#they want to be with people and have purpose

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ losing your virginity with bsf!rafe.

warnings — 18+. MDNI. reader losing virginity, lots & lots of praise.

cherie's note — this one needs a disclaimer i think; for the purpose of the work, i mentioned something along the lines of people who wait until after college being losers — i want to preface i do not think this way, but believe rafe and his best friend would definitely talk something like this. it's all make-believe!

you couldn't remember how the conversation had even started. maybe it was the ambiance — the television humming with that faint cool blue glow, whatever rafe had thrown on half-watched and long forgotten, a half-smoked blunt tutting between the two of you for the past couple of hours. somewhere along the way — you couldn't quite remember when — you'd let it slip.

you had never done anything. with anyone.

not that it was a big deal — it wasn't. but it was surprising, especially for rafe. the same rafe known for his reckless hookups and casually cruel behavior, who'd experienced it all years ago. he'd always assumed you had too, and never told him.

but as soon as you'd mumbled something about not wanting to be one of those losers who waited until after college to have any sort of sexual experience, the idea popped into his head like a fucking lightbulb — clear, bright, and impossible to ignore.

"what if i did it with you?"

maybe that's where it really started, actually.

his hands are warm and solid where they grip your hips, holding you steady as you straddle his lap, your thighs hovering just above him. your heart’s going too fast. your lip is caught between your teeth, eyes flicking between his and the space between you — like you’re still deciding, like you could still change your mind.

his gaze is darker than usual. blown pupils, flushed cheeks, mouth parted slightly as he stares up at you like he can’t quite believe this is real.

"we don't need to do this," he swallows, voice low and rough, like it's scraping its way up from his throat. his eyes drop to your lips. "you sure?"

you nod. maybe not totally sure, but sure enough. your stomach is tight with nerves, dread curling in your gut at the thought of the pressure, the sting — but when you look at him, the way he’s waiting for your word like it’s everything, it almost seems worth it.

“i—i wanna do this, ray,” you say quietly, and it’s the first time you’ve called him that in weeks.

his grip tightens on your hips. just a little.

“okay,” he whispers. “just breathe. go slow. i got you.”

you reach between the two of you, fingers trembling as you guide him to where you need him — tip nudging right where your body’s warm and ready and nervous. he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time, one hand sliding up your spine, the other still firm on your waist.

you lower yourself onto him slowly — a shaky inhale spilling from your lips as you feel him start to stretch you open, inch by inch. it’s not pain, not exactly — it’s pressure. overwhelming and unfamiliar and a lot.

“fuck,” he mutters, his head dropping back as he exhales through his nose. "nice and slow, pretty girl."

you squeeze your eyes shut. “is it supposed to feel like this?”

“you’re doing perfect,” he breathes, lifting his head again, blue eyes searching your expression. “you okay?”

you nod, jaw clenched.

“keep going,” you whisper. “please.”

he groans, low and guttural, as he helps guide you down the rest of the way, hips lifting just a little to meet yours. when you finally bottom out, your whole body goes still — breath caught in your throat, limbs trembling.

“there you go,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. “you did it.”

you nod, blinking fast, and whisper, “feels so full.”

“yeah,” he huffs, brushing a kiss over your cheek. “we’ll go slow, promise. i won’t move until you tell me to.”

you don’t expect the way it makes your chest ache. how gentle he is. like you’re something fragile. like you matter.

like maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

you sit still for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, the fullness — his thick cock buried deep inside of you, twitching slightly with every shaky breath he takes. the feeling is foreign, but delicious. rafe doesn't move — wouldn't dare, not when there was so much trust on the line. his hands rub slow, absent circles into your skin, and his lips brush your collarbone like he's trying to ground you.

“you okay?” he asks again, voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

you nod, slower this time. “just… weird. good weird.”

he smiles — barely there, but it softens something in his expression. “yeah. it’s gonna get better, promise.”

you take a breath, and then another, and then roll your hips — just the tiniest bit. the movement pulls a gasp from your lips, and a sharp inhale from him.

“jesus—” his eyes flutter shut, head tilting back against the headboard as he groans. “you feel so fuckin’ good.”

you do it again, a little more this time. your hands plant on his chest, finding your rhythm slowly — small, tentative rocks of your hips that make your thighs tremble and your head swim. it’s overwhelming and messy and nothing like what you imagined, but it’s him, and it feels right.

his grip shifts, one hand sliding to the small of your back to guide you gently, the other gripping your thigh tight like he’s holding back everything he wants to do.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your face, like he doesn’t wanna miss a single second. “you’re doing so fucking good.”

his praise goes straight to your stomach, makes the warmth there coil tighter. your brows knit together, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you rock into him a little harder — his cock dragging slow and thick against that sensitive spot inside you, making your breath hitch.

“r-rafe,” you whisper, voice shaking. “feels… better now.”

“yeah?” his hands tighten on your waist. “told you.”

he bucks up slightly, meeting your next roll with a soft thrust — not rough, not fast, but deep enough to make your body jerk and your nails dig into his chest.

you whimper, and that sound alone has him cursing again, jaw clenched like he’s barely keeping it together.

"feels good, huh?" he asks, calloused fingertips tickling the exposed skin of your hips. he presses a firm, lazy kiss against your jaw, his other hand interlocking with yours for an added bit of reassurance.

your hips move on instinct now, chasing the way he feels inside of you — deep and warm and so good it's making your head spin. every roll of your hips sends sparks through your stomach, that tightening coil getting hotter and hotter the longer you keep going.

rafe's gaze stays on you, watching you like he's never seen anything so pretty. hands firm on your waist, guiding you, steadying you.

"you're doing so good," he whispers, voice ragged, eyes flicking between your face and the spot where you're joined for the first time ever. "swear you were made for me."

your breath hitches, lashes fluttering as you grip his shoulders, trying to stay anchored through the pleasure that’s starting to take over.

“ray,” you gasp, soft and shaky. “it feels… i don’t know—i think i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby. just let go. i’ve got you.”

he lifts his hips just slightly, pushing up into you at that perfect angle — again and again, unhurried but deep, and it makes your thighs tremble. makes your back arch. makes your whole body light up from the inside out.

and then it hits.

your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. you cry out, clutching him tighter, hips stuttering as your body pulses around him — every nerve ending on fire.

“fuck,” he groans, holding you through it, hands gripping you like he never wants to let go. “breathe, baby… you’re doin’ so good. i’ve got you.”

you collapse against him, chest to chest, face tucked into his neck as you try to catch your breath. he strokes your back gently, rocking into you a few more times before you feel him still, his breath catching, hips pressing up tight to yours as he lets go with a soft, broken sound.

you’re both quiet after that.

just the rise and fall of your breathing, your bodies pressed together, hearts thudding out of sync.

you don’t say anything at first. you don’t need to.

his hand finds yours. fingers lacing.

and he kisses your temple like he means it.

[holymolyyikes]

IV / VI.

I tailspun down the road as the other car crashed out behind me. Granted, if this were a movie, my car would have blown up by now, but I was fine. Alive. Definitely bleeding.

As the car skidded to a stop, I immediately hopped out and booked it, blood leaking onto the road. The car lights behind me meant I wasn’t safe. That I was alive at all meant I had just used up a significant portion of my luck allocation. Not that at least some of my bones weren’t broken, but my brain had decided it was too busy to worry about that.

So I couldn’t go home, obviously, and I couldn’t go anywhere ‘out and about’. The police would be no good, nor any public institution where tall people would be. Well, that wasn’t true – I just had to make sure I wouldn’t be visible. I was only a few hundred metres from another shopping centre too – open space, lots of layers, and lots of exits. I’d worry about the cameras later. I’d worry about the blood now. If I walked into a shopping centre covered in blood and car crash debris, I’d be spotted instantly. The fact I hadn’t been spotted already was, frankly, due mostly to the shiny lights emanating from the mall, which certainly wouldn’t help me when I was inside. Blood.

Having quickly found the public restroom (empty, luckily – my supply had to be running low), I used the tap water to wash myself. It felt like fresh tonic water on my now very tongue-like skin, but I was clean. Well, not clean – I looked like an awry attempt to make destitution look fashionable with all the rips and the tears and the stains, but that would be good enough. I couldn’t just hide inside here – one tall person finds me, and it’s over. I mean, they’d hit their head on the doorframe first, but then they’d find me, and it’d be over. I had to make my way inside the shopping centre.

The coast was clear. I jogged across the concrete trying to look happy and shoppy and chippy chappy, and though it probably wasn’t convincing, no tall guy came up and beat my ass so it had worked. The doors slid open with a shunk and I, catching my breath, strolled shoddily through. It was sterile in here. The walls were sugar white, and the lights were warm cold. There was no air, besides maybe an air of lingering pleasantry. Somebody had been paid a lot to make me feel comfortable, and admittedly I did feel comfortable. Not safe.

There were tall people everywhere, roaming around, staring over the rest of us, buying shit with their tall coins apparently. Okay. Firstly, I needed to have purpose. Nobody wants to be at a shopping centre, which means everybody is doing something. I picked the direction with the most space and started walking confidently, like I had somewhere to be. I even picked a store I would ‘head’ to, at which point I would pick another and go there. Of course, I still found the time to jump the dividing lines in the floor – a girl has needs. So far, step one was working well – even the tallest of people hadn’t noticed me. Secondly, I needed to find a group of also short people, and blend in with them. They’re looking for a singular person, so I’d be invisible. The real question now was: where would the short people be? I thought for a second, still hitting my stride. Fashionable clothing stores. They don’t sell anything for large people, and they’re usually aimed towards women, who are typically shorter. It was the perfect plan. It also made me think and then bet that ‘tall coins’ were given to people who hit a certain height, and not relative to gender. I wonder what Ellie had to say about that.

Were there even any fashionable clothing stores here? In the few times I’d come, usually to watch some dumb movie with Ellie in the cinema above us nobody goes to, I had never bothered to check. Surely. I took the risk and stopped walking, leaning against a wall next to one of those staff corridors that do nothing, and scoping the place out. Did Claire’s sell cloth – no. Admittedly my vision of a fashionable clothing store began and ended with Forever 21, which I had never seen outside of media, and wasn’t even certain they had in Australia [Ed. If the town you picked happens not to be in Australia (most aren’t I hear), too bad]. Was it called Forever 18? Okay, well there was a Myer there, but that was mixed gender and also for poshies so I wouldn’t fit in. I kept looking. Is that –

‘Miss,’ There was a voice behind me. Male, 40’s. I turned around. Day-Glo vest, so security. Tall. Fuck. Why did I stop. Why the fuck did I –

‘If you’d just come with me.’ He continued.

‘Why?’

‘Our security camera algorithms have identified in your behaviour patterns a 72% match to the latest shoplifter models. For the security of both the shoppers here and the interests of the premises, you will be subjected to a mandatory check. If we detect no wrong-doing or illicit activity, you are free to go.’ This was bullshit. I needed to get out of here. I glanced around, and only then realised that, floor on floor, every single shopper was staring directly at me, unmoving. They were all tall. Not a bag or leg wavered. Hundreds of them, all around, watching me. ‘Come with me now.’

‘Give me a second.’ I said. It was over. I was completely surrounded. I was on the second floor, so I could jump the balcony and maybe try and make a run for it, but where to? Why? Surrounded means surrounded, and I’d only hurt myself more. There was literally, finally, no way out. ‘Fine.’

