#not sure if anyone is active at this time but !!

[genderqueerdykes]

btw, as someone with hypermobile ehlers-danlos who self-injects HRT, i wanted to take the time to recommend liquid bandage to anyone else with hEDS and any other conditions that cause one to have easily damaged skin!

i use the Walmart brand but it is the same as this one here! they generally contain antiseptic as well, so it helps sterilize the injection site as well! i've included the back of the package to show the active ingredients, make sure you check just to be safe if you have allergies to certain medications. it peels off super easy, i never notice when it comes off, whereas with latex and fabric bandages, it would pull and tear my skin too much, to the point where it would cause bleeding. this does the trick with no pain or skin damage!

[eowynstwin]

Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Hypothermia.

Pairing: Yandere!Winter Spirit x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Hypothermia, Obsessive Behavior, Implied/Mentioned Death, Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Implied Cannibalism.

You’d heard, once, that in its final stages, freezing to death could actually be quite warm.

It was called paradoxical undressing, or something similar enough to warrant the connection. First, you’d be shivering and lost, then rigid and confused, and in the final moments of your life, hypothermia would compel you to spend your last drops of energy stripping yourself of all things good and warming, ridding yourself of any barriers that might’ve saved you from its fatal touch. In the end, you’d die paralyzed, breathless, and worst of all, convinced that you were the warmest you’d ever been. It was a cruel thing to do to anyone, let alone a innocent victim of bad luck. That, or it was supposed to be a kindness, meant to make you feel just a little more at-home as you laid down and accepted what you couldn’t stave off. How you’d take it was something you couldn’t speak for just yet, but you had a feeling that would change soon enough.

So, to reiterate, you’d know you were freezing to death when you started to feel warm. Whether or not it was true, the superstition proved to be a small mercy, because you still felt pretty fucking cold.

You couldn’t feel anything below your knees. Your arms were at least somewhat protected where they were tucked against your chest, half-buried underneath the heavy flannel you’d been able to steal on your way out, but there wasn’t anything you could do about how the snow and ice sunk into the leather of your boots, how the wind seemed to cut through the paper-thin denim of your jeans. A scarf saved your nose and mouth from the worst of the chill, but in the middle of the night, miles and miles and miles away from the nearest streetlamp or flashlight, you couldn’t afford to cover your eyes. It was a miracle that you weren’t crying. You weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to find out if your tears would freeze against your cheeks.

You took another shuffling step forward, and your foot caught on a half-buried tree root, sending you crumbling to the ground. Cold bit into your hands and knees, and you choked out a miserable whine, your dignity abandoned around the time you lost the ability to move your fingers. Not for the first time, you thought about turning back. You could still taste blood on your lips, sure, could still attempt to ignore the ache in your gut where hunger should’ve been, but nothing could’ve been worse than this. At least, next time you tried to run, you could do it during the day, when the cold would be just a little more forgiving. At least, next time, you could save yourself a few hours of trouble and drown yourself in the sink, right next to the other co—

Something flashed across your peripheral – movement, light. You shambled to your feet, snapping in the direction of a dull glow just barely bright enough to cut through the dark of the forest, to prove that there were other people wandering these godforsaken woods at this unholy time of night. You were exhausted beyond sleep, hopeless beyond aid, but still, you forced yourself to stumble around trees and over snowdrifts, to blink away the haziness in your vision and believe that the silhouette of a cabin you could see through the darkness was just that – a cabin. It was a small structure, no more than a couple of rooms, and you couldn’t see any roads or cars, but the windows were lit, and smoke was rising from the chimney, and the snow had been cleared away from the porch, proving that someone was actively taking care of the property. For the first time in hours, you dragged yourself onto something other than endless sleet and for the first time in your life, found yourself thankful to be walking on perfectly solid, perfectly dry earth.

You made it onto the porch before stopping. It was a stupid thing to worry about, really – whether or not some recluse living all alone in the middle of the woods would like you. The roads were closed, iced-over, and you weren’t going to get another chance to find help, but that also meant you weren’t going to find other help. If the cabin’s owner didn’t take kindly to uninvited guests, then you might’ve been better off wandering back into the forest. There were worse things in the world than the cold.

…

Actually, on second thought, there really weren’t. Before you could hesitate again, you brought a fist to the door and knocked stiffly. It swung open in an instant.

You blinked once, then twice, before acknowledging the man standing in the now-open doorway. Saying he looked out of place would’ve been an understatement. Rather than the old, grisly, lumberjack-type you’d been expecting, he almost seemed princely – a little too tall and a little too angular, willowy in a way that made you feel smaller by comparison. His skin was bone-white, like the blood running underneath it was blue rather than red, and his shoulder-length hair was so pale, calling it any shade of blonde wouldn’t have done justice to its absolute lack of color. He was dressed for another season – his white tunic long-sleeved, but thin and open to the navel, and his pants made out of a similarly unsubstantial type of linen. His eyes were the worst part, the same pale blue as open sky or clear water. The color wasn’t damning on its own, but something about the lighting made his pupils seem nonexistent – shades of blue spiraling into themselves indefinitely. You might’ve thought he was blind if his gaze hadn’t been so tangibly fixed on you.

“My love,” he sighed, each word slightly distorted by an accent you couldn’t name. Then, with a slight gasp, “Come in, come in. Ah, poor thing, you’re already half-frozen.”

More than half, but you weren’t in a place to correct him. “…I’m sorry to bother you,” you muttered, letting yourself be swept into the cabin and all-but dropped into an armchair so close to the fireplace, it felt like the flames were licking at your knees. You shuffled that much closer and peeled off your scarf, embarrassed not to have thought to do so before knocking.

While your host fluttered around you, mumbling about hot drinks and meals, you took another stab at explaining yourself. Even if he wasn’t listening, it couldn’t hurt to make yourself seem that much more unfortunate. “I—I’m staying in another cabin a few miles up the mountain. It was me and a few friends, but the snowstorm caught us off-guard, and after losing power—”

“They always seem to,” he cut in, pausing behind you. A quilted blanket was draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it over your chest with no hesitation. “I can’t fathom why. The seasons change at the same time every year.”

You bit back a scowl, not sure whether to feel patronized or offended. “We were waiting for the roads to re-open, but there was an accident, and—”

“And you ran out of food.” Another log was thrown on the fire, sending tendrils of heat crawling up your arms and rooting into your chest. “I should make you some tea, shouldn’t I? Oh, or would you prefer something to eat?”

You should’ve been starving, but the idea of eating alone had you gagging on bile. You dropped your eyes into your lap. “…I’m alright, thank you. Just a little cold.”

There was another sigh, this one more dismissive than the first. You heard light footsteps against old wood, the sound delicate shifting, and then, he was perched on the lip of the fireplace, his chin propped on his fist and his expression wistful in a distant sort of way. Well, as much as you could see of it, anyway. You refused to let your gaze rise above his collarbones. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

The question was playful, accompanied by an airy laugh. This time, you couldn’t swallow your frown. “I’m sorry, but if we’ve met before, I don’t—”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.” He seemed to have a problem with that – coming too quickly, before you were fully prepared to move on. “I think people are still calling me Boreas, but it has been some time since I last checked. I wouldn’t mind if you chose another name.”

“Bor,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “I’m—”

“(Y/n).” You physically recoiled – crowding yourself against the back of your seat. Bor only laughed. “That’s my fault. It’s just—I’ve been so excited to meet you. There aren’t a lot of people who understand each other like we do.”

Huh.

Well, he was crazy, clearly. That was fine. It was still better than freezing to death. Probably.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” he asked, practically grinning. “That’s alright. Winter’s a scary time, and we ought to seek refuge in one another.”

It was a sweet sentiment posed at the worst possible time. Memories of dark rooms and torn blankets flickered across your mind, but you did your best to keep them at bay. “I think I’ve had enough huddling, for a while.”

“Of course, nor would I expect otherwise. You’ll be comfortable here, I promise. We’ll knit, and embroider, and cook – there’s quite a lot of things you can cook over an open fire. It’s a shame most people never get a chance to try it.” He paused, shook his head, as if cutting himself off. “Are you sure I can’t get you something to eat? You must’ve walked an awfully long way.”

The idea of eating was still repulsive, but when you tried to reaffirm your rejection, you couldn’t quite seem to. You were starting to regain feeling in your chest again, and with it, your stomach. With the cold momentarily put aside, emptiness took precedent – exhaustion and thirst and would-be hunger forming a shell of hollowness at your core. You’d have to get out of this cabin at some point, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to give yourself something to burn when you did.

“A cup of tea would be nice.”

Bor beamed. “I’ve already got the kettle on.”

And, just like that, he was gone, swept into another room before you could so much as mention that you preferred cream to sugar. With a deep exhale, you collapsed against the back of your chair, glancing around the cabin’s interior. It was larger than you guessed – the living room alone bigger than the entirety of its exterior would’ve suggested. Your tired eyes glanced over shelves of clutter and knickknacks, tables crowded with well-worn books and half-emptied mugs, chairs and sofas all piled high with pillows and blankets in every shape and color and form you could imagine. It would’ve been homey, under better circumstances. Even now, under circumstances that were very much not better, you found yourself slackening, shifting, closing your eyes for just a touch longer than you should’ve. By the time Bor blustered back in, a teacup in either hand, you were tracing the delicate conch shells carved into either armrest of your seat just to keep yourself awake. He waited patiently for you to pick yourself up, accept the cup, and bring it eagerly to your lips.

The taste was familiar and light – peppermint, or something similarly seasonal. Rather than returning to his post by the hearth, Bor perched himself on the arm of your chair. “Isn’t that better?” And then, before your addled mind could thing to answer, “It must’ve been difficult – being all alone for so long. I’d say I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt, but I had plenty of time to imagine.”

You drained half the cup before managing to drag it far enough away from your mouth to respond. “It was only a few days.”

“Far more than you should’ve had to endure. I was tempted to send you company, but—” His smile took on a bashful lilt. “You wouldn’t have liked it. Maybe later on, if I’m ever forced to leave you on your own again.”

“You make it sound like I’m not going home.”

He was almost too quick to clarify, laughing as he strung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. He was cold as ice, but you let him – too tired to resist. “And we’d never want you to think something like that, would we? I already feel terrible about how long you had to stay away.”

His words were sympathetic, but that was all. You could still make out the crescent moon of his smile, the glee in his voice, the satisfaction in how tightly he held you against him. Bristling, you tried to pull away, but you must’ve spent more of your strength than you realized. As soon as you drew back, a spear of pure cold bit into your arm where his hand was curled around it, then your chest, sending you shrinking and shivering into his side. Bor only hummed, raking his fingers through your hair. “Tired, darling?” You wanted to refuse, to pull yourself together, to leave, but even as you started to shake your head, you knew it just wasn’t possible. Slowly, shakily, you managed to nod, and Bor rewarded you with a ginger kiss to the top of your head. His lips were as cold as his skin. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Walking was a fantasy – as implausible as flying pigs or Christmas in July. You made no effort to protest as Bor gathered you in his arms and, with a surprising amount of strength for his lean form, carried you deeper into the cabin. The passing scenery blurred together, your mind too exhausted and your vision too fogged to hold focus. You only fully processed where he was taking you when you felt your back press into something soft – a bed, one softer and warmer than anything you’d ever felt, before.

It was nice. As if by instinct, your hands found the buttons of your borrowed flannel, fumbling for a moment before a more capable pair took over. Your shoes were done away with next, then your jeans, leaving you in just your oversized undershirt. You wouldn’t have minded if he took that, too. Anything to make you feel a little less overheated.

Eventually, his weight settled next to yours, and with your eyes shut, you curled into him – resting your head in his lap as he rubbed freezing shapes into your back. By some miracle, you found the will to speak, if only in a whisper. “I didn’t hurt anyone. It was an accident.”

“I know. No one would say that you did.”

“It’s what they would’ve wanted. Not all of us had to die.”

“My thoughts exactly. We should take care of each other, shouldn’t we?”

“I don’t want to go home.” You could still taste the iron on your tongue – raw meat tinged with ice-cold ash. “I don’t think I can.”

A chirping laugh filled the bedroom – bright and piercing and as cutting as a cold wind through tender flesh. You forced yourself to open your eyes, and by anything but your own volition, met his. “But, love,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss into your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, then finally, your lips.

In the brief moment before he pulled away, you genuinely believed you would never feel cold again.

