#then there was another where I made them uncomfortable several times but they never stated to me clearly and that got me REALLY fucked up

[bigeloo]

M yup 5 am prime time to overthink about how I lost friends over my autistic traits 👍

[hellfiretropical]

HellchherWeek 2024

Hellcheer week 2024 Day 5: First Time

@hellcheerweek

"Can you lie down on your back for me, baby?" Eddie asked gently, pointing towards the bed. Chrissy obeyed hesitantly, feeling a little apprehensive about losing eye contact with Eddie, wondering what he would do now that she no longer had a direct view of his movements. Eddie noticed the tension. "It's okay, sweetheart. Trust me, I won't do anything you don't want." He lightly ran his hand over her spine and down to her buttocks, where he continued to caress her in circles. He leaned forward, giving several kisses first on her neck and shoulders, then on the upper part of her hips while digging his thumbs into the dimples that formed right at the end of her spine. Then he went down, giving kisses to each side of her ass, giving light bites and licks that made Chrissy sigh. He noticed her goosebumps. "Do you like it, princess? I hope so, because I'm loving this vision of paradise." Eddie said as he stepped back to admire Chrissy's face down from a little further away, almost completely exposed to him. She could hear him sigh heavily, cursing a few more words. He came closer again, resting his knee on her left side and lowering himself until he reached her neck. He kissed her ear and asked - "Can you arch your back a little higher for me, my angel? Please. It'll feel better this way." He then offered her a pillow so she could rest her head and shoulders. Then he ran his arms over her back and belly, showing her the right degree to which she should arch to be as he had asked, and in the end he placed another pillow, a little bigger, so that it would maintain the position and make her comfortable. "Good girl, so obedient!" She could hear his mischievous smile, even though his voice was full of tenderness. "If you get uncomfortable, don't forget to let me know, okay?" And Chrissy responded with a moan of confirmation. "I want to hear you say it, my dear." She replied “ok” with all the intensity that her already aroused state allowed. She was still apprehensive, but the fact that Eddie almost never let them lose physical contact, always touching and caressing her, gave her relief and confidence. The loss of eye contact had increased her anticipation and surprise regarding his movements, which consequently increased her pleasure. It was as if she had become more sensitive to his kisses and caresses. Each new touch and each kiss, lick and bite gave her small shocks. He had gone back to combining kisses and massages on her back and ass, covering every inch, every vertebra, from her neck to her tailbone. It was the first time she had done something like this. They had barely started, and she wondered why she had spent so much time experiencing this kind of sensation. It was the last lapse of rational thought she had before Eddie’s tongue began its exploration that night.

ps: I wanted to write a little first time for Eddie, but I didn't have time, maybe I can do a bonus until the end of the event.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath II

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: none I can think of

Part I || Part III

This was supposed to be just a short paragraph of Azriel's POV, but on Saturday's night I sat down and started to write. And it turned into a whole chapter. Well such things happen 🤷

English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes 🙏

Azriel didn't bother to think things over. Not now. Y/N was safe in his arms, but it meant nothing. It could be late.. He didn't want to think about it because it would mean a great pain. Because it would shatter his whole being. He pulled her closer to his strong chest and rather concentrated on flapping his wings. He flew up back to the balcony she fell from. Anxiety was eating him alive so he couldn't wait any longer and needed to make sure. Slowly and carefully he put her on the floor while making a list of necessary steps to follow.

First step: check her vital functions. Holding his breath he lightly pushed two shaking fingers to the pulse point on her throat, soon moving them under her nose. When he was sure she was breathing and her heartbeats were steady, he sighed with relieve. Y/N was alive. Still alive. He felt a big stone falling off of his chest, suddenly feeling bit lighter. Azriel closed eyes for a moment exhaling shakily. He took several deep breaths trying to calm down the shiver and his too rapid heartbeats. He had to concentrate.

Second step: look for injuries. For who knows what reason she was unconscious. Y/N could have been hurt before she fell or during it. Carefully touching her body he checked her for injuries and fractures.  Another sigh of relieve left him as he didn't find any blood, lumps, bruises nor broken bones. Shallow breaths was the only abnormality he detected. After considering everything possible Azriel came to the conclusion that there is only one reason for this. Y/N had to pass out because she was scared. But why was there a smile on her face? It was so long since he saw her smile like this. It didn't make sense. Pushing it aside he decided to think about it later.

Third step: get her warm. Gently Azriel picked her up in a bridal style and took her into the House. He couldn't help it. His arms tightened around her flabby body. He always thought Y/N was petite, but holding her like this she seemed even more fragile and smaller. During joint dinners she ate so little that it made him worried whether she was enough fed. And now Azriel could clearly state that Y/N certainly wasn't. She was so light he could hold her in one arm without any troubles.

Standing in the corridor he hesitated. Azriel wanted to take Y/N to her room, but just then he realized he had no idea where to go. She lived together with priestesses above the library, but he'd never let himself nor his shadows enter their private part of the House. He also didn't want anybody to find out what happened to her for understandable reasons. It was up to Y/N to decide if she wants inner circle and others to know about it.

After debating with himself whether he should take her to his or some vacant room, Azriel decided his room would be better. Despite everything, nobody ever dared to invade his privacy without his permission. Not even his brothers.

He struck down the corridor while the shadows helped him opening the door and then closed it silently. They even rolled the covers on the bed aside and took out a blanket from his closet. They seemed to be just as worried as their master, lightly touching her skin and caressing her forehead. Usually Azriel would hold them close to his body, afraid they would scare Y/N or make her feel uncomfortable, but now he just let them do as they pleased.

Carefully Azriel laid Y/N on the bed and pulled the covers up, wrapping her tightly in. He stopped to look at her face. Y/N looked so beautiful and calm. How many times he imagined her in his bed.. Watching her peaceful sleep.. Touching her delicate skin.. Pressing her body to his.. And now she was here right in his bed, her scent mixing with his own. Azriel noted to himself to make sure the House doesn't change the sheets until her scent completely fades out and maybe not even then.

He reached out and tucked few stray locks of hair behind her ear. They were so soft, much softer than he imagined. Suddenly the realization of what he had just done hit him hard. After long years of dreaming he touched her. For real this time. And he even held her in his arms. Shocked Azriel retreated few steps from the bed, bumping into an armchair under the window. Slowly he sat down. His mouth went dry and his heart pounded like crazy. In disbelief he gazed at his scarred hands. As he finally processed that information, a small smile found its way to his face.

A glass of water appeared on the nightstand next to the bed. The House sent him a reminder.

Fourth step: hydrate. Even unconscious Y/N might be in shock and in need of water. He stood up moving back towards the bed and hesitantly sat down on the edge of the mattress next to her. Slowly Azriel lifted up her head, this time being well aware of every little touch. With heart thundering in his chest he enjoyed the sensation of her smooth skin and soft hair in his rough palm. Azriel wanted to memorize it all, so he could replay these feelings later. This was the first and most likely the last time he can touch her. Once Y/N awakes she would leave and avoid him as before.

He reached out for the glass and halted thinking about the best way how to get the water into her mouth. As unusual as it was, Azriel was nervous which caused a slight tremor of his hands. He didn't want to pour out the glass on her. If only there was a spoon. But it wasn't the only way. His gaze settled on her full lips. Sweet, lovely and gently rounded like two petals of pink rose. Breath caught in his throat as cold sweat ran down his spine. He felt torn. Should he ask the House for spoon or.. Azriel swallowed decided the guilt can torture him later.

He took water into his mouth, but ended up drinking it himself. He was too nervous. Taking several deep breaths he tried it one more time. Leaning over Y/N his lips pressed into hers. Little by little he let the water flow into her mouth. His eyes closed. 'Oh, Mother,' he cursed mentally. Literally everything about Y/N was much better than he'd ever imagined. Her sweet floral scent mixed with smell of old parchment and ink messed with his head and senses making him stay in this position even after all water was gone. Gods, if he could.. If only she allowed him.. Azriel rather pulled away before doing something really bad.

It was too many feelings and thoughts at once. He needed more space and time to think this all over. He didn't believe that he would be able to keep himself under the control near Y/N, so he retrieved back to the armchair under the window. There had to be some way. No way he could continue to live like before, to keep the distance. Not after he got to touch her and taste her.

The shadows swallowed Azriel leaving him to his thoughts.

[hiddenonyx]

[World Building] Pact Headcanons

A/N: these are WORLDBUILDING headcanons, not specific headcanons to characters - meaning that this is a bit more technical(ish) talk than cute and fluffy; I’ll eventually do a character based pact headcanon post. I did my best to organize these in a logical, flowing sense, but ehhh. I may come back to this to add stuff, but here’s my word vomit for now.

Word count: 644

Pacts are magical scars on a human’s soul and skin. These scars contain the magical signature of the demon they belong to. The stronger the demon, the more noticeable the signature is. Because the signature is noticeable to other inherently other magical beings, most other beings will leave the human alone, generally not wanting a confrontation with the demon(s) associated with the pact mark(s). However, this can be the opposite case, where another demon threatens a human to try and draw the demon who made a pact with them into a fight.

Pact marks tie the human’s soul to the demon’s inherent magic self (demons do not have souls per say). This allows the human to draw on the demon’s inherent magic to enhance their conventional magic (magic types post tba), or summon the demon themselves. Demons can use their pact marks to gain vague senses of where their human is and an idea of their general state of being. When/should the human die, the demon gets their soul. If a human has multiple pacts, generally either the strongest demon or the demon with the strongest positive relationship with the human gets their soul (though fights are likely to break out).

Because of how the magical tie between the human’s soul and the demon’s inherent magical self work, if a pact bond is broken or severed, it can never be reformed. It is theorized that the human soul becomes immuned the demon’s inherent magic, but this theory hasn’t been confirmed.

Pacts marks, by default, are only really noticeable soon after receiving one; for about two to three weeks. After that time period the skin should fully heal, leaving only a faint mark on the skin - nearly invisible to all but those with the most attentive eyes and knowledge of the demonic. Some humans may choose to “ink” their pact marks to make them more visible - using magic ink that adheres to the magical signature of the marking which makes the mark appear tattoo-like (Solomon has done this for every pact mark he has). There is a wide selection of ink colors that one may choose from, should they decide to ink a pact mark.

As hinted above, pact marks hurt upon receival; after all they are described as scars. The sensation is best described as a burning sensation, more intense the stronger the demon. During its healing period (2-3 weeks) the skin the mark is placed on feels akin to a sunburn - tender, itchy, and overall uncomfortable. The skin will not bleed or blister however. Where the mark is placed may also influence the pain and discomfort. While that might influence where a demon places their mark, most demons have a preferred spot on a human’s body that they’ll leave their mark on, regardless of how the recovery will feel.

Once healed, pact marks are tingly to the touch; when touched they “hum” softly with magical energy (which may startle or surprise an unknowing human ehe). Generally the tingly sensation is light and gentle, just strong enough to be felt. However if the demon who placed the mark touches it the feeling amplifies and is significantly more noticeable, also invoking a warm and comfortable feeling in the human. Many demons will touch their pact marks to provide a sense of closeness or comfort.

It is considered taboo (and flat out disrespectful) to leave markings, such as hickeys or love bites, on other demons’ pact marks. While not considered so to do so on one’s own mark, many demons prefer to leave their own marks untouched and visible.  

Demons cannot form pacts with each other or other magical beings. They must form contacts (post for that tba) with each other, which have a different set of behaviors. Pacts, contracts, and devotion marks are all different, and operate on different levels of magic. 

[maraschinomerry]

How about a George Karim x reader where they have made it a routine to sneak into each other’s bedroom to cuddle when one of them can’t sleep (it started after one draining case) but they never told Lockwood and Lucy bc they knew they would never hear the end of it

I've Got Your Back

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Content: emotional hurt/comfort, angsty conversations in fluffy situations, breakdowns, Lockwood being Lockwood

A/N: oh wow this one got away from me a bit 😅 I wanted to do something super fluffy originally, but with the idea of it starting after a bad case I ended up leaning into the angst, hope that's okay! If you'd prefer something soft please let me know and I'll happily write another

Word count: 3.5k

The first time you found yourself in George's room was after your first Type Two case as a member of Lockwood & Co. Type Ones were second nature to you by this point, but you'd never dealt with anything more severe without supervision. Safe to say, you'd come away shaken.

It had been hours since you'd all returned, exhausted, and made your way to your rooms, but sleep continued to evade you. You tried everything - quiet music, hugging your pillow, distracting your mind by making lists of random things, duvet on, duvet off, on your back, on your side… Finally, a little after 4am, you surrendered and dragged yourself down the stairs towards the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was still and silent, save for the ticking from the hallway clock. You only made it as far as the landing before your body gave up and you slumped onto the unforgiving wood of the bottom step, fighting back tears as your breathing grew quicker. Thank god everyone else was asleep so they didn't have to deal with you like this. They were all greatly experienced agents and from what they’d seen they were impressed by both your abilities and your unflappability, so it was slightly embarrassing how much this had affected you.

Like some kind of horrible universal retribution, the door beside you clicked open. You frantically wiped your eyes as George emerged from his dimly lit room. His hair was particularly dishevelled and he wasn't wearing his glasses… or trousers, for that matter. He blinked at you, a mixture of blindness and confusion.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered. There was a wobble in your voice that you prayed was less obvious than you thought. Perhaps you only noticed it because you were expecting to hear it, perhaps George would think you were just tired. "Did I wake you?"

He frowned. "No, why would you-" It suddenly clicked as he peered closer. "Have you been crying?"

"No." Something in his face encouraged your honesty: "Not quite."

George was motionless for a moment. Then, he pushed his bedroom door open a little further and gestured inside. "Okay, go and get comfortable, I'll make tea once I've been to the toilet. Give me five minutes, non-metaphorical." There was a pause. "Will you be okay until then?" What a thoughtful question. He was normally so blunt and rational, you hadn’t expected him to consider exactly what state you were in after such a short interaction, or certainly not to act on it like that. You sniffled but nodded, and the two of you passed within a breath of one another as you swapped places in his doorway. His hand ghosted across your back between your shoulder blades as he directed you in, barely there and yet somehow the only tangible thing in your world at that moment. Your breath caught in your throat. The sensation lingered long after his footsteps had padded down the stairs.

Left alone in George's room, you took the chance to look around properly. You'd seen inside before whenever you popped your head in to speak to him, but now you could take it all in - the lamp on top of his crowded bookshelf emitting a warm glow across the sage green walls, neatly folded stack of laundry waiting to be put away, oval mirror on the chimney breast making you uncomfortably aware of how much of a wreck you looked with puffy eyes and hair tangled in frustration. Everything about the room was so… so George.

He'd said to get comfy, but you couldn't help but feel like you were invading his personal space. After a rapid internal argument over whether to slink back to your own room, you decided that would be rude since George had invited you in and gone to make tea, so you settled awkwardly at the end of his bed, feet planted on the floor.

Five minutes later, as promised, George tiptoed back in with two steaming mugs, kicking the door closed behind him. You thanked him as you wrapped your hands around the one he offered, while he placed his on the bedside table and relaxed back against his pillows.

