#Bridges Project Help

[cat-mentality]

No one touches me I'm just so utterly emotional about the fact that Quackity invited Cellbit to his passion project and now Cellbit invited Quackity to HIS passion project.

Like holy shit, a few months ago none of those people knew each other and look at them now making fucking international travels to meet and support each other

[marcobodtlives]

Scale of 1-10 how tear-jerkingly awful would a Bridge to Terabithia JeanMarco AU be?

(Ask inbox open and I would love to hear people’s thoughts? 🥹)

[mainfaggot]

just watched challengers at the cinema w my little sister. it was so intense wtf

[pondscummy]

so me and roommate L talked on Sunday and I finally like aired some of my grievances and was like hey you really hurt me w how you treated me during my recovery and I realized I actually really don't feel like I can safely communicate with you and I haven't felt like I could for a very long time. and they did apologize and we decided to just be polite roommates and not friends at all and that's a big relief honestly bc now I'm not carrying around this tension the way I was before bc I know there's not expectation from either side but like. it's also freed me up mentally where I'm not thinking about all the immediate stuff anymore and instead I'm like remembering various random things that pissed me off but weren't big enough to focus on before lmao

the one I'm stuck on rn is how insistent they are that I'm on the spectrum. idk they do a lot of explaining myself to me that makes me like. bro shut Up you don't know what my lived experience is like lol you have no concept of anything. which. for context I have a dx and I thought I was on the spectrum for years and years but weirdly enough going to therapy and working through my ptsd made a lot of those symptoms just.... start vanishing. and one of my friends had been undiagnosed for the same reason so it got me thinking about it and talking to my therapist at the time and like. ptsd can present rly similarly. like I was neglected and abused as a child and I literally did not learn social skills, and I was very fearful of other people. as I like worked through the stuff that had instilled that in me and found my stride w stepping out of my comfort zone and getting comfortable being uncomfortable I really don't find it particularly hard to talk to people. I retook the RAADS and I got that I have tendencies but am not anywhere near diagnostic level. I'm literally moving states bc I find the idea of being in a new place and starting from scratch socially rly exciting and I want to like go out to events on my own and meet people both through apps and more organically and I want to get to be in the office with my coworkers like. obv there's more to a dx than just social anxiety but the things that my dx was primarily based in (social anxiety, need for stability/routine, aversion to connection, even sensory issues) are so easily linked back to trauma for me and like. being on the spectrum doesn't go away w therapy?? also I've found it harder and harder to befriend other people on the spectrum; I find I have less in common as time goes on and that my communication style is more focused on like small talk and less directness etc. and I don't tend to get special interests at all anymore like I find it a little difficult to discuss interests w people for long periods of time.

anyway idk my experiences just make me think that it was an incorrect dx but a rly understandable one. I'll probably always have tendencies and get along pretty well w others who do or who are on the spectrum but like I just don't think that I am. and whenever I tried to talk about this with them they'd shut it down and be like um I'm pretty sure you are lmao. and when we talked Sunday I made a comment about making some assumptions about their facial expressions at one point and they were like well we're both on the spectrum so. and I was like my guy I can read facial expressions just fine. if you're saying I can't read yours accurately bc You're on the spectrum then fine. sure. I actually think it's bc you're always so fucking stoned that every muscle in your face is dangling from the frame, personally, but like. i don't have this probably of misreading anyone else dude. like ffs stop armchair diagnosing me and acting like bc you said it then it's law. UGHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHH. it would be one thing if I thought they were saying this stuff bc they think I'm distancing myself out of internalized ableism or something. but it really seems more like they bring it up only to tell me how bad I am at things. which like I'm sorry lmao but. if I'm not giving this vibe to anyone else and I'm not displaying symptoms predominantly in my day to day life and if they're rly seeming to be correlated to my ptsd, maybe you're literally just triggering for me to be around. asshat

[feralparsnip]

reactionary disabled people you piss me off so bad but also i love you and i'm fucking coming for you and i WILL build a bridge between your understanding and mine if it fucking. kills me. listen to me. there is a path where we feed NOBODY to the human grist mill and you sell no parts of your soul and trade on no parts of yourself to the Big Machine That Eats People and throw nobody under the bus and your life is not sustained on the blood of those more vulnerable than you. ok. that's possible. and once you understand that that's possible, it will transform you in ways you cannot now imagine. and if that doesn't make sense to you yet. well. i'm fucking going to make it make sense.

[geekonik]

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[reasonsforhope]

"Claire Cao was only a senior in high school when she saw a vital need in her community — and filled it. 

In 2024, the teenager spent her time outside of school volunteering at Blanchet House, a Portland-based nonprofit that serves people experiencing homelessness through food donations, clothing drives, and mental health assistance programs. 

As she logged hours as a Blanchet House student ambassador, Cao soon realized how difficult it was for community members to keep track of shelter openings, rotating food service programs, and available mental health resources. 

“During one afternoon meal service, I met Dano, an unhoused man who shared his struggles with accessing basic services like food and shelter,��� Cao said in a recent press release. 

“Left disconnected from essential services, Dano described his struggles of not knowing where to go or which shelters had available beds.”

Combining her love for technology, law, and public policy, Cao pulled available resources into a database and created the ShelterBridge app, which connects users to shelters and services in their area. 

“ShelterBridge wasn’t simply inspired by Dano — it was inspired by the realization that access to resources is a fundamental need that we, as a community, can do a better job of providing,” Cao emphasized. 

“I wanted to use my skills to build something that could bridge that gap, ensuring that no one falls through the cracks simply because they don’t know where to turn for help.”

In addition to linking users to services in their area, the app also has a rating system similar to Yelp. This system allows people to leave star ratings and reviews on shelters, food services, hotlines, and legal aid. 

The ratings not only help users differentiate between services in their area — but they also provide invaluable feedback to the nonprofits, organizations, and government programs that service them. 

“We've been asking for an app like this for a number of years now,” Scott Kerman, executive director of Blanchet House, told Portland news station KGW.

In mid-January, Cao won the 2024 Congressional App Challenge in Oregon’s First District for her work with ShelterBridge — outcompeting 12,682 student submissions. 

Since the app first launched, Cao and her growing ShelterBridge team — which includes enterprising high schoolers and college students from across the nation — have expanded services to California, Philadelphia, Seattle, Los Angeles, and North Carolina. 

“Claire and the team she’s working with deserve all the credit in the world because they're doing something that frankly nobody else has really stepped up to do,” Kerman said. 

“To have the kind of technology that we use every day with hotels and other kinds of reservations [to] help people get into safe, supportive and dignified shelter would be a game changer for our community.”

Although the app started as a class project, Cao said ShelterBridge’s success has far surpassed her expectations. 

