He takes a little pleasure in watching you falter when you turn to face him.

“Hi..?” you call back, a little unsteadily. Bucky watches your hand tighten around the handle of your shovel, your knuckles paling as you clutch the implement. Good. At least you’re not completely clueless then.

You’re interrupted in your work when a voice that decidedly does not belong to your elderly Spanish neighbour calls out, offering his help. You’re sweating at this point, having been turning the earth with your shovel to try to loosen up stubborn roots and so you grip the tool tighter, not wanting it to slip from your clammy palm as you greet the stranger, fighting for your breath.

The man you’re faced with is familiar to you, but you can’t quite place him… Maybe he’s Mr Garcia’s son-in-law?

“Oh, thanks! That’s really kind of you,” you respond, sweeping your hair back away from your face as you look at your surroundings, weighing up the jobs that need doing. “Are you Lucia’s husband? This pile right here could do with being moved into the corner ready to be burned if you wouldn’t mind.” You’re pleased with the prospect of a helper, and you prod at the bundle of weeds at your feet as you shoot your would-be assistant a cheesy smile. It drops from your face almost instantly when you notice that the man is glaring back at you, though he’s not moved to approach you in any way which you’re grateful for.

“Not exactly what I meant,” he responds, with almost a sneer. “Maybe what I should have said is; what are you doing in my back-yard?” He doesn’t offer any further explanation and you find yourself shrinking under his baleful stare, withdrawing into the shell that you’d worked so hard to be free of.

“This – this is Mr Garcia’s yard,” you answer quietly, your voice unintentionally rising at the end so that your statement sounds like a question. He shouldn’t have been able to hear you, but you figure the light, rippling breeze must carry your timid words better than you’d thought as he responds as though you’re standing next to him.

“Not anymore. Mr Garcia moved in with his daughter a month ago. I own the house now.”

God, he’s speaking to you like you’re a child. It’s infuriating, and you find your ire growing. Okay, so yes, it appears that technically you shouldn’t be on this property now, but you’re just trying to be helpful. It’s not like you’re causing any damage! You plant your feet and narrow your eyes at the stranger.

“That was quick,” you say with a healthy dose of suspicion rich in your voice.

He shrugs in response. “I have good lawyers.” He doesn’t offer anything more about the situation. You flounder for a moment, unsure how you can make these circumstances better, certain that you’ve seen him somewhere before, treading tentatively into a position in which you have found yourself trespassing.

It’s lucky he didn’t have a gun, the thought rockets through your mind without conscious effort, he could have shot me.

You seem to have found yourself in a stand-off, neither of you quite sure what your next move should be.

“Well…” you begin, reaching forward for your equipment to gather it into the ratty gym bag you’ve co-opted into a tool carrier. “…I’ll just get out of your hair then.” And text Lucia the second I get home, you think. You can’t believe that Mr Garcia would up and move without even offering you a goodbye. You might not be the closest neighbours, but you’d like to think you’d warrant a ‘farewell.’ Unless something happened, your conscience floats. Maybe Mr Garcia and his family wouldn’t have had thought to notify a distant neighbour and part-time gardener that they were selling if he wasn’t well. And he had been quite frail recently…

The man claiming to have bought Mr Garcia’s house watches you dispassionately as you tidy up your things and trudge to the gate. As you get closer you study him without shame – if he’s going to stare at you, you’re going to make damn well sure you stare right back – taking in the thick leather gloves that coat his hands, his firm, upright stance (a military man?) and the coldness of his shrewd blue eyes. You fight a shiver, despairing at the thought of this man seeing you in any weaker position than he already has done.

His eyes track you as you reach the gate, tugging at the latch and letting the heavy wood swing towards you as you struggle with your tools. A sudden prickling feeling at the back of your neck has your shoulders hunching defensively, and you shoot a look behind you to see that he’s moved much closer. He cocks an eyebrow as you meet his gaze and catches the gate, blocking you from the yard.

You cross the threshold, and as you take a deep inhale to give this cocky asshole a piece of your mind he beats you to it.

“Don’t come back.” The words are uttered at the back of your head before the door swings shut, rattling on its hinges and bouncing against the frame of the gate twice before it settles.

“Yes sir,” you mutter sullenly, as you hear the deadbolt slide into place with a final clunk.

Bucky’s kind of mean in this chapter! He’s just trying to protect his privacy and he’s not sure how to react to pretty trespassers. He’s trying though 💖💖

[tobiasdrake]

I don't understand why the Thunderbolts trailer insists on using Under Pressure for its music. I'm glad several of these characters have been confirmed for Secret War because. Like.

The music makes it sound like Marvel's going to kill these characters off. Like this is the big epic finale to an ongoing series, and all of the Thunderbolts are going to end the movie going out in one final blaze of glory, ending their troubled lives in a grandiose redemption.

