#and when he is reminded that he used to be capable of them and STILL IS!!!!!!!!

[daffodil--lament]

look i figured out how to put this post underwater

my personal opinions and interpretations of a piece of literature are incoming. this is me nitpicking but: by the end of the first ghost scrooge is already ashamed of himself and looking toward change and when the third ghost comes he assumes that theyre looking upon a future in which he has changed so he's terrified and devastated when he sees the reactions to his death because he doesn't know if the scrooge they know in a year's time is one who has changed, or one who has changed enough.

like yes i do think that seeing his own miserable lonely celebrated death is vital to the man he becomes on christmas morning BUT. it's not just that. scrooge's fatal flaw isn't just greed, it's isolation and indifference. seeing that there is tenderness and love in this world not far from him is as important as watching his own kin disregard him as lost and loathsome.

that's why, in my mind, seeing how loved tiny tim is, understanding the love and faith and perseverance of the Cratchits as well as his own hand in continuing their poverty and illness, and being struck with the abject tragedy of tim's (really quite preventable) death changes him as much as the businessmen's jokes about him do.

i think what the point one might make here comes down to the fact that it isnt until scrooge is confronted by the reality of the suffering he is enabling that he understands how badly he needs to make a change. he knew Bob Cratchit is poor, I'm sure, but he was able to ignore that fact until the spirits show him the Cratchits' home and their malnourished children. Healthcare CEOS see that every day, they arent ignorant. healthcare companies actively fight to keep people in poverty and sickness. so maybe they're way more evil than Scrooge, who's to say

[ourceliumnetwork]

the list of traumas i need to unpack still and my coping mechanisms (or, more frequently, lack-thereof) keeps getting longer and i'm not sure i like that. I think i like less how much i already know they're hangups before they become a problem i have to actively work on, too.

[fierce-little-miana]

Spoilers for 28 years later

Something I really was not expecting from 28 years later was the commentary on zombies and how we have come to perceive them (culturally speaking) as completely deshumanized bodies that we can kill gleefully.

28 years later is constantly reminding you that its zombies are infected people, not mythical creatures completly removed from us. That doesn't make them less dangerous, or killing them in self defense (or even mercy-killing them) wrong. But it does give a sinister spin on the "zombies killer" warrior figure that a lot of zombie media come to present as a given.

The movie does that through two main narative devices. Humanizing the infected and deconstructing the ideology behind the zombies killer figure.

It humanizes the infected notably by:

Introducing the Alphas. They are an extra threats sure, but they are also capable of reasons.

The entire plot with the pregnant infected woman.

The fact the everyone in Great-Britain is treated the same by the outisde world, infected or not.

Isla's disease. Isla is sick from a mystery illness that impairs her mental capacities. Isla is not infected, but she is often confused and sometimes even physically lashes out in way that are violent (when she wakes up and break everything on her nightstand, in the same scene she also turns against Jamie). I don't think it is a coincidence that Isla is the only character in the entire movie that kills an infected with her bare hands, and then has trouble remembering it. It is also not a coincidence that she is the first one showing compassion on screen to an infected.

The fact that Dr Kelson treats infected and non-infected in the exact same way in death and does not immediately turns to killing the infected to defend himself from them.

It deconstructs the figure of the zombie killer by:

Having Jamie being a troubling figure and an even more troubling father figure. He insists on taking his son on his first killing trip three years before it is common to do so (something the movie points out explicitly twice). He says he likes the smell of rotting carcasses. He lies to make his son appear more heroic (I am not saying that Spike was cowardly or anything, but still Jamie does embelish how this first hunt went).

The community that sanctions this kind of attitude is very much coded as conservative in an uncomfortable way. It is for example, routinely visually compared with English history (through the display of medieval battles and images of the boers war). However everytime it is compared to the medieval era (the mythical chivalric) the images shown are very clearly extracted from movies and artistic depictions rather than rigourous reconstruction. The only real images shown are from most recent colonial wars in which England commited war crimes.

It is nice to see a zombie film not taking the zombies as acceptable killable meatsack as a given.