“I do hope to keep it up,” she told Oregon outlet KOIN 6 News, as she looked ahead to college and beyond. “I’ve made a lot of efforts to expand it to other cities as well — and it’s something I can mostly do from a computer or my laptop at home.”

-via GoodGoodGood, March 21, 2025

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[actual-corpse]

OF COURSE THERES A PLACE CALLED FUCKING "DOOMS CHAPEL" IN CREEP-ASS SYMSONIA!

[batboyblog]

Things the Biden-Harris Administration Did This Week #39

October 18-25 2024.

President Biden issued the first presidential apology on behalf of the federal government to America's Native American population for the Indian boarding school policy. For 150 years the federal government operated a system of schools which aimed to destroy Native culture through the forced assimilation of native children. At these schools students faced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and close to 1,000 died. The Biden-Harris Administration has been historic for Native and Tribal rights. From the appointment of the first ever Native American cabinet member, Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, to the investment of $46 billion dollars on tribal land, to 200 new co-stewardship agreements. The last 4 years have seen a historic investment in and expansion of tribal rights.

The Biden-Harris Administration proposed a new rule which would make contraceptive medication (the pill) free over the counter with most Insurance. The new rule would ban cost sharing for contraception products, including the pill, condoms, and emergency contraception. On top of over the counter medications, the new rule will also strength protections for prescribed contraception without cost sharing as well.

The EPA announced its finalized rule strengthening standards for lead paint dust in pre-1978 housing and child care facilities. There is no safe level of exposure to lead particularly for children who can suffer long term developmental consequences from lead exposure. The new standards set the lowest level of lead particle that can be identified by a lab as the standard for lead abatement. It's estimated 31 million homes built before the ban on lead paint in 1978 have lead paint and 3.8 million of those have one or more children under the age of 6. The new rule will mean 1.2 million fewer people, including over 300,000 children will not be exposed to lead particles every year. This comes after the Biden-Harris Administration announced its goal to remove and replace all lead pipes in America by the end of the decade.

The Department of Transportation announced a $50 million dollar fine against American Airlines for its treatment of disabled passengers and their wheelchairs. The fine stems from a number of incidences of humiliating and unfair treatment of passages between 2019 and 2023, as well as video documented evidence of mishandling wheelchairs and damaging them. Half the fine will go to replacing such damaged wheelchairs. The Biden administration has leveled a historic number of fines against the airlines ($225 million) for their failures. It also published a Airline Passengers with Disabilities Bill of Rights, passed a new rule accessible lavatories on aircraft, and is working on a rule to require airlines to replace lost or damaged wheelchairs with equal equipment at once.

The Department of Energy announced $430 million dollars to help boost domestic clean energy manufacturing in former coal communities. This invests in projects in 15 different communities, in places like Texas, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Kentucky, and Michigan. The plan will bring about 1,900 new jobs in communities struggling with the loss of coal. Projects include making insulation out of recycled cardboard, low carbon cement production, and industrial fiber hemp processing.

The Department of Transportation announced $4.2 billion in new infrastructure investment. The money will go to 44 projects across the country. For example the MBTA will get $400 million to replace the 92 year old Draw 1 bridge and renovate North Station.

The Department of Transportation announced nearly $200 million to replace aging natural gas pipes. Leaking gas lines represent a serious public health risk and also cost costumers. Planned replacements in Georgia and North Carolina for example will save the average costumer there over $900 on their gas bill a year. Replacing leaking lines will also remove 1,000 metric tons of methane pollution, annually.

The Department of the Interior announced $244 million to address legacy pollution in Pennsylvania coal country. This comes on top of $400 million invested earlier this year. This investment will help close dangerous mine shafts, reclaim unstable slopes, improve water quality by treating acid mine drainage, and restore water supplies damaged by mining.

Data shows that President Biden's Inflation Reduction Act (passed with Vice-President Harris' tie breaking vote) has saved seniors $1 billion dollars on out-of-pocket drug costs. Seniors with certain high priced drugs saw their yearly out of pocket costs capped at $3,500 for 2024. In 2024 all seniors using Medicare Part D will see their out of pocket costs capped at $2,000 for the year. It's estimated if the $2,000 cap had been in effect this year 4.6 million seniors would have hit it by June and not have had to pay any more for medication for the rest of the year.

The Department of Education announced a new proposed rule to bring student debt relief for 8 million struggling borrowers. The Biden-Harris Administration has managed despite road blocks from Republicans in Congress, the courts and law suits from Republican states to bring student loan forgiveness to 5 million Americans so far through different programs. This latest rule would take into account many financial hardships faced by people to determine if they qualify to have their student loans forgiven. The final rule cannot be finalized before 2025 meaning its fate will be decided at the election.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 billion in 92 partner-driven conservation projects. These projects aim at making farming more susceptible and environmental friendly, 16 projects are about water conservation in the West, 6 support use of innovative technologies to reduce enteric methane emissions in livestock. $100 million has been earmarked for Tribal-led projects.

[storrmytherabbit]

AAAHHHHHHH!

[everlastingserenitys]

snowfall.

summ. winter break was approaching which meant having two of your polar opposite best friends help you warm u– i mean help with your project of course!

pairing. zayne x f!reader x caleb cw. nerd!zayne, jock!caleb (more like failing student), college au, threesome, p in v, oral, est. friend group, teasing, calebs a freak, reassurance, slightly sick reader, fingering, dirty talk, lil bit of fluff, wearing glasses while 👀, 2.7k wc (cries) a/n. IMHORNYIMHORN-

“It’s freezing. I can't believe they assigned a group project in this weather!” Caleb shivered, glancing at the pair next to him who were perfectly fine.

“Seriously guys? Are you not cold? Like at all?"

Zayne sighed and pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, slightly shaking his head as he eyed down Caleb’s outfit. “If you weren't wearing shorts and a light jacket you wouldn’t be cold.”

Caleb only rolled his eyes in response and lingered his gaze on you. You were wearing a comfortable winter jacket and a fluffy winter hat resting on your head. The strings dangling against your face at every step you took.

“Pips, look over there.” Caleb pointed at a random direction and when you turned your head, the hat that was once on your head was gone.

You stare at Caleb in disbelief and try to reach for your hat but he kept pulling away and soon placed the hat on his head.

“Seriously?” you groaned and tried grabbing onto it but Caleb already ran meters away from you. A stupid smirk was plastered on his lips as he mockingly waved at you, yelling something you couldn't hear from the gusts of snow flickering against your skin.

“Don’t worry about him, we’re almost at his dorm. I’ll make you something nice to warm up.” Zayne offered. You smile and nod at him before ducking your head down as the three of you continue your walk in the crazy snow.