I walked with him, down the corridor, and through the doorway to the side, feeling myself lose consciousness only moments after I entered. Whatever happened next, I reminded myself, was not my fault…

what if people over a certain height had a special currency called tall coins that short people didn’t know about. And one day you’re walking with your friend (huge) and she drops something and you pick it up and say what is this and she says oh that’s my tall coin don’t worry about it. But you did worry

[astrow1zar6]

Astrology Observations- 50

Jupiter in the 8th house can be a really hard placement to have in the natal chart. Whatever Jupiter touches it expands so when in the 8th house that rules death, sex, rebirth, transformation ect all these are major components of your life. Could have a really intense life and go thru a lot of struggle young. I see a lot of people with this placement experience death at a very young age. Your blessings however come when you push through those dark and you come out so much stronger. Extremely emotional intelligent.

Venus in Scorpio is a common placement to see in exotic dancers

Scorpio risings I notice rarely delete photos on social media or in general. They are usually the people that keep up photos for years. Even if they have pictures with people they don’t interact with anymore (such as an ex). Very hard for these people to let go of the past.

Aquarius’s suns will either come off as one of the friendliest easygoing people you ever met or really stand offish and mean mugged.. no in between

Underdeveloped Virgo moons tend to pick on people a lot. They can try to highlight your insecurities on purpose. If not evolved they can have big mean girl energy.

The people I meet that I see usually have really long healthy relationships are Taurus suns and Cancer suns. (Especially when together!)

Gemini mars people are super impulsive. They require a lot of mental stimulation so the riskier the more exciting for them usually.

A lot of Gemini moons get famous for just recording themselves talking. A lot of influencers have a Gemini moon. You usually have a lot of things to say and are amazing at keeping up conversations which makes you very entertaining to listen to/watch. They communicate best when they just allow themselves to talk spontaneously without planning out what to say.

An Unevolved Pisces Mars is genuinely so scary! They can be so good at emotional manipulation. They are skilled in making others blame themselves for their mistakes. Big mastermind energy.

Pisces Mars I notice also really hate confrontation. They have a harder time speaking/standing up for themselves a lot. I feel like these people are the least likely to start/be in a physical altercation out of all the mars signs.

Mars in Aries/1st house people tend to be naturally toned/ athletic looking. Even if they don’t really work out that much they always look super cut for no reason.

Cancer and Sagittarius placements tend to put on weight very easily

Capricorn risings/Venus could’ve been told to eat more or that they look starved. A lot of people with this placement I notice tend to be very petite/boney naturally. The types that can eat all day and not gain a pound.

Pisces Venus men are either fairytale like romantic or they are extremely bare minimum and romantically clueless.

Aqua Venus’s hate people who are too clingy too soon. They will ghost you so fast. If you want to attract them just act nonchalant they won’t admit it by they are really into people who don’t express much interest.

Sag Venus’s are very experimental in love the types to try throuple or be swingers. I also notice the men are more into 🍒 than 🍑

I’ve seen a lot of Aqua moons be big in the closet gays (my experience not all Aqua moons ofc)

Taurus mars/venus take a really long time to decide if they want a relationship with you they will put it off for so long until they are completely sure. This can be extremely annoying to more fast paced types. They tend to wait too long to the point they miss their opportunity to be with the person they really wanna be with:( but once they become sure they’re in it for the longest haul. Will be the most loyal partner.

Scorpio moons are very easily embarrassed especially when it comes to how they feel. They tend to take things very personally due to their sensitivity which is why most choose not to open up.

Unevolved Libra moons are the type to sleep with their best friend’s boyfriend or try to flirt with them. (Example ; Alabama Barker)

Uranus in the 5th house natives have such a quirky sense of humor. They tend to usually be hilarious and have people cracking up. The most random shit comes out of their mouths. You never know what they’re going to say 😂

Virgo risings hate being late to things. The types to come 10 minutes early to work. They also tend to get anxious when their environment is a mess I notice.

A lot of Lilith in Pisces men tend to have a foot fetish. Lilith ruling kinks & Pisces ruling the feet. They also tend to like fat on a woman or like their women to be more plump and curvy over petite.

Libra placements have a big emphasis on their teeth/smile. Could have big teeth that stand out or an amazing smile.

Gemini placements tend to be amazing singers and have good pitch naturally (especially if you have a lot of second house placements).

Sorry for being MIA for awhile had to take some time to myself to deal with my mental health but I’m going to continue posting more since I’ve been feeling a lot better🫶🏽🥹🩵

[johanna-swann]

The thing is that the reasoning behind Eddie picking this fight doesn't even make sense at all.

First of all Eddie and Hen talk about Buck and how he almost obsessively worries about his friends which makes Eddie worry about Buck. So originally Eddie is concerned for his best friend because Buck is paying so much attention to other people.

In that same convo they also mention that Buck was trying to figure out how Eddie is handling his grief, so they have talked about Eddie's grief. Maybe Buck didn't go about it in the most sensitive way, but he genuinely wanted to know how Eddie is doing and asked a ton of questions.

But apparently Buck is still selfish because he didn't specifically ask: "Hey, what was it like for you getting that phone call?" As if that's a normal question to ask. As if you can just casually pepper that into a conversation. You can ask: "How are you holding up?" or "Are you okay?" and then you let the other person talk about whatever detail bugs them most. Which Buck did! They did have conversations about Eddie's grief.

And Eddie has been talking to everyone who will listen how he's "sorry I wasn't there" and "I feel guilty I wasn't there" and "maybe I could've done something". It's not like Eddie has been bottling these things up, he already expressed that feeling to Ravi and talked about it more with Hen and Karen.

Then they have a conversation where Buck reveals he knows about the job offer and is slightly miffed he didn't hear about it from Eddie himself, but still congratulates him and this just sets Eddie off in such a way he does a complete 180? Suddenly Buck is making everything about himself again and being selfish and doesn't care that Eddie is grieving too? If Eddie had got annoyed that Buck is still somewhat passive aggressive about the moving to El Paso thing - okay, kinda makes sense at least. But Eddie is the one who suddenly makes this about Bobby and his grief while completely ignoring that Buck basically just lost his surrogate dad. Eddie and Bobby were friends, good friends, but he was not Eddie's father figure. And he just keeps yelling and yelling and even gets physical with Buck.

As previously established - Buck did care about Eddie's grief. He did ask questions. Eddie is choosing to ignore that and verbally attack his best friend instead. And that's not even the end of it.

The next morning, not in the heat of the moment, but after Eddie had a whole night's sleep to cool off and after Buck has already apologised Eddie apparently still feels like he should mess with Buck's feelings further. Why? What kind of purpose does this action serve except hurt Buck? Eddie already confronted Buck, already said his piece, already got an apology. What the hell else does he want?

I wish the show would for once frame this behaviour in a way that clarifies Eddie isn't in the right. Because somehow these fights always end with Buck apologising and Eddie doing nothing, but they're besties again anyway. To me this signals that Eddie is right, Buck is childish and selfish, yelling at your friends is okay (you don't even need to apologise) and Buck deserves this treatment. I don't think this is what the show wants to say, but it's what comes across.

[oneofstarkskids]

redemption

THUNDERBOLTS* END CREDITS SPOILERS:

genre; angst with a splash of fluff

summary: bucky knows that even when he feels like there's no one he can rely on, nobody who's willing to stay, you'll be right there beside him.

"it went poorly," bucky tells yelena about his call to sam. part of bucky wanted to be angry with sam.

how could he sit there, knowing this was what bucky's always wanted- purpose, redemption- and try to take it away from him?

at the same time, bucky felt almost guilty. like it was his own fault. he should've done something. said something. told everyone it was another one of valentina's scams.

but he couldn't. not when there were so many people cheering and chanting for him. they weren't calling him the winter soldier. a monster. not a criminal, but an avenger.

a true hero.

he went home to you, heart feeling heavy.

"hey sweetheart," you greeted him at the door, wrapping your arms around his neck.

you ran your hands through his blown out curls, brushing them out of his pretty face. you noticed the tired look in his eyes. "everything okay?"

he sighed before pulling you into him, caging you against him in a crushing embrace.

you didn't push the matter. you just let him hold you like that for as long as he needed, and eventually he sat down and confided in you.

"sam called," he started, but paused. you smiled a bit at the mention of your friend. he'd been there countless times for both you and bucky.

bucky had gone to visit him about a year ago, but it had been awhile since you had talked to him without having to dial his number.

"how is he?" you asked.

"he's suing me," he said flatly. you furrowed your brows and shook your head, trying to wrap your mind around it. "well, not just me, the new avengers. for copyright."

it suddenly made sense.

"oh, bucky," you sat down next to him, interlocking his metal fingers with your flesh ones.

he kept his gaze on the floor, "he was pissed. and maybe he has every right to be."

you didn't say anything. what could you say?

you could see it from sam's point of view. he was an avenger. and he'd lost so many of his teammates.

bucky had even told you that sam was planning to rebuild the avengers a while back. you were so sure that he would've asked bucky to join.

but it looks like he never got the chance.

and bucky. your bucky. this meant so much to him. it's not like he went out searching for it. this team, these lonely, messed up people, just happened to fall right in his lap.

they were just like him. people who'd fucked up beyond redemption.

but here they were, getting the clean slate each of them had only ever dreamt of.

he was supposed to throw that all away?

he rested his forehead on your shoulder, "i don't know what to do. you know, after steve..." you waited for him to finish, knowing it was a rough topic.

"after steve left, i thought i would never have that kind of bond with anyone else," he whispered.

"besides you, of course," he looked up at you with a lopsided grin.

you smiled back, softly.

"but then sam and i...we really started to understand each other. we were forced to work together, and despite him being an annoying pain in my ass... he's filled the emptiness that steve left behind." his face contorts with pain.

you took his face into your hands, thumbs brushing across his cheeks.

"what if he never forgives me?" he asks the question that leaves the room thick with the loss and pain he's lived with his entire life.

you shook your head once more, "buck, don't say that. he's sam. he's pissed off, probably hurting, but he loves you."

"a brief argument over the phone is never going to change that. you two will work this out," you said confidently. it helped that you truly believed the words coming out of your mouth.

there were some bumps in the road of bucky and sam's relationship, but ultimately, they were the captain and his sergeant. inseparable.

bucky was in awe of you. your unwavering faith in him. your never-ending love and support. his blue eyes shined with affection.

"i'm glad that it's you by my side, doll," he whispered. "even if nobody else is."

you pressed your forehead against his and frowned, "which they are."

he couldn't help but chuckle at how adamant you were.

"c'mere," he lifted your chin slightly and kissed you tenderly, his love for you evident in the way his lips lingered against your own.

[marvelstoriesepic]

A Home for Now

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky and you are hosting a dinner party for undercover purposes.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: intimacy under false pretense; tension; mild alcohol use; fake relationships

Author’s Note: This is a continuation of Five days, Five bouquets. Thank you so much for the request, my lovely!! I hope you’ll enjoy! ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

You tell yourself this is just another mission.

That the dress you’re wearing is just fabric. That the home is just a set. That James Buchanan Barnes is just playing a part.

But the soft clink of glasses, the glow of candlelight dancing across Bucky’s cheekbones, the heat of his palm resting gently against the small of your back - it all feels too much like something you’ve dreamed of, too often, with no permission.

This was supposed to be easy. A brunch-turned-dinner party, timed perfectly with the arrival of your targets - Camille and Julian Coyle, a picture-perfect couple with dark secrets. You were meant to observe. Collect. Charm.

But now people are seated in the house you’re supposed to call home for a dinner you prepared in a kitchen that doesn’t belong to you, pouring wine into glasses you didn’t pick. Shoes scrape against the still unworn wooden floor, napkins are folded in laps. The kitchen still smells of rosemary and warm butter. And you are someone else’s wife.

You are Bucky’s wife.

And it’s alarmingly easy to believe.

He came home earlier than expected today. Claimed he wanted to help you prepare for the evening. He tossed aside his boots and extended the next bouquet of roses, small daisies, and greenery intertwined within them toward you with a charming smile.

It’s been over a week now, and he doesn’t stop.

And then he watched you set them down, the house slowly becoming a greenhouse in bloom.