[quarterlifekitty]

How they’re getting you back

Aka what they’re like as exes that just can’t get over you.

cw: unhealthy relationships, manipulative behavior

Gaz is the guy your parents just won’t stop bringing up. Why’d you break up with him? He’s so kind, and so handsome, and he’s got a steady job— so what if he was a little jealous? He keeps hanging out with your family even after you break up. Like pull up to thanksgiving and he’s there because your mom invited him! And he’s betting you’ll give into the pressure soon and just take him back. They want grandkids, babe, why keep them waiting?

Soap loved forcing himself into your personal space when you were together, and that hasn’t stopped. He knows all of your usual haunts, and he’s using that knowledge to stay close. Your favorite coffee shop, your favorite pub, where you like to stop on your lunch break. It’s just such a big coincidence that you keep running into each other! Great minds, right, bonnie? Oh, he forgot you asked him to stop calling you that. How can he help it? You’re still just as pretty as you were when you were together. And weren’t those good times, hen? Why’d they have to end?

Ghost is leaving you scary fucking voicemails. Telling you that you’re never really gonna be rid of him, so you may as well just take him back, yeah? And yeah, you can hear the slick sound of him jerking his cock in the background, what about it? You know you’ll never get it as good as he gave it to you, birdie. Just answer the door next time he comes knocking, and he’ll remind you of how good you were together. And if you won’t be mature about this, he has his ways of getting in.

Price is this looming presence that you can’t shake. Flowers at your door, unsigned, but you know. Bills paid before you get the chance to pay them yourself. He was the perfect man when you broke it off— you said no contact, he complied. You moved out, he helped you box it all up and drove you to your new place without any complaints. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. The truth was, he was calm when you told him it was over because he knew he just needed to put in the work, and things would be better than they were before.

König is perhaps handling it the worst. Like, this man is buying love spells off of Etsy witches to bring you back together. The gifts he sends are extravagant and pathetic. It might be a little more sweet and sad if he wasn’t huge and capable of killing you with his bare hands. It gets to the point where your friends feel badly— maybe you should just give him another chance?

Nikolai is, more than anyone else, completely sabotaging your efforts at finding someone new. Threatening any potential dates, bribing some, making others disappear. All with a knowing smile as he sits at a table on the other side of the restaurant, enjoying the nasty look you send his way when you’re stood up again. He wouldn’t keep doing this if you’d just go after a man who deserved you. A man who wasn’t so pathetically easy to drive off. But there’s only one man so crazy about you that nothing would get in his way when it comes to seeing you again, isn’t there? This could be easy if you’d come back. But he’s happy to keep playing games for as long as you like, malýshka.

[gukcnt]

01 | BOUND BY VOWS ⭒ JJK

your world crumbles when you're forced into a marriage with jeon jungkook, a man whose commanding presence terrifies you, reminding you of your father's cruelty. Yet beneath his coldness, jungkook’s unexpected kindness stirs a spark of hope, making you question everything you fear. Your life together starts—an emotional journey of two hearts seeking comfort, healing and a chance at love

pairing — dom!jungkook x sub!femreader

genre — arranged marriage au, forced marriage, marriage of convenience, age gap, reader is of age, forbidden love, forced proximity, enemies to friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, rich ceo!jungkook, shy!reader, virgin!reader, poor!reader, obsession and possessive love, pining, slow burn, contrast of worlds, romance, drama, lots of angst, smut, fluff

warnings/tags — 18+, childhood trauma, emotional abuse, power dynamics, mentions of domestic violence, grief and loss, several crying scenes, panic attack, mental health struggles, hunger, illness, manipulation from readers father, several mentions of trauma and fear, isolation, betrayal and sacrifice

wc — 6.8k

a/n — this series was highly anticipated by many of you lovies, so i hope y'all enjoy it! this is just the first chapter—there's so much more to unfold hehe! <3

series m. list | main m. list

────୨ৎ────

jungkook sat in his usual leather chair.

The chair creaking under his powerful frame as he looked at the laptop on his desk.

A half empty pack of cigarettes beside it.

At the age of 36, jungkook has built his empire with hardship, blood and sweat.

His muscular body straining against the black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and his dark, rugged hair was tied in a loose man bun, a few strands escaping it.

Those strands highlighted his sharp features even more.

His dark eyes held an intensity that was capable of even shaking the bravest people to the core with just a single glance of his.

The smell of his usual expensive cologne and cigarettes filled the office, a masculine scent that was his only.

The silence broken by jungkook's fingers tapping on his phone, each text of his was a command for his employees to get their job done.