"You look like you're about to bolt," he observed. That wasn't inaccurate; you were right at the edge of the mattress, feet pointing to the door and heel bouncing anxiously. He softened. "Take up whatever space you need. And if you don't want to talk about whatever had you tearing up on the stairs, that's fine, but I'm right here if you do."

You brought your feet up to sit cross-legged and sipped your tea while you worked up the courage to tell the truth (it was such good tea, too, you didn't know how he always got it just right). George did the same, not pushing matters for a second.

Eventually, you felt a little more comfortable, knowing you weren't being scrutinised. You tried to find the words more than once, faltering each time. Still, George waited patiently. They came at last: "Tonight was my first proper Type Two. I know I dealt with some in training and it shouldn't bother me, but I can't stop thinking about everything that could have gone wrong and if something happened to one of you…" You'd only been with the agency a month, but already you considered Lockwood, Lucy and George family over even your own parents, who had seemed almost relieved when you moved away. They were far more supportive, more understanding of you as a person, more respectful of your Talent. You could never forgive yourself for being the reason they got hurt, or worse. The pace of your heartbeat started to pick up again, thundering in your chest and ears.

"Hey, listen, breathe with me," George said gently as he sat forward to get your attention. You didn't even realise you were starting to fall back into the thoughts, let alone that George had noticed, so before you knew it you were following his slow, deep rhythm. His eyes, dark and lined with exhaustion and concern, didn't leave yours. He spoke again as he guided you. "We're all okay, and the whole point of being a team is we have each other's backs. It's not all on you to keep us safe, we all have to help, but it is on us to make sure you don't end up physically or mentally at risk. So if anything like this happens again, I hope you feel like you can come to me. Preferably without having to sit outside first."

The last part made you giggle. "Deal. And the same goes for you, my door is always open."

George smiled. "Thanks. For now though, get some rest, we can't have you falling asleep on the job." At this, he pulled back the other corner of his duvet. Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. "There's plenty of room," he explained like it was perfectly obvious, "and I don't like the idea of you going back upstairs on your own. If you're okay with this, of course."

The blush that crept up his cheeks reflected the one you felt on yours, and you tried your best to act natural as you put your mug to one side and slipped under the covers. George kept a respectable distance, but the warmth of his body still radiated towards you and lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

You awoke to the first rays of daylight filtering through an unfamilar window. As your eyelids fluttered open, you found yourself in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar light pressure across your stomach and back. Cautiously, you turned your head. George was pressed up against you, face buried in your hair and arm draped across you. Your legs were so tangled it was hard to feel where you ended and he began. In the back of your mind you knew you should leave, get back to your own room before Lockwood or Lucy came and found you together, but this was the most relaxed you'd felt since becoming an agent. Besides, if you waited, George could check the coast was clear without arousing suspicion. That was a good enough excuse to stay. You brought your hand up, linking fingers with the boy's hand that hung across your stomach. A hum of contentment sounded from within your hair, echoing through your skull. You fell asleep once more with a lazy grin.

—

It happened a few more times over the next few months. You'd sneak into each other's rooms for comfort or company - it wasn't always about being scared or anxious after a case, just if one of you was having trouble sleeping or needed your mind taking off anything from research to thoughts about your family to whether you'd forgotten something on the grocery list. The two of you knew how each other ticked so it was easy to offer reassurance or support, and ending the night in each other's arms quickly grew to be one of your greatest comforts. George was an unusual sleeper, switching between curling up on his side and splaying across the whole bed like a starfish, but you found that no matter what, you were always able to slot against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. On most occasions you were the little spoon so that George could spread out behind you if he needed to, but even if he was in your arms and wriggled out, you would just snuggle back into his side with your head on his chest. It had also become second nature to make sure both bedroom doors were closed when you were together so Lockwood and Lucy would never get the opportunity to spot you in passing or find one of your rooms empty and go searching in a panic. They'd be happy for you, of course they would, but they'd be utterly insufferable about it and you were pretty sure you'd end up having to burn the Thinking Cloth as a precaution.

—

One night, just shy of six months into your time at 35 Portland Row, you were awoken by a tapping which perfectly matched the secret rhythm you'd established with George. You gave a groggy greeting, letting him know you were awake. His curly-haired silhouette appeared as he nudged the door open, but didn't move any further into the room. Normally he’d have been straight over, so his stillness set alarm bells blaring but you suspected you already had an explanation.

You'd become separated from the group on the case earlier that night. It hadn't bothered you at all, in fact you didn't even know it had happened until Lockwood told you later: you'd gone through a hatch in the corner of the kitchen to the basement, rummaging through boxes for the Source, and the rest of the group had moved through to the dining room when the kitchen door slammed shut behind them and refused to budge. For a terrifying moment, all they could think of was you, alone with a Visitor. As it turned out, it had locked you away to give them less backup, not the other way round, and they fought it off while you were completely oblivious (though you did manage to contain its Source). The team had told you what happened but having not been in the moment you hadn't been as rattled by it.

"George?" you asked into the darkness. When he didn't respond, you moved to him. Up close he was easier to see, a sliver of light from the hallway catching the edges of his features. His eyes were wide, lower lip trembling as he took one shaky breath after another. Actually, his entire body was trembling.

"Oh, Georgie," you murmured, heart breaking a little. You reached out to him. He flinched until his eyes refocused and he saw it was you, then immediately pulled you into a crushing hug. As his head buried in your shoulder he began to sob, and you wrapped your arms around him to rub soothingly at his back. Carefully, you closed the door with your foot and, still hugging him tightly, led him towards the bed. You had no choice but to pull away as you got into position, but took his hands to maintain the connection and as soon as you were leaning against the headboard he followed, crumpling against your chest. He mumbled something into your pyjama top, voice so quiet and broken by tearful hiccups that you didn't quite catch it.

"What did you say?"

He sat up, eyes fixed on your face like you might vanish if he so much as blinked. Somehow knowing that you hadn't heard him the first time made it harder to repeat. "I,  um... I said I was scared. What happened today made me realise how easy it would be to lose one of us, to lose you." The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks: he hadn't just come to you for comfort this time, he was here to make sure you were okay, that you were actually there and not just the product of a hopeful imagination. Not much wonder he was so much more physical than usual (eventual cuddling aside, he was never the touchiest person).

Taking the hint, you brought one hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch as you wiped away his tears with your thumb. Your other hand began to comb through his curls, brushing them away from his face. "I'm here, Georgie, see? I'm okay." He mimicked your movements, stroking your hair to prove your words to himself. "Remember what you said?" you continued. "We're a team, and I know you guys would have done everything you could." You both knew what you weren't saying - that even then, it might not have been enough, but that was the way of the job and the last thing you wanted was for him to blame himself. "And you did - you fought it off which kept it distracted, I never would have had time to find the Source without you."

"And we'd still be fighting it now if you hadn't kept looking. You had our backs too." This was good. That wonderful, logical brain of his was fighting back against the panic. If he could out-reason someone as headstrong as Lockwood, which you'd seen him do more than once, he could do the same to himself. He'd stopped crying at least, but he was still almost vibrating with energy and in no position to take the lead.

You shifted down the mattress until your head was on the pillow and opened your arms. George looked dazed, not processing what you were doing. In fact, he almost seemed to be receding into his oversized T-shirt. He was in a worse state than you'd first thought, too deep in his own mind to clamber out on his own. No amount of baseless reassurance would help at this point. You sighed. "Look, I know there's not really anything I can say that will convince you everything's okay." Something flickered behind his eyes. "The fact is, nothing's ever really okay in a job like this, and that sucks. We have good and bad days, but it's inevitable that something's going to happen to one of us eventually, whether that's on a case or entirely unrelated."

"This is the worst motivational speech ever," George muttered, and you couldn't help but snort. If he was making snarky remarks, that meant he was coming back into himself. You stayed laying down, but reached up and took his hand. He squeezed once, firmly, before settling into a loose grip with his thumb massaging small circles on the back of yours.

"If you'd let me finish, what I'm trying very unsuccessfully to say is that you're never going to be to blame. I know how important your research is to you and you do such an amazing job, honestly we'd be far worse off without you, so the fact that there are so many things in life that we can't change or prevent no matter how prepared we are... that's terrifying," you paused as your voice cracked at the thought, a hidden anxiety of your own unveiled, "but you don't have to deal with it alone. If all this is just fate or circumstance, isn't it a good sign that the universe has given us the people who matter enough that we're willing to try anyway?"

You had no idea where you'd been going with that, blindly trying to find a way to be encouraging without avoiding the root of the issue. You just had to hope that it would resonate with George in the right way and not push him further into the darkness. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, waiting for his reaction.

He moved.

You held your breath.

He folded into your arms with a faint but genuine smile. "Yeah, it is pretty good."

Your entire body relaxed. Hesitantly, testing the waters, you placed a soft kiss into his curls. All these nights in such close proximity had made you especially fond of the scent of his shampoo - lemongrass, paired with a sandalwood body wash - and you savoured the opportunity to breathe him in. "I can't be too mad at a world that lets us do this. No matter what it throws at us, we know it can't possibly mean it."

George squirmed a bit, and you were worried you'd gone too far with the kiss or said the wrong thing. But then he spoke. "Can we switch? Just so I can see you." That made sense. It would be more apparent that you were alright that way, plus you couldn’t deny you loved how safe his embrace made you feel. You let go, both turning together until it was you in his arms. As you stilled, you felt warm breath against the back of your head followed by equally warm lips.

As the pull of sleep grew stronger, George thought fondly about the people the universe had given him. There was you, constant and calming, the reason for his worry and the solution for it. There was Lucy, who from the offset had matched him in wit and eventually in devotion to their friendship. And of course, there was Lockwood, his best friend and the real reason you were all here, universal intervention or not. Lockwood, who could annoy him from across the corridor or appease him from the other end of the house. Actually, that was something. Not once since this started had Lockwood, with his blatant disregard for normal hours and habitual need to throw things at George's door, accidentally barged in on the two of you together. Perhaps the universe was involved after all.

—

Lucy, clad in a blue jumper over her pyjamas and the fuzziest socks she owned, raised her hand to knock on your door, wondering if you were awake to lend her some paracetamol from the little first aid box in your wardrobe as she'd run out and had a splitting headache. She would be surprised if anyone could sleep on a night like this, it was bitterly cold out on the landing and your room wouldn’t be much better unless you’d managed to steal one of the blankets from the library. A second before her fist connected with the wood, a hand grabbed her wrist and she turned defensively. A fully dressed Lockwood hastily released his grip and raised a finger to his lips in a silent hush. He nodded down the landing, leading her away to where they could speak without causing a disturbance.

"What's going on?" she frowned.

"You can't interrupt. George is in there."

Lucy's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "How do you know?! Wait, are they...?"

He stifled a laugh and shook his head. "No, no, it's just a comfort thing. They've been doing it for months."

"Okay, that only answers the second question."

Lockwood thought back, relaying the tale as he went along. He'd gone to check on you that very first night, wanting to make sure you weren't too affected by the Type Two. Seeing your door ajar and room empty had been enough to make him nervous, and not being able to find you in the kitchen, library or basement made matters worse. As a last resort, he barged into George's room, ready to ask if the other boy had been told of your plans or heard any movement to suggest you'd gone out. The sight he'd been met with had simultaneously quelled his nerves and set them alight - you and George, fast asleep in each other's embrace. Thank goodness Lockwood was so light on his feet and averse to knocking. He crept back out, vowing to always make sure in future that you were in your respective rooms before following through on his beloved pastime of winding George up.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Window Conversation

Author’s Note: This is the next in Cedric’s adventures in Ancient Terra. First. Previous.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @kit-williams

Warnings: none? Ask me to tag, if something makes you uncomfortable

Summary: Cedric is grounded from exploring the human city he’s in, so he is content to look out a window and people watch. He’s approached by a Salamander Scout Captain and they chat.

Cedric stared longingly out of the window of the base that he'd been confined to for the past week and a half, as part of his punishment for dealing with the heretics... Allied Heretics, rudely. The fact that there were allied heretics was... It was wrong. It was against much of what he had been taught.  It had been the forces of chaos that had killed untold trillions of innocents and corrupting ten times as many during the Horus Heresy, and the many Black Crusades that had followed. Chaos had created the Cicatrix Maledictum that split the galaxy in half, corrupted half of the Holy Primarchs and killing all but one of the Loyal Primarchs. Those Chaos-tainted Primarchs were some of the most dangerous threats still existing against the Imperium.

He had been reminded by one of the Chaplains he was working under to Atone for his rudeness of how few Marines were on Ancient Terra, of the few resources that any of them had, and the fractious nature of the human nation-states who ruled Ancient Terra. He'd been shown proof of all of this, and that even the most chaos-corrupted Marines who were allied with the Loyalists on Ancient Tera had a better grip of their unholy instincts and bastardized natures... Particularly after they had been Bonded with a human. No one would give him a good explanation as to what a Bond was, only that he would Know when or if he would find his human to bond with.. That these bonds domesticated the twisted parodies that the chaos marines had become. 

Cedric couldn't muster up the Faith to believe that all of that was possible. That all of the groxshit that had been so earnestly fed to him by several Loyal older brothers wasn't some insidious Chaotic plot to get them to lower their guard in order to fuck them over and slaughter them all while taking over Ancient Terra... To ensure that the Imperium of Man never rose, or if it did, The Imperium would be a bastion of Chaos and misery, rather than of Order and the Emperor's Light. He didn't want to believe that the loyalists had been fooled so completely...

But to try to begin to believe all of this - that the chaos astartes who had allied with the loyalists weren't plotting to stab them all in the back the moment that they felt that they had gotten everything that they wanted out of this arrangement made his head and his hearts hurt.  The very thought that loyalist and chaos astartes could peacefully coexist with one another... It was almost enough to drive Cedric to madness.

Or to incredible, bloody violence. 

Especially against those smug, prancing, gaudy purple Slaaneshi bastards. Cedric could see several of them dancing around the humans who were walking amongst them, fearless. Unaware that they were being exposed to beings whose very presence was corrosive and toxic and -

"Cedric, are you glaring at random people out the window and growling again?" Ash'val asked, the Salamander looking at him in a very judgmental manner when Cedric managed to drag his eyes away from the Slaaneshi Bastards.

Rude. Not that the young Apothecary would speak up against the well-loved and deeply respected Scout captain. He blinked at the other and took a breath, realizing that he had been making a low, rumbling sound in his chest and stopped the sound from continuing before he managed out "I... Uhm... I didn't mean to growl? I... I just..." Fuck, where did his words go? He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his vigilant watchfulness moments ago... Cedric found himself unable to look the older space marine in the eye, bowing his head a little to avoid the other's gaze.

"You seem to have a particular problem with Slaaneshi Marines." Ash'val noted. The scout captain reached out slowly and placed a reassuring hand on one of Cedric's shoulders "You've gone through a lot of changes in a very short period of time and been given a lot of information that would... Be seen as impossible at best, or heretical nonsense worthy of execution after a visit from the Inquisition at worst. But shoving your nose to a window and growling at random marines wandering by isn't going to help you adjust to all of these changes. And I imagine that you're starting to get pretty restless being stuck inside all day with little to do, other than training and chores."

