wistericals

[wistericals]

hello! are requests open? 😅 i’d like to request for a drabble with a newlywed jason and yn if so!

sure thing! short and sweet <3 jason todd x gn!reader. newlywed fluff.

****

"Okay, toaster from Wade and Logan. Keep or give away?"

"Who the fuck are Wade and Logan?" Jason asks, upside down on the couch. His tie and suit jacket are gone, two buttons on his shirt undone.

"Dunno. I think Roy invited them."

Jason sighs. "Give away. Why did people give us so many toasters?"

You both look at the four toaster boxes in front of you.

"Maybe it's the fashionable thing to have toasters in every room," you say.

You put the fifth toaster in the pile. You didn't even have a toaster on the registry.

"We should give them their toasters back when they get married," Jason says.

"That would be extremely funny, and I'm always ready to commit to the bit."

"I know. 'S why I married you."

That makes you giddy. You look at the ring on your left hand.

"Dude, I can't believe you actually married me," you say.

"I can't believe you're calling me 'dude.' Did I marry a frat boy?"

You grin at Jason. "I love you, man."

"Ridiculous. Gimme my ring back."

"Nope!" You slide to the floor and sit criss-crossed in front of Jason. He folds his arms. You kiss him, mouths slotting oddly due to him being upside down.

You pull away. "No take-backsies."

"Curses!" Jason shakes his fist. "Beaten by the take-backsies rule once again."

You shrug. "I guess you're stuck with me for the foreseeable future."

"Guess so."

He rolls onto his side, so he's lying on the couch properly. He leans in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss with all your might. Jason tugs you up onto the couch so you're atop him. You sit up on your knees, straddling his stomach. You take his left hand.

"Dude, you look really hot in this wedding ring," you say.

"Not as hot as you, babe."

"Way hotter," you say and suck his neck. Jason holds you steady with a hand on the small of your back.

"Tryin' t'maul me? Thank God pictures are done." He doesn't push you away, not even a little.

"Marriage turns me on, broski. I love a man who'll enter a legal contract with me."

"You're a freak," Jason says. "I love you."

You sit up and grin. "I love you too, J.T. Morgan."

He pulls a face. "That's worse than broski."

"Is it, though?"

"It's actually the worst thing I've ever been called," Jason says, deadpan. "My first day as your husband and I'm already being bullied."

"I was bullying you way before you became my husband, J-dog."

"Now you're just saying anything."

"Fine." You lean in so close that your perception warps, and Jason's face looks like it's in a fish-eye camera. "How 'bout I call you pretty boy?"

"Hm." He shifts the way he does when he's getting flustered. "I'll allow it."

"Sweet boy? Angel? Honey bunches? Handsome? Love of my life?"

He clears his throat. "Any of those will do fine, yeah."

You grin and kiss his cheek, watching as Jason pulls that soft, shy smile. The same smile he gave you when you said "I do." You'll never forget it.

You snuggle into his chest. Jason wraps his arms around you, throwing a leg over yours.

"What about the gifts?" he asks.

You shrug. "They can wait. Right now, I'm spending quality time with my husband."

His arms tighten around you. "Now that's a name I'll definitely never get tired of being called."

[wistericals]

# HOW BATBOYS REACT TO YOU WEARING THEY'RE COLOR ── .✦ ( eg. nails, clothes, anything ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so I first did a small idea of this (here) and then I thought why not do it based off this anon (here) so yeahh, anyways I kinda fell so off course like genuinely I need to make more batboys content, tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick notices instantly. He’s hyper-aware of the blue.

“Wait, are those nails painted Nightwing blue? Babe, did you do that for me?” Cue the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

Compliments you non-stop. He’s not subtle about how much he loves it.

“You’re really pulling off my color, you know. Almost makes me think you’re trying to steal my spotlight.”

Gets extra touchy holding your hand, brushing your hair back, etc. “You’re so cute I can’t even deal right now.”, “It’s just blue and black colored nails dick.”

If it’s a clothing piece, he’ll joke, “Matching outfits for day? Say the word, and we’ll be Gotham’s most fashionable duo.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason notices but plays it cool at first. “Nice color choice,” he says casually, though he’s dying and resurrecting inside.

If it’s your nails “You’re carrying my whole brand on those hands. Should I start paying you royalties?”

If it’s clothing, “Careful, babe, wearing red this well might make you a target and you might be mistaken for me.” But his smirk shows he’s all for it.

Low-key proud you’re repping his colors but doesn’t know how to express it well. Might just stare a little longer than usual.

Ends up pulling you closer while murmuring, “You look good in my color. Too good.”

