#baby bob | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magnetic-rose · 14 days ago

Text

thunderbolts fandom only existing for like... four days and already having so much absurd and annoying shipping discourse is just another side-effect of this enshittification of fandom that's been happening since *check notes* voltron and the pandemic imo.

but one of the most annoying recent fandom trends is forcing characters into this nuclear family dynamic and the way it's made shipping discourse unbearable. "alexei's the dad, bob yelena and ava are the big siblings and bob is the little brother," on paper, is a harmless headcanon. the problem is the weaponization of these family headcanons to fuel ship wars.

bob and yelena have a deep bond in thunderbolts. you can interpret it as a sibling dynamic. you can also interpret it as romantic or queerplatonic or literally whatever you want. the problem is the same people who call bob yelena's "little brother" are simultaneously saying that any romantic interpretation of their characters is "incestuous weirdo behavior."

like, can we not?

and while boblena is the ship that's taking the most heat right now, i've been seeing hostility towards any variation of any thunderbolts ships. john/ava, john/bob, bucky/alexei, bob/void (which, lmfao, is SUCH a typical ship to me that people getting up in arms about it just proves we've let too many normies into fandom spaces). even yelena/kate is catching strays right now. and it doesn't have to be this way.

again, can we not? just say you're not into any of the ships and move on with your life.

these are not siblings. these are grown adults who grew to care about each other after experiencing traumatic events. "found family" trope has gotten so out of control it genuinely makes fandom less fun.

#thunderbolts #marvel #mcu #boblena #sentryagent #winterguardian #johnava #also feels like relegating bob to simply being “cute baby brother” is a weird infantilization of a mentally ill character #he's a 30 year old drug addict who had a whole life on his own before the events of the movie.#he's a complicated man with serious issues and just infantilizing him into uwu sweet baby boy who's useless and needs to be taken care of b #his big siblings feels like a really patronizing read of his character

1K notes · View notes

sillygoose067 · 2 days ago

Text

Sunshine & Snuggles

Joaquin Torres x reader

The morning light crept through the blinds, soft and golden, casting gentle lines across the rumpled sheets. You and Joaquin had been awake for a while, tangled together in the warmth of your bed, his arm draped lazily around your waist, your legs still intertwined beneath the blankets. His bare chest pressed against your side, the steady, comforting rise and fall of his breaths a quiet, familiar rhythm against your shoulder.

“Mornin’, hermosa,” he murmured, his lips brushing the warm, sleep-flushed skin just below your ear, his voice still thick with that slow, gravelly tone that clings to the edges of his words when he first wakes up.

You hummed a soft, contented sound in response, your fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles along the curve of his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady, comforting thrum of his pulse beneath your touch.

“I could stay like this all day,” you whispered, leaning back just enough to catch the soft, drowsy curve of his smile, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me, cariño,” he whispered, his nose nuzzling gently against your temple as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw.

You lay there like that for a while, your breaths falling into the same slow, steady rhythm, your bodies wrapped up in the warm, drowsy tangle of sheets and each other’s limbs. Every now and then, his lips would drift back to your neck, his breath warm and featherlight against your skin as he murmured sweet, sleepy endearments in Spanish, his deep, rumbling voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Then, the baby monitor crackled softly on the nightstand, cutting through the sleepy quiet of the room, and you both stilled, heads turning slightly toward the small, glowing device as your daughter’s familiar, high-pitched babbles echoed through the tiny speaker. Her tiny, curious voice filled the room, a cheerful, singsong stream of sounds as she woke up in her crib, already chattering away to the shadows dancing on her nursery walls.

Joaquin’s lips curved into a sleepy grin against your cheek, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “There she goes again. Little morning chatterbox.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tightening gently against his shoulder as you shook your head. “Oh, please, you know she gets that from her daddy,” you teased, pressing a playful kiss to the corner of his mouth, the taste of him warm and familiar, like the slow, steady heat of a summer morning.

He chuckled, nuzzling his nose gently against yours, his warm, dark eyes crinkling at the corners as he whispered, “Okay, fine. You got me there.”

The baby monitor crackled again, another stream of soft, lilting babbles filling the room, and Joaquin sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before reluctantly untangling himself from the warm, comfortable cocoon of blankets.

“I’ll get her,” he murmured, stretching his long limbs as he rolled out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall, the sound of his footsteps fading into the gentle, early morning quiet.

You could hear the soft, creaking hinge of the nursery door, followed by Joaquin’s low, lilting voice, his words too soft to make out clearly but unmistakably warm and affectionate. A moment later, he reappeared in the doorway, your daughter bundled snugly in her swaddle, her tiny, round head resting just under his chin, her big, dark eyes blinking sleepily as she took in the warm, familiar surroundings of your bedroom.

“There’s mi chiquita,” he cooed, carefully climbing back onto the bed, settling her down on the soft, rumpled sheets between the two of you.

He leaned over, gently working the edges of her swaddle loose, his large, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he unwrapped her, the soft, cotton fabric falling away to reveal her tiny, wiggling body, her chubby little arms and legs slowly stretching out for the first time since she’d been bundled up the night before.

