#they seem kind of normal and respectable

[partywithponies]

Keep seeing posts on twitter like "retweet with your ten favourite ships!" or "retweet with the most recent fic you read!" and I'm there like

[nickythehickey]

can i be honest about something

[mwolf0epsilon]

I have a particular headcanon for how the faces of living engines and other large machines and vehicles work, that I am dying to write one day... Mayhaps if people are interested in discussing such things?

[somegurl8]

That feeling when you see someone you enjoy watching on YouTube play a game you have interest in but they absolutely refuse to engage with the game and it’s very obvious they don’t enjoy the kind of game it is so it makes you question why they’d play it in the first place

[iceclew]

Hey, no worries, but if anything happens to Adder and Janosh, I will find the one guilty and slay all and everyone he knows in front of him, before slowly slicing him piece by piece starting at the toes. 🙂

Also I am cranky cause I can't get my princess out of the castle yet, and that stresses the shit outta me. 🫠 I'd like to enjoy the game please, but I need to have my wife next to me...

[thedreadvampy]

The thing is I am definitely not happy or chill in the Immediate Sense lately but I am, big picture, so fucking happy with the person I am.

It's like. My brain was made by and for consistent trauma and since that trauma stopped about 5-7 years ago, it is incredible what the amount of resilience and cleverness and flexibility and thoughtfulness I developed to survive can do when it's not being all spent on surviving. like I had a hundred ton weight on me so I had to get REALLY STRONG to stay in the same place and not get 100% crushed, and when that weight came off I found I can use the strength it used to take to stand up and I can leap tall buildings in a single bound.

I was talking to my mum the other day and she said, "you've got the 'fuck it' energy at 30 that most women don't find until their fifties at least" and I'm like yeah man. Imagine how unstoppable I'll be in 20 years.

[luminouslollies]

It makes me laugh to think how the two CatCF books take place practically in a single day (from the tour onwards). That's two nights that Charlie goes past his bedtime!

Of course (on that last point), unless the tour had lasted a mere hour or so. What a rip-off, Wonka.

[pynkhues]

I apologize to reach out to you from a side blog I am just not comfortable to do it from my main. I agree with everything you have said so far about louis except the part about how armand is a trophy spouse but that’s a topic for another time.

I think interview with the vampire fans are being incredibly unfair to label any fans of the show who have a different read on louis’s character as antiblack. I agree wholeheartedly that nonblack people especially white people have an innate antiblackness because antiblackness is global and exists in nearly every culture. However there are nonblack people who are dedicated to knowing their place and comforting their antiblackness and are very aware of the antiblack tropes that are often used for black characters in media. However I don’t believe you to be antiblack or any other interview with the vampire fan who has a not-fem read on louis as antiblack either. I have a lot of black friends in the fandom who agree louis is androgynous at best but he is not feminine and neither is he hyper-masculine. He likes being a man and he is attracted to masculinity as a concept and performs it himself just like the other men on the show. There is no canonical confirmation or even clues that louis is gender non conforming or that louis wants to be feminine. This is to say that does not at all mean he is hypermasculine or a dominant sex fiend- he truly is not hypermasculine. I think fans who want everyone to only have a specific fem reading of louis and try to beat everyone else into submission by accusations of antiblackness are doing a lot of damage to this fandom and the well meaning people in it. I have come here from the hamilton fandom and these types of accusations were very normal there and the hamilton fandom for a long time was made fun of by the entire internet for its endless in-fighting over characters and I think iwtv as a fandom is headed for the same fate. It is very saddening and very heartbreaking to see people who have not displayed any abuse apologia like you be accused of abuse apologia and racism. I think louis’s masculine personality makes perfect sense for the time he existed in. During Jim Crow black men were seen as ‘less masculine’ by white men just because they were black. The fandom argues that not viewing Louis as feminine is antiblack but stripping away his masculinity in the time period of Jim Crow is also anti black that is how black men were emasculated by white men back then. It makes sense that louis as a black man in the 1910s and beyond would perform masculinity-not hyper masculinity- because white supremacists took away masculinity from black men to dehumanize them and take away their social power. I believe it’s much more antiblack to ignore the historical time period Louis lives in so you can force a feminine reading on him because that is what aligns with your fetish. A lot of interview with the vampire fans are ‘fujoshis’ who have previously consumed boys love media in which often the ‘bottom’ is feminized because these stories are written by women who aim to feminize the bottom because they either view bottoming as inherently a feminine thing -which is not a progressive social view but a rather conservative one- which is why boys love written by gay men do not fall into these tropes. This of course is not the case for all boys love media but it is a present trope. I wish for iwtv fans to not use inflammatory language to control people who utter a different view of Louis. It is very dangerous to try to beat everyone who views Louis differently-and not in a racist way either- into submission by accusing them of racism when they prove to be well educated on racial matters like you have. I want everyone especially that user who replied to you calling you a white supremacist to know that you are being dishonest with your intentions. You are just angry people are able to see Louis as the actual version he is on screen and not as the fanonized version. Please stop this latent form of violence and abuse which is accusing everyone of being racist and please look inwards yourself as to why you wish to control how other people think of Louis especially people who are not racist and do not box Louis into racist tropes and readings. Please stop this harassment