"I... I understand why I've been confined to base, sir." Cedric answered, shuffling his feet a little. The stern reprimand that he'd gotten from his rude behavior towards both chaos marines and how his hostility could put the tentative alliance between the loyalists and the chaos warbands at risk still rung in his ears a week and a half later.... And one of the last things he wanted to do while planetside on a beautiful and peaceful day like this was stay inside and do fuck-all when there was a forest an easy three-hour jog from here where Cedric was pretty sure he could go hunting and foraging for fresh food, rather than the nutrient pastes that while nutritious, weren't nearly as satisfying as a meal made with fresh ingredients. But until he could prove that he could handle interacting with Filthy Chaotic Traitors without resorting to unprovoked violence within five minutes... Not just that, but he could not show any outward sings of hostility when interacting with Filthy Chaotic Traitors, including a change in scent. "... I am still fairly certain that I was being... Cordial. At least to the World Eater. I didn't threaten him or his human once, nor did I try to harm either of them - not that I would have struck out at the child unless forced to... I do admit that I did restrain the Slaaneshi sc-... Marine, but that was for the health and safety of everyone in the building. The poison he was dripping from his hands is incredibly dangerous and corruptive at a soul-deep level."

Ash'val hummed a little before lifting the hand on Cedric's shoulder to ruffle his hair "This is true, however you should have explained to Elam why you were taping jars to his hands... What you did was tackle him to the ground and tape jars to his hands while refusing to explain until one of the other Apothecaries asked you why you'd done it. And you kept Elam in a headlock until directly ordered to let him go by our head apothecary. Emperor's Children - and Elam in particular - tend to be cooperative with Apothecaries and he was being on his best behavior."

"The last time before I met this... Elam, where Slaaneshi worshippers were wielding that particularly potent poison, I lost a squad brother, and my chapter lost dozens of Battle Brother to that poison. And we were fighting against baseline human Slaaneshi worshippers. I shudder to think how much damage an Astartes Slaaneshi worshipper with a possibly endless supply of The Poison of Vainglory could do. He was a clear and present threat and even then, I used a minimal amount of force in containment of such a threat." Cedric huffed, scowling at the floor, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. He knew that if he... Capitulated to... Apologizing to the Slaaneshi Marine for the way he had handled him, his time grounded in the base would be halved - or at least, that is what he had been promised.

But the very thought of doing so, of betraying his brothers' memories like that... Comiting such a sin against the God Emperor and the Imperium was more than what the Primaris Black Templar could bear. He'd been told that things her on ancient Terra were very different... But the very thought of apologizing was enough to make him physically ill. So he was going to patiently and penitently wait out the time that he had been sentenced to in the base without complained. He trained when allowed, helped keep things tidy (It was part of his punishment, actually. To aid in the maintenance of the base and the cleanliness... To cook in the kitchens, as well as other similar tasks. He wasn't sure why they were part of his punishment, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. He was surprised that he hadn't been beaten or whipped, for the amount of lecturing he'd gotten for his misconduct against allied chaos Space marines. It felt strange, and like an oversight, but Cedric wasn't going to complain about it, either).

"How would you feel if someone tackled and pined you to the floor because of the very health symptom you were seeking treatment for?" The Salamander Scout Captain prodded.

Cedric tilted his head a little in confusion. He was baffled by this. The young apothecary had heard that Firstborn Salamanders were soft-touches, but this was one of the questions that had One Correct Answer, and to misspeak was a trap. He answered earnestly "I would submit to anything that was being done to me without struggle or complaint, sir, as whoever did that has good reasoning to do as what they are doing, and to struggle would mean that I am fighting treatment, sir." Which means long hours of repentance at best, after the treatment was concluded at best... At worst fighting treatment - especially when one was clearly tainted by Chaos meant that he would be culled and sent to the Emperor's side before the Chaos could corrupt his soul further. The Mechanicum - and his older Black Templar brothers had both made that very clear during his training with them. "Provided, of course, the person doing the tackling and treatment is a loyalist, of course. Otherwise I would fight to free myself."

"Even if you were worried that this other loyalist may be tryign to hurt or kill you?" Ash'val asked, a complicated series of emotions flashing across the older marine's face before settling on concern for reasons Cedric couldn't begin to guess.

"If I have committed a sin, or breach of conduct, or was exposed to something that was corrupting me, or could potentially corrupt me, yes. I would still submit to treatment, if I was in full command of my senses. The Slaaneshi poisons alter one's mind, as well as body, as well as certain Nurglite diseases and Tzeenchian curses. And of course, The Infectious Rages of Khorne." Cedric responded, knowing the Correct Response to this question as well. Not that he didn't mean what he was saying as well. "Even if I was unaware of what crime or sin I committed, or if I did not know what I had recently encountered was so corrupting."

"I... I see. A large part of your training involved adherence to orders, I am guessing? apart from your combat and medical training." The scout captain asked. The older marine's face was free of emotion, but his voice was strangely shaky.

"Yes sir. Obeying orders is important, no matter one's personal feelings on the orders given to them." Cedric answered earnestly. Orders were to be obeyed, though were also subject to change. Especially on the battlefield where preliminary orders - like plans - went to die as soon as contact with the enemy was made.

:"Oh. Okay. I've got another question for you: are you a Primaris Marine?" The Salamander Scout captain asked, looking oddly intense as he asked it. "You're one of a handful of known Primaris Marines in this era, if you are. And by whom were you trained?"

"As with all Primaris Marines so far in my tie period, I was strictly trained by the Adeptus Mechanicus. They told me that I trained on Mars, specifically in their Astartes gene-labs." Cedric answered honestly. Disobedience had been harshly punished by both the Mechanicus and his Black Templar older brothers, though in different ways. The punishments here were much lighter and easier to handle. Not that Cedric intended on misbehaving to the point of testing their mercy He wasn't trying to cause problems... Though that never mattered to the Mechanicus or the Black Templars... And the Astartes here had given him more leeway than he'd ever been given. It was making Cedric nervous as to what might happen if he found the end of these marines' patience for misconduct.

"Ah. The... The mechanicus operates in a very specific way, and though what they do works for them... As for we Astartes... We are supposed to be trained in a different matter. Not that you're wrong for behaving for how you've been taught, given that I'm guessing that no one's really gone over our expectations for marines staying with us." Ash'val mused, looking Cedric over assessingly. "Follow me to my office. We're going to talk about what expectations you've been working under, and I'll explain in detail the rules of the base and for allied astartes, that way you're not tripped up by anything."

"Yes sir." Cedric responded, giving the Salamander a salute, obediently following after him.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for saying that I was worried a friend might be making his mental state worse

I (F18) and my now previous best friend (M18) have been friends since 7th grade, and graduated just last year. My friend has had mental issues for as long as we've been friends (anxiety, depression, DID) and has always been very, very drug adverse. Going as far as having drugs mentioned making him really uncomfortable for years and years. But this last year, our senior year, he started getting really friendly with the idea of starting to smoke. This caused an argument between us, as weed is known for causing mental issues to get worse, specifically its known for causing early onset psychosis, and considering he's had episodes similar before I was worried it would make things worse for him. He told me to step back and get out of his business. So I did.

About a month or so after this, he texted me and said that he was experiencing knee pain and asked if when I got to school (I was running late) if he could have some Tylenol, (I have a medical issue and I have to keep anti inflammatory's on my person or i risk paralyzation) and i said yes, because why wouldn't I, me and him have given one another over the counter pain meds all the time in the past. I had a brand new bottle of 250 pills of 500mg dosage, and well I was pulling out the bottle, I asked how many he wanted, (so I could give him one or two) but he asked if I could just hand him the bottle because both of us we're late to class and he didn't wanna be too late. And, as he's borrowed bottles of pain meds from me before for years, I said sure.

A little over an hour later I was called to the front office, where the bottle was placed onto the desk, and the administrator asked if it was mine, and I said yes, because it was my bottle of tylenol. and she gave it back to me, and told me to go back to class, I asked if my friend was in the nurses office or something, but she just told me to go to class. and that they dont give out medical information on students

I texted my friend asking what happened but he never answered, So at this point, I was freaking out. I texted his younger sister and asked if he was ok (we're also friends) but she didnt know that anything happened at all. At this point I entered a class I have multiple friends in and started having a meltdown worrying for the worst. his sister called their mom, and relayed to me that he was in the hospital. I poured out the entire bottle of tylenol and counted out every single one of them to find out that he took 12 500mg pills of Tylenol

I was called to the office again they had me give them all of my tylenol, and then they asked for any other drugs i had, I told them I don't have drugs, and then they confiscated my ibuprofen and the benydryl I keep on my person, and then because I kept them in my first aid kit, they confiscated my bandaids and neosporin.

he lived, was diagnosed with bpd, schizophrenia, and somethging else i dont remember. and there was a huge problem with the school, and they put me down as a drug dealer, made me do meetings with the student handler, called my parents. Its only the fact his mom didnt press charges that kept me from going to court. I suffered with severe guilt problems for months and months, relapsed into hurting myself, and it was just. bad. (months later, he went on to try to kill himself again, this time by overdosing on his perscribed anxiety meds in the school a second time)

during this time, he would start ghosting my messages, and when I asked him about it, he told me he wasn't mad at me, told me he didnt have any issues with me, he just felt bad we hadn't hung out in a while. So, I scheduled to hang out. and he cancelled. 5 times in a row. when driving a mutual friend home, I was discussing that I was frustrated, and worried about him. During this, I mentioned the argument we had about him smoking, and I mentioned that I thought it might be related to his mental state worsening. (he stopped smoking after the first suicide attempt) (and started smoking again a few monthes before the second attempt)

over the summer i would invite him to hang out several times, he declined every time, he invited me to hang out, but it felt like he intentionally planned for times he knew I couldn't make it for. (continualy on the day I work every week) Or on the few times we could. I would show up, and he would leave within the next 30 minutes, even if we had planed beforehand to be doing somethign for a while.

when I messaged him about 3 month ago (after three consecutive failed hang outs in a row) I found he had blocked me on everything. phone number, discord, instagram, tumblr. With no message, no word, didn't tell me at all what I did wrong or what hapened

just tonight I found out that he blocked me and wont interact with me because He says, that I said that it was his own fault that he tried to kill himself and that he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. (not what he said, he wont talk to me, I heard through third party source, so theres a chance that im not getting the message right)

I feel this isnt what I said at all. but, idk, I feel very guilty about it, I want to apologize to him. but I don't know how, its not like i can message him, and we dont ever see each other anymore because were graduated and doing different things.

am i the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[furiousgoldfish]

Hi, just a little reminder to everyone who has attempted to message me or talk to me, and didn't get a reply or didn't get a reply they wanted.

I often have people messaging me expecting instant friendship and emotional support and talking to me as if we already knew each other. I don't think this is done with ill intent, but I do want to gently remind everyone that we are complete strangers when interacting online, and that I cannot grant anyone instant friendship; to me you are a person I don't know. I will talk to you as a stranger would. Even if you've been reading my words and taking solace and imagining a friend telling them to you, to me you are someone I've never met or known, and I cannot function as an emotional support on a personal level to strangers. It ultimately is not helpful for you to convince yourself that a stranger on the internet is your personal friend, or to push that stranger into trying to act the part; I am unable to fulfill this role. I am not emotionally well myself, and I do not have a support system, so being put in a situation where I'm expected to be one for a stranger feels unhealthy.

Another thing I'd love for everyone to remember is, that I don't have all of the answers. I love to help where I can, but ultimately I am a person in a lot of distress, trying to deal with multiple disorders without any access to therapy or even friends who understand what I'm going thru. I am isolated and posting on this blog is often all I have. If I knew how to get rid of trauma, how to deal with disorders, how to not be sick or in pain, how to evade abuse or how to feel okay, I would use this advice to fix my own life. But I am sadly, lost like the rest of us.

There are times where I am in too much distress to talk to anyone, if you sent me a message and it went unanswered, it is very likely that I was in a state so bad I could not communicate. I will usually recover from it within several weeks, but by that time I feel bad even reminding someone they've sent me a message, it feels asinine to try and reply so late. And it reminds me of the period where I felt bad looking at the message, unable to respond. I'm not ignoring messages on purpose. If you try again some time later, you're likely to get a reply, if I'm in a good state of mind.

However, if you send me a big number of messages at once, start talking about your issues without asking if it's okay first, send several messages without a reply and then keep sending them and demanding a reply, put pressure on me to communicate with you, try to guilt me into giving you an answer you want, or assuming I'm maliciously ignoring you, you've made me uncomfortable and I have to listen to my instincts and stop talking to you.

I am sensitive to anger, aggression, ranting, swearing, slur-use, and doing that in a conversation with me it will make me feel threatened. Because we're strangers, and any stranger acting like I'm an acceptable target to take their anger at is dangerous. We are not friends, and dealing with angry strangers is terrifying. In that situation I have to do what I would advise anyone else to do - leave the conversation.

The last issue is with people attempting to trigger me on purpose, pretending they need help then defending abusers, trying to convince me that all of my resources are harmful and doing nothing but damage, or trying to get me to delete my content, change my posts, advocating for abusers, siding with my abusers, telling me I'm a monster, insisting they're victimized by me unless I personally disprove my smear campaign to them, and generally trying to get me to lash out in order to post it online to claim I should be cancelled. That is the worst thing you could be doing to a traumatized abuse victim. I am a person, of course I sometimes say something wrong and not well thought and put out. That doesn't mean anything I ever do to help others is worthless and should be erased. And you will not convince me that my blog is useless or harmful. It helps me. And I am someone too.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— frozen hearts: epilogue —

Warnings: strong language, fluff, angst, panic attack, mentions of past abusive relationships, sexual themes (nothing graphic)

Word Count: ~10k

A/N: We’re officially officially at the end of the series. If anyone wants to talk about it (I want to talk about it), please send in asks and messages. Just so we’re clear this is taking place a year after the start of the series. It also probably has a few typos, so please let me know where they are so I can fix them! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcome! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Join My Taglist ||

December 21st

“We’re going to be late!” You called out, voice echoing through the somewhat empty apartment. The suitcases had already been placed inside the car, three duffel bags waiting for you to pick them up on the side of the shoe rack. There were some boxes piled up in the corner, books and sweaters pouring out of them. You made a mental note to pack those properly as soon as you came back to your little home. 

Your boot was now tapping against the welcome mat, arms crossed and a scowl on your face as a pair of stupidly blue eyes finally peeked out from the corner wall. His soft dark hair had grown and been cut several times in the past year or so, but it still flopped onto his forehead and in front of his eyes. 

“Sorry, doll,” Bucky started, his arms cradling the little bundle of joy that was starting to screech. “She’s not letting go of me.” 