“You’re already here.”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

I've been watching random videos on YouTube that keep popping up and the comments and the hate on Lando is so out of proportion, controversial and hypocritical, I saw a comment that he is too active online and was liking hate comments about himself after BrazilGP so I was wondering if you could do a smau where he has a friend that has faced slvtshaming and hate and stayed soft and sweet through all her hard times, and she is always there just grounding him whenever he's too much on his head or isolating himself. Maybe she helps him with his anxiety and makes him see himself through a softer gentle light and she's just really chill and always sees the silver lining, always supports and uplifts everyone and the content that she follows is just girls that go on walks, yoga, reading nooks, shops of handmade stuff like those in cotswolds etc. I don't know if it's too much or uncomfortable for you, but I'd really like to see that if you could. Oh and maybe she's Edinburgh based? Have a nice one! X

peace ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𓍯 ִֶָ ln x reader ᥫ᭡

𓍯 ִֶָ smau + fluff ᥫ᭡

masterlist ☾☼

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 901,573 others

landonorris resetting. thank you for the reminder yourusername

view all 711,900 comments

yourusername Anytime, you big dummy. Did you bring the tea I packed for you? 💨☕ 

user1 y/n's the real MVP. Lando's gonna feel way too zen here! 💙 

user2 We love a supportive friendship. Keep going, mate! Ignore the noise. 🌟

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, lnfour, and 884,012 others

landonorris Not the weekend I hoped for, but we move. Thank you to everyone who sticks by me even on the tough days. 🧡

view all 902,811 comments

user5 Ignore the haters, Lando, you’re doing great!! 💪🏽

user3 How is he liking hate comments about himself? 😒 Weird behavior.

user4 Sometimes people cope in strange ways. Let’s try to give grace. 💛

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, user10, and 7,421 others

yourusername Anxiety feels like a storm, but it passes if you stay grounded. 🕊️ I remind myself that the world is still soft and beautiful.

view all 3,371 comments

user11 This is the energy I need today. Thank you. 🌱✨

landonorris What if I brought my storm to Edinburgh? Would it pass faster? 👀

yourusername Only if you let me ground you.

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 7,005 others

yourusername Grateful moments, little joys, and grounding souls ✨

view all 2,832 comments

user15 Okay, but Lando looks suspiciously calm in that last pic… y/n, teach us your ways! 🖤

landonorris never realised how fun pottery would be! <3

user16 she's literally my inspiration

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 812,003 others

landonorris Found my peace here. 🕊️ Thanks to yourusername for reminding me the world is softer than I think.

view all 712,032 comments

user18 This is the wholesome content we need. 🧡

yourusername Storms don’t scare me anymore. 😉

landonorris You’re braver than I am.

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hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm not sure if i love this personally, because i don't think i did this justice, but i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[starrieangel]

🎄❤️Mouthwashing Crew on Christmas💚🎁

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday ♡ Here's my present to you all: more headcanons!!

Features: Curly x Reader, Anya x Reader, Daisuke x Reader, Jimmy x Reader

rb's appreciated! 💚❤️

Curly☃️

I think Curly would love surprising you..!

He's up before you, already has the coffee (or hot chocolate or tea) ready for you when you wake up. 

When you finally get out of bed, there's extra presents under the tree, and the tree is even more festive and beautiful than how you left it!!

(Is Curly Santa..??)

He's not materialistic in the slightest, but a good gift means a lot to Curly if it shows you put a lot of thought into it..! It makes him feel special that you are thinking about him ^u^

He's a good gift giver, but bad at wrapping them XD He's trying his best ok !!!

After opening presents, you guys cuddle and watch your favorite goofy christmas movie while cuddled up in your new sweaters/socks/blankets :)

His favorite part of Christmas is Christmas dinner tho, and you guys whip up a big feast and invite all your friends and family !!! 

He’s the classic “my boyfriend only cooks meat” stereotype, like he cant cook but he will fuck up a christmas ham or a thanksgiving turkey or a barbecue.. let him cook fr

Bonus: Curly is definitely the Santa at the office Christmas party..!! Maybe you get to sit on Santa's lap ;D 

Anya❄️

Panicking because she's bad at getting gifts..!! 

She gets to the store and.. oh no there's too many choices

“I'm not sure what candy Y/N likes... I'll just get one of each.. oh dear..”

She would try making handmade gifts like sewing or knitting or crochet but she doesn't get them done til the last minute...

She dang near cries when you see the itchy, raggedy sweater she made you and you beam at her “I love it!!!” and you do! because she made it ♡

I feel like she likes peppermints and candy canes... just her vibe

You two make a gingerbread house together !!

Yes it falls apart a little, but it doesn't matter because you both had so much fun making it :) (and decorating it with all that candy she bought !!)

Bonus: She is a based eggnog drinker. And maybe she does spike her and Daisuke's eggnog at the office Christmas party ;D

Daisuke🎁

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party Winner 3 years in a row

(I like the popular headcannon that Daisuke likes thrifting, so) He loves going to the thrift to find ugly christmas sweaters (so you can match) and even finding cool antiques/retro items to give as gifts!

Always gives at least one prank gift, but otherwise he is pretty thoughtful! 

He doesn't get you a present unless it really reminds him of you! I feel like he gifts thrifted vinyls and jewelry, secondhand designer, like his gifts are honestly peak and they're always perfect for you

He's in charge of the Christmas party!! and he's committed to packing as many christmas themed activities into it as possible

Dedicated Christmas Movie Showing, gotta watch all the classics!

Hot chocolate bar, christmas cookie buffet, pin the nose on the reindeer, ALL OF IT 

Strategically ties mistletoe to ensure highest occurrence of Kissing You ;3 “Uh, oh, Y/N! Looks like we're caught under the mistletoe.. again! How unlucky.. guess we'll have to.. you knowww..” >:3c

Bonus: He would get tipsy at the office christmas party and would try to hug you or kiss you the whole time, and you’re like “plz ur embarrassing me”

Jimmy🎄

Jimmy is actually really good at getting gifts. Like, really good. Like, you mentioned this thing in passing 6 months ago, and he either remembered it or bought it for you and hid it for 6 months. He knows exactly what to get you!

He's not really a huge fan of the holidays

That being said: He enforces Mistletoe rules like it's his job

Everyone thinks he's a grinch, so he doesn't usually get the best presents from others. It doesn't help that he never makes a christmas list or tell anyone what he wants 

(mostly because he doesn't want to be disappointed when he asks for something and doesn't get it, or he's afraid to ask for something “dorky” that he actually really wants)

When you ask him what he wants for christmas, he just kind of shrugs and says he'll like whatever you get him

So it's extra special when you return the favor and get him a gift just as thoughtful as he gave you :) You get him the video game or album or band tee (idk what men like) that he offhandedly mentioned weeks ago :) He can't hold in his surprise that you remembered!

“Woah, babe! I can't believe you remembered.. This is perfect, thank you baby” And then he wraps you into a tight hug!

Bonus: Yea, Jimmy had to fill in as Santa one year when Curly was busy/sick....... He made a kid cry.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the replies what you think, send an ask if you have a request, and rb if u liked! Thanks for reading!💚❤️

Merry Christmas!! ☃️💚🎄❤️❄️❤️🎄💚🎁☃️❄️❤️❄️❤️🎄💚

[pickinglilahs]

Okay, let's unpack this response here

TL;DR: 'weak and surface' level is exactly how I would describe prevs "obliteration". I'm not convinced THEY read the books. Or maybe they're just another TERF, considering that's how it reads. I completely disagree with Harry naming his kid after Snape. The ONLY explanation I can think for it is that JKR has no idea what love is (which is also cannon, as far as I'm concerned)

First: idk what book this person read, but Snape's obsession with Lily was creepy to the extreme. That their friendship started by him all but stalking her and Petunia should have been red flag #1. I mean, sure, he was a traumatized kid without friends, but that doesn't absolve him of his continued obsession. He literally stood outside the Gryffindor common room, refusing to leave, until she came out to talk.

And yeah, he did switch sides out of guilt. But he canonically didn't give a damn about Harry. If he was actually trying to protect the kid, he would have done more than bully and abuse (occlumency lessons anyone?) the kid. Teaching at Hogwarts was never about redemption. It was about staying out of Azkaban. (And Dumbledore's manipulation, but he's a whole 'nother can of worms)

Second: the books actually say that Snape was 'up to his nose in the dark arts'. He was an active participant. He didn't just 'hang out' with to-be-DE, he WAS one. He joined up of his own free will. He became Voldemort's RIGHT HAND. He didn't regret calling someone a mudbl***. He regretted that it was Lily.

And Snape CANONICALLY attacked the marauders just as much as they went after him. Just because they went after him first in that ONE memory, doesn't mean he didn't instigate too.

And let's talk about the werewolf incident for a minute because i am sick and tired of Snape Apologists using this as an excuse. That was NOT planned. That was a lapse of judgement on Sirius' part alone (yeah, fucked to hell and he is fully responsible for that). At the same time though, NO ONE MADE HIM GO. Snape was given a vague instruction and he was so focused on 'getting back' at the marauders that he put HIMSELF in danger. That is just as much on him as it is on Sirius.

Then the sexual assault? This is another common thing I see and it took me forever to figure out what it was even referring to. The pantsing? You cannot tell me he was the only one that happened to. If the levitating spell was really as popular as it's stated, this incident wasn't special. I'm willing to bet Snape did it to others too.

Third: Lupin not taking the wolfsbane. Yes, serious lapse in judgement. He also just saw Peter and Sirius on the map. The argument of it being criminal and a ticking time bomb is honestly werewolf prejudice and exactly why Remus has such a hard time finding a job in the first place. Way to go. You've discovered discrimination.

Fourth: Get McGonagall's name out of your fucking mouth. She is CANONICALLY shown NOT showing prejudice and treating EVERYONE by the same standards. And, did you forget that 'Moody' here was actually a death eater in disguise? No duh he's using cruel and unusual punishments??? Full of abusive teachers my ass.

Fifth: What do you mean the kids weren't scared for life? I do believe those CHILDREN will carry that trauma with them for the rest of their lives. Saying that it didn't break them is cruel and completely dismisses the VERY REAL pain and suffering that they went through. They are real heroes because they OVERCAME their trials. Not all of us out here in the real world are so lucky.

Lastly: yes, comparing CHILDREN who DID see the error of their ways to an ADULT who had to be CONNED into doing the right thing is laughable.

And saying Regulus accomplished nothing? Disgraceful. Of course it took a catalyst for him to change his ways thats how redemption arcs work.

If you made it this far, I hope you have a good day. Believe whatever you want, obvy I'm not going to change anyone's opinion. You can't MAKE a person understand. Still, it's nice to rant and remind myself how nice it is that I live in my own little corner of the fandom where I don't have to see this bullshit on my dash

okay, hold my drink *hands u cursed ancient goblet full of mead* i gotta talk my shit for a second.

ive been seeing a lot of severus snape love recently. and this is fine, obviously, y'all can love whomever you want. but. i need to rant or i will explode. if we're talking about canon. severus snape spends his adult years, seven books of it in fact, abusing children. and his excuse for this is the girl he loved (tho not enough not to join a group actively trying to exterminate her) fell for the hot jock instead of him (a tragedy indeed, i weep 4 him, i really do). and also she died, which, admittedly is very sad.

it is simply crazy 2 me 2 look at that and think *romance* or *genuine care and affection*. LIKE. fo real. snape calls her a slur in public, apologizes in private, hangs out with dudes who commit hate crimes against her friends (CANONICALLY, she says "you've been hanging out with that douchebag Mulciber, how could you do that after what he did to Mary???" this is not a direct quote but like, it's close enough). lame. loser behaviour.

"Oh but what about regulus" i can hear you say "he loves James potter but snape doesn't love lily???" well. idk. maybe. bit different tho, innit? due to james not being the demographic regulus is attacking (which doesn't make regulus a better person but does make the dynamic between him and james different). ALSO. Regulus chooses to turn against voldemort without hope for anything in return. snape doesn't seem to give a shit about voldemort, he's just sad he's not gonna get to bang lily evans. he switches sides for that reason alone. also doesn't care about what happens to her husband or her son which like. considering lily would be pretty fucking destroyed if they died. once again points to my whole, he doesn't really give a shit about her, theory. lame. loser. behaviour.

also. im sorry. I"M SORRY. but what snape does to neville? to hermione? to harry? gross. a grown ass man out here telling an eleven year old neville he's worthless or hermione she's ugly and annoying. or spilling harry's potion and refusing to grade him for it???????????????

reg and draco are children when we see them at peak suckage and therefore they feel like they can be redeemed much more compellingly (CAN be, not SHOULD be, not HAVE to be, just narratively i think they are easier to turn into interesting, sympathetic characters). but snape? snape grows up into a garbage adult. like he doesn't get better. and again, the only real excuse we're given is his obsession with lily. not very demure. not very cutesy.

ALSO. yall remember that time he got a destitute, struggling Remus Lupin fired from the best job he ever had just because he felt like it? remember that time snape weaponized Remus's lycanthropy and people's prejudice against him just cause. like. literally just cause??? his ego was bruised after the shrieking shack incident so he was like "get wrecked Lupin I'm going to tell everyone your secret so you will be forced back out onto the streets" DO YALL REMEMBER THAT BITCH ASS MOVE????????? THAT HE DID AS A FULL ADULT.

IN CONCLUSION, this is silly and, of course, like i said at the start, everyone can have their own thoughts and feelings about characters, but i simply needed to interject here on behalf of snape haters everywhere because i feel like so much of snape's shitty behaviour as an adult during a time when he was really under no duress and was very safe and cozy, is ignored. and my hater heart just cannot let that stand.