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, these were both really insightful and interesting reads, and I really appreciate you taking the time to send them.

[f1owermoon]

sorry i just. need to rant for a second

[slythereen]

i think ppl mad about the cheerleaders are forgetting that this is america btw. like genuinely cheerleaders are a pretty big part of american sports and i thought it was fun that they got the dallas mfing cowboys (& i think houston’s) to be a part of the show? yes they are athletes but… part of their job is, quite literally, cheering at sports? and they are happy to do so? because it’s their job and they are beloved for it? idk seems like outrage could be more productively pointed elsewhere

[dulcewrites]

Ngl some of the asks y’all send me about hotd or even f&b just have me staring at my screen like ‘…. What am I supposed to say’ lmao

[suilesbian]

ok so you acknowledge that fatness isn’t inherently unhealthy. health at every size, fat athletes exist, etc etc.

but are you normal about fat people who ARE unhealthy? do you still respect us? do you still advocate for our access to healthcare? do you still see us as valuable?

are you normal about people whose fatness is due to disability?

are you normal about people whose fatness is just due to lifestyle—those of us whose fatness is, actually, “Our Own Fault”?

it seems to me that “you can be healthy at any weight” is kind of like “curb cuts also benefit moms with strollers”—it’s true, and worth pointing out, but it’s stopping short of actually advocating for the people whom the conversation is actually ABOUT.

curb cuts ARE useful for many kinds of people, but they’re NEEDED for wheelchair and mobility aid users. you CAN be fat and healthy, but that’s not WHY you should treat fat people with respect. fatphobia/misia is bad because we’re human fucking beings with the same rights and needs as thin people, not because some of us meet an arbitrary benchmark of “healthy”.

consider your attitudes toward ALL fat people, not just the “good”/palatable/healthy ones. it’s natural to have these kinds of unconscious biases, but that’s exactly why it’s so important to examine and rethink them.

[babybluebanshee]

Someone pointed out that a lot of recent films that previously focused on the importance of found family (Lilo and stitch is the most recent, but they also mentioned Frozen, Wreck It Ralph, and Toy Story, plus HTTYD in the tags) have had that messaging undone by their sequels and remakes. And if I were more conspiracy brained, I would point out how found family narratives are very important to queer people, who’re often rejected or mistreated by their biological families, because it reminds them that there is a place for them in the world. That even if some or all of their blood relatives won’t have them, someone out there will gladly welcome them into their family of choice. It’s been foundational to the queer experience for centuries and so much media that’s beloved by queer people (whether openly queer or merely coded) focuses on it. And how in a social and political time when backlash against queer people is reaching a fever pitch, the emphasis on “actually no, these people who were shunned, mistreated, and isolated for being different and came together to be happy anyway should split up without even a thought to the people who have loved and welcomed them and made them feel safe and accepted for the first time. They should all have normal dreams and want to live respectable, individualist lives and have socially acceptable careers and get married and have children, and the ones who want them all to stay together are explicitly shown to be wrong and holding the others back.” is actually kind of nefarious, especially with Disney’s current very, very, very bad erasure of queer themes and characters along with the revelation of their support of Florida’s don’t say gay bill. Given all that, this would all seem very concerning to me. Good thing I’m not conspiracy brained tho.

