Janaina Medeiros
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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occasionally subtle
RMH
Game of Thrones Daily
sheepfilms
@theartofmadeline
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Today's Document
★
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ellievsbear
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Jules of Nature
Sweet Seals For You, Always
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
almost home
styofa doing anything
🪼
seen from United States
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@sxrgeant
mcu based indie Bucky Barnes
Multi verse/fandom - low/medium activity
carrd - ask - starters - promo
prompts - au verses - headcanons
usfw sideblog (mutuals only): @heysxrge
multi muse: @ncvelty
EST. 2/22 ✪ REVAMPED 1/25 (previously sxrgeantbarnes)
©
* thunderbolts spoilers *
happy birthday bucky barnes I love you dearly I promise I will get back to digging in your thoughts one day ❤️
everyone who sent me things/tagged me in things despite the fact that I wasn’t active, you have my heart btw. I’m still surprised any of you still follow me like all my mutuals are so talented and good aaah I’m so happy to be looking at my dash again
inspired by things @forthewinn and I have done this past (almost) week….
What end of summer activity is your muse doing with Bucky?!
going to the beach at low tide to find sea glass and cool shells
taking an old vintage trolley ride through nature
picking peaches at an orchard
baking & eating strawberry shortcake
going to a bar with friends and playing pool
lounging on the beach on a hot day and cooling off in the ocean
eating lunch in front of a pond & getting ice cream after
binging old sitcoms and taking naps
~for diana do not click~
[ teasing ] a light brushing of lips against a partner's skin without fully kissing | @alwaysxinxtrouble | x
He’s worrying his lip too much, he could practically hear his mother’s exasperated voice telling him to relax his jaw in the back of his mind. Unfortunately, it’s no louder than his brain firing up plan after plan, and promptly arguing against every one as he stares at a tablet containing information for their next mission. He’s been in the same position on Matt’s couch since he got back from his meeting with the rest of the team, giving a kiss hello and an excuse of ‘I just need to figure out one thing really quick.’
The only thing that breaks him through his thoughts is the warmth of Matt pressing closer, and the familiar feeling of lips dragging up his neck in the ghost of a kiss. A could-be, but not quite. It’s enough to make him freeze, his bottom lip popping out between his own teeth, only for him to lick over it.
He’s not being kissed, it’s a tease. Matt and his distracting lips making themselves known. “I need to…” He trails off when those lips brush against his ear. And yeah, he can push Avengers business off for a while.
He practically throws the tablet onto the ground, turning his body to wrap his arm around Matt’s waist and lean into him. “Alright, alright. I’m all yours.” He speaks with a grin, leaning his head forward to get a proper kiss.
oslo … she could work with oslo . although a honeymoon cruise ... that was an interesting choice . one that has her looking down at the silver ring now adorning her finger , blinking a few times as she looks at the diamonds . pretty . she almost feels bad for the girl missing it . “ i’m more of a gold type of girl . but it’ll do . ” of course it didn’t matter . but he was standing there so cross she had to say something .
now to get on the boat ... they had no IDs — not ones that would match any guests . and while brute force could get them on , it wasn’t very 'undercover' of them . hmm … green eyes fall onto the boy checking names up ahead . young , fidgety , a stutter to his words . one look told her he wasn't a fan of confrontation and with his urgency to get passengers on board , they were on a tight schedule . perfect .
yelena had a knack for making people uncomfortable . an easy way out of a bind when everyday people were involved . flirting her way on with her husband’s arms wrapped around her wasn't a good look so ... she had other ideas . while they’re still a little ways back , she leans into him , back flush with his chest , head tipping to the side so she’s looking up at him . “ play along , pretend i’m drunk , i don’t care . just don’t stop walking when we get up there . ”
He rolls her eyes at her instructions even as his hand moves to hold her hip. There’s a very stubborn part of him, born from decades carving his own path, that wants to scowl at any one else making the decisions. Telling him what to do— he might just have childishly done the opposite of what she says if he didn’t need to get on this damn boat. It wouldn’t be productive in getting away from the threats nipping at their heels somewhere in this city if he stopped in his tracks simply because someone instructed him to keep walking.
It helps, though, that the two of them seem to be on the same page, moving in step with one another without stumbling along the way. He wonders if it’s their personalities— but knows it’s more likely to be their training. Ghosts of HYDRA’s guidance instilled into a soldier, who was there to help streamline a training program instilled into a widow. Lines that don’t run parallel, but cross.
It’d be nice to take out the people hunting them before the two of them inevitably clash too much to work together as well as they are now. That’s the goal, anyway.
The shape of her body is completely unfamiliar in his arms, but it takes nothing for him to hold her close like he’s known her intimately enough to get down on one knee for her. Her American accent makes him snort, and hiding his grin oh so affectionately into her forehead only helps their cause. It’s a good plan, playing the role of drunk insatiable newlyweds— and she plays it well enough to keep his attention the entire time they stumble through the half assed security and onto the ship.
“Oh, was that happy?” He raises a brow. Surely another emotion can be better described for that little show— you won't find him complaining.