And you have to watch yourself not to start counting petals instead of seconds now.

You have to watch yourself not to slowly build a fantasy with every stem he brings home, though that might already be too late.

Because this house - your temporary home - is soaked in fragrance and color. Glass vases placed behind books, ceramic pitchers filled with fresh-cut peonies, lilies, and so on. It doesn’t matter where a guest turns - beauty meets them.

Bucky then leaned against the kitchen doorframe before the guests arrived, sleeves rolled to his forearms, tie loosened as if he didn’t care much but still wanted to look nice for you. He held a dish towel and pretended it mattered, but he was really just watching you.

And it was that kind of gaze that made the air bend. The kind of gaze that could pin the moon in place. The kind of gaze you currently get too much of because it makes reality blur with fiction.

He helped you set the table. Brushed past you and let his fingers graze your back and you felt it sing through your skin.

And that was just the beginning.

Bucky’s arm was at your waist in an instant when the people filed into your living room. They are friends of the target couple, acquaintances, coworkers, your neighborhood. Some are innocent. Others, less so. Julian Coyle is an arrogant man, with oozing confidence, who seems to think everyone in the room is there for him. Camille is impeccably dressed, observant, dangerous. You’ve been watching her for days.

But tonight, she gets to watch you.

And she does. Like them all. They watch the two of you move like a couple who knows each other’s footsteps before you take them. He refills the drinks before you even notice the glasses are low. You nudge him with your hip when he forgets the dessert forks. He kisses your temple in front of them all, and for a second, it doesn’t feel like acting.

“Oh my god, these are everywhere,” a woman gasps, reaching for a floral arrangement on the sideboard, the fourth one in this room alone. “Did you do these yourself?”

Before you can answer, Bucky shrugs, a hand in his pocket, eyes low. “Nah. Just… pick a few up every day. She deserves nice things”

You feel yourself flush.

There’s a ripple of admiration in the room. One of the men raises his glass in mock salute. “Setting the bar real high for the rest of us.”

But Bucky only smiles that small, private smile. He rubs the back of his neck and gives a low chuckle. It shakes through your bones. “She’s everything,” he says, eyes never leaving you. “I just want her to be happy. If she is, then I am. That’s all.”

You almost drop your glass.

Someone in the corner says you two are disgustingly cute. Another swears you belong on a postcard. And you wonder if it’s possible to blush yourself into unconsciousness.

It doesn’t help that Bucky keeps brushing crumbs from your shoulder, keeps leaning in too close to whisper if you’ve eaten enough and presses his lips to your cheek, keeps his arm around you when you sit too long beside a suspect who might very well be plotting something that could get both of you killed.

You’re hyper aware of Camille and Julian - arms looped through one another, but their smiles always just an inch too tight, their words too rehearsed. Julian jokes a little too loudly. Camille’s eyes linger a little too long on your wedding ring.

And Bucky senses it.

You feel the way he stiffens beside you when Julian rakes his eyes over you and how he snaps the man’s attention away from you with casual questions. But you know he’s forcing them out through gritted teeth.

You feel the way his hand inches to yours underneath the table, and how he closes his fingers around yours, squeezing softly.

You don’t mean to lose yourself in him. But it happens, over and over, in the quietest moments. In the curve of his mouth when he smiles at someone else but glances at you first. In the way his fingers don’t leave you.

In the way he tenses when Camille leans over - sleek, sharp, and watching. “So tell us - what is it really like being married to someone like James? He seems-” She pauses, smiles a smile that makes you uncomfortable. “Intense.”

You freeze for half a second. You don’t like the way she says his name.

You turn to her with a laugh. “I like to say he’s just passionate. About everything. About cooking. About justice. About making me tea exactly the way I like it.”

Bucky’s thumb strokes across your knuckle. Absentminded. Devastating.

“And the flowers,” someone else adds, a woman whose name you’ve already forgotten. “I counted nine vases around the house. You’re not secretly a florist, are you?”

You’re secretly something else entirely, but you don’t say that, of course.

Instead, you smile that polite smile again and turn to Bucky the way you’ve done it a hundred times before. As if this whole thing is more than carefully arranged coincidence.

The hand that is not laced with his, is sliding gently along his forearm as you lean in. You let your voice soften. “He brings them home for me every day. No matter how tired he is. No matter how late. He says I should never forget I’m loved.”

Your hand lifts to cradle his jaw, thumb grazing the stubble there. He stiffens slightly, going completely, utterly still. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you linger enough to feel the moment catch fire between you.

His breath stutters. Enough for you to feel it. The pause in his chest. The sharp inhale as if he’s caught by something he wasn’t ready for. His eyes find yours, ocean-dark and painfully wide.

There’s an entire confession in the way he looks at you.

And then he smiles, slow and adoring - but for show - and turns to the group.

“She deserves it,” he says, voice roughened slightly. “Everything good in this world - I’d give it to her as many times as I can.”

Around the table, there are soft sighs, one or two awws. Someone claps gently. The couple you’re surveilling exchanges a glance, but even they can’t quite fake the same glow.

Bucky’s gaze doesn’t leave you, not even when you lean back into your chair, pretending the moment was nothing more than part of the act.

But you can feel him looking. Like gravity. Like tether.

His fingers squeeze your hand beneath the table.

The conversation meanders through business and hobbies and travels. And you and Bucky don’t stop trading glances.

It’s seamless. It’s convincing.

It’s almost real.

At some point, you’re standing beside Bucky while he carves the roast, your hands brushing when you pass him a plate. The woman seated closest to the kitchen, a silver-haired guest named Lorraine who works with the local history society, tilts her head and smiles at you both.

“You two,” she says warmly, eyes crinkling, “you’ve got that thing. That soft sort of love. I see it. I see it in the way you move around each other.”

You feel yourself go still. You glance at Bucky. He’s already looking at you.

He smiles, slow and quiet. “Well,” he starts, wiping his hands on a towel, “some things don’t need saying, do they?”

Camille raises an eyebrow, her smile just a fraction too interested. “How long have you two been married, again?”

“Almost two years,” Bucky answers smoothly. Immediately. Taking your hand. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “She’s stuck with me now.”

There’s laughter. Cheers. A few light-hearted groans about how hard it is to find a man who brings flowers every day.

But there is something in his touch, in the way he moves. You don’t know what to make of it, but you notice it.

You notice the way he pulls your chair closer to him when you sit down. The way he leans in just enough when someone else tries to speak too familiarly to you. The way his smile fades just slightly the moment your focus shifts to anyone other than him, just for a heartbeat.

And when the evening winds down and guests begin to leave, you’re still holding hands. Still playing the part. Still unsure if you’re acting anymore.

Camille offers to help you clean up while her husband talks to yours and you catch a glimpse of her rifling through your drawers when she thinks you aren’t looking.

By the time she returns to the kitchen, Bucky is already there.

He leans against the counter with the ease of a man used to watching every entrance, every twitch, every glance. His smile is polite. His eyes are ice.

You see her shiver.

“My wife’s got it handled. Thanks, though,” he says evenly.

She leaves with an arrogant huff and it’s only Bucky and you for a moment.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear with the gentleness of a secret. When you nod, he continues. “Did she touch anything?”

“Went through our drawers, but there’s nothing she could have seen,” you ease gently.

But Bucky still watches you. “You sure?”

You nod. “Just keep looking at me like that,” you tease. “Then we’ll make it.”

He huffs a laugh. And then he’s kissing your temple - light, fleeting, but with intention. Your breath is somewhere you can’t follow.

Maybe you forget where the act ends and reality begins. Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because when the last guests tickle out and you close the door behind them, you both just stand there, in the silence, surrounded by petals.

It still smells of rosemary and clove. Half-melted candles bleed wax down antique brass. Empty wine glasses stand smudged with fingerprints and lipstick. The illusion lingers, soft and honey-thick. The echo of polite applause. Compliments about your cooking. About your dress. About how lucky you both are.

You start gathering stray plates, not because they need cleaning yet, but because your hands feel too empty otherwise. Too aware. The ring on your finger glints in the low light, a perfect fiction.

Bucky’s shadow flickers into the frame of the doorway. The top buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up again - he always does that when he’s grounding himself, pulling himself into the present with the simplest, most human movements.

He doesn’t speak right away. Just watches you for a second too long. As if he’s still playing the role of the doting husband and doesn’t yet know how to stop.

“You holdin’ up?” His voice is quiet. A little coarse. Rough. As if he tried to soften it but it wouldn’t work.

You nod, setting a glass down a little too carefully. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” he asks, not as a challenge, just gently. As though he learned to ask without pushing too hard. His presence brushes behind you.

“This just isn’t something I thought I’d ever do. Host a dinner party. Invite guests. I don’t know, it feels weird,” you murmur, not looking up.

Bucky hums. “I get that,” he says after a pause. Quiet, still. “But you were amazing, doll.” He says it low. Even. As if he’s cataloging something unspoken and locking it away.

And you feel the heat burn and bubble along your spine.

“Thanks, Buck. As were you.” You only glance up briefly, before putting away a dish towel that didn’t need to be put anywhere at the moment.

Seconds pass. Bucky clears his throat. “Did Camille say anything to you?”

You nod again, slow. “She asked for a tour of the house.”

He swears under his breath. Just a whisper. “Anything off?”

“She acknowledged the flowers.” You look up at the vases scattered around the space. “Said she thought they were romantic.”

Bucky lets out a breath that isn’t quite a laugh. “You think she bought it?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, fingers brushing over the counter. “But at least she thinks that we’re in love.”

He doesn’t respond to that. Just lets the silence curl for a beat longer. “Julian clocked me from across the room. Could feel it. That kind of stare - it’s not professional. He’s suspicious, but not sure why.”

“He’s watching your movements?”

“Every second he wasn’t pretending not to.”

You press your palms flat to the marble.

“Didn’t like you talkin’ to him so long,” Bucky mutters suddenly, and there is something else underneath the words. A tension. Not anger - but concern. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

You look at him now.

He’s facing you head-on, and there is something in his eyes that glimmers just shy of vulnerable. Protective. Fiercely so. The kind of protectiveness that isn’t written in the mission brief. That wasn’t asked of him. That wasn’t rehearsed.

“I had to,” you say softly, “to keep her distracted. If he’s on edge, then she’s not far behind him.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Just…”

His jaw tightens. Then softens.

“You did good.”

And the air is thick again, charged with too much closeness and not enough language for it. You brush past him to grab another dish, and his hand hovers - for a second - as if he might reach for your waist. As if the shape of you in motion is something he has to resist tracing.

He doesn’t touch. But the ghost of the thought stays between you.

“I’ll get these,” he insists, nodding toward the glasses. “You go sit.”

“I’m fine, Buck.”

He gives you a look.

You relent after a moment, settling at the edge of the sofa, legs curled beneath you. From here, you can still see him - sleeves rumpled, brow furrowed, his mouth tugged slightly at the corner as if he’s still thinking about the way you laughed earlier. Or the way someone complimented how gently he looked at you.

He is quiet for a while, hands moving with the ease of someone used to messes, used to cleanup. Used to taking care of what’s left after the damage is done.

Then, without looking up, he asks again. “You sure you’re okay?”

And this time, the question feels heavier. Not because he doubts your strength, but because he knows the toll this takes - the pretending. The almosts. The press of a thousand small moments that make you forget where the story ends and the truth begins.

You don’t answer right away.

You look at the flowers instead. The ones he brought you. Every day. Quiet declarations of bloom.

“Yeah. I am,” you finally respond.

And it’s not exactly a lie.

Because in this moment - under this roof, with the mission pressing in on all sides and the feel of his gaze always somewhere just behind you - you are. You are okay.

Even if you’re not sure for how much longer.

