#winning. winning. winning. i am ALWAYS winning

[fxlling-slxwly]

I fear the dough always wins because I am so rarely calm in the kitchen (despite using cooking to soothe myself)

like the first rule of cooking is to have fun and be yourself and the first rule of baking is to stay calm because the dough can sense fear

[cupidhoons]

+1 new notification from cupidhoons

( 성훈 ) ─── YOUNG&FINE ⟡ in which . . . sunghoon's charm and relentless teasing makes it harder for you to pull away from him

park sunghoon x reader

fluff rich boy hoon ⋅ 3OO+

n. the simple life is for me i am sick of having to be fancy all the time 😿

“GOD HOON YOU ARE SO FULL OF YOURSELF.” You say, sighing as you try to pull away from his grasp, but he only tightens his grip on your waist. 

He chuckles softly, a grin playing on his lips as he looks at your annoyed expression. “I’m handsome, I’m tall, I’m rich and smart,” you scoff at his cockiness. “How could someone not like me?”

“You're impossible,” you huff, shifting in his grasp. His cologne—a maddening blend of something fresh and expensive—invades your senses, making it harder to focus on your irritation. 

“You forgot to add annoying to your perfect list,” you snap glaring up at him. 

Sunghoon tilts his head, his grin widening. “Sorry, sweetheart. I'm handsome, tall, rich…and annoyingly charming.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into that low teasing tone that always gets under your skin. “Admit it, you can't resist me.” 

Your eyes narrow as you let out another scoff. “Resist you? I can barely stand you Hoon.”

“And yet,” he counters smoothly, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to make your pulse stutter, “here you are, not running away.”

You hate how your body betrays you, how your breath catches just slightly at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the room worth his attention. Determined not to let him win, you press both hands against his chest, shoving lightly.

“Let me go, Hoon,” you say, trying to sound stern but faltering when you feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to consider your demand. His gaze flickers to your lips for a brief second, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s a spark of mischief there. “What if I don’t feel like it?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, but you force yourself to roll your eyes. “Then I’ll make you,” you retort, your voice dripping with defiance.

He smirks, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’d like to see you try.”

[mrs-hatake]

jjk men and their toxic traits

warnings: love bombing, obsession, silent treatment as punishment, purity culture, possessiveness, mentions of drug and alcohol addiction, self harm, suicide attempt, self loathing, stalking and younger man x older woman.

a/n: idk what to tell you besties. i did have fun writing nanami's tho, and i think sukuna's the most accurate lol tell me what y'all think :D

Toji: Indifference 

after dating Toji for years, putting him with his recklessness during his assassination assignments, watching him bleed on the bathroom floor while shiu poorly stitches him up, having to move apartments every few months because someone with a grudge or an enemy hunts him down. 

dealing with all of that crap, you’ve exploded once you’ve reached your boiling point.

as much as you love toji with all of your heart, want him to see the beauty of the world and feel alive again, you simply cannot stand by while the man you love kills himself.

that’s why you gave him an ultimatum; change careers and he fixes his life  or you walk out.

you’ve known from the start that toji’s a stubborn mule but you didn’t think that he’d choose his job over you. 

though heartbroken at first, you eventually end up packing your things. maybe now that things have gotten serious and toji sees you slowly removing pieces of yourself from his life, it’d serve as a wake up call.

toji doesn’t even bat an eye.

he’s lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching a baseball match from the television set he’d stolen from his family.

even when you block his view — hands on your hips and all — he just scoots aside and continues watching.

��you knew what you were getting yourself into from the start.” comes toji’s monotone voice after your yelling, “i’ve warned you and you accepted who i am.”

silence fills the room. you stare at him, hoping that once toji sees the heartbreak, rage, frustration and that little bit of moisture glistening your pretty eyes, he’d see the error of his ways.

but no such thing happens.

instead, toji continues to sit on the couch with his mesmerizing forest green eyes, the very ones that made you fall in love with him, are glued to the screen.

when you march to your bedroom to drag out your luggage, toji doesn’t even offer a goodbye. he doesn’t even watch you leave. toji doesn’t bother to chase after you when you’re halfway down the stairs.

Satoru: Love Bombing and Obsession

having been born as the blessed one, nothing really impresses gojo satoru. 

he has mountains of money in his bank account, a stream of endless good luck and women kissing the ground he walks on. with a snap of his fingers, he can have whatever he desires at the palm of his hand.

yet, once you reject him, something inside satoru snaps. no one, no one has ever rejected gojo satoru. it’s always the opposite. 

when you reject him for the fourth time in less than a week, satoru draws up a plan that will surely win you over.

it starts off small. he sends breathtaking bouquets of flowers to your work place with cute little notes praising your beauty. whenever he sees exquisite jewelry, he’s sending them to your house, asking you to wear them. when he’s feeling very d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶  determined, satoru will wire you almost 8 million yen. satoru is then showing up to your work place with the excuse of wanting to take you out for lunch. embarrassed by the glances not so subtly thrown your way and the loud whispers haunting your ears, you agree.

and, honestly, satoru isn’t that bad. he’s got that boyish charm to him, he can be pretty funny and he’s intelligent. maybe you were too harsh with him…is what you initially thought until satoru’s true colors started to show.

he will call you throughout the day asking you what you’re wearing, what you’re eating, what will you eat, who are you with, who were you with, who did you talk to, who are you talking to, who will you talk to and you get the idea.

satoru goes as far as installing tracking devices in your car, home and work place just to stay updated. he even threatened your male co-workers, relatives and friends from talking to you as he strongly and firmly believes that he’s the only one you need.

gojo satoru is like a disease you can’t escape.

Kento: Silent Treatment

nanami kento’s biggest hatred in life aside from the corporate tyranny is adults who are quite immature.

and you know this. but sometimes your emotions get the best of you.

like the other night, you had a pretty nasty fight with kento. you had accused him of flirting with another woman at the end of the year party the company kento is working at hosted. when kento defended himself and explained that the woman was all over him, you yelled that he did nothing to get her to back off.

it was a heated argument which consisted of you yelling your head off and kento constantly defending himself.   

“i’ve had enough of this.” kento mutters as he snatches his pillow and blanket from your bed to go sleep on the couch in the living room. 

come the next morning, you realized your mistake. you barely slept a wink the night before, tossing and turning at your immaturity. guilt lodging itself deep into your soul as you accused kento of infidelity when that man is crazy over you. he works a job he hates just so he can provide for you and for your future family.

with a clearer head, you send him a text.

wanna grab lunch after work?

my treat 🥰  

hopefully, the warm and cozy ambiance of your favorite restaurant will remind you of just how loyal kento is, which will then allow you to apologize and trust him even more.

you go about your day; showering, eating breakfast, cleaning the penthouse. all the while you keep glancing at your phone. you’ve worried your lips so much that they’re bruised and cut, metallic flavor dancing on your tongue.

when kento doesn’t return home, you call him about twenty times until it goes to voicemail.

kento only returns at around nine in the evening. he doesn’t greet you, doesn’t even glance at you. it’s like you’re a ghost. 

you convince yourself that kento is still angry and probably needs some time to cool off but when this behavior continues for almost two weeks, you’re at your wit’s end.

“baby,” you stand in your walk-in closet, reeking of desperation, as kento is busy tying his tie for an important ceremony at his company later that evening, “talk to me.” you plea but he’s silent as the dead.

tears blur your vision as kento continues to ignore you while adding the finishing touches.

“please.” you stand in front of the mirror, obstructing the view of his reflection. “don’t ignore me, kento. please. i was wrong. i shouldn’t have accused you and i shouldn’t have doubted your love for me. i let my insecurities get the better of me. i’m so sorry.”

for the first time in weeks, kento looks at you. actually, looks. his hands tightly grip your waist and lift you off the ground to place you away from the mirror.

dejected by his rejection, tears are crashing down your cheeks like an angry waterfall. 

you try to sand in front of the mirror but kento stops you. just as it feels like the last piece of your heart is about to shrivel up and die, kento leans in and kisses your cheek.

you’re so surprised by the gesture, you don’t notice kento leaving.

it’s only when you hear your phone buzzing on the nightstand that you’re brought to your senses.

i’ll be home late. don’t wait up.

tonight is the first night you’ve had a well rested sleep since your fight.

Sukuna: Purity and Possessiveness 

purity is everything to sukuna. he’s in a relationship with you because of your innocence, how you’re blissfully unaware of the carnal desires of man. having to rely on sukuna and be taught of one’s sexual desire is a huge power trip to sukuna. he guides you every step of the way; teaches you what he loves and shows you what you need. 

it’s such a euphoric world to live in that it’s difficult to leave it. yet it’s something you have to do. sukuna’s licentiousness is overwhelming. his malevolent behavior frightens you and you no longer feel safe in his arms like you used to.

you’ve managed to hide from him for almost three years but sukuna never stopped searching for you. when he finally finds you, it’s with a grin of victory and of mania glowing in his ruby colored eyes.

until his eyes land on your stomach, that his. instantly, he is sneering at you in disgust. sukuna’s insides curl in protest at the repulsive fact that not only are you with another man, mistakenly believing he can ever satisfy you better than he did, you let him plant his seed in you. 

you are–were sukuna’s possession and he doesn’t like to share what rightfully belongs to him. 

why should he take you back when you’ve been spoiled, polluted, by the dirty hands of another man? sukuna doesn’t go for sloppy seconds. and there’s no way in hell he’d raise another man’s child. 

as quickly as sukuna has reappeared in your life, he’s out of it. 

Suguru: Self Sabotage 

the road to recovery is a long and arduous one. but geto suguru is proud of his accomplishments. the challenges he had faced were insanely difficult but meeting you has made things much easier. 

it has taken a while but, eventually, suguru doesn’t feel his fingers twitching for his next fix. he no longer drinks himself to sleep to silence chaotic thoughts. suguru also managed to throw out all of his blades and his arms and inner thighs haven’t been marred in quite some time. 

yet all of suguru’s hard work goes to waste when the two of you had your first major fight. it was cruel. it broke both of your hearts. it forced you to leave suguru’s apartment for a few days to calm down. had you known that your fight, that you leaving suguru, would come with major consequences, you wouldn’t have left. 

you receive the call at around three in the morning. suguru’s in the emergency room after a drug overdose and slitting both his wrists. you’re in no condition to drive as you can’t stop crying, wailing your lover’s name, so your best friend had to drive you to the hospital. 

the doctors inform you that suguru’s chances are slim and you believe their words because you’ve never seen suguru so pale. even when he first met him, he wasn’t as ashy. his face wasn’t sunk in like it is now.

it’s your fault!

you broke him! 

you ruined him! 

you killed him!

you don’t deserve him!

you don’t deserve anyone!

menacing thoughts abuse you throughout the early morning. by the sun comes out and the nurses stop by suguru’s room to check up on him, you’re dead on your seat. 

thankfully, you’ve been rescued from your torturous thoughts by none other than suguru. he stares at you with a haunted expression. his tongue darts out to moisten his chapped.

“y/n,” he croacks your name and you hurry to silence him lest he irritates his throat any further but one glance from suguru has you sitting back down, “i’m so sorry.”

suguru’s voice is so low that you have to lean in to hear him.

“please don’t leave me. i can’t live without you.”

a sickening wave of terror welling up from y/n’s belly at each word suguru uttered. how could she have been so stupid? why did she fight suguru when she knows just how sensitive he is!

shame washes over y/n like tidal waves.

“i’m sorry, baby.” y/n whispers as reaches for suguru’s hand. she places a gentle kiss on the gauzed wrapped around his injured wrist. “it’s all my fault. i won’t do it again.”

y/n searches suguru’s amethyst eyes for forgiveness.

“promise?” suguru asks, sounding so scared.

“i promise.”

Yuuta: Stalking

dating yuuta is like dating an overgrown puppy. 

he’s so loyal to you that one might actually call it blind devotion. yuuta will jump through burning hopes to please and satisfy you. in his eyes, you’re the most beautiful woman blessed on earth.

dating yuuta can be exhausting as well. since he’s five years younger than you, he’s quite energetic. which is exactly what you’ve been searching for after being married to your lazy husband who barely lifts a finger to scratch his ass.

and it was fun at first but now you’re exhausted to the bone and can barely keep up. that’s why you decide that it’s time to hit the gym. you need to build up your stamina if you want to keep up with your good little boy. 

“good luck with gym today!” yuuta is standing at the apartment genkan to send you off. the tail only you can see is wagging in excitement, ready to hear a compliment for doing a good of packing your gym back.

“thank you, my little puppy.” yuuta beams at the baby voice you use and is as light as a feather when you peck his lips not twice but four times.

“be a good little boy while mommy’s gone.” yuuta fervently nodding his head sends you into a fit of giggles at just how adorable he is. 

yuuta waits about ten minutes before he’s sprinting into your bedroom to quickly change his clothes, yank the apartment door open where he takes the stairs by twos and hops on his bicycle, cycling as fast as his legs can allow him. 

he’s stopping right across the street from your gym just as you drive into the basement parking lot. state of the binoculars at the ready, yuuta enters the abandoned building next to your gym and makes his way to the rooftop.

yuuta isn’t stalking you. really, he isn’t. he just…follows you around to make sure nothing happens to you. 

it’s just like he did before he started dating you. yuuta would follow you around town, patiently waiting for him to plant himself in your world like a may flower. he knows all of your favorite places; restaurants, cafes, stores, etc. yuuta knows where you like to go when you want to be alone and he even knows where your parents live despite the fact you’ve been dating for only two months and you have yet to bring up your parents. 

Yuuta’s grip tightens on the binoculars. he despises the fact that there aren’t any male instructors at your gym. he has to watch from the side as your male teacher comes closer and corrects your posture. yuuta’s eyes zero in to make sure that the instructor’s touches don’t linger. 

after about an hour, yuuta receives a text that you’re going to grab coffee with the girls from your pilates class, girls yuuta has pulled up all and any information on them to ensure they aren’t harmful, that they won’t corrupt you.

okay mommy ♥️

yuuta will a good boy and wait for you 😇

yuuta’s on his bicycle, subtly following your car to your favorite cafe by the riverside. 

[woso-story]

The Weight Of Love And Loss - Part Four

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Part One Two Three

The morning of the meeting, your nerves felt like they were eating you alive. Every step toward the café felt heavier than the last, as though the gravity of your decision was pulling you back. For days, you’d debated whether to come at all. You’d imagined every possible outcome: Alexia apologizing, Alexia blaming you, Alexia trying to win you back. But no matter how much you rehearsed your responses, nothing prepared you for the reality of seeing her again.

The café was quiet as you approached. It was early, not many people around. Through the glass, you could see Alexia already sitting at your old table, her back slightly hunched, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug.

For a moment, you stopped in your tracks. Memories of the two of you flooded your mind—happy days spent in this exact spot, laughing, dreaming, planning your future together. The air had always been warm with love back then. But now? Now it felt like that love was gone, leaving only bitterness and heartbreak behind.

You inhaled deeply and pushed open the door.