His brows were drawn together, always with displeasure because all his workers were aware of how hard it is to satisfy the ceo.

His scowl felt almost natural to him now.

“Get me the reports by tonight.”

He'd snapped earlier that day, having no mercy at all.

When he spoke, his voice roughened with a growl, something that has evolved from years of barking orders.

“no excuses.”

The line went dead as he didn’t bother to hear what the person had to say, his lips twitched—not in satisfaction but from the weakness he’d sensed.

He hates weakness.

His office was something he was used to, like a second home to him, but it was also a prison.

There was nothing personal here, no photographs or memories because there was nothing valuable in his life to get priority.

A reminder of how cold his world was and how hard he worked to keep the outside at bay in order to maintain the grip he had on his life.

His name was whispered in fear, holding no challenges against him.

But behind the untouchable man was a past—orphaned at six, he'd been left with no one.

The memories still visible even though he tried his best to forget them—being left alone in the streets, the behavior of his foster parents who saw him as nothing but a paycheck and people betraying him.

Each wound had hardened him.

Turned his heart into stone.

Love was for the fools

He long since stopped believing in it. It was a trap he'd never fall into and so is trust.

The world saw a monster and jungkook never denied it.

His employees moved quickly in his presence, their eyes averted, and his rivals could never win under his strategies.

Even his handpicked men kept their distance in respect and fear.

“He’s not human,” they’d murmur in private.

“One look and you’re done.”

jungkook knew the rumors and he relished in them.

Yet in his quiet moments when he would be alone in his room, something stirred in him.

It wasn’t regret—jungkook had no use for that—but it was an ache.

An emptiness no amount of wealth could fill

He'd never known a gentle touch or had someone in his life and sometimes he just felt.

Lonely…

He would crush the thought as soon as it arises, lighting a cigarette instead and the smoke would ground him in the present.

His phone buzzed, a message from the secretary about another marriage proposal.

The third time this week.

jungkook's lips curled into a sneer.

“Tell them to fuck off.” he rumbles.

He leans back against the chair, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling.

Marriage was a contract.

Nothing more.

He had no interest in binding himself to a stranger that was so obviously going after his wealth.

Outside the sky darkened with the threat of a storm, his eyes drifting to the window.

His reflection can be seen on the glass—a man alone, unbreakable.

But that same feeling flicker once again, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge.

He crushed his cigarette in the ashtray before returning to his work.

The only thing he enjoyed in a life that he built on control

The world could keep its love and its warmth along with its lies.

jeon jungkook needed none of it.

Or so he told himself because the void in his chest said otherwise.

۶ৎ

Your tiny apartment was heavy with resentment, every creak of the worn out floor was the proof of the life you were stuck in.

A life you couldn’t escape

The single rusted window in your room barely let any light in as you would sit and watch the world go on outside, so different than your despair.

At 21 you were a petite girl always wearing oversized clothes in order to hide your body, shielding yourself.

To cover your broken, delicate self

Anxiety always clung to you and your small hands, worn from hours of work, trembled when no one was watching, showing exactly how exhausted you were.

Your eyes held hopes and dreams that you never got the chance to voice but they were often filled with longing and sorrow from your life.

Your apartment was barely a place for survival, every piece of furniture seemed like it was close to breaking down.

Beside your bed on the table was a small piece of half eaten bread.

The only food you could afford today.

Your father was a constant threat in your life and his eyes held nothing but cruelty.

Always the smell of cheap liquors and cigarette smoke clung to the place because of him.

“Get up, you lazy thing.” he grunts.

The smell of his breath making you want to gag.

“You’re nothing and you think you’re different, huh? you’re just like her.”

The words barely brought out any emotions from you because they were repeated so often that you were used to it.

But every time his words left scars no one could see.

Your mother was your only anchor, the person who grounding you in this unbearable life of yours with love.

Her one smile was enough to light up your day.

Her hands warm and gentle as they tucked you into bed and in her presence you knew you could be anything you wanted.

“You’re my little girl.” she'd whisper.

“Don’t let this place, your father or any man tell you otherwise.”

But now she was barely alive in a hospital bed, her heart only beating with the help of machines, now even if you held her frail hand in yours, you could still sense the small bit of warmth.