And before you knew it, the three of you were already at Caleb’s fancy dorm. His room was surprisingly clean, spacious, and warm. The second you walk in and feel the heat surge through your body, you immediately head to the couch and plop on the soft mattress.

“Here's ya hat back.” Caleb threw your hat right at your face and you grumbled something incoherent under your breath before sitting up and noticing the two men making something in the kitchen.

“Coffee or hot chocolate?” Zayne asked, dangling the two packs of powder in front of him. You ponder for a moment and eventually choose hot chocolate. Zayne nodded and started making your drink.

“Damn…Want some marshmallows with that too?” Caleb asked, lightly banging closed the cabinet that he had opened, pulling out an ingredient that was most definitely not marshmallows.

“No it's okay..” you mutter, turning your body away from the angry tension between the two of you and reaching into your bag for the papers for the project. You slam the papers on the coffee table and slump against the edge of the couch, patiently waiting for your little group members to come back.

A few minutes pass and Zayne comes back with yours and his drink, carefully placing it on the table before sitting diagonally from you. And without even waiting for Caleb he started grabbing the papers and his pen–which was resting in his pocket–and started writing away.

You eventually did the same, grabbing one of the papers and your pencil and started working on the project.

Caleb comes back around five minutes later and sits in the opposite direction of Zayne, rocking himself back and forth against the ground as he watches you and Zayne work away.

“Caleb, are you going to do your part?” you ask, shifting the paper closer to him. But Caleb shrugged and picked up the paper, glancing at it before putting it back down seconds later. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and stared at you and Zayne with a confused look.

“What do we even do?–Ow!” Caleb winced as he rubbed his arm, staring at Zayne with a mocking pout on his lips. A small thud of an eraser fell on the ground and Caleb soon picked it up and juggled it around his fingers.

“Read the instructions.” You say, pointing at the top of the paper with the end of your pen. But Caleb only grabbed the paper and leaned in closer towards you.

“Wanna read it for me? pleasee?"

You roll your eyes and grab his paper, putting the end of your pen against each word on the page.

“After. Writing. Your. Personal. Essay. Get. Wit–”

“I’m not that stupid.” he scoffed and looked at you as he waited for you to actually read the instructions properly.

And so you do. The project wasn’t hard at all. Before getting into groups you had to write a personal essay about your experience in the class or your experience with somebody in the class but Caleb hasn't even shown up for a week.

After you explained the project Caleb hummed and backed away from you, “I just have to write my personal experience first?” he asked, bringing out his laptop and placing it on the table. You nod and tell him the next steps.

“And once you're done with the essay, this is where the group stuff comes in…” you explain the rest of the project and Caleb absorbs every word spitting out your mouth as he types away on his computer.

“Experience with the class, huh?”

“Or somebody in the class.” you correct, jotting down a few more things on your paper.

“So can I write about any experience with you? Or thoughts I ha–”

Zayne cleared his throat and glanced at Caleb with a displeased and back at you with a concerned look. You shook your head at him and fanned your hands at Caleb, telling him he could do what he wanted.

“Just don't make it too weird, we have to make a presentation later, okay?”

“Mhmm…anyway ‘s a bit chilly in here dontcha think?” Caleb got up from the ground and headed over to turn the heaters on but before he could even flick the switch to the right temperature the lights flicker and shuts off momentarily.

“That wasn’t me!” he said, flicking the light switches up and down, and when the light wasn't turning on that was when you all realized…

“Power went off, must've been the snow…” Zayne pondered, glancing at the window and got up from his seat to raise the blinds up. A bright white light illuminated the room and Caleb sighed in relief.

“Since there's no heater, we will have to deal with the cold. But it should come ba–”

Before Caleb could finish his sentence an ‘achoo!’ left your lips and you sniffled your nose, staring at the two men who had a flash of concern filled in their eyes, mainly Zayne though.

“Got medicine, Caleb?” Zayne asked as he started opening every drawer near him.

“Ah, shit…I forgot to buy some more but don't worry she only sneezed once, she should be okay. right?"

You nodded and continued your work but not even another minute passed and you just kept sneezing and coughing.

“Cold? C’mere.” Caleb patted on his lap and, of course, since you were cold you immediately climbed on his lap, nuzzling your cold body against his warm skin, his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer, practically cuddling you on the ground.

“You’re also going to get sick.” Zayne muttered, staring at Caleb who had a light smile plastered on his lips as he rocked you back and forth.

“I don't even show up to classes so there's no difference if I do get sick…But…”

Caleb beckoned a finger at Zayne who just shook his head in response, “I'm not going to be the next person to get sick, Nope.”

“Let’s make it even, c’mon.”

Zayne rolled his eyes and stood up, walking the opposite direction from the two of you, to the bathroom. a displeased scoff was heard from Caleb and you eventually pulled yourself away from him, sitting at your seat next to him and rested your head against the edge of the couch.

“Already done?”

Zayne comes back and a relieved sigh left his lips when he noticed you weren't clinging onto Caleb like a koala, he had somehow found some medicine hiding somewhere in Caleb's bathroom and he walked towards you, holding the small liquid bottle in front of you.

You take the medicine from his hand and eye it before chugging down the liquid. Zayne patted your head and took the medicine back, heading over to the kitchen and propped the items on the counter.

“I feel a little better now,” you say, grabbing your papers and pen before writing away, “let's finish doing this before the power comes back.”

But as time passed it started to get colder, and colder in Caleb’s dorm. You shiver at every stroke your pen puts on the paper and try to press your knees closer to your chest as the only warmth you had was the soft fabric of your pants pressed against you.

“Pips you’re shivering like crazy, you sure you’re okay?”

“Do you seriously not have a blanket? Anything?” you ask through shivered teeth, but Caleb winces in response and shrugs.

“They’re kiindaa in the laundry…which isn’t working at the moment…”

You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled in response.

“I mean, if you want…” Caleb’s voice had a hint of teasingness filled in it and you had a feeling where he was going.

When the three of you were younger Caleb made a rule where when it was freezing, freezing cold the three of you would huddle up together and hug each other until each person felt warm, nothing harmless, in fact, it was cute.

But after all of you started growing up, those little games weren't something you had time for, especially being in college and focusing on studies. But now that Caleb brought it up again you felt a wave of nostalgia rush through you and a cold laugh leaves your lips.

“Seriously? Aren’t we too old for that little rule?” You say.

Caleb laughed and Zayne only stared at him with a confused look.

“So since we’re older should we try a different way?” Caleb suggested.

And, oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant.

“Uh…”

You glance at Zayne who was sipping on his hot chocolate as he looked away from the two of you, trying to not include himself in this conversation. But the second Caleb called out his name and offered the suggestion again, Zayne dramatically choked on his drink.