Secretly starts thinking of ways to return the gesture, like wearing something in your favorite color. (He’s hoping it’s not absurd neon colors😭)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Blushes immediately. He’s not even subtle about it. “Wait… is that red because of… me?”

Obsesses over the details. “Did you match your nails to the exact shade of my suit? That’s, like, the coolest thing ever.”

Super flustered but also unbelievably touched. “I didn’t know you liked my colors that much.”

If it’s a clothing item, he’d be stunned for a moment before saying, “You look so… wow. You’re killing it.”

Gets a little shy but can’t stop glancing at you all day. Ends up fiddling with your hand if it’s your nails.

Might text you later "Thanks for making my day with that. You didn’t have to, but I really, really loved it.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Notices instantly but acts unimpressed. “Hmph. So you’re inspired by me today?”

Low-key thrilled but refuses to let you know. If it’s your nails, he might sarcastically say, “Subtle.” But he’s secretly staring.

If it’s clothing, “Green suits you. Perhaps you should wear it more often.” It’s his way of saying you look amazing.

After some time, he’ll let his walls down. “It’s not awful… You look better in my colors than I do.”

Will absolutely brag to Alfred or the others about it later. “Clearly, they understand quality when they see it.”

Ends up gifting you something else in his colors—maybe a scarf or bracelet—just to see you wear it again.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce notices immediately but doesn’t say much at first. He’ll just give you that classic Bruce Wayne smirk.

If it’s clothing, he’ll subtly comment, “You look good in black. Suits you.��� (High praise from him)

If it’s nails, he’ll gently take your hand and examine them. “Interesting choice. Are you sending a message, or…?”

Deep down, he’s really touched but doesn’t know how to express it. Might make a dry joke like, “So you’re my sidekick now?”

Later, when you’re alone, he’d admit, “It’s nice seeing you in something that reminds me of… us.”

Low-key loves the idea of you wearing his colors often. He’d never say it outright, but his actions like buying you more black and yellow pieces make it clear (to a point half your dresses were either black or yellow even you’re gold jewelry has yellow hints and accents😭😭)

[wistericals]

Urgent help 🙏 📣

I stand on the rubble of our home, but my heart is filled with hope. I need your help to leave Gaza and complete my education to build my future. Every donation, no matter how small, will help me achieve my dream. Join us on a journey of rebuilding

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Thank you for your support. Every bit of your kindness means so much to me 💔

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[wistericals]

After a year and four months of the war on Gaza, I am no longer able to meet the needs of my family, relatives and siblings. For your information, I support my wife, daughter, mother and 4 siblings, including my sister Lian, who has Down syndrome. Help Lian and her family survive the disaster in Gaza and meet their worldly needs. Thank you to everyone who helps us.🙏🙏🙏💔💔💔

[wistericals]

Hello, I am Umm Anas from the northern Gaza Strip. 🍉🙏😭

We are a family of 12.

We are in the northern Gaza Strip and have been besieged since the beginning of the war. There is no food, no water, no medicine. There is education for my children. Schools have been bombed and universities have been bombed. Our homes have been damaged. Food is very expensive. The prices are high. 🍉🙏

Please donate to me, the link is in my bio. 🍉

Please follow me on Instagram so my account reaches more people 🙏🍉

[wistericals]

URGENT: HELP SAVE THE LIFE OF MY CHILD

I'm Amal, a mother of three children, living under the weight of the genocide taking place in Gaza. 🍉

The Israeli occupation forces launched drone strikes on my husband, Fayez, and my son, Mohammad.

my husband was hit in the head, while my son Mohammad was wounded in his legs.

Although my husband's condition has stabilized, my son is still suffering immensely and urgently needs medical treatment outside Gaza.

So I started a fundraising campaign to save my son before he dies.

Ddonate Via Paypal 👇

I lost most of my family. I'm afraid to lose my son too 🥺 .

I need your help please donate and share, evry contribution, no matter how small, brings us hope in these dark times.

Mohammed deserves to live a happy and healthy life, just like every other child on this earth.

So I humbly ask you to donate even a little or at least reblog this appeal.

—————————————————————————

[wistericals]

social skills training, solmaz sharif

[wistericals]

# “WHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.” ── .✦ ( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I don’t see this as angst!reader but I’m writing a angst fic soon!! )

a/n: this is a request by (here) anyways 620 followers under a month?!?! What the hell tysmm this was shocking to wake up to anywayss um yeah here, I genuinely think this was like only a general hcs of what only batboys cry over but I turned it into like a s/o hc too so sorry tags: ( batboys x s/o )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether you’re hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesn’t know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, he’d hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

When You’re Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldn’t talk to him, he’d break down too. “Why didn’t you come to me? You’re not alone—you’re never alone.” His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, he’d cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. He’d spend the entire night trying to fix it because the thought of you being upset because of him kills him. (He has a bit of people pleasing tendencies like me 😭)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Thinking He Doesn’t Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because he’s “too broken,” he’d quietly lose it. You’d find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, “Why are you even with me? I don’t want to ruin you too.”