That she was still there, she didn’t leave you

She was your reason to keep going.

The only person who'd ever seen you, truly seen you.

And her absence in your life was breaking you with each passing day.

Your father’s cruelty had shaped you in ways you couldn’t escape.

As a child you'd hide in the closet, your small body curled as you heard his fists meet your mother's body, hearing her muffled cries.

You'd press your hands to your ears, hoping to change the reality or stop it as tears streamed down your face, your heart pounding.

“Stop it, please.” you'd whisper to no one.

The memories were so vivid that even after so long they often came in your dreams—the smell of blood, broken things from your father's rage.

Those moments had transferred a deep fear into you, making you think that all men were the same heartless as your father.

That’s why you avoided them all the time, your introvert nature helping you.

At school, when boys tried to talk to you, their voices high with interest, you'd duck your head, cheeks burning and mumble excuses to flee.

Even friendships with men felt like a risk, their presence reminding you of the monster at home and the pain your mom endured for years.

Your job at the bookstore was your only escape, somewhere you could lose yourself in.

The shop was a cozy place full of books and you'd spent hours organizing shelves, placing the novels in their places.

Your coworkers, a small group of women who respected your quiet nature, were your only friends who never tried to pry further.

They'd tease you sometimes.

“You’re always scurrying away with a book, y/n.”

You'd smile slightly, but inside you felt trapped, wanting to scream.

You yearned for a life that wasn’t like this, where you had to tiptoe over everything so you wouldn’t mistakenly trigger your father’s anger.

And the only person who you loved was so close to death.

Your part time job barely covered your mother's medical bills and your father rarely gave any money for her.

You often lived with hunger, the growl in your stomach was something you'd learned to ignore and your father never paid you any attention to notice that.

Most of his money went for drinking or gambling but now that he needs to pay for your mother's expenses, his anger was always high.

Your energy was barely there, yet your dreams refused to die.

You still hoped to build a life where no one could cage you.

Always hoping.

The dreams you had were written in your notebook that you kept hidden—each paragraph a wish you had for everything that was a far cry from the reality you had.

The silence was broken one evening as your father came in, his face flushed with the drinks he had, your pen stopping at the notebook as soon as you saw him.

“What’s this nonsense?” he slurred

He snatched your notebook and a gasp left your lips, instantly reaching for it.

“Please give it back, dad.”

Your voice trembled.

He laughed, amused and tore a piece of paper.

Tears welled in your eyes.

“You think you’re some writer?”

“You’re nothing but a burden.” he spat.

Tossing the notebook to the floor, but you refused to cry—not in front of him.

You waited until he stumbled to his room, then gathered the torn pages, fingers shaking as you pressed them to your chest.

“I’ll make it out,” you breathe.

“For mom. For me.”

Your fear of marriage has grown larger with each passing year.

You'd seen your mother's life fade under your father's control.

The idea of binding yourself to a man and having the same fate as your mother often kept you up at night.

You'd lie in your small bed and stare at the cracked ceiling above, your mind imagining a faceless husband of yours whose hands were as cruel as your father's.

“I’ll never marry.”

You'd murmur the words like a mantra.

“I’ll never let anyone own me.”

But with your mother’s illness and the tight grip your father had on your life, it felt like the future wasn’t going to be yours any longer.

And you wondered how long you could hold onto your dreams.

Even though there was almost no light in your life, you refused to break completely.

Every day was a battle.

But you carried on.

Driven by the love for your mother and the stubborn hope that one day.

You'd find a way.

To be free.

۶ৎ

It was late at afternoon and you were in a diner. You sat alone at a small table by the window, fingers trembling as you unwrapped a burger.

The burger was a rare treat that you purchased from the last coins you'd saved after skipping breakfast and lunch.

Your hunger too much to ignore.

You were about to take a bite when your gaze drifted outside, noticing a movement on the pavement.

A puppy, small and tiny stood trembling beside a trashcan, its fur full of dirt, you could see his ribs from how skinny he was.

You froze, the forgotten burger as empathy crashed over you.

You'd always loved animals.

Their loyalty a big difference compared to humans in your life, but your father's rules never allowed you to own one.

Without hesitation you pushed through the door and walked to the pavement before kneeling in front of the puppy, ignoring the way the rough ground scraped your knees.

“Hello, sweet boy.” you coo.