[sushirrrry]

Hi Em! I have an idea for a little prompt if you have time:)

2nd person

No smut

I was thinking Harry and y/n are freshy dating so everything is very new and exciting but they are also both kind of nervous and shy around each other:) just something cutesy in the early stages of dating, how they’re exploring their routines, habits etc:)

Set at uni/young adults working their first jobs

Have a nice dayyyyy!

GENTLE

@witch-rry hope you enjoy 😘

Everything about him, about this, it’s still new.

The way he knocks on your suite door, even though you told him he never has to, especially when you’re expecting him. The way your heart does that silly little flutter each time anyway — even if you’re just in mismatched socks and his hoodie that he left at your flat a week or so ago, holding a spoonful of peanut butter mid-air as you meander to answer the door.

Harry smells like outside air and laundry detergent when he steps in, cheeks pink from the cold. The beanie settles on his curls perfectly, and his large, green eyes have crinkled in the corners from where he holds his happiness. He smiles like he’s trying not to; you smile like you’re not trying at all.

He toes off his shoes by the door, carefully, always in that same order — shoes, jacket, hat, then the little sigh he lets out like the day’s finally over now that he’s here with you. You stand there next to him, waiting to lead him into the small flat.

“You’re always eating peanut butter,” he says, amused, dropping his bag beside the door.

“And you’re always late,” you shoot back, but there’s no heat behind it — just that familiar tease that you both like so much, that low-grade buzz that’s settled between you two like static.

He grins, shyly. “Got caught up at work. Again.”

“They must really need you,” you tell him, taking another bite of the peanut butter from your spoon. “Employee of the Year award.”

Harry shakes his head, putting his hands in his joggers with a sheepish response, “I guess – I like being needed.”

You offer him the spoon. He takes it, brushing your fingers accidentally-on-purpose, and for a second the room tilts. He looks at you like you’re magic, and you look at him like you might believe it to be true.

“You still okay for a movie night?” you ask, a little softer.

“Of course – I even brought the snacks this time.”

You follow him when he starts to move over to your couch, “You pick weird snacks.”

“I’m a man of complex taste,” he says, puffing his chest slightly, before collapsing onto your tiny couch that still smells like takeout and cheap candles.

And then… there it is. That quiet beat that follows new love. Not loud, not dramatic. Just two people slowly making space in each other’s lives.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask him, knowing that the kettle had already been on, but wondering if he would like to join you.

Harry turned from his seat on the couch, almost looking like he would get up because he wanted to help you. “Oh – uh, yes, actually. That would be great.” He’s shy, and nervous, and feels as if he needs to help you with everything. It’s what a gentleman would do; but the thing about Harry is that he knows how independent you are, and how much stuff you don’t want help with.

You don’t know his middle name yet, but you know how he takes his tea: plain with just a splash of milk. He doesn’t know where you see yourself in five years, but he knows you sleep with your window cracked open just in case it starts to rain. You’re still figuring it all out — the pacing, the rhythms, the delicate weight of maybe falling for someone too fast. But it’s a type of falling that feels fun and dramatic and soft.

For now, it’s enough. Peanut butter spoons and shared blankets and knowing smiles across the room make sense for you both, and it feels incredibly special to know that you can look at each other with the same hearted eyes.

Harry settles into the far corner of your couch, leg tucked beneath him like he’s still not sure how much space he’s allowed to take up. His hair’s a little damp from the walk over, and it curls slightly at his temples — you try not to stare, but your heart’s doing that thing again, the skip-hop flutter that’s becoming familiar around him. His cheeks are still pink, you wonder if it’s from blush or just from being warm.

You pass him the blanket from the back of the couch without a word. He takes it with a quiet “thanks,” eyes flicking to yours for a second too long before looking away.

On the screen, the movie menu loops again – he let you pick the movie this time, even when he argued that you’d never seen Jurassic Park so it was a must. But he let you choose Little Women because he wanted to watch you watch it more than anything. Neither of you press play.

Instead, you both sit in that still moment, the kind that only happens when you’re not quite strangers, not quite anything else yet. Your flat smells like microwave popcorn and your vanilla body lotion. His knee accidentally bumps yours, and he leaves it there, like maybe he’s hoping you won’t mind if it’s just resting.

Of course, you don’t. You even push back a little bit to let him know that you feel him.

You don’t say anything — just rest your head back, letting the soft hum of the room fill the spaces between your thoughts. It’s new. It's unfamiliar in a way that feels good, like breaking in new shoes or hearing a song you know you’ll play to death just so you can practically feel the words.

He reaches for the popcorn and misses the bowl completely, sending a few pieces scattering onto the carpet. He groans, embarrassed, and ducks down to pick them up, mumbling something that sounds like, “Every time.”

You give him a pitied laugh, just a little, soft and honest. He glances up at you from under his lashes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s proud to have made you laugh even if he didn’t mean to.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says, almost like he felt he needed to thank you for allowing his presence.

You nod, brushing your socked foot against his in an absentminded kind of way. “I like it when you’re here.”

He smiles at that, cheeks pink. Not from the cold this time, you were sure of it.

The quiet stretches, but it’s not awkward. Just… tentative. Like the two of you are standing on the edge of something, peering down into it but not quite ready to jump.

Your hand ends up next to his on the blanket. And then, not long after, in it. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t look at him. But the grip is warm, and it holds.

The movie finally starts playing in the background, but neither of you are really watching. You feel the rise and fall of his chest where he’s settled a little closer now. He smells like cinnamon gum and something clean, like the laundry detergent your flat mate insists on overusing.

At some point, your head drops onto his shoulder. And his thumb brushes your knuckles, once, twice — a steady rhythm that calms something buzzy in your chest.

You don’t talk about how new it all is. You don’t talk at all. But then when the credits roll, and you both stay exactly where you are, you know he’s not going anywhere — not tonight. Not if you don’t want him to.

And you don’t. Not even a little.

[alisonsfics]

what about me?

pairing: bucky barnes x ex-gf!ex-avenger!reader

summary: as an ex-avenger and the ex-girlfriend of james bucky barnes, you’re shocked when you see the new avengers announcement on tv. so, you decide to pay avengers towers a visit to reminisce, until you run into bucky. then you both realize you’ve been holding some grudges.

word count: 2k

warnings: ⚠️thunderbolts* spoilers⚠️ angst between you and bucky

You were having a peaceful start to your day. Or as peaceful as it could be. The past couple years had really messed you up. You’d basically lost everything. The Avengers. Your friends. Your boyfriend. Your home.

Nothing had felt the same since then.

You tried to start over. You weren’t exactly built for the real world. You had telekinetic abilities. Your father was a successful scientist, but after you were born, he became captivated by the idea of superheroes. Then, he started to experiment on you, accidentally giving you abilities.

When you became an Avenger, you learned to harness your powers. You also blossomed into a great fighter, training with both Steve and Natasha.

Your skill set was very specific. And it didn’t exactly suit a corporate life, or any kind of regular life.

A couple of months ago, you got a call from Sam, whom you hadn’t spoken to since Tony’s funeral. He said it was about Ross going out of control. You were happy to help, and for the first time in years, you felt like you were doing the right thing with your life.

But nothing had happened since then. You started hanging out with Sam more often, craving any tie back to your previous life.

That’s where you were right now, out for lunch with Sam.

“So, is our new President showing any possibility of turning into a raging Hulk of a new color?” You joked, earning a chuckle from Sam. He quickly shook his head.

“Nope. All clear, but if it happens again, trust me, you’ll be the first one I call.” He told you. The thought of another president turning into a Hulk shouldn’t have comforted you, but it did. Because it meant having a purpose again.

“How have you been? You’ve seemed a little distracted since the whole Ross thing.” Sam asked, switching into counselor mode.

You laughed to yourself, thinking about the best response that would make Sam worry the least. “I don’t know, Sam. I feel like I’ve forgotten what being okay feels like.” You said, honestly.

“Just a professional opinion, maybe it’s cause I’m the only person you talk to. You can’t isolate yourself.” He mentioned. You switched your gaze to the ground. Of course you knew he was right. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it.

But all your friends, your family, were scattered around the globe or dead. You were alone.

Before you could respond, you both heard commotion around you the patio of the restaurant. You could hear the sound of phones dinging all the way down the street. Hushed whispers grew louder.

You felt heads turn towards you and Sam.

“Sam, what’s happening?” You asked, quietly. He glanced down at his phone. “Oh, shit,” he mumbled under his breath, before flipping around the screen for you.

You immediately recognized Val, and then you noticed Bucky. He was bruised and bleeding and standing behind her. The headline scrolled across the bottom: “Welcome the New Avengers after NY Attack.”

People started to rush towards you both. As two ex-Avengers, everyone wanted to know why you both weren’t on this new Avengers group.

“C’mon,” Sam said, quickly standing up and rushing towards you. He tapped a button on his watch and his flight pack appeared on his back. He grabbed you, and you wrapped your arms around him.

Your feet lifted off the ground as Sam flew you both to a nearby rooftop. You stepped away from him as soon as your feet hit the concrete.

“You alright?” He asked, watching you begin to pace. The words “New Avengers” repeated over and over in your head. And the image of Bucky bruised.

Sam repeated your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I don’t understand. There was an attack? Why didn’t he call me? Or you? He could’ve been hurt. He’s like family to me, and he’s just moving on? Why do we all act like the Avengers didn’t happen? I mean, everyone is moving on, and I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know who I am if I’m not an Avenger. And I just— I need to go home, Sam. I really need to think.” You rambled.

Sam nodded, understanding where you were coming from. “Come on, I’ll bring you home.” He said.

You spent the next two weeks sitting in your apartment, basically wasting away. You’d always struggled to cope with change, but you felt yourself being tugged back to the good old days.

Then, one day it was different. You woke up and felt yourself being pulled out the front door. You didn’t know where you were going until you got there.

You stood on the cold street, looking up at the tall building: Avenger’s Tower. It had been your home for years, and now it was a building you hardly recognized.

You walked up towards the front gate. The security guard immediately recognized you and brought you inside. He gave you a security pass, so you could freely roam the building.

You took the elevator up to the top floors where most of the rooms were. It was a path you’d taken so many times before.

You stepped out of the elevator and were met by a million memories. Memories you hadn’t thought of in years came rushing back to you.

A loud metal door slammed shut, bringing you back to reality. You jumped and turned towards the noise.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky Barnes.

“Hi,” you stuttered. His eyes met yours. You saw his eyes soften and the weight lift off his shoulders. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, breathlessly.

“I don’t know. I think I just wanted to see you.” You admitted.

He walked towards you, closing the distance. “It’s nice to see you, really. I’ve been thinking about you recently.” He said, sincerely.

“It’s definitely not because you moved back into the place we used to live. Don’t think that would make you think of me at all.” You quipped, sarcastically. A soft smile spread across his face.

“It’s been too long.” He said, his voice only coming out at a whisper. He felt every memory of you come rushing back to him at once. He remembered movie nights with the rest of the team. And the first time he kissed you, after a mission. And sneaking out of training to be with you.

“Yeah, it’s been a couple years. Y’know, since the world almost ended and you dumped me a few months later.” You said, your tone coming out harsh.

You had really missed Bucky. But you were also mad at him because it was his fault that you’d had to miss him. He’d gone radio silent for years, and you lost your best friend.

Bucky wore a pained expression. “I’m sorry about the way I handled everything. I was in a really bad place with Steve leaving and everything.” He apologized.

“C’mon, Bucky. Of course I understood that, but what you didn’t understand was that my world was also turned upside down. So many of our friends died or left, but I thought I’d always be able to rely on you. I loved you so much, and you left me like it was nothing.” You argued.

Each word felt like a cut to Bucky’s heart. He’d never wanted to hurt you.

“It wasn’t nothing. Do you really think that wasn’t the hardest thing I ever had to do?” He shot back.