[bluerasbunny]

My go to request: Unhinged Sun

Lol. Or unhinged anyone really. Just make 'em fucked up.

OH BOY TIME TO SHARE MY ROLESWAP AU

the ultimate sunhinged!! infodump on AU below the cut;

sun isnt obsessed with playing or games- he's obsessed with perfection. everyone in the daycare must be doing exactly what sun says, and they must be doing it PERFECTLY or it'll drive him up the wall with frustration and rage, because how are you messing up such a simple task? it only has 5 extremely complex steps you have to do exactly as he shew you, it's not rocket science! as an example; the in game mechanic would be something like the player having to do arts and crafts with sun, but you have to do it EXACTLY correct in a short time frame or else sun's patience will run out and he'll attack!! sun gets increasingly more aggressive the longer you take, and immediately attacks if you get something wrong!! things like that!! the Entire daycare zone has been closed off ever since the incident. sun's never been known to be so aggressive, especially not with something as trivial as coloring barely an inch outside of the lines or cutting paper just one degree off of his demanded angle. pizzaplex staff have no clue what's wrong with him and they can't get close enough to see if anythings wrong without sun yanking them into an activity that Definitely ends in someone getting hurt!! so. the best thing to do is close it down.

moon is acting perfectly as intended, though! a soft-spoken, gentle animatronic with an edge of sillyness that just wants the best for the children under his care. he has NO idea what's wrong with sun either, and the employees that have managed to get a discussion with moon have learned as much from moon himself (they've also learned that moon can no longer communicate with sun. there's nothing but static). moon also has his own problems to be completely fair- just as in your personal space as sun, though in a more overbearing parent type of way!! he cares in a way that he's constantly fretting over people to the point that it's Too Much (humans are so fragile. he's seen it with his own eyes, from sun's aggression. he Has to make sure the fragile ones are okay and safe).

[thankyoudanielfest]

Thank you, Daniel! Fest – Second wave roundup post.

Here is the first wave roundup post.

With this, we'd like to wrap up Thank you, Daniel! Fest. As promised, a roundup of more incredible works made by even more incredible people!

Fics:

Google Translate What Does This Mean? by @ararararo

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 1,5k words (chapter 1/2)

Google Translate couldn't possibly be lying to him but Max couldn't possibly be lying to him either. There's no way his younger teammate has been teaching him to how to say 'Impregnate Me' and 'Cum in Me' in Dutch, made him repeat it every time they were together under false pretence that they were confidence boosting sentences. It must be Google Translate that's lying to him, because his Maxy could never... right?

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The Final Part in the Unlimited Kiss Coupon Universe by @saapphicx

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 1.7k words (complete)

The season is over and Daniel is home for Christmas. But he’s not alone. Max has made good on the offer Daniel gave him, and has packed himself up to the farm for the winter break. Maybe it’s time for Daniel to finally get what he’s wanted since the first day he received that coupon. Maybe it’s time for him to be brave.

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Feeling like I'm on a Hook by @naanima

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 12k words (complete)

He knew he should talk this out with Blake, contact his lawyers, and make sure the rest of his team wasn't asking questions they shouldn't. But he couldn't, because the first thing you learned as a rookie on a F1 team was that you don't fucking ever talk about the free use clause with anyone that wasn't your team principal, the head of HR of your team, and the two FIA representatives - the medical specialist and the monitor who inspected both drivers after each “incident” on FIA premise. And of course the other party involved in the free use clause. Agents were viewed with disdain. (The free use clause is activated in Daniel's contract post Singapore).

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Ain’t That Kind of Movie by @annebd

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 2k words (chapter 1/2)

Daniel is the two-time World Drivers' Champion, and at the FIA Awards ceremony, he meets Max, who is charming and funny and gorgeous. And an escort.

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surrender my heart by @f1thememp3

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 1.9k words (chapter 1/4)

There weren’t any subs in formula 1. not for a long time, and at least not publicly. Statistically speaking there were likely quite a few somewhere along the line, but the general perception that subs were far too fragile to handle the demands of the sport kept them fully in the dark. You either fit the mold or got out of the car.

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Last by @flawlessassholes

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 3.8k words (complete)

Ten years after Max's first time is Daniel's last.

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Love Blind by @mvlionheart

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 3,2k words (chapter 1/12)

“What are we going to do?” Danny ventures asking, voice a thinly veiled attempt at composure. This was their moment, it was all coming together. The years of hard work, the pay-out just around the corner. He couldn’t stomach thinking about letting everything slip through their fingers. “Open auditions?” Noah replies. OR When Danny's band Enchanté loses their drummer right before a big show, they have to find a last-minute replacement. It's a good thing the bass player's sister knows a guy. It's a bad thing, for Danny at least, that the guy is a hot, young, drum prodigy who really knows how to work his sticks.

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Stranded by @mvpanda1

Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, 5,8k words (complete)

Daniel is having the time of his life. Shining sun, clear calm waters, a yacht full of the best friends a guy could ask for, and the love of his life. Max. It’s hard to believe they are here together now. Out in the open. No longer sneaking into empty rooms or dark corners. They have been inseparable the entire trip—two becoming one in every way possible. His friends don’t care, they’re just happy Daniel finally feels comfortable enough to be himself. OR Daniel is having the time of his life until he isn't.

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Edits and creations:

enjoy the butterflies by @thebirdsareafterme

Daniel and butterflies piece by @avida-heidia-5

Cute Daniel edit by @mango-yoyo

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Please show some love to everyone who participated! All of the people above have done an incredible job. This wouldn't be possible without each and every one of you who participated and we cannot thank you enough for dedicating time to show some love towards Daniel.

Right now, we're giving you all a big, warm hug... but do keep an eye out for something perhaps coming in January ;)

with love, mods <3

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Jeff, Helen, and Liu with a partner who likes leaving obvious lip prints on their face a from kisses? Or just "tests" what the lipstick shade might be by putting it on and kissing them afterwards?

This is so cute, thank you-

Jeff:

Our sweet, baby boy Jeff, does not realize what you're doing at first. After he gets dressed and ready in the mornings he doesn't really ever look into mirrors, so the first few times you intentionally leave lipstick kisses on his face he doesn't even realize they're there. It's highly possible he smeared some of them all over his face without realizing it, and he only noticed when someone pointed it out, or when he saw the lipstick all over the side of his hand. After this happens a couple of times (and you have a few facepalm moments), Jeff finally realizes what you're doing, and he LOVES IT! Jeff is 100% for "claiming territory", and he usually does so with you by things like letting you wear all his hoodies (not that he had to encourage that in the first place), or leaving some hickeys on you (when you allow him), or even matching couples bracelets, anything to show you're his. So, when you continue leaving your lipstick kisses on his face, he feels incredibly excited about it, often feeling very smug whenever it gets pointed out by anyone. Even if he can't really feel it on his face at all, it makes him feel so special that you love him so much you'd do something that cute to him. He's also totally for you "testing" colors on him (even if you already know what they look like and you're just looking for more excuses to do that to him), and he'll even roll up his sleeves and offer up more skin for you, so you could hypothetically just cover his arms too if you wanted. This man will do literally anything to get your lips on his skin, and it's incredibly obvious, but it's not like you're gonna refuse him, so he doesn't even care that it's so noticeable.

Helen:

Helen knows what you're trying to do immediately before your painted lips even touch his skin for the first time, but you know what? You're cute and he loves you, so he'll allow it. I will say, that Helen does not like attention being on him, and he gets pretty anxious a lot even if he doesn't show it, so there will definitely be times when he doesn't want you doing that, but there will also still be plenty of times where he's fine with it. Just make sure you ask him for permission first, instead of trying to do it sneakily, and you'll be fine. I also have this cute idea that, as an artist, Helen might offer to do your lipstick for you in pretty ways (designs, gradients, just really cool color mashups), before you kiss him with it so that you can leave really unique kisses on his skin. As he says, if you're gonna do it, it may as well look fashionable and artistic when you do so. If you're actually actively testing lipstick on him, he'd prefer you leave those kisses on his hands or arms, rather than his face, but if you're fake testing lipstick and you already know what it looks like, feel free to leave a smooch on his cheeks. I feel like with his really defined cheekbones Helen would look really good with a kiss on the top of his cheekbones, so that should definitely be your main target. He always looks incredibly good with your kisses placed there (especially with his knack for modeling, and when he does your lipstick in a beautiful way beforehand), so it feels a little unfair, and like Jeff, he feels pretty smug, just for different reasons. He really does grow to love it, he just won't admit to it. (He begins offering his cheeks to you in the mornings, but shhhhh.)

Liu:

Liu will absolutely tease you for doing this, as he thinks it's very silly. You'll beckon him to bend down a little, before pressing a nice, thorough kiss to his cheeks, and he'll hum and pretend he doesn't know what you did, before looking in a mirror and gasping very dramatically. He'll put his hands on his hips and teasingly shake his head, saying he can't believe you'd do that to him. He does this very regularly, and he never gets tired of it. Liu thinks it's really cute that you'd like to leave kiss marks on his face, and he always peppers your face in little kisses afterward and ruffles your hair. Some mornings if he's feeling particularly silly, he'll ask to borrow your lipstick, and he'll artfully place his own lipstick kiss in the same place on you that you left one on him. He'll remove the lipstick from his lips after, but he argues if you're gonna leave one on him, he may as well leave one on you, too. He probably starts buying you lipsticks, especially in pretty colors, or colors he happens to be fond of, in a subtle way of hinting at you that you should continue what you're doing in the new colors (it's not as subtle as he thinks it is, it is in fact very obvious). He probably buys you a couple of shades at a time, so that literally encourages you to test them all on his skin. You could cover his face in a whole bunch of different colored kisses, and he might look ridiculous, but he wears them so casually that it doesn't even feel out of place. It becomes such a common occurrence that sometimes if you don't leave a little kiss on him he might act a little sad and tease you for it, only because he's become so fond of the little ritual the two of you have going on.

[soleilestrela]

tr!tina and tr!bbh relationship (tr!somniaduo) is already so special to me:

tr!bbh is VERY hostile and has his weapons and stuff out at all times. hes always ready for a fight, even with his allies. he has even predicted an ally betraying him. there is no one on the server he mainly kept weapons off for. Except tr!tina. with tina, he only held food or 'his toys' as she put it (his totems). you could say its because he thinks she isnt a threat, but that just isnt true tbh, he holds out weapons for everyone, even people he views/underestimates to be weaker, example being tr!ros. he thinks he could still beat her, yet he keeps his weapons out for her. He also is very paranoid as he said to Chip (due to QSMP) he only hit her once when trying to fire and ender arrow, and since his bow has flame, she got set on fire. he quickly placed water and didnt get out his bow i think for the rest of the time.

Not to mention he is just flat out honest to her in ways he isnt with ANYONE. with her, he told the full truth on the foolish situation. no lies, no deception, no twists, just flat out how it went. he also offered to give her the will, which i dont think he did to anyone else except his allies. He even called foolish a good king, something he probably wouldnt admit even at gunpoint.

Furthermore, he very insistently gave her stuff. Early into her joining, she refused to take armor/weapons from him when he attempted to flat out give it to her, so he created a treasure hunt so she could more feel she earnt it. he also gave her stuff like food with no hesitation, and im pretty sure made a qsmp reference of her always taking stuff from him/him always giving her stuff. he shows a side to specifically her that is much more gentle and caring then how he is to anyone, and makes it very obvious that he cares for her, and is shown protective to her many times.

Finally, tr!bbh actively tried to push her from joining a faction. i think he doesnt want her trapped in conflict she doesnt understand, and also wants her to just relax and not be attacked. he even pushed her away from hostile faction, giving reasons why purple (Factionless) was so much better.

p.s. i discussed this w some friends before even making this analysis and some of their points are here so credits to Jey and Tincan for some of the points here :DD

p.p.s. this is likely just me being delusional if im being real bc im obsessed w somniaduo in every universe so if this doesnt make sense thats why

[newkatzkafe2023]

ooooooo I love Pucca and Garu!

So if the Monkey Queens are Pucca that meets Garu!male y/n type of dynamic?

Oh imagine the living hell male y/n has to go through to run across the world to avoid Monkey Queens affection lmao 🤣

Poor ninja boi just wanna go fishing and do his training lol

The crazy thing is, this is not farfetched😅

(Lmk Wukong) She thought you were an adorable and hot ninja monkey, and she couldn't control herself. Whenever your out training your abilities she would come by and give you googoo eyes, at you and your back muscles licking her lips. Wukong would actively stalk you for your love and attention, making sure to tease you as much as you do to her. Though It doesn't take long before you both end up bed🫢.