You sighed and beckoned him over, taking the white ball of fur from him and scratching the top of her head. You had brought her home on a dull rainy day, finding her cooped up in a wet cardboard box in the back alleyway with no collar around her neck. Bucky was reluctant of the new member of the family, but he had glanced at her white hair and said Alpine. 

“Alpine’s just a daddy’s girl,” you whispered, looking up at him with bright eyes. Somehow, even with the slight stubble, messed up hair, a rip in his sleeve where Alpine had dug her claws in, he still managed to knock the breath out of you. 

“Just like her mommy then, ain’t she?” Bucky teased when your phone rang with your dad’s face and name plastered on the front. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your phone from his hand—he had taken it to talk to Matthew about the new attachment that he had wanted for his house, but Matthew spent the time talking about his baby boy and Bucky would be lying if he said he minded it. 

“Hello? Yeah. In a bit.” A hum followed by another. “Okay, see ya. Bye, love you too. Bye.” You looked up at Bucky, pecking him on the cheek—Alpine purred against your chest as a warning because she disliked the display in front of her—and then tilted your head as a way of telling him to leave now before Alpine caught onto your play. 

“I’ll get the bags in,” Bucky stated, grabbing the three duffel bags with no problem with his left hand. “You get her in her bed, lock up the place. Also, just check if the dispenser has enough cat food for her, will ya?” 

“Yeah, Bucky, I will.” 

The same smile that had appeared on his face when you first said his name plastered itself on his lips. It had never seized from showing, his dimples and eye crinkles making it worth it. Every time you said Bucky made him glow, like he couldn’t believe you actually called him by his name. You tried to use as much as possible, more often when he was in a sour mood or had just woken up from a nightmare. 

Those had decreased overtime, dying down to about twice a month unless something triggered him. You found those little ticks of his, the ones that meant he was uncomfortable, the ones you hadn’t noticed before. The first time you had noticed his eyes sweep to the exit, you had shrugged it off, but when his eyes kept trailing away from the crowd and you towards the door, you knew he wanted to leave. He was just too stubborn to say anything. The other antics came about and you learned to memorize them. 

After an argument about his stubbornness and feeling the need not to ask for help—especially because it broke your heart not being able to help him when he needed it most—you signed the two of you up for couples counseling. Bucky had a bit to say on the matter, feeling the fight drain from him when you pouted and told him that it was only for a little while anyway. He still had no defence against your pouty lips and tears. He quite literally dropped to his knees once in an argument when you teared up. 

“‘Kay, sweetheart. I’ll see you outside.” Bucky pecked your lips and then let his thumb caress the space between Alpine’s ears. “And I’ll see you in two weeks sometime.” With that, Bucky left the apartment, closing the door gently behind him as you started walking off to leave Alpine in her monitored room. 

Bucky insisted on using the little room—the one that was originally a storage room—for Alpine, saying that the little one deserved her own room. You didn’t mind it one bit. Plus, you got a gorgeous view of his back muscles and abs and seeing that metal arm being put to good use and the other one flex while carrying heavy materials. Yeah, you distracted him and he got distracted once or twice or maybe five times. But, in the end, Alpine had her own little room with her too big cat scratcher, food dispenser, and little security cameras so that you two could watch her behaviour. 

You bent down and watched her scurry off to climb the scratcher and curl up on the second landing. “Bye, Alpine.” She meowed in response and you figured it would be best to lock the window and door, seeing last time you and Bucky went out for date night, she had somehow managed to get out. 

After that, you locked the front door and made your way down the three flights of stairs, the elevator still stuck from three months ago. You never minded the exercise and you definitely never minded the way Bucky would pick you up from behind and carry you up just because he could. He had opened up with the PDA and, while you loved having his presence, it made you flustered furiously everytime. 

You hadn’t known how much he was holding back from saying and doing things during your days last year. He spent every second of any moment near you whispering sweet nothings or something vulgar enough to leave you breathless. Sometimes he would keep his hand on your back, other times it was wrapped around your shoulders or waist. If he wasn’t near enough to either of those, his eyes would find yours, crinkling up and giving you a look that was full of love. 

Opening the main entrance, you were pelted with the harsh wind and snow bullets flurrying along with it. You shivered and tugged your coat closer to yourself, wishing you had listened to Bucky and put on that stupid scarf. You had been distracted while he was telling you that anyway; he was rolling his sleeves up before doing the dishes. Your shivers were over quickly because Bucky pulled his car in front of you—the one that he specifically bought for the two of you after a few dates of using his motorcycle and Steve’s car. 

Bucky rushed out to rush you in, and with his sweet and gentle pushes, you sat down in the passenger seat. The car door closed just as you shuffled your body on the seat and started buckling up. 

“Should I blast more heat? You think you’re fine? You should’ve worn the damn scarf, y’know? I told you it’s gonna be cold and you didn’t even bother putting on gloves. Come here—” Bucky grabbed your hands and put them in front of the vent, eyebrows furrowing as he felt your icy hands in his warm ones. “You gotta listen, doll. You get sick in the winter and, as much as I don't mind caring for you when you’re sick, you sure do suck the breath outta me when you are. You were sick for five days straight with the highest fever I’ve ever seen last time and—” 

“Bucky,” you stressed out, noticing the tension leave his shoulders slightly and his eyes darted up to meet yours. “I’m okay. My hands are sweating and the temperature is fine. You should start driving before we get caught in traffic and are late for our flight.” 

Bucky sighed and hesitated but obligated eventually when you pouted. 

December 22nd

You stirred awake to hushed whispers and little giggles, blinking away the fuzz and trying to decipher what was going on. The room was dark, but the time on the clock told you it was half past eight. The usual arms around your waist were still there, but the muscles were tensing and loosening every now and then. You sucked in a breath and turned around, greeting the sight of Nate and Dan jumping up and down on the bed with raised eyebrows directed at Bucky. 

“G’morning, doll,” Bucky whispered, kissing your cheek. “I love you.” That was the daily greeting, whether it was verbal or not. Sometimes he would get up for an early meeting with some investors—his architectural firm was growing rapidly after designing the Stark Tower for Tony—and leave with a note placed on your night table, his loopy handwriting reminding you that he loved you loads. 

“Love you, too.” You looked over at the twins and they both chimed in a greeting, huffing and falling down with their bodies draping over Bucky. Bucky groaned at their weight, but you all knew better—he was more than capable of picking up the twins and spinning them around like he had yesterday. 

After Matthew came to grab the twins, you and Bucky got ready for the day. There were gentle teasing hands trailing up your waist at points, making you unsteady and set your whole being on fire. Once that was over, you provoked Bucky by putting on Sam’s hoodie and inhaling it deeply to put on more of a show. Bucky wasn’t impressed and practically tackled you to the bed and convinced you to take it off. There were some elements of persuasion that worked better than others on you, and Bucky knew every single one of them. 

You barely made it downstairs when Bucky’s phone rang. It had started ringing a lot more in the last three months than ever before. Business associates and potential clients started contacting Barnes & Co. and that would lead them straight to Bucky. Even with Wade, Bucky’s personal assistant, scheduling appointments left and right, Bucky still ended up taking more calls than he wanted. 

“I have to—”

“I’ll wait in the kitchen, Buck,” you whispered, giving his lips a peck and then making your way towards the kitchen. It was bustling with noise, clicks and clanks of pots and spoons making the cabin a home. The sweet and fresh scent of ginger lingered in the air as you stepped in to see your family. 

Hailey and Jake had arrived a week ago with Vanessa, Dylan, and their 10-month-old baby girl, Inara. They said they wanted to stay longer this time around, but you knew that they were facing problems with Jake’s family. They had a strict upbringing and conservative mindsets. So when Hailey started to work again a few months ago, they started dousing Hailey with the fault that she wasn’t going to be there for her kids as they grow. Jake stood by Hailey’s side every step of the way and you were glad for that. 

TJ and Diya weren’t going to be able to make this time around, but Isabelle and Lea were already here. Lea was a carbon copy of her mother, with the same long black hair and emerald eyes. But she had her father’s facial shape, in a more feminine way, but it was her father’s genes that made that part of her up. Lea was hunched over a book, eyes darting around the page and unphased by the commotion around her. Isabelle was swatting Jake’s hand away from the pan, giving him a glare and mumbled something under her breath that made Jake grin. 

Skylar and Tyler would be coming in tomorrow, having wrapped up their terms and exams. Deanna and Xavier would come on Christmas Eve with Harry and a new addition, Evie, a six-year-old girl. Your grandparents were supposed to be here today, but the snow storm on their end had their flight postponed. 

“Hello, honey,” your mom said, grabbing your elbow and dragging you to a seat next to your dad. You raised an eyebrow and looked between them suspiciously; there was no mistaking that cooing tone in your mom’s voice. 

“Okay,” you drawled out, shaking your head. “Nope. I’m not getting into the middle of this—whatever it is.”

“Oh, but—” 

“Nope.” You shared a look with Matthew and he grinned at you, tilting his head as if to say jokes on you. You ignored him after sticking your tongue at him. 

December 23rd

Bucky stirred awake, pulling you closer into his chest and burrowing his head into your neck. His hazy brain barely registered the kiss you dropped on his hand, lingering slightly before you started pulling away from him. His arm tightened around you, eyes snapping open and finding yours already on him with pursed lips. His gaze flickered around your face quickly, mapping out why exactly you were getting up, leaving him in bed by himself, this early in the morning. 

“What’re you doing?” His voice was raspy and low, breaking in between the vowels, but he could see the way it relaxed you slightly. 

“Need to use the bathroom,” you whispered, eyes darting away and cheeks burning. He raised an eyebrow, knowing you were lying. His grip faltered and you took the escape, dragging your feet to the bathroom. The door shut and locked with a click, making his eyebrows furrow even further. You never locked the bathroom anymore. 

You had closed off before, early on in the relationship when Bucky was still taking you out on dates and earning bits of your love. You had pulled away from his touch during a morning coffee date, lifting your hand close to your chest and shaking your head gently. Even with his chest squeezing in on his heart, he had accepted your choice with a pained smile on his face. It’s okay he had reassured you, leaning back in his chair and giving you the space and time you needed. 

You weren’t ready for his touch when the two of you were walking back to yours, nor the next day when he brought pizza for the hockey game, or the next when he was over for your weekly game night. Natasha had sent him questioning glares, scowling when he sat a few feet away from you on the three-seater. Steve already knew—Bucky being in a quieter state than usual and staring at his phone whenever it was lying somewhere near. 

And he was fine with waiting for you. He could spend his whole life waiting for you and he would still wait afterwards. 

When you were ready to talk to him and touch him again, you had called him. It was the dead of night and Bucky was already passed out, but he had woken himself up to talk to you. He listened to you apologize and explain that it was an impulsive thing, that it wouldn’t happen all the time. It was triggered with a phone call from Matt Murdock about the case, telling you that Rumlow was being detained for violating his restraining order. Even though that meant that Rumlow was a safe distance from you, you couldn’t help but think that he was going to find a way to get out. 

Bucky got up and started towards the bathroom, knocking twice and asking, “Can I come in, doll?” A few seconds passed before the tell-tale click sounded in the silence and Bucky pushed open the door to find you teary-eyed. You lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into the curve of it. Bucky’s arms went around your middle, tugging your body towards him as one hand trailed up to the back of your head. He scratched your scalp and kissed your temple, laying his cheek against it. 

———

You wanted to spend the day lounging in bed with Bucky and watch a movie, no matter how insistent he was about the scene. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to spend time with you—he often complained about how much less time he got to spend in your presence nowadays—but you rarely saw your family. However, you were stubborn enough for him to give in, only going down to tell your mom that you weren’t feeling all that well and wanted to spend the day upstairs in your room. With the slight blush on his cheeks and hair out of place, you could tell he was teased about the plans you had. You felt the tiniest bit of guilt, but it was overpowered by the urge to tease him about it more. 

“You alright there, Bucky?” You asked, teasing tone making him huff out a breath, feigning annoyance as he eyed you wearily. 

“You seem perfectly fine,” he said, placing a knee on the bed and crawling to hover over you with a cocked eyebrow. 

In all honesty, you had started to feel better about two hours ago when he had knocked on that door and held you while you cried. But you didn’t feel up to talking to your family and wanted to stay out of their sight until you felt ready for all that. You also had the sudden urge to just feel Bucky today. You wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, drowned in his scent, wearing his hoodie, and watching a movie you two fought over in your shared bed. 

“I feel better when I’m with you,” you mumbled, gently pulling his head down with your hands behind his neck. You stopped pulling when his nose bumped yours, nudging you to pull him further down, but you stopped there. He let out a shaky breath, eyes darkening the longer you kept the distance between your lips. His eyes darted between yours, finding the challenge in them, before swearing under his breath. 

“Fuck it.” He placed his lips against yours, kissing you with an urgent need that set your whole being on fire. Every fibre and bone suddenly trembled in excitement as he pushed down and let his body press against yours. His lips started to move, leaving a trail of heat and goosebumps. Down your jaw, pressing against your pulse point a bit harder, and dragging his teeth on a sensitive spot on the curve of your neck, his lips gave you every bit they had to offer. 

Everything from there turned into a blur, clothes mixing up on the floor as you both tried to get closer to each other. 

Gentle fingertips traced your body, lips finding the places that made you squirm and his lips turn up into a smirk. Another hand, cold to the touch, but gentle touching on your skin, came to your hip to keep you grounded. His lips landed on yours once more, one hand skimming down to bring you to the edge and let you fall. Whispers and hushed voices echoed in the room, keeping the volume to a minimum. Slowly he delved through you, taking you apart and putting you back together twice before reaching his own high. 

Deep inhales and exhales overtook the quiet moans that had escaped your lips as Bucky gently lowered his body weight onto you, biting your shoulder playfully. You chuckled and swatted his arm, exaggerating your breathing to tease him about his heavy body draped over yours. He lifted his body, raising an eyebrow as he kissed up your neck. He favoured his metal arm as he slid a hand down your side, squeezing your hip with a smirk when you squirmed and brushed against him. 

“We need to take a shower,” you whispered, feeling his lips press into your neck once more. 

“Together?” His voice sent shivers through your body. “Scandalous.” He pressed a few more kisses on your neck and then lifted you up with him without even a huff, walking towards the bathroom. 

December 24th

“How does the arm work?” Vanessa asked, flopping down next to Bucky before deciding to climb onto his lap. She twisted her legs, hitting a spot that almost made him keel over, and sat crossed-legged on his lap. You hid a smile, but Bucky caught it anyway. 

“What do you mean, princess?” Bucky raised an eyebrow and caught the way she looked over at her dad for some sort of reassurance. Once she found it, she gestured to his shoulder, right where metal met skin. 

“I mean, how does it move?” She furrowed her eyebrows cutely. “We learned a little about the nervous system in class. The teacher said that our…um, body parts were connected to our brain and the brain sends messages to the body part when we want to move it. But your arm isn’t really…” 

Bucky tilted his head and filled in, “Organic?” 