“She's sick, Caleb.”

“Come on, i have no blankets or anything to warm her up, just this once?”

---

You weren't sure how Zayne agreed either.

The second a sigh of defeat left Zayne’s lips, Caleb took it as a sign that they could actually try out that little method together.

Caleb slid his fingers along your back as he pulled you closer, pressing your plump cheeks against him. He slowly rode himself against you, fabrics of his and your pants meddling with each other as the room started to echo with whimpers and moans.

Caleb tucked a finger under your pants and slid the material off as if he was ripping a smooth piece of paper.

Caleb nodded to Zayne who was just standing in front of you, staring at your flushed face with a concerned look. His arms were crossed as he stepped closer, legs coming mere inches to your face.

“What if she gets even more sick, hm?” Zayne asked, resting his fingers on his belt as he started to unbuckle it.

“You’re concerned if she’s sick,” Caleb’s chest pressed against your back and a low whimper escaped your lips. Before you could turn around to look at Caleb, he already had his fingers sunk deep in you.

“But you’re undressing yourself?”

Zayne ignored his teasing remark and slid his fingers through your hair, yanking your head up and pressing your face against his soaked boxers. Your tongue darts to the wet fabric and you slick along the imprint of his boner before sucking on it.

“J-just.. wan’ her to be…ngh” Zayne pressed himself closer against you as he soon brought his other hand and sunk his fingers under his boxers, slowly sliding them down, letting his cock spring out.

“Warm. That's what you wanted–too Caleb?”

Caleb only grinned in response and curled his fingers, pressing against your weak spots. A loud moan escapes your lips and you clasp onto Zayne’s thigh. You soon felt those fingers slip out of you and another sticky thing pressed against your soaking entrance.

“This should get her, right?”

Without knowing what the two men were about to do, Caleb raised your hips at an angle and Zayne brushed your bottom lip, slightly parting them together before bobbing his leaking tip against your lips.

And before you could even process what was going on both of them thrusted into you at the same time.

Your eyes widened in shock when you felt Zayne’s length slice open your mouth by the second, he slowly pushed himself in and out of you, not letting you take his full length, not yet. Your eyes roll back at the ecstasy and you swirl your tongue around his veiny, hard length.

He held onto your hair with ease and slowly pushed your head back and forth, back and forthhh.

Broken, muffled moans left your lips at every thrust he was giving you. Your bottom half started to feel numb, your legs shaking in pleasure when you felt Caleb slide his cold fingers along your waist before clasping onto you like it was the last thing he needed in life.

He was practically pounding you, his hard tip hit every right spot and you felt your head bob back and forth at the impact of his brutal thrusts. Caleb moaned in pleasure as his pace started to quicken inside you.

“Y-you feel so w-warm and oh, so good…” he gulped, sliding his fingers down your bare, flushed, plump cheeks, giving them a squeeze. Your body jolts in pleasure and you grip on the floorboard, nails digging deep into the glossed wood that was breaking apart by the second.

Caleb pressed down your lower back, making your back arch, giving him more space to see the mess pooling down your roughed up pussy. You didn't even notice he had already came inside you and you couldn't even warn him about it because Zayne was still trapped inside your mouth.

You look up at Zayne with teary eyes, a quiet gasp escapes his lips as he starts pushing himself deeper and deeper inside you, glasses slowly sliding down his nose and—oh.

The metal frame fell right on your nose, the glass and heavy object left a sting flaring on your nose, you coughed up a moan as you picked up the wilted glasses on the ground trying to raise your arm up to give the glasses back.

But what does Zayne do? He shook his head and made you put on the glasses, and oh fuck.

You glance up at him, unable to recognize his face because of the prescription but also because of your teary eyes unable to disappear no matter how much you wipe them. As Zayne was getting close to release you felt his grip on the sides of your face grow tighter and tighter.

His fingertips dug on your neck and he soon pulled your head away, slick of his pre trailed along your lips and Zayne wrapped his fingers around his cock, slowly pumping his fist as he stared at your flushed, dumbfounded face.

“za-ngh”

Caleb thrusts himself into you one more time, your lower stomach felt like you were getting filled up by him at every thrust he gave you. His same large presence shadowed over you again and his fingers found their way to your clit, pinching and pulling on it.

The feeling of white, spurts of cum sprawled all over your face and dripped down your legs, your vision through the glasses gets clouded at every breath you took.

When Caleb slid out of your bruised, sensitive cunt you plopped on your knees, panting as if you were getting chased by murderers.

But one thing neither of you noticed during the time you had together was that the power was back on.

“Feeling warmed up, pips?” Caleb laughed ruffling your hair before helping you get up.

“Let’s get cleaned.” Zayne offered, also helping you up.

---

After you got cleaned and put into some comfortable clothing, all three of you sat at your table and started on work again.

“I finally know what I'm going to write about!” Caleb cheered and brought his laptop to his lap, already starting to type away.

“Please don’t.” you and Zayne say in unison.

“Don’t worry i won–” before Caleb could finish his sentence a loud sneeze echoed through the room.

Fuck.

a/n. this one was a lil random sorry if its not great lol... but need them SOOO bad.

[saturnyo]

I love your writingg!!! Could I request a cute Joel x reader where they're cuddling on the couch on a grey rainy day and Joel has his head leaning on reader's shoulder with his nose pressed to her neck and then his hand just casually pulls reader's top slightly down to look at her breast and reader playfully scolds him but later ensues into smut

Rainy Days, Greedy Eyes

Thank you, anon, for this request. I do hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Joel x Reader

Warnings: Language, Oral, P in V sex, Fingering, Soft!Joel x Filthy!Joel, Praise kink, Established relationship, Light breeding kink vibes (implied, not stated),

WC: a lil over 2.4k

It had been a long day out patrolling your assigned area with Jesse and Dina. The wind was bitingly cold, adding to the weariness in your bones.

A few clickers here and some runners there—it wasn’t anything you three couldn’t handle. It was cut short because of the inclement weather starting to roll in. The dark, jagged clouds seemed angry, like bruised knuckles, rain beating down, roaring its disapproval, unrelenting against your back. The trek back to Jackson felt longer than normal. The familiar walls were a welcome sight as the gates opened up, letting out a groan against the mechanisms pulling it open, matching the same weariness you were currently feeling.

Sore. Wrung out. Craving the warmth of a fire, cuddling up to the man you love. Despite the noises of various people asking questions about how the patrol went, reports, or what sightings of infected you saw, and helping your horse back to the stables, you nodded, murmured a reply you didn’t even hear yourself say.

There was only one thing on your mind at the moment.