---

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Alexia’s attention. She looked up, her eyes meeting yours instantly, and she stood, as if she wasn’t sure whether to stay seated or greet you. She hesitated before giving a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Her voice was small, unsure, and it tugged at your heart in a way you weren’t ready for.

“Hi,” you replied curtly. No warmth, no familiarity. Just the distance you’d carefully built since the day you walked out of her apartment.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?” she offered, almost nervously.

You shook your head. “No. Let’s just get this over with.”

The words were sharp, but you needed them to be. You needed to protect yourself, to keep the walls you’d built from crumbling the moment she looked at you with those pleading eyes.

Alexia flinched slightly but nodded, sitting back down. You followed, keeping your distance, your arms crossed defensively as you waited for her to start.

---

The silence between you stretched on painfully. Alexia fidgeted with her mug, her eyes darting between you and the table. You resisted the urge to fill the void, to make it easier for her. This was her meeting, her chance to explain. You weren’t going to make it easier for her.

Finally, you sighed, irritation creeping into your voice. “If you’re not going to say anything, I’m leaving. I don’t have time to sit here in silence.”

“No—wait,” she blurted out, her voice breaking slightly. She looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But I need to try.”

---

Alexia took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly together as if trying to hold herself together. “I’m sorry for everything. For the way I treated you. For shutting you out. For not listening. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to focus on getting better, but...I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you in the process.”

You stayed silent, your expression unreadable.

“When I got injured, I felt like everything I’d worked for my whole life was slipping away,” she continued, her voice cracking. “Football isn’t just a job for me—it’s who I am. And losing that...I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was angry, scared, lost. And instead of letting you help me, I pushed you away. I thought I could handle it on my own. But I couldn’t.”

Her voice broke completely now, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear, I didn’t. But I did, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I made you feel like you didn’t matter, because you do. You always did. You’re...you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I ruined it.”

---

Her words hit you harder than you expected. For months, you’d begged her to open up, to tell you how she felt. And now, here she was, pouring her heart out—but it was too late.

“You’re right,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “You did ruin it.”

Alexia flinched as if you’d slapped her, but you didn’t stop.

“I tried, Alexia. I tried so hard to be there for you, to support you, to love you. But you didn’t let me. Every time I tried to talk to you, you shut me out. Every time I needed you, you weren’t there. And do you know how that felt? To feel like I was invisible? Like I didn’t matter?”

Tears were streaming down your face now, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “You broke my heart, Alexia. Piece by piece, over months. And I can’t just forget that.”

---

Alexia sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to compose herself. “I know,” she whispered. “I know I messed up. But...please. Please give me another chance. I’ll do better. I’ll change. Just...don’t give up on us.”

You shook your head, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “It’s not that simple, Alexia. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can trust you not to do it again.”

Her face crumpled, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob.

“I think we need time,” you continued, your voice shaking. “Time to heal. Separately.”

Alexia’s tears fell freely now, her shoulders shaking as she cried. “I can’t do this without you,” she whispered. “You’re my rock. You always have been.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Your rock? I felt more like your punching bag these last few months. I took every hit, Alexia. Every argument, every hurtful comment, every time you brushed me off. I took it all. And I broke because of it.”

She sobbed quietly, her hands trembling as she reached for yours. “I’ll fix it. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just...don’t leave me.”

You took her hands in yours, your heart aching at the sight of her so broken. “You need help, Alexia. Real help. Talk to a sports psychologist. Work through everything you’re feeling. Because I can’t be the one to fix this for you. I tried, and it nearly destroyed me.”

Her tears fell harder, but she nodded slowly, her grip on your hands tightening.

After a moment Alexia’s sobs quieted, and she wiped at her face with shaking hands. “So...that’s it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“For now,” you said softly. “You need time to heal. And so do I. We can’t do that together.”

She nodded slowly, her tears falling silently now. “Is there still a chance for us? Someday?”

You hesitated, your heart breaking all over again. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But if it’s meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other. For now, we have to let go.”

Her face crumpled, but she managed a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” she whispered.

You stood, your heart heavy as you looked at her one last time. “Take care of yourself, Alexia,” you said gently.

“You too,” she replied, her voice trembling.

And with that, you walked away, leaving behind the woman you once thought you’d spend forever with.

As you stepped out into the crisp morning air, a single thought ran through your mind: Maybe someday.

But for now, you needed to heal. Alone.

[falling-leafs-sunrays-wingspan]

(you inspired me, i am not disagreeing, it just looks different in my head) Kevin is so obsessed with Exy that he would see this as the best decision, Kevins favorite Exy team is the Trojans after all and not the Ravens and therefore i believe that making the best decisions for the game like the trojans do is way more important to Kevin than being number one as Riko always was, being the best does not mean being number one but being your best self, improving your own capabilities and for Kevin that doesn't mean being captain but being the best striker, i think you see it best with his discussion with neil about perfect goals, for neil it is about outsmarting the other players and for that he needs teamwork, he is extremly observent and understanding of other people which makes him the perfect captain neil can put his own beliefs and needs back to guide his team to win, if need be he can be a dealer, passing to Kevin or anyone with better chances, he can be a backliner obv, he is very appreciative of the work the goalies are putting into the game, being the last defense and protecting their backs, neil listens to the goalkeepers, asks for their opinion and brings different styles and ideas together to make them work, while for Kevin the backliner and goalies are an afterthought, he is playing against himself, perfecting his aim, making impossible shots which makes him a force to recon with but not a good captain because his view of the game is very narrow, i think he is learning to be a better team player and he is an incredible striker but he needs a team to get the ball to him to use his abilities and his narrow and unflexibel nature makes it very hard for him to captain others, i think neil and kevin are both extremly talented just in other ways and neils ability to adapt and include is what makes kevin so strong which is why they win the championship and not to partologize but this feels like an autism character with incredible strengths not being able to do it in other ways and to adapt which is very frustrating because it is the best and only way for kevin to be and he could be so good if the others would just adapt to him and having someone like neil there to help him fit in with the rest of the team is such a blessing for kevin that he would follow neil everywhere and their combination is so satisfying because they can push each other in the right direction and improve together which is so beautiful

i can’t stop thinking about wymack making neil captain over kevin. that must’ve left kevin with the most complicated mess of emotions. because yes, objectively, he knows that neil will make the better captain. they have the same amount of passion and drive, but neil’s better with bringing people together and making them really feel like a team. kevin gets to have a break, in some ways. he’s finally getting cut some slack. BUT ALSO. there’s no way it doesn’t feel like wymack’s choosing neil over him. there’s a new number one. even among the ragtag foxes, kevin isn’t the best. even to his own father, kevin isn’t the first pick

[daisymbin]

tell me you love me! - kim mingyu

genre: friends to lovers!

wc: 1.7k

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

“wanna bet?” mingyu’s voice is playful, his smirk cocky as he watches you with that glint in his eye that always makes your heart skip a beat. you try to keep your cool, but your pulse is already quickening.

you swallow nervously, not sure where this is going. “depends. what are the stakes?”

“whatever the winner wants,” he replies, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms casually. his tone is confident, as though he knows exactly what he’s doing.

you raise an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “anything? that’s a bit risky.”

“trust me,” mingyu says, his smile turning more confident, like he's enjoying this moment of control. "it’ll be worth it."

you hesitate, but only for a moment, before nodding. "fine. i'll bite."

“good choice,” he says, leaning forward with that usual cocky grin on his face. “so, here’s the bet.”

you wait, unsure of what’s coming, but bracing yourself for whatever he throws at you.

“arm wrestling,” he says, suddenly, and your eyes widen.

“that’s not fair!” you exclaim, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. you were expecting something—well, anything—else. something that didn’t involve you getting completely embarrassed in front of him.

mingyu chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. "you already agreed, sweetheart. don’t back out now."

“but you’re way stronger than i am!” you argue, arms flailing slightly as you try to explain why this isn’t fair. “there’s no way i’m going to win!”

“a bet’s a bet,” mingyu shrugs nonchalantly, not even fazed by your protests. "you agreed to it. c'mon now."

you feel a mixture of frustration and a nervous, fluttery excitement as you sit down across from him, your eyes narrowing at his smug expression. he stretches out his arm, flexing his muscles just to tease you further.

you try to steel yourself, but your hands are already shaking. this wasn’t what you had in mind when you agreed to the bet, and now the thought of losing—especially in front of him—feels like the worst possible outcome.

“you ready?” mingyu asks, his voice dropping slightly as his fingers curl around your hand.

you bite your lip, casting a quick glance toward the door, as if you could escape from this situation, but then you look back at mingyu. his grin only widens, and you can see the playfulness in his eyes.

you press your lips together, determined to at least try. you might not win, but you weren’t going to back down without a fight.

when you both lock hands, the challenge is set, and mingyu’s grip feels like a vice around yours, making you feel smaller and weaker in comparison. you brace yourself, trying to summon the last of your courage.

the countdown begins. “three, two—”

before you can even blink, mingyu’s hand crashes down to the table with ease.

you blink at him, stunned for a moment. “...you’re kidding me.”

he laughs, the sound deep and triumphant, and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. “that was way too easy.”

“you didnt even give me a chance,” you complain, but mingyu doesn’t let you wallow for long. his cocky grin only grows wider as he leans in slightly, his gaze now fixed on you.

“so,” he begins, drawing out the word with exaggerated suspense, “since i won, i think i’ll collect my prize.”

you look up at him, panic flashing in your eyes as the realization hits you. “what do you want?” you ask with a sigh.

you barely have time to process it when he leans forward, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“i want a kiss,” he says simply, and the air feels like it’s been sucked out of your lungs.

you freeze. for a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. you open your mouth to protest, but the words don’t come. all you can do is blink at him, utterly caught off guard by his casual request.

“i-i can’t,” you stammer, taking a step back instinctively, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

“why not?” mingyu teases, his voice a little softer now, but still carrying that cocky edge. “it’s just a kiss.”

“but that’s... i just can’t,” you say, your voice shaking now, feeling vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before. you’re in love with him—how could you not be? but the thought of kissing him, of letting him have that piece of you, knowing it could never be enough, feels like you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. and you’re not ready for that.

mingyu’s expression falters slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features, but then he just shrugs, clearly thinking it’s just nerves.

“why not? it's just a kiss. you've kissed plenty of people before.” he teases, taking a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming in the best and worst way.

you swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing. “yeah but... why do you want one? ” you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you meet his eyes.

“isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his smirk returning as if it’s second nature to him. but there’s something different in the way he looks at you, something softer beneath the teasing.

“well... no?” you reply, unsure of yourself. “that’s why i’m asking. why did you—” you trail off, suddenly too scared to say the next words. to admit what you’re too afraid to admit even to yourself.

mingyu’s expression hardens for a brief second, before his gaze softens again, his cocky smile vanishing as his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s seeing right through you. “aren’t you in love with me?” he asks, his voice low and piercing, leaving no room for denial.

your heart stops. you feel like you’ve been slapped, the world spinning around you. you try to speak, to deny it, but the words stick in your throat. instead, you just stare at him, completely blindsided.

“what? that’s—” you begin to protest, but mingyu cuts you off, his voice now serious and commanding.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “back out now if you don’t want it.”

you stand frozen, all the words swirling in your mind but not leaving your lips. your heart races, thundering in your chest as your thoughts spiral. you don’t want to back out. but you don’t want to risk having your heart broken, either.

you don’t say a word, but your silence says everything.

mingyu shifts closer, closing the gap between you, and you can feel your breath hitch as he leans down, his lips brushing gently against yours. the kiss is slow, almost tender, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away, but you don’t. you can’t. you kiss him back, feeling the warmth of his lips, the softness that you never expected, the connection you’ve always wanted but never dared to dream of.

when he pulls away, you’re breathless, your heart pounding wildly. you step back, your face flushed, and look away from him, suddenly feeling too exposed.

mingyu watches you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “do you regret it?” he asks, his voice soft and vulnerable but masking it by carrying that teasing edge.

“no, i just...” you start, but the words don’t come out the way you want them to. you feel the weight of everything you’ve kept hidden pressing down on you.

“hey, look at me,” mingyu says, his voice gentle now, almost like he’s comforting you.

reluctantly, you meet his gaze, your heart still racing in your chest. but now, it’s different. it’s not the same cocky mingyu you’re used to. there’s something deeper in his eyes.

“tell me you love me,” he says quietly, almost expectantly, like he already knows the answer.

your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as you try to make sense of what he just asked. “w-what?”

“you do,” mingyu insists, his gaze intense, his voice firm but soft. “i know you do. you look at me the same way i look at you. so just tell me you love me.”

you blink, your mind racing. “mingyu, what are you—”

“i said what i said,” he interrupts, his voice steady and confident. “you heard me loud and clear.”

you stand there, speechless, feeling as though the floor has been ripped from beneath you. so many thoughts are running through your head, but nothing makes sense. what does he mean 'you look at me the same way i look at you.'

“i... i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper, backing away, your heart in your throat as panic and fear hugs you like a thick weighted blanket you can't shake off.

before you can take another step, mingyu’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist firmly. “don’t walk away from me,” he says quietly, his grip gentle but unyielding.

you freeze, your chest tightening. you want to pull away, but his touch is grounding you, making it impossible to move.

he pulls you back toward him. “i love you,” he says, his voice clear and sure. “everyone knows i do. you’re the only oblivious one.”

your heart stutters, your world spinning. “what?” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips.

“and i know you do too,” mingyu continues, his gaze unwavering, his tone confident. “are you still going to tell me you don’t know what i’m talking about?”

you stand there, caught in his gaze, unable to move or speak, but in that moment, everything changes. the fear fades away, and something new takes its place.

mingyu encourages again, “tell me you love me,”

you swallow, your voice trembling as you finally admit out loud, “i love you.”

mingyu’s grin widens, and for the first time, it’s not cocky—it’s soft, full of relief and happiness. he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, and whispers, “you don't know just how bad i've wanted to hear you say these 3 words.”

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V

Word Count so far: 48.5k

Chapters: 6 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers, love triangle

ACT VI.

The crisp winter air nipped at my cheeks as I stepped out of my apartment building, my scarf wrapped snugly around my neck. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of day where I would’ve normally curled up with a book or caught up on my favorite shows. But today was different. Today, Taehyung had insisted we spend the day together—no work, no drama, just us.

As I adjusted my coat, making sure not to freeze despite the sun outside, I saw him across the street, standing next to a streetlamp. He looked effortlessly handsome in a cream-colored sweater under a beige trench coat, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

In his hands was a small bouquet of flowers—white daisies and pink tulips, delicate and cheerful.

“For you,” he said as I approached, holding the bouquet out with a boyish grin.

“Flowers?” I teased, taking them gently. “Are you trying to win me over?”

He smirked. “Maybe. Is it working?”

I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s a good start.”

We began walking down the quiet street, the crunch of our shoes against the pavement mingling with the sounds of the city waking up. A few blocks away, we found our favorite little café, the one with the cozy atmosphere and the best hot chocolate in town.