Bucky knew where this was going, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it. Vanessa, like the rest of your family, was more than respectful with her questions. No one had ever said something off-handedly about his arm, not even after yesterday’s incident of his detached arm when you two had finally ventured down. He had always been ready to answer any questions they might have had, but no one ever asked him any. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s made of metal and we learned that if someone gets a part cut off—wait, there was a word she said…”

“Amputated?” 

“Yeah! Amputated.” It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best she could say it so Bucky smiled for her to continue. “When that happens, you can’t put it back, like teeth. After your baby teeth fall out, the adult ones won’t have a—a, uh, replacement.” Vanessa gave him a crooked smile, eyes shimmering with pride. 

“You are so smart, princess,” Bucky praised, ruffling her hair a little and laughing when she wrinkled her nose and swatted at his hand. “Well, you see, this arm was a gift from Princess Shuri and—”

“Princess Shuri?” Vanessa beamed and jumped a little at the name. “We read about her. She’s so cool. She’s a princess, but then she’s also a scientist.” Bucky grinned at the way she slightly mispronounced the word scientist and felt his heart swell with the way she thought highly about Shuri. He would tell Shuri about this encounter later. 

“Yeah. She gave me the arm after I helped King T’Challa.” Vanessa squealed and turned a violent shade of red. Bucky raised an eyebrow and looked over at Jake. 

“Celebrity crush,” Jake sighed, shrugging and giving Hailey a look that meant it was her fault somehow. Hailey merely shrugged and winked over at you. 

“King T’Challa is a perfect gentleman,” she said simply, letting you giggle and Bucky scowl at the way you nodded along with her. 

“Seriously, doll?” Bucky shook his head and turned back to Vanessa. “That man is married and you are way too young to have a crush on him.”

“Fine,” Vanessa groaned out, rolling her eyes and then grinning. “Can you tell me how she made it move?” 

“Well, it’s connected to the part of my brain that sends those messages to move to my limbs. It’s a little chip that she had to put in, right here—” Bucky pointed to the spot above his ear— “with a little needle.”

“Did it hurt?” Vanessa’s voice was small and timid as she brushed her fingers over the spot Bucky had pointed at. Bucky’s voice got lost in his throat before he cleared it and shook his head, unable to trust his voice. “Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, clearing his throat again to get rid of the burning sensation there. “Shuri made sure it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Does it ever hurt? Like when it’s cold or too hot?” 

“No, not really.” Bucky tilted his head in thought. “Sometimes it aches, hurts when it’s cold. Just over here.” He pointed at the spot where metal met skin. Vanessa frowned and looked around. She spotted a blanket at the corner of the couch and grabbed it, putting it around Bucky’s shoulders. 

“There,” she announced after smacking his head with her elbow by accident and adjusting the blanket to drape over his shoulders like a cape. “We can keep you warm so it doesn’t hurt.” 

Bucky felt his breath lodge up in his throat and his heart contracted in his chest at the gesture. He blew out a breath and pulled Vanessa into his chest, eyes tearing up a little. Vanessa giggled and muttered something along the lines of don’t tickle me before wrapping her arms around his waist as much as she could with her tiny arms. He locked eyes with Jake who was watching on with a teary smile and then he looked away when Vanessa pulled away. 

December 25th

Bucky’s voice echoed through the house from the top of the stairs, yelling your name as loud as he could. The silence in the living room was deafening, everyone’s eyes coming to land on you with some sort of accustory expression on their faces. Dim red, green, and white lights flickered in their eyes and on their face. The lights of the Christmas tree weren't enough for your family, so your dad flicked on the main lights as he walked towards the hallway bathroom. Your mom looked at you with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, an expression that you knew meant she wanted an answer right away. 

You shrugged, keeping your grin from breaking out on your face by biting the insides of your cheeks. When Nate and Dan came in, snickering and giggling, Matthew traded a deadpan stare with Tania, bouncing baby Gabriel on one of his knees while Tania’s arms were filled with a sleepy Ariel. Matthew then turned his head to give you a glare, knowing he was going to be dragged into your mom’s lecture since his kids were involved somehow. 

Bucky was right behind the boys, in all his sparkling glory. His hair was streaked with silver, the overhead lights hitting him just right to showcase your handy work. From his hair to his shoulders, he was doused in glitter and leaving a track behind him. Silver glitter was stuck to every inch of his face, a few sparkles falling to the ground each time he took a breath or turned his head slightly. The glitter on his shoulders was trickling down to his black sweater and burgundy sweatpants. His socks were no better than his shoulders, sparkling in the light. 

He was identical to a disco ball. The thought had your remaining facade falling, breaking down into laughter as his scowl became prominent. Glitter fell from his face as he twisted his lips into a thin line, cheeks hollowing out as he glowered at you. Even without the glitter his glare would have done nothing to intimidate you. You only laughed harder, doubling over in your spot on the couch as he tried to glare at you harder. The glitter fell to the floor as he furrowed his sparkly eyebrows. 

He tried to move forward to get to you, maybe cover you in glitter, but stopped short when he realised you were sitting across the carpeted floor. The glitter would be a hassle to get out of the carpet and it seemed to dawn on him that you took that specific spot for a reason. 

Your mom was the first one to react after you, getting up and fussing over him, but not daring to touch the glitter. Her hands drifted around his body as if she was going to dust him off, but merely gestured to you with a finger. Frowning and shaking her head, she opened her mouth and closed it twice before finally speaking. 

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/S,” she started, dropping her hand and placing her hands on her hips. You were still giggling, even more so when she tried to glare at you too. She was never the intimidating one in the family—neither was your dad—and so you tried to stop laughing, but it only seemed to get worse. Especially when your dad walked in, stopping to look at Bucky, giving him a once over, and then keeled over laughing and slapping his knee. 

Bucky’s own facade was starting to crumble, lips twitching and eyebrows moving slightly. The glitter that fell from his face told you that he was holding it together with a string now. 

“He looks like a disco ball,” you stated, letting your lips curl up higher when Bucky pouted at you. You almost cooed at his face, finding the glitter coating his cheeks and eyebrows almost adorable and innocent. Matthew broke down at the comment, startling baby Gabriel and earning a quick swat from your mom who was close enough to do that. 

Nate and Dan were laughing, rolling on the floor loudly with Vanessa rolling her eyes at them and muttering boys under her breath. Her lips did, however, curl into a sly smile when Bucky looked over at the twins with an exasperated sigh. Jake was trying his best to be polite, snickering into his fisted hand and covering his smile with a hand while Hailey was shaking her head at the mess around Bucky’s feet. She tugged baby Inara closer to her chest and leaned back, unable to keep her smirk off her face. Everyone else joined in slowly, giggling when Lea high-fived you. 

“Merry Christmas,” you mouthed at Bucky, falling into another fit of laughter as Bucky’s grin finally broke out on his face. 

December 26th

The snow trickled down, landing in piles on the curb and turning into slush on the sidewalk. Your boots collided with concrete with a soft squish, breath turning into vapour as you took a deep breath and brought your hands up to warm them. The gloves you had worn were thin and wet after throwing snow at Bucky. He was trudging next to you, a feather-like imprint of his hand on your back as he navigated through the small town he had taken you to. Most of the shops were closed and those that were open were celebrating Boxing Day, sales going up to 70% in this part. 

Bucky’s hand bunched up your jacket, dragging you abruptly towards a small shop that was nestled between two huge buildings. He smirked when you swatted his arm, about to scold him for pulling you so harshly when your eyes landed on the display window. There were books lining the display, classics and modern titles all adorned on several small floating shelves for passersby to look at. Your eyes flickered up to the name, Stan’s Corner, as Bucky rattled the knob, twisting the keys in his hands. 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you inside, moving you in front of him so that he could lock the door and let you awe over the bookstore. The shelves that adorned the walls were filled with books, not one space empty. The lights overhead weren’t white, weren’t LED, but the yellow hue these lights gave made the bookstore all that much warmer. Bucky’s palms were pressing between your shoulder blades all too soon to guide you through the front shelves to the cashier counter. 

“How—How did you get the keys?” You stuttered, chuckling airly as you turned to face him. You were sure your eyes were dazed, stars flying around your head, and a heart floating in front of you. Bucky shrugged, ears and cheeks turning pink with his flustered state. 

“Met the owner when me and the boys were out getting new jackets,” Bucky said nonchalantly, the slight tremor in his voice telling you that he was nervous about this date. Since you two had gotten together, after the first date back last year, he had promised you to go on at least one date every week. This week, since you two were here, you had thought he would skip out on it—and you were fine with that—but he had told your parents he was taking you out today without hesitation. 

“And they just gave you the keys?” You bit your lip when that teasing smirk replaced his smile. 

“Are you implying I stole these, sweetheart?” He brought the keys up, dangling them between the two of you and jiggling them with a raised eyebrow. You giggled and shook your head, the glint in his eye making you lightheaded. “I just talked to him about bringing you here today, but he told me it was supposed to be closed ‘cause he had taxi work to do.”

“And then you stole them?” You joked, squealing when his cold hand slipped up your jacket and shirt to tickle your side. You tried to jump away from him, but his metal arm wrapped around your waist, trapping you against his chest. 

“I asked him for the keys for the day,” Bucky whispered, his breath hot against your temple. He placed a kiss there and added, “Thought you would like it.” 

The emotion in his tone made you lean into his body, molding into his chest as he wrapped his flesh arm around you too. The warm air in the store was starting to get to you, jacket ruffling as you unzipped it halfway before Bucky’s fingers replaced yours, tugging the zip down all the way. You tilted your head just enough to look him in the eyes. He swallowed, eyes flickering up from your chosen outfit—a velvet burgundy dress with a neckline that dipped down enough for him to adjust himself. 

“There’s some first edition books at the back that Stan collects. He said we can read them as long as there’s no stains or folded pages. Thought you’d like the back a bit more because there’s—”

“I love it, Bucky.” You turned in his arms, looping your arms around his neck and tugging at his locks affectionately. You placed your lips against his gently, only allowing a small peck before pulling back with shining eyes. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, doll.” Bucky kissed you, unable to wipe the smile off of either of your faces and smiling into the kiss. Bucky pulled away, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “I love you more. Now, let’s read.”

He pulled you towards the back where the first editions lined the bookshelves, couches and armchairs in front of it with a fluffy carpet covering the floor. You nudged Bucky, toeing off your boots and making him do the same. You could feel the fluffy texture through your socks, wiggling your toes in it before walking over to the shelves just to graze over the titles. Bucky flopped down on one of the armchairs, leaning his face against his fist and watching you with a smile on his face. 

He had deliberately planned dates like this twice before, not realizing the first time why his eyes were stuck on you. The first date in the summer, the one you wore the pretty blue number that you said matched his eye colour, he had wanted to take a trip to the zoo after a quick talk with Natasha about your love for baby animals. Once he had seen you coo over the tiger cubs and then the bear cubs, his heart had never felt more full. Then, during a week full of rain, he had a date lined up to be at the aquarium. He had spent the whole time with his eyes on you, gauging every little reaction you had. 

Now you lightly graze the spines of the books, gentle as if you were touching a flower petal, tilting your head slightly to mouth the titles to yourself. Murmuring something under your breath, you went on the line of books, reading each title and stroking the spines as you moved along. Your eyes lit up at a certain book title, letting your fingers press into the book a little harder and then smiled as you moved to the next book. His eyes drifted off from you for a second to get the title, grinning when he saw it was the first edition of The Hobbit. 

His eyes were back on you a moment later, storing the thought of asking Stan about buying the book off of him someday at the back of his head. 

“Buck?” Your voice was teasing, but the way you said his name left him breathless. You raised an eyebrow at him, pulling out a book delicately and holding it to your chest protectively. “Are you going to just watch me read?” 

Bucky shook his head with a smile, beckoning you over with a crooked finger and spreading his legs a little further than they already were. He grabbed your waist and dragged you down to sit on his thigh, closer to his torso, and then tugged your legs up with his hand gripping your thigh. His hand curled around your calf when it was close enough, leaning back and folding your legs on his lap. 

“You’re going to read to me,” he said lowly, voice husky as he kissed your neck and you squirmed on his lap. His fingers dipped under your dress and he added, “Don’t stop and you’ll get what you need.”

December 27th

The dark blue sky is clear for the first time in weeks since winter began. The stars dance and shimmer in the sky, happy to be seen and looked up at. They give a little show to onlookers and one falls to the never ending empty space, stroking the sky behind it in a dim white colour. The moon is small, a mere crescent in the sky, but it shines brighter than it has in days. The light from the moon trickles into the room through the blinds, illuminating your sleeping figure on the bed as Bucky stirs awake to the buzzing coming from somewhere on his side. 

Bucky's arm flung out to stop the insistent buzz, grabbing the cool phone off the night table and swiping the answer button without looking at the contact name. He gently maneuvers himself to face away from you, metal arm still stuck under your pillow when he whispers into the silent night. 

“Hullo?” Bucky slurred out, snapping out of his daze when he heard the sniffles through the speaker. He pulled the phone away from his ear, glancing at the name and sucking in a breath as he waited for Rebecca to speak. 

“Hi, Bucky,” she whispered, voice raspy and a sniffle following her greeting. 

“What happened?” He asked, worst case scenarios popping out in his mind as he shifted even further from you. You shifted towards his body heat, but he knew if he kept talking like this, you would wake up. After the long night you two spent awake, he wanted you to get the sleep you needed. 

“Bruce broke up with me,” she choked out, a sob crackling through the line. Bucky sat up after moving his arm from beneath your head, sitting up at the edge of it. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, unable to reason why exactly Rebecca had called him for that—she usually opted to keep him out of her love life and Bucky was fine with that, knowing she would much rather talk about it with her friends. He waited for Rebecca’s crying to seize before speaking. 

“Why?” He asked, eyes trained on the books lining your shelves. Rebecca inhaled and exhaled before answering his question. 

“Because he can’t—it’s because he can’t—” Rebecca broke off, inhaling sharply before whispering, “He can’t have kids.” 

“I, uh, well—did—did you two—have you—” Bucky cursed inwards for not having the proper words to ask what he wanted without making it weird and heard Rebecca sigh. 

“I should call someone else, shouldn’t I?” 

“Yeah, Becca” Bucky breathed out, shoulders relaxing slightly, but not enough to feel relaxed. “Call Nat, will ya? She can handle things like this—” Bucky felt the tapping on his shoulder and looked over his shoulder to see your slightly dazed eyes watching him. His phone drifted off from his ear slightly, just enough for your eyes to catch the movement. 

“You okay?” You whispered, shifting over to kneel behind him and press the heel of your palm in between his shoulder blades. You started massaging the tense muscles there and Bucky felt his shoulders loosen with your eyes on him. 

“Yeah,” he replied, uncertain about telling you about Rebecca’s current state and situation. The topic of kids was never brought up in the past year or so, both of you knowing it somewhat too early to talk about it. But now, Bucky was wishing he had brought up kids at some point and told you that he wanted them with you. 

You pressed your hand into his back a bit harder to bring him back, Rebecca’s voice coming through the phone in a low murmur. 