You tore the burger into small pieces and the puppy stares at you hesitantly, his doe eyes glistening, but as you hold a piece in front of him, his nose twitches.

Then, without a warning he lunged forward and devoured the food in a way that was almost feral, making you giggle.

And you realized exactly how long it has been since you laughed.

The curve of your lips almost seemed foreign to you now.

Its tiny tongue lapped at the oil on your finger once he was done eating a piece, making you grin further.

Your heart warming as you stroked the puppys fur, petting him

Tears almost streamed down your face because in that moment the puppy was more than a stray—he was a moment of joy for you that you could still feel despite the weight of your life.

Your hunger was overshadowed by the puppy's grateful nuzzle, his wet nose pressing against your wrist.

“You’re not alone, okay? not today.”

You whispered, your words carrying meaning.

Across the street jungkook sat inside his expensive car, that was custom made by himself, eyes fixed on his phone screen, a frown in his brows.

He was immersed in emails of his work, the world outside irrelevant to him like always, until a flash of something caught his attention.

He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing as they landed on you kneeling on the dirty pavement.

You looked very fragile to him.

Your oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder revealing your skin and your face—was soft with lips parted in a tender smile, yet there was a sadness that he could see visibly.

jungkook's breath hitched, fingers tightening around his phone.

He watched, not blinking as you fed the puppy, your hands trembling not from the cold but from a hunger he could sense even from this distance.

Your movements were too slow like it was costing you to use up all your energy.

The sight of you giving away your meal—the only one of the day that he suspected—hit him.

“Foolish”

He mutters under his breath but the words felt like a lie.

There was something so human in your act, stirring a sensation in his chest that he hadn't felt in years.

A crack in the wall he'd built around his heart.

He saw the tears streaming down your cheeks and the way your lips trembled as you petted the puppy.

You were lonely.

Not the small loneliness of a moment but an isolation that he could relate to himself.

But he'd never admit it.

Your selflessness and your quiet strength—it unraveled him.

He didn’t understand why you matter, why this small glimpse of you seemed to shift something in him but he couldn’t look away.

His jaw clenches and he wanted to dismiss you to forget about this feeling under the pressure of his work.

But he can't, he can't just leave you in this state.

“Dammit.” he grunts.

He didn’t do this—didn’t care, didn’t let anyone in.

But you were different and that realization terrified him.

Before he could think otherwise, he was out of the car, the door slamming with a thud as he started walking towards the diner with intent.

He entered, and the room fell silent, his presence powerful enough to bring their attention to him.

The waiters froze mid step, the customers all quickly glancing away like they could sense the danger emitting from him.

His eyes scanned the room, landing on the counter where a waiter stood wide eyed and trembling.

"Get me the most expensive meal you have.”

jungkook ordered in his authoritative voice, leaving no space for argument.

“Everything—the best one you have. Now”

He slid a black credit card across the counter, the waiter fumbling to catch it.

“And give it to the girl outside.”

jungkook added, his gaze falling toward the window where you still knelt, unaware of what was happening.

The waiter nodded quickly.

“Y—yes sir, right away.”

jungkook didn’t wait any further, turning and walking back to his car.

He didn’t look back, didn’t dare to, but your image lingered—a small, sad girl who’d given him something he didn’t know he needed.

A glimpse of light in his endless dark life.

Inside the diner, you returned to your table, the puppy trailing behind, tail wagging.

You were about to leave, stomach still knotting with hunger and it was almost painful, but you'd manage.

That’s when the waiter approached.

His arms carried an entire feast that made your eyes widen.

Several grilled steaks, fries, salads and rice at the side, along with a tall glass of iced tea, were set before you.

The smell of such a rare meal made your head spin.

“I didn’t order this.” you said, shakily.

The waiter, still pale from jungkook's intensity, shook his head.

“Someone… someone paid for it.”

“For you, miss. They insisted”

Confusion filled you, but the scent of the food was too much to resist.

You ate slowly, each bite feeling like a luxury—you’ve never had such expensive, flavorful food in your life.

For the first time in weeks you felt sated, your hunger gone and the feeling was something you'd almost forgotten.

Tears welled again. not from sadness but from gratitude, though you had no one to thank.

You glanced outside, half expecting to see the mysterious person but the street was empty except for the puppy curled at the door.

