#Like if you never want to mention it what's the point

[thechaoticcherub]

A Problem Pt 2

Part One

Pairing: Dad!Joel x reader Summary: You're each other's problems and that finally becomes clear. Warnings: NSFW 18+, INCEST, DDDNE, age gap, reader is 18, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), orgasms, size kink, daddy kink( iguess?), reader is a terror, not proofread or beta-ed oopps, Joel's POV Notes: here's part two! I hope it lives up to the hype, I liked writing it. I kinda went all over the place with it so idk. it's not tightened up at all and i'm pretty sure I talk about their foreheads pressed together A LOT and the POV jumps around a bit but you know, i'm tired. Enjoy!\

Tagging people who asked for a pt two: @ohmillerbaby @jiminstinypinky @bloodygoree @shivispunk @monicasblues @scened0ll @old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @jakesmysterio @neobangverse @thottiewinemom @thebumbqueen @fallout-girl219 @dilflover-3

Tess had been a necessary distraction for Joel. He needed someone  to take his mind off his problem. This problem wasn’t a typical one. It wasn’t the mortgage needing to be paid, it wasn’t his brother needing to be bailed out of jail, it wasn’t the roofing guys not answering his numerous texts. Those were issues he needed to work out but they weren’t Joel Miller’s biggest  Problem. They weren’t what he needed Tess for. Joel’s biggest problem was also the love of his fucking life. Joel’s problem was a little demon child who lived in his house, occasionally still slept in his bed, and drained his bank account. Joel’s problem was created by him, raised by him. You. 

You were the problem that had plagued him for so long, had buried yourself into his loins and heart and refused to let go. You had always hated when he went on dates when you were younger. You threw fits until he came home. You would hate Tess and yet, you were the reason he needed to keep seeing Tess. To stave off his disgusting problem. The problem that Joel knew snooped through his bedroom when he wasn’t home, that washed his t-shirts for him. You were a Problem with light shining in your eyes and lips that teased him when you ran your tongue along them. 

So really, you were the reason Joel invited Tess over that night when you headed off to a sleepover at your friends house. Unfortunately, you were also the body he envisioned underneath him as he fucked Tess. He was a sick man. He had a beautiful women in his bed and yet his mind always wandered to his pretty little daughter. So when you walked into the room, throwing the door open, he half wondered if it was some kind of debauched fantasy he was having. But then you were shouting and running like the bratty little girl you had always been. 

Tess had made a remark about you knocking and it pissed Joel off, but at the same time, she had a point,  and he felt bad that this would be the first interaction Tess ever had with you.

You flung insults and anger when he followed you down the stairs and that didn’t surprise Joel at all. When Tess made it out the door, you tried your best to hurt him but you had never been tough enough to learn how to throw a punch. 

Joel knew he had to have the awkward conversation with you now, apologizing, mentioning his own needs, and you would stand there looking so…good. Being the subject of all his needs, his desires. You would continue to burn in his guts and the words he spoke would make you uncomfortable because obviously talking about your dad’s sex life was not something you would find appealing. 

Then he caught something, the way your eyes lingered on his undone pants, seemingly taking in the hair he was trying to cover by doing up his jeans. Your little tongue poked out and touched your bottom  lip, your eyes fixated for a moment. Then the things you said, 

“No, Daddy. I’ll never want that from boys in college.” 

“I hate that you were doin’ that with Tess.” 

If Joel didn’t know any better, he’d think- no. That was his imagination—wait, did you say, Tess? When Joel posed the question to you, the words hung in the air for a long time. You went still and your eyes darted from his face to his hands to the floor and back. You were trying to come up with a lie, Joel could see that.  You had lied to him enough times for him to know that. 

*

“I-“ You started, you were searching for a way out of this. A way to explain how you knew or a way to derail your father from his questioning but the only idea that came to mind was crazy. “What?” You asked him, to buy time. 

“How did you know her name is Tess?” he asked again, putting his hands on his hips, stepping back from you. You answered quickly, trying to brush past his question with your own question,

“I don’t know! But…but daddy, I don’t understand what you were doing…” You said, feigning innocence. 

“Oh you don’t know how you knew-wait..what?” Joel asked, confused, “You don’t know what it was we were-honey, c’mon now.” He said, looking down at you. The lines on his forehead creased further as his confusion took over. You stared back with wide eyes, praying he forgot about the Tess question. You were making rash decisions now, but hey, the only way forward was through so you pushed on,

“I-I mean…I do, I think.” You started, taking a step forward towards him. Joel was looking down at you in utter confusion, you sucked on your lower lip and then reached out and took his hand. “That’s…that’s sex, right, Daddy?” You asked and Joel let out a nervous laugh at that. Underneath the fake innocence you tried to smother the intense gleam of mischief, of manipulation. 

“Ye-yeah, honey…I don’t understand. You should know this, kid.” He said, “I mean, I could have been better about havin’ that conversation with you but I kinda thought school took care of that.” You were pulling his hand towards you and it wasn’t like he was resisting but you could feel his trepidation. 

“I just always thought…” You cut yourself off, stealing yourself to finally say it to come face to face with what you wanted and what you were sure would send your father spiraling. “I always thought that was somethin’ we were goin’ to do someday.” You tugged his hand up to your waist like you were going trying to make him hug you. Joel tugged his hand away instinctively,

“What!?” He asked. “No, babygirl…are you…you’re jokin’” He started to laugh and you furrowed your brow in anger. 

“No!” You said, “I’m not joking!” You snapped. “I thought that was something daddy’s did with their daughters! You always said I was your special girl!” You accused, glaring at the man in front of you. You watched something flicker across Joel’s face. Pain and desire. It was there, clear as day now. You and your dad shared a problem. 

“No. Baby, No. Where did you get this idea that…that…” He shook his head. 

“Aren’t I your special girl?” You asked. 

“Yes but…this…” he gestured between the two of you. “This wouldn’t be right. It’s not-“ You  interrupted him by standing up on your tip toes and pressing your lips into his. Joel’s whole body stiffened and he grabbed your shoulders, trying to push you away from him but you reached up, wrapping your arms around your dad’s neck and pulled yourself into him, pressing your body into his. 

You silently prayed this wouldn’t backfire. You hoped to God he wouldn’t shove you away and have you committed for trying to fuck your own father.  He didn’t. He melted. At first the kiss could have almost been something a father and daughter shared when the daughter was a lot younger but it quickly devolved into something so inappropriate it gave you butterflies. Thoughts of Tess vanished and Joel’s hands found your waist. His lips were rough and warm and you cherished your first kiss like it was made of gold and in your mind, it was. 

It was Joel who ripped away first. 

“No. Babygirl, No. This isn’t supposed to happen,” but even has he said it, he was caressing your cheek, stroking your hair back away from your face. 

“Yes it is.” You said before pressing your lips to his again, he kissed you back but then was pulling back once again. 

“This is wrong.” He said but it was his lips that engulfed yours this time. His arm tightened around your waist and he lifted you up so your feet dangled off the floor and he took a few steps into the living room, in front of the couch and let you down again. 

“But I like wrong, Daddy.” You said, staring up at him. “I’ve always  liked wrong.” You explained to him. It was quiet for a moment as he stared down at you, your eyes glinting in the dim light in the living room. Joel knew you were a sneaky little shit. You always had been but it had never occurred to him that it would manifest like this but if you were going to say you liked “wrong” he could give you “wrongness” in spades. 

“I think I like wrong too, babygirl.” He said and then you took his arms and pushed him back onto the couch so he was sitting down. He looked up at you and reached out to take your hands, to pull you close to him but you had other plans. You dropped down onto your knees in front of him, settling yourself between his knees. Before he could say anything you reached up and started to undo the pants he had so recently done back up. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel said, looking down at you on your knees in front of him. You got his pants undone  and your fingers ran through the wirey, course pubic hair there and your eyes traveled up his body to look into his eyes as you smiled. Joel let you tug his jeans down just enough for his cock to spring free, “This…this is so wrong.” Joel said but it didn’t stop him from reaching out and running his fingers through your hair. You giggled, reaching out towards his cock, you had been wanting this for so long you could barely believe it was right there in front of you. As you wrapped your fingers around the base Joel shifted, his brow furrowed, 

“Where the fuck did you learn this darlin’?” He asked, sounding nervous for the answer. You just shrugged and you stuck your tongue out and very slowly and deliberately licked the tip of his cock. 

*

Watching his daughter get on her knees in front of him, and start licking his hard cock made Joel’s brain go haywire. How the fuck did you know just how to do that? You were supposed to be his good little girl who didn’t like boys, didn’t fuck around. Your mouth slid over his cock, little lips enveloping his cock-head and worry filled him. Had you been doing this with boys behind his back? Nights where you claimed to be at a friends house, had those been lies? Joel sat up and very suddenly grabbed your chin, tugging you off his cock with a quiet, wet, pop. He forced you to look up at him and you still looked like the picture of sweet innocence, even with your face flushed, your mouth wet, eyes wide. 

“Where did you learn it? You been with a bunch of boys I don’t know about?”he asked. He felt protective and jealous. You had been playing innocent, saying you thought that it was something the two of you would do together. Joel practically scoffed at the thought now.  “You tell the truth now,” he said, giving you a little shake. You didn’t falter though.  

“Well I watch porn sometimes, daddy. I’m sorry.” You said, your lip trembled slightly. “I’ve never been with a boy…I’ve…” your cheeks reddened, “I’ve just wanted you. Always. Only you.” Joel softened at your words. You weren’t lying. He could tell but God, it had made him nervous. This sickness inside him was making him paranoid…jealous. Something he had never been before. “And…well I wanted to make you like me better than Tess.” You continued and Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at you, still kneeling between his knees. Tess. Her name again. 

Joel looked down at you and without speaking, you both remembered the question from earlier. How do you know her name is Tess? Joel stared at you, his brow furrowing as he held your chin.  He watched as a smirk slid over your face, mischievous, sly and excited. Of course, you had known that Tess was coming over from the second you had left for your friends house for a fake sleepover. Joel nodded  slowly as the realization dawned on you. 

“You’re a brat, babygirl.” He said. Joel let go of your chin and grabbed your hair, pushing you down towards his cock. “You hated the idea of your daddy fucking someone else that bad, huh?” he asked. Your mouth wrapped back around the head of his cock but this time it was Joel’s hand guiding you down, pressing his cock into your mouth. 

*

You gagged as his cock plunged deeper into your mouth, he had seen porn but that didn’t prepare you for a cock being shoved into your throat. You struggled back but Joel held your head, not letting you off entirely. 

“Answer me, babygirl. You hated it so bad you had to ruin it, right?”he asked. You couldn’t speak with his cock in your mouth so you whimpered and nodded. “What was that, darlin? I can’t hear ya,” He mocked and you whined, managing a garbled, 

“Yeeeea,” around his cock. Joel chuckled and his fingers caressed in your hair as you caught your breath, your tongue working over the tip of his cock. You had never imagined you would ever actually get to be here, you had wanted it so bad you hadn’t ever stopped to think it would actually be possible. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and looked down into your eyes, 

“My sweet, destructive little girl.” Joel said softly, he leaned forward, bending to plant a kiss on the top of your head. You glowed with pride and warmth. This felt like everything you had ever wanted from him, this was supposed  to happen, it was meant to be, you and him. You were from him and now he got to take you properly as his own. “You need your good ole’ dad, don’t ya?” he asked into your ear, his fingers still in your hair. You nodded and he pulled back, “Get up here then,” he breathed and patted his knee. You stood up, looking down at him for a second, your heart pounding a million beats per second it felt like. You took in how he looked there, everything you had ever wanted. The man who had not only made you, raised you, taught you everything but had etched what it meant to need into every vein, crevice, line, pore in your body. His stubble was greying around his chin, flecks of gray in his mustache. His shirt was pulled up slightly, showing off his belly and his pants were still undone, cock resting against the soft part of his stomach. His arms were held out, ready to accept you into them, they’d feel just like they always had, holding you but it would be different, better, right now. So right for everything you needed and so, so wrong. 

You put your knee on the couch just outside his knee and then swung your other leg around to the other side, straddling him. The dress you were wearing pulled up and Joel helped it along, gathering it up around your waist before wrapping his arms around you. 

“You’re my good little girl, right?” he asked as you pressed your forehead into his. 

“Mhm,” you answered. 

“So Daddy gets to take your virginity, right?” he asked, confirming what he thought he already knew. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You breathed, his lips were so close to yours and you were tempted to subdue your nerves just by kissing him  but you let the space between you two linger for another moment, savoring the build up. 

“Good,” he said. “I want you to promise me that if I’m goin’ to have you, I’m goin’ to be the only one.” Joel’s hands were under your skirt now, working on tugging your undies down, “Lift your leg up for me baby,” he added, tapping the side of your thigh indicating which leg he was tugging your undies off of. You did what he said as you thought of his other words. He wanted to be your one and only and you would gladly agree but you knew what you had to ask for. Once you undies were dangling off of one leg, Joel’s fingers inched up the inside of your thigh, so close to feeling you for the first time. Heat was radiating off of your pussy and he was so close. Your breath hitched in your chest as he grazed his pointer finger along your lips. 

“Yes, daddy. I wont have anyone else…but you need to promise the same thing. Just me.” You said. Joel’s eyes opened, looking into yours, your foreheads pressed together, your breath mingling. His fingers stroking down your slit, towards your entrance, needing to feel just how tight you were. 

As his finger sunk into you, his eyebrows raised, your mouth fell open in a gasp and he nodded, “Yes, babygirl. I promise. Just you.” He said. Your dad’s finger curled inside of you, stroking a spot you had never been able to reach on your own. You melted into him, your mouth hanging open as he pumped his finger into you. There was nothing like this in the world. Nothing that could possibly compare to the one person you had loved your whole life pumping his finger in and out of you. 

“You like that, dont you?” he cooed to you as you pressed yourself down onto his finger. “Daddy hasn’t even touched your clit yet and you’re soaking my hand.” You could hear the smile in his voice even though your eyes had fluttered shut. 

“I want that, Dad.” You gasped, your clit was already aching with need, with neglect. You felt him maneuver his thumb  up to your clit, finding a rhythm to stroke it in tight circles while his middle finger pressed up into you. You were sure it could possibly get better but you knew his cock would be so much more. “Daddy, daddy…please will you put your cock in me?” You asked. 

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that, peanut.” He said. 

“I don’t care…I want you to take me.” You whined. “I want it Daddy’s cock to stretch me,” You moaned, barely cognizant of what you were saying. 

“It could hurt-“

“I want you to hurt me, daddy! Please.” You practically begged and Joel had never been able to resist that sound. The plaintive pleading of his daughter. How could he? How could he resist sinking his cock into your pussy when it was this tight and you were begging for it. Begging for the pain, the stretch and the relief of finally connecting the way you needed. Joel reached down to his cock, stroking it a few times. He watched as you looked between your bodies, your mouth hanging open as you watched him touch himself. You groaned and lifted your hips, trying to get him to get going.

“I know she needs it, “He breathed as he lined himself up with your cunt, notching the tip right at your entrance. “Take a breath for me, baby, daddy’s going to put him in and it’s goin’ to hurt.” He explained. 

“Yes, Dad! Please.” You whined and accepted his cock inside of you, the stretch of your cunt opening for him was an all encompassing feeling but that was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to feel it in your pussy, in your breasts, stomach, toes. Everything tightened up as he pushed himself deeper. “Oh god!” you moaned. 

“Look at me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on your dad, I got you.” He said as you felt every part of you open up for his cock. You opened your eyes, pressing your forehead into his, taking slow gulps of air. His eyes comforted you and sent sparks of excitement through you, making it tingle, making the pain feel so fucking good. 

“More,” you moaned as his hips started to rock up into you, pumping his cock into you. 

“Good girl,” he said, “You take Daddy’s cock, that’s right.” Joel said. He reached down between your bodies and started that same rhythm of tight circles around your clit. It made your head swim with pleasure. “That’s right,” Joel said, “Dad will take care of you.” He said. 

You felt like it would be impossible to cum from your first time, but you had underestimated the power of your dad’s ministrations to your clit. His attention was so good, your eyes on his was so wrong, and so right, exactly what you had always wanted that you felt yourself building up to an orgasm unlike any other you had ever had. Your heart lept into your throat as you realized how close you were, you cunt tightened around his cock. 

“Oh hold on, pretty girl, you wait for Daddy to cum,” Joel growled, you let out a whine, shaking your head. 

“I can’t, dad! I can’t! I’m so close-“ You moaned, grinding your hips down. His movements around your clit slowed and you felt your clit pulse with need. “Daddy! Please!” Joel’s hips moved faster, sloppier. 