“I’m okay, but Becca, she, uh, broke up with her boyfriend—no, her boyfriend broke up with her and she wanted to—”

“Here,” you cut in, extending your arm out in front of him and opening your palm upwards for him to place his phone in. He fell back into your chest, keeping his weight light as he did so, and gave the phone to you without a question or hesitation. Your free hand came up to his hair, fingers raking through his hair and nails scraping at his scalp gently to relax him further into you. 

You shifted to sit crossed-legged and brought the phone up to your ear. 

“Hey, Becca?” Your eyes widened slightly as you shook your head. “No, no, no! I’m fine. Yeah. We’re going to talk about you and Bruce.” 

You certainly knew more about Rebecca’s love life than him. When you had timidly asked him if he was ever planning on reaching out to his family six months ago, he had initially shook his head. But a mere month later, he found himself dialling his mother’s number, always having it stored in his head, and greeting her with a choked hello, ma. It was an emotional conversation, his father’s cutting into his mother’s and becoming a jumbled mess. Calling you after cutting their call with the promise calling them back in a few hours, he had waited for you to come over before breaking down. 

Slowly, the conversations with his parents became easy, having caught up in life. They knew about you and the holiday you two had spent together and the way your gentle words had somehow brought Bucky back to them. Bucky was relieved when you and mother—even though he had scowled at the time—exchanged embarrassing stories about him. Rebecca had already called you her sister-in-law twice, laughing when you got flustered at the statements. His mom had only given him a knowing look through the screen and smiled when you started speaking again. 

“Okay?” You asked, yawning and giggling when Rebecca said something over the phone to you. “Well, you tell your brother that because he—” You laughed, chest moving with each sharp inhale and made Bucky’s head bob with it. 

“Sorry, okay. Yeah, alright. Take care. You too. Bye, bye.” You giggled as you hung up, placing the phone on his chest so that he could pick it up and place it back on the night table. You pressed a lingering kiss on his temple, moving some of his hair away from his eyes to look at him properly. 

“Let’s go to bed. We’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow when we meet her, ‘kay?” You said, kissing his head once more before starting to move behind him. He urged his body to move and laid back down, pulling you flush against him. 

“Since we’re already up—”

“No, James.” 

“Oh, but what if I do the thing with my tongue and—”

“Goodnight, Barney.” 

December 28th

With the growing line behind you and the closely huddled crowd beyond the gates, you could tell Bucky would need your help to get through. Although he hadn’t had a panic attack in a large crowd for two months now, you were always worried about his health. He had procrastinated the professional help he needed after losing his arm and then did nothing to meet the therapist halfway for the first six months. You knew he had a hard time opening up, especially when it came to his accident, but you had been furious with him when he had tried to conduct himself through a panic attack at one of Tony’s parties five or so months ago. 

You could have helped him. You told him that you felt as useless as he did last year at the mall when you were having a panic attack close to the bathrooms. Realising what you felt when he pushed you away, he let you guide him through his panic attack. 

Now, he tugged on your hand to push in front of him at the metal detectors, urging you to go before him. You went through the frame and grabbed your bag from the band, waiting for Bucky to go through. Luckily, vibranium wasn’t detected in these types of metal detectors so he didn’t need to detach his arm. He grabbed his duffel bag and your hand, swiping his thumb over your knuckles before bringing your hand up and pressing his lips into them. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, winking at you when your mouth opened to retaliate and ask exactly how he knew you were worried. “You think too loud, doll.” You rolled your eyes at him and guided him through the airport towards the gate number you were supposed to be at five minutes ago. You had been late to get out of your room this morning, all blame going to Bucky when you saw the marks littering your chest and imprints of hands on your hips. 

He hadn’t even seemed the least bit remorseful when you shrugged on one of his hoodies that covered every little bruise. In fact, he had grinned and taken upon a smug expression as you two had made your way downstairs to say your goodbyes and leave for the airport. The flight heading to Brooklyn was a last minute plan, mostly because his mom hadn’t been sure if they were going to be home for the holidays or gone to Romania to visit her cousins. She had called two days before your flight to Canada, letting you two know that they were going to be home and you two were welcome to come over whenever. 

Bucky had scrambled to find flight tickets when you had told him you wanted to meet his parents and Rebecca. In person, because online videos and chats weren’t the same. 

With most of the passengers already boarded, you and Bucky made it to your seats fairly quickly and sat down with a laugh when Bucky had to squish his body into yours to let an elderly lady through. Your seat was in the middle, a man around your age on the window side, while Bucky was in the seat close to the aisle. It seemed to be a fine seating arrangement, but then the man had started talking to you while Bucky brought out a book to read. It was innocent at first, just asking about your holiday plans and the flight back, until he started asking you if someone was waiting for you at home. 

Bucky had all but growled and scowled at the man, leaning his head in and whispering, “Switch seats with me, doll.” You obliged, never having seen his possessive side back at home. You never really ventured out of your band of misfits, sticking to your friends during an outing. Men had asked you out in front of Bucky before, but then you hadn’t been his and he hadn’t been yours. 

Settling into Bucky’s seat, you noticed two things; one, his seat was warm and two, he was too big for the seat in the middle. He adjusted himself to sit slightly sideways, blocking the man’s view of you completely. You leaned against his shoulder and read the book he was reading, recognizing the title. You bit your tongue for a few minutes, letting Bucky think that you accepted his behaviour without teasing, before proving him wrong. 

“You’re so cute when you're jealous.”

———

Winifred Barnes greeted you as if you had been in her life since Bucky had been. A warm embrace and kiss to your cheek, she cupped your cheeks in her hands with a soft smile on her face. She then swatted Bucky’s arm with the oven mitt she was holding, scolding him for taking so long to get his act together and calling them. Bucky merely smiled painfully as she continued to ramble, slowly realising she hadn’t even hugged him yet. Then she was crying into his shoulder, patting his hair and smoothing a hand down his back with hushed murmurs too low for you to hear. 

George Barnes had stood back with glazed eyes, lips pressed into a thin line before extending a hand to you to shake. His eyes were the same shade of blue as Bucky and his hair, even though lined with grey, was the same as the dark locks of Bucky. You shook it with a genuine smile on your face, a stray tear slipping down your cheek as George took his wife’s spot and wrapped his arms around Bucky. Bucky seemed to stiffen when George patted his back and then relaxed when George whispered something in his ear. 

Rebecca came running down the stairs, earphones dangling from her phone where they were plugged with her hands trying their best to grasp them. She looked similar to Bucky with the same piercing blue eyes and dimples on her cheeks when she smiled. Her features were feminine and softer, but she looked like Bucky. They both had gained more of their father than mother. She wrapped you in a hug, squeezing tightly and whispering that she had some things to tell you. Her mood was better than last night and you wondered if Bruce had called her back. 

“You!” She pointed at Bucky, voice increasing louder than you had expected. “You little shit! You left me on read that day and your asshole friend told me nothing! Nothing! I had to find out you moved to New York to join the fucking army from Steve’s girlfriend. Steve, oh my, when I get my hands on him, I’m gonna strangle the shit out of him! Asshole.” 

Bucky grinned and said, “Missed you too, Becs.” Rebecca softened and pulled him into a hug, squeezing a bit more tighter and making him groan. 

“You deserve a lot worse than that, dumbass.”

Stupid,” Bucky muttered under his breath, earning a swat to the head from Rebecca. He glared at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Can’t do anything about it,” she taunted, spinning on her heels and sauntering further into the house. “I’m ma and pa’s favourite.”

“She might be my favourite Barnes,” you teased Bucky with a wink as he stepped up onto the first step when his parents had gestured for Bucky to take the suitcases upstairs to his childhood bedroom. Winifred waved a hand, gesturing for you to follow her, seemingly not hearing what you had said. 

“Favourite Barnes, my ass,” he muttered under his breath, heaving up a suitcase without groaning and sending a glare towards where Rebecca was now settled beside you on the three-seater. You heard him with the small two-story brownstone open floor plan. 

You found the house nice and warm, kind of like the embrace Winifred had wrapped you in. The more you looked around the place, the more you realized that she was probably the one who decorated the place. The vintage velvet couches were a dark red colour that fit perfectly in the light brown colour the living room was painted in. The dining room was a sage green colour with a lighter shade creating a mural of leaves. The kitchen was a pale blue colour with a hint of grey in it. The fireplace was on, lighting the wooden floor in shades of yellow and oranges. 

Your eyes landed on a picture of Bucky and Rebecca in the snow with a snowman built between them. It was hung beside the TV, a place where anyone in the house could see it. Neither of them were looking at the camera, but at each other and that just made it more adorable. Bucky’s wide grin showed a missing tooth at the top, one arm thrown around the snowman while the other jutted out to the side. Rebecca, who was probably around four or five, was only managing a smile, caught looking at her brother from the corner of her eyes. 

“You guys are adorable,” you cooed, eyes flickering to Rebecca when you heard her huff in annoyance. 

“I’m gonna burn that thing,” she muttered under her breath, watching Bucky descend the stairs and catch your line of sight. He sighed in annoyance, a similar reaction to what Rebecca had. 

“If you do that,” you started, pausing when Bucky flopped down beside you and threw his arm over the couch behind you, “I might cry.”

“Fuck,” Bucky hissed, throwing his head back and screwing his face up like he was in pain. “Don’t burn that picture, Becs.” You wanted to laugh at the thought of your tears—just the thought of your tears—causing him so much pain. You wanted to giggle or tease him, maybe fake some tears right then, but you understood what he felt to a limit. While you would be hurt if he was crying, you weren’t sure if you would cry with him. But, knowing your Bucky, he would break if you cried. You had seen it in an argument you two had about eight months ago. 

“Shit, he’s whipped. You gotta tell me how you did that.”

December 29th

Mornings with the Barnes were different from mornings with the Y/Ss, that much was obvious. The usual clangs of pots and pans were missing, replaced with hushed voices and the smell of cinnamon, coffee, and bacon strong in the air. The curtains were closed from Winifred’s orders, telling you both to get as much sleep as you needed, so no light invaded the room. Your bodies were tangled up more than usual with the smaller bed frame. None of you had batted an eye when you realized that the double-sized bed was what you two were sharing for two nights. 

Snuggling further into Bucky’s chest and tugging the blanket up to your nose, you yawned and blinked awake. The smell of coffee had always seemed to wake you up and the smell of cinnamon was making your stomach growl lowly. Sneaking a glance up at Bucky, you snuck out of bed and made your way into the bathroom. When you came out, Bucky was still asleep, mouth slightly parted with his soft snores filling the room. 

He ought to be tired after all the heavy lifting he did yesterday and the day before. After dropping your suitcases to his bedroom and getting a five minute break on the couch with you and Rebecca, he had been whisked away by George to shovel the driveway. Bucky assured you and Rebecca that he didn’t need help and was looking for a way to keep exercising over the holidays anyway. The snow had mixed with rain so it was heavier than usual and you could tell Bucky’s arms were going to be sore the next day.

He had started wincing last night when he laid on his side. He still held you close, wrapping his arms around your middle and yanking you to lay on his chest for the first few minutes. Then you had slid off, placing a kiss on his jaw and feeling his body relax as he fell into a slumber. 

You tiptoed downstairs before making your presence known by the creak in the last step. Winifred and George looked up from their plates and smiled at you. 

“Good morning,” they both chimed, Winifred moving to get up. 

“Good morning,” you repeated back, sitting down at the breakfast table when Winifred motioned for you to do so. You wanted to argue but you had learned Winifred Barnes did not want anyone else in her kitchen yesterday. She placed a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon in front of you and let you dig in before sitting down, satisfied with your first bite. Rebecca trudged down the stairs a few minutes later, eyes trained on her phone with a big smile on her face.

She and Bruce had had a long talk and Bruce finally accepted the fact that Rebecca was fine without kids for now. When they did want to have kids, and if they stayed together for that long—she thought they would—they could always adopt. 

Once she reached the table, she flopped down onto the chair with routine and waited for her mom to set up her plate. She put away her phone and started chatting with you as you both ate. George was long gone into his study, the only room on the main floor that had doors and walls of its own, when Bucky came down. His eyes darted to you, a soft glare on his face and a pout on his lips. 

“You left me alone.”

December 30th

Bucky shook his head at you when you grunted trying to pick up your suitcase. He had been telling you for the last few hours that he was going to load them into the pickup truck Steve brought over last night with Natasha. Steve had gotten quite the welcome; a warm hug from both his parents and then Rebecca attempting to swing her foot into his face. Natasha merely greeted Bucky’s parents and grabbed you and Rebecca, pulling you two away from the group and gossiping about whatever. 

He was lucky for that. It had given him the time to sneak his parents and Steve away into the study for a bit without you noticing. 

“Doll,” Bucky said, hands on his hips and an adoring smile on his lips. You huffed out a breath of annoyance and let go of the suitcase handle to push your hair back. “Me and Steve’ll put this shit away.” 

“Why haven’t you then?” You retorted, a frustrated tone coming into hearing. He furrowed his eyebrows and dropped his stance to something more confused. You rarely snapped at him without provoking or a really good reason to. His mind wandered off to yesterday, trying to remember if he had pissed you off somehow or if anyone else had something to you. His mind came up blank. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asked timidly and you seemed to sag at his voice. You blew out a breath and then inhaled deeply, repeating the process a few times. 

“I’m okay,” you replied, lips trying to curl at the sides but failing miserably when your bottom lip trembled. He caught the action and was wrapping his arms around you tight the next second. You wrapped your arms around his middle. He felt his shirt wet and his heart squeezed itself in pain. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Don’t cry, Y/N. I might cry too, and we know that’s gonna be a mess.” His knees were starting to feel weak and his eyes were glazing over, trying to blink away the tears. Your watery chuckle had his heart loosening a little. When you looked up at him with your teary eyes and sad smile, he let out a shaky sigh. “There’s my girl.”

“I’m okay,” you repeated, nodding your head once to affirm it. “I’m just a bit emotional since we’re heading home now.”

“Well, I know a little white furball who’s probably waiting for her mama to come back home. I know she misses you loads.”

You snorted and said, “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, doll. That cat loves you.”

“She’s absolutely smitten with you, Bucky Barnes.”

“The cat?”

“Both of us.” 

[nicksbestie]

how would Luke react to his little throwing a tantrum? I feel like he’s calm but also severe? idk, anyways I hope you’re taking care and doing well, you’re my favorite writer ❤️

Meltdown

word count : 1676

warnings : this is based around a dinner scene, so if food is something that bothers you, i would suggest not reading! i love you!

enjoy!

<3

Luke wasn’t a strict caregiver by any stretch of the imagination.

He was sweet, kind, patient, and lenient. He tried his best to never punish his little one. He hated having to do it, and Avery was almost never in trouble. It was so rare that she ever had a bad enough day to be so upset that she needed direct correction, but it did happen once in a blue moon. Most of the times that it did happen, all Luke had to do was give her a soft warning and she would listen, but for the other few times it didn’t work, he had to be more strict. 