You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldn’t save you where you were hurt or out of his reach he’d shatter. Holding your unconscious body, he’d whisper through gritted teeth and tears, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m sorry—I should’ve been faster. Stronger.”

Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didn’t mean, he’d be crushed afterward. He’d cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldn’t forgive him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

You Pulling Away: Tim doesn’t always know how to balance his work and love for you. If he noticed you drifting away or feeling neglected because of his vigilante life, he’d hit a breaking point. One night, he’d find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do better—I promise.”

When You’re in Pain: Tim’s logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in pain—physically or emotionally would be his undoing. He’d try to keep it together for you, but once he’s alone, he’d sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.

If You’re Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. He’d bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, he’d collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, “Please come back to me. Please.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Failing to Protect You: Damian is fiercely protective of the people he loves, and if you were ever hurt on his watch, it would destroy him. He’d stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, “You are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.”

Realizing You’re Hurt by Him: Damian doesn’t always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt you—through sharp words or coldness—he’d crumble. He’d isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, “I am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.”

If You Were Gone: Damian doesn’t cry easily, but if he lost you, he’d lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yours—a sweater, a necklace and whispers, “I failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.”

GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ── .✦

Dick: He’d cry watching you do something incredibly mundane—like laughing at a joke or helping a stranger because he realizes how lucky he is to have you. The thought of a life without you, even for a second, shakes him to his core.

Jason: He’d cry when he thinks about how you’ve accepted him so completely. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken,” he’d say through tears, pulling you into a hug. “You love me. No one’s ever loved me like this before.”

Tim: He’d cry in relief after a near-miss—maybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but you’re okay. He’d break down in your arms, holding you tightly. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Damian: He’d cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. He’d brush your hair from your face and murmur, “You are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldn’t save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harm’s way, he’d be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure you’re stable. But when the danger is over and he’s alone, the walls would finally break. He’d sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, “I can’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive that.” His tears would fall silently because he rarely lets himself cry but for you, the thought of losing you would be unbearable.

When You Break Down First: Bruce is emotionally guarded, but if he ever saw you crying really crying because of something he caused or something he failed to protect you from, it would destroy him. He’d pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.” When you’ve fallen asleep, he’d sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.

During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesn’t lose control often, but when he does, his words can cut deep. If a fight escalated to the point where you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence, the guilt would eat him alive. He’d find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, “I can’t believe I let that happen. I promised I’d be better.” He wouldn’t hesitate to apologize immediately, but he’d cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.

Realizing You’re the Light in His Life: Bruce is haunted by his past, and sometimes, the weight of his mission makes him forget the beauty in life. But when he sees you—laughing, smiling, or simply existing—he realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, he’d sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve them. But I won’t let anything happen to them. Ever.”

If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. He’s already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, he’d wander the manor like a ghost, sitting by your favorite chair or staring at a photo of you for hours. In the dead of night, when no one is around, he’d finally let himself grieve—hands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)

MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ── .✦

Seeing You Safe After a Scare: If you ever came home late or after a dangerous night out, Bruce would hold you tightly, kissing the top of your head and murmuring, “You’re home. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.

When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isn’t always good with words, but when you’re there—kissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. He’d quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, “They make this life worth living.”

If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought you’d be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, he’d break. He’d pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I need you.”

[wistericals]

What traits are they attracted to for jason n pg please💖 :0

What traits are they attracted to? | Jason Todd x Reader

I think if someone were to ask this of Jason—maybe Dick in a thoughtless fit during a particularly boring stakeout, Jason would reply with a scowl and an embarrassed shrug. He wouldn’t bother to answer and let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, he’ll think to himself—what would be the point in answering?

He’s legally dead in Gotham City, a vigilante with a bounty on his head.

It’s not exactly like he’s spoiled for choice in the dating realm.

And—adds a nasty little voice in the back of his head, one that sounds eerily like the Joker (even dead he haunts Jason like a ghost)—there’s the scars.

His torture under Joker’s hands had left him his body a patchwork of scars and knotted flesh. And each one of them tells a story: the splash marks on his back where the Joker slowly dripped acid on him, watching it eat away at the flesh and boil the fat. The ring of thickened skin around his throat, where he had once (once?) been strangled with piano wire.