“You can wait, Dad’s goin’ to cum too. I wanna fill you up while you cum, honey.” Joel’s voice was ragged and needy. You whined louder as he pounded into you, bruising your cervix with every thrust while his fingers teased around and around your clitoris, closing you in on your release. 

“Daddy, please! I can’t hold it, I need it,” you whined. With a final thrust of his hips, Joel was coming and his fingers continued to stroke across your clit, pushing you over the edge. You felt the spasms of his cock inside you, filling you with the same seed you came from and your own orgasm split through you, making you shake and moan until you finally collapsed into his chest. “Daddy,” you sobbed. “Daddy, I’m all yours.” You said. 

“I know,” Joel whispered, he reached down and gathered your hair up in his hands, holding it off your neck. “You’ll always be mine.” He said. “My babygirl, my little problem.” He said it and you couldn’t stop the smirk creeping in. You had a problem too. It was your dad and how much you longed for his cock, you didn’t think that problem was ever going to resolve. 

[dontpulloutman]

singer!yn x lewis pullman headcanons

an accompaniment to favorite muse !

like two cosmic entities, you two have been circling each other for years before you properly meet.

gaining fame and your celebrity status before the age of 18 doesn’t change the fact that you are a fangirl at heart. suddenly being invited to afterparties and high-profile events, you took the time to socialize, mingle, and meet the people who you only saw on your screen.

in one of those post-award show parties, you meet eden brolin. you’re both talking about music, how you’re at the height of yours, and how she and her band are in hibernation, when she gestures for someone to join you.

sporting a shy smile, lewis makes his way over to you. your eyes are stuck on his smile, ears tingling with his laughter when eden makes a witty remark you didn’t catch. you’re enchanted, captivated.

this is only the beginning.

songwriting has always been your strongest suit. as you always said, without it, you wouldn’t have it all. for almost a year, your relationship with harry has been on a steady decline. songwriting is how you’ve learned to cope with and understand it.

lewis was the one who helped you heal through it.

back and forth from new york to rhode island; los angeles and oddly enough, a home studio at lew’s montana ranch, your album was crafted. in this, you poured out your feelings and thoughts regarding your relationship with harry.

(if, in a few years, fans realize your entire album photoshoot took place in lewis’s montana ranch, what harm would it do? you can’t blame eagle eyed fans from connecting his recent 2024-2025 interview backgrounds to your album photobook)

after such a publicized relationship, you knew you had to take some time for yourself. never mind the fact that the internet always had something new to say about your breakup, how you’ve basically gone non-existent while harry has been spotted walking around with a new girl every other month.

in those months of hiding, you find your friendship with lewis developing into something more.

knowing looks, longing stares, and the feel of a warm hand against the small of your back. everywhere you went; out with friends, intimate gatherings with industry peers - he became your immediate and automatic plus one. it’s understandable; he’s your best friend.

one night, while sequestered in your new york apartment, deep into your second glass of wine, your eyes meet lew’s from across the sofa. there’s soft jazz playing from the record player, and you can’t stop your eyes from tracing the stubble he’s growing. you want to feel it against your fingertips.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you have a secret you need to tell.”

you bend down, putting your wineglass on the carpeted floor. slowly, eyes never leaving his, you get on your hands and knees, and crawl across the sofa to where he’s seated. back against the corner of the L-shape couch, his hands immediately move to your hips.

“Do I?” there’s a shit-eating grin on your face

you’re not sure who leaned in first, the world is totally blocked out. nothing to feel, nothing to think, nothing to see, except the press of his lips, earthquakes in your core, and fireworks behind your eyes.

like they say, the rest is history.

your relationship settles like puzzle pieces that have always been meant to be. “It makes total sense,” is the general consensus you hear from friends. even lew’s parents have mentioned how they’ve been expecting it.

2018

lewis joins the ensemble cast for Bad Times at the El Royale; it’s been two years since things ended with harry, and 4 months since this new, beautiful, yet still fragile relationship with lew started. you celebrate his new role by cooking dinner together, and watching your favorite films on the couch.

you also begin to write and produce songs for other artists

2022

top gun: maverick and press play.

at this point, you haven’t released any of your own songs. sure, your fans know that you’re making music, and you’ve joined in on a few collaborations with other artists, but people have been dying to hear from you.

it’s not something you’re worrying over. supporting lewis’s career, simply being there when Big Heart Manners and Crab Park were made and recorded; it’s easy to fall into domestic bliss with the love of your life

2023

and still, he never stops encouraging you to release your own songs again. with festering and long-awaited inspiration, you start to work on muses & anecdotes. a 13-part love letter dedicated to the man you know you couldn’t live without.

2024

after an accidental post on instagram, you both decided it was time to let the world know. releasing muses & anecdotes, and the accompanying “hard launch” posted on instagram, you felt a newfound freedom. almost like the weight of the past few years have been lifted, a declaration of starting anew. the whole world learning of your love with lewis was like a new page being turned.

your story has barely begun.

[zynp-krdg]

Someone else already corrected that Ibn al-Haytham didn't invent camera obscura but he was the first to understand the principle behind it and explain it. They even shared a link. He IS known as the father of modern optics. Sorry I made that one mistake and it was too late to edit when I noticed it. I mentioned it in the comment I made, you could find the person who corrected me from that comment and reach the link. And about Al-Khwarizmi, he did demonstrate completing the square to solve quadratic equations. Even the wikipedia page for "completing the square" specifically points him out.

I did my best to try and summarize these as best as I could and picked figures I thought would be the most interesting to read for people. I had to skip some scholars that I wanted to talk about and many things the scholars I mentioned did, to keep it simple and short.

And yeah, every civilization has its start, its peak, and its end. The Golden Age of Islam is no exception to that. There were great Muslim scholars who came after the Golden Age too (in the Ottoman Empire and other places), but not as many, because a place like Baghdad never came after that. It was one of the most populous cities, and when the Mongol Empire invaded, they slaughtered more than a million people. Libraries were burned, they tortured scholars to death. They demolished the dams on the Tigris and the Euphrates that the Abbasids had built up over a period of five centuries, depressing agriculture and slowing population and economic recovery for many centuries. Like obviously they couldn't just recover and keep doing maths. I think the loss of those libraries and that knowledge is one of the saddest losses in history.

There was also Al-Andalus alongside Baghdad, another incredible (almost unrivaled, Al-Andalus is genuinely fascinating) civilization. (711-1492) And when you consider how Europe built its riches by exploiting and occupying other countries, you gain another perspective on how it might've been more luxurious and comfortable for them without having to work as hard, in the simplest words.

And yes, Muslim polymaths were inspired by not only India but also Greece, Persia, Egypt, they translated many of their works too. Muslim scholars properly credited their predecessors and built upon what was already discovered, unlike Europe, which advanced thanks to the knowledge they got from Muslim scholars, yet a big majority of people don't know now. Some people in a subreddit might know these things but in general education/academia, they are not talked about. Many people genuinely don't know and they can't know if no one teaches them, and this is a good opportunity to do so.

Thanks for the additional information, this was fun. I quite like this post because of the information everyone has been sharing.

was talking to my mom about how white people ignore the contributions of poc to academia and I found myself saying the words "I bet those idiots think Louis Pasteur was the first to discover germ theory"

which admittedly sounded pretentious as fuck but I'm just so angry that so few people know about the academic advancements during the golden age of Islam.

Islamic doctors were washing their hands and equipment when Europeans were still shoving dirty ass hands into bullet wounds. ancient Indians were describing tiny organisms worsening illness that could travel from person to person before Greece and Rome even started theorizing that some illnesses could be transmitted

also, not related to germ theory, but during the golden age of Islam, they developed an early version of surgery on the cornea. as in the fucking eye. and they were successful

and what have white people contributed exactly?

please go research the golden age of Islamic academia. so many of us wouldn't be alive today if not for their discoveries

people ask sometimes how I can be proud to be Muslim. this is just one of many reasons

some sources to get you started:

but keep in mind, it wasn't just science and medicine! we contributed to literature and philosophy and mathematics and political theory and more!

maybe show us some damn respect

[starwarskawaii]

Can you write a fanfic of Bob with an experiment girlfriend who can turn invisible? She's so used to being ignored and alone that when she was experimented on, that's how her powers manifested? Just some fluff where she's having a bad day mentally (feels like no one wants her around) and so she's invisible all day and he just cuddles with her and eventually she's visible again. Just over all comfort and fluff🥰

OH HECK YES! This is right in my wheelhouse! I've honestly never done a reader with powers, so this will be fun!

Edit: Hey, if you like this, my requests are open for Bob fics! I only do fem reader tho, btw. Sorry lol

Cw: THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!! Heavy mental health themes, comfort after angst, Bob being adorable, human experimentation mentioned, brief allusions child neglect, brief allusions to trafficking

You were having the worst day. It seemed like your entire team was unaware of your existence. It wasn't a new feeling, of course. That's how you had manifested the ability to turn invisible in the first place. Your parents had ignored you. Forgotten you. That's how you were so easily captured and experimented on by whatever ghoulish HYDRA branch had done this to you. Now, in the place where you should feel least alone, you felt like you were as invisible as your powers could make you, without even using them. At this point, you had turned invisible unintentionally from feeling so ignored and unwanted.

There was only one person who made you feel seen. Bob. Bob understood you. He had been through hell in his life. Not unlike what you had been through to cope with what was done to you. That same, sweet, struggling man held you now as you did your best to hold back tears.

The truth was, your teammates were just busy. And anti-social freaks. But, mostly, busy. But Bob wasn't. Bob was mostly in the tower because the team loved him and needed to keep an eye on him, lest his mental health decline and his powers wreak havoc on Manhattan again. Bob would have been there for you even if he had been busy, though.

Bob adored you. It was so natural, from the moment you met. Val told the team your backstory, and Bob sat there in quiet admiration as you struggled to stay visible due to embarrassment. He could tell you would fit right in. And he had a strong feeling that you two would click.

Bob was right. You two had fallen in love so naturally it was hard to believe there was ever a time you two hadn't known each other. You were there for each other on your good days and your bad days. You both had a lot of bad days, but you had the love and patience for each other to make it through them together.

Bob held you tightly, whispering sweet reassurances in your ear, gently playing with your hair. He didn't need to see you to know where to hold you. He had you perfectly memorized.

As he held you, your anxieties lessened. You felt lighter in his arms. It was as if he could go inside your head and melt your fears away. Even if everyone else actually didn't want you around, you knew Bob did. He calmed you.

"There's my beautiful girl" Bob said as he smiled down at you "It's good to see your pretty face again, baby. Feeling better?"

"Only because I have you, baby. Only because I have you."

[aceecee]

Insatiable - Chapter Ten

TW: blood mentions

WC: 3.3K

Masterlist

Xavier was the fifth one to meet you.

He was the first to be surprised by you.

You’re supposed to be salvation, not his ruin. Be careful of what you do next, you’ve been warned. 

There’s something in the corner of the room.

It’s always around.

He’s not sure when it had become a comfort.

Most days it’s stagnant, not moving an inch from the position it had assigned itself. 

But then comes the moments where he cries and cries and cries.

What else can a weak child do?

Too weak to protect the one he loves, too weak to save her every time she’s carried in the arms of scientists, wailing out his name in hopes he’ll save her.

A hope he wishes will die out for it will never come true. He’ll never be her hero.

It moves when the first tear drops down his face. Its steps are always slow - cautious. 

Arms encircle his frame, his head pushed into a chest, held in a soothing grip.

It disappears with the last tear, back the next day in the corner of the room.

Years pass and he brushes it off as a result of a traumatised mind.

Until his fingers twitch uncontrollably around his new neighbour. Who he claims to hate yet burns with the need to touch.

To feel the sensation of those familiar arms wrap around him again.

“Don’t laugh!” the girl pouts at you.

You try to hold it in but it’s impossible. Her scowl deepens and you didn’t think it was possible for her to get even more red. Eiden’s stronger than you, he’s holding it in and looks not at all affected but you take notice of the way he’s clenching his hand and the smile he’s trying to bite down. Caleb is standing by her side, just as red and looking away. He’s sort of to blame for this, just a little.

But you would never tell him that.

You and Eiden had been waiting by your front door for the two of them, so you could commence your daily routine to walk to school when the other two joined. The reason for your laughter is the mess atop Mara’s head. “Gran is out,” she had tried to explain, “Caleb thought he could do my hair.”

Your laughter dies down when you see tears in her eyes, now you feel bad. “Oh, Mara, I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad,” you rush at the girl, dropping your school bag on the floor so you could comfort her. Eiden picks it up for you.

The feeling inside you when she pushes your arms away is indescribable. It’s the first time she’s ever denied your attention and you don’t know how to feel. Your fingers twitch at your side as your insecurities run wild.

You’d fucked up and now she doesn’t want you anymore, your voice screams in your head. How many times until you learn that you’re a failure meant to be discarded?

You take a step back and quickly throw on a mask, unbeknownst to you, your brother notices the blank face you had tried to cover up. His lips straighten but he doesn’t say a word. He quietly watches the flash of anger in your eyes when Caleb comforts Mara instead. 

You take a deep breath and try again. “I am sorry, Mara. I didn’t realise you were serious,” you gesture to your house. “Let me fix your hair.”

That has her attention on you again. “But…we’ll be late to school then,” she whispers. “Then we’re late,” you shrug. It would be a first for the four of you so you’re confident they’ll let you off easily. 

You feel a sense of relief when the tears in her eyes are gone, replaced by a bright grin. She turns to Caleb, “You go on then, I’ll see you later.” Caleb tries to disagree but his words fall on deaf ears, you step in for him instead.

“Let him stay, I’ll teach him some styles so this,” you point at her hair, “doesn’t happen again.”

The aforementioned boy just watches you silently in that regular way that makes you uncomfortable. You don’t know what his deal is but every time his eyes fall on you, it’s like he’s dissecting you, almost analysing you in a way that makes you afraid he’ll see the real you. More often than not you keep your guard up around him, just in case.

It takes you almost thirty minutes just to untangle her hair from the mess on her head, it’s not made easy by the fact that she has curly hair. The same hair that had been on Gia-

You offer her tips on how to take care of her hair. Another thirty minutes is spent on showing a variety of hairstyles she can do, Caleb who had taken his seat on your bed inched forward every hairstyle until he was practically falling off the bed just so he can memorise it all. You nearly laugh at the focused look he adorns, moments like these remind you that he’s just a child trying his best for the girl he cares about. 

“You shouldn’t feel bad,” you whisper to him, hoping no one else hears. He looks at you confused but you just send him a smile and go back to the task on hand.

Caleb isn’t sure why he feels his face heating up. 

You decide it’s best to not let a single soul know what destiny befallen on Finn. Maybe it would’ve been a good idea to let someone know that an entity of sorts lives inside you and can control you. But you have yet to wrap your mind around the thought itself. It’s too much.

Has this been the result of whatever was done to you?

You try to talk to it inside your head but it’s been two days now and still no response. You tell yourself that perhaps you’ve just remembered the situation wrong and if it responds, you’ll change your thinking. But for now, it’s all thrown to the back of your mind.

You’re back in the N109 zone. No other missions await you. You receive no congratulations from anyone either. 

Good.

Mary had texted you that the renovations had been completed. You let her know that you’ll be by today to see them. And see the kids. You missed them.

Is it wrong to use the comfort that little kids provide by being dumb and cute? Probably but you’re in desperate need for them to ask you stupid questions while clinging to you with sticky hands. 

You stop by the base, changing into a simple hoodie and sweatpants. You’ve learnt that no matter what you wear, you will be leaving with it in stains. It’s something you’ve long accepted.

“Going somewhere?”

Sylus’s voice doesn’t shock you. You had heard him moving around, slowly towards you. 

[“Orphanage.”] 

“Let’s go then,” the man waves his keys at you, walking by while leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. You stare at his back, it would be just like him to invite himself into your plans as he pleases. 

And yet you continue to let him.

You’re jumped on the second you enter, bright smiles all around. Sylus watches on the sidelines, amused.

He watches the warm look in your eye, the gentle way in which you handle the kids, the way you try to communicate without your words. Something ignites in him, seeing you like this. It’s a new side of you he’s never seen. So patient and understanding. 

You’d make a good mother.

You feel a shiver up your spine, looking at the direction of the white-haired man. The look in his eyes makes you pause.

You’re in danger. 

“You wake her up,” whispers Kieran to Luke.

“No, you do it!” whispers Luke back.

“You’re older!”

“Says who?”

“Wake who up?”

The two masked men jump and scream at the sudden voice behind them. “Boss-man, shhhh,” Luke puts a finger to his mouth, “you’ll wake her up.”

Sylus glares at them, almost offended. “I’m whispering. You’re the ones shrieking.” 