(NR Wukong) SHE IS THE QUEEN OF CLINGY, the day she saw you her whole world wasn't as grey. Knowing how she had once gave up on the modern world until she met you, seeing you training hard and so Discipline. Wukong's eyes had hearts in them and she purred softly as she gets an eye full of your lean muscles wanting more of you. You saw her everywhere you go, a party, at the mall, even very invasive places like a bathroom stall🫢 You tried to enjoy your fishing hobby one day, but instead of a fish instead you pull out a half naked female monkey. Their no getting rid of her😑

(HIB Wukong) She loves to value her personal space more than anyone, so she wouldn't be too much of a problem. She turned out to have a good amount of self control, until she got a good look at you. You made her so thirsty for you upon seeing your handsome face and lean body like yes, please make sure to spoil her nicely. Don't overthink it to much when you both get naked and alone🔞.

(MKR Wukong) Now the only time she would ever get clingy and invasion, if she was to get jealous and possessive. Though it's easy to tame those Instincts of hers, with just a bunch of hot make out sessions. Like seriously your hold her leg up to your thigh as you both went at it, it'll be easy to tame her just a bit. Until she gets greedy and she can't get enough of you, now she's chasing you down to the ends of the earth just to taste your tongue again....👅

(Netflix Wukong) You know what's crazy you actually don't mind Wukong running to you for love and affection. You both would have secrets Rendezvous when she gets lonely in the evenings. Make out sessions become a Frequent must memorizing the perfect buttons to push, while your tongue ends up down her throat. If anything she should be running from you, that is if she can😉

(BMW Wukong) Yeah personal space yeah, she don't know her😒 Where ever you run to, where ever you hide Wukong will find you and demand for your affection. She also would steal kisses like nobody's business, and what worse is that she'll come out of nowhere taking what she wants. Though you make to return it tenfold as a thank you for scarying away the fish😈

(Destined one) Now At she knows to give you your personal space, but she quickly gets lonely. She would immediately go to find you as she wants your attention and Cuddles. Which your more then happy to grant, with moments like these you both get very Intimate with each other, and let's just say she'll see nothing but hearts when your ninja claws are done with her😍

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[hanjisungslag]

christmas party with attack on titan characters 🧣 modern! au

the annual christmas work party is just around the corner & you and your partner need to bring something to this work party whether it be food, gifts or an activity for everyone to do - you’ve all got to bring something! the only question is.. what?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

you and eren jaeger could not figure out what to bring to this work party for the LIFE of you. you guys were the last ones figuring your shit out and everything you thought of, that was relatively fun, had been taken already. what were you guys gonna do?!

but then suddenly.. eren remembered how you guys had ice skating booked for the next day, after the chrismtas party, although it was meant to be for hits the two of you, you were running out of options.

you both sat in silence, scraping your brains for any good ideas and that’s when eren breaks the silence.

“hey, y/n..” he looked at you mischievously

you raised an eyebrow at his expression “oh god, what now?”

“you know how we’re going ice skating tomorrow?”

your jaw dropped, “BUT ERENNN” you pouted “that’s supposed to be our day outtt, ughhhh”

“ITS OUR ONLY OPTION, Y/N” he yelled dramatically

you sighed deeply “i suppose you’re right. god”

“imagine everyone trying to ice skate while hungover though.” eren said lightening the mood

you burst out laughing “OH MY GOD. they’re all gonna be wrecks!”

so you guys called up the ice skating rink and asked for an extra ELEVEN.. people to be added onto your time slot, safe to say the workers were in shock and horror when you said that but, it was all booked now!

eventually when the party rolled around and it was your guys’ turn to say or bring out your surprise, you both looked at each other and blurted “WE’RE GOING ICE SKATING!” some reactions were better than others.. aha. sasha and connie were supperrr excited and reiner was so confident that he’d be great at it. levi.. erm. he’ll go on! he just needs a little push (quite literally).

“right. mikasa.” you looked at her dead in the eyes,

“what activity should we do at the party?”

“we’re doing an activity?” she questioned

“yes! why not? it’s probably easier to think of one rather than bring something.” you said.

“should we just search something up..?” she asked

“yeah, honestly, good idea!” you pull out your phone and get googling.

you both sat in silence as you scrolled.

mikasa looked at you and asked, “christmas charades?”

your face lit up and you giggled, “YES! oh my god, yes.”

you gasped and jumped out of your chair “i just thought of the BEST IDEA!!”

“we should write down a bunch of christmas themed charades, put them in a hat and then it’s completely random!”

mikasa smiles widely “hahaha, oh my god, y/n- you’re a genius!”

your guys’ idea was a HOOT at the party. it was super fun and everyone got so competitive, so fast. (connie ended up winning btw)

you and armin already had this planned out for a while, you knew about this months ago and wanted to prepare something really nice for everyone to do :).

you bought paints, accessories and many chrismtas baubles for everyone to decorate!! you made sure to buy extras in case anyone wanted to do a few for themselves, for the others or family.

as you laid out all the equipment on the table, you heard awe’s and sweet cheers from everyone,

“guys!! this is sooo precious” historia said as she pouted from the cuteness of such an idea.

you chuckled “oh, it’s nothing really. thank armin not me, anyways, he came up with the whole thing.”

armin strolled out as you said that “no no,” he waved his finger around “no time for saying who said what, let’s get decorating!!”

he was the most excited about his own idea, bless. safe to say, he made the most beautiful christmas bauble anyone had laid eyes on, the same cannot be said for reiner, annie or levi aha… art is not their strong point.

what’s something that you can make with your co workers but eat afterwards? gingerbread houses. OBVIOUSLY you and sasha brought this! it was her idea, of course, and everyone ate this tf up!! it also may have slightly turned into a competition..

you guys were strolling through your local super market, doing your usual rounds of grocery shopping etc. but you made sure to keep an eye out for anything you can bring to the work party later that month.

you two usually split and meet up in some random aisle and when you did, sasha was holding a gingerbread house.

“pleeassseee can we get it, y/n?!” she begged as she squeezed the box tightly

“it would be super cute and coupley of us!” she fluttered her eyelashes.

you stare at her, god those fluttering eyelashes get you every time😡!

“okay fine! those dammed eyelashes of yours.”

“YIPPEEEE” she cheered but then, that’s when it hit you.

“babe…” you said ominously

“what?” sasha asked, confused

“buy another like 10 of those boxes”

“TEN?! REALLY? i thought that was overboard but, im so glad you agree—”

“NOT FOR US GIRL.”

at the actual party, everyone turned into a huge competition. houses were built poorly, amazingly or they were smashed by competitors *cough, cough* eren, jean and connie.. but, reiner ended up ‘winning’ because his gingerbread house was the only one left standing. what can i say, the mans good at defending.

now, although it was a christmas work party, you had this incredible idea of bringing the karaoke machine you got connie for his birthday a couple years back.

you drag the karaoke machine across the carpet of your apartment harrowingly as connie sits on the couch and watches with an eyebrow raised.

eventually, when you’re done struggling, you slap the top of it and say,

“this is what we’re bringing to the christmas party.”

connie’s eyes light up.

“REALLY??” he jumps off from the couch, grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you aggressively.

“THATS AN INCREDIBLE IDEA!” he jumps up and down like an excited child on christmas. you giggle and smile at his adorable-ness🥲.

it was literally the perfect thing. LET ME TELL YOU! everyone LOOVVEEDD it. especially when you all got drunk, everyone would be standing up, dancing, singing along to all these christmas songs while very drunk on wine. the drunk singing duets were impeccable, safe to say you’ll be seeing those in the work group chat in the morning.

my man, jean knows his goddamn wine. so you best believe he went out and bought the most scrumptious wine everrr.

“let’s hear it, what’ve you got?” you say, intrigued by why he’s been out for so long.

“okay so.” he begins and claps his hand together, “everyone is bringing boring ol’ drinks like beer” he gags slightly at the word of it, “vodka, cider and whatever. but, i’ve got some incredible stuff” that’s when he whips out a huge bag full of wine.

“i got wine. and not just any wine, THE best!”

your jaw drops “that’s a lot of wine, babe.”

“i know but, it’ll be kinda like a game, people can try different wines see which one they like best, maybe do a guessing game of which is most expensive”

you think about it for a minute then, you look proudly at him, “honestly, you’re so smart.. THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT”

you guys high five in celebration.

everyone loved the wine and you did play loads of guessing games (jean excluded at some points because goddamn that boy knows his wine) and jean was showered in compliments for his impeccable taste in wine and partners ;).

reiner had this idea for a while, to be honest, he knew a few co workers who were bringing their kids only for the first half while everyone was still sober and what not so, what better thing to do than dress up as santa?! the kids get to meet santa claus and the whole work place gets a laugh out of reiner literally being dressed up as st. nick himself.

you knew this was reiners idea of an ‘activity’ but you hadn’t got a chance to see him in the full get up yet and just as you were about to leave, he was putting on the costume.

as you wait outside the bedroom door, you hear it creak.. the door slowly opens and out comes reiner claus. oh my god. you burst out laughing at the sight of your boyfriend in a SANTA COSTUME, beard and all😭.

“ohhh, this is gonna be a goooddd party.” you say wiping away your tears.

“what?! do you not like it?” reiner says as he starts posing.

you grab onto his arm while you’re kneeling over, grabbing your stomach with other arm.

“pleas— stop it.” you laughed so hard, you couldn’t breathe.

after you had your laughing fit, you guys were off to the party! everyone ATE UP this santa outfit. the kids loved having santa at their parents boring old work party and after the kids left, the drunk adults LOVED IT.

everyone was sitting on his lap taking photos, asking him what they wanted for christmas. but, this wasn’t even the best part. reiner whipped out something for levi……

a fucking elf costume.

the whole party burst out into laughter and tears when they saw what he had but levi.. did not take this lightly. this little joke went up in FLAMES.

levi started chasing reiner around the whole place whacking him with his own santa beard anddd next week, reiner definitely got given a lot more work to do😊.

bert does a little photography on the side here and there and what better way to practice than with all your co workers? so, he brings this very professional photography camera just to take the silliest and goofiest photos of everyone😭.

everyone lines the flip up to get their photos taken, they all thought it was a super fun and cute idea from bert. he take candid photos, ones with silly props and most importantly ones of everyone sitting on santa (reiner)’s lap!

bert really loved taking candid photos of everyone having a good time, playing games and chit chatting - he’s definitely the type of guy to shed a tear at a wholesome candid he just took. but, one thing that was so frustrating was connie and sasha would not STOP pestering him😭.

they wanted pictures of the dumbest things, literally anything they thought was somewhat worthy of a photo they were like “bert! bert! get a picture of this” while he was in the middle of taking pictures for eren and the gang like… he really felt like a tired father in these moments.

mostly importantly… the drunk candids WENT CRAZYY. even when this man is off his rocker, he still took some incredible pictures and some… not so incredible.. maybe even blurry and slightly shit photos but, you just know they’re the best ones.

annie whipped out the BIG GUNS for this. she whipped out her most precious collection aka her christmas film collection - she has been collecting since she was a teenage and has never stopped and what better time to whip them out than at a christmas party?!

now, annie keeps this collection that’s very near and dear to her heart, a secret. it’s a silly tradition her dad started where every christmas, annie would pick out a new film for them to watch and seeing as the options to what you could bring to the christmas party were limited… this was her last option.

everyone was so surprised that annie had this strange but also very cute hobby. everyone loved it! the movies were being played on rotate, one after another, in a more quiet room for when people just wanted to chill out and a watch a film! at one point as well, everyone gathered in there to watch a film together and although it took about 30 minutes of discussion to decide what film everyone wanted to watch, it was so worth it because it truly felt like everyone was a family.

annie stood by the door as she watched reiner and bertolt,

“what you doing, annie?” you creep a hand on her shoulder

she jumps “w-what?”

“are you watching reiner and bert?” you question her

“well…” she smiles warmly “it’s just nice to see.”

then you burst into giggles, glitter and sunshine because she’s so cute when she turns sweet.

oh what’s that? everyone is feeling parched and wants a hot, sweet treat?? well levi ackerman has got you covered! you have nooo idea what kind of shit this man puts in the hot coco he makes but it’s SOO good & with marshmallows? holy fucking shit.

you guys build your own little lemonade stand but, obviously make it hot coco. AND LET ME TELL YOU… if you guys had charged for this stuff, you could’ve retired early because everyone was looovinngg it. levi has truly mastered the art that is making hot chocolate.

obviously, everyone was absolutely obsessed with this hot chocolate and some lactose intolerant people (armin) even decided to ignore their intolerance just because levi’s stuff was soo good. although, safe to say i’m sure he regretted ignoring this vital part of his life. anyways, you did try to get levi into a cute barista outfit… but he said no. (😔)

“absolutely not.” levi said with his arms crossed

you stood with the barista costume in hand, disheartened by his response.

“but, levi it adds to the whole thing—”

“nope. i am not a barista, i am there to just make my spectacular hot chocolate.” there was no way you are getting him into the costume, i fear.

little did this poor man know, you trying to get him into a barista costume was not the last time someone tried to get him into a costume that day.

we got a chef in the house and his name is erwin smith. obviously being the manager of your workplace, he had to bring something goooddd so he brought his good ass food.

he wanted to do something else, something better since in his words, his food ‘isn’t that good’ - a good cook and humble😩. however, you begged and PLEADED with him to cook and he can never say no to you (he also didn’t have any other ideas).