And then

(And then—)

There’s the brand.

He’s seen how people react to it—even in a place in Gotham City, brands are not something one sees often. It speaks of an intimacy to violence that even Gothamites are uncomfortable with.

His face is something that makes people look away. The quick, almost imperceptible widening of their eyes, then the averted gaze.

As if he were something hideous

(He is hideous.)

The voice again, snide and burning in acidic, like the slow drip of chemicals on his back, blackening the skin and boiling the fat.

(And he so hungry, that he feels his stomach rumble at the smell of his own burning flesh. There is a certain kind of humiliation in that, an animal kind of shame: the knowledge that, if given the choice, he would have eaten his own flesh just to ease the ache in belly.)

The question echoes in his head, and it sounds uncomfortably like laughter: Who would ever want him?

So when asked—what traits does he find attractive?—he doesn’t answer. He bites his tongue, he pretends he doesn’t care. But in reality, he just doesn’t see the point.

After all, what is the point of answering, when no one else would find him attractive?

Jason has his work, his missions, and his purpose as a vigilante.

He has more than he ever had as a street rat in East End, palms cracked and bleeding as he sorts through yesterday’s trash to maybe find something that will ease the gnaw of hunger in his belly.

(The smell of his own burning flesh.)

He has a safe house, something to keep the rain off his head and to keep him warm during the winter. He has a gun to protect himself.

He has a purpose.

Except.

(Except.)

God help him, he wants more.

There is a hunger to Jason Todd that he is afraid that he will never be quite able to fill.

It is an orphan’s hunger, shared with every abandoned street rat that ever lived in the gutters of East End.

It is a hunger for a roof over one’s head, one that is not made of rotten plywood and stained tarpaulin. A gnawing ache in their belly for a meal that does not have to be fought for at every turn.

A longing for a home, a place to belong.

God help him, he wants to be held dear.

He wants a roof over his head that is not just made of four walls, a place, however safe, that is only ever somewhere to lay his head on for the night.

He wants a meal that isn’t fought for or eaten absentmindedly for nourishment during long stakeouts.

He wants someplace to come home to, somewhere warm to keep out the cold. He wants warm coffee on cold mornings and soft music playing on an old speaker, and he wants someone’s smile when he talks about his favorite book.

God help him, he wants you.

(And yet, and yet.)

Who would ever want him?

So when asked, he does not answer. He replies with a scowl and an embarassed shrug, and he’ll let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, what would be the point in answering when no one else would ever find him attractive?

[wistericals]

Hello my friend I'm from GAZA, I ask you to Donate for my father. This is a great request from me. He needs a lot of expenses every day, about $200a day for hospital treatment, medicine

and he needs a surgery that cost 5000$

I hope you publish this for me, I have full hope in you.

Please Donate if you can in my link in bio 🙏

Thanks 🙏

.

[wistericals]

Hey! Would you be willing to do a fic with Jason x College student reader. Since Jason reads so much, be probably is pretty good at writing papers, so what if the reader needed help with her paper for a class and had Jason help with the editing and revising of it? If not, that's totally okay!

why did college have to be so damn hard? there was no reason for you to be writing a ten page essay on a random monday night. your professor — someone who you definitely would not miss — was just a grumpy old man who decided to dump a ton of work on his students because his life is miserable.

writing the essay itself wasn’t necessarily terrible. it was the reading it over and over to make sure it was absolutely perfect. if you were going to spend your night writing you might as well spend a little extra time to get that good grade. you were so focused on the 6th page that you didn’t even realize your window slowly start to rise, and a man’s dirty boots landing on your carpet.

“what are you doin?” jason asked, sitting at the edge of your bed while undoing his shoe laces. he took in your figure, hunched over and bent in a position he knew wasn’t comfortable.

“you didn’t use the door.” you reprimanded, looking at your boyfriend with annoyance. the gunk now on your carpet would just be another thing to worry about.

jason rolled his eyes before walking over to where you were perched at your desk, placing his hand on the flat surface to lean and observe. you sneered as you jerked your head away from him.

“i fucking hate that old douchebag. i’ve been working on this paper for hours.” your words did nothing to phase jason. instead, he took it from your hands so he could lean back and read it. your room was quiet besides the occasional sound of paper flipping on jason’s part. eventually his phase morphed into one of confusion.

“it’s good, what’re you worrying so much for?” the chair you were sitting on groaned loudly as you threw yourself back in dramatics. “if it’ll help, i’ll work on it tonight. just go to bed.”

your brows furrowed. you looked at him with pure confusion. “are you sure?” jason used his unoccupied hand to push hair out of your face, eventually cupping your cheek with his palm.