The twins glance at each other and he sighs, it’s never good when they mentally communicate with the other. “Out with it.” 

He’s starting to think he should have just turned around and left when he saw them standing outside their own bedroom. He should know better than to be involved in anything they do. He should have stayed curious because explain to him why he’s being pushed into the bedroom, being used as a shield while the twins hide behind him.

“Look,” points Kieran at his side of the room, right at his bed. 

Now in too deep, Sylus has no choice but to go investigate. He immediately notices the lump on his sheets but stops as he gets closer. He can’t stop the look of shock (and jealousy) on his face.

Why the hell are you sleeping on their bed?

He looks back at the two nuisances who just usher with their hands for him to get closer. They’re not going to be any help.

He moves towards you, lips quirked up as he takes you in. You’re normally a composed person, the only time he can recall seeing you otherwise when he first met you. You had made sure since then to never appear a “mess” again. Sylus never said a word, he understood better than most your need to never show weakness. 

But not even you can control how you look when asleep. Your hair is a mess, covering your face. He had watched you enough on those cameras to know that there’s drool either on your face or on the pillows. You’re sleeping at such an odd angle, he’s sure your body is going to ache when you wake up. 

How cute.

He walks closer and gently nudges you on the shoulder. It’s barely a pat but it’s all you need. His little bird blinks slowly at him before glaring at the man who woke her up. Jealousy settles deep inside him, no one else deserves to see you like this. Only him.

Sylus moves himself so his body hides you from the two other pairs of eyes in the room, he sits down on the bed. “I hope you’re aware that you’re sleeping on Kieran’s bed?” 

You just nod and fall asleep. 

He’s left staring at your body, envious that you felt comfortable sleeping in the twins room and not his.

This won’t do.

He’s quick to scoop you up in his arms, the twins watch with no words as he leaves their room and walks right into his. They have the sense to not ask questions. Sylus places you gently on his bed and watches with satisfaction as you settle in. 

A groan stays stuck in your throat as you feel sleep leave despite your wishes. After so many years of insomnia, waking up after a good night’s sleep is even more torture than what you had gone through. Furthermore, there’s a comforting smell soaked into the pillowcases and bed sheets around you. The scent doesn’t belong to the twins, you know exactly who it does belong to. 

You had slept each night you had been with Zayne. After experiencing being so well-rested in years, you’d rather die than go back to your original state. So, you had come up with a theory that the smell of a person you trusted might help. And it did. 

You slowly open your eyes, taking in the room. It’s the first time you've been in here. Everything in it screams Sylus, the man has excellent taste. You look around for said man until your ears pick up the shower running. The perfect time to snoop. 

Ten minutes later, you’ve been nearly through the entire room with nothing to show for it. Sylus has nothing interesting in his room, you pick up the water turning off and rush back into the bed just as the bathroom door opens. 

Your eyes don’t leave his body, all he has is a towel around his waist. You shamelessly watch the water run down his body. Your fingers twitch as you see his muscles, you’ve always been one to appreciate fine art. 

Sylus smirks as he notices your eyes on him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

[“No. You’re boring.”] 

He lets out a laugh at your statement, moving closer to you. “Or…I’m smart enough to not keep secrets in my room.”

[‘So, you do have secrets?”] your eyebrows raise.

“Want me to tell you one?”

[“Yes.”]

“Then say my name.”

The request gives you pause. You tilt your head in confusion. 

“You said that doctor’s name,” his voice is deeper when he lets out ‘doctor’. “Say my name,” it comes almost as a plea, he gives you a look that almost seems like desperation. You can’t tell if it’s like him or unlike him. 

You clear your throat. He perks up, it reminds you of a puppy waiting for a treat.

“Sylus,” it comes out much better than when you had said ‘Zayne’, no stutter too.

Before you can move, you’re thrown back on the bed, a heavy figure looming above you.

“Again,” his eyes don’t leave yours. You think you might have just done something that has changed the trajectory of your relationship.

You swallow.

“Sylus.” 

You say it so quietly that if you hadn’t spoken the words you don’t think it could even be heard. But, it seems to be enough for him. His head moves dangerously close to yours. Lips almost touching. He doesn’t move further than that. With the way he’s looking at you, you know the next move is yours.

You don’t hesitate. 

Your lips move desperately together. He’s devouring you in a way that you’re sure he’ll never be satisfied and will take. Again and again. Never stopping.

You break apart but he’s determined to take even your breath as he moves down to your neck, leaving soft kisses and as many marks as possible in his way. 

A hand gently grabs her wrist.

“No more,” Xavier softly commands. He takes the hunter watch off her wrist and pockets it. “You need rest.”

She doesn’t even have it in her to fight. The exhaustion has won. Neither of them say a word as he leads her into her apartment. They settle down on her couch. 

She fidgets with the ugly beaded bracelet on her wrist. In times of emotional crisis, it had become a clutch for her. The orange colour on one of the beads had become so faded in these last few months. 

“What does it mean to you?” his soft voice snaps her out of it. She looks in his direction to see him eyeing the bracelet. She finds herself wanting to answer. It’s shocking how close they’ve become in such a short time. Mara has no idea when Xavier stopped being a co-worker and became a friend. 

“My angel gave it to me.”

His eyebrows furrow a little in confusion. She understands, she’s never muttered the words ‘my angel’ out loud since you disappeared. It feels refreshing. It feels right.

She answers his question before he can even ask it. 

“She left me too.”

The watch on his arm beeps.

He’s not working today but a metaflux has been detected nearby and if he’s received the message then it’s just him alone. He’s informed that backup is twenty minutes away. A message that would give most hunters pause but he’s been alone for a long time, he can rely on himself. He knows he’s capable. 

The wanderers that appear before him are weak but strong in their numbers. One manages to slash him across his back. He grunts in pain but pushes through. His evol works with him to incinerate as many as it can. The fatigue settles in quicker now that he has activated it. How much sleep will he need after this? He’s too caught up in fighting to notice the wanderer that sneaks up on him, it’s too late for him to even teleport when he does. He waits for a pain that never comes up.

It’s then he notices the vines surrounding the wanderer’s body, holding it tightly in their grip. Before his eyes, the wanderer is ripped apart. Every other wanderer he can notice is in a similar predicament.

He’s not alone anymore. There’s a woman standing a few metres before him. She’s far enough that he can’t notice any distinct features. He makes his move.

From a distance, it looks like the sword he throws is meant for her but the woman doesn’t even flinch as it embeds itself into the wanderer behind her. With a loud thud, it falls before disappearing. Numerous protocores flop on the ground around them but neither party cares, too focused on the other.

The green shield around her disappears when he’s confirmed that there’s no longer a threat. The woman gives him a nod and turns to leave. Only for him to move much closer to her.

He doesn’t say anything, just taking her in. His heart beats fast as he looks her over, her hair, complexion, her clothes. He memorises everything. 

His throat suddenly feels dry as he notices the deep scar around her neck. That sense of peace and comfort he had given up crashes into him.

It can’t be…

After what feels like forever, he opens his mouth to speak. “Who are you?”

Why do you look like it? 

How do you exist?

He doesn’t ask those questions, too scared of the answers he might receive. 

The woman taps her mouth and then crosses her arm in an ‘x’ in an attempt to get her message across. It works. 

“You…” he takes a step forward, confused until realising. “You can’t speak?” 

The woman nods in confirmation.

The both of them stare at the other in awkward silence before the woman throws up a goodbye wave and runs away.

Xavier is too baffled by the situation to remember he can teleport. 

Throughout all his life, he finds himself before the statue.

As a kid when being a royal would get too much, after a gruelling training session and recently when he learnt the truth of his world…of his family.

The statue isn’t much to look at. One of the many in his family’s vast collection. Tucked away in the corner of a store room. He had stumbled upon it as a child, when he had tried to run away from his future as a King. 

It was covered in a white sheet but it called to him. With bated breath he had removed the sheet, eyes wide at what he saw.

It resembles a woman. One unlike any he’s come across. She’s beautiful.

No…

It’s too little a word to describe her. She’s a type of beauty that can’t be described for it would only limit her. 

He tried to ask around for any knowledge on who sculpted her, in hopes that maybe she exists and he could find her?

But no one knows anything.

“That statue? I don’t really know, your highness. It just appeared one day.”

“I’ve never seen a statue like that.”

“I have no idea, your highness.”

Even his father is no help. Neither are any texts they have. The mystery of the statue keeps him intrigued. It becomes a sort of comfort over time. He finds himself before her whenever life gets to him, ranting about it all. Anyone else would think him crazy but sometimes it feels like it’s listening.

Above all, one thing about the statue always stood out. The only crack on such old stone.

It was across her neck.

AN: I have to keep reader's interactions with Xavier and Rafayel short cause we need MC for more. Sylus has a breeding kink and you can't tell me otherwise, actually they all do. What nasty freaks.

Sorry for the late chapter, not only do I have three assignments due, I'm also sick!

Tag List: @serenity-loves-red @crimsonmarabou @reni502 @r0ckb1n @queenkymmie @plzdonutpercieveme @perqbeth @mephisto-with-a-knife @tumblingdevils @angelwhizpers @eolivy @yuurisfavblog @miuangel

[lightsoutmatthews]

please an auston matthews with the “because i know you” prompt!

"Because I know you." - Auston Matthews

summary: a collection of things he does just shows how well Auston knows you.

pairing: Auston Matthews x female!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none, just fluff

authors note:

since the request didn’t specify if you wanted angst or fluff I decided to make it sugary sweet :)

-----------------------------

It started with a cup of coffee being delivered to your office on a random Tuesday afternoon right at the second you were thinking about getting one for yourself from the coffee station down the hall.

You didn’t particularly like the coffee from there, it was cheap and the machine somehow managed to make it worse by brewing it, but it would have held you over for the rest of the day while you continued to read through emails and write responses like your life depended on it.

The cup from your favorite café in downtown Toronto was handed to you by one of your co-workers who raised her eyebrows at you. “I didn’t order that,” you told her outright, but she handed you the cup regardless. “The delivery guy said it´s for you,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

There was no message on the cup, but you could guess from who it was. There was only one person who could know exactly when you could use a little pick me up at work.

He was smart by not putting a message on it. Your relationship not something really known to the public even though you had been together for over a year at this point.

You weren’t making a big deal about dating one of Torontos biggest athletes, especially around the office where his team was a topic of conversation on the daily. Not even your closest work friends knew who exactly you were dating. And it was good that way.

I Thanks for the coffee, exactly what I needed x

----------------------

The week after that lunch from your favorite restaurant was delivered in the same manner as the coffee was. No name on the order but yours, making your co-workers once again wonder if you were lying to them about not ordering it for yourself or if you actually didn’t.

You were knee deep into the finishing touches for one of the biggest projects of the quarter and barely had time to go and grab lunch from the cafeteria, much less to make the trip to any restaurant more than five minutes away from the building.

The delivery was godsend and like he knew, he sent enough so you had something to keep for the evening, since it was almost sure that you had to stay longer than usual and would only arrive home late, way after dinner time.

You hummed contently when you took the first bite, almost letting out a moan at how good the food felt after hours of working without taking a break.

He once again knew exactly what you needed at the right time, like he was a psychic that could read your mind all the way from his road trip across the country.

I thanks for lunch and dinner, exactly what I needed. Can´t wait to see you tomorrow. x

----------------------

The third time it happened was a week later when you finished the big presentation, and everyone gathered for a small party to celebrate the success, and that the client was happy with everything you had come up with in the weeks of hard work.

You were a little bummed because most people invited their significant others to the bar you were gathered at, unfortunately you couldn’t. Firstly, because your boyfriend wasn’t even in the country and secondly because still, no one knew who he even was.

A few of your co-workers asked about him but you kept telling them that he was away for work. Sometimes you wondered if they even believed you that he existed because you never mentioned him by name or brought him to any work functions that warranted bringing a plus one.

When a delivery person entered the bar, shouting your name for everyone to hear, you froze. “Sign here,” the guy rushed out, putting the tablet in front of your face quicker than you could react to anything.

You scribbled your signature before he handed you a box, a beautiful bouquet of flowers peeking through a hole at the top.

When you opened it, a bouquet waited for you, alongside a card.

One of your co-workers snatched it directly from the box before you could react. “Hey,” you laughed. “Congratulations on finishing your big project, sorry I can´t be there to celebrate. A.” she read.

You blushed at the message, he once again knew exactly what you needed from him in order to feel better about him not being there with you.

“Woah, we know mystery man is in fact real, and his first name starts with an A? We´ve been waiting for this confirmation for months!” you shook your head laughing. “That´s some expensive flowers, he´s got money.” Someone else chimed in.

“Give me that,” you laughed, snatching the card back before they could ask about it even more.

“One day you will introduce us to him,” someone chuckled. “Who knows, maybe you already know him,” you teased which only raised more eyebrows.

I The flowers are beautiful, thank you so much. x

--------------------------------

When you arrived at Auston´s place that night you were exhausted. The months leading up to this day catching up with you, swallowing all the energy you had left in your body, almost making you too tired to get out of the car and walk up to his door.

When you finally mustered up enough strength to make your way, he was already waiting in the frame. An easy smile on his lips, Felix next to him, excitedly wiggling his tail at your arrival.

“Hey snuff,” you greeted the dog, quickly patting his head before standing up straight again to greet your boyfriend, the flowers firm in one hand.

“Hey,” you greeted the tall man, a shy smile on your lips. “Hey,” he chuckled, opening his arms so you could slip right into his comfortable embrace.

Tension left your body as soon as he wrapped his arms around you. The familiarity of his arms taking every ounce of stress away for the moment.

“Long day?” Auston whispered in your hair. “Long month,” you replied chuckling. “Come on, I ordered some food and when were done I can set you up a bath before we go to bed.” You let out a loud sigh. Exactly what you needed.

---------------------

After eating on the couch, chatting about your days in hushed voices between laughter and shared bites, he made his way to the upstairs bathroom to set up a bath while you cleaned up the plates and made sure Felix got another snack before heading upstairs to join him.

The bathroom was lit up with a few candles he pulled from God knows where and it was smelling like your favorite bath salt. The one that you usually kept for special occasions because it was expensive.

“Since when do you have my favorite bathing salt in your bathroom?” He just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

Raising you eyebrows at him you decided to let it go without questioning it any further and to just enjoy that he was paying enough attention to actually know what to buy.

While you were enjoying the warmth of the water relaxing your muscles and taking your mind off things Auston rumbled around downstairs doing something you didn’t care enough about to question. Every now and then you heard clinking, but it wasn’t worrying enough to go and check out.

A few minutes later he came back and handed you a glass of wine. “How did you know?” you questioned with another raised eyebrow, but he once again just shrugged and smiled before leaving you alone to soak and relax for as long as you wanted.

When the water started to get cold you got out. On the toilet laid a navy-colored hoodie. The exact one he was wearing earlier when you were sitting on the couch.

He knew one of you favorite things to do after a long day was to wear his hoodies, especially when there were worn and smelled like him.

You slipped the soft fabric over your head and inhaled deeply before putting your stuff away and making your way back to the living room after a quick detour to the bedroom to grab your phone and drop off your bag that you discharged in the hallway on your way.

Auston was snuggled up with Felix on the couch, your favorite movie already cued up, a warm blanket draped over him, the other half waiting for you to cuddle under and relax for the rest of the evening.

“You´re spoiling me today,” you mumbled after cozying up under the blanket, one arm placed on his chest, while your head rested on his shoulder.

“You deserve some relaxation after the month you had. I know how hard you worked.” A soft kiss to the crown of your head followed before the room was filled by only the sound of the movie and your soft breathing.

When you opened your eyes the next time the credits were rolling and Auston was playing on his phone. “Good morning,” he chuckled lightly before putting the device away.

“Hey,” you mumbled quietly. “Slept well?” he asked, an amused smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, but I need to go to bed, otherwise I won´t make it up,”

A soft laugh left his mouth. “Come on,” he said, getting up and holding out a hand for you to grab. When you stood at your full height he bent down and swept you off your feed, carrying your bridal style up the stairs.

“I can walk on my own, you know?”

Careful to not drop you he laughed. “I know, but sometimes you deserve to be carried.”

You shook your head but laughed at his remark.

When you were nestled in bed together, his arm lazily slung around your waist, your hand softly drawing the patterns of his tattooed arm you sighed. “What´s up?” he whispered.

“This evening was all I needed, from getting the flowers all the way to now,” you sensed that he felt a but coming. “no but, I promise, just a question,”

He nodded his head in a motion for you to go on. “How do you always know exactly what I need? Not that I´m complaining but it is a little scary that you sent me coffee the exact moment I was craving some, or sent me lunch on a day where I did not have time to get some myself?”