You wrapped the leftovers in foil, you'd take them home for your father, a small gesture to please the man who made your life hell.

Because despite everything, you always treated him with respect, a kindness that maybe he didn’t deserve.

As you stepped outside, the puppy barked at you, rubbing himself on your leg and you smiled your heart feeling lighter.

“Stay safe, little one.”

You didn’t know who’d changed your day, didn’t know the man whose dark eyes had seen the hunger in your soul, but now you felt a small bit of happiness—and you’ll keep it tucked away.

Afraid it would break too soon.

۶ৎ

In jungkook's office papers lay in stacks on his desk as he tried focusing on them—until he couldn’t.

He leans back in his leather chair, calloused fingers gripping the armrest tightly, his veins visible.

He had too much pent up energy in him, a few strands of hair slipping out of his man bun, damp with sweat.

His tailored suit was open, revealing the white shirt beneath clinging to his muscled chest, showing the tension in his body.

His eyes were unfocused, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers for whatever chaos that was going through his mind.

You.

You were the chaos.

A girl he'd seen only for a few minutes, a fleeting figure, yet you'd gotten deep into his thoughts.

He could still see you—kneeling in the dirt, trembling hands offering food to a stray, eyes filled with sorrow.

He related too much with you and it was absurd.

Because someone so insignificant could distract him like that

He was jeon jungkook, who bent industries to his will but here he was undone for a stranger.

His jaw clenched, reaching for a cigarette to distract himself and the lighter flicked as he lit the cigarette.

His lips pressed into an angry line.

He inhaled the smoke deeply before exhaling.

“She’s nothing. Nobody”

He stood abruptly, the chair almost falling and paced to the window.

He wanted to protect you, possess you and shield you from the world.

He didn’t understand it—this pull.

It wasn’t lust, though your soft curves and innocent eyes had brought out something primal in him.

It was something deeper.

“Why you?” he breathes.

His breath fogging the glass, a vulnerability in him that he hadn’t shown in years.

He slammed his fist against the window, rattling it, the pain in his knuckles helped with the distraction.

He wasn’t a man who spent too much time on feelings.

He often forgot about them under the weight of his deals and deadlines.

He was filled with frustration and need.

He never let emotions control his actions.

Yet here he was pacing like a caged animal, control slipping.

Someone knocked at the door before it creaked open, his secretary stepping inside nervously.

“Sir, these came in today.”

Her voice trembling as she placed the items on his desk.

jungkook's gaze flicked at the files before his head snapped towards her, his glare enough to make her flinch.

“I told you.”

His tone dangerously low.

“No more of these fucking proposals. Do I need to fire you to explain myself?”

The secretary's face paled, her hands fidgeting.

“I—I thought this was work related sir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t check—”

“Out.” he barks, cutting her off.

She scurried away, shutting the door behind her, leaving him alone with the file.

He stared at it.

His chest heaving, he should’ve just torn it and thrown it into the garbage, but something stopped him.

A nagging feeling.

With a scowl, he snatched it up, ripping it open with annoyance.

A small photograph slipped out falling to the desk and he froze.

It was you.

Your face stared up at him, your eyes wide and lips parted slightly.

The photo was a bit blurry, clearly taken without your knowledge but it was unmistakably you.

His fingers hover over it hesitantly, finally grabbing it, your face sating a deep hunger in him that he didn’t know was there.

He sank back into his chair and stared at the photo, his cigarette forgotten as his heart raced.

“You.” he rasped, very close to awe.

He didn’t understand why this one image out of thousands of proposals mattered.

But it did.

It was as if the universe had somehow planned to bring you back to him, make you both cross paths again.

The letter accompanying the photo was written in a shaky hand and jungkook could understand the false sincerity just by looking at it.

It was from a man claiming to be your father, offering you—his daughter—as a bride.

“perfect match” he thought for jungkook

The audacity of it made his lips curl as he puts the effort into reading the letter that he would barely look at.

In any other circumstances he would have barked orders to his secretary to fire whoever let it through.

Marriage was a trap.

A contract he'd spent years dodging.

But this time his hand stilled, not tearing the letter, the photo held delicately.

He slipped the photo into his breast pocket with care, the action almost intimate, like he was tucking away his secret.

The paper pressed against his chest like a heartbeat he'd forgotten he had.