“of course.”

the next morning you turned your paper into the box. that entire day you were a walking vessel of anxiety, anxious to learn about what grade you had gotten. you hadn’t read jason’s work but you trusted him enough to have done a good job. when you returned to collect your paper at the end of the day, your professor handed it to you with an impressed look.

“this is probably some of the best work i’ve seen in awhile…” he hummed, taking a sip of his coffee. “keep it up.”

let’s just say that night jason was treated like a king.

[wistericals]

just a thought for a logan prompt, what about reader with feral traits? it could be either feral!logan or not. i just like the thought of logan connecting with someone who could really understand his feral behavior! no pressure to write this if you dont want to, love your work! 💕

this gave me the idea of what if the reader in animal had a similar mutation as logan with feral traits? so here's a little drabble about it. (this drabble isn’t connected to the series, just kinda inspired by.)

-

your entire life you’ve had to hide your true self. as a very young child it was slightly more acceptable - you behaved strangely but surely you’d grow out of those strange habits. the problem came when you didn’t, when the growling and the biting and the scenting remained no matter how many years passed.

you were bullied and teased relentlessly, both by those who hated you and by those who claimed to be your friends. your parents were just as bad, telling you that if you wanted to act like an animal, they’d treat you like one. the only people who truly loved you were your grandparents, who had died a few years ago, leaving you to inherit their farm.

you’re much happier living in the middle of nowhere. it suits your nature, a wild part of you that cries out when you remain indoors for too long, when you’re stranded in concrete cities far from any natural wilderness.

you’re close enough to a town that you can go if you require anything, but far enough that no one will bother you under the pretense of ‘being neighbourly’. and the solitude means you don’t have to constantly worry about putting on a mask, a false personality that takes all of your energy to maintain.

everything changes the day you see a naked man running into your barn. 

you tense at the sight, a growl escaping you at the thought of a stranger on your property, the hair on your arms raising as your fight or flight mode activates. your instincts win over the self-preservation that’s been drilled into you since birth, the voice in your head saying to lock the door and hide inside until the man hopefully leaves.

so you approach the barn, your steps expertly silent. despite this, he notices you immediately, growling at another presence in the barn in much the same way you had earlier. it almost makes you laugh, but then his claws come out, stealing the breath from your lungs.

he’s wild as he stares at you, not like the predator he should be but rather with a fear that reminds you of prey when they finally realise they’re being hunted. you can smell it in his scent, his desire to flee, and yet he doesn’t.

somehow you convince him to follow you inside. it’s certainly a terrible idea, and yet you can’t ignore the pull that you feel towards him, the way his mere presence feels like coming home in a way you’d never felt with anyone before. the word pack rattles around in your brain, an echo bouncing back no matter how much you try to push it away.

you feed him and help him bathe and offer him fresh clothes, and by the time the sun sets, he’s mostly recovered from his shock. you let him stay with you, and as he grows more comfortable around you, day after day, you start to notice it.

he subtly sniffs at things in the same way you’d trained yourself not to do. he growls and purrs and grunts, animal noises to express how he feels rather than human words. he’s horribly possessive over anything he considers as belonging to him. he’s aggressive, scratching and biting when he’s angry. he’s more gentle when he play fights, still biting but gentle, just nipping at your skin. he makes nests of blankets and pillows that he steals from your room, whimpering like a wounded puppy when you’d once tried to take one of your pillows back.

and in return, he notices the way you hold back in trying to do the same. the way you press your nose into the crook of his neck where his scent is strongest whenever you need comfort, the way you bite back growls when he takes something from you, the soft purring that escapes you when he scratches your scalp.

there’s a quiet understanding that forms, the knowledge that you’re the same. he doesn’t have to hide his animalistic traits with you and neither do you have to hide from him. it takes time to unlearn years of hiding, but with logan, you have all the time in the world.

[wistericals]

Okay but imagine Bucky being the little spoon for the first time 💕

Bucky was touch-avoidant at first.

You'd known that since your first date.

And you could hardly blame him for it. Positive human contact wasn't something he'd had much of in his life. At least, not for the last few decades. Not only had HYDRA left scars on his body and mind, but there were some etched so deeply in his soul that he thought they'd never heal. Ones that left him freezing up every time a hand reached out to him, terrified that it would cause him pain.

It had taken him months to do something as innocent as hold your hand.

And even longer for you to stop hating yourself after an attempt to touch his face had him flinching away from you.