A quiet laugh left his mouth. “Easy question. It’s because I know you.”

“Thank you, for knowing me and for taking care of me.” You mumbled, already half asleep again. “That´s what I´m here for,” he laughed, which was the last thing you heard before you drifted off into sleep again.

[jackalopc]

i think batman beyond does a version of this really well; where it kind of grapples the two halves of bruce being anti-murder but also in a position where he might need to.

it's not quite the same as the 'the writers clearly want him to kill someone but can't' as mentioned above, so this is mostly me just rambling because it reminded me of the pilot of batman beyond. feel free to ignore lmao

(spoilers for the batman beyond pilot)

in the pilot episode we see an older [dcau] bruce wayne, middle aged, still doing his batman thing. he is saving a woman who was kidnapped and being held hostage by some men. things are going fine as he fights off the men; but then he suffers a mild heart attack. bruce is disabled, unable to fully move as this heart attack happens.

one of the men approaches while batman crumbles to the ground, a giant metal pipe in hand, ready to straight up beat batman with this pipe -- and whether intending to or not -- he might just kill him due to the circumstances. this is blatantly clear. you are fully in understanding that bruce wayne -- the fucking batman -- might finally meet his end right then and there.

but, there is a gun nearby, from one of the thugs that he kicked away. and he does the only thing he can in self defense in that moment: he grabs the gun, and aims it at the man.

the man is, understandably freaked, he has a gun pointed at him. but thats not what freaks him out. what freaks him out, what terrifies him, is the superhero who is notoriously anti-killing and anti-gun... is now pointing one at him. the batman is ready and willing to shoot him. understandably, he runs.

batman, now safe, drops the gun and he is horrified at what he's just done. he didn't even shoot the gun, just grabbed and pointed it. but he was ready to use it, in self defense. and it terrifies him to his very core. between the heart attack of his aging body and the fact he resorted to even potentially using lethal force, shakes bruce to his core.

he takes off his cowl even, no one around now, and slowly walks away. bruce wayne ends up retiring that very night and hanging up the cowl forever after that. to the point where batman wouldn't reappear for another twenty years.

this, to me, is the most realistic portrayal for bruce when it comes to killing. it's not that bruce can't kill or is unable or anything like that, he chooses not to. but even he is still just a human, and in fear, he might just be willing to resort to it. but to me, most of the time, the fear of falling to that level-- the fear of resorting to lethal force (especially with a gun no less)-- is greater. so it (typically) outweighs everything else.

realistically, if he were a real person and not a fictional character, are there times where batman wonders if just killing the joker might be the better option? sure. he's human. it reminds me, a little, of a quote from c.s. lewis: "courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point".

the testing point is, for bruce, deciding each time to not do that. to not resort to that level of violence that you simply cannot take back. sure, he could kill the joker, but he would be horrified at himself, and be unrecognizable to even himself. and he could also never take it back, could never undo it.

I think Bruce's anti-murder philosophy would translate better if it wasn't portrayed by writers who obviously want him to kill someone lol

[thewritingfairy]

It kinda ironic that now Bruce wants to be a dad to us the moment we are done with them as a whole, and he's now just realizing about our medical history, haven't you stopped to think oh maybe I should see how my kid is doing physically and mentally,or oh maybe I should take them to the doctor to make sure they are healthy (because where I come from it is a requirement to have a yearly checkup until you turn 18) but no he just stayed as oblivious as ever never stopping to think, oh is my first born doing alright? Are they doing okay?

But no he's just as petty and oblivious as the rest an that's the nail in the coffin for me because Sir?! How dare you now try to be a father to (name) when you were never one before to begin with! At this point I hope w get a father figure to rub ur in Bruce's face how shitty he is. Sorry for the long rant! I'm just very done with Bruce's shit! Thats how much I love you're writing!

story mentioned: જ⁀➴Nobody's child

Well yandere's are not meant to be selfless, at least not the ones I write about, unless they are self-aware/lucid.

The batfamily is abusive in my story, they are not good. They are exactly all you should avoid in real life, the type of people I would warn you about if you get in a relationship.

Bruce especially, he's your father, he should care of you. Love you, protect you and this is the issue with him. He feels like he needs to have that image towards you, towards the world. If he isn't the loving father who's also a playboy it feels like his ‘normal’ life would be destroyed.

Bruce is selfish, Bruce is actually what he fights against. He just as a moral code that makes him seem like the hero.

[sknyuz]

cheers to youth | na baekjin

synopsis — seventeen begins to feel less like a number and more like a fleeting chance at youth for baekjin, and you're determined to help him reclaim it. now playing — cheers to youth - seventeen pairing — na baekjin x reader genre — a prequel to before the storm, fluff, hurt/comfort, f2l cw — mentions of violence (bruised knuckles, blood), implied gang activity, hints of trauma, light angst wc — ~3k

masterlist | join the taglist | 400 follower event

⤷ read before the storm here

note: i am soooo excited to bring them back <3 thank u sm bubble anon and i hope to hear ur thoughts about this. ur request was a great way to circle back to their story. so, here’s a bit more of a softer side to our before the storm couple, before before the storm.

baekjin has been tutoring you for a few months.

months of sharp pencil taps and hushed explanations about algebra formulas, chemical equations, and the difference between mitosis and meiosis. three months of neatly organized notes, and surprisingly, moving from the library to quiet cafes after school, and the faint scent of worn-out textbooks. and somewhere between “you’re solving this backwards again” and “just memorize the codes by category,” you started to notice it.

it being: baekjin is different from you—not in the way most teenage boys are. he doesn’t tease, doesn’t zone out mid-sentence or start humming the latest pop song stuck in his head, baekjin is the kind of different that feels… heavier.

he doesn’t skip class or doodles in the margins of his notebook. and he definitely doesn’t take mirror selfies or kick vending machines when their drink gets stuck. baekjin doesn’t scream when teachers announce a pop quiz—just flips the page like he’s been expecting it all along.

you notice it especially in the way he walks—like he’s older than the rest of you. like seventeen is just a number he has to wear, not a year he gets to live in.

for you, seventeen is messy. it’s loud and full of mistakes, it’s glittery pens and bad decisions and crushes you won’t remember in two years.

but for baekjin, seventeen looks like duty, like pressure. like everything could fall apart if he dares to slow down.

and then the bell rings—that sharp, metallic echo that usually means freedom.

but baekjin doesn’t flinch with relief, he flinches like he’s bracing for something.

when the bells ring, i become fearful / these days, my heart gets scared first

you’re walking out of the building together, the sky bleeding into early evening. his backpack’s weighed down with papers—union notes, scribbled with surveillance details and plate numbers, things no seventeen-year-old should have to memorize.

he doesn’t bother hiding them from you anymore.

maybe he tried, once—keeping his bruised knuckles in his sleeves during tutoring, glancing at his phone under the table like it wasn’t burning a hole in his pocket. but now, he knows there’s no point, you’ve always noticed more than you let on. maybe you’re not as oblivious as your homeroom teacher thinks you are.

and maybe that’s why he lets the notes spill out so easily now—right next to your math textbook, like they belong there. he doesn’t flinch when your eyes catch the names or the red circles. he doesn’t apologize when he’s late, when his jaw is tense, when there’s dried blood on his collar.

you don’t push, you never ask about it.

and somehow, that quiet understanding—your decision to let him keep his secrets without making him feel like a secret—is more comforting than anything.

it’s not subtle, nor is it normal. but for baekjin, it’s something that feels oddly peaceful.

“do you even like being in high school?” you ask suddenly. your voice is light, but your heart’s not.

he doesn’t look up, just keeps writing something in his notebook as he walks. “…that’s not the point.”

i want to be alone, but i don’t want to be alone / i don’t get myself either…

“what is the point, then?” you lean closer, not letting him off that easily, “if you’re not having fun now, when will you? when you’re dead or dying?” you snort, but baekjin tenses up.

his pen stalls, the tip presses too long into the page, leaving behind a blot of ink. you watch it bloom like something bruising.

he lifts his eyes to you, just for a second, and there’s a flicker of something there—something soft, almost unsure, like a door left ajar. like he wants to say something, but doesn’t have the words for it yet.

so you smile at him, and that’s when you decide: if baekjin can’t find the fun in seventeen, then maybe you’ll just have to bring it to him yourself.

you take him to a photo booth after school.

you pile silly props onto his head—mismatched glasses and floppy bunny ears while he tries to duck out of the frame.

“baekjin,” you say, tugging his sleeve. “just one picture. c’mon.”

he hesitates, so you squint into the lens and say, “if you don’t smile, i’m writing ‘DNA is my myers-briggs personality type’ on our next biology exam.”

his head jerks toward you, scandalized—and that’s when the camera flashes, catching the sound of his startled laugh mid-escape.

in this suffocating world / i smiled for a moment at something small…

you wait for it to print and tuck it into your pocket.

baekjin doesn’t ask for a copy, but you catch him glancing over your shoulder as you look at it again later. just once. like he wants to remember what that felt like. maybe he wouldn’t mind seeing himself like that again.

the next monday at school, baekjin finds the photo booth strip tucked inside his notebook.

the following week after tutoring, you drag a grumbling baekjin to the ice cream shop next to your academy. you hand him a cone that’s too bright, too blue, too artificial-looking. he stares at it like you handed him a grenade.

“just try it,” you say, already halfway through your own.

he takes a bite, flinching with a subtle grimace, eyes narrowing at the cone.

“this tastes like melted bubblegum,” he says flatly.

you laugh, “good! you’re supposed to taste your childhood.”

he opens his mouth—maybe to say childhood?, like it’s a foreign word. baekjin doesn’t remember much sweetness in his. only the kind of silence that swallows whole, the kind of pain that you outgrow only in size. there were no ice creams or photobooths, only cracked knuckles, bitten lips, too many nights where the only thing he tasted was copper and fear.

but now, he’s still in his youth, isn’t he? he’s still got time. maybe this—this ridiculous, artificial bubblegum flavor—can be the new taste of it, maybe it can fill in the blank spaces where laughter should’ve been, maybe it can be the one thing that finally overtakes the taste of blood in his mouth and ache in his chest.

so he doesn’t complain again. just finishes the whole thing, sticky fingers and all.

it just so happens we’re facing today for the first time / even if you hate yourself more from the deeply hurtful remarks you said / let’s not worry about it…

a few weeks later, something shifts in baekjin.

he shows up to tutoring with a split lip and silence clinging to his shoulders like a second jacket. he doesn’t offer an explanation, and you don’t ask—not yet. but you notice the way his eyes stay fixed on his notes like he’s trying to disappear into the margins. how the pen in his hand presses too hard, like he’s holding back something that wants to claw out.

you don’t like the way he flinches when someone laughs too loud outside the café window. or how he doesn’t touch his drink, just lets the ice melt.

so you slam your notebook shut and say, “we’re going out.”

baekjin blinks. “…what?”

“noraebang.”

“no.”

“yes.” your voice is firm, but you smile. “you can sit in the corner and sulk if you want. but you’re not going home like this.”

he sighs like he hates that you notice things, but he follows you out the door anyway.

the karaoke room is smaller than you expected, the mic a little too echoey, the screen slightly lagging behind the beat. still, you’re already queuing up songs while baekjin stands awkwardly by the couch like he’s considering making a run for it.

“i don’t sing,” he mutters, eyes scanning the laminated songbook like it might bite.

“good thing i do,” you grin, clicking on a familiar intro—the kind of upbeat, fluttery track you know he’d never pick.

you toss him the tambourine, and he catches it without thinking. “what am i supposed to do with this?” he asks, gaze flicking up to you—quizzical, unimpressed.

“participate in your youth!” you say, already grabbing the mic as the first verse starts.

he rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t leave. a minute later, he’s still there—half-heartedly tapping the tambourine against his palm as you belt out the chorus, your voice cracking with enthusiasm more than skill.

we should be solving quadratic formulas right now, he thinks. and you probably will flunk your next test at this rate. he sighs with the thought—but that also means he’ll have to tutor you again next week.

his eyes drift toward you—they don’t leave.

with our voices, wherever we are, let’s sing—cheers to youth…

baekjin doesn’t sing, that part was true. he doesn’t even hum. but there’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth, barely there. his eyes stay on you like the rest of the world has gone quiet.

and for once, the union feels a little less close. like in this cramped, echoey karaoke room—with you laughing off-key under dim lights—it’s somewhere far away, out of reach.

it’s raining when you step out of the karaoke room. not a drizzle—a full, angry downpour, bouncing off the pavement and pooling along the curb.

“perfect,” you mutter, tugging your bag over your shoulder. you forgot your umbrella—again—but baekjin didn’t.  he sighs, pulling out a small umbrella from his backpack. “you always forget yours.” this wasn’t the first time you forgot your umbrella.

“i like to live on the edge,” you grin, ducking under his. he stiffens a little as your shoulder brushes his.

your place is only two blocks away. you insist it’s faster than waiting, and baekjin, though visibly reluctant, walks beside you in the downpour. the umbrella doesn’t quite cover both of you. but he doesn’t complain when your shoulder brushes his, or when his other one gets soaked in the rain.

he should be with the union right now, there’s a meeting and he knows it, feels the weight of it tugging at the edges of his mind like a leash. but your warmth is close, and the rain is loud, and somehow… baekjin’s legs move before he thinks.

a few minutes later, you pause at your doorstep, rainwater slipping from your sleeves as you fumble with the key.

“your parents… probably wouldn’t want me staying,” he says, clearing his throat. his voice is steady, but his eyes flick to the street like he’s searching for a way out. he shifts back a step, fingers tightening on the umbrella still dripping at his side. “i should head out.”

but he knows it’s just an excuse. he noticed it earlier—how he softened without meaning to, how stepping inside your world felt like crossing a line he wasn’t sure he deserved to.

“i live alone,” you say, quiet but certain.

not many things surprise him, but that piece of information might have made him feel it. maybe because you always seemed like someone who’d come home to a warm meal and soft smiles, the kind of person whose energy felt… loved. lived in. he never imagined you turning the lights on to silence—never pictured you being alone in the same ways he is.

a flicker of concern bubbles in his chest—unfamiliar, uninvited, but not unwelcome.

it settles beside the rest of the feelings he hasn’t named yet.

he hesitates… then steps inside.

your apartment is small, a little cluttered, but warm. the kind of place with mismatched socks drying on the heater and cereal boxes stacked on top of the fridge. baekjin’s eyes scan the room like he’s trying to memorize it, but he doesn’t say much. just sets his shoes neatly by the door and follows you inside.

you hand him a towel. he takes it with a quiet nod, his gaze flicking toward the small, but comfortable mess of your space before he looks away.

later, he lies beside you on the floor under a ceiling of glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck up last summer. they’re uneven, a few peeling at the corners, but still glowing faintly above your heads like they’re trying their best. baekjin doesn’t ask why you put them up. but he thinks about how you probably put them up alone—no one else around to help. and for a moment, he almost can’t stop a faint grin from tugging at his lips as he imagined how clumsy you would’ve been, but it’s swallowed by the dim light and his unsaid thoughts.

the rain hasn’t let up, tapping soft against the windows like it’s afraid to interrupt. you’re both wrapped in different ends of the same blanket, quiet now. your breathing steady, his a little more uneven.

in this trivial warmth of the cozy blanket that wrapped around me / i fall asleep waiting for tomorrow again

baekjin doesn’t talk about himself, not at all. he’s the kind of boy who folds in on silence, who carries things so quietly you forget they weigh anything at all. but tonight, something in that boy shifts.

he turns toward you, eyes catching the stars for a second too long.

then, his voice comes out softly, the quietest and most hesitant you’d ever hear him speak: “i don’t think i ever let myself feel like this.”

you blink. “like what?”

he shifts his weight, a small, frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “like it’s okay to just… live like this.” he doesn’t say it outright, but you understand. his voice cracks, just barely.

you roll over to face him and your eyes meet in the dim, “it is okay, baekjin.”

he stares at you for a long moment, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to believe you.

then he exhales. “i want to hate myself a little less than yesterday.”

the loud alarm that rings every morning / i want to hate a little less than yesterday…

he doesn’t say much when he leaves in the morning. just a short nod and a glance that lingers at your door a moment longer than it should. but later, at school, you notice something new.

after a big test, maybe—one that baekjin had crushed, as usual, without breaking a sweat.

a photo strip—creased from being carried around, tucked into the clear back pocket of his phone case. you in heart-shaped sunglasses and his startled smile, next to his test marked 100.

he doesn’t hide it when you see, doesn’t pretend it’s not there.

“you worked hard,” you say softly, voice quieter than usual.

and you’re not just talking about the test score, not really. it’s the way he’s finally letting himself live—if only for a few moments here and there. letting himself be a kid, even if it’s just with you. that’s the secret you hold dearly.

his gaze shifts, and his chest lifts a little at your words. he knows exactly what you mean. it’s not about the paper, not at all.