He didn’t enjoy punishing her at all, and it was one of his least favorite parts of being a caregiver. He knew it was part of the job, but that didn’t mean that he had to want to do it. He was always so gentle, giving her warning after warning after warning so that he didn’t have to, but when he did, he kept it really light. Avery was one of the more sensitive littles he’d ever met, and just a small punishment would fix her behavior so fast because she would get so upset if she felt like her Daddy was angry at her. 

Because of this, she was only ever given one punishment. Timeout. Early bedtimes didn’t work on her, because if he picked her up and told her it was time for bed, she would happily go, no matter what time it was. As long as Daddy was cuddling her and she had her comfort items, it didn’t matter. So timeout was really the only thing that would correct her behavior. He would never take away her comfort items, and he would never hit her. The thought of caregivers spanking their littles as punishment made him so many levels of uncomfortable. It was supposed to be a coping mechanism for them to heal, not an excuse for abuse. 

Like he stated, the smallest punishment would redirect her behavior and she would immediately fix it afterwards, so timeout was perfect. He hated doing it, because he knew how upset she got when Daddy wasn’t there, so he had adjusted to where whenever she was in timeout he was just across the room. He would never want her to feel uncomfortable or scared, so he stayed close. This wouldn’t work as a punishment for a lot of littles, but for Avery, due to her personality, it worked perfectly. 

Unfortunately, today was one of Avery’s rough days. Most of her rough days are when she’s exhausted, angry, or otherwise in pain. This causes her littlespace to be even more upset, which can easily cause a tantrum at the smallest things. With her sensory issues, it was very difficult for her to keep herself calm on bad days. Luke never got angry with her for her meltdowns, knowing she had no intention of acting out, and it was out of her control. But today, Avery had come over, furious about something that had happened at home, and tired from work. It didn’t take very long for her to slip, curled up sobbing in her Daddy’s arms. 

She cried for a while, Luke gently comforting her, until it was time for him to make them dinner. Much to Avery’s dislike, they had run out of both of her biggest comfort foods, and had to try and figure out something else. She had grumpily agreed to something she still liked, just not as much. So, Luke was happy when she agreed, assuming that there would not be another issue. However, when the food was actually done, Avery had changed her mind. She took two bites of her food, before starting to cry and pushing her plate away from her. 

“No wan it! No, Daddy!” 

Luke had somewhat expected this, thinking there would be some sort of an issue when she actually sat down to eat. He kept his voice gentle, softly speaking to her. 

“Sweetpea, we agreed on this for dinner. If you can eat just a few more bites, we can get you some other snacks. I know it’s not exactly what you want. Let’s eat five more bites, okay?” 

Avery was not calming down in the slightest, instead, it was getting worse. She shoved the plate farther away from her, causing some of the food to spill off of it. Luke did his best not to react, knowing it would only make everything worse. 

Okay, I need to get suction cupped plates. Noted. 

Luke’s voice stayed gentle, but had a firmer edge to it. 

“Princess, we do not cause messes, okay? I know you don’t like it as much, so I’ll compromise. Three more bites, baby, just five total. You can do it, angel.” 

This time, she attempted to push back her chair and get down. They had a high top counter, and Luke knew that the second that she tried to get off, she would fall down. She never had the greatest coordination while she was little, always getting small little boo-boos. So he immediately got off his chair, walking over and loosely bracketing her in with his arms. 

“Baby, you know you can't get down by yourself. I will help you, but I need you to relax and calm down a bit so that I can lift you.” 

She didn’t listen, still attempting to get out of the chair. This time, Luke softly but firmly picked her up, regardless of the impending tantrum, and held her on his hip so she was eye level with him. He gently brushed the hair off of her forehead, doing everything he could to silently calm her down, because he could tell that tonight was going to be one of those nights. Gently rubbing her back, he pressed a soft kiss to her head before speaking, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away her flowing tears.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I just need you to calm down for a bit, okay, angel? We can get you something else to eat.” 

He carried her over to the kitchen, offering option after option, but whatever was tormenting Avery was not letting up, and her tantrum quickly returned, this time full force. She was fighting against his hold, screaming and crying so loudly Luke thought his eardrums would burst. He was still speaking softly to her, until she fought so hard he almost dropped her. That scared her even more, and she cried even louder. He gently went to the living room, setting her down on the carpet and handing her her comfort stuffed animal. 

“Princess, I need you to try and breathe for me. In, and out. That’s right, honey, good job!” 

She was taking ragged breaths, still crying, on the verge of hyperventilating, but it got better as the minutes passed. Luke mentally patted himself on the back for avoiding an absolute meltdown, even though they had toed the line. He softly hugged her, taking her hand while he walked over to clean up the dishes. 

“You need to eat something, pumpkin.” 

He regretted saying that, even if he needed to, when the hysterics started again. That singular sentence set her off, and she just started crying and screaming again.

“No! No, Daddy! No eats! No, no, no, no, no-”

He took a deep breath, thinking about how he wanted to handle this. He gave her one more chance, trying to relax her. 

“Honey, I need you to listen-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence before he was cut off with crying again. 

“NO!” 

And that was it. He hated punishing her so much, but he knew he wasn’t going to get through to her, and he gently picked her up. 

“We’re going to go take a timeout, sweetpea. Daddy’s not angry, but we need to take a little break.” 

He softly led her to a small chair in the living room, sitting her down and crouching in front of her.

“I’m not mad, honey. But you can’t keep screaming at me like this, angel. I tried very hard to be patient, but I think you need a little break. I’m not going to go anywhere, I’ll be right on the couch. Just five minutes, okay, sweetie?” 

Her crying hadn’t slowed, but the screaming had. He thanked all his lucky stars that she hugged her stuffie tighter and didn’t fight him on it. He knew how much it meant to her that he repeatedly reminded her that he wasn’t angry or disappointed. He phrased it carefully so it felt less like a punishment and more like a gentle redirection for her. 

“I love you, little one.” 

She sniffled a bit, reaching out for a hug. He gave her one immediately, kissing her head. 

“Wobes you too, Daddy.”  

He slowly let go, gently squeezing her hand before walking over to the couch. He set a five minute timer, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone while keeping a close watch on Avery. Every time he looked up and made eye contact with her, he blew her a kiss and smiled at her. When the timer went off, he walked up, scooped her up, and kissed her forehead. 

“I’m proud of you, little one.”

Her crying had slowed to a slow trickle of tears, hugging him tightly. She didn’t say anything, but a tiny smile crossed her face when he handed her a pacifier. She quietly shoved it in her mouth, and he sat and cuddled her for about fifteen minutes before he heard the telltale sign of her stomach rumbling. Her crying had worn her out, and she was finally hungry enough to be agreeable to eat. The third attempt at dinner went much more smoothly than the first two, and the rest of the night was a breeze. Luke never left Avery’s side, making sure she had no doubts about how much he still loved her, and she clung to him even as she fell asleep.

[aristobun]

Penny knew that her heart was lost to him the moment she first tended to his wounds, the memory of their first encounter ever fresh in her mind no matter how far they had come since then. Now, there was a hint of frustration in the air that she could not shake, no matter how hard she tried. Wolf was pacing in another room onboard the ship and nothing she had done over the last few hours had worked at all in soothing whatever worry ailed him, which left her pouting.

There was something so familiar and yet, highly uncomfortable at the same time, about him lost in such a state because while she had dealt with him like that several times before, this time it wasn't as easy to rip him back out of it and exhaustion had set in about an hour ago. She had come back to his quarters in a bid to calm herself down from all his pacing and incessant grumbling and growling, none of which were any indication as to what was wrong or why he was being so grouchy.

She could hear his heavy footfalls as he continued to pace, now sounding as though he was in the corridors and she listened intently from her perch upon the furs of his bed, her brow furrowed and her body rigid because she didn't know what to do to help him. He seemed so far gone right now that so much as being in his presence made it difficult to breathe; the air around him was stagnant and suffocating and the only thing she knew was that he was angry.

Penny emits a soft little sigh of annoyance as she ponders the situation for a moment, trying desperately to figure out what might have happened in the interim of him leaving on a hunt and returning back to his ship after several hours. She thinks about that for a while, still perched on his bed but now shuffling toward the edge so her legs can dangle from it even though it's so high up that she can barely even put her feet upon the floor of the ship, making her groan a little bit.

" Are you going to sit in here all morning, little one? " a gruff voice suddenly calls from the doorway and she realises immediately that her gaze had been so heavily focused upon the wall across from where she sat that she hadn't even noticed his approach.

Startled, she lifts her head and meets his eyes, taking great care to dart her brown ones between both his good yellow eye and the faded white of his blind eye, because she always offered that courtesy and it had somewhat helped with his mild displeasure over the scarring that resided on the left side of his face, complete with a missing mandible and acid burns from one of his many battles with a Xenomorph many years before he even met Penny, yet she never wavered in showing appreciation.

" You haven't been paying any attention to me since you got back two hours ago, Wolf, so I figured the best thing to do was step away for a while and give you some space, " she offers, her brows raised again in curiosity as she regards him standing there with his arms folded over his chest.

With a swift little jump and a soft thud when she lands on the ships floor, she descends the bed, her legs carrying her over to him with a pace he deemed incredibly slow usually. Her brown eyes meet his own again and she holds his gaze until she comes to a stop about an inch or so away from him, lifting her hands to place them upon her hips, looking up at him with that same bout of defiance she so often did that, in spite of his current sour mood, had his mandibles twitching in amusement.

Wolf doesn't seem to say anything in response to what she had just answered him with, which ends up annoying her even further right now and she closes the small distance between them a bit more until her forehead is almost bumping against his abdomen—their height difference quite cosmic, which again leaves his mandibles chittering and clicking as he seems to be laughing now. There was never a moment when her stubborn displays of contempt were anything other than comical to him.

" Well? Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you, or are you going to just stand there laughing at me for the rest of the day? " she suddenly spits out, her bare foot stomping on the floor in the least threatening manner possible because it does nothing but entertain him further.

" You are a part of the reason why I am so.. displeased this morning, little one, " he tells her, his arms unfolding from over his chest now and hanging down at his sides again, his clawed fingers seemingly clenching in his mild distress as he stands there in the doorway still, watching her.

Penny tilts her head to one side as soon as he says that, her furrowed brow shifting to a look of complete surprise now because he had been hunting for several hours before returning to the ship, so he had for the most part been away from her for almost nine hours. She was trying to think of what she might have said or done prior to him leaving that may have resorted to this, but she cannot think of anything and it leaves her feeling even more confused over the entire situation.

" I haven't seen you for nine hours, Wolf, what have I done? " she asks, deciding to be direct and to the point instead of dragging this out longer than is necessary, the way she usually liked to do with all of her irritating little quirks of pushing every single one of his buttons.

Wolf doesn't say anything again but his expression alters a little bit and he takes a step closer, her forehead almost bumping against the top of his abdomen because of the difference between them and instead of offering words, he simply rumbles at her, a sound not unlike a combination of a purr and a growl at the same time, leaving her a little confused. They had been together for a few years now so the noises and sounds between them both were easy to identify, besides this one apparently.

Penny instinctively lifts her hands to lay them about midway between his abdomen and his chest to steady herself, but also to offer him a little comfort as he was obviously still needing it regardless of how very grumpy he was acting. He didn't make a move to push her hands away, which is good, but the same deep rumble sounds again from the depths of his chest and up into his throat, his mandibles clicking in obvious irritation but he still isn't telling her what is going on.

" Do I have to try and beat it out of you? " she asks, raising a brow and trying to appear threatening as much as she could, but that would never work with him. He was almost two heads taller than her and built like a mountain compared to her mere pebble form.

Wolf grumbles again, the sound reverberating a little off of the walls in his quarters with the absolute depth of the rumble that comes out of him. She doesn't even flinch, though, used to it by now, but her hands trail a little lower, fingers splaying over his abdomen and giving a gentle squeeze as if to soothe him in the only way she can manage right now given how temperamental he is behaving. A soft little gulp is swallowed, the sound not at all audible however, as she lifts her gaze again.

" Kahn has taken interest in you, little one— " he simply says, but there is a very clear underlying aggression within the tone of his voice that she registers immediately and it pulls a shocked, yet very understanding expression across her face as she realises what is wrong.

" Well, he can find another human to pine for because I'm already taken, quite happily, might I add.. " she answers him, a gentle grin lifting the corners of her mouth upward as she drops her forehead right upon his abdomen now, sighing heavily now that she is finally aware of why he's angry.

Wolf emits another loud little rumble from the depths of his chest, but the sound is punctuated by a clawed hand sifting through her brown hair and tugging lightly so that she is forced to gaze up at him again, the motion not unpleasant because he is always sure to be careful so his claws do not dig into her scalp or any other part of her much more fragile body. The grin she was wearing shifts into a tender smile now as she looks right up at him, her eyes telling him everything he needs to know.

" You belong to me, Penny, " he states, leaving no room for her to debate it, even though beneath the surface of all the rage and possessive jealousy he is feeling right now, he knows she is already aware of that and is quite happily enjoying the fact, as she had been for a few years.

" We both know that already, Wolf.. no need to get so bent out of shape, " she chuckles softly, but the sound of her amusement is stripped away immediately by a sharper tug on her hair, his clawed fingers still embedded within it as if to make his intentions quite clear. " Okay, okay, I know.. I belong to you, " she adds, sighing softly and rolling her eyes, as he always preferred her to say it back.

A satisfied purr escapes from him then, the sound as deep as the rumble had been but echoing around his quarters in a way that made the room sound like a much more confined space than it actually was and she responds to the affectionate noise by tugging on two strands of his dreadlocks, pulling him down to her level and pressing her lips against his closed mandibles, before he returns the gesture with a softness of his own that is reserved only for her, resting his forehead against her own.

[hifumihime]

Not sure anyone will read/care about this but I need a spot to vent about this whole "Idols "recommending" Made in Abyss" thing that's currently trending on twitter because I feel like I'm losing my mind (also I have no one else to talk about this).

So, one tweet from an unverified account posted that several idols were out here promoting and recommending the manga/anime Made in Abyss to their fans... and like... that's not at all what happened? One of them mentioned in a live off hand that he was going to watch it (along with a list of other shows), but stated he probably wouldn't finish them because he was currently touring. He apparently has never brought it up again. Another had a volume on the floor in the corner of a photo he took on his instagram story. He has also never talked about it before or since.

I have not read or watched Made in Abyss, but I follow several anime accounts online and basically every single person was recommending this show when it came out in 2017. It's still highly regarded in the anime community. I have never seen a single person ever speak about the "sexual" moments in it. I was curious and decided to read the first 3 chapters and... yeah, there's one part right in chapter 1 that has a pretty gross illustration of the child protagonist, which I'm not going to go into more detail here because it did make me extremely uncomfortable. I will note that apparently the South Korean version of the manga/anime is heavily censored and also rated mature, but I've not seen what the censoring in question looks like, so I don't know how much they could have read/watched that in, say, the North American/Japanese versions.

My overall opinion, after sleeping on this, is that calling these idols predators or worse is an extreme over-exaggeration. I'm not surprised people are saying this because the tendency for fandoms to overreact and be the morality police are worse than ever before, but if we're really cancelling these people for reading "problematic" fiction/dead dove content, then I'd be right alongside them.