You walk inside the familiar suburban home, catching the sight of a worn brown leather jacket hanging on the coat rack. A smile flitters across your face, joy spreading in your chest at who is in your home. The sound of a saw grates against your ears, coming from the small basement workshop you have downstairs. He didn’t hear you approach, being too focused on the task at hand, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he squinted at his current project like he’s willing it into submission.

“Mr. Miller, if you keep squinting like that I fear you may somehow go blind,” you said.

Joel didn’t even flinch from where he sat. Still perfectly poised on his stool and hunched over the workbench. He just kept working on the stubborn piece of wood, trying to shape it—whatever he was trying to make this time. His muscles in his forearm flexed, tendons shifting like the gears in something you just couldn’t resist.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, slow and thick, voice like molasses poured over gravel, “if I do go blind, it’ll be from starin’ at you too long.”

Then he turned. Really turned. Slid his glasses up with one hand so he could see you clearly—and when he did, that look hit you like a goddamn truck. The kind of gaze that didn’t waver or drift. The kind that sank into you.

His brows dipped, voice softening. “Baby… you look so tired.”

You exhaled, the weight of the day suddenly sitting heavier on your shoulders.

“Yeah. It was a long one. Ran into some clickers. Couple runners. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

His eyes darkened, his jaw tightened. He always did that when it came to you patrolling, and if you got hurt—no matter the circumstances. Joel disagreed—well, more like downright said hell no—when Tommy mentioned you could start heading out for patrols. His fear overrode all logic, even knowing you were fully capable. Joel crossed the space between you, slow and sure, taking your face gently into his hands.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No,” you murmured, shaking your head. “Just tired. And cold.”

Joel hummed—low, thoughtful—that familiar sound rumbling from his chest like a distant thunder roll. He looked at you like he always did… like you were something precious, even now, with your hair damp and sticking to your face, eyes heavy from the weight of the day. You knew you looked a mess. Didn’t matter. Not to him.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, rough and warm against the chill clinging to your skin.

“I told Tommy you shouldn’t be out there.”

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it,” he said, steady and firm, “every fuckin’ time.”

Then he leaned in, his presence swallowing the chill in an instant. You could smell him—cedar, sawdust, the faint bite of old cologne buried in flannel. He smelled like home, like heat, like his hands would be warm even in the snow.

He dipped his head close, voice dropping to a hush.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s go somewhere warm. Fire’s goin’. Couch’s waitin’.”

The glowing fire cast a shade of orange across the lines and grooves of Joel’s face, making him look even more defined. His disheveled hair tickled your chin as his head rested on your chest, the weight centering you in place. Feeling safe and grounded, his breathing and light touches circling your thigh were comforting. His fingers danced along the outside of your pants, sending your nerves alight. Like a whisper with teeth.

Nothing screamed urgency. It was just you and him alone, and the world outside was closed off, unable to break apart your peace. You breathed in sharply as the circles he drew on your thighs—tracing the seam of your pants near your knee and back up—grew slower, tantalizing. Testing you, teasing you. The corners of his mouth curled when the side of his face started to press against your boobs.

Joel just couldn’t get enough of them, grabbing and teasing them every chance he got. In bed at night, he would curl up against you, lying his head in the same exact spot as he was now, using them as personal pillows. But you didn’t mind. The closeness was something you treasured after witnessing the harshness of reality.

His eyes fell from your face to your chest as his hands finally moved to the collar of your shirt. Your brow furrowed as Joel pulled the fabric slightly, giving him the perfect glimpse of your boobs. Rolling your eyes as you chuckled at his antics, a deep belly laugh spilled out before you could catch it—loud and warm, shaking your shoulders and making Joel’s smile go crooked.

“Joel! That’s very naughty and misbehaving,” you said playfully. “Trying to get a full view of my chest, huh?”

He looked back up at you, eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming with something dark—mischievous, hungry. His voice dropped low, slow, like he wanted every word to sink into your skin and stay there.

“Baby,” he rasped, “if I wanted a full view of your chest, I wouldn’t be takin’ a peek…”

His fingers tugged a little more at the collar, thumb brushing the edge of your skin.

“I’d be takin’ your damn shirt off.”

The way he said it—so calm, cool, and collected. It wasn’t a threat but a promise. A promise you hoped he would fulfill, sending a wave of heat rushing between your legs. His rough hands found their way underneath your shirt, staking a claim where everyone in Jackson would know whose woman you are. His touch was unforgiving, needy, like he’d been holding back all day.

He sat in that office of his, spending hours figuring out how to quicken the pace of construction of the new homes in town, as Maria had asked. His hands—calloused, warm—slid up beneath the fabric slow, but not gentle. Not hesitant. Like he already knew every inch of you but needed to remind your body that it was him who gets to touch it, not anyone else.

Joel cupped your breast with a possessive pressure that made your breath hitch, thumbs grazing your nipples until they stiffened under his touch. Your shirt bunched around your ribs as his palms roamed, shifting his weight as he carefully laid you onto your back. He was hungry, starving like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. A soft gasp was coaxed from your lips as he pressed his hard-on against your clothed pussy. Your back arched as you ground your hips against him like you could smother the ache that had been building up since you got home.

“Yeah,” Joel breathed, voice ragged with desire. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Take what you need.”

You whimpered, helpless under his weight as the fire continued to cast shadow across his face. He leaned in, teeth scraping along the pulse in your neck—not biting, but letting you feel how close he was to doing it. You didn’t get a word out before he ripped off your clothes. Joel tossed your shirt and pants to the side, already moving to the clasp of your bra, leaving you just in your panties. You arched, desperate, as the fabric popped free. His eyes dropped.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hissed, sinking slightly down below as he put one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. One hand palmed the other breast, squeezing, claiming, rough fingers dragging over the peak until you moaned out loud—no shame, no filter, just need.

“You’ve been walking around all day with these beneath your gear?” Joel growled, licking a slow stripe along your chest. “Breaks my brain that you’re mine.”

His hands worked fast, finally taking off your underwear, tugging them down your hips. You gasped as the cold air hit your wet cunt, but the heat of Joel’s breath was right behind it.

“Fuck me,” Joel rasped. His eyes locked onto the slick mess between your thighs. His voice was barely above a whisper but it hit—like gravel dragged across velvet. “Is that all for me, darlin’?”

You couldn’t answer. Especially not when his thick fingers spread your folds apart, exposing the glistening heat beneath. Cool air kissed your clit. Then came the heat of his mouth.

He started licking like a man who was starved.

Flat tongue dragged from your entrance to your clit, expertly moving, savoring like it’s a meal he’d earned after years in hell. Then he did it again. And again. Each pass more firm, more wet, sloppier. Until his whole face was buried in your pussy, moaning like he’d die if you even thought about pulling away.