“it wasn’t easy,” he echoes, voice low, as if the weight of it hasn’t quite settled in yet. “but it wasn’t so bad.”

as i’m heading home, ‘you worked hard’ / that it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t so bad…

and maybe that’s how it starts—an ice cream cone, a bad karaoke duet, and a quiet night under plastic stars.

baekjin doesn’t let people in easily. but after your tutoring sessions, it slowly becomes routine. a few steps slower on the way home, maybe a shared drink at the corner store with his hand brushing yours once, then not pulling away the next time.

he starts showing up without being asked, and starts staying a little longer each time. and eventually, you stop counting how many times he lets himself be part of your world.

and then one afternoon—weeks later, a sky still pale from winter light—you pull out a paper you’ve been hiding all day: a perfect score. red ink, circled on the 100. you hold it out to him sheepishly while he lounges on the floor of your apartment, flipping through a children’s comic book like it’s riveting literature.

“what’s this?” he asks, taking it. his eyes scan the paper, and for the first time since you’ve known him, his eyes that usually held such a stoic, piercing gaze widens, genuinely stunned.

“you—” his voice breaks off, and then suddenly he’s up, paper still in hand, arms wrapping tight around your waist. you let out a startled laugh as your feet lift off the ground.

“you actually did it,” he says, half in disbelief, half in something that sounds suspiciously like pride. “you—god. you did it.”

you blink down at him, never before seeing him so animted. “was that… enthusiasm? from na baekjin?”

he doesn’t let you go, just presses his forehead to your shoulder with a quiet laugh.

“shut up.” but his smile doesn’t fade—not for a long time.

everything will be good, because it’s me…

and from that moment on, na baekjin finally, fully lets you in.

not just as the person who makes him laugh at photo booths or forces him into glittery karaoke rooms, or as a distraction from the union, from the weight he always carries so carefully on his own.

but as something more.

you become his outlet not just for stolen youth, but for something completely new to him—affection.

the kind he never knew how to ask for. the kind that’s soft and lingering, tucked into things like packed snacks on long study days, or the way he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before you even ask.

na baekjin doesn’t say much, he was never the one for long explanations or complicated conversations.

but when he starts reaching for your hand without thinking, when he leans in a little closer on the bus station as you wait for your bus home, when he lets his gaze linger just a beat longer than it should—you know.

you’re not just something he’s letting himself want, you’re something he’s letting himself have. in the midst of re-discovering his youth, na baekjin discovers you.

cheers to youth

note: i had wayyy too much fun writing this, and creating the gifs !! do you notice how the spark gets stronger? i hope everyone appreciates this little glimpse into what life was like for our before the storm couple. hopefully this healed something in the readers of before the storm, lol. consider this my apology for the pain that bts caused >~<

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[starberry-cupcake]

I want to tell you a story today.

Let me tell you about how I was finally able to finish a collection of incredibly specific 20+ year old elusive esoteric booklets, after years of looking for them.

No, no, wait, don't scroll past yet. Hear me out.

Is this the most interesting thing ever? It depends. Will it do numbers on tumblr? Not at all. Does this story sound like the statement from someone in The Magnus Archives? Absolutely.

"Statement begins", and all that.

Circa 2001-2002, I was a young girl and asked my dad for a little booklet on witchcraft. As young girls do.

It was part of a collection which was released in newspaper stands and, in my memory, it was something that you had to pay a bit extra to get alongside a specific newspaper, one that is rather informal. My mom also asked for one of the booklets, about past lives. My dad got them both when they released.

I was very interested in my little witchcraft booklet, I found the stuff both fascinating and recognizable. Any Latine can probably tell you about the very particular blend we have, especially in the outskirts of big cities, of brujería, curandería, santería and original people's cultural influences. The book reflected this in a way that sounded familiar and also gave new insights.

One day, though, my booklet disappeared.

I never had evidence of what happened but I had, at the time, a friend from school who was from a very religious family. She kept warning me about the book and how what I was doing was wrong and dangerous and how I would eventually "find Jesus". She just stopped mentioning it once the book mysteriously vanished. So, I don't have hard evidence that my book was taken, but I don't have much doubt.

I grew up and my interest for these types of things evolved to encompass different forms of folkloric and cultural insights, especially on how they represent different social contexts. I have a very particular and maybe conflicting view on spirituality but, in any case, these things interest me.

I also became an editor and I love peculiar publications. The history of publication of something, especially rare, can say a lot about its context.

I ended up reading and buying other books with esoteric themes, but that little booklet resonated still, because I could never find again something that spoke so directly to what I had grown up with.

There are a lot of publications about European and North American practices, very often the most popular folklore calendars are strictly set in the Northern Hemisphere. Some Latine authors tend to blend different things from abroad in their books, rather than talk about just us.

This little booklet was a one of a kind, I realized. In its humble and unapologetic simplicity, it contained the voice of who we were.

So, I set to find it again.

My mom had kept her booklet, the one about past lives. It had the name of the collection in it (Revelaciones), the name of the publisher (Agedit) and a list of all the books in the collection at the end. They were 12 in total. There was not a single author name in sight.

The list includes: Numerology, Runes, Past Lives, Modern Witchcraft (the one I had), Chiromancy, Tarot, Dream Interpretation, Crystals, Tasseography, Graphology, Chinese Zodiac and Astrology.

For a long while, my search only resulted in sold out listings of one or two copies. I also came across additional findings that made my search difficult (this is where I get nerdy in a publishing way):

These books had been out of print for almost 20 years, when I started searching.

These weren't really "books" per se, they were published as such (they had an ISBN) but were sold as if they were magazines.

They were never distributed to bookstores and didn't have any new editions or reprints: they had, most likely, only one print run for each booklet.

The ISBN of the book I had didn't show results online.

I found out the reason for these two points through an archived government official bulletin: the publisher went bankrupt in august of 2003.

Given that there were 12 books, they would have taken between 4 months and a year to complete the collection, depending on how often they came out, so the collection ended shortly before the publisher closed down.

Because of the way in which they were distributed (through newspaper stands) they were given by consignment, meaning the booklets that weren't sold were given back to the publisher when the next issue came out.

Due to the fact that the publisher went bankrupt shortly after, it's highly unlikely that remaining copies were sold as such, it's much more likely that they were sold as paper for re-purpose.

Especially since 2001-2003 was a Bad Time for the economy of Argentina. A Really Bad Time.

The books were edited before the book law changed to make mandatory the use of a bibliographical index, so the books themselves don't have the information now required to register a book printed inside them.

There is not a single author name anywhere.

I found out that the publisher had a very wide variety of magazines of different subjects, including a kids' magazine of the channel I started watching anime in as a kid. Between Captain Tsubasa and cartomancy there's just one step.

So, the only avenues left were patience and book sellers who dealt with used copies of both books and magazines.

After some years of searching, in 2022, the book appeared in two different online sellers: one sold it alone and the other in a set with other 8 books from the collection, including the one my mom had. The book sold alone seemed in worse condition and the set had a lower price per unit.

So, I bought the set of 9.

They were in pretty good condition, all things considered. These books were not meant to last. The paper weight vs cover weight ratio is bonkers (the cover is magazine thin), the binding is poor and the books are almost all slightly different sizes. They also have different fonts for the titles. From an editing point of view, they're atrocious.

That only made them so much more interesting to me.

Only one of the books I got in that set had an explicit author: Chinese Zodiac. I assume that one was commissioned to the person whose name appears in it. I did google the man and he doesn't seem to be much of a writer of the subject anymore, he specializes in Tai Chi and Kung Fu, apparently. Seems that his expertise only extended to that one book in particular.

The rest, though. The rest are a mystery.

I don't know if they were written by the publishing team or one person, but they feel like there was one person behind them, for the way they're worded and how they talk to the reader. Or, at least, a different person for different books. They're not detached enough to feel like the work of a team investigation project.

They are also more involved than a newspaper stand collection has any right to be. Talking about Saint Germaine and Cornelio Agrippa and geological specifics of crystal structure. At age 12-13 I wouldn't have paid attention to that but now, knowing what it takes as an editor to put this out and knowing they were a sinking publisher, I've got to respect the craft.

However, the ISBN situation is a NIGHTMARE. The collection changed the ISBN format for these books once every four books.

I could have stopped there. I had my original book, it was just as I remembered, and I got 8 extra books, some with subjects I was very interested in.

However, the tarot book was not included in the set. And that was one I really wanted to get. So, the search continued.

In 2023, my sister gifted me the tarot book. It was from a seller who only had that one and it was in worse shape than the rest. It feels like it was used more than the others. Something was definitely spilled on it. Someone might have learned with it for a long time.

It was very in-character with what I knew from the collection that it focuses solely on Tarot de Marseilles, which is the one most commonly used here (the cover of the book has an RWS deck, so whoever made the cover did not consult with the mysterious author, who used Marseilles iconography inside).

But, again, unnamed author. And the ISBN situation wasn't getting any better. The format of the ISBN in the tarot book matched the one in the crystals book, which gave me an idea of the order list being more or less accurate. Emphasis on "more or less", you'll see.

At this point, I was deep into this. I had 10/12 books, I thought I might as well try to complete the collection, right? How hard could it be?

Well, the two books left were the most elusive of the bunch: chiromancy and dream interpretation.

During my years researching these books, the chiromancy book showed up in pictures just once. I knew what it looked like, but I hadn't seen it for sale. Ever.

That is, until it popped up in early 2024.

I made a post about it at the time. This one was the most expensive of the bunch (not crazy expensive, not even the price of a brand new novel, but expensive in comparison with the others) but it was the first of its kind I had seen in all my years looking, so I got it as soon as I could.

By this time, some repeats had shown up here and there of the books I already had, including a Tarot book in better shape, but I had to draw the line somewhere. There are some that seem to be easier to find than others. Maybe because they were more popular back then, so they didn't get returned to the publisher to turn into pulp.

The dream book though? I still had never seen it.

Not a photo, not an old listing, nothing. I had no frame of reference for what that one looked like, only the title listed in the other books (Interpretación de sueños).

I started losing hope on that one. I started wondering if maybe it had never been released in the first place. Or that maybe it was the most popular one, so people kept it more often than selling it. After all, dream interpretation can be more mainstream a subject than palmistry or tasseography.

The one thing making me doubt that it was unreleased, the one thing keeping me going, was that the last two books on the list (astrology and Chinese zodiac) were listed in an incorrect order until the 11th book. Remember I said the list was "more or less" accurate? Things can't be that simple with this collection.

The list at the end of almost all of the booklets makes me think that astrology was meant to be the last one, but it ended up coming out as the 11th, and they changed the list order upon its release. Maybe the only known author who was commissioned, for the Chinese zodiac book, needed more time to turn in the manuscript.

I thought that, if they had taken the time to change the end list by the 11th book, even if there were only two left, they would have probably removed the dream one had it not come out as planned.

So, it had to exist.

Last week, I was thinking about the books again, as I have done for years, with my hopes of finding the last one almost non existent.

I decided to check in MercadoLibre and wasn't finding it. I went on google and wasn't finding it. I went to google images and nothing. I changed some of the words in the google images search here and there and...

IT SHOWED UP

It had been listed for sale 6 days prior to my search. By a bookstore called "Gluck". My German is beginner-level but I'm pretty sure that means "luck" (at least "glück" does). What are the odds?

The price was pretty cheap but the shipping was a bit steep, so I looked if they had a used copy of Lestat I was looking for, to make up for the shipping cost. I wanted an old Lestat to go with my well-loved 90s edition of IWTV. Turns out, they had an old copy of Lestat, for cheap, because it had what looks like a bite in a corner of the cover. A dog bite, I mean, or cat, not sure which. Perfect. Glück indeed.

So, last week, it finally arrived. The last piece of the puzzle. The dream book.

Turns out, the title was wrong all along.

The list had it as Interpretación de sueños and it was actually called El significado de los sueños. No author, but a promising table of contents. It wasn't the subject I was most interested in but the variety of topics covered is a lot more interesting than I expected.

Still, the most important thing here is that I FINALLY HAVE THE WHOLE SET.

Some insane things about the collection, now that I can look at all of it for myself:

Almost all are mismatched in size

Some have printing mistakes (for example, Astrology has cut marks and extra blank space that wasn't removed)

The last one is wider

The first one doesn't have the list of books

The one about past lives has a different title in the spine than in the book

The one about dreams has a different title in the list than in the book

The one about crystals has a different title in the list than in the book and spine

The one about tasseography has also a different title in the list than in the book and the spine

Most of the cover photos seem to be from different sources, I always believed the one my original book had was taken by the people making the book, because the little owl on it is a Kinder toy I had as a kid

I can now tell you how the ISBN works, so you can look at the madness with me.

The first 4 books have a different ISBN for each, with a change in the part of the ISBN that signifies particular book.

It goes from 8 to 11 and the book with the number 9 is listed as 3rd and not 2nd in the interior list (in my memory, it was 3rd, because that was my mom's book and mine came after, but who knows). All of these have a side bar code with the number 00001.

The next batch of 4 continues having a different ISBN for each book, from books 12 to 15, but the side bar code number also changes, going from 5 to 8, signifying the number of the book in the specific collection.

The last batch of 4 all have the same ISBN, as if they were the same book, with the number 22 (what happened to 16-21? who knows), but they do continue with the side bar code numbers from 9 to 12.

It's wild. I wouldn't have been able to predict anything from this.

Still, here they finally are. I have collected them all. And here's the one that started the interest for this quest.

Put together, they constitute a pretty vast amount of pages. The booklets by themselves look rather short but, together, it's a pretty impressive amount of stuff, and quite detailed for each topic.

I still don't know who wrote them, if it was one person or several, or if they even remember working on them, since it's been about 22-24 years since they came out and it seems to have been the dying breath of a now defunct publisher that didn't specialize in the subject.

But I hope that, wherever they may be, they know some people appreciated their work. Because these little messy books have a lot of personality and represent where I come from better than other more polished publications have ever been able to.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey sex witch,

i am so sorry in advance if this is a question you don’t/would not know how to answer. i’ll absolutely take it somewhere else if that’s the right thing to do. but to get to the point - i’m 19 and i just finished my freshman year of college. i lived in a triple this year, and i haven’t shared a room with people very often. for some reason, at some point, i gained this misconception that it was okay to masturbate in the same room as someone else if that person was asleep. writing that out, i really want to reiterate that i have no fucking clue why i thought that was okay in the moment. if i had to guess, i think i just had read something where a roommate did that and internalized it as normal behavior for some reason. not to excuse it - just to give some backstory as to what happened & why. so, yeah. that’s what i did, one night back in the fall. but within the next day i saw a post online where someone mentioned that their roommate did that & did internalize that what i did was fucked. so i never did that again, but i also didn’t tell my roommates because i thought that it would just make things worse, and just avoided talking to them because of what i did. and now i’ve moved out. and i guess what i’m trying to say here is - is the right move in this situation to tell them? my gut says absolutely not, but it felt like the wrong thing to just let them go on thinking i hadn’t done that. i really did like my roommates, and they didn’t deserve that. i thought my actions were an act of just being polite, making sure i was doing it at a time when they wouldn’t be bothered. but i do understand, obviously, that it was fucked up and i shouldn’t have. i just want to make things right, or at least as right as they can be. sorry for the essay, and i really appreciate any advice you can give me.

hey anon.

just to start out: no, you absolutely don't need to tell your roommates about jacking off while they were asleep. that's not going to add anything of value to their lives. this isn't a catholic church; we don't have to do confession.

I also think you're being, like, way too hard on yourself here. this isn't even in the top 20 worst roommate crimes I've ever heard; I feel like its somewhere worse than "leaving toothpaste blobs in the sink" but well below "knowing stealing roommates' food." you made a freshman roommate 101-level misstep, no one said anything, and you're not going to do it again. move on.

[whilesjunnie]

Vampire!Choso x amab reader

AN: Hey guys, this is my first fanfic so sorry if it’s not the best. I had a lot of fun writing it and will probably write more in the future. Tell me if you like it and feel free to leave any tips for new writers🫠

Tags: blood mentioned, smut, top choso, amab reader, spit as lube, biting, idk what else

“Baby pleaseeeee, just one little bite?…” Choso whined as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your shoulder.

“Cho, I fed you earlier. You hungry again already?” You whispered back softly as your body trembled, caught off guard by the sensation of your lover’s lips against your skin. The feeling moving down your body and stopping itself right at your cock.

His kisses somehow always managed to get you all hot and bothered within minutes, like he knew exactly where you were sensitive and where he'd get the best reaction out of you...which he totally did.

