#james's parents

[dazzlemebaby]

James: Today I realized I am old.

Regulus: What do you mean?

James: I fell over at the park today with Harry, and instead of laughing he ran over to see if I was okay.

Regulus:

James: I saw fear in his eyes.

[maluceh]

the potters

[fallenbratfiction]

Devoted - bucky barnes x f!reader

Husband! Bucky Barnes can’t take his eyes or his hands off of you. He has to make the biggest effort around the kids, and honestly, it’s all you’ve ever dreamed of.

A/N: Growing up with parents who you've never seen kissing, hugging, or saying "love you" to each other, yeah, it does something to you. I recommend you listen to like real people do while reading.

warnings: domestic fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, bucky being a dream husband, vulnerable talk, parental PDA and kids being grossed out (but funny), so so so wholesome.

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minors dni with this story or blog. you're responsible for what you do. do not copy, translate or claim this story as your own.

Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed (and cried) writing this!

You grew up in a house where love was... quiet. If it was there at all, it never spoke. No kisses over coffee. No lingering glances. No hands held on road trips. “I love you” was said with the same flat tone as “dinner’s ready.” It taught you that love was restraint. Conditional. Measured.

No one yelled, but no one kissed. No one fought, but no one held hands. “I love you” was something you overheard in movies — not around the dinner table.

You grew up unsure if your parents loved each other, or just… merely existed beside one another. Tolerated each other. Did they love each other? You still don’t know. Maybe they didn’t, and maybe that’s what scared you the most.

Because it made you wonder if that was all love ever was.

And then you met Bucky Barnes.

And he rewrote everything.

When Bucky Barnes came into your life, it felt like getting hit with sunlight after decades in the dark.

He's unapologetically soft for you. Hands always reaching—brushing your hair back, pulling you close, squeezing your hip as he walks by. Your kids are so over it.

“Do you have to do that now?” your oldest groans as Bucky kisses your cheek in the middle of the grocery store. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Your mom’s hot.” You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm. Every single time.

It’s the little things Bucky does that undo you.

Like when you're driving the kids to school, and he insists on holding your hand — even when you're the one behind the wheel. His fingers slide between yours easily, resting on your thigh, warm and grounding. His thumb draws lazy circles against your skin as you maneuver turns, one hand on the wheel, one hand in his.

“You know this is wildly impractical,” you tease, eyes flicking over to him.

He grins, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, voice low and smug. “Don’t care. I gotta hold my girl.” “Can you not be in love for five minutes?” your son groans.

You and Bucky just laugh. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like some old-timey gentleman who also happens to be a menace. And still doesn’t let go.

Bucky, who hugs you from behind while you’re cooking and whispers in your ear like a menace "Skip dinner, let’s order in and make out on the couch."

Your daughter and son groan loudly from the couch, “OH MY GOD.” “I’m gonna pour bleach in my eyes!” Bucky laughs, holding you tighter with his metal arm snug around your waist, “Love you too, buddy.”

He kisses you while you're folding laundry. He dances with you in the kitchen just because the song is good. Tells you he loves you like it’s as natural as breathing — because for him, it is.

And yeah, sometimes he says dumb things like,

"Bucky, why is the car so hot?" He throws you a wink. “Cause you got in it.” A chorus of “Daaaaaad!” erupts from the backseat.

“Oh my god.” Your son gags. “I’m gonna be ill.” Bucky glances at them through the mirror, unfazed. “Good. Builds immunity.”

But under all the dramatics, they smile when they think you’re not looking. They giggle when he slow dances with you in the kitchen, or calls you doll like it’s sacred. They see it. They know it’s real. They know it’s safe.

You didn’t grow up with love like this — but you’re raising them with it. And that matters.

That night, after the kids are asleep and the house is finally quiet, you curl up beside him on the bed, wearing one of his old shirts and nothing else. The air is warm and soft-lit, and you’re sunk so deep into the quiet you almost don’t want to break it.

But you do.

“Can I tell you something kind of dumb?” you murmur.

“Doll, you could talk nonsense for hours and I’d still nod along like it’s gospel.”

You laugh, but it fades. “Sometimes I still wait for it to stop.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Stop?”

You bite your lip. “I grew up thinking love didn't exist or wasn't meant to be shown. That it had to be quiet. Conditional. Measured. So sometimes I still catch myself waiting for the moment it… ends. That you leave. That it all disappears.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment. Then he reaches out and touches your cheek like he’s holding something fragile and precious. Because he is.