(He knew you would never hurt him, he'd told you, but it broke your heart to know that he was so used to pain that an open hand coming towards his face had him expecting to get hit.)

You were more than willing to go at his pace, to take things as slowly as he needed. Bucky never understood why you stayed with someone who shied away from human contact, but you did. You were there for him through every therapy session, every night he woke up screaming, offering him words of comfort, a cup of tea, and the knowledge that he wasn't suffering alone. You were more than okay with taking as much as he was willing to give, never pushing his boundaries. You made him feel good, made him feel safe. He never dreamed he would say that about someone again.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to let you in. It started with holding your hand, then letting you lay on his shoulder while you watched TV, little kisses on the cheek and quick hugs, letting you play with his hair, eventually graduating to full-on cuddling and sharing a bed. Now he welcomed you sitting on his lap or laying on his chest, always holding you as close as physically possible.

Bucky loved you more than he could ever put into words, you were his anchor, his guiding light, his everything. You saw him for who he was, all of his scars and walls and edges, and you still wanted him. Still loved him. And that meant the world to him.

However, as the two of you got closer, you noticed one thing was becoming increasingly obvious:

He was deeply touch-starved.

Now that he welcomed human contact again, you noticed that Bucky almost always wanted it. He pulled you into his arms the second you came home from work, rarely letting you go. If you two were sitting on the couch together, you were immediately nestled against him, your head on his shoulder. He'd lay on your lap sometimes when you watched a movie together, dosing off with his arm wrapped around your legs as you ran your fingers through his hair. At night you really didn't even need your pillow anymore, Bucky's chest was more comfortable.

And this wasn't something you had a problem with.

Hell, if you had it your way you would never leave his arms.

But still, you want to do more for him. To give him the safety and comfort that you get from him holding you every moment of the day.

Which brings you to tonight.

It started like any other night, the two of you cuddled up under a blanket watching TV until you started to nod off. Bucky carrying you to the bedroom when you dramatically insisted you were to tired to walk the whole 25 feet at most, and the two of you getting ready for bed. But when he laid down beside you and reached out to pull you to his chest and hold you to sleep like he did every night, you stopped him.

"Hey, let's try something different tonight," you smiled softly. Bucky nodded, looking at you with concerned, nervous eyes. You opened your arms, "c'mere, Baby."

He cocked an eyebrow, but still awkwardly shifted towards you. You wrapped him in a hug, pulling him close to you and cradling his head against your chest.

Bucky tensed in your embrace. For all his romantic exploits in the 40s, this was entirely new to him. He had always been the big spoon, the one cuddling his dates. He was the man, it's what was expected of him. And it's not that he hated it. It was nice, having someone curled against him, their head on his chest, knowing they finding safety and security in in his arms. It made him happy. And falling asleep and waking up with you in his arms, nestled against his chest while he played with your hair or rubbed your back brought him peace like he'd never felt before.

But this?

Being wrapped in your arms, enveloped in your warmth, your heartbeat steady and soothing in his ear as you played with his hair?

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

He slowly started to relax, every one of his muscles starting to unknot as you held him.

"Does this feel good, Sweetheart?" You kissed the top of his head. Bucky nodded and nuzzled his face deeper into your chest, his stubble tickling your skin, "good, Buck. I like helping you feel good."

Your free hand started rubbing large soothing circles into his back, and it was everything Bucky could do to keep from breaking down right then and there.

No one had been gentle with him in a long time.

No one had ever been this gentle with him, if he was being honest.

He didn't notice he was crying until the hand in his hair moved down to his face, thumbing away the tears on his cheek.

"What's wrong, Bucky?" You asked, "are you okay? Do you want me to stop--"

"No!" He responded, a little too quickly, "no, it's not... These are good tears. No one's ever held me like this and I just... It feels good, Doll. You feel good."

You hold him a little tighter and kiss his forehead, your thumb still stroking his cheek.

"You deserve to feel good, Bucky," you whisper into his hair, "I'm glad I can give you some comfort."

He slowly drifted off as you held him, safe and warm and content.

[wistericals]

Listen, a jason todd soul mate au already sounds amazing, BUT THIS RIGHT HERE??? DELICIOUS.