You don't exactly remember how this absolute hunk of a man had become yours, but he'd been like this for as long as you could recall. A clingy, obsessive, and needy guy with a taste for blood. Specifically, your blood. And you'd always give it up willingly. I mean, who could refuse such a cutie when he looked so good on his knees, grabbing at your thighs, just begging for a taste - a drop of your heavenly fluids? Definitely not you. Never in a million years.

So, when that same cutie came marching around the corner, plopping down beside you, and pulling you into his lap, who were you to ignore his requests?

“ ‘m not hungry. Just want another taste of you right now..." Choso's breathing was heavy and deliberate as he began to inhale in your scent. He took in all of you as if your existence was fleeting, like you'd disappear from his arms at any given moment and he needed to have all of you before that moment ever came near.

As your lover continued to plant kisses across your nape, you couldn't help but feel your pants tighten around your crotch, a bulge forming. "I guess one more wouldn't hurt..." You finally replied, deciding that you too, needed a taste of him.

He smiled as he heard your words. His soft smirk transformed into a fang baring grin, his breathing heavy as he leaned in.

You winced as you felt a bit of pain slowly blooming above your clavicle.

His teeth pierced your flesh, small droplets of red slowly spilling from the wounds. Choso lapped up the blood, sucking out the prized liquid.

His movements soon became more erratic after tasting you. Hands roamed your body, trying to feel all of you at once. He had decided that your clothes were his biggest enemy at the moment. Keeping him from seeing your body, his interpretation of absolute perfection.

So, he tore them all off you.

"You really could've just asked me to undress for you..." You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief as the mangled remains of your favorite shorts laid at your side. Whatever, you'd find a way to make him buy you better ones in the future. Right now, all you wanted to focus on was how you were going to handle Choso manhandling you for the next few hours.

-In the bedroom

Choso was kneeling in front of you, head resting on your lap as he looked up at you with a smitten look on his face. The way he admired you, his eyes devouring every part of your body. It made your erection throb with excitement, a bead of precum already forming at the slit.

"God, sweetheart... You're so fuckin' gorgeous… and pretty eager for me by the looks of it." Choso giggled, kissing his way up your inner thighs. He took his sweet time savoring everywhere his lips touched, loving how your legs trembled beneath his touch.

He would leave deep bite marks on your thighs, the pain blending with the pleasure you got from him. Most of the marks oozed blood before he thoroughly licked it all up, causing you to shiver.

“B-babe..please. You’re just teasing me at this point..” You whined, yearning for him to just take you completely.

“ ‘m sorry, love..I guess-I got carried away..”Choso chuckled softly, his attention moving to your cock. He hooked his hands underneath your legs, spreading you even wider while closing the distance between you guys.

You moaned, bucked your hips forward as you felt Choso licking your cock, leaving wet stripes of saliva up the shaft. Then, he took it in his mouth.

He tightened his grip on you, bobbing his head back and forth on your cock as his tongue massaged your tip. Taking you was hardly a challenge for him despite your above average size.

“Ngh! W-wait…give-give me a second.” You cried out. Choso, too engrossed in the feeling of you, ignored your pleas. He only moved faster, causing more moans and grunts to spill from your lips.

“C-Cho, ‘m c-close…so cl-close!” Hearing your words, your lover immediately slowed, coming to a complete stop as he released your cock from its oral confinement with a small pop.

“Don’t cum too fast, babe. I want us to do it together.” He said, finally climbing up on the bed with you. Once again, his hands found their place on your legs, pushing your thighs up to your chest with your ankles over his shoulders.

“Make sure to tell me if i’m going too far. I don’t wanna hurt you.” Choso said, leaning down for a kiss. Your lips met a short yet sweet embrace, one that left you begging for more of him.

Once he pulled away, he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and making sure they were nice and wet.

Somehow, the sight of his bloodstained lips sucking his fingers gave you butterflies in your stomach which were soon overpowered by the sensation of his fingers poking and prodding at your exposed rim.

Once he decided he’d teased you enough, He pushed his fingers deep inside you, earning an arch from your back followed by a soft moan.

He continued to thrust his hand inside you, his fingers scissoring open your tight hole for later use. You met his thrusts, clenching and grinding around his fingers, aching for more. “I-I need you, Cho…so bad. P-please, give it to me. I can take it…I’ll be good, promise…”

His already rock hard cock throbbed painfully against his boxers at the sight of you. You were coming undone for him while not have even reaching the main event. “You’re already doing so good for me, baby boy. Just stay like that, you’re absolutely perfect.”

As he took his fingers out, a dissatisfied whine left you mouth, making it known that you were getting impatient.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because in a matter of seconds, you felt Choso’s member enter you. His vigorous thrusts following suit.

Wet plaps, the grunts and whines of your lover combined with the chorus of your pleasure filled moans created a symphony of sexual noise in the room.

“F-Fuck! B-Baby…y-you’re still so tight. It’s too much.” He groaned, plowing into your ass even deeeper. Your g-spot was being absolutely destroyed by him and his obscenely large dick.

“I-if ya keep doin’ that…i’m gonna c-cum…won’t be able to hold it, b-babe…” You managed to mutter out, despite the ever increasing pleasure filling your insides. Tears formed in your eyes as you latched on to Choso’s back, nails digging into his skin.

“D-Don’t hold it in…C-cum for me, love…I’m so close too!”

With those words, you allowed yourself to let go, your body being sent over the edge, orgasming. As you came, you clenched around Choso as if trying to make your hole remember every ridge and vein his cock carried.

Warm ropes of semen painted your chest, some even landing on your face. This sight of you, all messy looking and with cum spilled all over yourself, was what sent Choso past his limit.

“F-fuck, I’m cummin���!”

His grip on you tightened as he leaned his face into your neck and bit down, hard. Many whimpers escaped his occupied lips as he shot his load inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lied there for a good while, Choso, licking the fresh wound he had made before looking back at you with his puppy dog eyes.

“Round 2…?”

[yatori-morgana]

I was originally going to leave this as a tag talking thing like I usually do, but no.

I'm throwing in my two cents, just like I did when I flipped out over people blatantly ignoring an important part of Jade's personality. (Long post under the cut. Book 7 spoilers are flagged and skippable.)

I like the V poly of the Octotrio — BUT ONLY WHEN AZUL IS THEIR EQUAL!! Why would they care about him to that degree if he wasn't? Jade and Floyd have made it clear they don't play with people who aren't worth their time, and a constant damsel in distress would likely fall into that. If you're not strong enough to take care of yourself, good luck, bozo! They've probably abandoned people for even less, too! (Baseless assumption, btw)

Azul is strong enough to hold his own, and he's intelligent and clever. He can worm his way out of most situations without resorting to violence, but if he has to, he knows what he's doing. He's physically strong, even if he can't exert himself for long periods of time such as with sprinting, and his magic control isn't something to be trifled with. Even if you outrun him, he could just as easily freeze you in place. Not only that, but [MINOR SPOILER FOR BOOK 7] he almost damn near broke Sebek's arm as he was clinging during the dream jump. [END OF SPOILER]

Azul is not a helpless damsel. He only ever portrays himself that way when he's tricking someone into giving him something he wants with minimal effort. That's cleverness, not weakness.

He's very precise, too, as we saw in his school uniform vignette when he practiced rolling dice until he could get the results he wanted. That also shows his tenacity, too, a trait the tweels respect. They love that Azul will try, fail, get back up, and try again. He doesn't quit, and he doesn't whine and cry to others if he thinks he can't do it. Sure, he may use others, but it's not because he's incompetent or incapable. It's called resourcefulness and maximizing results while minimizing effort. It's energy in, rewards out, same as how predatorial animals hunt.

The thing is, if Azul is struggling, they'll watch to see how he gets himself out of his own mess. [MAJOR SPOILER FOR BOOK 7] They left Azul to his own devices in his own dream, and they made it clear vocally that if Azul isn't strong enough to save himself, they don't need him. That was the deal between the three, something continuously brought up throughout the story people like to pretend doesn't exist. Floyd outright says in multiple ways, point blank, that they believe in Azul. They know he can overcome these obstacles. And when he does, guess what? Jade and Floyd hit your group with the "I told you so" beam. They knew Azul could do it. The twins mention that Azul getting everything he wants is boring, though. [END OF BOOK 7 SPOILERS]

The twins don't want Azul to always succeed or to always fail. They want him to be fun. And guess what part of his fun is? Self-sufficiency. Self-reliance. Being able to come up with ambitious plans himself and execute them in one form or another. They have never, ever babied him, and they never will. A babied Azul is a fake Azul.

Would they be protective of him? Of course! But they're not going to do everything for him, and if he can't do it for himself period, oh boy. He's either never going to hear the end of it or he's getting ousted, depending on the situation.

Stop treating Azul like a defenseless maiden or an utter crybaby. He isn't.

Sure, he cries when he's at his breaking point, but do you have any idea how hard it is to push him that far? We the player simply caught him at his worst moments. He isn't always like that! And the tweels make it very clear they don't like Azul being that way.

I don't mind people shipping characters. I don't mind them having fun. But at least TRY to keep the character accurate.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have chores to do. Have a great day/night, anyone and everyone who read this all the way through~!

how artists draw the tweels (NO INCEST GROSSS) x Azul

i dont like the idea of the tweels sharing azul thats just a no for me so i dont ship it

i like them when they’re jade x azul or floyd x azul but not a V shaped poly sorry guys it seems cute in theory i guess (IM NOT AGAINST POLYS THOUGH DO WHATEVER YOU WANT LMAO I JUST DONT PREFER IT)

but i swear these idoazu (IS THIS THE RIGHT TERM??) artists draw the tweels so fucking alpha male protective over azul like that mf cant kill people himself

ITS SO DUMB

why do these azul ship artists draw azul into so not azul and turn him into a weak little bitch like all that hardwork went into nothing

“why dont you let people have fun-“

dont you dare touch my girl. otherwise i’ll kill you 👿👿👿

I just dont like it when people make azul into this “always weak crybaby that needs help protecting bc he’s sucks at it”

HE LITERALLY EXPRESSED THAT IN BOOK 6 WAS NOBODY PAYING ATTENTION?? WAS IT ONLY ME AND MY OBSESSION WITH AZUL HELLO???? WAS I THE ONLY ONE WHO READ IT??

HE LITERALLY SAID THAT HE DIDN’T NEED PROTECTION FROM RIDDLE AND HE COULD FEND FOR HIMSELF

I JUST DON’T LIKE IT AND IT IMPLIES THAT JADE AND FLOYD THINK AZUL IS WEAK WHEN THEY KNOW AZUL ISN’T WEAK THAT’S WHY THEY HANG OUT WITH HIM

I KNOW DAMN WELL HE WOULD PICK YOU UP AND THROW YOU INTO THREE DIFFERENT BUILDINGS YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE. HE WOULD “ACCIDENTLY” SNATCH UR MAGIC AWAY.

HE LITERALLY HATES BEING UNDERESTIMATED GRRRR... GRRRRRRRR *I GROWL ANGRILY*

grrrrgrgrgrgrrggrgrwgfrwrgewiyq ijpw rhngrbfjwdkp[afgjnrsjhkfeALDPW{n PEOPLE WHO MISCHARACTERIZE AZUL MAKES ME GO... GO INTO MY REAL FORM GRAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[torglives]

on pangi and abandonment

awhile ago, on stream, lukey threw around the words commitment issues when talking about tr pangkey. it is more likely than not that he was talking about his own character, but a lot of the audience assumed he was taking a shot at pangi. which is very… hmm! not in a bad way, i think it just goes to show how easy it is to misinterpret his actions if you aren't clocked into the way he navigates his relationships with people.

he obviously has issues, but with his attachments they stem more from (i'd argue entirely from) his deep-rooted fear of abandonment rather than commitment.

pangi is passionately committed to people. this has never been something he's tried to hide or keep secret. it's something that cc pili mentioned during an on-stream ooc conversation about pangili/pangkey (watch that whole conversation, actually. he's nailed pangi's character very well. and his own obviously but that's a given. i love pili) -- "there is you who, i feel like you have separation anxiety to some degree. i feel like you're very "it's this person, or nothing." ... kind of like a ride or die situation." -- he brings up also, why this was such a point of contention between pangili1, because they had very different attachment styles, with mocha tending to lean towards avoidant attachment.

in the clip linked, a chatter says "abandonment issues hmm i wonder why (lifesteal)"-- and that's the perfect segway for me to drag ls pangi back into the spotlight. yay! i've said this before, but lifesteal and pangi's relationships on the server/throughout its history are probably one of the most important keys to really understanding him. on lifesteal, pangi has never truly been anyone's first choice. he devotes himself to people, to causes, but no matter how hard he'll ride or die for those things, it is never reciprocated. at his core, he is very lonely. he's not wanted in the way he wants to be wanted, but gives it his all anyway. it always ends the same way, he always ends up the same way: alone. quite literally abandoned.

of course this translates into the realm, and pangi finally finds someone who, to him, is what he's been looking for--his ride or die. his person, as much as he is theirs--in pili. it's pili or nothing, and this is the first time it's been mutual, so he plays it by ear. he lets it grow into co-dependancy willingly, because to be wanted is everything he's been looking for. but pangi is no stranger to abandonment, and during their first crisis, when pili says 'i don't trust you anymore,' pangi shuts down. he tries re-working over that open wound that pili left in his (VERY BRIEF) absence, because it's how he's learned to adapt. they, of course, come back together. and then pili dies, brutally, in front of him, with clown in mind. in february, after mocha died, i wrote this in an (outdated) (so i won’t link it) thought post:

pangi, as a character, is unable to linger. he feels the need to jump from thing to thing, never giving himself the proper time to sit and process. when his worst fear is proven, when he is shown that he isn't wanted or needed somewhere--he shuts down the part of himself that was trying to be wanted and needed. his way of 'staying on top of it all' is just adding another layer. he buries it under something new, and tries to forget about it and barrel onto the next thing. it never works.

which applies here too. i think it says everything i could even say. pili dies, and pangi is once again alone. despite his commitment, despite pili’s, it wasn’t enough.

and then ros and aimsey come along, and they’re kind to him--they get stuck in the null together, and nobody else can understand that outside the three of them. they both say things like "it’s us against the world," and "the three of us," and this works for awhile. pangi has people he can devote himself to, but this time it’s different, because there’s a disconnect--there’s a part of pangi that they don’t understand, the parts that more or less belonged to pili. pangi gives his all, but more importantly, his trust, but he’s never been great with words, and there’s no intrinsic understanding of violence like he’s used to, so it causes fallout. pili and pangi shared a similar mindset, that’s part of what made them work so well. for pangi, pili had aspects of home. ros and aimsey, despite how much they care, don’t understand that culture. ros breaks his trust, once, and to him, that’s abandonment. that’s always been a tell-tale sign of it. that’s betrayal, so pangi refuses to linger. he kills at the ball, takes the brunt of their anger, and leaves, because someone must leave. someone always must leave, so he does.

aimsey finds him a few days after, and says: "why did you think we hated you? it’s not like you do one thing that makes us upset and suddenly you’re the worst person in the world." -- but honestly, that’s all pangi knows. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

he still cares about them, so much, but it has put a permanent strain on their relationship, on his trust for them, because they don’t understand each other in the same way. he cannot be truly devoted to them, because he has been shown that they are not truly devoted to him. and that’s not their fault, not at all, it’s simply a gap in understanding. it’s something that pangi doesn’t understand about them, or them about pangi.

what’s that quote? "if you give me the slightest hint of abandonment and withdrawal, i would outdo you."

i could go into detail about the intricacies with his relationship with lukey too, but if you compare them to the points i’ve listed i’m sure you can draw the conclusions yourself--why they work so well, aligning in areas that have been missing.

people are very familiar with his hate, because it burns bright and is unavoidable. people are less familiar with his love, just as passionate, because it is easier to overlook, it’s less common. he is undoubtably devoted to those he hates and those he loves, and is consumed by how he feels for both of them. he will always commit, but is terrified at the slightest taste of being left behind, of being a second choice. of not meaning to others what they mean to him. again. it’s all, or it’s nothing.

[scuttle-buttle]

An American Christmas

A Thunderbolts* Christmas Fic

It was your first holiday season as a team - you and the Thunderbolts (and Bob). Yelena once told you she always wanted to experience an American Christmas. What better way to celebrate than with your newfound family? 