Taehyung held the door open for me, and we were greeted by the familiar scent of cocoa and cinnamon. The café was warm, a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside.

“Two hot chocolates?” the barista asked with a knowing smile as we approached the counter.

“You know us too well,” Taehyung replied with a soft chuckle. We have been visiting this coffee shop back when we were only college students. This place held memories of us. And I cherished it a lot.

Once our drinks were ready—complete with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa powder—we found a corner booth by the window. The steam from the mugs curled into the air as we sat across from each other, the sunlight streaming in and casting a golden glow over his face.

“So,” he began, his tone playful. “What’s on your mind, Miss Y/N? Besides how devastatingly handsome I am.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my hot chocolate to hide my smile. “I was actually thinking about how certain someone managed to spill wine on my dress last night.”

His expression softened, the teasing replaced by genuine concern. “You handled that so well. I would’ve lost my cool.”

“Well,” I said, swirling my spoon in the whipped cream, “I guess I’ve had enough practice dealing with people like Tina.”

He reached across the table, resting his hand over mine. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are more badass than you think.”

His words warmed me more than the hot chocolate ever could. "I honestly don't know what I will do without you, Tae. I am grateful to have you in my life." I spoke out, it was the truth, I never expressed my gratefulness but now I did. I wanted him to know that I cherished him. Tae's cheeks flushed.  "I will always be here, Y/N. No matter what." My heart skept a beat. I grinned at him and brough the glass toward my lips as if to hide my blush. "So, what's the deal with your Boss tho?There seems to be tension between him and you. I didn't like how he stole you away from me last night..." I froze. My smile faltered and I cleared my throat. "He is just . . . a bit controlling, that's all." "Controlling? He is possessive of you, Y/N. His eyes are feral when he is around you." My frown deepened and I shook my head. "That's not true. I mean, he did made fun of me and my way of work but that's all. He thrives for perfection." Tae's eyes darkened, he stared at me for a minute longer, before a deep sigh escaped his lips. "I just want you to be self-aware of your surroundings, Y/N." Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too caught up between him and Yoongi to even notice what was happening. I couldn't keep this up. My feelings didn't matter, all that matters is my job and how I do it. An awkward silence stretched between me and Taehyung. We were both lost in thoughts now. Gosh, he shouldn't have mentioned Jungkook. Because with Jungkook there is also Yoongi.

After we finished our drinks, we spent the rest of the day wandering around the city. Taehyung led me to a park we used to visit back when we were teenagers. The trees were bare, their branches dusted with the season’s first frost, but the air was alive with laughter from families and couples enjoying the day.

We stopped by the frozen pond, watching as kids skated in clumsy circles. Taehyung nudged me gently with his shoulder.

“Remember the time I tried to teach you how to skate?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Don’t remind me. I think I fell a dozen times..”

“And I caught you every single time,” he added, a proud smile on his face. He was the cutest with how he smiled, it was like stars appeared in his eyes everytime he did.

We walked on, stopping occasionally to take in the sights or to snap a picture. At one point, we found a street musician playing a soulful tune on his guitar. Taehyung pulled me to the side, bowing dramatically.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice dripping with charm.

“Here? In the middle of the park?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“Why not?” He took my hand before I could protest, spinning me gently in a slow circle.

People passed by, some smiling at the sight of us, but I didn’t care. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of us.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, we found ourselves sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Taehyung wrapped his scarf around my neck, ignoring my protests that I was fine.

“I don’t want you catching a cold,” he said, tucking the ends neatly under my coat.

“Thanks, Dad,” I teased, but the truth was, I didn’t mind. He was caring by nature, and maybe to be cared for felt good...

As the day came to an end, I realized how much I needed this. No work, no stress, no complicated feelings about Yoongi or Jungkook—just a simple, perfect day with Taehyung..

“Still cold?” he asked, noticing my movements.

“Not really,” I admitted. “This scarf is ridiculously warm.”

He smiled, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “It’s because it’s mine. Everything I own is top-tier.”

I nudged him with my elbow, grinning. “Oh, please. That’s the most Taehyung thing you’ve said all day.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy, and I couldn’t help but smile wider. There was something about him—his energy, his warmth—that made everything feel okay, even after the chaos of last night.

As we turned the corner onto my street, he slowed his pace.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “I really enjoyed today. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so relaxed.”

“I guess I needed it,” I replied, glancing up at him. “Just a perfect day with an old friend.”

“Old friend?” he repeated, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m as youthful as ever. If anything, I’ve only gotten better with age.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

I didn’t respond, but the way my cheeks warmed betrayed me.

When we reached my building, we stopped just outside the entrance. The soft hum of the city buzzed in the background as we turned to face each other.

“Well,” I said, clutching the bouquet of flowers he’d given me earlier, “thanks for today. Really.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice gentle. “I mean it. If you ever need to escape, just call me. I’ll be there.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The streetlight above cast a faint glow on his face, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re a good friend, Tae,” I said softly, though the words felt heavier than they should have.

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, his expression warm and playful again. “Only a good friend? I’ll have to work on upgrading that title.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and filled with something unspoken.

I turned to unlock the door to my building, but before I could step inside, I heard him call my name.

I turned back, and there he was, standing a few feet away, his hands still in his pockets. “Don’t forget to put those flowers in water,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face.

“I won’t,” I promised, holding up the bouquet.

And with that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the quiet night. I stood there for a moment, watching him go, the warmth from the day still lingering in my chest.

As I finally stepped inside, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Today had been perfect—simple, sweet, and exactly what I needed. 

-

The scene outside the company building was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Reporters shouted over each other, their cameras flashing relentlessly as they aimed toward the entrance. Police cars were parked haphazardly along the curb, their lights casting ominous blue and red hues against the surrounding buildings.

My heart sank as I tried to push through the crowd, clutching my bag tightly. The questions flying through the air were disjointed but enough to spark unease in my chest.

“Is it true Jeon Enterprises is under investigation?” “CEO Jeon Jungkook has yet to make a statement—” "Is there a suspect already?"

I forced myself to block out the noise, stepping up to the security guard at the entrance. My heart was thumping fast and loud in my chest. This entire atmosphere looked like a crime series. I had no idea what happened but whatever it was, it was serious.

“I work here,” I said, fumbling with my badge. My hands shook slightly, and I hated how obvious it was.

The tall bulky guard dressed in a black suit squinted at my badge, then gave me a short nod. “Go ahead.”

His words did nothing to calm me as I entered the building, the usual hum of productivity replaced by frantic whispers and hurried footsteps. Police officers roamed the lobby, speaking into radios, while employees stood in clusters, their faces pale with shock.

What on earth happened?

I hurried toward the elevator, my pulse quickening with every step. The ride up to our floor felt like an eternity, and when the doors opened, the sight made my stomach churn.

Officers were everywhere, combing through desks and confiscating files. The normally pristine office space was in disarray, papers scattered and voices raised in hushed tones.

“Y/N!”

I turned to see Rya approaching me, her expression frantic. I could see the paleness on her face, she was definitely shocked and panicked.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rya glanced around before pulling me aside, her grip on my arm tight. “Tina... she’s dead.”

I froze, her words not registering at first. “What?”

“They found her body last night at her apartment,” Rya said, her voice shaking. “And the last person who was seen with her was Jungkook. Police came and took him with them twenty minutes ago. They treated him like a suspect!”

The air seemed to leave my lungs. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what she was saying. Tina? Dead? And Jungkook?

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jungkook wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Rya interrupted, her voice urgent. “But the police don’t care about what we think. And the media is having a field day with it. They are also got a search order to see if they can find any clue on what happened, Jungkook's office is a raided mess. Cops took everything.”

I glanced around the chaotic office, my chest tightening. Jungkook wasn’t just my boss; he was someone I had come to respect despite our rocky start. The idea that he could be involved in something like this was incomprehensible.

Rya’s hand hovered over the remote as the reporter’s voice filled the tense air of the office.

“Breaking news this morning,” the reporter began, her tone grave. “Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a deceased individual late last night at their apartment. The victim has been identified as an employee of Jeon Enterprises and was last seen attending the high-profile masquerade ball hosted by MNT Media just days ago.”

Rya and I exchanged a glance, our breaths caught in the shared silence. The weight of the words was crushing, and my mind raced to process what I already knew.

“Last seen at the ball...” Rya whispered, her voice barely audible, but I caught the way her hands trembled as she gripped the remote.

I swallowed hard, fighting the knot forming in my throat. 

The broadcast continued, showing images of the ball—the glittering chandeliers, the elegant gowns, the masked faces. And then it switched to a live shot of an apartment building cordoned off with police tape, officers moving in and out under the glow of harsh floodlights.

“Sources close to the investigation report signs of foul play, though no official suspects have been named. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Enterprises, has been confirmed to have been the last one who saw the victim alive, and authorities have expressed interest in speaking with him.”

“Damn it,” Rya muttered, her voice cracking slightly. 

I didn’t answer, the words sticking to the back of my throat. We both knew it was. There was no need to say it out loud.

Instead, I fixed my gaze on the screen, where the reporter was now recounting snippets. “The victim was known to be a driven and outspoken employee, with significant professional ties and ongoing disputes that may have played a role in the events leading up to their death.”

"Y/N... this is bad. Really bad. The board is already panicking, and if this gets any worse, it could take down the entire company.”

I felt like the floor was tilting beneath me, the weight of the situation pressing down on my shoulders.

“I need to find Yoongi,” I muttered, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Yoongi?” Rya frowned.

“He’ll know what to do,” I said, more to convince myself than her. “He always does.”

Without waiting for her response, I turned and started toward his office, my mind a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and determination. Whatever was happening, I needed answers—and fast.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull—just do it.”

He ended the call abruptly, exhaling sharply before he turned, noticing me standing hesitantly behind him. His expression softened slightly, though the strain in his features remained.

“It’s a mess,” he admitted, his tone heavy. “As you already know, Tina was found in her apartment late last night. She has been shot in the head.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. Shot in the head? What kind of an animal would do that to her?! Surely, Tina was not one of the best people, she was selfish and her ego reached the skies, but not even once did I wish her death. “And Jungkook? Why are they linking him to this?”

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to the side, conflicted. “He was seen leaving her building around the time they estimate it happened. There’s footage from a security camera, but it doesn’t show much. Just him walking out.”

“That doesn’t mean he did anything,” I said quickly, feeling a surge of defensiveness I didn’t expect.

“I know,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “But right now, appearances are everything. The media doesn’t care about proof—they just want a story. And Tina being...” He hesitated, his expression darkening. “Well, let’s just say she didn’t make herself any friends around here. People are talking, and not in Jungkook’s favor.”

I was trying to process everything. Tina’s death. Jungkook being questioned. The chaos in the office. It felt like the ground beneath me was shifting, and I couldn’t find my footing.

“Do you think he did it?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of his answer.

Yoongi met my gaze, his dark eyes steady. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ve known Jungkook long enough to say that he’s not capable of something like this. But whether he did or didn’t isn’t the issue right now. It’s about what people believe.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest.

“What do we do?” I asked, desperate for some kind of direction.

Yoongi sighed, “For now, we wait. The lawyers are working on getting him released, but until then, we need to keep things from spiraling. The company is already under enough scrutiny.”

I nodded, though it felt like a hollow gesture. Waiting wasn’t exactly my strong suit, especially not when someone I cared about was at the center of it all.

“What about us?” I asked hesitantly. “What can I do to help?”

Yoongi’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight he carried seemed to lift just slightly.

“Just stay out of the crossfire, Y/N,” he said gently. “You’ve already been through enough. Let me handle this.”

I bristled slightly at his words, not because I didn’t appreciate his concern, but because I hated feeling powerless.

“Yoongi,” I said firmly, standing. “I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while everything falls apart. If there’s anything I can do—anything—just tell me.”

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded.

After leaving Yoongi’s office, I couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on me. Tina’s death had sent shockwaves through the entire company, and though I’d never liked her—she’d been awful to me more times than I could count—this wasn’t what she deserved.

The thought of her lifeless and alone in her apartment was too much. No matter how cruel she’d been, she was still a person, someone with her own struggles and stories I’d never known. She was still someone's daughter, sister, cousin. . .

I needed to talk to someone.

I found Hoseok and Rya in the break room, sitting at one of the tables near the window. Both of them looked tense, their earlier easy smiles replaced with furrowed brows and quiet whispers.

“Hey,” I said softly as I approached. They looked up, and Rya immediately slid over to make room for me.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his tone heavy. “How are you holding up?”

I sat down, clasping my hands together to stop them from trembling. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “This whole thing with Tina... it doesn’t feel real. I know we didn’t get along, but...” I trailed off, unsure how to put the jumble of emotions into words.

“She was a nightmare,” Rya said bluntly, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “But I never thought... this. I mean, she could be petty and cruel, but murder?”

Hoseok frowned, leaning forward. “Nobody deserves that,” he said quietly. “Not even Tina. She could be terrible, sure, but she was still a person.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the three of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I keep thinking about the last time I saw her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “At the ball. She seemed so... smug. Like she was on top of the world. And now, she’s gone.”

Rya crossed her arms, looking conflicted. “Do you think someone here could’ve done it? I mean, everyone knew she had enemies, but this is... extreme.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I don’t want to believe it, but with the police here, searching the office...” He trailed off, his expression darkening. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“And Jungkook?” Rya asked, looking at me. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“No,” I said firmly, surprising even myself with the conviction in my voice. “I don’t. He might be cold and distant sometimes, but he’s not a killer. He’s... he’s better than that.”

Hoseok and Rya exchanged a glance, but neither argued.

“What happens now?” Rya asked after a moment. “If Jungkook is being investigated, what does that mean for the company? For us?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle over me again. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think we need to stick together. Now more than ever.”

They both nodded, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of solidarity between us.

As the three of us sat there, piecing together what little we knew, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something much bigger—and much darker—than any of us could imagine.

-

The morning was gray and oppressive, the atmosphere at Jeon Enterprises thick with unease. I was called to help clear out Tina’s desk under police supervision, a task I didn’t relish but couldn’t refuse. The sight of her empty chair sent a chill through me. Tina had been vile, no doubt about it, but to think she was gone—and in such a horrific way—made my stomach turn.

The desk was surprisingly tidy for someone as chaotic as Tina. Neat stacks of papers, pristine stationery, and a drawer full of color-coded folders. Yet as I sifted through the surface level, something felt off. It was too perfect, almost staged.

A detective stood nearby, arms crossed as he observed. “Anything that seems unusual, set it aside,” he said flatly.

Unusual? Where did I even start? Tina herself was a cocktail of ambition and cruelty, a persona that could fill a thousand file folders with secrets. As I reached into the bottom drawer, my fingers brushed against something that didn’t feel like an office supply. It was wedged under a stack of legal pads—a worn, leather-bound journal.

I glanced at the detective, who was momentarily distracted by another officer. With a quick, furtive motion, I slipped the journal into my bag. I told myself I’d hand it over eventually, but something about it called to me. A gut feeling. Tina had gone out of her way to hide this. Why?