“erwin please! you’re such a good chef, i don’t understand—”

“it would just be better to get a caterer!” he argued back

you cross your arms “what other ideas have you got, then?”

he stared at you blankly “well- i…” he coughs awkwardly

“exactly…” you say as you slowly walk to grab your keys, you guys were going food shopping.

YAY YOU GOT YOUE WAY! he was in the back, apron on that obviously said ‘kiss the chef’… and you did. a lot. ANYWAYS, he cheffed up the most scrumptious, gorgeous, mouth-watering christmas meal you can imagine.

everyone cheered and clapped as he brought out the banquet of food, and oh my god, everyone LOVED it. everyone asked for seconds! sasha obviously asked for thirds… and fourths… and someone please make sure she doesn’t throw up.

of course, hange would be the one to bring the most random activity ever, this mf loves a treasure hunt and wanted to do one but just make it christmas themed…

“how about…” they pause for dramatic effect “a christmas treasure hunt!” they jump with joy, doing weird jazz hands.

your eyes widen, how odd.. “oh wow! a-and how is that going to work?”

“i’m glad you asked!” they beamed, suddenly pulling out a large notebook filled with all the information you needed. and they will word vomit the whole thing to you.

now when it came to actually conducting this, you guys had to show up to the place that was booked out for the work party early of course, to hide the prizes and clues and such. hange had you working like a DOG, they had everything planned out and needed it to be that exact way.

the day of might have been the most exciting day of hange’s life /srs. they gathered everyone around and informed them of what was to come, they genuinely looked like they were going to explode with christmas joy at any given moment.

and everyone was off! it was actually super fun and enjoyable for everyone, even if SOME people tried to cheat… connie & ymir… i’m looking at you. unfortunately, hange hadn’t thought of the fact they weren’t allowed to partake, which sadden them but, it was all worth it seeing all of their coworkers have such an amazing time. (levi won btw)

[fairymischief]

I have never seen a description of the Divine feminine/masculine that wasn't disgustingly regressive, and both disempowering to women while excusing men from doing things that every human being ought to do - especially in relationships. It's basically setting a one-size-fits-all personality type for both men and women. For example:

This makes it seem like being a leader, being rational and logical, being assertive, and generally taking charge of your life in a proactive way is a male thing. "Let things come to you, let them flow." Let yourself be a pawn in a man's world, moved hither and thither by THEIR desires, THEIR plans. Oh, and don't forget to "be open to change," because your life is supposed to be open to changing any time and any way your man wants it to. He's the active element; you're just expected to go with it.

Meanwhile, it makes it seem like being caring and nurturing is a female thing (which is a convenient way to unload the entire burden of caring for EVERYONE else on the woman) and it suggests that men shouldn't be expected to have emotional intelligence. So it makes men feel justified to be cavemen who understand nothing about the feelings of others and don't need to understand, nor lift a finger to help anyone in a way that would be considered "nurturing."

It's just so silly, and it doesn't even make sense; for example, it says that "receptivity" is a female thing. Um, I'm pretty sure that when a man is sitting on his ass doing nothing and having everything done for him by his woman, that that's him being pretty damn "receptive." It's like these qualities only apply when it's convenient, sort of like how "the kitchen is a woman's domain" until its in a professional setting; THEN the kitchen is a man's domain. And are we going to say that all the male innovators, writers, artists and musicians are in their "feminine energy" by being creative?

I could go on and on, but I think it's easy to see how sexist and gross this whole concept is. 🤮

@hyacinthsgrimoire

[thrashkink-coven]

Happy Venus day!!! ✴️

Very often I get the question from atheists and sceptics that’s like “what if Lucifer isn’t real? What if he’s just a voice in your head and you’re going crazy? Don’t you ever get nervous that he’s not really there?”

and to be honest it is a fair question, even though it’s usually asked with poor intentions.

My answer to that question would be no, I don’t worry about it, but I’ve definitely thought about it. I think anyone who works with any deities should think about it. Being vigilant and aware of our mental health is one of the most important things to consider as a practitioner. And as someone with close family members who have schizophrenia, I’ve taken the time to do extensive research about hallucinations and dissociative identity disorders. I grew up in a neglectful household and could very well have some mental condition I don’t know about. Considering these things doesn’t scare me, I don’t have any negative stigma towards those with mental health conditions like psychosis. If I truly had DID or something of the sort, I wouldn’t feel betrayed or foolish. I would just know that my brain works somewhat differently and that’s okay. I hate this attitude of “hey are you sure you’re not crazy?” because even if I did have some sort of disorder, I still wouldn’t be crazy. People with disorders are not crazy.

I don’t have hallucinations regularly, but I have experienced them before, so I at least know what warning signs to look out for in my own psychology. For the most part, fantastical experiences or conversations don’t happen in the mundane. I have to put a lot of focus and effort into channeling to have these deities. Lucifer is always with me, but I can’t always see him. If I send him away, he leaves.

In a situation where I discovered that Lucifer really was some kind of dissociative identity or hallucination, it wouldn’t be some life ruining revelation to me. In fact I don’t think it would change all that much. Lucifer’s presence has always been a positive one. He’s never given me paranoid thoughts or encouraged harmful behaviours. If he really was just a voice in my head, we’ll damn, he’s the nicest and wisest voice ever. If it’s really all just me, wow. I’m fucking amazing. How I managed to provide myself with this much guidance and advice is crazy.

and I think that’s the bottom line. Lucifer doesn’t cause me any harm, working with and worshiping him doesn’t bring any negativity into my life, and I he actively encourages me to be healthy and happy. So even if he wasn’t real, I’d still feel comfortable worshiping him. I’d probably still carry on much the same, because he’s only been good to me.

Lucifer is just as much a part of me as any of my spirit guides are. The Lucifer I interact with is a direct reflection of my psychology, my own understandings inform how he appears to me. To converse with him is also to converse with myself.

My work with one of my very first spiritual guides, Archangel Jophiel, was cantered a lot around dissecting and dismembering my scepticism. He really did make me feel crazy, and he forced me to confront my fear of being delusional. If I’m constantly paranoid that none of this is real, every single time I experience something fantastical in my deliberate searching and witchcraft, I would always run away and call myself crazy. At some point I had to accept what I was experiencing and make decisions based on that acceptance.

I just saw something really fucking crazy from Lucifer, I can either spend the rest of my life constantly trying to prove he’s real or fake, or I can just take the experience, decide and keep what’s valuable and leave the rest to speculation.

I say that I’m theistic because my experiences have lead me to believe that these energies really are alive. I do believe that Lucifer exists in reality as an energy and entity, I do believe he’s a real deity and that I’m reaching out to someone other than myself when I work with him. But I don’t know any of this, I just believe so. And I don’t need to know (and I couldn’t know because it’s not provable) because it doesn’t change my everyday reality either way. Living for Lucifer is a philosophy and state of mind. Whether or not the Morning Star hears me, I’ll still praise him, because I just think he’s that awesome. I’ve been lucky enough to get a response, but I cannot prove that to anyone else, and I don’t really care to.

But in ether scenario, I still win. Either I am actually working with him and he loves me and treats me well, or I’ve somehow mastered self deification and have the best case of psychosis ever. Either I’m going on astral journeys with my Gods or I have incredible, like truly phenomenal visualization skills. Either I have a wonderful God constantly looking out for me, or I’m just constantly extremely lucky. Either I have a beautiful altar that my Gods enjoy and appreciate, or I have a beautiful collection of trinkets and treasure that makes me happy every time I play with them. Either way, I’m happier and healthier now than I’ve ever been before.

I appreciate atheistic Luciferians and Satanists because they are proof that the underlying principles and practice still works even if they don’t recognize an actual Lucifer in their gnosis.

Tldr, if you think I’m crazy that’s totally okay. I probably am a little bit crazy. The important part is that I’m not hurting myself or others, not glorifying harmful behaviour or neglecting my mental health. Whether or not Lucifer is real doesn’t matter when I know I’m real.

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Part Six

Word count: 9.2K

Warnings: angst, smut!! (18+), fluff too, all the emotions

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Masterlist

The rhythmic clinking of tools echoes in your quiet apartment as Bucky, Steve and Sam work on replacing the shattered window while you are at work. A crisp draft from the afternoon air slips through the gap, making Bucky shift uncomfortably. He stands nearby, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the street below for any signs of movement.

“You sure this place is secure now?” Sam questions, handing Steve a screwdriver. “Because that was one heck of an entry.”

Steve nods, securing the new pane in place. “We’re reinforcing it, but I think we need to figure out who did this, not just block it out.”

Bucky let out a low huff, his jaw tightening. “It’s not just a message. Someone out there knows too much—about me. About what happened.”

“And they made it personal,” Sam adds.

Steve brushes his hands on his jeans. “We’ll track them down, Buck. But we’ve got to start smart. What’s the connection? Why now?”

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. For your and Elizabeth’s sake, he tries to push down the storm of emotions that threatens to overtake him. “They’re tied to what happened to me. The people who took me. Could be Hydra… or someone trying to replicate what they did to me.”

“Then we’ll find them,” Steve says firmly. “Together. Like we always have.”

Sam leans against the wall, arms crossed. “And we’re not just talking about going after them, man. You need to let us help you—really help. None of this lone wolf act.”

Bucky’s lips press into a thin line. He nods, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift.

Steve glances at Bucky, sensing his tension but choosing not to press further. Instead, he redirects his focus. "Sam, make sure we log the details of the break-in. We might’ve missed something the first time through."

Sam nods and pushes off the wall, grabbing his phone. "Already on it. I’ll run the details by my contacts too—see if there’s been any chatter about suspicious activity in the area."

As Sam steps into the hallway, Steve leans closer to Bucky, lowering his voice. "You don’t have to carry this alone, you know."

Bucky exhales sharply, his metal fingers flexing unconsciously. "I’m not carrying it alone. I’m just… trying to keep it together."

Steve places a hand on his shoulder, grounding him as they walk out of the guest room and to the living room. "We’ll figure this out, Buck. You’ve faced worse and come out stronger. And you’ve got more people backing you now than ever before."

Bucky gives a tight nod. "I just don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of me."

Before Steve can respond, the sound of the front door opening draws their attention. You step inside with Elizabeth following you as you juggle a bag of groceries in one hand and your keys in the other. 

“Looks like you guys got it all sorted,” you greet with a smile, though your gaze lingers on Bucky, who stands tense and guarded.

“Almost there,” Steve replies, straightening up and dusting off his hands. “We’ve reinforced the frame and added some extra measures to make sure it’s not so easy to break next time.”

Elizabeth bounds over to the couch, her backpack slipping off her shoulders. “Next time?” she echoes, her tone half-serious and half-curious.

“There won’t be a next time,” Bucky mutters, his eyes flicking to the guest room and then back to her. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it that makes Elizabeth glance at him curiously before pulling out her homework.

“You picked her up?” Sam asks, returning from the hallway with his phone in hand. He glances at you and then back at Elizabeth.

“Figured it was the easiest and the least I could do while you all handled this,” you reply, setting the groceries on the counter. “Besides, it gave me a chance to get her opinion on snack choices. She’s got some strong feelings about granola bars, by the way.”

Elizabeth looks up with a grin. “Because chocolate chip is way better than raisin.”

Sam chuckles. “Kid’s got good taste.”

As the light banter fills the room, Bucky shifts, his arms crossing over his chest again. He watches the easy interaction, his tension visibly easing just a fraction. You notice and meet his gaze, offering him a small smile before pulling a loaf of bread from the bag.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, by the way,” you offer, glancing at the three of them. “It’s the least I can do to say thanks.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Depends. What’s on the menu?”

“Spaghetti,” you answer. “And if Elizabeth has her way, garlic bread too.”

Elizabeth perks up. “You have to make the garlic bread. It’s the best part!”

Steve grins, stepping closer to the counter. “Sounds like a solid meal. Count me in.”

Sam nods in agreement. “Same here. I’m not missing garlic bread.”

You glance at Bucky, who hesitates. For a moment, it seems like he might turn the offer down, but then Elizabeth pipes up, “You’ll stay too, right, Uncle Bucky?”

Her wide-eyed look cuts through his reluctance, and with a faint smile, he nods. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

As you move around the kitchen, the atmosphere gradually softens. Steve and Sam take turns helping Elizabeth with her homework while Bucky keeps his position near the guest room, though he doesn’t seem as tightly wound as before.

“You know,” you say after a while, breaking the comfortable silence, “it’s nice having a full house like this. A little chaotic, maybe, but nice.”

Sam smirks. “Chaos is kind of our specialty.”

Steve chuckles. “True enough.”

Bucky, still standing by the closed door, finally turns away from it and looks at you. “You don’t mind us sticking around?”

You meet his gaze, your expression warm. “Not at all. Feels safer, honestly. And besides,” you add with a small grin, “I figure if anyone tries something again, they’ll regret it pretty fast with you three here.”