Rated: G (maybe T if you squint)

TW: mentions of past trauma and grief, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, hot second of walker discussing body image but he’s really just being extra, mild language, bonding and fluff, some light kissing (platonic thunderbolts and romantic GN reader x bob), overall this is really fun and sweet okay, little bits of flirting, thunderbolts spoilers, mostly going to be bob and yelena centered

~4.6k

AN: I had this thought and couldn't get rid of it. cool 🎄

❄��❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Uh….are you s-sure?" Bob stuttered, his fingers gripping your forearms like if he let go he would cease to exist. His worried eyes glanced around the others on the team, specifically Ava and Yelena. They were naturals on the ice. He told you that he’d never been ice skating before, his childhood didn’t lend much time to sports or activities or anything other than yelling really. You insisted that you would be there with him every step of the way.

"Yes, I've got you," you instruct with a nod, "now push off a little with the right foot and let your left follow.” Gently you begin to skate backwards, guiding Bob along. Even under the twinkling glow of lights, the colorful blur of thick downy coats, and laughter bouncing around the rink his brow was furrowed in concentration. He rocked unsteady. You were sure that his nails would leave indents in your skin through your thick sweater - not that you minded.

When Yelena had offhandedly mentioned to you that she wanted to experience her first American Christmas you knew what you had to do. Over a late night of drinking she confessed it. You both were reminiscing on the olden days, on the people you’d loved and lost. She told you of Natasha. How the last time she was in New York during the holidays it was shortly after she lost her sister and she had been so consumed with grief and finding Clint Barton that she never got to enjoy the festivities. 

The two of you had become close in an instant when you met. It was like you’d known each other your whole lives. Val had unwittingly recruited you after Bucky demanded that you work with the Thunderbolts - ehem - “New Avengers” - after the events involving the Void. By this point months later you were so close with the team you wondered how you ever got by without your found family. Alexei and Bucky were somehow the “parents” of your dysfunctional little group. Even Walker, who was a notoriously nicknamed “America’s Asshole” around the tower, was like a brother to you.

Which is exactly why you took it upon yourself to plan the most extravagant, most extraordinary, American Christmas for the team. So you made a list. Movies, decorating, presents - the whole nine yards.

First on the list? Ice skating and the tree lighting in Rockefeller Center, which is how you found yourself here holding hands and tugging a nauseous looking Bob around the rink. 

“Looking good, Bobby!” John whooped from the sidelines. Bucky leaned against the rail holding a cup of steaming black coffee, giving a silent cheers with his paper cup. Walker and Buck refused to get on the ice - you didn’t give them the option to not come to support Yelena and Bob - and they knew not to get on your bad side. 

Yelena and Ava whipped past you in a flourish, cheering for your teammate. “Yay Bob!” His blush darkened his already frostbitten cheeks.

You continued your laps, Bob getting slightly steadier on his skates. “How’re you feeling sweetheart? You’re doing so great.” His blue eyes met yours. You almost swore you saw a flash of that gold he kept buried deep down as his confidence grew. 

“Good - yeah I’m good,” he huffed in a sort of chuckle, like he was in disbelief at how well this was going. You both smiled at each other softly, almost shy. Bob wasn’t used to you being shy towards him. You had been quick to join Yelena in taking him under your wing. As time passed your bond deepened, changed. It was different from the others, yet no less significant. Stolen glances, whispered words, the occasional touch that lingered much too long, a meeting of lips in the most gentle of kisses. Nothing was official between you two, but everyone knew that there was something there. 

It felt like time stood still; almost like there was a spark of magic in the air.

Which…. didn’t last long.

With a gasp Bob lost his balance. The two of you went tumbling onto the ice in a heap of limbs. His arms circled around your waist, protecting you from the worst of the impact. People of all ages continued to dash around you. For a moment you just looked at your Bob, unsure of how he would react to the fall. His lip twitched once, twice, before breaking out into a wide grin, his laugh breaking the silence. You matched it with one of your own.

Icy fingers moved the fallen brunette locks from his eyes, checking him over for any injuries. “You okay?” He nodded, bashful.

"Are you? I tried to catch you." 

"I know. You're very good at breaking my fall." 

Bob snickers. His digits twitch against your side. "A guy's gotta be good at something. "

With a ksch and spray of snow Alexei skidded to a stop, his large body looming yet surprisingly lithe on skates. “Why you on ground? Be strong, Bob! You are strong and will conquer the ice!” With a powerful thrust and fist bump he was off.

“Yep. I will get right on that,” he called after to the retreating Russian with a shake of his index finger. 

After catching your breath you nod to the team who are gathering on the sidelines. “It's about time for the tree lighting. Let’s get some hot cocoa and find a good spot?” His hand entwined with yours as you pulled yourselves to your shaky feet, leading him back to the others.

The team quickly changed back into their shoes before finding the queue for hot chocolate. Thankfully it moved quickly. Stepping up to the window you ask “can we get 7 deluxe hot cocoas please-”

John interrupts. “-Only 6 deluxe. Just give me the regular.” The cashier nods while Bucky settles the tab, grumbling about how back in his day this would’ve only cost him a nickel. 

Yelena balks at his request. “What? Why are you ruining American Christmas!?”

“You don’t-” Walker sighs “-you don’t have to keep calling it ‘American Christmas’. Just call it Christmas, Yelena.”

“Even Bucky got the deluxe, and he’s an old grump,” Ava chimes in with a sideways glance. James doesn’t respond, just rolls his eyes and stays out of it. 

“Yeah well, all the sugar from the whipped cream and marshmallows is bad for my workout regime,” he trails off with a half-assed wave of his hand. 

“So…let me get this straight….” Ava starts, brow cocked high. “You, a super soldier, can’t have a little something sweet on holiday for fear it will ruin your metabolism, that you clearly don’t need, since the serum is making your body basically perfect? Hmm, yeah that’s such bullshit.” 

“Poor baby Walker,” Yelena cuts in with a sarcastic pout. The two women keep teasing John. 

“Alright- alright! I just don’t like marshmallows, okay? They’re weird and sticky,” he grinds out.

Even Bob looks affronted. “What? Everybody loves marshmallows…” Nobody has the heart to tell Bob that he has a whipped cream moustache coating his upper lip. It's adorable. You grab your mug and take a generous gulp, despite the heat burning your tongue. 

The blonde widow suddenly snaps her fingers - “Oh! I know what this is! You are the goblin man who eats Christmas!” Everyone stops to glance her direction confused. “You know!?” She starts gesturing wildly with her fingers, trying not to spill the drink overflowing with whipped cream and marshmallows and chocolate shavings. “He kidnaps the small girl and together they try to get Christmas, no? Stealing the toys and sugar plums from the little children’s dreams?” She mimics a plucking motion to demonstrate.

Nobody quite knows what to say until Bob quips in with a “do you mean the Grinch?”

“Yes! Thank you, Bob! See I knew I liked you best!” she jumps, giving the timid man a hug. “Walker is such a Grinch!” The spy immediately turns to you. “And I like you too because you are giving me my American Christmas!” she all but squeals. Once again Walker sighs in defeat.

Making your way to the festivities, the group finds a good spot to settle. Yelena oohs and ahhs at the tree, commenting on how big it is - “even bigger than your gun, Walker”. The crowd is beyond thick. You can feel Bob retreating into himself so you slip your hand into his, fingers entwined with yours. He shoots you an appreciative smile. 

Soon enough the countdown begins. 

“Three! - Two! - One!” 

The tree’s lights nearly blind you with all their shimmering glory. Beams of white, red, blue, and gold scatter across your faces, illuminating the sparkles within Bob and Yelena’s eyes, open wide with wonder. Though you’ve seen the Rockefeller tree several times growing up it never ceases to amaze you with its grandeur. Daring to peek around, you spot the same look of wonderment on your found family. Alexei cheers raucously from behind, Ava and Walker are not bickering for once, Bob has his mouth hanging wide, and Yelena’s expressive eyes are wet with unshed tears. You think you even see a smile on Bucky’s usually grumpy face.

You give Bob’s fingers a gentle squeeze, all while leaning over to wrap your arm around Yelena’s shoulders. Giving the man beside you a kiss to his cheek, you lean and give a chaste kiss to the Russian girl’s hair, whispering “merry American Christmas, Lena.” 

__________________________

“Has everyone got on their sweater?” you announce while standing in the center of the team. The 6 other members of the Thunderbolts New Avengers stood lined up. It was clear that they were not the most excited bunch about this… excursion… of yours. And then there was Lena. She was practically bouncing with excitement. 

Bucky pulls at the collar of his sweater - some itchy woolen contraption full of stripey green and red patterns. It was hideous. But Yelena was excited so he dealt with it….mostly. “Do I really need to be matching in this….thing?” he pulled at the collar again. I could just wear something red and stand in the back.”

“Yes,” both you and Yelena retort, “and no.”

John shifted, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “Shit… This is embarrassing. Why are we doing this, people are staring,” he whispered. Walker gave a weak wave at the people passing by with their cell phones raised. 

“Because this is what regular people do for the holidays,” you respond with a more genuine smile on your face, passing out a plethora of red Santa hats.

Ava stood with her arms crossed. “You Yanks are odd.”

The line moved up until it was your turn. “Alright everyone, here we go. Remember - hats on, smiles up!” 

Everyone gathered around the plush chair. Alexei gave the jolly man in a red suit a slap on the back, thanking him for bringing ‘joy to children,’ but not without bringing up how Russia’s Morozko was still superior to the American version. The mall Santa didn’t quite know what to make of that, letting out an awkward chuckle. 

You stood with Bob and Yelena right in front, your arms wrapped around their backs. Yelena had managed to find a prop of a beautifully wrapped gift, holding to her chest like it was precious cargo. Meanwhile Bob fiddled with the edges of his sweater, oversized just like he preferred. 

“Alright everyone -  say ‘American Christmas!’”

With a click the camera shuttered, capturing the photo.

Nobody quite knows how the Mall Santa picture made it onto the team’s official social media accounts - ugly Christmas sweaters, floppy crimson hats, cheesy grins, and all.

_______________

“Are you sure it’s going to fit?” Bob says while trying to catch his breath.

“It’ll fit.”

He tosses an unsure look at you. “Yeah, but…it’s so big.”

You curl your arm around Bob’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, it’s not that-” you trail off for a few seconds  “-ah okay yeah it’s pretty big,” you giggle. He giggles too.

“Lena wanted the biggest we could get soooo” you gesture at the massive pine tree Bucky and Alexei were trying to set up in the common area. Bob had gone with them to pick it up while Yelena called all the shots on which was the tallest, thickest, most green tree on the lot. The three men brought it up to the Tower, Bob trailing along carrying the edge (he wanted to feel useful). “An American Christmas it is!”

“If you’re so worried about it why don’t you get Sentry to fly up there and make sure we get it in place, hm? Would be quicker than the ‘Gramps’ over there.” Walker kicks back on the couch, arms flipping through a magazine. He had been tasked with picking out decorations at the store with you and Ava; really you just wanted him to carry all the bags with his super strength.

Bob blinks before sputtering out "you know I can't use Sentry without… Him coming out too. Don’t think he really fits the Christmas spirit. But I can look and tell you if it's crooked, though." 

Yelena walks over and swats the back of John’s head as if to say ‘don’t ruin this for us’. She and Ava shuffle through the bags of decor. Bob shifts awkwardly in the center of the room pulling at his too-long sleeves, considering what task to do next. Yelena pulls out handfuls of red stockings, each embroidered with your names. Looking around her smile falls. “We don’t have a fireplace.”

Head ducking, Bob chips in. “I have an idea.” 

So Bob and Yelena begin the meticulous task of pinning up each stocking along the bar’s granite countertop, whispering to themselves about how they never got to do these things as children. For a moment you worried that your idea was just reminding them of all the things that haunted them. But when the two looked up with beaming smiles everything just clicked into place. You were meant to be here with these people, and they were meant to be here with you. 

You tasked yourself with finding the perfect Christmas playlist - all the greats like Bing Crosby, Burl Ives, even the occasional Mariah Carey. With the tree finally secured in place you all begin the task of putting up the remaining decorations. Lights and baubles and tinsel wrap the tree in every color. Candles and snowglobes scattered around the various surfaces, wreaths and garland adorned every door and window. Even Bucky got in on it, stringing popcorn to hang on the tree like he used to do with his sisters as children. It looked like a Sears catalogue from the 1980s. 

Yelena picks up the silvery star meant for the treetop. It was the final touch. She took a moment to ponder her reflection, seeing the smile that felt right, the light behind her usually dark eyes. Alexei ran his hand over her hair soothingly. “You look happy. Like when you were little girl, my sweet Malyshka with eyes so bright.” She buries her face into his chest as he squishes her in his arms, dropping a kiss to her head.

With a sniffle she lifts her face. “Hey Dad, could you give me a lift?” Alexei bends down as she climbs on top of his open palms. With perfect balance he lifts her towards the highest branch and she delicately places the star. 

It’s perfect. 

The newfound family gathers to admire their handiwork, chatting softly under the glow of the Christmas lights and flickering candles, mugs of tea and cocoa that Bob prepared as a reward for their hard work. Quickly the conversation turns to a heated debate on which holiday film was the best - Home Alone, White Christmas, or Elf. Ava tried to suggest the Nightmare Before Christmas but Walker argued it didn’t count, much to her annoyance.

Sliding your arm around his elbow you tug Bob away. He follows without question. “I need your help with something,” you explain while guiding him to the edge of the room. Stopping at the doorway you nudge something prickly into his hand. 

“Wha- oh.” A deep crimson spreads over his freckled cheeks. 

Mistletoe.

He looks up then stretches onto his toes, securing the sprig from the hook you’d hung earlier. Coming back down he licks his lips and locks stormy blue eyes with you. 

Biting your tongue you swallow down your nerves. Barely above a whisper you tell him “you know… it is tradition to kiss the person you meet under the mistletoe.”

He blinks in that way you know he’s fighting back another blush. “We uh-” he clears his throat “-we wouldn’t want to break tradition, would we?” You let him take the lead. He steps closer, his palm coming to rest on your waist. Slowly but surely hip lips meet yours so, so softly, almost as if you hadn’t done this before. When your hands come to rest against his chest it renews his confidence and he kisses you with more intent. Once, twice, thrice.

“Ewwww guys they are making out!” Yelena teasingly yells across the room, shocking you out of your moment. 

You jump apart. Bob’s eyes are wide as he pulls back a fraction to face the team. Shrugging he defends himself. “What? It’s tradition,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

______________

“Icing-”

“-Icing.”

“Gumdrop-”

“-Gumdrop.”

“Chocolate chip-”

“-Chocolate chip.”

“Bob-”

“-Bob-” a pause “-Bob…?” Lena questions, the name breaking her focus.

Big blue doe eyes flick between you and the widow. “Yes, Bob. Sweetheart, save some candy for the house,” you remind him with a wink as he lifts yet another piece of chocolate to his mouth.

You, Bob, and Yelena worked like a well oiled machine assembling your gingerbread house. Frosted window panes, peppermint paved sidewalks, and gumdrop shingles in every color brought your imagination to life. Yelena even placed a cutout of the mall picture in the front yard. “There. Now it is a tiny Tower for tiny Avengers.” 

“It looks great. Love the teamwork everyone!” You high-fived your two Thunderbolts.

“When do we get to eat it?”

You laugh at her question. “You don’t - the gingerbread in this is too hard to eat, we just decorate it. But-” you reach across the table towards the rest of the team “- that’s what these are for.” You shake the plate of fresh baked cookies at them. “How’s it coming Buck? Ava?”

In response they both just pause their conversation to show you the cookies they already finished. All are frosted the exact same; white, green, or red icing indelicately smeared over the top and a dash of sugar crystals thrown on top.

The widow nods. "Love the effort guys." 

“Simple.” Bob states, matter-of-fact and reaching for one to nibble on. “Ahn dehlishus;" crumbs tumble onto his sweater. 

“Lena - hey hey - which is better? Red Guardian, eh?” Alexei wiggles his brows and holds up a gingerbread man that kind of resembles himself in uniform, “or this guy, pfft” he gestures at Walker’s similarly designed self-themed cookie with a scoff.

“Wow. That’s so…. Did you give him your beard…?” Yelena squints at the cookie, which very much has a squiggle of frosting reminiscent of Alexei's facial hair. 

A beat passes before she shoots up out of her seat and lunges across the table. “I WANT TO MAKE COOKIE LENA!”

_____________

“How does the Secretive Santa work?” Yelena asked, eyeing the bag you held with furrowed brow like it would hold all the answers to the universe, or maybe a bug that needed to be squashed.

“Each person draws a name from the bag, but you have to make sure that you don’t tell anyone who you got. Your job is then to buy that person a gift to give them for Christmas.”

Alexei grunts. “What if I get myself? Do I buy present for me?”

“Then you draw a different card,” Ava says from next to you.