Once I got home that evening, I pulled the journal out and set it on my kitchen table. The leather was cracked and faded, the corners worn down like it had been carried around for years. When I opened it, the faint scent of Tina’s signature perfume wafted up, mingled with something darker—ink and secrecy.

The first few pages were mundane. Meeting notes, to-do lists, sketches of presentation layouts. But as I flipped further, the tone shifted. The handwriting became erratic, the words slanting across the page with a kind of manic energy.

November 3: Another meeting with K. Promises, promises. Does he think I’m stupid? I’ll take what’s mine before he screws me over.

November 12: Y/N is such a naive little thing. Too easy to push around. If only she knew how far out of her depth she is. Pathetic.

I recoiled at the venom in her words. My name was scrawled there like a curse, surrounded by complaints about nearly everyone in the office. Tina hadn’t just disliked people—she’d despised them.

And then there were the cryptic entries:

December 1: The deal is in place. If K tries to back out, he’ll regret it.

December 15: I’m not playing games anymore. If they think they can silence me, they’re dead wrong.

The entries stopped abruptly a week before her death. My fingers trembled as I turned the pages, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was “K”? What deal? And what had Tina meant by “silence”?

Before I could dive further, my phone buzzed. The name on the screen made my blood run cold: Richard Delgrassi. My father’s old associate. 

“Mr. Delgrassi? How did you find my number?” I said cautiously, picking up the call.

“I called your father, wanted to check up on you.” his voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like a blade sheathed in silk. “Are you okay? I heard about your co-worker Tina.”

I swallowed thickly, deep sigh escaped my lips. "I am fine, sir. It just . . . shocked us all."

“I am really sorry to hear that, if you need anything, please let me know. If you want to leave the company and start somewhere fresh, I will help you out." Leave. Why would I want to leave? I hummed. "Of course, sir, I will let you know." I heard him shuffle on the other side of the line. "What about Jungkook, I heard he is at the police station for questioning." I started pacing back and forth, "Well, right now we don't have much information on what happens next, but hopefully police would release him soon." "I hope so too." he spoke but something in his voice didn't feel sincere. "Alright, I just wanted to check up on you. Know you have someone you can count on." "Thank you, sir..."

The line went dead before I could ask anything else. I stared at the phone, my heart hammering in my chest. 

I glanced back at the journal, its leather cover now looking more sinister than mysterious. Whatever Tina had been involved in, it wasn’t just office politics. It was something far darker, and I was smack in the middle of it.

-

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood in front of the police station, staring at the cold, gray walls. It didn’t feel real—none of it did. My mind kept replaying the moment I heard the news: Tina, my manager, was dead. Murdered. And Jungkook, the CEO of the company I’d worked for, was the prime suspect unofficially.

The shock of it had hit me hard. Tina’s death had left a void in our office, and the fact that Jungkook, the man I already thought I knew so well, was now behind bars... it shattered everything.

I took a deep breath before walking through the sterile halls of the station. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me, making the air feel thick and oppressive. I passed the front desk, where the officers barely acknowledged me and suddenly bumped into someone.

The impact jolted me slightly, and I looked up to find Yoongi standing there, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable as ever. He sighed heavily, as if seeing me here was the last thing he needed.

“What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” he asked, his tone low but laced with irritation.

I straightened my posture, refusing to let him intimidate me. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to see Jungkook.”

Yoongi crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your fight, and it’s definitely not safe.”

“Not safe?” I scoffed, keeping my voice low so the officers milling about wouldn’t overhear. “I work at the same company, Yoongi. Tina was my manager too, in case you forgot. This affects all of us, not just you.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “That’s exactly why you need to stay out of it. Let the police handle this. Do you even realize how messy this is going to get?”

I glared at him, my frustration boiling over. “Messy or not, I have a right to know what’s going on. Jungkook isn’t just some random CEO. He’s—”

“He’s what?” Yoongi cut in, his tone sharp. “Your boss? Your friend? Someone you think you can trust? Newsflash, Y/N: trust doesn’t mean a damn thing right now.”

I felt the sting of his words but refused to back down. “You’re unbelievable,” I shot back. “You act like you’re the only one allowed to care about what’s happening.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his messy long hair, his jaw tight. I could notice he has been sleep deprived too, the dark circles under his eyes screamed tiredness. “I care because I know what’s at stake. And you showing up here, trying to play detective, is only going to make things worse.”

I stepped closer, narrowing the gap between us. “Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you think it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you staying out of it?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. I saw his eyes darken and he took a sharp breath through his nose, hands now resting on his hips. "Fucking hell, why are you so stubborn?" "Maybe I am good at annoying the hell out of you." His eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. There was a silence stretching between us before he finally turned around and headed down the hallway.

“Fine,” he muttered over his shoulder. “If you’re so hell-bent on getting involved, follow me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We made our way to the interrogation room, where Jungkook was being held. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat as we approached the small, glass-walled room. Jungkook sat inside, his hands folded on the metal table in front of him. He looked tired, his usually sharp features drawn and pale.

The officer standing outside the door nodded at Yoongi, allowing us in. I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, the air thick with tension.

Jungkook glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to Yoongi.

“Didn’t expect visitors,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Yoongi pulled out a chair and sat down, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “We’re not here to chat. What’s going on, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering between the two of us. “You tell me. One minute, I’m at the office; the next, I’m hauled in here like a criminal.”

“Did you know Tina was dead?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to stay composed.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then why are you here?” Yoongi pressed, his tone firm.

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh. “Because someone saw me with her at the ball, and apparently, that’s enough to make me the prime suspect. Never mind that half the company was there."

I glanced at Yoongi, who didn’t break his stare. “And what about Tina? Did she say anything to you that night? Act strange? Mention something... off?”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “She didn’t say much of anything to me. She was too busy playing her games, like always. I told everything to the police but they still keep me in this godforsaken hole.”

“Games?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Y/N, you know fully well how she was,” Jungkook said, his voice bitter. “Testing people's limits, making sure everyone knew she had the upper hand. But I didn’t play along, and maybe that pissed her off. Who knows?”

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze never leaving Jungkook. “You need to give us more than that. If you want us to help you, we need something concrete.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow raised, he was shifting his eyes from me and Yoongi. I looked away, avoiding his gaze. “Help me? Since when are you two playing detectives?”

I rolled my eyes. "We are trying to help you out." I snapped and Jungkook shifted in his seat, letting out a deep sigh of defeat.

The tension in the room thickened, and I felt a pang of guilt watching Jungkook sitting there, defiant but vulnerable. I glanced at Yoongi, his steely demeanor unwavering as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Do you know for how long you will be captive here?" I finally asked. Jungkook shrugged. "No idea, until they find an evidence that the killer was not me." "What happens to the comapny now?" I pressed, "is it gonna shut down?" "I will take over." Yoongi muttered, "for the time being, until Jungkook gets released." I frowned glancing at Jungkook who hummed, I guess they managed to talk this through.  "Fine, we will keep digging and see what we will find."  "We?" My Boss frowned, "Y/N, I don't want you to get involved in this." "See?!Told her the same thingg, she doesn't listen." "Stop blabbing about the same things, I want in and I want to help. You two, adult men, act like kids. Jungkook, your situation here is not colorful at all. The quicker we get you out, the quick it would be your name to be cleared in front of the media." -

The sharp chill of the late evening air greeted us as we stepped out of the police station. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, my mind still racing with everything that had just transpired. Jungkook’s face, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, was etched in my memory.

“I’ll call a cab,” I muttered, fishing my phone out of my bag.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, stepping toward the parking lot. “Don’t bother. I’ll drive you.”

I stopped mid-dial and turned to him. “No offense, but I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was an edge of impatience in his voice. “Why? Because I’m not the most charming chauffeur? Or are you still mad at me for that club thing-y?”

“Neither,” I said quickly, my tone defensive. “It’s just... I don’t need you to babysit me, Yoongi. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” he said dryly, gesturing to my phone. “And you’ll do that by waiting alone outside a police station at night for a cab? Genius plan.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I realized how ridiculous it would sound. With a resigned sigh, I slid my phone back into my bag. “Fine. But no commentary while you drive.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smirk, leading the way to his car.

The ride started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Yoongi’s driving was calm and efficient, and for some reason, it annoyed me that he didn’t seem as rattled by everything as I was.

“Yesterday,” I began, breaking the silence, “when I was cleaning out Tina’s desk... I found something.”

He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “The journal.”

I blinked, surprised. “How did you—”

"Do you think I am that stupid?"  There was silence, he narrowed his eyes, "don't even answer this, Y/N." I chuckled at that and shrugged my shoulders. "I saw you take a suspicious looking book off Tina's desk without the police looking so..." "I figured that it's better to find who did it first with a solid evidence, before turning it to the police." I hesitated but continued, “It’s... disturbing. Tina wrote about people she hated—colleagues, clients, even... me.”

Yoongi didn’t react visibly, but I caught his fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“She was ruthless,” I continued. “Manipulating people, sabotaging careers—it’s all in there. And then there are these cryptic entries about a ‘deal.’ She doesn’t say who it was with, but it’s obvious it was risky. She mentioned being scared, like she knew it might backfire.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “And now she’s dead.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of it hitting me again. “Yeah. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Someone she crossed or someone involved in that deal... they might have wanted her gone.”

“You said the police don’t know about it yet?” he asked, his voice tense.

“No,” I admitted. “I didn’t trust them to handle it the right way, especially with the way they’re already treating Jungkook.”

“Smart,” Yoongi said, nodding approvingly. “But if that journal is as explosive as you say, keeping it quiet might put you in danger.”

I bit my lip, anxiety bubbling in my chest. “I know. But what choice do I have? If it can help clear Jungkook’s name, I can’t just ignore it.”

Yoongi pulled into a quieter street, the streetlights casting long shadows over the car. He turned to me, his dark eyes serious. “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N. Whatever’s in that journal, we’re going to figure it out together.”

For a moment, his words surprised me. Despite his often aloof demeanor, there was an unexpected warmth in his voice.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, meaning it.

He nodded once and turned his attention back to the road, the rest of the drive passing in contemplative silence.

When we finally reached my place, he parked at the curb and leaned back in his seat. “Keep the journal close. Don’t let anyone else see it for now.”

“I won’t,” I assured him, opening the door.

As I stepped out, he called after me, “And Y/N?”

I paused, turning back.

“Be careful,” he said, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

I nodded, clutching my bag tightly as I headed up to my apartment, the weight of the journal—and everything it represented—feeling heavier than ever.

[sweeturavity]

Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

𝓒𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

you loved your husband dearly—even though his attitude sometimes felt like wrangling a feral cat, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. katsuki was a great husband and an even better father. somehow, he managed to juggle being the number one hero, a title that came with endless demands, while still making time for you and your little family.

and then there was kanji. your six-year-old son who was, quite frankly, a miniature katsuki in every sense. the same fiery attitude, the unshakable stubbornness, the sass that could cut sharper than any blade. even the way he’d glare at people—it was uncanny. sometimes you’d swear you were looking at a younger version of your husband.

it wasn’t just his personality, either. kanji’s wild blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, and even the way he crossed his arms when he was annoyed? all bakugou. it was as if the universe had taken katsuki and hit the copy-paste button without consulting you first. you couldn’t help but feel a little robbed—after all, you were the one who carried him for nine months, dealt with the swollen feet, the cravings, the mood swings. and yet, kanji turned out to be a walking, talking katsuki replica.

but honestly? you didn’t really mind. even when kanji’s temper flared, or when he mimicked his dad’s bossy tone, it made your heart warm. because as much as katsuki’s attitude could be a challenge, you loved everything about him. and seeing those same traits in kanji, no matter how chaotic they made your days, was a reminder of the love the two of you had built.

you always knew how much your son looked up to his father—it was written all over kanji’s face. every little thing katsuki did, kanji wanted to do, too. he’d follow katsuki around the house, mimicking his movements, copying the way he crossed his arms or the gruff way he’d say, ‘tch’. kanji’s biggest dream, even at six years old, was to be the number one hero, just like his dad. and katsuki? oh, he ate that up.

“when you’re older, kid, i’ll show ya all the tricks.” katsuki would say, ruffling kanji’s already messy blond hair. “i’ll make sure you’re better than all those extras out there.” kanji’s eyes would light up every time, and the two of them would launch into some over-the-top conversation about training regimens and hero rankings. their bond was undeniable, built on the same fiery ambition and drive that katsuki had passed down to him.

but with that bond came the attitude. katsuki’s attitude. and you swore sometimes it was your curse to deal with two versions of the same fiery temper under one roof. kanji had inherited more than just katsuki’s looks—he had the same sharp tongue, the same unrelenting sass, and the same way of glaring at you like you were personally ruining his day when he didn’t get his way.

you loved your son to pieces, but oh, how your patience was tested.

you swore sometimes you could feel your eye twitch when your six-year-old son had the audacity to sass you. “kanji, clean up your toys.” you’d say, only to be met with an exasperated; “ugh, fine, mom. i’ll do it later, jeez!” complete with an eye roll so dramatic it could win awards.

“watch your tone, kanji.” you’d warn, and from the next room, katsuki would shout, “oi, don’t be talkin’ to your mom like that, you little brat!” and yet, you’d catch him stifling a laugh when kanji wasn’t looking, because deep down, katsuki knew exactly where the kid got it from.

there were days you swore you were outnumbered—two bakugous against one you—but deep down, you couldn’t help but love it. kanji’s sass, as frustrating as it could be, was just another reminder of the fiery, headstrong family you’d built. even if it meant you’d occasionally lose an argument to a six-year-old.

and that’s how you ended up in this situation. you were just trying to get through the grocery trip without any chaos. that was the goal. in and out—grab the essentials and avoid anything that might set off your six-year-old son, kanji. but, of course, life had other plans.

everything had been going smoothly until you turned down the toy aisle, rookie mistake. kanji’s sharp gaze zeroed in on a display of action figures, specifically a limited-edition hero toy that looked suspiciously like dynamight himself. his tiny hand grabbed your sleeve, tugging with determination.

“mom! mom! look! it’s dad’s toy! i need it!”

you gave him a soft smile, crouching down to his level. “kanji, we’re not getting toys today, baby. we’re just here for groceries. you already have tons of toys at home.”

big mistake.

his bottom lip jutted out, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “but i don’t have this one!”

before you could reason with him, he dropped to the floor in a dramatic fashion, kicking his legs and letting out an ear-piercing wail that had heads turning from all directions. your cheeks burned as you tried to calm him, murmuring soft words that fell on deaf ears.

“kanji, stop this right now.” you whispered, glancing around at the growing number of onlookers. “you’re making a scene.”

“i don’t care!” he shouted back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i want it!”

just as you were about to give up and let the earth swallow you whole, a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

“kanji.”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. katsuki’s voice was low and sharp, the kind that made grown adults flinch—and it had your son freezing mid-tantrum.

before you could say anything else, katsuki—who’d been a few steps behind grabbing something off the shelf—appeared, his towering figure and unmistakable presence shutting down the entire aisle’s noise. his crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at kanji.