[plethorawrites]

So, we all know Jason Todd would spoil the hell out of you, right? He'd know every detail, remember every important date, always do anything to make you feel special and wanted. The compliments would never stop, the random gifts always showed up, the physical affection never dwindled.

You loved it and he loved that you loved it.

But it was so normal (not to say it went unappreciated) that you almost didn't realize how lacking your own gestures were. Jason doesn't notice either, obviously.

However, he certainly starts to when instead of blowing a kiss to him from the couch when he leaves or comes home, you start getting up and draping your arms around him, kissing his cheek and lips. He'd never fault you for falling asleep when he's out on patrol in the middle of the night but feels a sense of warmth wash over him when you start leaving notes on his side of the bed telling him you missed him, or hope he was safe.

(+Bonus points if you told him his favorite food was waiting in the kitchen if he was hungry.)

You always match his energy when it comes to physical affection, holding him right back when he wraps his arms around you from behind or wrapping your legs around him while he holds you during the night, but realizing you almost never initiate it makes you reevaluate.

He notices, obviously, when you start asking him to join you in the shower or begin tugging him into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs and you can play with his hair. When you start smoothing out the few wrinkles on his shirt for him, or kissing his shoulder from behind while he works, sliding him a snack and telling him to eat.

It eventually all comes to a head when he's reading and you randomly start massaging his shoulders out of nowhere. Not that it doesn't feel good, because he always loves your soft hands on him, but he starts asking why you've been so affectionate lately you have no choice but to admit that you feel like you've been taking advantage of him.

"I never seem to give you the same kind of attention you give me," you confess, your hands softly kneading at the knots in his neck as he reads.

His head turns, one of his hands covering yours to get you to stop. "Is that what you think?" He asks, his voice much quieter, almost disappointed when you nod. He sets his book down on the table, dragging you around the chair and into his lap. "I give you attention because I like to," he explains, stroking your hair. "I don't need you to fawn over my every move."

You were his partner, not his parent. He didn't need to be watched over or fed and worried about to the extent you'd started leaning into. He needed your love, your support, your respect. Your honesty, kindness, compassion. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses. You, as you. His best friend and the love of his life.

Your lips pull into a tight line, arms wrapping around his neck. "You don't feel neglected?"

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "No," he states. "Never. I feel grateful as hell that you love me despite my past." He fusses with your hair for another moment before cupping your face. "I like showing you how much you mean to me."

You press your forehead against his. "I just don't ever want you to think you don't mean the same to me," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always had a similar problem to him, struggling to accept love, let alone show it. He knew that.

His lips pull into a small smile. "I know. Believe me I know," he replies. "You don't need to follow me to the door every day or rub my shoulders for me to know you love me." He pauses for a moment, his voice getting a bit more playful. "But if you want to keep inviting me into the shower I won't complain."

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere academic rival who really, really wishes he could just get you out of the way.

Dead dove Do Not Eat! MDNI ! NSFW !

Tw. Dubcon/Noncon, bullying, academic pressures, blackmail, oral sex, explicit photos, mentions of baby trapping, yandere, stalking, forced relationship, AFAB reader

Elias had a certain level of respect for you.

You both attended a prestigious university crammed full of students vying to make connections and nab a cushy position for themselves in the future, and while it was easy for him to be on top of the social and academic scenes, he knew you had to work a bit harder. He came from a very wealthy household, one where needing something was merely a concept and not something he ever actually encountered. You, on the other hand, definitely come from a lesser background than him and his circle. Your scholarship and just above the average academics seemed to have pushed you into a good spot to be hoisted into the same realm as him.

But he didn't really think of you much at first.

You were some nameless face that wasn't really worthy of being around him. Maybe he would catch glimpses of your hair, or someone woud mention you in passing and he'd pretend to be intruiged.

It was really when you started to be compared to him of all people that he started to really pay attention.

You were smart, cunning, and ruthless when it came to your assignments. Just like him. Normally he worked overtime, paid industry professionals to help review his papers, his study materials and poured blood sweat and tears into his academics. And yet you somehow managed to be on his level with less than half the resources. It drove him up a wall because if you were nearly as good as him now, then what could you be like if you had the chance?

Elias was like a man obsessed after your sudden, explosive rise in the minds of professors and lecturers alike. He spent hours studying, shirking his friends and other responsibilities just to make sure he was still better than you, to keep you in your place.