His fingers lingered there over the fabric as if he was protecting something precious.

He didn’t throw away the letter and didn’t yell for his secretary.

Instead, he sat in silence.

“Who are you?”

He whispers to the empty room, a longing present there.

“What are you doing to me?”

He didn’t believe in fate, love or in anything above his usual power and control, but you—you were like a mystery he needed to solve.

He closes his eyes, your image there as soon as he does.

And for the first time in years jungkook felt something close to hope—a feeling he both craved and feared.

That could either ruin him or burn him altogether.

۶ৎ

The cramped living room was suffocating, the walls were yellow from years of neglect and the couch squeaked under the weight of jungkook.

His hand rested on his knees, one hand holding a cigarette as his intense eyes roamed around the room, noting every detail.

The cracked photo frame and other broken furnitures, along with the bruise on your father's knuckles are proof of his temper.

And the air itself in the room sensed jungkook's dangerous presence.

Your father sat opposite him on a chair, a nervous energy in him, his face slick with sweat.

His eyes darting between jungkook and the floor.

In jungkook's presence he was no longer capable of showing his wrath, he was only a trembling mouse in front of jungkook.

His usual confidence that he used to control the women in this house had reduced to a shaky man wanting to please.

“Mr. Jeon”

He began, voice cracking.

“It’s an honor truly, to have you here.”

“My daughter y/n—she’s a good girl, quiet, obedient, perfect for a man… like you.”

The words seemed rehearsed.

jungkook's jaw tightened, this man with his yellowed teeth and coward eyes dared to think of you like a servant, a thing to be used for favor.

The audacity sparked an anger in him that was burning hotter with every word that came out of his filthy mouth.

jungkook's expression remained blank, remaining silent.

He enjoyed watching the pathetic man squirm under his gaze and how it was taking away his courage.

He leaned forward slightly, the couch squeaking again.

“Tell me about her.” he said, darkly.

The command was simple but to your father it held the need to satisfy, and he was already sweating his ass off from jungkook intensity.

How he looked like he could crack your father's skull open with just the use of one single hand.

“She’s… well, she’s always been a good daughter.” your father stammered.

“Works at a bookstore, mostly keeps to herself… never gets in trouble. M—Mr. Jeon.”

“Raised her to know her place.”

He forces a smile, revealing yellow teeth once again that soon disappeared under jungkook's glare.

“She’d make a good wife—someone who knows how to please.”

jungkook's eyes narrowed, the disgusting hitting him ever harder.

He hated this man—hated him from the moment he'd stepped inside this rotting house that smelled too much of cheap liquor.

The way your father talked about you was angering him too much and the need to hit him was increasing.

But he held back, clenching his fists, knuckles whitening.

He wonders how this man in front of him was even related to someone as soft as you.

He took a slow drag of his cigarette and tilted his head, studying your father.

“Is that so?” he hums.

Amusement and a rage in his voice that makes your father tremble further

“I’m not here for promises. I wanna see her.”

The demand caused your father's eyes to dart toward the hallway where you waited.

“y/n!” he barked, panic still present.

“Come in here now!”

The command made you freeze, heart thudding.

Your father had prepared you for this moment and you weren’t aware that all his words were a lie.

“One of my colleague is coming,” he’d said, leaving no space for further questions.

“Dress nicely, behave and don’t make me look bad, you hear me?”

The request caused goosebumps all over your skin—men, especially strangers in your home wasn’t something you were comfortable with, their presence always something you compared with your father.

But you couldn’t deny it, not when his temper could be on you or worse, affect your mother’s care.

So you'd nodded and spent the rest of the morning in dread, unaware of the true purpose of his visit.

You’d chosen a simple baby blue sundress with tiny white flower prints, and it wasn’t something you wore usually since it hugged your curves.

You often hid beneath oversized clothes.

But you didn’t want to piss your father off.

Your hair was down, hands trembling as you smoothed the dress and you had no idea of the man waiting in the living room.

The thought of facing him made your stomach knot.

Slowly you stepped into the doorway and the world seemed to stop because jungkook's presence alone dominated everything the room.

Power, wealth and danger—he was all in one.

But it was his eyes that stopped you—dark and intense, locking onto you in a way that made your knees weak, as if he could see the depths of your soul.