“Then why did you do it? Nobody forced you into that, Bucky. And if you regretted it, why haven’t you reached out to me since then?” You asked. Bucky was growing visibly frustrated. He ran his fingers through his hair. You noticed the way the light bounced off his metal arm.

“I can’t do this. I can’t have this conversation right now.” He huffed, turning away from you and starting to walk in the opposite direction.

Before your brain could even process it, you were yelling “Yeah, go run back to your new friends and leave me behind with all the problems of your past” at him.

He stood still before slowly turning back towards you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“You’re talking about being sorry that you abandoned me before and now you’re doing it again.” You accused.

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “Well, you should know a thing or two about abandoning people. I heard about you and Sam taking on the Red Hulk.” He snapped.

“What does that have to do with anything? I helped out a friend.” You said, defending yourself.

“Neither of you thought to call me to help, and you know I would have been there in a minute. And you didn’t exactly show up to help me when the Sentry almost destroyed all of New York.” He said, finally letting it out even though he promised himself he wouldn’t. He knew it was petty, but he couldn’t help that he’d been so affected by you helping out Sam and not him.

“I didn’t show up because I didn’t know it was happening. And you know how I found out? I found out while also learning that apparently there was a New Avengers team.” You argued.

“That wasn’t my idea, I swear. That was all Valentina. I was just as surprised as you were. But why do you care so much if I’m on a new team?” He asked you, and you realized how close you both were standing.

He was close enough that you could smell hints of cedar wood from his cologne. You focused your gaze on the floor to avoid looking him in the eyes. “Cause it means you’re moving on and leaving the Avengers in the past. And what about me? What if you decide to leave me in the past too?” You asked, softly.

His metal fingertips grazed your hip. His touch was soft and unsure, like he was waiting for you to pull away. When you stayed still, he used his other hand to pull your chin up, so you were looking at him.

“I actually asked the team if you could join because it wasn’t the same without you. I promise, I am not leaving you in the past.” He whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. You leaned into his touch, and it was like he never left. His arm snaked around your waist, while your fingers found their natural place weaving through his hair.

The kiss was soft but also hungry. Bucky had missed having you in his arms, and he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon. A warmth started in your chest and spread throughout your body.

Bucky's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him until there wasn’t any space between the two of you.

His lips explored yours, taking the time to refamiliarize himself with everything about you: the taste of your strawberry lip gloss, the way you smiled as he kissed you, and the way that your fingers tugged on his hair.

Bucky nipped at your bottom lip, smirking cockily when you lightly gasped. “I’ve missed you, sweets.” He mumbled against your lips.

You both jumped when you heard someone clear their throat down the hall.

“I see you’ve got a friend, Barnes.” The man scoffed, smirking at Bucky.

“Walker, this is my old friend—” Bucky started to introduce you to the man.

“I know exactly who that is and all about your friendship.” Walker responded, smirking and using air quotes around the word “friendship.”

“Now, who do we have here?” Another voice came from behind you. You and Bucky spun around, his arm wrapping around your waist until your back was pressed up against his chest.

A blonde woman with light blue eyeliner under her eyes stared back at you. She smirked at you and Bucky. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat, except we wouldn’t. So, we’ll see you guys later.” Bucky said, steering you towards the stairs.

“You’ll have to introduce me at some point.” You whispered in Bucky's ear.

“That’s a later problem, darling. We have some catching up to do.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guiltandguitarstrings @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @iamavailablesstuff @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @astheskycries @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @sunwardsss @studentville-struggles @impossibleapricotlampbat @infjkiki @weirdfishy @lickmymelaninn @eternally-timeless @andreasworlsboring101 @glassesandthunderthighs @holding-on-to-my-youth @fanofalltheficsx @spiderstyles04 @mostly-marvel-musings @madisondelstan @spookyparadisesheep @beyondthesefourwalls @basicfangirlx @rivirox @i-wish-i-knew-what-i-was @reniescarlett @multiplums @alotofrandomfangirling @bbl32 @bob-fucks @stressydepressyandlemonzesty @faykyrie @dorothea-hwldr @cherryyxbabyy @lovethemfictionalboys @starsdancegirl @akumune @harrysthiccthighss @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @marvelcasey05 @velyssaraptor

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[alex-verano]

commentary placed below a cut because i’m thinking out loud and i don’t want to necessarily bug OP with my rant, which is hardly unique or original.

what is the point of paying for higher education if you don’t care about learning anything from it? i know it’s the higher paying jobs, but there are easier ways to cheat your way to riches… when i was in college even before chat gpt people were cheating like hell and i was mind-boggled then. i wanted to shake some of my classmates and yell, “just save your money and leave if you don’t want to do this. do something else.”

all the people in my classes or who i tutored who were dead serious were people who had already tried another major. or who had a gap on their education. or who had some life experience that gave them a passion. or who had been seemingly trained since birth for the singular purpose of going to school for their subject. and everyone who was unserious was someone who had just graduated high achool and went to college because that’s the next thing after high school. and a lot of my friends who became serious after changing majors were like, yeah i wasted so much time and money because i came in straight after high school and i didn’t even really realize i was an adult and i didn’t know what i wanted for my future.

i remember being in class and thinking, “a lot of the problems we’re having on the student side wouldn’t exist if there were a mandatory gap year.” i’m sure that would have its own problems, but having emerged into the world and having seen my Friends With Degrees and my Friends Without Degrees have similar amounts of struggles and success, except my Friends With Expensive Degrees Without Rich Parents are laden with debt… i just think a lot of people are encouraged to screw themselves over.

"i don't care if they make their whole way though uni with chatgpt" i think you guys are so internetpilled that you have forgotten there are actual jobs out there that require people to know what they are doing in any way possible or else people die

[galwednesday]

How Ruth E. Carter Resurrected 1930s Southern Style for Sinners

Stack’s suit had three little buttons down the front. It had a 1920s cut, and knowing they were coming from Chicago, we figured they likely had custom suits done. His character is very self-conscious and [plans] every little detail; on his pants, the pockets are slanted, he’s got the collar bar, the tie bar, the cuff links—he’s got everything. I remember flying back to L.A. to look for things because in New Orleans, some things you can find, some you can’t. I wanted to find Stack’s hat, and I walked into this hat shop on Melrose, and there was this red hat that ended up being perfect. I’ve worked with a lot of hat aficionados, and I know you can’t just throw your hat around or leave it anywhere, so we had these leather cases made just to hold his hat because it had to stay perfect the whole time. Smoke is less conscious. He doesn’t have a tie, he represents the everyman, and his suit was a little more boxy, a little bigger, and a little less tailored because he’s hiding all kinds of stuff; he’s got two guns, he’s got a knife. His look reminds me of Don Cheadle in Devil in a Blue Dress. He’ll take you down in a second. I loved his blue hat too because it was made of denim and was meant to represent workwear. We really did this movie so fast; there are little things that if I could just take a magic paintbrush and be at the theater and tell the projectionist [to change, I’d be like], “Hold on! Can you pause right here? I have to add a little bit of age to the hat!” But I love the juxtaposition of the red and blue [tones] with Smoke and Stack. That was Ryan’s idea.

And then in comes Mary! Mary had left her community; she married a wealthy man, [but now] she’s getting on the train to go back after her mother’s funeral, and she’s in her little knit dress. She doesn’t even look like she belongs. She’s like a ghost from another planet or another stratosphere, and that was the intention with her look. She’s not a part of the struggle and the strife that is the Mississippi Delta; like Smoke and Stack, she’s made another life for herself. We meet her in this pale, pale, pale color, and she’s wearing the same dress when she goes to the juke, and that was on purpose. I wanted for her to seem ghostly because of what happens to her later on and all of the blood that eventually gets onto the silk. It was very intentional.

It’s unexpected because we knew we were making a horror picture, but I never focused on the horror part. I focused on the Mississippi Delta and the blues and the sharecroppers and the migration and all of that. I had to remind myself, “Oh, they’re gonna bloody this one up!” When one of my team members said, “You know we’re gonna have to make 10 of these [pieces]?” I would say, “Oops! Sorry, guys. I was just focusing so much on the story of it all.” The response to it all is what I wanted it to be; I wanted people to see the Mississippi Delta, and I wanted them to see the story of the blues. Now that it’s rolling out and people are seeing this is more than just a horror film and that it has all of these layers—we made it with the intention of having those layers. There was a story within a story within a story.

How Ruth E. Carter Resurrected 1930s Southern Style for Sinners, Harpers Bazaar, April 24, 2025

[sparrows4bats]

Dick Grayson is the victim of his own choices when it comes to Jondami. Aka Dick sets up Jondami, this time on purpose, but quickly regrets it.

Damian grew up to be a beautiful, kind young man, and Dick can't be prouder of him.

When he left Robin to be a doctor Dick had his feelings about it (ie hes growing up so fast! Make it stop!) but respected Damians' choice and gave as much support as possible as he went to med school and started his internship and residentancy. Damian is an adult now, accomplished and intelligent and Dick couldn't be more happy.

The only issue is other people's reactions to Damian.

Ever since, he was reintroduced to hero society for his medical expertise under the code name Nightengale (Tim chose it and suffered Damian's wrath for weeks) Every young hero Dick knows has delevoped 'an admiration' for his baby brother. (They want to get into his pants, but Dick refuses to even think about it), and Dick can't take it anymore!

He deals with this with every member of his family, and eventually, the love lorn stares die down.

But with Damian, they seem to only be increasing over time as he saves more lives and endears the younger heroes with treats and stories of his many pets.

That is his baby, and if they don't stop with the lecherous gazes soon Dick is enacting contingency plans!

It's getting plain dangerous! With the other bats, the way to impress them was competency, but because Nightengale is rarely in active combat, his admirers have resorted to injuring themselves or exaggerating symptoms to get his attention. It's gotten so bad that Bruce had to put out a League Wide memo on safety and, somehow, had gotten Damian to teach a first aid class. But that only made it worse! Nightengale claimed even more hearts during the class! He had an army of suitors practising CPR and gave everyone his com frequency at the end in case of emergency!

Dick has walked in on way too many conversations discussing Damians' datebility. He almost murdered the poor soul that started describing what they thought the doctor would be like in bed. (They were so lucky Kory was there to hold him back from disfiguring the pervert.)

The worst part is that as soon as it was revealed that Nightengale is a bat. Nightwing, the friendliest bat, was inundated with questions about the doctor. A brave few even asked him to put in a good word for them!

Dick needs this to stop. Now.

So he starts to think. How did the wave of crushes end for the rest of his family? Dick realised they only stopped after the object of their affections started dating another hero.

So all Dick has to do was set Damian up with someone. (He despairs at the thought, but anything is better than watching people he is meant to trust with his life oogle his little Robin as Damian just tries to do his job.)

So Dick Grayson makes a list of attributes any partner has to have. (Not that any of them will ever be good enough to deserve him.)

The person he sets Damian up with has to be a good hero, non judgemental about Damian's past, be able to handle his more acerbic attitude, and just crazy enough to keep up with a bat. They have to be competent, intelligent, and willing to defer to Damian when he makes his own choices but stubborn enough to dissaude his more reckless behaviour. They have to be kind, an animal lover, and willing to move heaven and earth for his baby brother at the bare minimum.

Most important of all, they can't under any circumstances have a reputation for dating around or being a massive perv. Damian is his mother's son, and as much as he tries to deny it, a true romantic. If Damian falls in love, there's no doubt in Dicks mind that Damian will remain loyal. If he's not careful, Damians' compassion and incredible capacity for forgiveness will be his doom.

So Dick needs someone who would never dream of taking advantage of another's heart.

Dick is left with a surprisingly short list. He considers asking the rest of the family for help but can't risk it getting back to Damian.

Then, after a half hour of despair. It hits him. Jonathan Kent!