From my physical manga collection alone, I can name three series I own that would get me cancelled:

After the Rain: protagonist, a high school girl, falls in love with an older man (mid-40s?) who serves her at a family diner. She starts working there, and they develop a friendship. Spoiler: nothing happens between them

Cardcaptor Sakura: pretty well known magical girl series so I won't go into the plot, but like.... looking back on it, there were a TON of age-gap romances in here, one of which being a teacher and an elementary school student. I remember being in elementary school and reading it for the first time and being weirded out by it. Spoiler: nothing happens here either (though I have not read the clear card sequel series)

Daytime Shooting Star: Romance with a love triangle between her teacher (wow I'm realizing I read a lot of age gap/teacher/student stuff) and a classmate. Spoiler: she doesn't end up with her teacher!!

I can think of a ton of other non-anime related examples of "problematic"/dark fiction that I love too: Game of Thrones, Last of Us, House of Leaves, My Dark Vanessa.... One of the best books I've read last year was about a cannibal. I guess to twitter, I am also a cannibal?

I think the unfortunate reality of being an anime fan is that basically 80% of the shit out there has "problematic" elements to it, or as I like to call it, "anime bullshit". And I think a lot of kpop fans have not actually watched anime or read manga and aren't aware of this.

You're allowed to feel uncomfortable with fiction. You're allowed to be weirded out that an idol likes a dark manga that has children as the main protagonists, where awful things happen to them. But at the same time, people are allowed to read dark content as well and that does NOT make them pedos, abusers, etc. That is a horrible accusation to make against someone, especially with no proof other than the fact that they may or may not own a volume of an extremely popular manga series. I really feel like the internet as a whole does not realize that words have meaning, and accusing someone of such vile behavior because of the fiction they may or may not read is just... insane. It's insane behavior. Please go outside.

Anyway if you read all of this, congrats. I'm basically word vomiting this all out at 6 am because I'm bad at sleeping. Would love to hear anyone else's thoughts on the matter honestly!

[elvenbeard]

"How did you guys even meet?"

There it was again. Probably the most-asked question they had ever heard. It was true, at first glance Kerry and V didn't seem to have that much in common. None of Kerry's friends knew V's, none of V's knew Kerry's... or well, at least most of them didn't. Their lives appeared to have no overlap. V made no secret about his job, but he also never said anything concrete out loud. It drove the medias nuts, much to Kerry's amusement. Always vague, always the diplomat. Kerry loved how he managed to downright weasel them both out of uncomfortable conversations, with ease, and usually without leaving anyone offended. Kerry would have been a lot less subtle. But when this question was asked, both their faces lit up with mischief.

Kerry took off his sunglasses to look at V, who did the same, almost in sync. They resonated, still, always.

"Well, how'd we meet again, babe?" he asked, his thumb massaging V's shoulder, relishing in their comfortable closeness. V's leg on his lap, his hand on his arm... They matched, like puzzle pieces, like... he could go on with the cheesy metaphors forever probably and still not grasp how lucky he was to have found a match like him.

"I told the story last time. Your turn," V teased with a soft smile. Truth was... they'd never told anyone the truth. At least not those who asked "how'd you meet" just to keep the small-talk going, or because they hoped to sell some first-hand info to the next-best screamsheet.

Who would fucking believe the truth anyway? Kerry sure sometimes struggled with it himself. The more time passed, the more it seemed like a fever dream brought on by too much vodka and self-loathing, mourning a past long-gone.

So, they'd turned it into a game. Different story at every party, every interview, every event. Sometimes they came up with several per night. Just to see how far they could take it.

A few times they said they'd met through work, which was at least rooted in the truth. One of their most convincing ones had revolved around a particularly exciting and dangerous gig during which V saved Kerry's life and vice versa... no one caught on that the whole plot was eerily similar to one of their favourite action movies. Another time their first meeting was a chance-encounter at a secret underground sex club. Once they crashed their cars into each other and may have settled the issue by making out. They met backstage at a concert where V was with the roadies. V was his new manager, or his new bodyguard, an up-and-coming tattoo model, a braindance star, a fashion influencer famous already in the right circles and would soon have his big breakthrough. That last one annoyed the medias in particular, because it made them feel like not being in the know of all the industry's secrets anymore.

They had no shame creating the wildest tales, and it had quickly become one of Kerry's favourite pastimes at these dreadful industry-parties his manager forced them to go to. If his goal was that them showing themselves together in public more often would end all the rumours, well... it had the opposite effect. Kerry loved it.

He wanted tonight's story to be the best they'd told yet... something, that would be a challenge. V had gotten way too good at keeping a straight face at some of the most absurd details he added.

They'd promised to keep the real, full story to just themselves. With all the not so glamorous details. And yet... those were some of Kerry's favourite things about their meeting in the first place. That he hadn't even had time to tie his bathrobe shut properly, struggling to hold his gun all of a sudden because he was shaking so much. The state the villa had been in at the time, the state he had been in. V too dazed to even talk much during their first proper conversation, more mad at Johnny than anything, and more or less at Kerry's mercy. The fact that Kerry had been more interested in Johnny than the guy whose body he was using. This scrawny weird kid that was bleeding all over his sofa and played the tough guy... who then blushed and dropped his mask, just for a second, when Kerry jokingly asked if he wanted to join him in bed, just to annoy Johnny. They'd both been so fucking vulnerable from the very first moment, literally meeting during the worst possible time in each of their lives. And this vulnerability...

Had they met under any other circumstances, like in any of the grand tales they'd made up so far... would they be sitting here now, arm in arm, a little tipsy, plotting and scheming like two school boys up to no good? They'd have a good laugh later, and with the way V was all over him at this point already, they'd probably have some mind-blowing sex, too. Afterwards an unexpectedly profound conversation out of the blue? Or would they just be whispering sweet nothings at each other before they'd fall asleep side-by-side? Wake up together again tomorrow morning, warm and safe and comfortable, the cat purring somewhere... Would they be this happy, despite all their faults and imperfections, laid bare in front of the other from the first moment on?

"Guess you could say," he began slowly, still looking at V who smiled back expectantly, "A mutual friend introduced us..."

A little sprinkle of the truth, now and then. To remind himself how lucky he was that a story crazier than what they could have ever come up with was their truth, and theirs alone.

[kitcatttt]

God dammit I have to make another one of these. This is another drama post, I hate making these but I don’t want people thinking I’m a scumbag.

Found this post about me. Wonderful. I’m not naming any names here.

The nsfw and vore rps, and everything being public. Me, and the friend I did it with, were new to tumblr, we didn’t know better, and we were too afraid to take it to dms because we were both honestly kinda scared of getting that close with someone. Me specifically, there have been instances where I have gotten too close with someone and then ended up losing contact with them. Does this justify what I did? No. Do I regret it? Yes. I no longer do it, and will never do it again.

…I’m a manipulation???? Genuinely asking, when did I manipulate anyone??? Like, I’m not trying to be mean or sarcastic I’m genuinely asking. I honest to god don’t know what you mean.

The person who made this post knows who they are. Why continue talking about me. I don’t know when the last time I’ve even thought about you was. Sure, I made a drama post about a month ago, but I didn’t even mention you in it. I want this to be over as much as you probably do, so why continue talking shit. This hurts me, it makes me sick, it makes me uncomfortable. I’m not gonna claim that I haven’t done bad things, but the person you’re supporting with basically your life has done worse things. So much worse.

No one knows this, but I have been kicked off several sites. Not by anyone on it, but by my parents, due to them not wanting me to be online and talking to people. I’m so fucking scared of losing this place it gives me anxiety. Hell, I heavily suspect I have clinical(?) anxiety and depression, as well as ADHD and autism, so that just adds to everything. I don’t want to be run out of here because people hate me.

I’m already a fucking mess dude. Life has been getting to me and I don’t know how much longer I can go on. I don’t know how much longer until I finally snap and actually go through with the thoughts I have about killing myself. Between this drama and my parents, they have only been getting more frequent. I’m trying my damn hardest to cope, but there’s only so much coping I can do.

Please tell me what I’ve done to deserve this? And tell me what your friend has done to warrant your undying and unwavering loyalty? I’m not saying you should take my side over your long time friend’s, but after all the stuff that they’ve done, and all the evidence of it? I would think that you would’ve left them by now.

I feel as if I should state that I do not wish any harm upon you, or your friend, or your partner (which I didn’t know you had, happy for you /gen). I would never wish harm upon anyone, as that isn’t what I want. I just want you guys to realize that bad things have been done by you guys, and change. I will say though, that some of the people on my side of the drama have been handling things in a way that I don’t approve of. I don’t condone their actions and would never do what they have done myself.

I can’t think of what else to put right now. I’m just gonna end the post here.

[kyra45]

i dont understand, did a scammer come into your inbox whining about being harassed?

I got a very angry message from another blogger who called me a child and told me it was entirely my fault they got harassed just because I had a post where I assumed the owner of a blog had been behind some harassing/rude asks I had got. I have since removed the post so they shouldn’t need to worry anymore about getting anons who apparently say I sent them there when I did not. The blogger also accused me of being obsessed over them when I barely had any posts here about them and had made it clear the original incident had made me uncomfortable enough that I didn’t really want to discuss it as it was someone unknown victim blaming me for how my stalker acted and therefore also saying it was my fault and I should quit saying I can’t stop them after I said my stalker uses a VPN to get around a block. However it seems likely the asks could have been sent by people who knew them but I’ll never really know regardless. They also told me I blocked a mutual of theirs which doesn’t seem important regarding what was going on. I don’t know who it was. I tend to generally block annoying anons.

While I was indeed incorrect regarding who ran the blog, it is wrong to point the blame at me entirely when I have made it quite clear several times over all my posts that I don’t condone harassment and that I tell my followers please don’t do it when I mention accounts in my warnings even if I tag a scammer in a post where I’m showing proof their scamming. Scammers tend to just ignore me and then yell at me too but they do it poorly since they just resort to laughable insults.

The point is, running a scam busting blog gets you yelled at by assorted members of the userbase. Some just don’t like what you do and will go out of their way to be a jerk and that is their choice. You can’t control them and they may go out of their way to point the blame on you by telling someone you sent them there. Scammers even do that often. Eventually you just have to deal with the fact that people will get harassed even if you have stated several times over that you don’t want it happening.

I will not discuss the situation much further as the blog likely has users following me who relay to them anything I say. That is all. But it wasn’t a scammer just another account.

Reblogs are also off so this post doesn’t get outside of here unless people link it.

[insomniaink95]

Don't hold your tongue to avoid conflict. Be an open ally to trans folk. You never know who in your posse needs to hear that message.

Several years ago, before I first really started using twitter or got active on social media at all, I would go to regular weekly game sessions where I would play TTRPGs with friends. This was back when I treated most of my characters as "support" and did my best to not role-play as role-playing made my social anxiety bite into my brain with its sharp venomous fangs.

One summer night after the game was done, when we were all hanging around outside for a bit and enjoying the unusual cool breeze before going our separate ways. An old friend who was visiting home from another state, and who was always eager to bring up topics that would make people interrogate themselves and their beliefs, posed a hypothetical question to our group of guys…

"What would you do if you were in a long term relationship with a woman, the love of your life, whom you were engaged to, the wedding date approaching… and she admitted to you that she was transgender and had been afraid to tell you because she didn't want to lose what the two of you had built?"

It was a good question for a group of (seemingly) young cis hetero guys to be asked back in the early 2010s. Most of my friends didn't really want to say anything and made noncommittal grunts to express that they were thinking about the question… but it was clear they were uncomfortable with the shame that could come with answering the "wrong" way and believed that either answer could be seen as shameful and would affect them socially.

This was back when my social anxiety was near its peak, so I want you to understand that I didn't really want to say anything either. I used to be much more conflict averse than I am now as well, but I had known one of the friends for my ENTIRE life, one that I knew since the moment they were born when I was 2 years old, one that I met when I was 6 years old, and the one I had the least history with who was a friend of a friend I had been around for about a decade but only sparsely within that decade.

My brain hadn't been constantly awash in gallons of adrenaline and cortisol for over a decade and a half, so while I still had the debilitating social anxiety, the extreme hyper-vigilance in social situations I experienced with it had faded over time. I was among friends. I shrugged and replied, still in a slightly noncommittal way with, "What difference does it make?" The guy I had only known sparsely for a decade stated roughly, "Nah, of course I would break up with him. He lied to me, there's no excusing that."

I had grown up on the internet during the early 2000's, mostly in and around the furry art scene, and it had shaped the way I thought about basically every actual meaningful thing I valued as a person and had affected who I WAS as a person in a massive way. That, added to the things I experienced back in school laid the groundwork of me developing into someone who was very passionate when it came to things like fairness, gaslighting, empathy, bigotry, reactionaries, greed… I could go on. So despite being held back by the nasty social anxiety and being quite conflict averse, I was also extremely passionate. It could've gone either way, 50/50 chance. I could've stayed quiet easily but I feel like my brain had a "Harry Dubois rolling a stat check moment" and it was a success.

I replied roughly, "You're saying your hypothetical fiancee, the love of your life, was right to be afraid of how you would react to her telling you she's transgender? And after the time you'd spent together and the love you'd shared you would just throw it all away?"

His response was roughly, "Should have told me up front. It's only right."

So I asked roughly, "So you're saying if she had told you up front you would've had a relationship and become engaged before getting married and everything would've been fine?"

His response was a definitive, "No!"

I replied roughly, "So knowing that one fact about the person who would develop into the love of your life, your fiance, would, if she told you up front, prevent you from ever wanting to get to know the love of your life, and if she waited until a later point in the relationship to tell you it would remove all value of your relationship with her in your eyes and you would dump her when the wedding was imminent?"

No response from him but I stated flatly, "That's fucked up."

He said, "It's my decision."

I replied, "Yup. Fucked up decision."

He said roughly, "That's how I feel, should've told me, and it's my decision."

I replied, "Okay. I'm just saying that's REALLY fucked up."

The conversation ended and he left shortly after that and then the rest of us dispersed and I didn't think about it again for roughly a decade.

Flash forward roughly a decade… A friend who was present within that group that day came out to me as trans. I had no idea. After we finished talking I did what everyone does when someone comes out as a different gender, different sexuality, that they're a furry, or that they're a porn artist, and you didn't have a clue. I looked back at the time we spent together and tried to see if there were any signals I could've picked up on. There weren't. She had spent her entire life up until that point keeping it a secret from everyone. I was no further than the third person she had told and the first person who had been told without it being a necessity. And then I remembered that discussion where I butted heads with the other guy. And I realized that what I said that day was probably important for her to hear at that time. I realized what she would've felt like if EVERYONE had remained silent too. Hearing what I said probably let her know that even here in hicktown she had at least one person she could confide in some day. That may well have been why I was the first person she told without necessity.

So yeah, in summation: "Don't hold your tongue to avoid conflict. Be an open ally to trans folk. You never know who in your posse needs to hear that message."