“oi, brat. knock it off.” he barked, his voice low and firm, the same tone he used as pro hero dynamight when things got serious. kanji’s sobs faltered for a moment, but he looked up at his dad with that same fiery determination katsuki himself had mastered.

“but daddy! i need it!” kanji tried, sniffling dramatically.

“you don’t need it.” katsuki shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “what you need is to listen to your mom and stop actin’ like a damn spoiled kid.”

kanji’s bottom lip quivered. “but—”

“no buts.” katsuki interrupted, crouching down to kanji’s level. his tone softened just slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. “you think screamin’ and cryin’ is gonna get you what you want? not a chance. that ain’t how it works. you don’t get somethin’ just ‘cause you throw a fit. you gotta earn it, got it?”

kanji blinked up at him, his tears slowing as the weight of his dad’s words sank in. he mumbled something incoherent, and katsuki tilted his head.

“what was that?”

“got it.” kanji said more clearly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“good.” bakugou said, ruffling the boy’s spiky blonde hair before standing back up. he glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay, mama?”

“yeah.” you muttered, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from the scene. “thanks for stepping in.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “you’ve been dealin’ with his crap all day, huh?”

“you have no idea.”

bakugou glanced back at kanji, who was now holding onto your leg, looking thoroughly chastised.“now quit the damn tears and help your mom with the list.” katsuki stood up and ruffled kanji’s messy blond hair, his version of an apology for being so harsh.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. katsuki turned to you with a smirk, his tone lighter now. “what?”

“strict dad mode, huh?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“damn right. kid’s gotta learn. can’t have him thinkin’ just ‘cause his old man’s dynamight he can get whatever he wants.”

later, as you loaded groceries into the car, you noticed katsuki handing a small bag to kanji, who lit up with excitement.

“you bought it for him anyway?” you asked, raising a brow.

katsuki shrugged, smirking. “don’t get used to it, kid.” he said to kanji. “this doesn’t mean you get what you want every time.”

kanji nodded enthusiastically, clutching the action figure like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

you rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “strict dad, my ass.”

“hey.” katsuki shot back, pulling you closer. “i can be strict and still spoil my kid. he is a bakugou, after all.”

[threestarsinline]

The Word of Your Body

Jason Todd x reader one shot

Summary: Jason comes back from patrol, but something is keeping his mind still somewhere out there. You're always there to bring him back and let him know he's safe. At home. With you.

Word Count: 5.8K

Category: Angst-ish because Jason is going through it but fluff because reader is there to comfort him

Warnings: Jason having a bad time

Author’s note: I know, I know, three fics in one year?? Who am I? Jsjksks truly an achivement for me, very happy and very proud hehe. Thank you for sticking with me and supporting my fics, I love you all. That said, enjoy!

It’s really incredible how much one can know about a person just by their body. From the way they move, to how they carry themselves, to the small gestures that they make in their day to day that reflect who they are, to the little telltale signs of how they’re feeling. A smile, a wrinkle between the eyebrows, a twitch of their hand.

And not just the movements of the body but you can also learn a lot from the singularities and marks that one has on their skin. A child with a scrape on their knee from running too fast on the playground. A chef with hundreds of small cuts on their hands from mastering the use of a knife. A ballet dancer with wounded toes. A painter with watercolors under their nails. A piano player with soft and delicate hands.

You can have a lot of information about a person just by observing them, knowing how they move and how their body reacts to things. A flinch from fear at the threat of danger. A shiver at the gentle touch of a lover.

That’s how you immediately know that something’s wrong when Jason returns from patrol. And you don’t even need to see him.

You’re reading in bed when you hear him come in. Always waiting up for him whenever you can. It isn’t difficult for you since you’ve always preferred staying up late rather than waking up early. Unless you have something to do early the next morning, you always wait for him to come home, to come to you, liking to see him as soon as he returns to make sure that he’s made it back to you safe and sound.

You either read or watch something on TV while you wait despite how many times he’s told you that you don’t have to wait up for him, that you should sleep. And every time you shake your head and say, “And go to sleep without you next to me? Never.” And every time Jason rolls his eyes at your stubbornness while his heart thrums in his chest at how much he loves you and then gently cups your face in his hands and kisses you softly.

And even when you can’t help it and you do have to go to sleep earlier or exhaustion wins over you and brings you to the depths of slumber without warning, Jason always approaches you quietly so as to not disturb you and kisses your forehead to let you know he’s home. If you’re on the couch he brings you to bed, and if you’re already in bed, he settles the covers better over you, just the way you like.

And those times you always smile in your sleepy state and unless he’s injured and needs your help patching him up, you follow semi consciously the sound of his footsteps around the apartment. The sound of the shower as he steps inside to rinse away the Gotham night clinging to him, the sound of rustling sheets as he finally climbs into bed with you, and are finally lulled back to sleep when warmth surrounds you as he brings you into his arms.

You’re no metahuman but you’ve developed a sixth sense for everything regarding Jason Todd. You would be able to easily spot him in a crowd of thousands after having just faintly heard his voice in the distance even if he didn’t have that white tuft of hair singling him out, all your senses zeroed in on him. It’s like your body and mind are always tuned to find him, like tweaking the dial of the car radio to find your favorite station and finding it on the very first try.

You have a master’s degree on Jason Todd and all of his movements, small gestures and twitch of expressions that he doesn’t even realize that he’s doing, you know it all by heart. You know that when the right side of his smirk pulls slightly at his cheek as he’s admiring you doing something mundane, he’s going to kiss you. You know that when he flexes his hands at his sides something is bothering him. You know that he’s going to laugh loudly and wholeheartedly when the sound makes his shoulders shake slightly before making its way up his throat, as if he’s trying to contain it but the laugh is so strong and spontaneous that he can’t fight it. And you know he’s in pain from a bruise on his ribs when he shifts his weight on his feet and a grimace appears on his face for just a second.

That’s how you know that something’s up when you hear him climb through your living room window and his steps don’t sound as if he’s trying to not make too much noise in order to not wake you up in case that you’re asleep, but as if he's trying to make himself as small as possible. It’s a subtle difference but it’s there. You know it because you’ve encountered it before.

Your worry only increases when in the next four seconds that it takes you to find your bookmark between the sheets and place it in your book, you don’t hear him move at all. He doesn’t come find you and he doesn’t call your name.

When you exit the bedroom you find him in the middle of the living room. He just stands there, shoulders hunched, red helmet gripped tightly in hand, head looking down, his hair falling over his forehead.

Something has happened. You don’t know what it is but your first worry right now is making sure that he’s okay. If he heard you come into the room he doesn’t show it. You take a couple of small yet purposeful steps towards him, making sure that they can be heard so that you can alert him of your presence, not wanting to startle him.

But nothing. He stays frozen.

You take a deep breath as your heart clenches at seeing him like this. It’s bad. Whatever has happened is really, really bad and it seems like Jason’s mind is still there. He’s not fully present with you right now.

But you know what you have to do. You have to bring him back here with you. Help him to separate himself, your loving, wonderful, and kind Jason from the horrors that Red Hood has to face every day.

You take another step in his direction. “Jason?” you whisper softly.

He doesn’t react. But he doesn’t flinch either. That’s good. He knows he’s somewhere safe. But he still needs to distance himself from whatever was out there. You finally come to stand in front of him, still not touching him. “Jay?” you try again while assessing him over, trying to pinpoint if he’s injured.

Again, nothing. But the hair that hangs over his forehead moves ever so subtly, almost in an imperceptible way, but you catch it nonetheless. The hair moved because he tilted his head in the slightest of ways. He’s listening to you. Knows that you’re there. You sigh in relief when you see his grip on the helmet lessen too. Good signs.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?”

He releases a deep breath, slowly allowing himself to let go, the tension that his shoulders held not as tight as before. Leaving his body slightly, leaving him at your mercy. He’s saying, Okay. Satisfied at that and at finding that he doesn’t seem to have any major injuries, you nod. Then, you gently and very slowly take his face in your hands to look at him. His eyes acknowledge you for a split second but then his emerald gaze returns to the floor, and you feel a crack forming in your heart at the utter sadness, desperation, and despair that you find in it.

Still, you feel him melt into your touch at his cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re home,” you offer softly.

He closes his eyes in response, reveling in the comfort that you bring him. Next, you take the helmet from his hand and set it on the kitchen counter before moving to the holster with his guns and very carefully unfastening its belt and leaving it all on the table. Helping him that way to step out of the Red Hood persona and everything that claws into it.

“Let’s take a shower,” you say, wanting to keep him informed of your every move. You take his hand and pull him with you towards the bathroom. He lets you guide him, fully trusting you but still not reacting to anything much.

You don’t ask him what’s happened. You don’t need to know. There are things that Jason doesn’t tell you about patrol. And you have no problem with it, knowing that he wants to separate those two parts of his life. But no matter what it is, you always let him know that he can come to you about them, that you’ll listen. That you’ll always be there for him. Always.

The other few times that you have seen him come home like this, slouched over and not talking much, you later learn, either by context from what you hear on the news and the streets, or by Jason directly telling you about it when he needs to let go and finally feels able share it, that the people he was after got away, that someone got hurt, or something like that.

But this time… This time something’s different. You have never seen him as bad as this. At least not from coming back from patrol. And it worries you. It worries you a lot and it kills you that you can’t do anything more than just be there for him. But it seems that that’s all that he needs right now so you settle on focusing on him.

From the guiltiness that hangs over him, tensing his shoulders and keeping his eyes down, and the distress and sorrow that you see in his gaze, you have a feeling that something terrible happened. Something that he couldn’t prevent. He couldn’t save somebody.

You can almost see how he’s replaying it in his mind, the shame and regret swirling in his head until they stiff all of his body. You need to reassure him, make him see how it isn’t his fault, how he did everything he could, and how he gave his all but how sometimes, despite how much you fight it and try to stop it, Gotham doesn’t let you escape the rot that runs through its streets.

Once you two reach the bathroom, you flick on the mirror light above the sink, casting you two in a soft golden light, not wanting to overwhelm him with the overhead one and its strong intensity.

You stand in front of him and help him take off his jacket before taking his hands in yours. He still doesn’t look at you as you take off his gloves. Once they’re gone, you take a moment to examine his hands, and you let out a sigh of relief at seeing that his knuckles aren’t wounded. Your thumbs softly trace the marred skin, small scars and irregular healing adorning his hands. You can’t help but bring them to your lips and press a long kiss to them, closing your eyes, trying to will away all the mental scars that they hold too just by the touch of your lips.

His hands, that could break bones but also mend and heal the most broken parts of yourself.

Despite what those hands either curled into fists or holding a gun could mean to other people, they’re precious to you. And one of the many wonderful parts of him. To you, they mean soft caresses while you’re laying in bed. They mean warmth when winter comes and he rubs them against your arms. They mean comfort, and safety, as he holds your sobbing body when you break down.

Their roughness both from handling dangerous weapons and using a pan to make you dinner. Jason Todd has a duality that still amazes you to this day, but you love all the multitudes that he contains all the same.

You then begin to remove his equipment. The chest armor, the knee pads, and any other protective gear, putting it all on the pile that you started with his jacket and gloves on top of the laundry basket to sort out later. Jason doesn’t move, only doing the movement necessary to help you undress him, like lifting his feet so that you can slip his boots off after having unlaced them.

But still, his gaze remains lost.

You set the boots to the side and get back up to your feet again. You walk around him to get the tub started for a bath, adding some oils and soap. You pass by him to exit the bathroom and grab some comfortable clothes for him after. Most of the time, unless it’s very cold, he normally sleeps shirtless with some sweatpants or even just his underwear during the hotter months, but you know that tonight he needs to feel covered, enveloped, protected. You begin to plan in your mind. A comfortable old shirt and sweatpants will do.

However, before you can even reach the doorframe and begin your walk to the bedroom, a hand wraps gently around your wrist. You whip back around, both surprised and glad at the same time that Jason has finally interacted with you on his own accord, this being the first contact with the outside world initiated by him. Another good sign.

You see Jason’s eyes fixed on your wrist before lifting his gaze to lock with yours.

Stay.

Your gaze softens and you take another step closer to him, almost being chest to chest. You lift your free hand to caress his cheek. “Of course,” you whisper. “I’m just going to grab you some clothes, okay? It’ll be five seconds.”

As you assure him, without realizing it, your thumb traces his cheek in the exact same motion that he has begun to rub soft circles into your wrist. He nods slowly.

“Okay,” you say and Jason releases his hold on you just enough for you to quickly slip to the bedroom. And just like you promised, you’re back just as fast, closing the door behind you so that the steam from the tub can warm up the room, starting to fog up the mirror too, and setting the clothes on the counter. And Jason still hasn’t moved an inch.

You stand in front of him again and delicately grab the hem of his shirt before looking up at him. And you don’t need words to understand each other. Can I?

Jason’s chin tips slightly. Yeah.

You slowly lift the shirt up his body and he raises his arms to help you. Once off, you leave the shirt with the rest of his discarded clothes. Then, with your hands in front of you so that Jason can see what you’re doing and anticipate your movements, you rest them on his shoulders and then gently slide them down his chest, feeling his well-worked muscles and creases from the scars on his skin.

Jason lets out a deep breath, the skin to skin contact grounding him. His eyes never leave you now, following every single one of your actions. And not because he needs to see what you’re doing in order to prepare himself, not anymore, but because you’re the only thing that seems real right now. The only thing tethering him to Earth.

Because to him, you’re his center of gravity. No matter how far he went, both in distance and into the depths of his mind, he will always come back to you.

You lean forward and press a tender kiss between his pecs. Jason shudders, feeling warmth, comfort, and light blooming from the spot that you kissed and extending through all of his body, from his torso to the ends of his limbs. Your touch like the first rays of sunshine after the coldest and longest night of the year in a frozen landscape, melting the frost and bringing everything back to life. Chasing away the Gotham chill clinging to his bones and the rigidness that holds him hostage. Replacing it all with you, just you. The warmth and safety that you provide.

Jason thinks that he wasn’t actually brought back to life all those years ago, just went through some kind of purgatory on Earth again until he reached his very own personal heaven. You. And he still has no idea what he did to deserve it.

Then you help him out of his pants until he’s standing in his underwear in front of you. His back is hunched, making him lean towards you but this time it’s not because of all the negative thoughts hanging over him, but because of the pull that you have over him, your gravity drawing him in.

You round him again to check the temperature of the water in the tub, though this time, Jason rotates his body to follow you, like a sunflower chasing the sun. Satisfied with both the water’s temperature and quantity, you close the tap.

“You want me to get in with you?” you ask, not minding that you have already showered for the day. Jason nods.

You nod to yourself and peel the shirt of his that you wear to sleep off your body, leaving you just like him, wearing only your lower underwear. And even with how exposed you two are, you’re not vulnerable. The air in the room thick not only with humidity but with the intimacy between you two. A kind that can only come from honest love and a complete feeling of trust.