He started to focus in more on your personal life, too.

Where on earth did you come from? He's half convinced that you were genetically designed in a lab to piss him off. But the more he glares at the back of your head when you're not looking, the more he's transfixed. You're like a black hole, or some kind of other abyss like metaphor. Fuck, you had him writing poetry in his head. He hated poetry. He hated you. Or at least, he would really like to hate you, but he couldn't. You had the same amount of drive as him, maybe even a little more. No matter what he did, he was forced to acknowledge you, forced to be aware of every twitch of your hand or every flutter of your eyelids. To him, you were something that demanded attention, even if it was taken from him through gritted teeth.

The only reprieve from his spiraling was the fact that you felt the same way about him. He liked to imagine that you were just as obsessed with him, sitting there in the late hours of the night writing down equations with him as your sole motivator.

But then he finds out that he's not even occupying your mind, and he loses his shit.

"Oh Elias? Yeah I guess he's fine. Huh? Rivals? What the- no way I just want good grades. He has nothing to do with it haha."

You just said it in passing when someone teased you about it, and he knew that he shouldn't linger on your words for too long. If anything, it should make him feel better. You had nothing against him, so it meant everything was fine, right? Wrong. It was so wrong.

Elias was seething, nearly throwing a tantrum. How could you not even think about him. Him! You were some piddling, pathetic excuse for a human being, and you had the audacity to not even regard him when he spent nearly every waking moment thinking about you.

He was fine just watching you from the corner of his eye. He was fine knowing that on some level, the two of you had a respectable if not distant relationship. Just because in some aspect, he wanted a piece of you all to himself. And if you weren't going to let him just have a little bit of your life, your passion, your drive, he would just take all of you instead.

He follows you into the library late one night. You're sitting there, glowing in the warmth of the nearest lamp while your pen makes soft scratching noises against the paper. You look pretty. You've always looked pretty to him. You don't notice him as he approaches, and he feels any vestiges of doubt or restraint float away. Even now, as he loomed over you, you didn't even spare him a glance.

The library was empty. He made sure it was so before hand, and he's glad he did. The quite air was shattered by the sound of him shoving you over the priceless lacquered wood desk. Your eyes go wide as you take him in, and his hands fly up to your throat.

"Augh! What are you-?"

"Shut up." He hisses and narrows his gaze. Your pulse is racing underneath his fingers, and he has half a mind not to crush your windpipe into oblivion so that he can be the last one to feel it. "You have no idea," He mutters and leans in close. Your frightened breath ghosts over his skin, and he shudders. Now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's ever been so close to you. It feels so right. He never wants to be away from you again. Not when you look so damn alluring with tears rolling down your cheeks and your clothes rumpled on the floor by his feet.

He wants you like this always, with your twitching cunt stuffed full of his fingers and your cries filling his ears. Soft, wet squelching noises met each of his ministrations, and a cruel, wonder filled grin spread across his face.

"You have no idea how much you've driven me wild," He laughs. It's a sharp sound that grates on your ears. "How much you infuriate me," Each word is punctured by a thrust, by a curling motion that has you gasping and seeing stars.

If this is what he has to do so that you notice him, so you will just fucking care about his existence more than you would any other speck of dust on the street, then so be it.

It only gets worse from there.

Elias takes photos of you. So many. Ones of your crying face, ones of your leaking pussy, some of him shoving his dick past your puffy lips. Once the camera shuttered and they were in his hands, it was all over.

He played the role of your boyfriend after that.

There wasn't a moment where he wasn't hovering over your shoulder, whispering threats into your ears. He gets you to start doing worse in your classes and on your assignments, and for once, he's happy. He finally has your eyes on him, and if you ever try to leave him or say anything, then he'll make sure you can never show your face around here again. Don't worry, though. He's kind enough to keep it so you won't fail outright. In fact, he'll just slip some money to some of the professors so you don't have to do anything other than sit on his lap and pay attention to him while he actually works for the top spot.