They are childhood Friends, Jon knows all about Damian's childhood, they trust each other, Jon think Damians insults are funny, respects his decisions, loves animals, and would literally break the world to protect him. Jon doesn't date much, usually committed relationships, and is interested in men! It's perfect!

Dick mentored Jon himself. He's a good guy and definitely wouldn't take advantage of Damians' loyalty.

So, with his decision made Dick begins his plan to set them up.

It's a delicate operation if he goes right out and says it there's no way Damian will go with it. So he starts assigning Jon to Nightengale at the Watchtower during low activity.

He smiles as he watches the two laugh over restocking the medbay.

Next, he gets Damian to bring Superman 2.0 to visit the children at the paediatric hospital he works at as a day job. Jon happily agrees and afterwards meets Dick with a bright blush in his face and a sappy smile that doesn't fade.

Dick makes up excuses for them to hang out, training, humanitarian missions, and abusing superspeed and flight to ensure Damian is fed after long shifts.

The two are definitely interested in each. It's cute. Jon starts glaring and hanging around Damian whenever the other heroes start flirting. Damian lets Jon help him with projects, and the two are never out of each others sight for more than two minutes.

The plan is progressing beautifully, but they need just one more little push.

It happens without Dicks intervention, in the worst possible way.

Nightengale is out during an invasion, fighting and providing emergency medical help when he's hit. Hard.

Dick doesn't see it happen. But turns to see Jon with red eyes standing in front of a bleeding Damian as he takes down hundreds of the aliens. There are very few times Dick has really understood the power the Supers hold. This is like watching a vengeful God. But no hostile gets anywhere near Damian again.

The rest retreat after the carnage, but Jon doesn't care. He gathers Damian in his arms and flies away. Hours later, the batfamily finds them at a hospital, Damian is out of surgery, and Jon is sitting holding his hand. Both out of their hero gear, Thank God.

Jon doesn't even acknowledge their presence just keeps staring at Damian who is out cold.

Bruce starts to lecture him but stops when Clark very firmly drags him from the room. Dick watches the two in silence and slowly takes the chair on Damians other side.

"Thank you, for keeping him safe."

Jon just brushes Damians cheek and replies, "Always."

Jon doesn't leave until Damian is released a few days later. Damian moves back into the Manor temporarily to continue to heal. Jon visits him everyday.

Dick is celebrating his success. The two are well on their way to a relationship, and all of Damians admirers have backed off and only enquire about his health now.

Life is good.

Until he walks in on a Naked Jon Kent in Damians bed. He screams and flees before he can see anything else.

After he has calmed down and given them a chance to dress, he returns to lecture Damian about strenuous activity only to be lectured in turn about holistic pain management and rehabilitation after surgical intervention.

Dick shuts up, glares at Jon, and ensures Damian hasn't disturbed his stitches.

It would be fine if that was the only time he found the Super menace feeling up his baby.

He has, somehow, in his quest to save Damian from the lecherous assholes of the Watchtower, set him up with a pervert!

Everywhere he looks, he finds them canoodling, and Jon doesn't seem to fear him nearly enough. The little shit can't seem to keep his hands to himself!

The worst of it is when he and a few titans walk into the medbay after Damian goes back to work and finds the two of them using one of the beds!

They have no shame, and the titans spread news about the encounter to everyone. (At least Damian would be harem disperses) But Dick now wants to bleach his eyes out of skull.

But Damian is happy, so he resists the urge to break out the kryptonite.

That is until, one day, he notices a ring on Damians' finger during a hangout between the two brothers.

"You're engaged to Jon!!"

"No Richard."

Dick breathes a sigh of relief.

"We eloped."

"WHAT??"

Dick Grayson has many regrets.

[majikkulu]

:¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ masterlist `· . ꔫ

ִ ✦ . !DISCLAIMER! ⊹　 ❜ ᵎ for entertainment purposes only trust  your  intuition,  choose the picture or  pile  that  calls  to  you,  and  let  the  magic  unfold ♡

✧˖°.₊  ♡  ✩˚  ༘

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE ONE i  don't  think  you  really  know  this  person,  at  least  not  in  a  deep  way.  they  seem  pretty  distant  and  withdrawn,  like  they've  never  really  made  any  effort  to  connect  with  you.  honestly,  i'm  picking  up  some  strong  virgo  energy.  quiet,  reserved  vibes.  it  feels  like  they  can't  quite  control  themselves  when  they  get  caught  up  in  things.  i  get  the  sense  that  wherever  they  go,  they  bring  a  bit  of  chaos  with  them.  like,  there's  always  drama  surrounding  them.  they  spend  a  lot  of  time  thinking  about  you,  though,  mostly  on  social  media.  they  might  be  watching  you  in  a  sneaky  way,  either  through  other  people  or  maybe  even  a  fake/spam  account.  it’s  like  they’re  obsessed  with  decoding  everything  you  post,  over-analyzing  little  things  like  when  you  post  a  song  on  your  story  and  it  has  some  hidden  meaning.  they’ll  think  it’s  for  them,  even  though  they  haven’t  said  a  word  to  you.  they’re  really  into  you,  but  they're  scared  of  being  vulnerable  and  what  might  come  with  that.  they  act  like  they  don’t  care,  though.  super  nonchalant  on  the  surface.  now,  as  i’m  tapping  more  into  their  energy,  i  feel  like  this  could  be  someone  from  your  past.  maybe  they  pulled  back  at  some  point?  like  they  were  in  your  life,  but  then  went  distant.  or  maybe  it’s  just  someone  who’s  afraid  of  messing  up  whatever  connection  you  have.  they  hold  back  a  lot,  maybe  even  in  denial  about  their  feelings,  or  they  distract  themselves  to  avoid  thinking  about  you.  they’re  really  struggling  to  balance  you  and  their  daily  life.  they’re  trying  to  keep  this  obsession  under  wraps,  so  it  doesn't  interfere  with  what  they’ve  got  going  on.  they’re  quietly  longing  for  you,  watching  your  growth  from  afar.  and  if  they’re  someone  from  the  past,  they  still  have  some  hope,  even  though  they’re  not  doing  anything  about  it.  i  feel  like  there  are  two  possible  situations  going  on  here,  but  that's  the  vibe  i'm  getting.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE TWO i  feel  like  you  probably  know  this  person,  even  if  it’s  not  really  a  big  secret  or  anything.  but,  they’re  giving  off  some  serious  ego  vibes.  like,  it's  through  the  roof.  they  might’ve  flirted  with  you  before  or  done  things  to  get  you  to  focus  on  them,  even  if  it  was  kinda  subtle.  i’m  not  totally  sure,  but  maybe  they’re  someone  you’ve  rejected  before?  or  they  just  feel  ignored  by  you,  like  you  don’t  really  see  them,  even  though  they  try  really  hard.they  want  your  attention,  and  they’re  not  getting  it.  they’re  obsessed  with  why  you  don’t  notice  them  the  way  they  want.  and  honestly,  i  don’t  think  it’s  something  you’re  doing  on  purpose.  i  think  you  might  just  have  a  hard  time  picking  up  on  who’s  into  you.  this  person  has  been  fixated  on  you  for  months,  maybe  even  years,  and  hasn’t  told  anyone.  it’s  kinda  lowkey  draining  them.  like,  this  obsession  is  exhausting,  but  they  can’t  stop.  they  know  everything  about  you,  down  to  the  tiniest  details.  they’re  constantly  watching  you.  they’re  scared  of  being  vulnerable,  but  it’s  like  they  can’t  stop  mentally  obsessing  over  you.  thinking  about  you  kind  of  hurts  them,  if  that  makes  sense.  they  feel  invisible,  like  they  go  unnoticed,  and  it  stings.  i  get  the  sense  that  they’re  at  a  crossroads,  like  they  have  to  either  let  go  or  finally  confess  how  they  feel.  they’re  trying  to  cut  off  those  feelings,  like  in  their  head  they’re  saying  no,  but  their  heart  keeps  pulling  them  back.  they’re  leaning  toward  keeping  quiet,  but  that  obsession  keeps  growing  stronger.  they  want  to  choose  you,  but  they’re  scared  it’s  not  safe  to  make  a  move.  i’m  picking  up  some  strong  fire/air  energy,  but  leaning  more  towards  the  fire  side.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE THREE this  person  definitely  feels  hurt  by  you.  i  get  the  vibe  that  you  chose  someone  else  over  them.  whether  it  was  on  purpose  or  not,  they  saw  it  happen,  and  that  stings.  that  hurt  is  kind  of  feeding  their  fixation  on  you,  and  they  just  keep  thinking  about  it  over  and  over.  like,  they  can’t  get  any  peace  from  it.  they’re  really  stuck  in  this  emotional  cycle,  like,  they  have  this  fantasy  that  they  cling  to,  and  somehow,  in  their  mind,  it  makes  the  pain  feel  worth  it.  this  is  the  quiet,  distant  kind  of  obsession,  not  the  loud,  dramatic  type.  it’s  more  like  someone  who  watches  you  from  afar,  probably  hoping  that  one  day  things  could  be  different  between  you  two.  they  might  even  wish  for  a  chance  with  you,  especially  if  you’re  already  involved  with  someone  else.  they’re  idealizing  you  a  lot,  to  the  point  it’s  almost  delusional.  like,  you  know  how  people  worship  celebrities?  it’s  that  kind  of  feeling.  deep  down,  they  probably  know  this  is  all  a  bit  off,  but  they  can’t  help  it.  they’re  constantly  pushing  these  feelings  down  and  trying  to  control  it.  this  person  is  putting  up  a  serious  fight  to  keep  their  emotions  in  check.  their  obsession  is  far  from  passive,  though.  if  anyone  even  brings  you  up,  they  feel  the  need  to  defend  themselves,  and  it  might  come  off  kind  of  rude  or  harsh.  it’s  like  they  feel  emotionally  attacked  just  thinking  about  you.  they  might  think  it’s  impossible  to  get  you  back  for  whatever  reason,  like  they  messed  up  or  never  fully  confessed  how  they  felt.  honestly,  it’s  giving  me  12th  house  energy

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PILE FOUR this  person  definitely  has  a  sexual  attraction  to  you.  there’s  this  push  and  pull  energy  with  them.  it’s  like  they  want  you,  but  they’re  not  really  sure  how  to  get  you.  their  obsession  is  all  fueled  by  fantasy  and  desire,  not  by  emotional  stability  or  any  real  connection.  this  could  be  someone  who  flirted  with  you  but  never  actually  followed  through.  maybe  you  rejected  them,  or  you  just  didn’t  chase  after  them,  and  that’s  only  made  them  more  fixated  on  you.  i  feel  like  you  either  ignored  them  or  weren’t  emotionally  available  to  them,  which  has  only  made  things  worse  for  them.  they  might  try  to  act  all  cool  and  like  they’re  over  it,  but  deep  down,  they’re  still  obsessed  and  restless. i  have  to  say.  they’re  kind  of  goofy  about  it.  like,  they’ve  tried  so  hard  to  move  on,  and  they  keep  failing.  it’s  almost  funny  how  much  you  haunt  them.  whether  they  walked  away  from  you  or  you  walked  away  from  them,  emotionally,  they’ve  never  really  left.  they’re  trying  to  balance  this  obsession,  but  it’s  like  they  can’t  shake  the  feeling  that  your  energy  is  still  hanging  around  them.  it’s  weird.   they’re  probably  waiting  for  the  “right  time,”  like  waiting  for  some  divine  timing  to  kick  in.  you  know  the  saying,  “if  it’s  meant  to  be,  it’ll  happen”?  they’re  kinda  buying  into  that,  thinking  that  eventually,  you  two  will  cross  paths  again  or  talk  again.  or  just  somehow  interact.  they  definitely  believe  in  that  “one  day”  moment.  this  person  is  obsessed  in  a  quiet  but  persistent  way.  it’s  like  their  mind’s  on  a  loop,  especially  when  they’re  alone  with  their  thoughts.  i’m  picking  up  on  some  water  sign  energy  with  a  bit  of  fire  thrown  in  there

[loveyourlovelysoul]

so true. it's about what we want to see, and consider, of another. but it's also a way we hurt ourselves, like when we expect others to behave in a certain way but they don't (cannot, for their own reasons) and we grow resentful and/or delusional. if we want to see the good side of people anyway, we need to overlook the pain and bad that they may do in general and to ourselves. or at least forgive their "imperfection": even the nicest person can do something that in our eyes is negative or bad (or that may hurt us, unwillingly), but has a purpose for them and their life. it doesn't mean they've turned bad. and in the same way, bad people can do good things too and it doesn't mean they've turned good. it depends on what you consider, on what you can overlook, on your own beliefs and values too. i think we really cannot put people in boxes. there's nothing so universal, and sometimes how we act and what we think of that, also depends on our traditions and cultures. the world is so wide, people are so many... i think people are just people, trying to fight their own (inner) demons the best they can. and yes, i may try to see a good side even out of the worse situation, but it doesn't mean i can overlook and forgive everything they do, at all. we always have a choice when it comes to how we react to a trigger... basic human respect is the bare minimum we have to offer to ourselves and others.

whatevs just me randomly blabbering here

[obito-in-disguise]

| Making you lunch |

How the naruto men make your lunch

Uchiha Sasuke

-Keeps it simple with homemade rice, grilled chicken, and a side of pickled vegetables, all neatly arranged.