He scans the hallways they’re in, lips pursed slightly in thought. He didn’t actually think much past ‘get on ship’. If he were by himself, he’d find a way to slip around and stow away without bothering with a bed. But there’s some deep ingrained gentleman in him that sends him looking for a way to get an actual room. Sure, he could kill her if he had to, but he’s not going to let her sleep below deck with rats.
“We need to bunker down,” He starts, taking her hand in his as a couple passes and holding on as he leads her through corridors. He doesn’t stop their wandering until he passes a cleaning cart, the crew occupied with linens. His free hand lifts the clipboard hanging from the side of the cart.
Pencil and paper, so underused these days but so useful. There’s a printed column of room numbers and the names attached to them. Graphite straight lines along each one taken care of, ignoring the blank space under room #339 and #402. Empty rooms. It’s as good a lead as any.
“Take your pick, sweetheart.”
pssst. @forthewinn. i see u.
ɪғ ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ʜɪs ᴘᴀɪɴ… ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴀɴsғᴇʀ ɪᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs sᴏᴜʟ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ. ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ. ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʀʏ ᴀs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄᴜᴛ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʜɪᴛ ᴀs ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ sᴜғғᴇʀɪɴɢ. ɪ ʙʟᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ.& ɪɴ ᴛᴜʀɴ, ʜᴇ ʙʟᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ.ғᴜɴɴʏ, ʜᴏᴡ ʟɪғᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ғᴜʟʟ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇ”
@sxrgeant
I don’t mean to post 90% ooc these last few weeks but I’m completely unsatisfied with everything I write and it’s making my brain hurt.
I knew him.
Richard Siken, "Boot Theory," Crush
"i stopped being me such a long time ago,
i can’t even remember who that was."
independent, mutuals only and selective tj hammond from political animals penned by g
[ teasing ] a light brushing of lips against a partner's skin without fully kissing | @raisedcold | x
There’s something about the juxtaposition of heat and goosebumps that could easily have him hooked if he lets it. Her lips ghost along his jawline and every hair on the back of his neck stands to attention, a warmth running through his veins— it’d be embarrassing to feel so reactive if he was currently interested in focusing on anything beside her breath fanning across his skin.
He lets his head turn, tilt, close to meeting her but not quite. “Are you having fun?”
Writing shorter replies is so hard guys. I’m incapable of rambling.
Writing shorter replies is so hard guys. I’m incapable of rambling.
He moves at a dizzying speed. Something dangerous. Something inhuman... There's hardly enough time for a sharp breath in before impact, lungs collapsing with the force of him, breath spilling out in a desperate plea.
"Wait! Wait, please! Don't-"
Both hands fly up to protectively cover her mouth and nose as if expecting something more, leaving the rest of her sentence to dissipate into the pulmonary space somewhere between her ribs and his imagination. It's muscle memory that feeds her instinctive reaction; something indicative of the fact she's been in this situation before... Can already taste the ether-like odor of a chloroform-drenched rag she presumes will greet her senses in moments following.
But it never comes.
There's no chemicals to disconnect her from her consciousness. No hand on her throat's pulse points to sever oxygen to the brain for compliance. Only questions.
And they make absolutely no sense.
"What?" An almost whisper. "What are you talking about?"
Her hands slowly slip their shielding, falling from her face to push roughly against his shoulders. Once. Twice. It does nothing for her. "Get off me!" A third push in vain. What is this guy made of, stone? "You can't take me," pausing, softer now, "I won't go..." Violet flattens back against the door, making herself as small and unthreatening as possible. Those wide doe eyes speak volumes to her fear and her attempts at peace.
but even the gentle deer lashes out when cornered.
She winds up in a half second, fingers folding to a closed fist as she swings for his cheekbone with as much force as her small frame can muster in the space allotted. If this is how she's meant to die, she wouldn't go out without a fight.
Her reaction stops fight or flight instincts right in its tracks, body freezing in confusion. She’s going on the defensive, he’d expected that. It’s the way she defends herself– disjointed to the current situation, like she’s not shielding herself from him, but from a different attack entirely. Her hands to her nose and mouth, anticipation for something else.
It’s not just that, anyway. People react strangely when threatened. It’s her eyes.
He swallows, staring into them as her pushes don’t move him an inch. They don’t even jostle, he’s firmly put. Investigating, hold on. There’s fight in her, clearly, but beyond that is genuine fear. Enough of it that it becomes the part that matters. Her words fall to the back burner— he’ll get back to those— but her fear sends a chill down his spine.
It’s not the first time someone has looked at him like this. He has all those memories burned in his mind, usually the last thing he saw in a pair of eyes before life is snuffed out of them. But he doesn’t do that anymore. That kind of look directed at him elicits emotion in him now, and not anything good.
His hands start to loosen at the exact same time she takes a swing. He missed it coming— it doesn’t hurt. There’s not enough force behind it, only enough to push his head briefly to the side.
He takes a breath, “Don’t do that.” Spoken in dismay as his hands let go of her arms, but land on either side of her, still cornering. “I’m not taking you anywhere. You came to me.” His eyes bounce over her face, left to right like reading a book— attempting to, at least.
“Chasing or running?”
My daughter and I - (2025)
Single dad, 108, NYC, still in good shape.