You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head, squeezing, and grabbing his hair—anchoring yourself as he devoured you.

“Joel—fuck—baby—please…”

“Mmmmm.” His voice vibrated right against your clit, and your hips jerked restlessly. He held them down.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. You can take it.”

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking. Slow and tight, his tongue flicking as he pumped his fingers back inside you—two thick ones curling deep, stroking your sweet spot until you were writhing under him once again.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. His lips were soaked and his beard was shining with your wetness. “Ride my fuckin’ face… please.”

And God, you did.

You rocked against him—just a mess, moaning—wailing—as his tongue moved with perfect precision. His fingers fucked into you, harder and faster, filthy wet sounds filling the room alongside the crackle of the fire. The heat of it matched the intensity of his thrusting fingers, making you wild with need.

Your orgasm hit like a wave crashing against the shore—sharp, hot, blinding. Your whole body seized as you came with a cry, your legs trembling, cunt pulsing around his fingers as he kept licking, eating, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Love how you taste,” he growled. He finally pulled away, dragging his mouth across your stomach and up your chest, giving you a kiss that tasted exactly like you.

Then he stood—tall, solid like a rock. You saw the thick line of his cock straining behind his jeans and reached for him, desperate to feel his touch again. You wanted to feel him in your hands, in your mouth—but he grabbed your wrists, stopping you in your place, and pinned them above your head as he leaned over you.

“You think I’m done with you, darlin’?” Joel rasped. “Not yet.”

He reached down, unbuckling his belt with one hand while still holding you down. The clink of his belt hitting the floor made your mouth water. His jeans finally hit the floor, his boxers following close behind as his cock sprang free, tip wet, dripping with need. He stroked himself twice, spreading the slick over the head before lining himself up.

“You’re gonna take every inch,” Joel growled, voice trembling with restraint. “No squirming. Just let me stretch you out.”

And then he pushed in.

Slow and relentless. Your breath hitched, eyes flying open as your walls stretched open to fit him. He groaned low, head dropping to your shoulder as he shuddered, cock buried deep.

“Always so tight for me, baby,” he growled into your neck, hips still, letting you feel how full he made you.

Then he moved.

Hard and smooth, dragging almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a rhythm that had your whole body rocking against the cushions. The slapping of wet skin echoed off the plaster walls—obscene, perfect.

Joel fucked you like he meant it, grip unyielding, his mouth whispering pure filth in your ear.

“Good girl. Takin’ it all so well…”

“You feel that, baby? How deep I am?”

“This pussy—fuck—is mine. Do you hear me?”

And with every thrust, every word, you felt your second orgasm building up. Hotter. Messier. And Joel knew. Of course he knew. His hand slid between both of you, finding your clit again, rubbing fast in perfect sync with his thrusts.

“Come for me, baby,” he growled. “Cream all over my fuckin’ cock.”

And then you did. You screamed. Shattered. Came so hard you swore you saw white, your cunt squeezing him tight, milking him, dragging a deep, guttural growl from his chest. He thrust twice more, then spilled inside you with a broken moan, cock pulsing thick ropes of heat into your still-clenching walls.

He stayed there for a moment, still buried deep, hips grinding through the aftershocks, both of you shaking and gasping, tangled in sweat.

“Fuck,” Joel panted. “Remind me to misbehave more often.”

The room was quiet now, save for the low crackle of the fire. Joel was still laying between your legs, his head back on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. His heartbeat slowed down to match yours, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn’t with lust—but with a softness only you ever got to see.

His expression held awe—a part of him still in disbelief that you chose him. That you, out of all the people in Jackson, chose an aging, gray-haired old man to love.

Joel reached up, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers grazing your cheek.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness.

You nodded, smiling lazily, still drunk on him. “Yes, I’m okay.”

Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Then another on your cheek. Then one to your lips—slow, gentle, like he was trying to taste you all over again. But this time… it was with worship.

“Good,” he whispered. “’Cause we ain’t movin’ from this spot for a while.”

And you didn’t.

You chuckled at his playful antics, his fingers tracing shapes lazily on your hips, your bodies tangled together on the old, worn-out couch, warm from the fire, and from him.

[hope-for-the-planet]

From the article:

Above the whirring of 300,000 cars each day on Los Angeles’s 101 freeway, an ambitious project is taking shape. The Wallis Annenberg wildlife crossing is the largest wildlife bridge in the world at 210ft long and 174ft wide, and this week it’s had help taking shape: soil. “This is the soul of the project,” says Beth Pratt, the regional executive director, California, at the National Wildlife Federation, who has worked on making the crossing become a reality over the last 13 years. She says she’s seen many milestones, like the 26m pounds of concrete poured to create the structure, but this one is special. “To be able to put my hand in that soil and toss it on and know that we’ll be putting milkweed plants that will flourish for monarch butterflies, or picturing the first mountain lion paw print on that soil,” she says, fills her with hope. “It is wonderful to watch this habitat take shape.” The plot is a native wildlife habitat that connects two parts of the Santa Monica mountain range, with the hopes of saving creatures – from the famous local mountain lions, down to frogs and insects – from being crushed by cars on one of the nation’s busiest roadways. With nearly an acre of local plants on either side and thick vegetated sound walls 12ft high to dampen light and noise for nocturnal animals as they slip across, it’s an unprecedented feat of engineering. Imagination, too. The project began in 2022 through a public-private partnership that brought together many organizations to cover the $92m in costs, according to Caltrans, the state transportation department. Research shows that wildlife crossings save money because it limits animal interactions with vehicles.

[happy74827]

Bruised Shadows

[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: While coming home from another grueling job, Bucky found himself ambushed by the unrelenting warmth of his neighbor’s compassion.

WC: 3002

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Grumpy x Sunshine (fav trope fr)

I decided to post one of my drafts since it has been decades since I’ve posted last… whoops 👀

『••✎••』

Bucky Barnes didn’t notice the blood until it dripped onto the scuffed toe of his boot. A crimson bead, sharp against the black leather, caught the dim hallway light as he trudged toward his apartment. He swiped the back of his flesh hand across the bridge of his nose, smearing the trickle, and grunted. Didn’t hurt. Barely registered. The serum had a way of dulling the sting of split skin and bruised bone—nothing a few hours wouldn’t knit back together. The ache in his knuckles from the job, though? That lingered, a quiet reminder of the fists he’d thrown and the unconscious bodies he’d left sprawled in some warehouse two states over.