That earns a low chuckle from Bucky, and for the first time all day, there’s a flicker of something lighter in his expression. “You’re not wrong.”

Elizabeth glances up from her homework and adds, “Uncle Bucky’s the best at keeping people safe.”

The quiet pride in her voice makes him pause, his lips twitching into a faint but genuine smile. “Thanks, Bee.”

Dinner is filled with easy conversation and the kind of camaraderie that feels natural, even in the wake of the unease from before. By the time the dishes are cleared and the table wiped down, the apartment feels less like a crime scene and more like a home again.

As the evening winds down, Bucky finds himself lingering by the door while the others gather their things. He turns to you, his gaze steady. “Thanks—for dinner and picking up Elizabeth.”

You nod, your smile soft. “Anytime. You know that.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“Please call me if anything feels off. Don’t hesitate.” Bucky pulls you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your head. 

“I promise. Thank you for everything.” 

Later that night, Bucky is consumed by the quietness of his apartment, save for the soft hum of the heater battling the December chill. Bucky sits on the edge of the couch, staring at the empty tea mug in his hands. Dinner had been… nice. Uncomfortably nice. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease—laughing at one of Sam’s terrible jokes, watching Elizabeth light up over dessert, hearing your voice cut through the heaviness in his chest like it belonged there.

It should’ve been good. Great, even. But instead, it left him unsettled. Warmth wasn’t something he was used to, not in a long time but now it wrapped around him like a second skin, soft but unfamiliar.

Alpine pads up onto the couch, curling into his lap. Bucky absently runs his fingers over her fur, his metal hand resting stiffly at his side. It’s not that he doesn’t trust it—it’s that he doesn’t trust himself. Not with this. Not with people he cares about.

His gaze shifts to the hallway, where Elizabeth is staying for the night after she pleaded with her dad, his room door slightly ajar. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Bucky crosses the room and gently nudges the bedroom door open. Elizabeth stirs at the sound, her small frame wrapped in a blanket as her stuffed bear rests on the pillow beside her.

“Uncle Bucky?” Her sleepy voice pulls him closer.

“Yeah, Bee, just me,” he says softly, crouching down to her level. “Wanted to check in before you head off to dreamland.”

Her brows knit together, her drowsy eyes searching his. “You look sad.”

Bucky lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not sad. Just thinking too much. Go back to sleep, alright?”

“You’ll keep us safe?” she murmurs, already halfway back to sleep.

His throat tightens at the trust in her voice. “Always,” he promises, pressing a kiss to her head and smoothing the blanket over her shoulders. “Nothing’s getting past me.”

Once she’s asleep again, Bucky quietly shuts the door and leans against the wall, dragging a hand through his hair. He could handle threats, danger, even his own ghosts—but this? The trust and love of people like Elizabeth and you? That’s what made him feel like he was walking on thin ice.

Back on the couch, the quiet feels heavier now. The mug is now cold, its contents long forgotten. He sets it on the table and leans back, Alpine shifting against his lap. His mind circles back to the warmth of the evening—Elizabeth’s laughter, your voice, the way you looked at him and how you reminded him that you're all in this together.

But you... you make it seem effortless. You see through his walls without tearing them down, slipping past his defenses like sunlight through cracks.

Together. That word clings to him, even now. It feels foreign, like a language he’s trying to relearn after decades of silence. But it also feels... dangerous. Trusting someone meant opening up, and opening up meant exposing the parts of himself he’d rather leave buried.

He glances at the leather-bound journal on the coffee table. A quiet ritual, one of the only ways he can sort through the noise in his head.

With a sigh, he picks it up and flips to a blank page. The pen feels heavy in his hand as he stares at the empty space, searching for the words he hasn’t said aloud.

It scares me.

I don’t know how to do this.

Dinner tonight felt like stepping into a memory I don’t deserve to have. Warmth, laughter, people who care—things I stopped letting myself believe in. But then there’s Elizabeth, trusting me to keep her safe. There’s Y/N, looking at me like I’m not just the sum of everything I’ve done.

Not the kind of fear I’m used to—the kind that keeps you alive in a fight. This is different. It’s... quieter. More patient. It whispers things I can’t ignore: What if you mess this up? What if you hurt them? What if they find out who you really are and walk away?

I can’t stop thinking about Y/N. How her voice cuts through the static in my head. How Y/N smiled at me tonight like I wasn’t broken.

I don’t know what to do with this feeling.

Bucky stares at the page for a long time before closing the journal. The words sit heavy in his chest, like a truth he’s only just starting to admit to himself.

As Alpine stretches and curls tighter against him, Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Tomorrow, the world would demand answers, plans, and action. But tonight, he allows himself this: the quiet hum of the heater, the softness of a cat’s fur, and the hope—no matter how fragile—that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to do it all alone.

The next morning, Steve and Sam spread out across the living room, papers and laptop screens cluttering the coffee table. The remnants of breakfast—Elizabeth's half-finished cereal bowl sat off to the side, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. Bucky stood near the window, his arms crossed as his gaze flicked between the street below and the scattered information.

“This symbol,” Steve said, tapping a grainy photo on his screen. “It showed up on the corner of the broken window frame. It’s faint, almost like it was etched there on purpose.”

Sam squinted, leaning closer. “That’s not random graffiti. Looks like an old Hydra mark.”

Bucky stiffened at the mention, his fingers curling into fists. “That’s not just any Hydra symbol,” he said, his voice low. “That’s from the division that… experimented on me.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Steve exchanged a glance with Sam before speaking. “You think this is tied to someone specific from back then?”

Bucky nodded, his jaw tight. “There were scientists, mercenaries… a lot of people involved. But there’s one name that stands out.” He hesitated, the weight of the memory pressing against him. “Jakob Neumann. He oversaw the project that gave me this.” He held up his metal arm, the morning light glinting off its surface.

Sam frowned, pulling out his phone. “That name rings a bell. Give me a sec.” He typed quickly, his brow furrowing as he scanned through a database. “Neumann’s been off the grid for years, but…” His eyes lit up with realization. “A guy matching his description popped up in a report from Romania six months ago. It wasn’t confirmed, but there were whispers about him working on black-market enhancements.”

Steve frowned, straightening. “If he’s resurfacing, it could explain why they’re coming after you now. Maybe they’re trying to tie up loose ends—or restart their work.”

Bucky’s grip on the windowsill tightened. “If Neumann’s behind this, he won’t stop at me. He’ll go after anyone connected to me.”

Steve stepped closer, his tone resolute. “Then we take the fight to him before he gets the chance.”

Sam glanced between the two of them. “We need more intel first. Charging in without a plan isn’t gonna help anyone—especially with Elizabeth and Y/N caught in the crossfire.”

Bucky turned sharply at the mention of your name, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N shouldn’t be involved in this. I won’t let her get hurt because of me.”

Sam raised a hand in surrender. “We’re all on the same page, man. That’s why we’ve gotta be smart about this.”

Steve nodded. “Sam’s right. Let’s track down where Neumann was last seen and see if we can get a trail on him. And Bucky…” Steve’s voice softened. “We’ll handle this together. You’re not doing this alone.”

Bucky looked between them, his chest tightening with conflicting emotions—gratitude, frustration, and the ever-present fear that his past would destroy what little good had found its way into his life. “Fine. But we don’t wait too long. Every second he’s out there is another second he’s a threat.”

By midday, the living room had transformed into a makeshift war room. Steve had set up a detailed map on the coffee table, pinpoints and notes marking places where Neumann or his associates were rumored to have been seen. Sam worked the comms, reaching out to his contacts for any new leads, while Bucky stood off to the side, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“Okay,” Sam said, straightening from the couch. “Here’s what we’ve got so far. Last confirmed sighting was in Bucharest, but there’s chatter about someone matching Neumann’s description heading east. Budapest, maybe.” He jabbed a finger at the map. “There’s also been talk of some underground tech trades—enhancements, biometrics. Sounds like his kind of game.”

Steve nodded, his gaze serious. “If he’s moving, he’s staying one step ahead. We need to figure out where he’s going next. Budapest could be a stop, or it could be a dead end.”

“We won’t know until we get boots on the ground,” Bucky interjected, his voice steady but tense.

Sam leaned back against the armrest, arms crossed. “And how do you suggest we do that? Can’t exactly hop on a plane and start asking questions without drawing attention.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. “Sam’s right. We need to be subtle. If Neumann’s involved in black-market tech, he’s probably dealing with the same players he’s worked with before. We could start there.”

“Which means infiltration,” Sam added. “We need someone who can blend in, look like they belong in that world.”

Steve glanced at Bucky, who raised an eyebrow. “You saying I look like I belong in a criminal underworld?”

Sam smirked. “If the arm fits.”

Despite the tension, a faint chuckle escaped Steve. “Sam’s got a point. You’ve been off the grid before. You know how to move in those circles.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He hated the idea of diving back into a world that felt too close to the one he’d fought so hard to escape. But he also knew he couldn’t let anyone else take that risk. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“You won’t go alone,” Steve said firmly. “I’ll handle the logistics from here, and Sam will be your backup. We’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need before you head out.”

Sam gave a mock salute. “Guess I’d better pack my ‘blending in’ jacket.”

Bucky managed a faint smirk but said nothing, his mind already racing ahead to what he’d have to do. The thought of you and Elizabeth flashed unbidden in his mind, a reminder of what was at stake.

The evening sun dips low, casting golden light across the quiet street as Bucky approaches your apartment. He hears faint laughter through your front door, Elizabeth’s voice blending with yours, and for a moment, the sound eases the tension knotting his chest.

He knocks lightly, his metal arm making a softer tap than he intended. The door opens almost immediately, and there you were, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greet, stepping aside to let him in. “Perfect timing. Elizabeth just finished her homework, and we were about to start a game of Uno.”

Elizabeth pops her head around the corner, a grin spreading across her face. “Uncle Bucky! You have to play too. Y/N's not very good at bluffing.”

You laugh, mock-offended. “Hey, I’m plenty good at bluffing! I just happen to be honest when I play with you.”

Bucky chuckles softly, stepping into the cozy space. “You’re teaching her how to bluff? Pretty sure Steve wouldn’t approve.”

Elizabeth giggles and runs to grab the deck of cards. “He doesn’t have to know.”

You gesture toward the kitchen. “Want some tea before you take her home? I just put the kettle on and I have that Chamomile kind you like.” 

Bucky blushes slightly from the thought of you purchasing his favorite tea for when he comes over. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you move to the kitchen while Elizabeth sets up the game in the living room. You hand Bucky a mug, your gaze lingering on him as he takes a sip.

“Long day?” you ask gently.

Bucky nods, his eyes fixed on the liquid in his mug. “Yeah. We’re… dealing with the intruder situation. Complicated.”

“Something dangerous?”

He looks up, your concern evident. For a second, he considers brushing it off, giving you the usual noncommittal response. But something in your steady gaze tells him you wouldn’t buy it—and maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to lie to you.

“Could be,” he admits quietly. “It’s connected to my past. And to people who might still want to use me—or worse.”

You set your mug down and cross your arms, leaning against the counter. “And you’re worried they’ll come after you. Or Elizabeth.”

“And you.”

Your breath catches for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. His blue eyes meet yours, searching, hesitant, yet brimming with an intensity that makes your heart race.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Bucky,” you say softly, stepping closer. “I’m tougher than I look. But you don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know.”

He exhales sharply, his shoulders tensing as though resisting your words. “I’m not good at letting people in,” he admits. “But the thought of something happening to you, to Elizabeth—it’s not something I can handle.”

Your hand instinctively reaches out, brushing against his metal arm. The coolness of the vibranium contrasts with the warmth of the moment. “You don’t have to handle it all alone. You’ve got Steve, Sam… and me. We’ve got your back, Bucky.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes holding an unspoken intensity, and without thinking, you lean in. You kiss him then, slow but sure, your lips finding his with a sense of quiet confidence. The moment feels natural, like something that was always meant to happen, and it’s as though the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this brief, private space.

The kiss deepens, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, the tension between you dissipating as you both lean into the intimacy of it. When you pull away, you don’t step back immediately. Instead, you stay close, your foreheads gently resting against each other as you both catch your breath.

“Y/N…” he breathes your name softly, the weight of it carrying more meaning than any words could convey.

Before you can respond, Elizabeth’s cheerful voice rings out from the living room.

“Uncle Bucky! Are you coming? I already shuffled!”

You both laugh quietly, the moment fading, but the connection still crackling between you. Bucky takes a step back, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess I’d better go lose at Uno.”

You smile, feeling your heart still race. “For the record, I’m definitely going to beat you both.”

As you both move toward the living room, you glance at him once more. The warmth in his gaze matches yours, despite the chaos happening in your lives. 

The next Friday afternoon, the school is bustling with the usual end-of-week energy. Kids laugh and gather their things for the weekend as you finish up your last tasks in the classroom when you notice something out of place—an envelope wedged between the pages of a textbook on the corner of your desk. It’s a simple, unmarked envelope, but there is something about it that makes your skin start to prickle.