But the air isn’t humming with electricity like in the other situations in which you two find yourselves with as little clothing as right now. Instead, the air is lulling, like a soft and warm wave gently rocking your body when you lay with your eyes closed in the sea. Comforting and lightening.

You discard both your final pieces of clothing and step into the tub, holding a hand out to Jason so that he can step in in front of you. When he joins you, you two finally sink your bodies in the warm and bubble covered water. You lean back at the edge of the tub with Jason between your legs, his back pressed to your chest, his head resting on your shoulder and your arms draped over his chest, all of you surrounding him, enveloping him, protecting him.

Even though the tub is relatively big, considering Jason’s huge frame, it wasn’t exactly meant for two, so you’re a mess of tangled limbs and warm bodies, but you can already feel Jason relaxing against you. You kiss the crown of his head and he finally closes his eyes.

You two lay there for a while, enjoying the hot water and letting it wash your worries away, the scent from the lavender oil that you used hanging in the air, calming your minds. You’re glad to see how the bath is helping Jason to let go of the events of the night, the remaining tension that clung to his body stripped by the water, and the memories from the night relegated to another place as you see the crease on his brows disappear as you draw gentle caresses on his chest.

You grab the shampoo bottle and start to wash Jason’s hair, working the roots and massaging his scalp to help him relax even further. Soon, hundreds of tiny white bubbles replace the sight of his black locks. You work on his hair longer than necessary but you can see how much it’s helping him, his breathing becoming even more deeper and slower. The only sign that he hasn’t fallen asleep, the hand that settles on your knee at his side.

You then rinse his hair, his white streak majestically poking between the black again. With a sponge you start to wash his body where you can reach, his shoulders, his upper arms and torso. When you’re done you maneuver yourself to sit in front of him, facing each other now. As you start to wash the rest of his arms, you see in his eyes that his thoughts are beginning to slip away, the events of the night calling him again. But you’re not having it. Nothing is taking Jason away from you tonight. Your goal, making him focus on you and only you.

“Can I tell you a story?” you say softly, your voice and the soft splash of water at the slightest movement the only sounds in the room.

Jason just shrugs his shoulders slightly. You nod as you focus on passing the sponge over his hands.

“It’s the story of a boy and a girl. About a wonderful boy and a girl who couldn’t believe her luck,” you begin. “One freezing winter afternoon, the girl slipped on some ice and the guy caught her by the waist, saving her from a pretty hurtful fate, though she almost brought him down with her. She apologized profusely as her cheeks warmed not only because of the embarrassment but because the man who’d caught her was the most handsome one she’d ever seen. But in her haste to step back from the stranger to try and save some embarrassment, she slipped on the ice again and he saved her once again.”

Jason can’t help the small smile that pulls at his lips. Because the story that you’re telling isn’t just any story. It’s your story. The story of how you met.

He wonders how you always knew exactly what to say. Hell, you could just be reading the grocery list out loud and he’d think that you deserved a Nobel Prize in Literature just because it came from you.

The sight of Jason’s smile pulls your lips into one too, and it warms your heart just like his worried gaze had done to your cheeks that very first day.

Both of you remember that day as clear as day, though neither of you could have ever anticipated how important it would be, how it had changed the course of your lives. You can still perfectly recall how he had cleared his throat awkwardly after catching you for the second time and his You alright, miss? How breathy his voice had sounded, as if something had taken his breath away, his heavy lower Gotham accent that had both surprised you and stirred something within you, and how vivid the green in his eyes was.

Just as bright as it is now as you continue the story. The shine that was always there whenever he looked at you.

“She had been pretty awkward, and she still can't believe how she’d managed to pull the kindest and hottest man in all of Gotham, the world even.” Jason snorts and you throw him a look, telling him not to question you because if there is one universal truth in this world—apart from the fact that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife—is that Jason Todd is the kindest and most gorgeous man that you have ever met.

“Though later he would reveal that he had found her nothing but endearing, despite what she might say about her awkwardness,” you continue.

Something about you already drawing him in. But just as quick as it all had happened, the moment passed by, and you two went your separate ways. Though not for long, because some time later, another afternoon, you were walking home when a running figure turned the corner and clashed into you. As you took a couple steps back to stabilize yourself you realized that you were head to head with the Red Hood. Which was strange since the sun was still setting and he had never been seen other than at night.

Jason hadn't planned on starting patrol so early but Tim had tipped him that some guys that he was after were having a meet up and Jason decided to give them a little surprise. Though that plan flew out the metaphorical window in the room of his mind as soon as he saw you again.

He had tried to forget the encounter in which he had saved the most beautiful girl that he’d ever seen from tumbling to the ground, and just as it seemed like he was about to succeed (not really, but at least manage to push the encounter to the back of his mind instead of your soft voice plaguing his every waking moment), he ran into you.

He stared at you bewildered, not believing that it was you, the sweet girl from the ice, and he was at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” you had said and at the sound of your voice he finally came out of his daze and shook his head.

“No need, it was my fault." He tilted his head. “You okay, miss?” You nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at how similar he had sounded to your ice savior, his voice ingrained in your mind. And as much as Jason would have loved to stay there with you for a bit longer and hopefully learn your name, he had to get going, so he apologized again and you watched as he left.

And that should have been it. But somehow, it seemed like the universe had other ideas, crossing your paths later once again. And then one thing led to another and here you were now, sharing laundry and rent. Who would have thought? Certainly not you, when those strong arms caught you and you had no idea that they would become the place where you would feel the safest in.

Home.

Jason keeps listening as you finish recalling the start of your relationship. “And so their adventure together began. The clumsy girl from the ice and the boy that despite his rough exterior, had the gentlest, bravest, most selfless and most beautiful heart that she’d ever come to know.”

You finish the story with an enamored smile on your lips, the sweet memories fueling even more your love for him. A love and reassurance that you hope you have been able to convey in the story.

Jason sits in front of you with a small smile of his own, his heart beating golden light through his body, the love that you put there. His body finally relaxed and at peace, your hands holding his.

But then the smile falls from your lips as you see his eyes glass over. And even before he starts to tremble you pull him into you, wrapping your arms around him, his face hidden in your neck, his own arms snaking around you, holding you tight. And as the first tremors shake his shoulders, the first tears start to fall.

And you hold him through it. Taking everything that he needs to let go of in stride.

Because without the armor that he had built to keep his emotions at bay, swimming in the guilt and regret, once he finally relaxes, accepts that he’s safe and allows himself to be vulnerable, the dam breaks. And all the feelings come tumbling over.

The impotence. The sadness. The failure.

He’s not outright sobbing, the feelings working slowly but surely through him one by one. His body trembles slightly, a few tears falling onto your shoulder and a couple of sniffles here and there.

“I- I couldn’t-” He shakes his head and keeps silent once again. The first words that he’s said since he came home. The cracks in his broken voice forming ones in your heart. It stings more than salt in an open wound. You hold him as tight as you can. It’s like he needs to exteriorize these feelings and his body is allowing him to, but his voice can’t even go further than repeating that phrase over and over again. You shush him gently, letting him know that he doesn’t need to force himself to say anything. You’re here for him and that’s all that matters.

“It’s okay. You did everything you could, Jason. You’re a good man,” you whisper, trying to soothe the torture that he’s submitting himself to. But he shakes his head even more vehemently at your reassuring words and beautiful thoughts of him. Right now they don’t make any sense to him with how much he failed tonight. He’s not brave. He’s not kind. And he certainly isn’t good. He doesn’t know how you can say all of those things about him when he couldn’t-

You feel his internal monologue with how the time between his trembles, tears, and sniffles stretches. He’s lost in his head again. Thinking instead of feeling.

“Jason, hey, no. Stop,” you whisper gently but firmly. You unwind your arms from around him and take his head in your hands, holding his forehead to yours, looking into his eyes though his gaze avoids you.

“You are good. You’re kind, stubborn, funny, brave, determined, sarcastic, gentle, and loving. You’re all of those things. And sometimes things just go wrong and you can’t do anything to prevent them. You didn’t make any mistakes tonight, okay?” You don’t actually think that he can do anything wrong but you keep that to yourself. “Not being able to prevent something bad doesn’t make you any less of a good person.”

You can see how the thoughts race in his eyes.

“Jason. Look at me.” He finally locks eyes with you. “You know I’m not good at lying so listen to me when I say this. Whatever happened tonight is not your fault. You can cry. You should cry. You have to let go of everything that is storming inside you. What I’m not letting you do is convince yourself that you’re not good enough. Because you are, you hear me? You are.” You can’t help the tears that begin to prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I love you and I’m always going to be here for you for whatever you need, okay?” As a tear slips from your eye, Jason nods and hides in your neck again, letting his tears flow again. Letting himself feel. You envelop him in your arms once again.

“Okay,” he mutters against your skin. You sigh in relief and start to trace long shapes on his back.

You two stay there for a while, until both of you stop crying and his breathing returns to normal. And then you stay a little longer, just holding each other, Jason letting himself get lost in your soft skin and soothing scent, finally, finally, letting the night go. At least for now.

And then even a little longer, until the water turns lukewarm and a chill runs through your bodies.

“Want to go to bed?” you ask softly, threading your fingers through his hair, brushing away the damp strands falling on his forehead.

He nods slowly, lifting his head from your neck. “Thank you,” he whispers. You shake your head and he knows what you mean, You don’t have to thank me, I’d do anything for you.

“Come on,” you say and get up, offering him your hands. He takes them and gets up as well. You let the tub drain and step out of it, Jason following you. You quickly wrap Jason in a towel and then do the same with yourself. When you're done, he takes one of your hands gently and, while looking deep into your eyes, he kisses your knuckles. Thank you.

This time your gaze softens and you rest your hand against his heart. Of course.

After drying off you put your sleeping clothes back on and when you see Jason with the briefs that you brought already on and reaching towards the sweatpants, you gently swat his hand away. Let me take care of you.

He raises his hands in surrender and takes a step away from his clothes. Yes, ma’am.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need me to patch you up?” He doesn’t seem to have any injury but you want to make sure. He shakes his head. You arch an eyebrow. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s tried to lie to you about that. He nods, extending his arms so that you can examine him, showing how he doesn’t have any wounds. You wait for a beat before nodding.

You help him get dressed and all the while his fond gaze follows you. He’s sure that the best feeling in the world is being taken care of by you. That sunshine feeling blooming again in his chest. You’re so bright and he’s just so- No. He’s promised that he isn’t going to think like that anymore. At least not more tonight.

He follows your directions as you make him sit on the toilet and watches as you comb his hair. But then he can’t help but close his eyes at how relaxed he feels under your care. When you’re done you kiss his forehead and he hums as you run your hand through his hair. When he opens his eyes again, you’re extending a hand to him and he takes it without hesitation.

You turn off the bathroom light and guide him to the bedroom. You climb into bed, your side always the furthest one from the door, no matter where you are, at home, at the manor, or traveling, Jason makes sure of that, and you open your arms, inviting him into your embrace. Jason gets into bed, laying half on top of you, and wraps his arms around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck, your legs tangled. You drape the covers over you both, practically burying yourselves under them and wrap your arms around him, protecting him from anything that could hurt him. Your very own cocoon.

He gives your waist a slight squeeze. I love you. You kiss his hair in return, hugging him even tighter.

And as you hold him tight, the two of you know that what happened tonight out there would still haunt Jason despite all your reassurances. But just as you know that, you also know that you’re always going to be there for him. To love him and care for him. So, for tonight, Jason lets himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of your heart. Each rhythmic thump thump telling him, I got you, you’re okay, I love you, over and over again.

Just like for you with him, your arms the place where he feels safest in. Home.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[gmwpluvr]

i am such a mess for post-war, domestic hinny

harry who would come home after nearly dying in a mission to ginny and the kids and they all cuddle together in front of the fire

ginny running to catch her kids and harry in a hug after winning a quidditch match

harry making sure to be there at all of her games, events, and later press conferences (no.1 ginny weasley fan)

ginny making harry's birthdays a big deal because she knows that he grew up barely celebrating, and because it was no less than what he deserved

harry helping their kids make cards and presents and banners for their mummy for her birthday, mother's day, and games

ginny teaching their toddlers to say 'dada' because she knows how much it would mean to harry

harry getting her bouquets made of chocolate or food in general because he knows she adores it so much more (but doesn't forget to still get her the occasional roses and lilies)

ginny gifting him random, silly t-shirts that say 'desirable no.1' or 'ginny's chosen one' or 'my wife's always right' but he'd wear them proudly anyway, anywhere

harry skiving off of work because he literally killed voldemort cut him some slack to surprise ginny when her work needs her to go to international countries

ginny who would nearly burn down their kitchen trying to cook for harry when he comes home even though he's the chef in the family

hinny snickering over their affair allegations in the tabloids

hinny talking to teddy and telling him that he'll always be their first baby when ginny gets pregnant with james

hinny and the kids (which obviously includes teddy) having matching outfits for christmas

hinny who everyone (by everyone i mean people who don't know them) thought wasn't going to last because it's the chosen one and a quidditch superstar but they're in the newspaper every few days for pda

hinny whos barely seen publicly without the other

hinny who lives in the country side by the beach and grows old together until they're crusty and wrinkly and have many great great grandchildren

just...fuck...married hinny

[magnagaruzenmon]

Snow Miser

A Christmas gift for @midatwrtr. while I don't know you that well, and are a bit of a mystery to me. I do appreciate your style and willingness to be different. also I'd personally say your work is more of a solid 8-9.

You step into her apartment, and the familiar scent of vanilla and cherries greets you like a soft embrace. The warmth of her home, her presence, seeps into you, calming the edges of my weary soul. You let the door close behind you, the outside world and its chaos melting away. This is your sanctuary, not just because of the walls or the sweet fragrance in the air, but because of her.

“Kura-ssi!” You call out, your voice filling the quiet space. You half expect her to come running, but when no answer comes, You only smile. Instead, you hear faint grunts and the rhythmic clicking of buttons coming from her bedroom.

Shaking your head with a small chuckle, you follow the sound and step into her room—a cozy haven painted in shades of pink and sky blue. There she is, perched on the edge of her bed, her eyes glued to the screen as she navigates through Kingdom Hearts: Birth by Sleep Final Mix.

She doesn’t notice you right away. Her brows are furrowed in concentration, her fingers dancing on the controller. Watching her, you can’t help but grin. She’s come a long way since watching you do your playthroughs. It was your passion for the series that got her hooked, but now she’s just as in love with the characters, the worlds, and the art style as you are—maybe even more.

“Kura,” you say softly, my voice cutting through her focus. She jumps, startled, and turns to see you standing behind her.

“Ah, you’re back,” she says, her voice tinged with surprise but warm like sunlight. She pauses her game and gets up to hug you, wrapping her arms around you with a kind of care that always leaves you breathless. Her warmth seeps into you, spreading comfort to every corner of your being.

When she pulls back, she kisses your cheek, a soft, fleeting touch that lingers in the air between you two. “I need your help with this boss,” she says, her tone equal parts frustration and hope.