Elias takes you out on fancy dates as if it's any way to soothe the sting of having your life ruined. He pays for everything and practically preens under the feeling of finally getting what he wants. He's such a brat, and he doesn't even care about hiding it when he's with you. Part of the reason why he likes you is he can be his nasty, awful and conniving self and you have no choice but to accept it. He doesn't mind if you're reluctant or stubborn. In fact, he kind of likes it because in the end, you still gave in to have a chance to graduate from a prestigious school. And plus, now you're living the high life with him! It's kind of a win win if you think about it.

He loves having you sit on your knees (a cushion underneath them of course. He wouldn't want you to ever actually get hurt) and taking his cock in your mouth while he studies. You look so cute like that, with your eyes all narrowed in mildly hidden frustration, and he loves it even more when he thrusts into your throat. You always make these little spluttering noises that just drive him wild, and he clamps his thighs around your head to keep you there.

Elias who soon becomes the university's beloved model student. He's not going to let anyone get in his way ever again, especially not after he has you to provide for now. After all, he's got plans for you. Once he manages to put a baby in you, he'll know that your future family is secured, and he's got to support all of you. There's no way he can fail now!

[ilovolderman]

Movie Night

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to gather proof of your secret relationship with Bucky during a movie night.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, sam losing his mind, one shared blanket

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson was back on his BS.

Not because he wanted to be. No. He had to be. This was about justice. About truth. About the undeniable, unquantifiable, deeply suspicious sense that you and Bucky Barnes were absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent... up to something.

He didn’t have hard evidence. He didn’t even have medium evidence. What he had was vibes.

And the vibes? They were criminal.

It all started on a Wednesday.

The group had planned a “Chill Movie Night.”

Sam arrived early, armed with snacks, a color-coded emotional tracking spreadsheet, and a high-end mood ring that Tony insisted was “useless but fun.”

Everything seemed normal. Steve was fluffing pillows like a dad trying to avoid confrontation. Peter was arguing with the popcorn machine. Natasha was already asleep on the couch. (Open-eyed, somehow. Very concerning.) Tony was making a cocktail out of four liquids that were definitely not FDA-approved.

And then you walked in.

Sam’s eye twitched.

Behind you, Bucky entered. Smirking. Carrying your favorite takeout like some kind of emotionally supportive boyfriend ninja.

“Hey, guys,” you said sweetly, flopping onto the couch. Bucky sat beside you, a respectable distance away.

Until Sam blinked.

And suddenly, somehow, your knees were touching.

EXHIBIT Q. KNEE TREASON.

Sam clutched his soda like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality.

The movie choice? A romcom. Obviously. The plot? Two idiots pretending not to be in love. The irony? Painful.

Sam watched you both. Not the movie. You giggled during the fake-dating scene. Bucky smirked.

Your eyes met for exactly 1.3 seconds. You looked away like your life depended on it.

Sam scribbled in his notes. Tony leaned in, whispering, “Are you actually watching the movie or doing telepathy?”

“I’m watching a conspiracy unfold in real time,” Sam whispered back. “...Of course you are.”

On screen, the protagonists shared a dramatic, rain-soaked kiss. On the couch, Bucky passed you a napkin. You took it without looking. No words. No thank you.

EXHIBIT R. EMPATHETIC NAPKIN TRANSFER.

Sam wrote “co-dependent, probably share a soul.” in his notes.

It got worse. At some point  Peter complained about the cold. Tony threatened to install a fireplace. Someone, probably Steve, bless his Midwestern heart, tossed a blanket over the couch. You grabbed one end. Bucky took the other.

Normal. Harmless. Unremarkable.

Until Sam realized there was only one blanket.

And two people under it.

A suspicious amount of shoulder contact was happening beneath that polyester monstrosity. Too much shared body heat. Too much calm.

Sam squinted. “Why are they always so synchronized?” Steve, confused: “Who?” Sam: “The blanket goblins.” Steve: “...Are you okay?” Sam: “NO.”

The movie played on in the background, but you and Bucky were no longer paying attention. Instead, you two were quietly leaning into each other, aware of Sam's eagle-eyed attention from across the room. The couch creaked as Bucky shifted slightly closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"Do you think Sam's lost it yet?" you whispered, voice low, just enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky grinned, but didn’t look away from the screen. "Oh, he’s spiraling. I can feel his brain cells popping one by one."