-Acts indifferent when handing it over but blushes slightly when you praise him.

-Tells you not to expect it every day, that he only made it because he felt sorry for your cooking skills

-but you know he’ll make it for you again tomorrow.

-Secretly learned how to cook your favorite dishes just to impress you, pretends he didn't know when you act surprised.

-"Grilled chicken is your favourite?...who would've guessed"

Uzumaki Naruto

-Tries his best but somehow ends up packing a ridiculous amount of instant ramen and some poorly wrapped rice balls.

-Part of you is convinced he does it on purpose because you almost always offer him the leftover ramen. He pretends to be reluctant at first but then instantly scarfs it all down the moment you insist.

-Looks way too pleased with himself when he gets to eat the extra ramen, like it was his plan all along.

-Makes up for it by adding a few of your favorite snacks and a messy but sweet note, saying, “Eat up, dattebayo!”

-Hopes you don’t mind the slightly charred onigiri, he really tried.

Uchiha Itachi

-You can't remember the last time you made a meal since you met this man. Cooking was basically his love language at this point.

-Packs you a balanced, nutritious bento with homemade onigiri, grilled fish, and perfectly sliced vegetables.

-Includes a handwritten note reminding you to take care of yourself, with a little doodle of a cat. (he he)

-Completely overdoes it, making you enough to feed three people. Acts sheepish when you point it out. He just wants you to be healthy. :(

-Later, subtly checks if you finished the meal, always quietly relieved when you do.

Hyuuga Neji

-Packs a beautifully arranged, traditional bento with steamed rice, sautéed vegetables, and perfectly grilled teriyaki chicken. Every component is meticulously placed,nothing out of line.

-Adds a side dish with a subtle hint of sweetness, like a small portion of kinpira because he knows you like a bit of variety.

-Wraps the bento carefully in a cloth with a delicate knot, almost like a ritual.

-Hands it to you with his usual calm demeanor, saying, “It’s just lunch. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” But there’s a hint of softness in his tone.

- If you try to share with him, he’ll insist that it’s for you, but eventually, he’ll take a small bite when you persist because he secretly loves when you feed him.

Uchiha Obito

-Goes a little overboard, wanting to impress you, there’s a bit of everything in the lunch box.

-Tries to make it cute with heart-shaped onigiri but ends up with some amoeba-shaped ones.

-Awkwardly tells you it’s nothing special, but eagerly waits for your reaction.

-Is over the moon when you tell him you love it. Very happy and content for the rest of the day :D

-Practices shaping the onigiri late at night, determined to get it right one day.

Aburame Shino

-Meticulously plans out a balanced meal, incorporating seasonal ingredients and local produce.

-Adds a small honey-flavored dessert, subtly mentioning that it’s good for energy.

-Insists you have to eat everything in the order and color code he packed it in to enjoy the experience. (Undiagnosed OCD king)

-Quietly observes your reaction, feeling a bit more relaxed when you compliment his thoughtful choices.

-Takes your lunch prepping into his hands from that day onwards, quietly noting if you follow the order next time.

Hatake Kakashi

-Prepares a well-balanced and surprisingly elaborate meal, featuring grilled fish, miso soup, and perfectly seasoned vegetables.

-Keeps the presentation simple but elegant, not overdoing it, because he likes practical yet tasty meals.

-Hands it to you casually, acting like it’s no big deal, but subtly watches your reaction from the corner of his eye, leaning against the counter not so casually.

-Secretly happy he has someone to cook for now after living alone and making single meals for so long.

-Sometimes accidentally overcooks because he’s still adjusting to making more than one portion.

-If you compliment him, he just shrugs it off with a playful, “Don’t get used to it,” but the slight upward curve of his eye gives away his satisfaction.

Uchiha Shisui

-Whips up something colorful and fun, like octopus-shaped sausages and cute rice animals.

-Makes sure to add a little dessert, usually something sweet and homemade. Insists they're solely for you but will steal little bites out of them.

-Hands it over with a bright grin, saying, “Only the best for you!”

-Insists on feeding you every bite, says it's part of the 'Shisui lunchtime experience'

-"Say ahhh!"

-If you try to feed yourself, he’ll pout and insist that he's the one in charge of feeding you.

xxxxxx

We have a new addition to the headcanon list everyone!- Shisui! (Applause)

Please enjoy this celebratory post I made for hitting 500 followers, I do it all for ya'll!

I might do konoha founding fathers headcanons in the future, because ngl, Hashirama has me in a chokehold right now.

Feel free to check out more of my naruto fics and the rest of my work!

Tiny taglist- @catlover19282 @yoonsave777

[mckitterick]

When Noem testified before the Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Homeland Security, ranking member Senator Chris Murphy gave such powerful, informative, and important opening remarks I have to share:

transcript:

"I say this with seriousness and respect, but your department is out of control.

"You’re spending like you don’t have a budget. You are running out of money for this fiscal year. You are illegally refusing to spend funds that have been authorized by this Congress and appropriated by this committee. You are ignoring the immigration laws of this nation, implementing a brand new immigration system that you have invented that has little relation to the statutes that you are required to follow as spelled out in your oath of office. You are routinely violating the rights of immigrants who may not be citizens, but whether you like it or not, they have constitutional and statutory rights when they reside in the United States.

"Your agency acts as if laws don’t matter, as if the election gave you some mandate to violate the Constitution and the laws passed by this Congress. It did not give you that mandate. You act as if your disagreement with the law, or even the public’s disagreement with the law, is relevant and gives you the ability to create your own law. It does not give you that ability.

"Let’s start with your spending. You are on track to trigger the Anti-Deficiency act. That means you are on track to spend more money than you have been allocated by Congress. This is a rare occurrence and it is wildly illegal.

"Your agency will be broke by July, over two months before the end of the fiscal year. You may not think that Congress has allotted enough money to ICE, but the Constitution and the federal law does not allow you to spend more money than you have been given or to invent money.

"This obsession with spending at the border has left the country unprotected elsewhere. The security threats to national security are higher, not lower, since Trump came to office. To fund the border you have illegally gutted spending to cybersecurity.

"As we speak, Russian and Chinese hackers are having a field day attacking our nation. You have withdrawn funds for disaster prevention. Storms are going to kill more people because of your illegal withholding of these funds. Your myopia about the border fueled by President Trump’s prejudice against people who speak a different language have shattered most of this country’s most important defenses.

"Now let’s talk about the impoundments. When Congress appropriates funds for a specific purpose the administration has no discretion whether or not to spend that money unless you go through a specific process with this committee.

"Let me give you two of many instances of this illegal impoundment. The first is a shelter and services program. Senator Britt may want to zero that account out, but that account is funded in a bipartisan way. You may not like the program. Your policy is to treat migrants badly. I think that’s abhorrent, but it doesn’t matter that you don’t like the program. You cannot cancel spending in this program, and you cannot use the funds, as you have, to fund other things, like ICE.

"You have also cancelled citizenship and integration grants, which help lawful permanent residents become citizens, helping them take the citizenship test. I know your goal is to try to make life as hard as possible for immigrants, but that goal is not broadly shared by the American public. That’s why Congress, in a bipartisan way, for decades has funded this program to help immigrants become citizens.

"Now let’s talk about why encounters at the southern border are down so much. This is clearly going to be your primary talking point today. You will tell us that it represents as success. But the prime reason why encounters are down is because you are brazenly violating the law every hour of every day.

"You are refusing to allow people showing up at the southern border to apply for asylum. I acknowledge that you don’t believe that people should be allowed to apply for asylum, but the White House doesn’t get to choose that. The law requires you to process people who are showing up at the border to apply for asylum.

"Why? Because our asylum law is a bipartisan commitment, an effort to correct for our nation’s unconscionable decision to deny entry to Jews to this country who were being hunted and killed by the Nazis. Our nation, Republicans and Democrats, decided, wrote it into law, that we would not repeat that horror ever again, and thus we would allow for people who were fleeing terror and torture to come here, arrive at the border, and make a case for asylum.

"Finally let’s talk about these disappearances. In an autocratic society, people who the regime does not like or who are protesting the regime are often picked up off the street, and spirited away, often to open-ended detention. Sometimes they’re never seen again.

"What you are doing, both to individuals who have legal rights to stay here, like Kilmar Abrego Garcia, or students who are just protesting Trump’s policies, is immoral and, to follow the theme, it is illegal. You have no right to deport a student visa holder with no due process simply because they have spoken in a way that offends the President. You can’t remove migrants whom a court has given humanitarian protection from removal.

"Now, reports suggest that you are planning to remove immigrants with no due process and send them to prisons in Libya. Libya is in the middle of a civil war. It is subject to a level 4 travel advisory, meaning we tell American citizens never to travel to Libya. We don’t have an embassy there because it is not safe for our diplomats. Sending migrants with pending asylum claims into a war zone, just because it’s cruel, is so deeply disturbing.

"Listen, I understand that my Republican colleagues on this committee don’t view the policy as I do, don’t share my level of concern for the way the government treats immigrants, but what I don’t understand is why we don’t have consensus in the Senate and on this committee on the decision by this administration to impound the spending that we have decided together to allocate in defense of this nation.

"We as an appropriations committee worked interminable hours to write and pass this budget, and so we make ourselves irrelevant when we allow the administration to ignore what we have decided. And then when we look the other way when the administration rounds up immigrants who are here illegally and have committed no offenses worthy of detainment, we also do potential irreversible damage to the Constitution.

"These should not be partisan concerns—destroying the power of Congress, eroding individuals’ Constitutional rights. This should matter to both parties."

_

I never knew that our asylum laws arose from when we didn’t take Jews escaping from the Nazis. Both parties said never again. Yet here we are.

Everything this "administration" is doing is impeachable, and this Congress has a responsibility to get these criminals out of office and keep them out.

Contact your representatives and demand that they hold Homeland Security to account if they want to keep holding their offices - if they in fact want those offices to still be a thing in the future.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Can we talk about Harry having leadership thrust upon him in Deathly Hallows, please?

Like, I know he had a leadership role with the D.A. and with the Quidditch team to a lesser extent and he was always the leader of the Golden Trio, but I kinda want to talk about the flavor of leadership the wizarding population thrusts on him and how Harry is essentially the "promised king"/Jesus during DH. Like, there were 2 quotes specifically that really stood out to me, and I kinda wanted to talk about them even though I mentioned some of the points I bring up here before (if not in the same post in this way).