The big Russian grunts again and shakes his head in a nod, decaring “Red Guardian is great gift giver. You would be lucky to have him. Once in Soviet Russia I gift-”

“-Oookay dad thank you I want to pick now.” Yelena doesn’t waste a beat before shoving her hand in the bag, eyes squeezed shut, and pulling a name. She opens the slip of paper. Gaze drifting around the team she leaves no clues about who she picked, her poker face like that of a black cat on the prowl. 

The rest of the group follows her lead. You receive Alexei, knowing exactly what to get him already. Glancing around you watch as Bob draws a paper - you hold in a smirk seeing how the tips of his ears go red beneath his brown curls, his eyes darting to Bucky before hitting the floor. Your poor Bob, the darling man. 

___________

There were 2 weeks before Christmas for you all to sort out gifts, and boy did it go by in a blur.

Christmas morning comes. Finally.

You tried to be sneaky about placing your gift under the tree before the sun rose. Creeping into the living room, you spy Bob bent over placing a box snugly beneath a branch. “Pssst.”

“AH!” he jumps with a start, throwing his hand over his chest. “Geez you nearly scared me to death!” A flicker of yellow popped into his iris before disappearing. 

The present he placed was wrapped with a golden paper, too much tape and a wonky bow settled on top - just like the 6 others wrapped identically beside it. They caught your suspicion immediately. “Whatcha doing?” you ask in a singsong voice. 

His face is already beet red at being caught. “N-nothing. I- uh- got to go,” he stumbles over his words and bare feet as he retreats past you back to his room, but not before dropping a quick kiss to your cheek. 

With a shake of your head you decide to finish what you came for, adding your gift to the growing pile beneath the tree. On your way back to your room you stopped at the glass of milk and plate of cookies you insisted to Yelena, must be left out. ‘Like a sacrifice offering to Santa Claus’ she’d called it. Intending to take a few nibbles for the illusion, you noticed that someone had already helped themself to the treats (you would later learn that despite being sure it was Alexei or maybe John, it had actually been Bucky). 

Morning came soon enough, the 7 of you gathered around the tree in your pajamas. Steaming mugs of coffee were passed around. The radio was quietly playing christmas carols and the tv was tuned to a fake fireplace video. 

“Alright, who wants to go first?”

Alexei’s hand shoots up. “Red Guardian will start!” He digs around the pile of presents before pulling out a red wrapped box (to no-one's surprise). “For Mr. America.” John opens it to reveal a framed magazine clipping on his work redeeming himself as an Avenger and a toy action figure of himself. You can just make out the way his words catch as he thanks the Russian man.

Walker goes next, giving his gift bag to you. Riffling through you pull out a polaroid camera set. “So you can take more embarrassing pictures of us without dragging us to the mall again.” The team cackles at his “but seriously please don’t, I hate the mall.”  You thank him and open the camera, flicking on the switch, loading the photo paper, and posing with your new family behind you as you take the shot. They wait patiently while you label it as ‘An Avengers’ First American Christmas’.

Alexei receives his present from you next. The red striped paper is torn to bits in seconds; “Ah! YES!” he yells while holding up a custom engraved ‘New Avengers’ whisky glass set and bottle of top shelf vodka - Russian made, of course.

Bucky shifts. He places a sleek black box in front of Yelena. 

Her lips curve up, excitement hardly restrained. Delicately she lifts the tape on one side of the gift. Then another. The team waits with bated breath as she removes the lid. A choked sob breaks from her chest and she reaches in and pulls out a small trinket, then another. An old photo of two young girls follows, and a small envelope with the word Sestra written in delicate script. Sister. 

“They belonged to Natasha. Pepper had them in storage and I know Nat would’ve wanted you to have them.” Bucky explains. Yelena twists closer to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He holds her, comforting her as she mumbles something in Russian that you don’t quite catch. 

Tears calm and Lena cheerfully asks Ava to fetch the next bag under the glittering tree, bringing the team back from  the bittersweet moment. The Brit clutches several colorful eyeliner pencils and a certificate for a rage room. “Now we can have matching style when we save the world and then show these boys how it’s done, kick their asses!” they laugh. 

Ava starts her turn and passes a neatly tied Harrods box to Bob. He opens it with glee, his smile cracking huge on his face. “Oh, man- this- this is great Ava. Thanks!” Bob lifts up a charcoal grey knit sweater as if it's the best thing he’s ever seen. He puts it on over his sleep shirt, the sleeves dangling past his wrists just like he favors. 

Sweater half hanging off his shoulder Bob presents Bucky with his gift. James opens the golden box to reveal a can of car polish and a set of fingerless leather gloves. With a cock of his brow Buck holds up the polish. “It’s so you can- uh- keep your arm shiny,” he starts sheepishly. “And I know you tore up your gloves on the last mission.” 

Bucky nods in appreciation and gives him a nudge. “It’s great, kid.” 

“Hey Bob…. why are there so many presents left… that’s kinda weird, no? Weren’t you only supposed to get like, one?” Lena peers at him then points to all the identically wrapped presents leftover.

“Oh. Umm.” Bob rocks back and forth on his heels. “Yeah I- I guess but I just wanted to get something for everyone, you know? Because I just-” he clears his throat and looks down for a moment before meeting the group’s gaze. “-I just wanted you all to know how much you mean to me. After everything.” 

Yelena moves first, launching herself into a hug. You follow suit. Next thing you know Bob is under a dogpile of Thunderbolts, murmurs of ‘we love you Bob’ and ‘we’re so glad you’re part of our family’ and 'merry American Christmas' fill the room.

Finally breaking free, Bob passes out the remaining boxes to the team, and a flurry of gold and tape and wonky bows covers the floor. 

Ava gets a container of her favorite tea and jaffa cakes from back home. Alexei gets another Red Guardian Avengers Edition comic book for his collection. Yelena, one half of a ‘best friends’ keychain (Bob has the other half). He gets you a photo album to fill with polaroids; in the front slot sits the first group picture the team ever took. 

As the Thunderbolts admire the gifts, Walker looks up dumbly. 

“Is this a coupon redeemable for ‘one fixed shield’?”

[firelilyfox]

In your skin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: After a mission the two of you have to share a room & at first Bucky gets really mad about it but ... he means well.

Words: 2,3k

Warnings: mention of trauma, weapons, sharing a bed, fluff, heart to heart talk, real sad Bucky

Note: english isn't my mother tongue so sorry in advance :)

____________________________________

It got late real fast after the successful mission in Nairobi. 

The African heat gave way to the cool night, making it way more pleasant to find some sleep soon. Part of the Thunderbolts found shelter in a luxury hotel in the middle of the lively city, but there were almost fully booked so the only two rooms left had to be evenly shared. Yelena, Alexei, Bucky and me. 

„I will not let my daughter sleep in a room with another man“, Alexei barked. „No offense Winter Soldier, I have deeply respect for you. But my daughter will be protected from you manly charme by myself.“ His strong russian accent marking the importance of his protectiveness about Yelena. 

„Alexei I’m a grown woman and can protect myself from stupid men“ Yelena says unimpressed. The four of us were standing in the empty hallway, on each side a closed door and fitting keycards in my hands. I look at them and then up at Bucky. He was easily two heads taller than me with a strong disapproval look on his face, but he kept quiet. He was always the quiet one of the group (besides one or two snarky comments from time to time). „You can sleep with him then if you want“, Yelena adds. 

„Don’t be ridiculous. I will not let you out of my sight with this nasty wound. You are my daughter and I will protect-…“ but Alexei couldn’t finish the sentence because Yelena shut his mouth with her own hand. 

„Got it old man. So its the two of us and the two of you then.“ She pointed at me and at Bucky afterwards. I opened my mouth for approval but got interrupted immediately. 

„No fucking way“, Bucky grumbles.  

Okay. Ouch. That was unnecessary and a bit rude. 

Even the farther-daughter duo frowned in confusion. It was true that Bucky and had a …complicated way of acting around each other for the last couple of months. At first I thought we would be good co-workers. He always kept an eye out for me when I started to train with the Thunderbolts because I didn’t knew my way around and had a tendency to stumble into very unfortunate situations. For example that one time in Norway … ugh I rather not think about that. Nonetheless with time passing by he had become more like … a friend I think. Bucky was always there if I needed him - but never too close. Even a little part of me, that I desperately try to suffocate, wants him to be just … closer sometimes. 

„Do I get to tell my opinion in this?“ I ask a bit annoyed by his sudden rudeness. „I have no problem to stay with you in a room.“ He shoots me a deadly look but that doesn’t scare me off. Not the tiniest bit. No clue what his problem his, but I won’t let him push me away like that. If he has something to say, then he can tell me whilst sharing a god damn room. 

„Great! Its settled then. You two get to - ...“ 

„This isn’t an option“, Bucky interrupts Alexei again and this time he almost exploded. His voice had a much deeper and darker ring to it now. But it didn’t made me flinch. It made me mad. 

„Why does everybody interrupts Alexei all the ti-…“ 

„Well I don’t care. Here.“ I handed Yelena and her father one keycard and kept the other one for Bucky and myself. „I’m done with this conversation. Get in here.“ I tell him and opened the door with a soft clicking sound. 

„Have a pleasant night“, Yelena chuckles and disappeared with Alexei in the room across the hallway. Bucky stands still as a stone without any muscle moving. My rage was overflood by hurt. Was it really that awful to share a room with me?  

„I have no idea why its such a problem for you to stay in a room with me. If it’s because I am a woman then I can assure you it’s more than common in this century for a man and a woman to …“ 

„It’s not because of that. I shared a room with a woman before.“ He says and stepped around me into the hotel room. Paying close attention to our arms not touching by accident. 

I closed the door behind me. „Well good for you I guess.“ A little stab of jealousy hit me. „But if it aint that then why -…“ 

„We should get some sleep.“ And just like that there was another sentence that won’t be finished this evening. Great fucking fun. 

We got changed into our nightgowns and by that i mean that Bucky was still wearing his black shirt and boxer. While i got rid of almost every piece of clothing. In my underwear and a simple tanktop I sat down on the bed beside him. His metal arm flexing a few times he looked lost in thoughts. 

„How does it feel?“ I ask before I could stop myself. 

He frowns. „What do you mean?“ 

„I mean do you really feel everything? Like heat when you burn yourself while cooking or the fabric of a blanket?“ No clue why I was bubbling with stupid questions like that out of the blue. Might be the sight of him in boxers that fried my brain a little bit. I’m thankful he isn’t a mindreader. 

A soft smile lays down on his lips. The first since we entered this room. „Yeah. In Wakanda they have some very advanced techniques and great minds who work on stuff like that. I have not the slightest idea how this works.“ He holds his metal hand with the palm up and looks at me. „But it works.“ 

Without any thoughts I lay my hand in his. I expected the metal to be cold and hard. But somehow it felt warm and … real. Like it is more than just a piece of dead materiel. I moved my fingers along the palm and up to his wrist. It was formed exactly like his other arm. Strong and even the muscles were mirrored to the tiniest detail. Something comes over me and out of pure curiosity my other hand finds his real arm to compare the two of them. 

For a moment Bucky stayed completely still. He was not moving at all and I doubt that he was even breathing normal anymore. „Does it feel the same?“ 

He cleared his throat. „No.“ 

„What’s the difference?“ I look up and almost drown in his blue eyes. His face must’ve come closer. Or did I move in his direction? I don’t recall. All I know is that his nose was only inches away from mine, wich means that his lips were… 

„You should get some sleep. Now.“ Bucky rumbles with a husky voice. Within a second he stood up from the bed and moved to the other side of the room. 

There it was. The hurt from before hits me like a truck. 

„You really find me that repulsive?“ 

He opened his mouth. Stopped. Closed it and opened it again. All without saying a single word. Understood. „Will you come back?“ I ask instead. 

He has one hand on the doorknob. „Yes. When you are asleep.“ 

And so I did. I cried myself into a dreamless sleep. Drowning in my own self-pity because the guy I like would rather run away in the middle of the night, than share a bed with me. 

A bright crack tore me out of my slumber and I was wide awake in the matter of seconds. But not because of the thunderstorm outside the window. My fingers were curled around something cold and hard. The silhouette of Bucky was calmly sleeping beside me. My senses knew the feeling of this heavy metal and it wasn’t the arm I felt earlier tonight. 

It was a gun. 

A fucking gun in my hand. 

What? 

„Bucky?“, I whisper. „Bucky wake up!“ My voice pitched high, wich made him wake up instantly. 

„What is it? What happened?“ He asks breathlessly, eyes wide in shock, head snapping from side to side to make out any danger. But the only thing what would fall in that category appeared magically in my hand while I was asleep. 

I hold the gun up and waved it slightly. „Hello? Why do i have your gun in my hand?“ 

„Why are you so certain it’s mine, doll?“ His eyes narrow. I try to pull myself together because I didn’t expect him to call me by his pet name for me. He only used it a couple of times before and only when we were alone. 

„Oh please Bucky! I know your guns by heart. So why is it in this god damn bed?“ I shriek. 

He broke the eye contact and shuffled himself into a sitting position. The thin blanket that we both shared shifted down to his lap. Bucky leaned his back against the headboard and let out a deep sigh. „Just in case.“ 

„I beg you pardon?“ 

„Just in case you need it.“ He still has his eyes closed but I could hear in his voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

„James Buchanan Barnes you better cut that shitshow and tell me why you put that thing in my hand“, I say as I sit up, not caring that the blanket completely vanished from my body. 

Bucky turned to finally look at me. His expression were serious at first, but then his eyes dart down to my naked legs and at the waistband of my top that slipped up a bit, showing a small gap of my hips and stomach. I could swear to see his throat move as if he had to swallow … hard. And his face transformed from serious to something much more intense. Was it longing or am I now completely loosing my mind? 

„You are the only person I allow to call me like that“, he says with a tight voice. 

„Cut the crap. Now.“ 

Bucky sighs again. „Fuck. Okay fine. The gun is for emergency. In case you have to take me out.“ 

My heart stops beating for a painfully moment. With widened eyes I look at him. He sits there looking so broken, so serious about what he just confessed to me. His sad sad blue eyes studying me, waiting for a response. I know what his reasons are. He has terrible nightmares. Bad ones from his past and even darker ones made from his guilt. 

„The fuck I will.“ With two quick moves I dissemble the gun in its individual parts. Bucky watches me with disbelieve in his eyes. „I refuse to let you think I would ever do that.“ 

„Maybe you will not have a choice when it becomes bad!“ He tries to grab the metal pieces but I throw them away without a second thought. „When the Winter Soldier takes over I can’t guarantee for anything. He could do …“ 

„I don’t give a shit!“ I bark. „You would never hurt me. I know that in my bones.“ 

He lets his hand sink and land on my knee. It needs a lot of self control to not follow it with my eyes. „You’re right. I would never. But he could.“ 

I lean forward, just a little to make my point clear. „I trust you.“ 

„You shouldn’t.“ His voice was nothing more than a whisper. I could feel it brushing over my cheeks. „I’m a threat.“ 

I cock my head to the side. „Is that the reason why you didn’t want to share a room with me? Because you were scared that you might attack me in your sleep?“ 

He nods. And my heart shatters into a million tiny pieces. His hair falls in strains into his face making him look even more exhausted than ever. I've come to thinking about the fact that his mind had to be constantly in stay alert mode. 

„Do you ever let yourself catch a break, Bucky?“ 

At first he stays completely still. Then a deep, tired sigh. And when he finally looks up to answer he da the saddest smile on his face that I’ve ever laid eyes on. „I don’t think so, doll. Can’t remember.“ 

I reach forward to place my palm above his heart. It beats slow but a little uneven - as if my touch had an effect on him too. „You deserve to feel safe for at least one night. You deserve so much more than that.“ I leaned in his direction, let my body sink against his and gave him the chance to slowly get used to so much skin to skin contact. But he didn’t hesitate as I thought he would do. Instead Bucky pulled me so close that I imagined to morph fully into him. Melt together and finally feel complete. 

His metal arm laid wrapped around me and gave me the support I needed. His other hand placed at the back of my head - fingers tangled up into my hair. I feel his body relax beneath me and a little smile appeared on my lips. 

„Nothing I could do would ever made me deserve you, doll.“ His words rushed my system like a big tidal wave and i shook my head up from his chest to look at him. 

„You don’t have to do anything. Bucky you already own my heart. And you truly deserve it.“ 

He smiled softly. I could feel his hand on my head pulling me closer up to him. I obey happily. „I will take good care of it, doll. I promise to be worthy for you.“ 

„I know because you already are.“ 

Bucky kissed me. His lips were touching mine with such softness I almost cried. Hands so tender and carefully holding me while his mouth claiming my whole consciousness. I leaned into him to feel as much of him as I could. He deepened the kiss and I let out a sigh of relief. I swear I could feel him smile against my lips.

I know I will never get tired of this. Ever.