I just can't get the idea of soulmate!jason where you share scars out of my head. Jason is a canvas of scars. We all find them beautiful and wouldn't judge him even if we were held at gun point. But imagine you were getting those scars at the same time he was... it would be hard. Of course you are worried about your soulmate, but when you wake up with a permanent, very purposeful J branded onto your face, can you really tell me you wouldn't be embarrassed to go outside? Afraid of meeting your soulmate who seems to be either a criminal or in a very dangerous victim situation? Would you not be even a little angry that now your face is ruined? (I know there is makeup, but we are ignoring that for a second) Yes, you share these scars with your soulmate and somewhere along the line you'd find peace with them. But in the moment when you look in the mirror and find an autopsy scar... I can only imagine what you would feel. Oh, and poor Jason. He would never be able to forgive himself. He probably wouldn't even realize he has a soulmate because if you get a scar he wouldn't notice it beside all of his. This isn't a request. I just wanted to share my thoughts and hear yours. I'm asking a few different creators as well, but might miss someone because I haven't discovered them yet! Please feel free to ask for someone else's opinion as well

so full disclosure, i did already read rae's (@/heavysighing-dreamyeyes) take on this so i'm going to consciously choose to go in a slightly different direction.

how do you know that they're your soulmate's scars, other than the fact that the injuries that caused them were never yours? are they the same colour as a regular scar? do people look at a person and struggle to tell who earned what scar?

it's fun at first, in middle school to tell people fantastical stories about what your soulmate must have done to earn a scar. fought off a bear, went skydiving without a parachute, invented a new kind of handsaw. the other kids all eat it up. none of them have a soulmate leading such an interesting life after all. you don't notice the worried titters of adults, the lingering eyes that don't look at a new scar that appeared overnight and think wicked but instead go abuse.

at what age do you start carrying around proof of your own medical history so the cops don't get called on your family, your caretakers? when do you realize everyone's started looking at you - at your soulmate - as a victim? is it when your sleeves don't cover the scars anymore, when you stop wearing shorts because of the pitying looks you always get?

there's so many of them - so many of their marks on your body - that even you start to lose track of any marks that you've earned. the scar on your knee from a scrape that didn't heal right, the burn scar on the pad of your thumb from a cooking experiment gone wrong. if even you forget that they're your own, how is jason supposed to tell the difference from the hundreds he's caused? jason not believing he ever had a soulmate because he would have at least one scar by now, right? jason who is so half-mad over the life he could have lived and the lives that weren't saved, who looks at his one-sided existence as further proof that he is unloveable.

puberty is cruel to almost everyone, but to go through it not only dealing with bad acne break outs, a body you still don't know the dimensions of, and intense facial scarring on top of that? it's hard not to look at all the people around you blooming into adults while you feel perpetually doomed to be the ugly duckling. you can tell yourself as many times as you need to that it's not your soulmate's fault, that whatever is happening to them is clearly horrific, but it doesn't soothe the sting of wanting to cut up every photo from your high school prom or the curl of revulsion when you catch sight of a new mark.

jason almost spirals into a panic attack the first time he catches sight of the j carved into his cheek mirrored on yours, a stranger in a crowd. it means that he's not alone, that he's never been alone. it also means that every wound he's ever had inflected on himself has been replicated on you and that sends him into another spiral of shame.

for you and him, loving each other would be a lesson in loving yourselves. the scars that jason can trace so tenderly along your ribs is also the one he refuses to look at on himself. the scars on his face you trace so tenderly are also the ones you work hardest to hide away. both of you have to learn to love these parts of yourself through loving them on each other, because otherwise your love starts to ring hollow.

[wistericals]

light | bucky barnes

bucky barnes x sunshine!reader; neighbour au — ★ 1k words

summary: bucky meets you, his bright, new neighbour, and is instantly endeared

tw: nothing, tooth-rotting fluff <3

a/n: first time writing for bucky… please be nice 🥲 consider this my official letter of intent into the mcu fandom on tumblr LOL

Ding dong! Bucky is quick to get to the door, abandoning his attempts at brewing coffee. The espresso machine Sam had gotten him sits sadly on the kitchen platform, likely broken from the looks of the dented knob and crooked buttons. Some things he could get a hang of easily — appliances were not one of them, and neither was using his metal arm with gentleness. He’d have to try and fix it back up later.

He pulls the door open, pleasantly surprised to see you standing there, with your twinkling eyes and sweet smile. Bucky hadn’t known what love felt like in a long, long time. But he thought the ache in his heart when he first saw you came dangerously close to it.

His first encounter with you was a couple of days ago, when he was just moving in. Dr. Raynor had told him that a move would be good for him, giving him a chance to have a fresh start. Bullshit. The only thing he’d gotten out of the new neighbourhood so far was a headache because of the sweltering heat, and a pulled muscle in his arm — the non-metal one — from hauling boxes up the stairs to his apartment.

He was busy cursing his therapist under his breath when you showed up, like some sort of angel in his plight. You jogged over to him brightly, hand wrapped around the leash of a fluffy brown dog. Bucky’s first instinct was to push you away when you offered to help. But you were persistent, and he gave in on account of shutting you up.