Like, I talked before about Harry's charisma and how others seem to see him, but there is something about the reverence he gets in DH, that makes me feel things.

I talked in the past about how Harry is the defacto leader of the Golden Trio when shit gets dangerous, and the D.A. treat him like the leader since fifth year:

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

(OotP, Ch18)

But, the rest of the WW kinda treat him like that too, even when he's a young child. Even in book 1, Harry isn't really seen as a person; he is a saviour, a public figure, a beacon:

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. [...] Harry shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

(PS, Ch5)

His time, his body, his existence isn't seen as his own — it's everyone's. It's why the Prophet keeps writing about him like they do, it's why everyone feels comfortable to stare and whisper about him to his face. It's why no one (in the wider population/school) is really concerned when Harry faces danger (like the tournament) — because he's Harry Potter. He isn't just some child, he's The Boy Who Lived.

And Scrimgeour and the Death Eaters all understand the political threat he could pose, if he was inclined to it, ad the asset he could be:

“It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry,” said Scrimgeour, sounding relieved that Harry had cottoned on so quickly. “ ‘The Chosen One,’ you know . . . It’s all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening. . . .” “But if I keep running in and out of the Ministry,” said Harry, still endeavoring to keep his voice friendly, “won’t that seem as though I approve of what the Ministry’s up to?” “Well,” said Scrimgeour, frowning slightly, “well, yes, that’s partly why we’d like —” “No, I don’t think that’ll work,” said Harry pleasantly. [...] “I don’t want to be used,” said Harry.

(HBP, Ch16) - I love how smart Harry is here. He has that Slytherin cunning when he wants to. He sees right through Scrimgeour and plays him so well.

“That’s certainly part of it,” said Lupin, “and it is a masterstroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you—the Boy Who Lived—were sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance to Voldemort. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hero’s death, Voldemort has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have defended you.

(DH, Ch11)

And Dumbledore purposely set him up for this position. Everything Dumbledore did, giving Harry the credit for his misadventures at school, putting him through fifth year in the public's eye only to come out as the Chosen One the ministry prosecuted unrightfully (because Dumbledore planned for that. He positioned Harry with him and set the stage for when he lores Voldemort to show himself). Harry was set up to be seen as a saviour to the Wizarding World. To be the symbol and Dumbledore's successor in the public eye.

The instructions Dumbledore left for the Order to follow before his death fit this goal too (Remus implies it at least). He sets Harry as his successor, whether Harry wanted it or not:

Lupin hesitated. “I’ll understand if you can’t confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission.”

(DH, Ch11)

“Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you’ve appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?” “I do,” said Lupin firmly. “There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. ’The Boy Who Lived’ remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting.” [...] “And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?” “I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly, “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated.

(DH, Ch22)

They back him up in spirit, they resist in small ways, but none of them is waging a war, not yet. Everyone, adults and teens, is waiting for Harry's order to start the real fight. They are waiting for Harry to lead them into battle. The Order is literally just focusing on hiding and keeping its members alive and hidden until Harry's orders:

“What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?” “Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we—Ron, Hermione, and I—need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.” Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused. “What d’you mean, ’get out of here’?” [...] “I sent for her,” said Neville, holding up the fake Galleon. “I promised her and Ginny that if you turned up I’d let them know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.” [...] “We’re fighting aren’t we?” said Dean, taking out his fake Galleon. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wand, though—”

(DH, Ch29)

That's insane.

Like, all these people were readying for a fight, they were prepared for months. Neville led a whole underground resistance on his own, Kingsley led the Order in hiding and kept the idea of Harry alive, he goes on to become the next minister — but neither of them really does anything on their own. At least nothing big. They don't help the muggleborns in the Ministry, they can rally people, but not in their own right. Like with Hermione and the D.A., Kingsley and Neville are rallying people around Harry.

And all their preparations and machinations are just waiting for Haryr's word. Just waiting for the king to give his general (Neville) the word to rally the troops — because this is what happens at the end of DH.

I specifically want to talk about this quote:

The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years’ worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things. Good luck, Harry wherever you are. If you read this, Harry, we’re all behind you! Long live Harry Potter.

(DH, Ch17) - Quote number 1 that really stood out to me.

"Long live Harry Potter"

Like, this line stood out to me. This is a "long live the king" sort of line that's so on the nose. And I know as a Fandom we call Harry a war symbol, but I don't think we really talk about it. and how much Harry is aware of it, and somewhat accepts it, because he has no choice.

About how the WW truly hinges their salvation on this 17-year-old kid. How Harry just being alive is a sign of resistance.

How when he arrives at Hogwarts, everyone is convinced he's there to lead a battle. Adults look to him to tell them what to do:

“Time’s running out, Voldemort’s getting nearer. Professor, I’m acting on Dumbledore’s orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the students out while I’m searching the castle—It’s me Voldemort wants, but he won’t care about killing a few more or less, not now—”’ not now he knows I’m attacking Horcruxes. Harry finished the sentence in his head. “You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” she repeated with a look of dawning wonder. Then she drew herself up to her fullest height. “We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you search for this—this object.” “Is that possible?” “I think so,” said Professor McGonagall dryly, “we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. [...] “Harry, what’s happening?” said Lupin, meeting him at the foot of the stairs. [...] “They’re evacuating the younger kids and everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to get organized,” Harry said. “We’re fighting.” There was a great roar and a surge toward the foot of the stairs, he was pressed back against the wall as they ran past him, the mingled members of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore’s Army, and Harry’s old Quidditch team, all with their wands drawn, heading up into the main castle.

(DH, Ch30)

Everyone turns to Harry to tell them what's happening and what to do. McGonagall, Lupin, and everyone else who was called to the battle arrived because of Harry. They were ready to fight and die to end Voldemort, but they were only willing to take the risk because Harry told them they had a chance. Because they had faith in Harry.

If they believed they could do it without him, they wouldn't have waited. But they waited for Harry's order. He didn't even need to tell them anything beyond: get the innocents out and fight. He didn't force anyone to do anything; he didn't really order anyone — they are just willing to follow him to a crazy degree.

And Harry doesn't like it, but he knows how to lead people and stay calm under pressure; it's what he does because he never allows himself to show weakness. Harry is looked at by adults way more experienced than him because Dumbledore told them "Harry would know what to do". Harry was thrust into this position and is crumbling so badly but no one except Ron and Hermione see it... and even they don't see it all.

They try to help, and get him to get help from others:

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione, who murmured, “I think Ron’s right. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, we need them.” And when Harry looked unconvinced, “You don’t have to do everything alone, Harry.” Harry thought fast, his scar still prickling, his head threatening to split again. Dumbledore had warned against telling anyone but Ron and Hermione about the Horcruxes. Secrets and lies, that’s how we grew up, and Albus. . . he was a natural. . . Was he turning into Dumbledore, keeping his secrets clutched to his chest, afraid to trust? But Dumbledore had trusted Snape, and where had that led? To murder at the top of the highest tower. . .

(DH, Ch29)

The message is against Dumbledore's secrecy, that trusting and asking for help is good... But in the end, Harry is alone. He is much more similar to Dumbledore than he wants to be. He accepts the position Dumbledore set him up for. When he faces death, he leaves Neville with a mission, just like Dumbledore:

“No,” Harry lied easily. “’Course not . . . this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s name, Neville? He’s got a huge snake. . . . Calls it Nagini . . . ” [...] But he pulled himself together again; This was crucial, he must be like Dumbledore, keep a cool head, make sure there were backups, others to carry on. Dumbledore had died knowing that three people still knew about the Horcruxes; now Neville will take Harry’s place. There would still be three in the secret.

(DH, Ch34)

This above section kills me. Because it is exactly what Dumbledore did (except Dumbledore chose the position, Harry didn't). Harry, as much as he dislikes it, is a leader; he knows people, he understands he can't show weakness, and that there are things he has to do alone. He knows he needs contingencies, that he needs to lie... He is a leader when push comes to shove, always was.

What's insane to me is that Harry is this wise, and has this understanding of sacrifice at 17! Sure, Dumbledore understood all of these things too, was as politically savvy as Harry (well, a bit more), as charismatic and as good of a liar, but we (and the Wizarding World) saw him like that when he was over 100 years old! Even when he fought Gridnlewald, he was 64 (he was born in 1881). Harry is so young for all of this. When Dumbledore chose to die for the mission, he was 115, Harry was 17.

I just... Harry, man. He's so mature because he never got to be a childhood in the first place.

(I think, like Dumbledore, if Harry asked to be Minister (which he would never), the WW would say yes)

And, like Dumbledore, Harry is alone in his position. The position of a figurehead is a lonely place. You keep secrets, you lie, you can't show weakness. And even if Harry had Ron and Hermione (which Dumbledore didn't), who cared for him and knew him and his struggles, and loved him as just Harry, at the end of the day, he is alone. The Wizarding World looked to him. When they arrived at the RoR, everyone looked to Harry. They were happy to see Ron & Hermione, but it was Harry who carried their hopes.

And when he walks to face death, he does it alone:

The castle was empty. He felt ghostly striding through it alone, as if he had already died. The portrait people were still missing from their frames; the whole place was eerily still, as if all its remaining lifeblood were concentrated in the Great Hall where the dead and the mourners were crammed. [...] The Resurrection Stone slipped from between his numb fingers, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw his parents, Sirius, and Lupin vanish as he stepped forward into the firelight. At that moment he felt that nobody mattered but Voldemort. It was just the two of them.

(DH, Ch34)

And then, again when he faced Voldemort after he came back from the dead:

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help.” Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.” [...] They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort’s.

(DH, Ch36)

Harry's strength of character kills me. I love him, and he didn't deserve any of it. Nor did he ask for it. But he felt it was his responsibility — his duty. Dumbledore taught him that he can only count on himself and Dumbledore's plan, and this is what Harry does, regardless of all his doubts about Dumbledore — because he doesn't have a choice.

The other scene in Deathly Hallows really hits home the Jesus/"long live Harry Potter" bit for me, is this one:

Harry could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last—

(DH, Ch36) - Quote number 2 that really stood out to me.

I know he died and came back; there are plenty of religious allegories when it comes to Harry and his story, but I care more about the Wizarding World & Harry's reaction to it than the actual symbolism itself in this post.

Because this mirrors the first time Harry arrives at Diagon Alley. People flock to him (a saviour — not a person, the Boy Who Lived — not Harry), to try and touch him. Like just being in his proximity could be their salvation. Harry is someone who sacrificed everything (both unwillingly and willingly) for them — his childhood, his studies, his parents, his godfather, his happiness, his health, his life — but they don't see the sacrifice for the most part. They don't see Harry when he's tired or crying because Harry learned long before he arrived at Hogwarts to hide his pain, that no one cared if he cried.

I just love how empty "long live Harry Potter" is. He is their saviour, the promised king who would return to save them when they need him most. He is Jesus come back from the dead, he is King Arthur returned, he is the Boy Who Lived — he is everything except just Harry.

And Harry doesn't complain because when did that ever help him. He lets everyone try to reach out to him because he understands on some level (since he's 11) that he unfortunately isn't just his own. That he was never just Harry. (mentioned it a little here)

(One of the other things that bother me about the epilogue is that it ignores all of that. Like, I can't imagine the Wizarding World acting normal about Harry anytime soon after DH. They were never normal about Harry, and after he came back from the dead and defeated Voldemort again, you're telling me people would treat him like he's any other celebrity? Like, he is The Boy Who Lived Twice, and you're telling me people would be normal about that? After they practically worshipped this poor kid for a whole year, maybe more, depending on how you count?)