The duffel bag slung over his vibranium shoulder thumped rhythmically against his hip, heavy with gear he hadn’t bothered to unpack. Another day, another mess cleaned up with Sam, for which he took most of the credit, but Bucky didn’t care much about the public eye—just the doing. It kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Kept the nightmares at bay, if only for a night.

He was three steps from his door, key already fished from his pocket, when he heard it—your voice, soft as a damn spring breeze, cutting through the stale air of the hallway.

"James?"

He froze but didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew it was you—only you called his name like that like it wasn’t a curse or a weapon. Like it was just… his. He clenched his jaw, the ache in his bruised eye socket pulsing faintly as he willed you to keep walking. You lived two doors down, always too close for comfort, always too you—bright and warm and everything he wasn’t. He’d spent months dodging the way you lingered in his trajectory, all soft smiles and small talk he didn’t deserve.

"James, oh my God, what happened to your face?"

There it was—concern, thick and unfiltered, wrapping around him like a blanket he didn’t ask for. He turned his head just enough to catch you in his peripheral, and Christ, there you were—hair a little messy from whatever late-night project you’d been buried in, eyes wide and shining with that unbearable kindness. You were clutching a mug, steam curling from it, probably tea or something equally gentle. You looked like an angel, and he felt like the devil himself standing there, bloodied and hulking in his tactical gear.

"It’s nothing," he muttered, voice low and rough, turning back to his door. "I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding." Your footsteps pattered closer, too quick for him to escape, and suddenly you were right there—close enough that he could smell the lavender on you, feel the warmth radiating off your skin. His metal arm twitched, instinct screaming at him to pull away before he tainted you somehow. "Your nose, your eye—James, that’s not nothing."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, wincing when it stung the raw skin. "I’ve had worse. Go back to your tea."

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. You never listened when he tried to brush you off, and it drove him up the damn wall—how you’d barrel through his gruff exterior like it was tissue paper. You set the mug on the floor—carefully because you were always careful—and grabbed his sleeve, tugging with a strength that surprised him for someone so soft. "No, you’re coming with me. I’m not letting you bleed all over your apartment when I can help."

"You?" He arched a brow, the bruised one, and regretted it when it pulled at the swelling. "What’re you gonna do, stitch me up?"

"If I have to." Your tone was firm and stubborn, and he hated how it made his chest tighten. "Come on."

He could’ve pulled away. He could’ve shrugged you off with a flick of his arm—vibranium or flesh. It didn’t matter; you were no match for him. He was a goddamn super soldier, a walking weapon, and you were… what? A civilian with a bleeding heart and a brain too sharp for your good. He’d seen you solve crossword puzzles in two minutes flat and heard you ramble about obscure history facts when he’d lingered too long in the laundry room. You weren’t an Avenger, weren’t SHIELD—just a woman who’d wormed her way into his life with cookies and quiet conversations, and now here you were, dragging him toward your apartment like he was some stray you needed to fix.

And he let you. God help him, he let you.

Your place smelled like you—lavender and vanilla and something faintly sweet, like the cookies you’d left outside his door last week with a note that said, "Don’t be a grump; eat something." The lights were warm and soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents in his sparse apartment. You pushed him toward the couch with a gentle shove, and he dropped the duffel by the door, too tired to argue.

"Sit," you ordered, already darting to the kitchen. "And don’t move."

He sat, legs sprawled, metal arm resting heavily on the cushion. His flesh hand rubbed at the back of his neck, where tension coiled tight. He didn’t belong here—didn’t belong in your orbit, period. You were sunlight, and he was a shadow, all sharp edges and dark corners. The Winter Soldier might’ve been gone, scrubbed clean by Wakanda and time, but the nightmares still clawed at him—flashes of blood screams, faces he couldn’t unsee. He woke up some nights with his vibranium fist clenched so hard it creaked, half-expecting to find a body under him. You didn’t know that. You didn’t know him. And he’d kept it that way, only feeding you scraps—his arm, the war, vague mentions of missions—because the full truth would send you running.

You came back with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a first-aid kit that looked like it’d seen better days. "Tilt your head back," you said, kneeling in front of him.

You were too close. Way too close.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled, reaching for the cloth.

You swatted his hand away—actually swatted it like he wasn’t just pounds of muscle and metal who could snap your wrist without blinking. "Stop it. Let me."

He stared at you, jaw tight, blue eyes narrowing under the bruised lid. You stared back, unflinching, and he saw it—the worry etched into your brow, the way your lips pressed together like you were holding back a lecture. He relented, tipping his head back against the couch because fighting you felt like kicking a puppy.

The cloth was cool against his skin, and your touch—God, your touch—was feather-light, dabbing at the blood on his nose with a care that made his throat close up. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, the way your lashes fluttered as you focused, the little furrow between your brows. You were so gentle it hurt, like a bruise he couldn’t shake off.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, quieter than he meant. "I’m not your problem."

"You’re not a problem at all," you shot back, not missing a beat. "You’re my neighbor. And my friend. And you’re hurt, so I’m helping. Deal with it."

Friend. The word lodged in his chest like a bullet. He didn’t have any friends since Steve—not really. Sam, maybe, on a good day. But you? You’d been chipping away at him for months, ever since he’d moved in—leaving him coffee when you caught him coming back from a run, asking about his arm like it was just another part of him, not a relic of his sins. He’d grumbled, dodged, and kept his distance, but you kept coming back, sunny and relentless, until he couldn’t imagine the hallway without you in it.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, brushing the cloth over the swelling around his eye. Your fingers grazed his cheek, and he tensed, every muscle locking up.

"No," he lied. It didn’t hurt—not the way you meant. No, the pain was deeper, a gnawing thing that came from how soft you were, how close you were, how much he wanted to lean into it and couldn’t.

"You’re a terrible liar!" you said, smiling faintly. “You’re all tense. I’m not gonna break you, you know.”

But I could break you, he thought, and the idea made his stomach twist. His strength wasn’t just in the arm—it was in every fiber of him, honed by decades of violence. He could lift you with one hand and crush your bone without trying. He’d done it before, under Hydra’s leash, and the memory of it—of fragile things shattering under his grip… kept him up at night. You didn’t know that. You saw the arm, sure, but you didn’t know its weight or danger.

You rinsed the cloth, pink water swirling in the bowl, and came back to his eye, your breath fanning over his skin. He could feel the heat of you, the steadiness of your hands, and it undid him—slowly, thread by thread. He wanted to pull away, to growl at you to stop, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because you were looking at him like he was worth something, and he hadn’t felt that in so long, it scared him.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, voice rough, almost accusatory. "I’m fine. I’m always fine."

You paused, cloth hovering over his cheek, and your eyes flicked up to his—big, earnest, piercing. "Because you’re not fine, Bucky. Not always. And even if you were, I’d still care. You don’t have to go through everything alone."