Both of you watched, utterly captivated, as she arched her tiny back, her fists stretching above her head, her little toes curling as her face scrunched up in that exaggerated, full-body stretch that only babies seem to master. Her pink, bow-shaped lips formed a small, perfect “o” as she let out a contented, squeaky little sigh, her tiny fists waving unsteadily in the air as if testing the boundaries of this newly unwrapped freedom.

“Oh, look at that big stretch,” Joaquin whispered, his eyes shining with that soft, unmistakable awe you’d seen on his face a hundred times since she was born. He leaned down, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her chubby cheek, earning a delighted, toothless smile in return as her tiny fists batted uncoordinatedly at his face.

Then, with a soft, playful huff, he scooped her up, settling her small, warm body against his broad, bare chest, her tiny, downy head nestled just beneath his chin, her small, curious hands clumsily batting at the cool, metallic surface of his dog tags as they dangled against his skin.

“Oh, you like those, hm?” he murmured, leaning back against the headboard as her tiny fingers curled around the cool, jangling plates, flipping them over and over with that intense, baby-like concentration as if trying to decipher the cryptic engravings.

For a moment, he let her fumble with them, her dark, curious eyes narrowing slightly as she brought the cool metal closer to her wide, determined eyes, her tiny, pink tongue peeking out between her gummy lips as she prepared to give them a good, slobbery taste.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckled, gently pulling the chain away from her grasp before she could fit them into her mouth. “Not for the mouth, mija.”

He leaned down, pressing a series of quick, playful kisses to her round, chubby cheeks, making her squeal with delight, her tiny fists batting unsteadily at his face as if already trying to pull him back in for more.

Eventually, he carefully set her back down on the mattress between you, her small, wriggling body sinking into the soft, rumpled sheets as she let out a soft, babbling coo, her tiny, clumsy hands reaching out to pat softly at your bare arm, her dark, curious eyes flicking between the two of you.

You watched as she babbled up at the ceiling, her tiny, chubby cheeks flushed pink with excitement, her little fists waving unsteadily in the air as if trying to grasp the faint, early morning light filtering through the blinds.

“She’s definitely your daughter,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her other cheek, your heart swelling as her dark, curious eyes flicked between the two of you, her tiny mouth working through a series of soft, babbling coos as if already trying to join in on the conversation.

Eventually, Joaquin reluctantly pulled himself from the bed, muttering something about breakfast as he disappeared down the hall, leaving you and your daughter alone in the soft, warm cocoon of the blankets.

When he returned a few minutes later, a tray balanced carefully in his hands, your daughter had begun to fuss, her tiny fists waving unsteadily in the air as she curled instinctively against your chest, her little nose nuzzling into the warm, familiar curve of your breast.

“Oh, somebody’s hungry, too,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft, affectionate smile as he carefully set the tray down on the mattress beside you, leaning in to help you adjust your daughter’s tiny body, his hands warm and steady against your sides as he guided her to your chest.

Joaquin settled in behind you, his bare chest warm and solid against your back, his strong arms wrapping snugly around your waist as you leaned into his embrace, your daughter still nestled comfortably against your chest, her tiny fingers flexing and curling as she nursed, her round, curious eyes flicking between the two of you.

“Look at her, she’s getting so big,” Joaquin whispered, his voice low and full of quiet awe as his lips brushed the soft curve of your jaw. His hand rested gently against your side, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded circles against your hip, his eyes never leaving your daughter’s tiny, perfect face.

You felt a warm, familiar swell of affection bloom in your chest at the soft, reverent tone of his voice, the quiet, unspoken awe that seemed to have settled between the two of you in the months since she’d been born, that deep, unshakable love that seemed to grow with every tiny coo, every toothless smile, every soft, sleepy sigh.

After a moment, Joaquin shifted slightly behind you, his arm slipping away from your waist as he reached over to the breakfast tray he’d set beside you, carefully selecting a small piece of fresh fruit from the colorful array of food he’d prepared.

“Here,” he whispered, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gently brought the piece of fruit to your lips, his thumb brushing softly against the corner of your mouth as you took a small, appreciative bite, the sweet juices bursting across your tongue.

You hummed softly in gratitude, leaning back against his broad, solid chest as he reached for his own plate, his long, graceful fingers carefully plucking a piece of toast from the tray, his eyes still fixed on your daughter as she continued to nurse, her tiny, pink mouth working in that steady, instinctive rhythm, her chubby little hand still patting softly against your skin.

For a few minutes, the two of you shared your breakfast in comfortable, contented silence, Joaquin occasionally leaning in to press soft, lingering kisses to the side of your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin as his free hand drifted back to cradle the small, round curve of your daughter’s head, his thumb brushing gently over the delicate curve of her skull.

Then, as if sensing that the world had shifted back into focus around her, your daughter finally released from your breast, her tiny, perfect face turning slightly to gaze up at you, her dark, curious eyes wide and bright, her tiny, chubby fists flexing and curling. You lift her to your shoulder to burp her.

Joaquin chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin for a long, breathless moment. “Thank you for giving me such a beautiful family.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with that familiar, all-encompassing warmth as you leaned into his touch, your hand drifting up to rest against his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over the rough, stubbled curve of his jaw as you whispered, “I couldn’t do it without you.”

173 notes · View notes