You hesitate, heart racing, and open it. Inside was a folded piece of paper, handwritten in a neat but unsettling script.

"We’re watching. It’s only a matter of time."

Your blood runs cold as you read the words again. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the implication is clear. Your stomach twists in dread. You stuff the envelope into your bag, trying to shake the sense of unease that grips you. Elizabeth is already waiting by the door, backpack slung over her shoulder and a wide grin on her face.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” she asks, her voice full of enthusiasm.

You force a smile, nodding as you grab your things and follow her out into the hallway. The bustling school seems far too normal for what you're feeling inside. The tension from the note stays with you, coiling in your stomach. You glance over your shoulder one last time as you exit the building, scanning the hallway as though you might spot something or someone.

Elizabeth’s chatter helps distract you as you make your way to the parking lot. As you reach the front gates, you spot Bucky’s familiar truck idling by the curb. He leans against it, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd with a kind of practiced vigilance. When he sees you, his expression softens, and he straightens up, pushing off the truck with a slight grin.

“Hey, you two,” he says, his deep voice grounding you for a moment, calming the nerves that have been rattling around inside you. “How’s the day been?”

Elizabeth jumps up and down, eager to give her answer. “It was awesome! I got 100% on my math test!”

You smile at her excitement but can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. There’s something in his gaze, something concerned, but you can’t quite place it.

“I’m proud of you,” Bucky says, giving her a playful ruffle of her hair as she beams up at him. Then, his attention shifts back to you. “How about you?”

You hesitate for a moment, the unease creeping back. You can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. You glance at Elizabeth, then turn your gaze to Bucky, knowing there’s no way to keep this from him any longer.

Bucky senses your hesitation. “Hop on in Bee. You can watch the iPad on the way home.” He helps Elizabeth buckle in, shutting the door and stepping back up on the sidewalk near you. 

“I found something today,” you say, your voice quieter than usual. “In my classroom. A note.”

Bucky’s brow furrows slightly, his posture shifting, the relaxed demeanor slipping away as he gives you his full attention. “A note?”

You nod, your hands subconsciously clutching your bag tighter. “Yeah. It was in one of the textbooks on my desk. No return address, no name. Just these words.”

You pull the envelope from your bag, handing it to him. Bucky doesn’t need to read it aloud; the message is clear as he scans it quickly, his face hardening with each passing second.

His jaw clenches, his free hand flexing as if he's holding something back. “This is...”

“Not a coincidence,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like whoever’s behind all of this is getting closer. I don’t know what they want, but it doesn’t feel safe.”

Bucky steps closer to you, his presence both comforting and protective, his expression now fierce. “This changes things. We need to keep you and Elizabeth safe. I’ll talk to Steve and Sam. We’ll make more headway on who is behind this immediately.”

You nod, the weight of his words sinking in. For the first time, the realization hits that you aren’t just dealing with some random threat. This is bigger, and it’s personal.

Bucky glances over his shoulder toward the truck, then back at you, his eyes softening as he steps even closer, closing the space between you. His voice drops low, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I don’t like this, Y/N,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “But I’ll make sure we figure this out. Whatever it takes.”

You nod again, but the unease lingers in your chest, the weight of his words sinking deeper into you. It's not just the threat, but the quiet protection he offers, the way his presence feels like a shield around you.

Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the moment, cheerful as ever. “When are we gonna get to eat? I’m starving!”

“We’ll figure something out, Bee.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head. “She’s got a point. I think we all need some downtime this weekend.”

His eyes flicker to the sky, then back to you, his expression softening again. “Listen, I’m gonna drop Elizabeth off at home and promise to make up our usual Saturday mornings to her later, then I was thinking…” He pauses, his tone turning a little more uncertain, as if he’s considering the best way to ask. “Maybe you want to come by my place afterward? I’ll make dinner. We can just… hang out. Take a break from all this.”

You glance at him, surprised but grateful for the offer. You’re tired, emotionally drained from the constant worry of the past few days. The idea of a quiet night, just the two of you, feels like the perfect way to reset.

You meet his gaze, and there's a soft warmth in his eyes as he waits for your answer.

Bucky nods, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, reassuring smile. “Alright, I’ll take care of everything. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Just relax.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, your voice filled with relief. "I think I could use some quiet time."

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you, the stress from the day slowly starting to lift. With Bucky here, you know things will feel safer, even if just for tonight.

“I’ll see you later, then,” you say, taking a step back toward the truck as he moves to climb into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “Be safe driving and if anything suspicious happens again, please call me.” 

“Promise.” You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, before stepping back and waving to Elizabeth. 

As he pulls away with Elizabeth’s excited chatter filling the truck, you watch them go, feeling a sense of calm you haven’t had in days. It’s a small, but welcome, piece of normalcy.

The tension from the day slowly begins to ebb away as you settle into Bucky’s cozy apartment, the warmth from the stove, and his presence feels like the perfect safe space, and for the first time in a while, you don’t feel the need to constantly look over your shoulder.

You curl your legs beneath you, making yourself comfortable, and watch him move around the kitchen. He looks so at ease, and yet, you can tell there’s something lingering just beneath the surface.

“Need help with anything?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, giving you a small smile. “Nah, I’ve got it. You just relax.” He focuses on the pan for a moment, the quiet thrum of his concentration giving way to a slight sigh. He turns back to you after a beat. “How’s the job going this year? How’s the school year treating you?”

“It's going okay. The kids are great, but it's been a lot. It always is at the beginning of the year and with Christmas break coming up. I love it, though. I just... sometimes feel like I'm running on fumes.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and he walks over to the couch, sitting beside you. “Yeah… I get that. It’s like you’re trying to be strong for the people who need you, but sometimes… you just want to let go.”

You nod, feeling the weight of the words. He looks at you, his gaze soft but intense, and you sense that he’s not just talking about you, but about himself too.

“I get it,” you say quietly. “You don’t have to pretend, you know? You don’t have to always be the strong one.”

Bucky lets out a breath, leaning back into the couch, eyes searching the ceiling as if he’s looking for the right words. His hand rests on his knee, his metal fingers lightly tapping a rhythm against his skin.

“I haven’t always had that kind of space,” he starts, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Growing up, my family was... tight-knit. My mom, my sister... my dad was always working, but we were close. And then after the war, everything changed.” He pauses, as if that thought alone takes a toll. “I kind of shut them out. After everything that happened…I lost my mom and didn’t go to her funeral. My dad told me off and told me to never go back after that. I regret it everyday, for not showing up. For never saying goodbye.”

You look at him, your heart aching for him in a way you hadn’t expected. The same loss you both shared, though in different forms.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say softly, your voice gentle, understanding. “I can’t imagine losing so much... like that. I used to go back home to see my dad, but after my sister and nephews... it’s just not the same anymore. I don’t really have anyone anymore. I used to think family meant blood, but I guess I’m learning that it’s more about who’s there for you, right?”

Bucky looks at you then, his blue eyes steady, as if weighing your words. He nods slowly, understanding. “Yeah. I guess that’s true. Steve, Sam, and Elizabeth—they’re my family now. They’ve been my rock. And, well, now you, too.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, full of meaning. You feel the quiet sincerity in them, and you realize that, in some small way, you’ve become part of that family too.

A smile tugs at your lips. “I like that,” you whisper, your gaze holding his. “I like being part of your family.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and he turns toward you fully, his knee brushing against yours. He hesitates for a second, his hand flexing, as if uncertain about something. Then, in a quiet voice, he adds, “You’ve got a place here. For as long as you want it. This—this family? It’s yours too.”

You feel your heart swell, warmth blooming inside you at his words. Something inside you loosens, and you let out a slow breath. The connection between you two feels stronger now, like a thread that’s been woven between you and tied with care.

You reach out, your hand brushing his, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper. His eyes flicker to your hand, and then to your face, before he gently takes your hand in his, his fingers warm against your skin.

Bucky lets out a breath, his voice quieter now. “I know we’ve... crossed some lines already, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.”

You smile softly at him, your thumb gently brushing over his hand. “Bucky, you’re not pushing me into anything. I trust you.”

He looks down at your joined hands, his metal fingers slightly trembling as he touches you, unsure of how to navigate the unfamiliar territory. But then you gently place your other hand on his, your fingers running over the cool metal of his arm. It’s a gesture of reassurance, and you meet his eyes, your gaze unwavering.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I don’t mind. I want you to touch me, Bucky. In any way that feels right.”

Bucky’s breath hitches, his chest tightening as he gazes at you with something like longing in his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he leans toward you, his face inches from yours. And without another word, he kisses you.

It’s soft at first—gentle, as if testing the waters. But then you pull him closer, your hands moving to his chest as you deepen the kiss. He doesn’t pull away, and for a moment, everything else fades. The world outside doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him, connected in a way that feels like home.

Bucky’s hand, still unsure, finds its way to your cheek, the warmth of his touch mingling with the coolness of the metal on his other hand. And you welcome it, the mixture of both parts of him, feeling the whole of him in that moment.

When the kiss breaks, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you try to regain composure. But neither of you says anything. Words aren’t needed right now. It’s enough to just be with each other.

And when Bucky whispers, “I’m glad you’re here,” you know he means more than just tonight.

“I think I’ve been waiting for something like this for a long time.”

Bucky’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it’s as if time slows down. He studies your face, his own expression serious but tender, as though he’s looking for something in you. Then, without another word, he pulls you closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he kisses you again.

This time, it’s different. Slower. Deeper. There’s a weight to it, a shared understanding that goes beyond physical connection. His lips press against yours with a quiet intensity, and you feel the storm of emotions between you two—the hurt, the healing, the desire for something more.

You let your hands move to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. His metal arm rests on the couch again beside you, the cold steel a reminder of his past, but you’re not afraid. You reach out, tentatively at first, your fingers brushing over it before gently cupping his arm. You sense the hesitation in him, the uncertainty about how much he can give of himself without losing control.

But you smile, meeting his gaze. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I want you. All of you.”

He leans down to kiss you again, taking his time. His lips are soft, but there’s an undeniable hunger in his touch, a yearning for something you both haven’t fully acknowledged until now. His metal arm comes around you, drawing you closer, and you don’t flinch. Instead, you press yourself against him, feeling the weight of his arm, the coolness of it grounding you as much as the warmth of his other hand that cradles your face.

There’s no rush, no urgency between you two, just the slow, deliberate connection of bodies and hearts. He takes his time, kissing you deeper, exploring every inch of you as if he’s memorizing the feel of you. You reciprocate, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer as if you’re afraid this might all disappear if you don’t.

But then, suddenly, a sharp, panicked sound from the kitchen breaks the moment.

“Shit! The dinner!” Bucky mutters, pulling away abruptly. His face shifts from passion to surprise as he stands up quickly, his hand fumbling for his shirt as he rushes toward the kitchen.

You can’t help but laugh, a soft giggle escaping your lips. The seriousness of the moment vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sense of playful chaos.

Bucky hurries into the kitchen, his movements a blur as he scrambles to turn the stove off, muttering curses under his breath. You get up, following him into the kitchen, still smiling at the way he’s trying to salvage the meal.

“You might want to check the potatoes,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, crossing your arms.

Bucky glances at you over his shoulder, his face slightly flushed from the rush. “I swear, I was so sure I had everything under control,” he says with a sheepish grin. “But then… well, you know.”

You smile, watching him move around, trying to salvage the dinner with a slight laugh in his voice. The lightheartedness between you both feels so natural, so freeing, and you feel more at ease than you have in a long time.

Bucky finally turns back to you, his hands still wiping off the remnants of whatever went wrong in the kitchen. His gaze softens as he looks at you, a slight chuckle escaping his lips as he walks back toward you.

“Guess we’ll have to make do with takeout,” he says, his voice light. "Any preferences?"

You shake your head, still feeling pleasantly warm from your earlier kisses. "Surprise me."

Bucky nods and pulls out his phone to place an order. As he talks, you let your gaze wander over him - the strong line of his jaw, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the subtle shift of his shoulders as he moves. When he catches you looking, his eyes darken.

He sets the phone down and moves closer, his steps measured and deliberate. 

Bucky's eyes lock onto yours as he approaches, his gaze intense and full of longing. The air between you feels charged, crackling with electricity. Without a word, he reaches for you, his hands gently cupping your face as he draws you in for another kiss. 

This time, there's no hesitation. His lips move against yours with heated urgency, and you respond in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. A soft moan escapes you as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You part your lips eagerly, deepening the kiss as your bodies press together.

Bucky's hands roam down your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When they reach your hips, he grips you firmly and lifts you up. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. 

Bucky gently lowers you onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes your breath catch. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he looks down at you with a mix of desire and tenderness.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks softly, his voice rough with want. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That's all the permission he needs. Bucky captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring everything he feels for you into it. His hands roam over your body, exploring every inch of you, discarding your clothes in the wake. 