You let out a tiny snort, trying to hold back the giggle that was threatening to escape. “He's so obvious. He keeps glancing over every two seconds. Should we give him a little more to work with?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips curling in a barely contained smirk. “You want to really mess with him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should let him stew for a bit longer.” You shot a playful glance at Sam, who was practically glaring at you two from behind his soda. "He’s getting all worked up for nothing."

Bucky leaned in a little closer, his breath warm on your ear as he whispered, “Let’s make him regret not having a seat next to us.”

He shifted slightly, just enough that your knees brushed against each other. The small touch seemed so innocent to anyone else, but Sam’s narrowed eyes locked onto the subtle movement, his hand hovering over his notebook like a hawk waiting to strike.

Your lips quirked into a mischievous smile. You did your best to make it look like a completely natural movement as you accidentally rested your head against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky, of course, played along beautifully, his arm casually draping over the back of the couch behind you, so close that your bodies were practically melting into each other.

“You okay?” he asked in the most nonchalant tone, but the teasing glint in his eyes was hard to miss.

You blinked, putting on your best innocent face. “Oh, yeah. Just—just—getting comfy.” Your hand brushed against his as you adjusted yourself, and you quickly squeezed his fingers once before letting them fall.

Your eyes flicked over to Sam, who was visibly straining to stay calm, his hand twitching over his notebook like it was a lifeline. You could practically hear his thoughts racing: This is it. This is definitely it. They're in on it.

You smiled sweetly, letting your voice drop to an exaggerated whisper. “I think I might be too comfortable.”

Bucky’s smirk widened, and before Sam could even react, he casually pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and gently brushed his fingertips against your knee. The slightest contact. Barely a touch.

Sam’s eyes narrowed so sharply that it looked like his face might implode. He scribbled something aggressively in his notebook. You could almost hear the frantic ticking of his mental clock. *Evidence: They are physically close. Touch. Note: Is this normal?

You stifled a laugh, shifting just a little to let your body lean more into Bucky. “You know,” you said, voice syrupy sweet, “I could really get used to this.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shifting just enough that his shoulder brushed against yours, and his hand accidentally found its way to your lower back. “Well, lucky for you,” he said with mock sincerity, “I’m just that kind of guy. Always happy to offer some… support.”

You grinned, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. Instead, you pressed your palm into his chest, just enough for the world to think it was a casual adjustment. But oh, you knew. You knew what was happening.

Sam was now glaring at you both with a level of intensity that could melt steel.

Bucky turned his head toward you, but just enough so Sam could definitely see. He made eye contact, and his lips curved into a teasing grin, one that said, I know you’re watching.

You raised your eyebrows in challenge and tilted your head as if asking, What are you going to do about it, Sam?

You caught a glimpse of his expression, then leaned closer to Bucky. “I swear he’s about to pull out a flowchart,” you whispered, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Let him. He’ll need it for all this groundbreaking evidence.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

You and Bucky both leaned back, relaxing into each other, casually oblivious to the total chaos you were unleashing. Sam sat back down, utterly defeated, furiously scribbling in his notebook. He couldn’t even look at the screen anymore.

Then, the movie ended. The lights came on. You yawned. Bucky stretched.

And Sam watched in horror as Bucky casually — casually! — helped you into your jacket like it was 1952 and you were going steady after a sock hop.

You whispered something to him. He grinned. Then you both said you were leaving at the same time, but separately.

Bucky went out the back. You left through the front.

Sam looked at Natasha.

“Did you see that?” She didn’t even open her eyes. “Nope.” “Lies.” “You need a nap.” “I need the TRUTH.”

Tony sipped his weird drink. “I give it another week before they start sharing shoes.”

Peter, from the kitchen: “Wait, do they not already?”

Sam screamed into the void.

Later that night the rooftop was quiet, blanketed in the soft hush of city sounds far below. A gentle breeze tugged at the edge of the blanket draped over your shoulders as you curled into your usual corner, legs tucked beneath you. Fairy lights flickered lazily overhead, casting warm glows over Bucky’s face as he joined you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

He handed one “Cheers to another successful psychological operation,” you said, clinking the mugs.

“To Operation: Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlfriend,” Bucky replied solemnly, taking a sip. He immediately burned his tongue and winced.

You giggled, taking a much more careful sip. “You know Sam’s going to start cross-referencing our foot placement on the couch with moon phases, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bucky said. “I bet he’s already got a red string board with little thumbtacks that spell ‘LIES.’”