His breath hitched, and he hated it—hated how you saw through the cracks he’d patched up with sarcasm and silence. He shifted, flesh hand curling into a fist on his thigh. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you said, soft but insistent. "I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’m here. You know that, right?"

He didn’t answer. The words were stuck, tangled in the mess of his head. And it seemed as if you knew that because you didn’t push; you just went back to cleaning his face, and the silence stretched thick with everything he wouldn’t say.

When you finished, the blood was gone, the bruising still dark but less angry. You sat back on your heels, studying him like you were checking your work. "There. You look less like you lost a bar fight."

He snorted, a rare sound, and your smile widened—bright, unguarded, like you’d won something. He felt it then, the pull he’d been fighting for months—the way his chest warmed when you looked at him, the way his guard slipped when you laughed. He liked you. More than liked you. And it terrified him.

You stood, gathering the supplies, and he caught your wrist—vibranium fingers light but firm. You froze, eyes darting to his, and he saw the question there, the flicker of surprise.

"You shouldn’t," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brows furrowed. "Shouldn’t what?"

"Like me. Care about me. Whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between you, his metal hand dropping to hide under his jacket. "I’m not… I’m not good for you."

The silence that followed was heavy and thick with unspoken things. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward again, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He could’ve crushed steel with less effort than it took to stay still under that touch.

"James," you said, voice soft but firm, "you don’t get to decide that for me."

He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking. "You don’t know me. Not really."

"Then tell me." Your eyes searched his, open and unafraid. "Tell me who you are, what you think I can’t handle. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the guy who’s sat through my terrible movie marathons, who’s fixed my leaky sink without me asking, who’s looked out for me even when you didn’t have to. That’s who I see."

He wanted to argue, to tell you about the bodies he’d left behind, the decades he’d spent as a puppet for killers. But the words wouldn’t come. You were looking at him like he was worth something, and it was unraveling him stitch by stitch.

"You deserve better," he rasped, barely audible. "Someone whole. Someone who’s not… broken."

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. "James, I don’t want 'better.' I want you. Broken pieces and all."

He stared at you, heart hammering, torn between shoving you away and pulling you closer. Your hand was warm against the cool metal, your gaze unflinching, and he felt the dam break—the walls he’d built crumbling under the weight of you. He wanted to believe it, wanted to let himself have this, but the fear lingered, sharp and insistent.

"You’re too good," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too damn good."

You smiled, small and tentative, and leaned in—just enough that he could feel your breath on his lips. "Maybe you’re just enough."

He didn’t know who moved first—maybe him, maybe you—but suddenly, your lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of tea. It was slow and hesitant, his flesh hand cupping your cheek like you might shatter if he pressed too hard. The kiss was a question, a confession, and when you sighed against him, he answered—deepening it, letting himself feel you, taste you, for the first time.

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d liked. He missed you the second you had pulled back to rest your forehead against him. Your fingers brushed his jaw, and he felt the tension bleed out of him, replaced by something softer, something he hadn’t let himself name until now.

"I’m not going anywhere," you whispered.

And for once, he believed it.

[toruforuu]

(slightly nsfw!)

nerd!jo who goes to the same uni as you and ever since he caught onto you, you’ve been on his mind. leaving him utterly captivated since your first semester, when he saw you on campus

nerd!jo who quickly realises you’re the kind of person who’s known around the facility. you belong to countless of clubs, take parts in multiple projects and you’re always surrounded by your friends. you’re popular. the complete opposite of him as he prefers to keep to himself and stay quiet

nerd!jo who later finds out you’re sharing a class with his best friend geto and who’s instantly met with a wave of mixed feelings. he keeps his little crush on you a secret. even from his best friend

nerd!jo who stumbles upon you talking to geto in the hallway and who’s pulled into the conversation by his friend, offered as a helping hand for your project’s calculations

nerd!jo who does indeed agree to help, however, he doesn’t know how to act so close to you. which paints him out to be pretty nonchalant

nerd!jo who starts to wear a certain colour more often after you compliment his sweater, telling him it makes his eyes stand out

nerd!jo who warms up to you over the time due to him helping you with the project and you popping by to greet him and his best friend, chatting them both up

nerd!jo who is soon falling head over heels for you. without even realising

nerd!jo who’s confused when you join his calculus class next semester, because he remembers you saying it wasn’t something you were keen to. and who’s shocked even further, when you claim the seat next to him

nerd!jo whose blood runs cold, when some other dude walks up to you after your shared calculus class and interrupts you two talking. only to ask you if you wanna get out and grab a coffee. he stood frozen still as his heart roared in his chest, knowing it wouldn’t be right to interfere

nerd!jo who nearly lets out a sigh of relief when you reject the offer. and who’s irritation skyrockets the moment the guy won’t take no as an answer

nerd!jo who steps in automatically without thinking, telling him you and him have a thing going on later in the evening. your eyes narrowed in surprise. truthfully, he surprised himself too

nerd!jo who keeps pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s around you. the nervous gesture not going unnoticed by you

nerd!jo who grows sad, when you begin to tag along with him and geto, assuming it was his best friend you were after as it was usually that way. not him

nerd!jo who’s taken back when you pull out a box filled with baked goods and offer him to try some before a lesson. and he wondered if you had remembered his sweet tooth

nerd!jo who is so painfully oblivious to your shameless attempts at flirting, thinking you’re just being nice

nerd!jo who thinks about jerking off to your instagram picture he’s so fond of, but never ends up doing cause it’s laud. but he thinks about it, way more than he should

nerd!jo who gets flustered and awkward whenever his best friend mentions you or anything concerning you two together

nerd!jo who overhears you talking about your crush to your friends. a crush. his heart breaks

nerd!jo who notices the way your eyes linger on his lips as he speaks about the equation you asked him to explain, nonetheless, he tells himself it’s nothing and he’s probably seeing things

nerd!jo who then proceeds to go completely still when he registers the feeling of your lips on his mid sentence

nerd!jo who blinks to adjust his vision after you pull away few seconds later and then fixes his glasses. only to be the one who crashes his lips onto yours this time

nerd!jo who leaves the library with a raging boner after you spent the entire time desperately making out and being handsy with each other instead of studying

nerd!jo whose heart almost gives out, when you confess you had your sights on him from the beginning as well, but you were too shy to approach since he looked so intimidating

nerd!jo who ends up being your boyfriend by the end of the same day

nerd!jo who can’t help but feel a course of confidence seizing him as he walks through the campus with you, hands interlocked

a/n: couldn’t and can’t stop thinking about nerdjo so thought i would share couple of my ideas;)

credits for dividers: [ @cafekitsune ]