“Doll… whoever taught you that love had to be small, they were so wrong. I need to love you like this. Big. Loud. Always. I need to hold your hand while we’re driving and kiss your neck while you're stirring the pasta.” He swallows hard. “I want to love you in a way you never have to question. Ever.”

Tears prick your eyes, and he pulls you into his lap, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, and your mouth.

You kiss him like you’re trying to press every word you haven’t said yet into his mouth. And he lets you—hands on your waist, grounding you, holding you like he’s scared you might vanish if he lets go.

When you finally pull back, just far enough to breathe, he’s looking at you like you hung the stars in the damn sky.

“I think about it a lot,” he says softly, voice rough, “how lucky I got.”

You blink, heart thudding. “Bucky…”

“No, listen.” He brushes your hair back, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “After everything I’ve seen—everything I’ve done—I didn’t think I’d get this. I thought my story ended in blood and silence. And then there you were. Warm, loud, bossy as hell—loving me without flinching.”

You shake your head, tears building. “You don’t have to thank me—”

“I do.” His voice breaks. “I have to thank you every damn day. For seeing me when I couldn’t. For staying when it was hard. For giving me this life. The kids. You. All of it.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just kiss him again, slow and deep, a promise pressed into skin.

And as his hands slide up your back, pulling you impossibly closer, you think— Yeah. You got lucky too.

You pull back eventually, breathless, heart full. And then you rise to your feet.

He looks up, dazed. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

You smirk, already halfway to the hallway. “Gotta make sure the door’s locked,” you call over your shoulder. “We don’t want to traumatize them.”

Bucky groans, laughing, throwing himself back against the pillows. “You’re killin’ me.”

“And I’ll bring you back to life, Barnes.” You wink, hovering over him, straddling his waist as his hands slide up, thumbs rubbing slow, hiking closer to the hem of your shirt.

You smirk, leaning over him, ready to take your place on top — but before you can, his hands slide around your waist. In one smooth motion, he flips you over, pinning you gently beneath him.

“Not so fast, doll,” he murmurs, grinning as he settles between your legs. “You always think you’re in charge.”

You arch a brow, breath hitching. “And you love it.”

He laughs under his breath, eyes dark and soft all at once. He leans down, brushing your hair back to kiss your neck — slow and deep, with a bite that makes you shiver.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

You exhale a laugh, heart skipping. “You always wanna take care of me.”

He smiles against your skin, lips trailing lower, worship in every movement.

“Damn right I do.”

Because loving you isn’t a duty. It’s instinct. It’s devotion.

I am a mix of emotions! 🥹💕😫🤧 I really enjoyed writing husband! Bucky and I will definitely do it again!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, feel free to leave your opinion!

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged as they help this story grow! ✨✨✨

[mydeadgaywizards]

sirius and/or regulus telling a story: "when i was little..."

remus and james: *braces for the absolute worse*

[a-great-tragedy]

Based on what I know, I do not think Sirius and Regulus were even taught being gay was possible. I think Walburga/Orion refused to teach them it even exists. So I imagine them finding out like this:

Sirius: Yeah, if I was a girl I would probably date Remus to be honest. Such a shame it’s impossible for me to like him.

James: Impossible? What do you mean??

Sirius: Well you can only like people of the opposite gender.. right?

James: …No, you can like people of the same gender, that exists. It’s a thing.

Sirius: ( °ㅁ°)

Sirius: I must tell Reg

[sable-520]

*Jegulus and little Harry at an Indian restaurant*

James: This is the culture of our ancestors, I’m Indian which makes you half-Indian Harry.

Harry: No I’m not. I’m gay! I’m gay!

Regulus: Honey, no, you’re not gay. You are just confused…

Regulus: oh my god I sound just like my mother

[b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m]

At age two, Regulus sneezed and Walburga wiped his face until it was red and he was crying, furious that he had "embarrassed her".

At age nine, Regulus fell over at a function and Sirius pulled him up, hissing to hurry before their parents saw.

At age seventeen, Regulus had a cold and James stayed with him all day, giving him medicine and cuddling with him to keep him warm.

[moony-talks]

In Regulus and James’ entire relationship, James only raised his voice once during a heated argument.

Regulus had look so scared of him, just for a moment, that James swore he’d never raise his voice ever again at anyone. Regulus was hurt by so many people. James refused to be one of them.

[not-rab]

Harry, jumping out of Regulus’ closet: BOO!

Regulus:

Harry:

Regulus:

Harry: *makes a sad face*

Regulus: Ahh Merlin you scared me!!