Your smile had widened immediately, and he remembered wondering how anyone could be so happy to help a stranger.

He couldn’t have been more wrong. Your enthusiasm only grew with each minute you spent together. It was like you couldn’t stop chattering — asking him where he was from, how long he was going to stay, and everything else under the sun. He hadn’t asked, but he got to know a lot about you too. He now knew you worked in a clinic near the neighbourhood, you lived alone with your dog (whose name was Milo), and that you weren’t particularly close to any family.

Bucky couldn’t help but soften more and more by the second. You were incredibly endearing, all soft smiles and loud laughter. It was like catching the first glimpses of morning light after being locked up in darkness for a lifetime, and frankly, he was smitten. You told him that you lived a few floors up and that you’d be back to visit soon. When you held Milo’s paw in your hand, the dog all bundled up in your arms, and waved him the most adorable little goodbye, he knew he was gone.

He was more than happy to see you on his front door today. You were all dolled up, pink tube top with a frilly white skirt. He couldn’t help the smile that quirks his lips. “Hey.”

“Hi!” you chirp, already digging into your bag for something. Bucky eyes you with an arched eyebrow as you pull out a Tupperware box, handing it to him excitedly. “Brownies.”

“For me?” He hesitantly takes it from you, surprised. There’s a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You step into the house as he pulls the door open wider, confirming it with a nod. “Yeah, for you. Baked them myself.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat, closing the door behind you. No one’s ever done something like this for him before, niceness for the hell of it. It makes him want to hug you. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all,” you brush him off, flashing him a small smile before turning your attention to his living room. He watches as you peruse the place curiously, eyes darting all over before landing on the espresso machine. “So, James…” you start unsteadily as you walk towards the kitchen.

Bucky lets out a huff of laughter. “James? Where’d you get that?”

“I asked the security guard downstairs about you, didn’t let him off till he told me your name,” you smile sheepishly, twirling your curls around your finger. “He said it was James Buka… Bucha…”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he interrupts with a fond sort of amusement. “Bucky for short.”

“Bucky,” you repeat with a giggle. “Cute. I like it. Also, do you need help with this?” You gesture at the smoking coffee machine, spilt puddles of the liquid dotting the kitchen platform.

“Oh, um,” he shrugs, a light pinkness dusting his cheeks. “Sure.” He watches as you grab a new mug and pour some milk into the machine. Your tongue juts out adorably as you click the buttons concentratedly. “What’s yours?”

“Y/n,” you mutter, straightening up proudly as the brown liquid starts to spout into the mug. You turn to him with an accomplished grin. “It’s working.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, heart squeezing in his chest when you give him a wink. “Y/n. That’s a pretty name.”

Bucky swears he can see the blush on your cheeks, but it’s hard to make out with your back turned to him. You busy yourself with wiping the spilt coffee, but he hears the smile in your voice when you thank him.

You hand him his coffee before grabbing one yourself, making yourself comfortable on his couch. He leans against the platform as he talks to you.

Surprisingly, you’re not as chatty today. Perhaps you were more comfortable around him, feeling less of a need to fill the silence. He tells you about the war when you point to a picture on the wall, one from the 40s, in which his arm is slung around Steve’s shoulder. He’s glad you don’t ask about Steve.

Soon, you make to leave. “I have an appointment with a friend,” you smile apologetically as you stand, dusting yourself off. “This was fun, though.”

Bucky nods and walks you to the front door, pulling it open. “It was.”

“See you around sometime?” you ask hopefully as you pull your heels on.

He softens, voice tinged with affection. “Sure. Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow, if you’re free?”

“Really?” you beam. “Great. I’ll be here.”

You call out to Bucky as you make your way to the stairs, vigorously waving your hand in farewell. He gives you a small wave in return, trying his best not to smile.

[wistericals]

🚨Urgent help is needed for my family🚨

✅ Verified campaign – please check the end of the story 🔍📌

Hello dears! I am Ali and thank you for looking at us with compassion and I ask you to support my campaign to help me achieve my goal. I am in dire need of your support now to help my family survive and be safe. Gaza is a very dangerous place both in terms of living and life. I need your financial support to enable me to get the basic needs for my family until the Rafah crossing is reopened to transport my family to safety and peace. Please help a family survive through your small donations or through your contributions to others. Thank you so much for standing by those who are there 😭🇵🇸 Need.https://gofund.me/36240bc1

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #133 ) Vetted here by @90-ghost

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[wistericals]

This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

Imagine you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams, memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!

Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82

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