You arch into his touch, your body aching for more. Your nipples harden under his fingers, and you gasp as he pinches them gently. Bucky's mouth leaves yours, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. He pauses at your breasts, lavishing attention on each nipple in turn.

You moan, your back arching off the bed as he sucks and nips at your sensitive flesh. Bucky's hand slides down your body, tracing a path towards your core. When he reaches your panties, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and pulls them down, leaving you bare for him.

His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on your slick folds. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathes, his voice husky with desire.

Then, without another word, he's back to kissing you, his fingers mapping every inch of your skin as your hearts beat in time. There's no rush this time, only the quiet intensity of being together. His fingers slip between your legs to tease your clit, drawing out a moan from your throat.

When you can't wait any longer, you pull him down for another kiss. "Bucky, please..."

With a groan, he pushes back, his movements unhurried as he pulls off his own clothes. Your eyes drop to his cock, and he chuckles under his breath at the hungry look on your face. His hand wraps around the base of his shaft, stroking slowly as his eyes lock on yours.

"I don't want to rush through this. I want to feel you for the first time nice and slow." He pauses, his gaze flickering down your body. "Tell me you want that too."

Your mouth has gone dry, but you manage to croak out an assent. "Y-yes... yes, please."

Bucky nods, his teeth catching the corner of his mouth. Then he reaches to his nightstand for a condom and rolls it onto his shaft. You watch, mesmerized, as he slicks himself with lube.

The anticipation is driving you crazy, your body so sensitive with want. When Bucky finally slides a finger inside you, your toes curl and your hips jerk up off the bed.

"Oh god, oh god..."

He chuckles, his thumb teasing your clit. "Not yet. Just hold on and feel me."

You do as he asks, letting his touch wash over you as he works you open. Your nails dig into your palms as you wait, your heart hammering in your ears. He takes his time, his finger crooking inside you to hit the exact spot that makes you whine.

"Okay," he says, pulling his fingers out with a satisfied smirk. "Ready?"

You nod and he shifts forward, his cock nudging at your entrance. You open your legs wider, wanting him to fill you completely. Slowly, inch by inch, he slides inside you until he's fully seated.

Bucky buries his face in your neck, his breathing ragged. "Fuck," he pants. "You feel even better than I imagined."

You wrap your legs around him, your pussy clenching around his shaft. "Please move."

He groans, his hips pulling back slowly before he pushes forward again. "Okay, baby, okay..."

The friction inside you is exquisite. Every stroke hits your g-spot perfectly, making you shake and whine with pleasure. His cock hits deeper and deeper with each thrust, the sounds of your wetness echoing through his bedroom as he fills you.

As he fucks you, Bucky's kisses fall over your skin like rain. Your lips, your neck, the shell of your ear. His teeth nip at your collarbone, eliciting a startled cry from your throat. He smiles against your skin, his rhythm never faltering.

It feels like hours and only seconds at the same time, your bodies moving in perfect sync. When his teeth bite down on the flesh between your neck and shoulder, a sudden jolt of pleasure makes you see stars. Your body goes taut, your nails digging into Bucky's shoulders as you scream his name.

The sensation of you clenching down on his cock is all it takes for him to join you over the edge. Bucky gasps, his hips stuttering before he comes hard inside you. He moans, the sound vibrating against your skin.

You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms as you come back down from the high. 

After a few quiet moments, Bucky pulls you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the bathroom. His touch is steady, almost reverent, as he sets you down gently. The sound of the shower fills the space as he turns it on, pulling you under the warm spray with him. His fingers brush against your skin, caressing your face as if committing every detail to memory, his blue eyes reflecting the unspoken tenderness between you.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that feels endless, consuming. It’s not just desire—it’s longing, devotion, and the overwhelming need to keep this moment forever. The thought of being apart is unbearable. He presses you closer, his hands firm on your waist as he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and hoarse.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you meet his intense gaze, your heart swelling. You reach up, fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw before brushing soft kisses along his neck.

“Me either,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I’m so happy to be here with you. To feel this. To have you.”

The way he looks at you leaves you breathless—like he’s seeing every part of your soul and holding it in his hands. His eyes carry a depth that makes you feel seen, cherished, and claimed all at once. And you realize you want nothing more than to lose yourself in him, to become inseparably intertwined.

Bucky’s grip on your hips tightens slightly as though anchoring himself to the present, to you. His heart is pounding, emotions surging through him in ways he’s never felt before. He wants to tell you everything, to give voice to the feelings consuming him, but fear knots in his chest. How do you put something so profound, so earth-shattering, into words?

Instead, he holds you closer, his silence speaking volumes. And in his arms, under the cascading water, you feel it all—the unspoken promises, the yearning, and the undeniable truth that what’s between you is something neither of you can ever let go.

Bucky grips your thighs, pushing you flush against the wall, sucking on your neck as you moan loudly. His cock rubbing against you clit torturously.  

"Fuck," Bucky moans against your lips. "Please, I need you again..."  

You smile, knowing exactly what he's getting at. You lick his bottom lip, your breaths coming in short pants.  

"Take me," you whisper against his lips.

Bucky growls and pushes inside you. You let out a high pitched moan, nails digging into his shoulders. The force of the thrust makes your thighs quiver. Bucky fucks you slowly in long thrusts. Each one sends waves of pleasure through your body. He reaches up and cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently before pinching your nipples, making you arch your back and cry out his name. 

The sound of your wet bodies colliding echoes through the room. Your cries of pleasure are loud, and Bucky grins, loving that he's causing that. That he makes you feel like that. He leans in close to you, breathing in the scent of your neck before biting it gently, making you squeal again.

He increases the speed of his thrusts as you feel yourself getting close, head falling back against the wall. Bucky runs his tongue along your neck to your collarbone, making you shiver. 

"I'm close," you moan. "Oh god, I'm close..."

"Come for me," he whispers against your ear. "Come on my cock, baby." 

He picks up the pace, slamming into you now. You moan loudly, the only thing you can think is how good Bucky feels inside of you. He's hitting all the right spots, sending pleasure running through your veins. 

"Fuck, I'm going to cum..." Bucky pants against your neck. 

"Yes, oh god" You squeal as you feel him stiffen inside you, and that's all it takes to push you over the edge. You cry out in ecstasy, body shaking against him. You can feel Bucky doing the same, his cock pulsing inside you. He presses you lips together, swallowing your moans. You stay flushed against the shower wall for a few minutes, the warmth of the water washing over you.

“You okay?” Bucky asks as he helps you stand to your feet, wobbling slightly as you steady yourself. 

“Yeah,” Is all that you can speak, overwhelmed with your emotions at the moment. 

“Let me take care of you,” Bucky murmurs, his voice gentle as he reaches for the shampoo. His touch is tender, his fingers threading through your hair with such care it feels like a quiet promise. He keeps the soap from your eyes, leaning in to press soft kisses against your damp face. The warmth of his affection draws a soft giggle from you, the sound making his lips curl into a small, content smile.

When he rinses the shampoo out, his hands trail down to your body, lathering a soapy cloth with delicate precision. His touch is delicate, as if every inch of your skin deserves his undivided attention. The intimacy of it—the simplicity of being cared for—sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the water. You gently take the cloth from him, mirroring his actions with the same tenderness, pressing kisses along the muscles of his back as you go.

Once the water is turned off, Bucky grabs a towel and wraps it around your body, patting you dry with the kind of focus that makes your heart ache with gratitude. He pulls his robe from the hook, draping it over your shoulders and tying it snugly, ensuring you’re wrapped in his warmth. With a towel secured around his waist, he takes your hand and leads you back to his bedroom.

You settle on the edge of his bed, watching as he rummages through his drawers. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration makes you smile, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling the room with a palpable sense of connection.

“These should work,” he says, finally pulling out a soft T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He hands them to you, his fingers brushing against yours, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter.

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words heavy with meaning.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, and you swear you see the slightest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. But in his eyes, there’s something deeper—a quiet joy in caring for you, in sharing this space, this vulnerability. And as you slip into the clothes, the scent of him surrounding you, you know that being here with him feels like home.

Bucky watches as you slip into the T-shirt and sweatpants, his chest tightening at the sight of you dressed in his clothes. It’s such a small thing, yet it fills him with a warmth he can’t quite explain. He tosses the towel aside and pulls on a pair of boxers, then gestures toward the bed.

“Come on,” he says softly, his voice almost shy.

You crawl under the covers, the crisp sheets cool against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that spreads through you when Bucky slides in beside you. He turns off the bedside lamp, the soft glow of the moon through the window casting silver shadows across his features.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet hum of the night settles around you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It feels safe. Right.

Bucky shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours, and you instinctively roll onto your side to face him. He does the same, propping his head on his hand as his steel-blue eyes search yours.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper.

You nod, smiling. “More than comfortable. This… this feels good.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a soft smile, but it fades just as quickly. His gaze drops for a moment, then returns to yours, something unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

“I…” he starts, then stops, exhaling a sharp breath. “I’m not great at this—at saying what’s on my mind.”

You reach out, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. I get it.”

He places his hand over yours, his calloused fingers warm and grounding. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… new. I’ve spent so much time keeping people at a distance, thinking it’s better that way. Safer. But with you…” His voice trails off, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing grounding him in this moment.

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his expression. You feel the same—a pull so strong it terrifies you. But you can’t bring yourself to say it either, not yet. Instead, you lean in, resting your forehead against his.

“With you, it feels different,” you whisper. “Like… I can finally breathe.”

Bucky closes his eyes, his jaw tightening as he fights the emotions threatening to spill over. His thumb traces slow circles over your hand. “I’m scared,” he admits quietly.

“Me too,” you confess.

The honesty lingers in the air between you, fragile but unbreakable. You both know there’s more to say—deeper truths waiting to be spoken—but for now, this is enough.

Bucky shifts closer, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest. You nestle against him, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. His lips brush the crown of your head, and you hear him whisper something so soft you almost miss it.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs.

“I won’t,” you promise, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

And as sleep begins to claim you both, you realize that even though neither of you said the words, the feeling is there—strong, unyielding, and undeniable.

Thanks for reading! Please reblog & comment <3 would love to hear how you enjoy it and feel free to send in requests!

[kvetchlandia]

So...

I went today to see "A Complete Unknown," the new James Mangold flick about Bob Dylan's early years in the Village, from his arrival in New York City in Jan, 1961 until he went electric at the Newport Folk Festival in July, 1965.

I've been a Dylan nut since I was a little kid. This, I'm sure, has little to do with any genius or musical/artistic insight on my part. Rather, it's probably just a bit of luck that fell my way in having an older sister with excellent musical taste who first turned me on to Bobby.

Don't worry, I'm not going to give away anything, for those of you who might find yourself reading this and who want to see the film but haven't done so yet. I'll limit my comments to a few, very general points.

I've read some reviews that are critical of the film for compressing some events, combining others and flipping some chronologies, as well as for leaving out some people who were important parts of the Village scene in the early 60s. I think such criticisms are silly. We're watching a piece of dramatic art based in reality, not a documentary on that reality. Four and a half years of life can't be squeezed into a bit more than two hours of screen time without taking such license. We're not going to sit through those years in real time. The screen writers and the director have to make choices and they did so in order to tell the story they wanted to tell.

The only criticism I'll share, and I feel sharing it won't in any way way interfere with anyone's enjoyment of the film, is that I wasn't particularly happy with the way Suze Rotolo was portrayed. For those who aren't Dylan fanatics and who don't have a clue who Suze Rotolo was, she was Bobby's first love and muse after arriving in the Village. In fact, at Bob's request (he was involved with the making of the film), Suze's name wasn't even used, because even though she has passed, she was always a very private individual and all these years later, Dylan still wanted to respect that privacy. In the film, she's known as Sylvie Russo. In any case, Suze was a very strong, politically active young woman, a red-diaper baby (as am I), an activist in the Congress of Racial Equality and an artist in her own right. She's the person who introduced Bob to politics, getting him so involved that he was both a participant in the Freedom Summer integration and voter registration drives in the Jim Crow South in 1963 and a singer at Martin Luther King, Jr's March on Washington for Job's and Freedom, also in 1963. It was though her influence that Dylan wrote many of his most powerful early political songs. Due to their rocky relationship and ultimate breakup, she was also the subject of some of his most beautiful ballads from that period. I just don't think any of that comes through particularly well in the film. The writers and director chose to focus more on his time with Joan Baez. I understand why they made that decision. I just think they could have managed to do so without giving such short shrift to Suze.

As far as the acting goes, Monica Barbaro is fantastic as Joan Baez and she also does a superb job of singing in Joanie's style. Edward Norton is very good as Pete Seeger. Scott McNairy is heartbreaking in his few scenes as Woody Guthrie, already deeply disabled by Huntington's Disease when Dylan first visits him shortly after arriving in New York in 1961. Timothée Chalamet, of course, has to carry the weight as Bob. He's pretty effective. He doesn't have Dylan's charisma nor is he as stunning looking as the Dylan of 1965 was, but he still pulls it off.

All right, I've said enough. Go see it. You'll like it.