You know.

The way they emphasize that one specific part of the song.

THIS IS OUR LAST DANCE

THIS IS OUR LAST DANCE

Sounds like you're planning to kill them all, Marvel. And that would be a weird thing to do since this is the first movie of a new title.

I don't think that's actually the plan. In fact, I'm certain it's not because, again, several of these characters are confirmed for Secret War.

But it's weird, y'all.

[logansgaar]

So I've seen a couple people now say they're not sure why fans are against Bucky being in the senate or think he must be being forced to somehow, considering we've already seen him as the Secretary of State in What If...? and I wanted to explain why I personally would find it extremely out of character if he's willingly a senator in Thunderbolts*

For the sake of ease I'm going to refer to Earth-82111 Bucky as Secretary Bucky and Earth-19999 Bucky as Primary Bucky.

Based on everything we know about Primary Bucky, I don't see how he'd have any reason to WANT to be there and it feels very contradictory to the path they've set him on ever since Civil War.

It all pretty much comes down to the fact that Secretary Bucky and Primary Bucky have led two entirely different lives since the war, around the time there was a divergence in their lives. Their experiences from around the age of 26 onwards have made them into separate people, despite being technically both Bucky. Sebastian Stan's even said he was surprised by his lines as Secretary Bucky because they're so different from the Bucky he's used to playing.

The point of divergence in their lives is of course the train. Secretary Bucky never fell from the train and lost his arm, he was able to be rescued by Captain Carter, so he didn't go through any of the experiences that Primary Bucky has that would make his character detest the idea of being in government.

Secretary Bucky stayed the light-hearted Bucky we met in early CATFA. He never woke up during a horrific surgery to instal a bionic arm where he'd had his real one torn off in the fall, he never experienced decades of torture, brainwashing, forced assassinations and dehumanization. We can't say for sure how much Secretary Bucky knew about Isaiah Bradley and the men of his squadron, but we do know that Primary Bucky knows about them and withheld that information from Steve, which is huge. Primary Bucky knows which governments and organizations (like SHIELD) are corrupt and in what ways, has stood against the American government both as the Winter Soldier and by his own volition, he was framed for an event that led the world to agree on mandatory registering of a specific demographic of people I wonder where he might've seen that before, and has teammates who were kept on the Raft. He saw his own government, the American government, violate their own citizens the way HYDRA did him; injecting them with unknown substances that irreversibly changed their bodies, then punished Isaiah for doing the same thing they hailed Steve as a hero for, and further violated Isaiah by taking his blood without consent and creating more soldiers from him. Primary Bucky was a victim of HYDRA, the clear bad guys, but Isaiah and his brothers-in-arms were victims of the supposed "good guys", and on that fact alone I cannot see any way Primary Bucky is anything other than disgusted and mistrustful of them, if he doesn't outright hate the government. Primary Bucky has also learned a lot from being friends with Sam, how it wasn't Sam's fault for putting down the shield when the government and the country they're in put him in an extremely difficult and impossible situation out of pure racism, about how their country views heroism and its very white standards for it, and how it's not as simple as it was for Steve or John Walker for Sam to have the shield and be Captain America. He saw the US government make one promise to Steve's memory and then immediately disrespect it.

Secretary Bucky seems happy to serve his country and does so by choice, and like I said, we don't know how much he knows about SHIELD's corruption or what the government he serves did to Isaiah and the men of his squad but it's safe to say the different lived experiences he's gone through make him view his government in a positive light and he's very likely never been a number 1 enemy of the state, while Primary Bucky looks completely miserable having to wear that pin during the entire trailer.

Of course you could argue that Primary Bucky has become a senate as a way to try and change things, but the thing is he also knows better than most what goes on in the shadows and I'd say has a very grim perspective on how realistic his chances would be. He's seen and experienced how futile bureaucracy in their world is for making significant change, and idk it just doesn't feel like Bucky's style considering he chose vigilantism over "proper" processes with dealing with HYDRA remnants and the Flag-Smashers.

I'd say it's in character for the Bucky of Earth-82111 to go into politics and end up where he is, he led a completely different life that was never shaped the same way as Bucky from Earth-19999. It feels extremely out of character for Bucky from Earth-19999 to go into politics, echoes of each other or not, their initial 26 years of shared life experiences wouldn't overrule the catastrophic changes 19999's experiences would make to his mind set and opinions because people's loyalties and thoughts change depending on what information they have. Primary Bucky knows and has seen things Senate Bucky has not, so his opinion has been changed and updated from where they were at 26.

80 years is a long time for a lot of deeply impactful things to diverge them further away from each other, even if they all echo one another, regardless of how identical the first quarter was. That's just my opinion.