[atlasdoe]

"James takes care of everyone, but who takes care of James?"

SIRIUS HIS BEST FRIEND WHO WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM!!!! HIS PARENTS WHO SPOIL HIM TO DEATH!!!! REMUS WHO CAN ONLY SAY GOOD THINGS ABOUT HIM!!!!!! LILY HIS FUCKING WIFE!!!!!

[dazzlemebaby]

When Regulus was a little boy he had a lisp, and his mother couldn’t stand it.

It was completely normal, his tutors would tell her. He’ll likely grow out of it, and if he doesn’t, there are courses and speech classes to help. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just something that can happen. Speech impediments were actually quite common in bilingual children (which was later proven to not be true, but this was the sixties).

But that wasn’t good enough for Walburga Black.

Say it again, she’d snap.

‘S-s-s-sc—

Properly, Regulus. Do not embarrass this family.

He learned to speak quietly. Slowly. Carefully. He learned that words were traps and breath could betray you. And by the time he did grow out of it, he barely spoke at all.

Years later, Harry lisped through “Snitch” at age two and James just grinned, scooped him up, and said, “You got it, little lad! We’ll practice. You’re brilliant.”

And Regulus, sitting on their couch with tea he didn’t drink and a heart full of love from a man he wasn’t sure he deserved, watched James kiss Harry’s curls and felt something inside him unravel.

This is what it’s supposed to be like, he thought.

This is what I could have sounded like, if someone had just let me.

[moonyswarmsweaters]

Regulus: i cut my finger and it's bleeding

James: just apply pressure onto it

Regulus, to his finger: if you don't toughen up your family will disown you. Trust me, i know.

James, getting his medical kit:….

[yourgalgremlin]

Fleamont Potter who makes a plan the day he takes in Sirius Black as his own son in 1975.

Fleamont Potter who waits until James makes Regulus his son-in-law to make a heartwarming “father-of-both-grooms” speech at their wedding reception.

Fleamont Potter who leaves said wedding reception to go find Orion Black in his swanky members-only billiards hall—saying:

“Hello, my name is Fleamont Potter. You abused my kids, Sirius & Regulus. They’re fine now, but the same can’t be said for you.”

& then breaks Orion’s kneecap in with his own pool cue.

[The vision]

[garforarts]

Merry Christmas! 🎄

[outtagum]

LINDSAY LOHAN pays homage to The Parent Trap in Annie James and Hallie Parker-Inspired Outfits on the Freakier Friday press tour

[thebctman]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SUPERMAN

I actually think the change regarding Superman’s parents is pretty interesting. As time moves forward, more and more stories have the House of El and Krypton itself be more evil and more colonizing.

And honestly, it’s not a horrible choice and it still works well with Clark’s story of being an immigrant. Krypton is a shitty place, and that is undeniable. It is why the planet died and it why Krypton is given a bad rep in the comics.

Krypton was destroyed through generations of work and it died through its actions. My Adventures with Superman actually highlighted this in such an interesting way as well.

On a personal note, often a lot of immigrants leave their homes because they have to leave because the values that are within its government or just in its surrounding are just not good. And that creates a deep feeling of alienation in young immigrants or immigrants’ children.

And it is the shittiest feeling on Earth because that doesn’t mean you won’t miss them. In fact, you’re going to grieve it everyday. You will miss a language you can’t understand, the smell of a culture’s food and the feeling of belonging that settles right into your bones.

You will spend the rest of your life missing a place that cannot welcome you back. And you will spend your life wondering what your life could’ve been if just somethings were just different.

We tend to grasp onto the little things we have left and make a whole idealized image around it until we learn the reality of our first home. It’s a brutal and often difficult process that leaves a person adrift and stranded in their grief.

Often immigrants and especially their children/first generation have to reckon with that and that is what this movie highlights.

The movie highlights that and that immigrants and first generation are often judged on our ancestry rather than our actions.

People see Clark as an outsider due to his blood. That no matter what he does, what he says, he will perpetually be a foreigner in the house that raised him, and he will spend his life trying to change that. It will break him but he will get up back, and he chooses to do so above all. He chooses to believe in people’s capacity for love rather than hate.

It also highlights how even though we can come from shitty places, we can still be good. We are not defined by generalization, we are not defined by the actions of the past but our own actions. We take in the beliefs of the people around us and that is reflected by Clark.

Clark Kent is Superman because of the Kents, not because of anything Jor-El did.