You nod, letting her lead her to the bed where you settle in front of the TV. She hands you the controller, and you glance at the screen, seeing that she’s stuck on the Braig fight. You press the pause button and start tweaking her setup—checking her command deck, swapping out weaker spells for stronger ones, and adding abilities you know will give her the edge.

She watches you quietly, her gaze curious and a little skeptical. “What is all this?” she finally asks.

“These are things to help make the fight easier,” you say, keeping your tone light. She tilts her head, her confusion softening into trust as she nods.

You finish adjusting her setup and hand the controller back to her. “You still gotta win for yourself,” you say with a small smile.

Her eyes widen, the look in them vulnerable yet determined. “That little voice of doubt in your head,” you add gently, “don’t listen to it. You’ve got this.”

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she nodded again, this time more resolute. Her hands are steady as she grips the controller, her focus sharpening.

Before she dives in, you notice her key blade isn’t optimized, so you take the controller for one last adjustment. She watches you, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across her face. “There,” you say, handing it back.

She takes a deep breath, then starts the fight. This time, she’s prepared. You sit beside her, quietly cheering her on with every well-timed dodge, every spell cast perfectly. When she finally lands the finishing blow, the screen erupts in victory.

“Yes!” she exclaims, spinning in her chair with a triumphant laugh. “I’m the best. I am the hero!”

You can’t help but laugh along with her. There’s something magical about the way her joy lights up the room, chasing away any lingering shadows. She’s still mid-spin when her eyes catch something outside the window.

The first snowflakes of the season are falling, delicate and slow. She stops, her gaze softening as she turns to you. “Leo-san, we have to go out into the snow,” she says, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

You groan dramatically, making her giggle, but you still stand and follow her. as you wonder how could you ever say no to her?

Outside, the cold air nips at your cheeks, but the sight of Sakura running into the snow, her arms outstretched like wings, makes you forget about the chill. She spins in circles, laughing as the snowflakes catch in her hair and melt on her cheeks.

“Look, look!” she calls, crouching down to scoop a handful of snow. She packs it together, forming a lopsided ball, and throws it in your direction. It lands harmlessly at your feet.

“You missed,” you tease, bending down to gather some snow of my own.

She sticks her tongue out at you, already grabbing more. “I’m just warming up!”

Before you know it, you're in the middle of a playful snowball fight. She shrieks as one of your throws lands squarely on her shoulder, and in retaliation, she charges at you, pelting you with a flurry of soft snow.

“Truce, truce!” you laugh, raising your hands in surrender.

She stops, her cheeks flushed and her breath visible in little clouds. “Only if you help me make a snowman,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

“Deal.”

You both work together, rolling snow into uneven spheres. Her hands brush against yours as we stack them, and every accidental touch feels deliberate, like a quiet affirmation of how much she means to you. She adds twigs for arms and uses a fallen leaf for a makeshift scarf, stepping back to admire y'all's creation.

“It’s perfect,” she declares, her face lit with pride.

You look at her instead of the snowman. “Yeah, it is.”

She catches you staring, her eyes softening. “Thank you for this,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For being here. For always being here.”

You smile and reach out to brush a snowflake from her hair. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the two of you rollick Sakura gets a text and groans.

"What is it Kura?" you ask.

"We have Jihyo's party to go to." She says, a bit annoyed.

You laugh and say, "Well then let's go."

Sakura pauses then says, "But babe, I'm a little hot and bothered. Can you do something about that before we get ready?"

You laugh and say, "Sure."

As the two of you walk back into her apartment Kura says, "Oh it's too warm," before turning the air on. The chill is surprisingly pleasant as she wraps herself around you. Sakura brings you in for a kiss that is equal parts passion and poise. You let her guide this dance of lust as her tongue wraps around yours first, before taking you into her bedroom. The frigid temperature further contrasts the heat building between you two as she disrobes. You follow suit as you follow her to bed. She smiles but realizes she's out of condoms. So the two of you drive to the local pharmacy to pick some up. As you finish Sakura looks at her phone again before groaning.

"babe. can you help me I need to go to the restroom." confused you follow her, only to be surprised when she bends over the toilet and presents her cute butt to you.

"We don't have time to go back home and shower, so fuck me right here then we can go," Sakura said as she seductively pulled her pants down. You fish your cock out and plunge into her. the cold of the restroom is biting as the two of you rut into each other. You groan as her tight cool walls envelop your manhood. Sakura groans happily.

"fuck yes." she coos as you rapaciously thrust in and out of her. Her cheeks begin to turn red as the lust and cold get to her. She looks at you with a coy and seductive smile,

"How is it?" she asks.

"the tightest., you respond Sakura smiles as your cock hits her womb. She smiles and then says are you close?" you nod as the two of you continue rutting in each other. She fucks herself while you near your climax. as you do you feel her walls tighten and clench you as she takes you in and out. eventually you reach your limit as do Sakura. you both climax as you look into each other's eyes. as you soften and retreat from her chilly cavern you smile and say. "Let's go frosty." Sakura rolls her eyes as the two you head home.

Eventually the two of you arrive at Jihyo's party. which means you run into me as I walk in around the same time as you two.

"Oh hey Dino," you say to me. I smile as I walk into the party with you

"Hey Leonardo. Hey Sakura, How are yall?" I ask. Sakura smiles politely and replies for the both of you.

"Chilly but happy to be here,"

[russellbby]

There's always pressure😣 Part 2

paring: charles leclerc x sister!f2 driver!reader, arthur leclerc x sister!f2 driver!reader

in which: the pressure of being the youngest Leclerc siblings keeps increasing..

requested: yes, by @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3

Part 1 Part 3 (coming soon)

twitter

//

Y/n sighed as she looked over Twitter, she knew that it would reach her mother who had been looking for her, it didn’t take long as her phone pinned again.

Maman❤️

You sneaked into the Mercedes garage?

This is disrespectful from you Y/n.

I mean it this time, get back to Ferrari now.

read

“You should probably go back, sweetheart. You don’t want to upset your mother anymore” Susie told her softly.

“Well, the damage has already been done so..” Y/n mumbled as she stood up.

“Keep off twitter kiddo, nothing nice comes from it and I know you too well to know you have been reading stuff” Lewis added.

“Know me too well Lew, anyways see you guys soon” Y/n said before leaving the Mercedes hospitality.

Toto, Susie and Lewis watched Y/n making her way towards Ferrari, trying to avoid cameras and reporters who wanted to know why she wasn’t with her family in Ferrari.

“She would be a perfect replacement for you” Toto said looking at Lewis, who only smiled.

//

“Y/n!” Pascale called as she seen her enter the Ferrari hospitality. “Hey maman,” Y/n mumbled before sitting down trying to avoid the glares from her and her brothers.

“Ferrari not good enough for you, sœur?” Arthur asked.

“I did watch you both,” Y/n replied.

“But you weren’t there when we got out the car, instead you were too busy talking to Lewis in Mercedes” Charles added.

“C’mon Y/n, we wanted the whole family together and you ruined it on not being there” Lorenzo told her.

Y/n made eye contact with Charlotte, Alex and Jade who gave her faint smiles before she looked down and started to fiddle with her fingers.

“If you were apart of Ferrari, maybe you could have had a chance like Arthur today” Pascale told her which made Y/n look up at her.

“I’m with Mercedes and I ain’t changing my mind, it’s my career you can’t control that” Y/n snapped, making her brothers look at her with widen eyes.

“Hey, don’t talk like that with maman!” Charles warned.

“But she isn’t wrong, Mercedes chose Kimi over you today and most likely for their second seat next year too” Arthur told her, which made Y/n feel her heart drop hearing her own brother say stuff like that.

“Arthur, too far.” Lorenzo replied.

“What? I’m not wrong, am I? She should of won the F2 championship weeks ago but it’s gone down to the final race and she might not even win it” Arthur added.

“F*ck off Arthur,” Y/n snapped.

“Y/n, don’t spea—

“No maman! I’ve had enough of you all! Do any of you know how badly I’ve felt today? No, because all you have cared about is the history Charles and Arthur has achieved today! You all have pushed me aside and didn’t even realise I wasn’t even in the garage until someone posted it on Twitter! All I have dealt with today is being compared to Charles and Arthur, how I should be on the same level as them as I’m a ‘Leclerc’, do any of you know how much pressure I have on my back?

People saying why I haven’t joined Ferrari as it runs in the family, I choose Mercedes to be different and to try create my own name in the sport, I’m sorry it’s offended you so much Arthur. Also, sorry I haven’t won the F2 championship already but why even comment about that Arthur as you haven’t even won it and got dropped!

Now, I’m leaving so please leave me alone and just think about I’m apart of this family too, even that may be surprising for some of you!”

The Leclerc family instantly feeling guilty when they watched the youngest leaving the hospitality with tears running down her face.

//

“Breathe kiddo,” Carlos said softly as he had his arms around the young girl and was in an excluded area of the paddock.

“I can’t do this anymore, Carlos” Y/n cried as she wiped her tears.

“Hey! None of that talk, you can’t give up now, you have already achieved so much” Lewis said as she joined the pair.

“But what’s the point anymore?” Y/n mumbled.

“Being named a F2 champion, is a good point to keep going” Lando said as he appeared out of nowhere.

“Listen to the muppet, but seriously you can’t give up now Y/n and I’m proud of the way you stood up towards your family” Carlos told her.

“C’mon, let’s take you back to Mercedes while Carlos and Lando can talk to your brothers” Lewis said giving a look over to the two other drivers who nodded.

While Lewis and Y/n made their back to Ferrari, Carlos told Lando what he heard the Leclerc family saying to Y/n. Soon enough they found Charles and Arthur.

//

“What is wrong with you both, seriously! She’s your little sister and you say that stuff to her? Your family are the only people who haven’t realised just how much she’s been struggling and says it all!” Carlos exclaimed as the kept quiet.

“Not saying anything says it all,I wasn’t even there but what Carlos had filled me in with, it tells me that you guys just took it too far” Lando added.

“We’re sorry alright? We all feel guilty, I didn’t think she was feeling this bad” Charles said.

“I was just angry that she wasn’t there when I got out the car today, it would of been amazing to celebrate that moment with her she knows how much it meant to me” Arthur mumbled.

“She is proud of you both, her face lit up when she seen you both on the track together. However, it’s gets too much for her sometimes as she knew from that moment the increasing pressure she would have on her to preform this weekend” Carlos told them.

“Just leave her alone for a bit, she’s going to be with in Mercedes. But you both and whole family need to talk to her before she races this weekend” Lewis said as she approached the four of them.

“We will,” both Leclerc brothers replied.

//

Part 3 is in the making! :)

[sgiandubh]

Heughan’s voice is as smooth as his whisky. His latest venture is his multi-award-winning whisky and gin, ‘The Sassenach’, the Gaelic word for ‘outsider’. He feels he is an outsider to the industry, but the idea behind the name seems to have emerged from his mother, who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment. “The name is very special to me,” he tells me.

Perhaps the video he recorded at Everest Base Camp was for his mother ?She's on IG too and we know Sam loves her so much and sometimes doesn't call her Mum but Chrissie. Cait is not a Sassenach because she's Irish. Sam calling her the Original Sassenach it's because of her character, Claire and he recently stated Caitriona is nothing like Claire (SheKnows interview). Either way it's not a big deal so don't blame me. It's just a thought and cute anyway .

Dear Sassenach Anon,

Let me count the ways. Quoting from memory first we had ' She [C] is the original Sassenach' (at one of the seasons' premieres in London, where he brought a bottle and waxed lyrical to the press over it). Then, we had 'Sassenach means foreigner in Scots Gaelic and it's a term of endearment of Jamie Fraser, the character I am playing in OL, for his wife' (numerous times for various media outlets). Then, 'I am the Sassenach, I always felt as an outsider, but also Jamie Fraser's term of endearment for his wife, Claire' (ditto). And then 'the name emerged from his mother who is an English artist and was called ‘Sassenach’ when she arrived in New Galloway, and in Outlander, Jamie Fraser calls his wife Sassenach as s term of endearment.'

The Arbuturian is a well regarded online magazine, founded in 2009 and based in London. It looks and reads to me as The New Yorker's slightly more plebeian, younger cousin of sorts - check their masthead mascot...

... and remember (ROFLMAO) The New Yorker's Eustace Tilley, its illustrious inspiration:

By the way, Eustace Tilley, one of my favorite dandies, was itself inspired by an engraving of the French count Alfred d'Orsay, by a certain... James Fraser, sometime around 1830. I kid you not and yes, totally Clan Fraser, born near Inverness:

Can't make this shite up, even if you wanted, huh?

Anyways, back to your question and this little media outlet that could. Its targeted audience is, according to Wikipedia:

In sociological lingo, AB means an educated mid-to high level management audience, with a hefty disposable income to boot (usually more than 1 million £/year net revenue). All it takes is a short stroll through their Lifestyle pages: according to them, among this year's most sought after Xmas gifts gimmicks are a Turnbull & Asser silk pocket square (£75) for him or a £200 voucher for Fairmont Windsor Park’s Ultimate Diamond Facial, for her.

This interview's one and only raison d'être was to sound appealing to this particular dinkie (double income, no kids) Generation X audience, especially as far as his booze was concerned. For he was on booze promo mode here and he obviously twisted a bit whatever (I repeat: whatever) his real motivation behind the brand name might have been to the least controversial possible version. It's hard to question or throw shite at this mum version, let alone at a version involving a heroic single parent as Chrissie H, let alone at Christmas time. This allowed him, at the same time, to elegantly keep his personal life away and separate between business and private: something he should have been doing since the very start. But S is a sentimental man and a people pleaser - we all know that, don't we?

It was important for S to be featured in this London online magazine, read by the same people he was once serving drinks to, at parties. It's all about aspirations, social climbing and being a part of that crowd. Finally!

And you, darling, are a troll, despite your protesting. I nevertheless hope this answered your very transparently targeted question, in the spirit of Christmas. Otherwise, it would have landed in the bin, where it probably belongs.

PS: Caitriona is Caitriona, probably nothing like Claire, indeed and thank God! Being 'like Claire Fraser' was certainly not what prompted the coup de foudre - I daresay, quite the contrary. Sorry, darling, to pop your bubble, but this is not exactly how the real world works.

Later edit: if the entire Everest trek was something 'just for himself', then the recorded video was also 'just for himself'. The reason he posted it on Instagram was to probably childishly rejoice/brag he finally made it and damn the consequences. Use a bit of logic.