You leaned into him with a contented sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “We are going to hell.”

“Matching outfits,” he said. “I already ordered the shirts.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “Bucky.”

He just smiled, wide and soft and unguarded in the dim rooftop light, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side like you belonged there—and honestly, you did.

A beat of silence passed. The kind that wasn’t awkward. The kind that felt like a warm exhale, like a secret just between the two of you.

You smiled into your mug, letting the words settle. The city shimmered below you. The stars above blinked like they were in on the secret too.

“I like it up here,” you murmured.

“I like you up here,” Bucky replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, right at your temple, like he was memorizing the shape of your joy.

You turned your face toward him, bumping noses a little in that silly, clumsy way that always made him smile. “You’re being very sweet. Should I be worried?”

He shrugged. “Just making sure you know.”

“That you like me?”

“That I’m crazy about you,” he said, and then, quieter: “Even when you’re fake flirting with me to drive Sam to madness.”

You grinned. “Oh, babe. That’s not fake.”

Bucky blinked, then broke into a grin so dopey and full of love it made your chest ache.

You clinked your mugs together again, just because.

Meanwhile Sam was crouched on the roof of a building, squinting through a comically long-lensed pair of binoculars that Tony swore were “state-of-the-art.”

They were not.

They were the opposite of helpful.

They had a cracked lens, fog on the inside, and occasionally made a sad whining sound like they missed retirement.

Still, Sam stared across the distance with the desperate determination of a man on the brink.

Through the foggy lens, he saw… two tiny blobs.

Two indistinct, cozy-looking blobs huddled on the rooftop of Avengers Tower, gently illuminated by twinkle lights that only added insult to injury.

He couldn’t see their faces. He couldn’t read lips. He couldn’t tell which blob was Bucky and which was you.

“Come on, do something,” Sam muttered, adjusting the focus knob. Nothing changed. He flipped it the other way. The blobs got blurrier.

He smacked the side of the binoculars.

They shut off.

He swore loudly and rebooted them.

Inside his earpiece, FRIDAY chimed in, unbothered: “Would you like me to send a drone for closer surveillance?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “No. That’s what they want. Then they’ll know I’m watching.”

“They already know you’re watching.”

“I have to catch them, FRIDAY. Not just feel it in my soul.”

Another blob shifted.

Sam gasped. “Movement. MOVEMENT.” He turned the dial again. Still nothing but murky shadow-people. “Are they... hugging? Is that a hug? Or... is one of them standing up? Oh my god, is Bucky proposing?!”

A long pause. Then, FRIDAY dryly: “Sir. They are literally just drinking cocoa.”

Sam groaned and flopped backward onto the gravel roof, his limbs starfished dramatically like a war hero brought low by cuddle-based crimes.

“This is torture,” he moaned. “I’m three buildings away, I’ve got frostbite on my kneecaps, and I’m watching two potato blobs make suspiciously synchronized cocoa movements.”

“Shall I remind you,” FRIDAY said gently, “that you volunteered for this?”

“I VOLUNTEERED FOR TRUTH. AND JUSTICE. AND—” Sam sat up suddenly. “Wait. Are they... did that blob just touch the other blob’s blob-arm?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Oh god,” he whispered. “They’re holding hands. I feel it.”

“Or one of them is adjusting a blanket.”

Sam made a noise like a teakettle dying. “It’s the vibes, FRIDAY. I am being spiritually attacked.”

A car honked below. Sam yelped and dropped the binoculars. They hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled off the edge of the building with a dramatic clatter that absolutely ruined the "stealth" part of the mission.

Sam stared at the edge.

Then at the sky.

Then at his empty hands.

“FRIDAY, I’ve lost visual.”

There was a beat.

“Sir, you never had it.”

Back at Avengers Tower, on the actual rooftop you snuggled closer to Bucky, sipping your hot chocolate, utterly unaware of the storm raging in a man's soul several rooftops away.

Actually, no—you were very aware.

You nudged Bucky. “Wanna bet where Sam is right now trying to spy on us?”

Bucky grinned. “Roof of that tall brick building with the busted vent.”

You blinked. “How do you know?”

“I waved at him like ten minutes ago.”

next part

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