[causeimcrayzeebee]

Wolfgang Akire through the lens of the law: an analysis

i would like to give a disclaimer that while im very interested in the law, im not a lawyer or in law school. my knowledge comes from the few law classes i have taken, participation in a couple mock trials, and some personal research, so please take this with a grain of salt! if im missing something or saying something inaccurate, please let me know! i am always open to learning more!! not to mention this is my understanding of law in the United States, so this may differ by country.

in the end, this isn’t meant to be too serious, just using the knowledge i do have and applying it to p:eg!!!

okay now spoilers for the prologue and all of chapter 1!

well ig before we get into it let me say rest in peace a king... I will miss you, you hypocritical bastard........

alright, so firstly, let’s consider Wolfgang’s character profile.

two things stand out to me here. the first is how he has “successfully defended over 200 of his clients without dropping a single case.” we can infer that Wolfgang is a criminal defense attorney. it’s possible he could be a lawyer in the civil law sector instead, but considering his strong feelings about murder and crime, and the fact that this is Danganronpa, it leads me to believe he is a criminal attorney for the sake of relevance (I don't think any of us would care if he were a corporate attorney after all).

now, that sentence you just read is particularly interesting in the case of Wolfgang Akire. From the prologue's mock trial, we can see that Wolfgang feels very passionately about murder, condemning the murderer even without insight as to why they committed the crime, instead big on retribution and justice (which the definition of could definitely be debated). Yet, as a defense lawyer, Wolfgang would have been defending people from criminal accusations, from anything to armed robbery, arson, or murder. we’re not particularly sure on his view of other crime, but we can assume he also has a similarly negative view of it that he has of murder. out of 200 people (within such a short time span of finishing law school too), what are the odds that out of all 200, not one of them was actually guilty? of course, lawyers have the ability to drop or not take on cases, but as his profile says, he hasn’t dropped a single case! it’s quite possible he had complete faith that every client was innocent, but with the evidence and files he’d have to go through, he had to have seen something that was damning and prepared accordingly to address in the most sympathetic way possible to avoid prosecution winning their case. and that's the thing with Wolfgang; his job requires building sympathy for the accused, and it requires sowing seeds of doubt in prosecution's case. there had to have been someone that he was defending from an accurate charge(s). so whether he knew it or not, he has very likely defended people guilty of crime; and yet, he still feels very adamantly against them.

Here's where I fall short on my analysis; I honestly do not know what to make of this conclusion. his behavior and his ideals are almost contradictory in a sense. is this insight to wolfgang's clear hypocrisy? but what does that really say about him? I'd love to know what any of y'all think in regards to this :0

Now, the second thing that stands out to me is that he wants to make sure that everyone is fairly represented and make sure logic and evidence drive the discussion. While this does seem to be true, the mock trial shows that he lets his feelings become a big part of the discussion as well. everything he does screams prosecutor to me, so it was shocking to find out he works as defense. Wolfgang has a very interesting way of viewing things, almost dichotomous, unlike what his profile says. it's similar to the format of a trial, where it's not meant to be a team working together to find the complexities and nuance within a certain issue, but rather an attempt to prove your point and disprove the other side. trials aren't supposed to be a discussion where everyone reaches the truth together (Danganronpa trials are not very accurate but of course I don't think they were intended to be in the first place), they are for you to win your case-- as a defense attorney, its poking as many holes into the prosecution’s case as possible. (little fun side note, this is very similar to how debate works; Wolfgang and Damon are a lot more alike than one would originally think.)

Considering all of this, it makes me wonder if Wolfgang was intentionally trying to split the group apart,,,, because it's easier. because it makes more sense. as defense, lawyers may pin the crime on another, but without the burden of proof that prosecution does, they can sling out accusations to increase doubt on prosecutions case without having to actually prove it (that would be left for a separate case). it's easier to divide a group and have a bunch of people follow you while isolating the 'other side', and with that division made, it's more likely someone you isolated will be the 'villian' anyways; and in this case, this was true-- Eva, who has been socially ostracized her whole life, was driven to murder to protect herself from the blinding fear that everyone was out for her (even if that wasn't entirely true). this could be just how Wolfgang has gotten used to going through his life. maybe the bad habits he picked up from his father were the divisive kind of us vs them mindset lawyers have to have in a courtroom.

speaking of his father, let's address the motive-- there's so many things that Wolfgang's blackmail could be about; faking his law degree, not taking the bar exam, defending horrible people, the list goes on. Honestly, a scenario i have considered is that it's about him defending his father for a crime he actually did commit, yet winning the case; or his father commuting a crime in general and winning his case, leaving Wolfgang conflicted as that is the sort of thing he does all the time, yet his father had just taken away his mothers life and gotten free (this is very much just me guessing a possibility though). when Wolfgang was hallucinating, he says he's not like them (to diana who he thinks is someone else) and he'll never be like them; It's most likely that he saw his father. the theory I'm going with right now is that his father was at the very least heavily involved in the likely murder of his mother (thus bring her back in reference to his mom). his father was probably also a lawyer and may have pushed wolfgang into going into the field himself, especially when he sent him to law school as a teenager. maybe Wolfgang wanted to live up to the expectations his father had of him. who knows exactly what Wolfgang wanted everyone to know him as, it was probably a long the lines of a competent lawyer. but, as of right now it's all speculation (objection! haha.... that was not funny my bad), so again, I'd love to hear some thoughts.

Another little funny thing i'd like to note is when Damon and Eva come back to the dinning hall and Wolfgang asks where they've been, Damon responds saying it was for discussing the motive. He's internally smug about how defeated Wolfgang seemed to be by that, and I thought that the funniest shit; very similar to being on cross examination, thinking you have the witness in your hands, when suddenly they wiggle out of your accusation. he's so real for that.

that is pretty much all i've got so far! let me know what y'all think and thanks for reading!!! :)

[grumpchump]

Adding the full yap because a few people asked for it !

(no fast pass spoilers, I'm not caught up yet anyway!)

I feel like this theme applies to almost every character in the main cast.

First of all, we all know that one of Chase's biggest aspirations is to be a famous singer, even though nobody in his life really thinks he can do it. He seems perfectly aware of this. He knows that everyone thinks his dream is impossible, and maybe part of him thinks the same thing, but he just doesn't care. He's still extremely determined to realize his goals despite what everyone thinks of him.

Buddy especially doesn't think very highly of him (at first!)- throughout a good portion of the season, he constantly assumes Chase is going to give up the stories as soon as they get hard. But as Chase says in Sick Day, it's not his style to give up. He is so much more than what a lot of people expect him to turn out to be and he's so cool and I love him so bad

This applies to Buddy pretty obviously too. He's meant to be a cold and ruthless villain, and he certainly does try to be that. He's tough and more than a little mean at times, but we can see pretty consistently that he isn't as heartless as he might want people (Chase) to think. Even from the beginning when he's determined to antagonize Chase and get his key, he drops hints and helps him to finish the stories.

I always thought the scene in the Cinderfella arc where he tells Chase that he can eat the storybook food was really interesting. Like, he has no incentive to do that. He has no reason not to sit by and watch Chase suffer wanting to eat the desserts. But instead he does this small act that is, whether intentionally or not, actually kinda nice of him. It's just another small moment that shows that the villain persona people expect of him isn't really all that he is.

(This is a smaller thing, but I think with his exterior and how he acts in the books, we kind of expect him to be cunning and hard-working. I believe Punko said in a Q&A that in his free time he's actually an extremely lazy person, contrary to how we usually see him. I'm just mentioning that because I think it's funny and I love him a lot.)

Deacon is an extremely complex character with so many layers that I honestly am still grappling with, this guy's really cool.

A lot of his struggles are with the expectations placed on him. We know his whole life and career have been planned out for him by his parents. There's constantly a lot of pressure on him to work hard at this path that has been chosen for him, but in reality, he doesn't want any of it. My man just wants to read his shitty fantasy novels and chill with horses, give him a break !!

He's also constantly trying to defy his role as the helper key (specifically in Sick Day and The Book of Deacon). I think it's really interesting how he struggles to accept his role. Chase and Buddy don't actively try not to be the hero and the villain, they just naturally are more morally grey with it. Deacon, on the other hand, is almost a little desperate to go beyond being a helper and fall into another alignment, acting carelessly and causing trouble because of it. And the thing is, it makes perfect sense why he'd do it.

Books are very much a source of escapism for him. Actually getting to LIVE OUT the books is extremely exciting. Inside the books, he has a chance to escape his parents' expectations- being the helper, though, he just feels like he has a new set of expectations placed on him. Once he actually gets to be the hero in The Book of Deacon, he learns that this role is just as tough- again, he's trading one set of expectations for another. There's really no winning for this man lol. but im getting a little off topic here.

What Deacon needs is to reject the expectations his parents have placed on him and do what will make him truly happy. We can see how Buddy and Chase sort of naturally deviate from their expectations just through being themselves, but Deacon is still struggling in this process. Deacon is struggling to be himself in the way Buddy and Chase do.

There is still that level of acceptance he needs to have for his current situation though, specially in his helper role. He's still struggling to grasp all that being a helper means and how it's still just as important a role to take on as the hero or villain. He needs to find a way to balance his responsibilities and his happiness.

In Prunella's case, it's a bit harder to say- as of Friends and Family, we haven't gotten to spend as much time with her as the boys, so we're still learning more about her. I think the irony of this little girl getting to play the role of the big strong hero is sort of a subversion of expectations in itself lol.

We've also seen her upbringing. We've seen her mom. We've seen her house. It's a big awesome fairytale mess, and she doesn't really fit into it at all- being more into wilderness survival, she's not really what most people would assume her to be when they see her home life. Nothing wrong with that of course, just worth mentioning. We also learn in Friends and Family that she's very advanced for her age- she's extremely smart and probably a lot more understanding and level-headed about all the key business than I think a lot of other kids would be. I'd say she deviates from what a lot of people would expect of a child her age.

I'd love to hear if anyone has any other thoughts about her character !! I like her a lot and I'm excited to get to know more of her in the story :)

I wanna touch on the Keys last, specifically Silver. This part will be more speculation, so take it with a grain of salt.

In line with the theory about Silver possibly betraying Chase, this theme would apply perfectly. The way we've gotten to know Silver, she's extremely sweet and caring. She acts very selflessly for her family and friends and is eager to lend Chase a helping hand in saving his mom.

What we need to remember is that her first priority is to take care of her family. Helping Chase with his thing is definitely a means to reunite everyone (since he'll need all 12 keys to make his wish anyway), but it may not feel like she's doing enough. Helping her family and taking care of the Keys is her ultimate goal. If she's the heroine of her story, it makes perfect sense that she would take whatever actions necessary to do this.

The problem is, Cinderella Boy follows CHASE as the protagonist. We're rooting for Chase to evade Ex Libris, collect the keys, and save his mom. From this perspective, Silver betraying Chase, going behind his back, etc. would technically be an antagonistic action.

Am I saying that makes her a villainess? No, I really don't think so. But we've come to know Silver as a kind, supporting force for Chase. All I'm saying is, if she really were going behind Chase's back in some way (referring specifically to the letter she writes to Violet at the end of Friends and Family), it would absolutely subvert ours and Chase's expectations of her. It would line up with the theme of defying these expectations.

This theme is another of the many reasons why the Beach Boys arc is so important.

Circling back to Chase and Buddy, the core relationship at the center of the story- up until this point, Chase and Buddy have not cooperated with each other. Just a few episodes ago was the Toffee Break arc, where Buddy was an absolute menace and Chase straight got him thrown off a boat, lol.

But then Chase sees Buddy struggling to light a fire, and he does something unexpected. Even though he and Buddy have spent pretty much every moment together as rivals, he offers Buddy a tip on how to start the fire. He completely subverts what we've come to expect of their relationship. And then Buddy does something even more unexpected by returning the gesture and sharing his fish.

They're meant to be the hero and the villain- complete antagonists to one another. But in this moment they both choose to defy their expected roles and share a small, nice moment.

Later, Chase offers to help Buddy get out of the dangerous situation he's living in, and Buddy assumes he's lying. He doesn't expect Chase to be genuine about it. But like he says in Beach Boys (VI), Chase gets mad at him for doing the same thing, and he realizes he's been wrong about Chase maybe the whole time. Chase is not at all like Buddy expected him to be.

I think the point Chase makes in this episode about their roles as the hero and the villain is extremely important to the story as a whole. Buddy is meant to be the villain, so he's supposed to be a horrible person. Chase is meant to be the hero, so he's supposed to be patient and forgiving. But Chase says it himself- he doesn't care about that. He isn't the perfect protagonist we might expect him to be. He's an extremely kind and good person, yes, but he also has no trouble standing his ground and acting the way HE wants to, despite what everyone thinks of him. And Buddy, while harsh and standoffish, has plenty of moments that showcase how he's actually quite a caring person when he starts to let down his guard around someone.

Hell, even the entire concept of Cinderella Boy as a whole is kind of a subversion of expectations in itself!!!! A boy finds a magical artifact that lets him enter and play out any story he uses it on, but, ironically, he always has to be the princess?? it's amazing i love it

Cinderella Boy shows us consistently that nobody is stuck playing the role everyone expects them to. Nobody is bound to the perceptions that other people have of them, and everyone is free to defy these expectations and be the person they want to be. Chase says it best in Beach Boys (IV): "Nobody should have to accept being the villain if they're trying their best not to be."

To rap up my yap session, Cinderella Boy is a narrative about defying expectations and other people's perceptions of you and being a person of your choosing and everyone should go reread it one billion more times !!!!!!

shout-out to Cinderella Boy and its ongoing theme of defying the expectations everyone has for you and being more than your roots and upbringing, gotta be one of my favorite genders fr

[losver07]

i was thinking of the marauders (unexpected i know) & thought "wow peter is sooo boy scout coded" & then realised THEY ALL ARE like hear me out on this

peter: the "noooo i dont wanna wake uuup i dont care if its raininnnng lemme sleeeep", incredibly good with maps ("oh i know this place like the palm of my hand" tho they are in the middle of nowhere), "guys i brought macadamia nuts for snacks :)" (he's the only one who likes them), entered the group later than the others but is very committed

remus: cares a lot about the environment ("EH DO YOU KNOW WHAT A BLOODY TRASH BIN IS?"), "are you gonna eat that? thanks mate", obsessed with wood carving & knives for some reason, always injured but always keeps going ("i am as capable as anyone" but he's trying to hike a mountain with a sprained ankle), starts talking about botanics as if it were band names ("ooooh i fucking love camomile!"), grumpy because "i still don't get why they won't let me have my fucking morning coffee" but also the kind to stop & take breath while very philosophically saying "guys look at the view", crazy about morse code & trail markings

sirius: acts like he doesn't care but shows up early to every reunion, "can i organise this? i love telling children what to do" (kids absolutely love him), sneaks in his phone & cigarettes to camp because if he doesn't smoke he can't sleep (remus smokes with him), is incredibly good at tying knots, has creative ideas and writes the most deep & heartbreaking things but never shares with the rest of the group, his scarf/necker is full of pins & likes to make bracelets with threads or grass, cares a lot about social issues and i mean A LOT

james: has a heart of gold, helps people on the street out of spite ("we're still scouts even when we're not at camp"), "okay guys we HAVE to win this, we are going to be THE BEST TEAM to play capture the flag EVER" (he's mad about capture the flag i am very serious about this), takes a picture with every animal he sees, "wdym it's cold? it's 50°, that's like, a lot", also loves walking & hiking, & always offers to help cooking or organising activities, always the first to start singing while they're walking & then everyone else joins in