The sight of you—small, trembling—deepened his anger towards your father, his earlier words still echoing in his mind.

And the urge to protect you from your so called father was nearly overwhelming.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, he was unlike anyone you'd ever seen.

He was so… different in a good and bad way.

His gaze on you didn’t waver.

And you felt stripped bare, like every tremble of your body, every fear in your eyes was laid open for him

“y/n, this is Mr. jeon.” your father says.

You forced yourself to move your trembling legs as you stepped into the room.

You managed a small awkward bow, hair falling forward to cover your face.

“H—hello, sir.” you stutter.

You kept your eyes on the floor, anything to avoid his intense stare, your cheeks flushing pink.

jungkook's gaze on you was still there, almost like a physical touch, eyes tracing all over you—the way the dress clung to your body, the tremble in your small hands.

You were even more fragile than he'd thought, almost like a doll and the sight of you so vulnerable lit something fierce in his chest.

His cigarette burned between his fingers, stinging him but he didn’t flinch, too captivated by you to notice the pain.

Your shyness and refusal to meet his eyes turned him possessive in a way he didn’t know was possible and he wanted to claim you this instant.

Take you far away from this stinking man and this place because you deserved better.

You were like a puzzle to him and he wanted to understand to know why there was such deep sadness and fear in you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n.” he said.

His voice softer than he intended, a deep rumble.

The sound sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting before your mind could and you nodded, unable to form words.

Your father gestured to a chair and you went over before sitting down, hands still clasped tightly in your lap.

The room felt smaller with jungkook in it and there was too much heavy tension in the air.

The conversation followed between jungkook and your father, with jungkook barely responding because all his attention was on you.

“Always been a good girl.”

Your father forced a smile, eyes flicking to you.

“She keeps the house in order and is well behaved. She’ll make someone very happy one day.”

The words made your skin crawl, and you didn’t know why.

Unaware of what brought jungkook here.

jungkook's fingers tightened around his cigarette as he fought the urge to silence the man.

The repeated insistence on your “goodness” was further infuriating him, as if you were nothing but made to please others.

jungkook looked at you again.

“What do you do, y/n?” he asked, gently.

The question caught you off guard and you blinked, as you weren't used to someone being interested enough to ask such a question, especially about something you loved doing.

“I… I work at a bookstore.” you mumble.

Eyes still fixed on your hands

“It’s… nothing special.”

It felt like you were exposing yourself for judgement, but jungkook's expression didn’t change.

Instead, his eyes softened just a fraction.

“A bookstore,” he repeats.

“Do you like it?”

The question was simple as if he genuinely wanted to know you, not just the version your father was telling.

You nodded, throat tight.

“It’s quiet.”

“I like the books. They… they take me somewhere else.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them and the confession was a glimpse into the escape you wanted.

You regretted your words instantly, cheeks burning hotter.

jungkook's lips twitched, almost smiling but it was gone before you could be sure.

“Somewhere else.”

He says almost to himself.

He leans back and takes another drag of his cigarette as your father goes back to talking.

Your words, so innocent yet so revealing deepened jungkook's resolve. He saw the grip your father had around you and his disgust for the man grew into something more dangerous.

He didn’t know why he cared, but the need to free you, to burn this already broken house to the ground.

Was getting to him.

The encounter stretched on, each minute feeling like an eternity and the entire time you kept your eyes down, heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

jungkook's presence was too much and you wanted to flee from him.

But you were trapped.

When it was finally over, jungkook rose, his movements predatory.

He said nothing to your father, not even a goodbye.

His eyes flicks to you one last time, the look lingering like a promise or a threat, you weren’t sure.

He left without another word, footsteps fading.

You stood, legs still shaky and excused yourself before rushing back to your room.

Your heart raced and you were sweating.

You pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to get back, but jungkook's presence stayed with you.

His dark eyes, deep voice, the way he’d looked at you—like you were something precious.

You didn’t understand the feeling in your chest, the mix of fear and fascination.

But you knew one thing.

This man was something else.

And you were already caught in it.

jungkook meanwhile, stepped into the cool air, the photo of you still burning a hole in his pocket.

He lit another cigarette, mind racing.

He'd come here to confirm a suspicion, but he was leaving with a need and a hunger he was going wild for.

He saw you, and he wasn’t sure he could let you go now.

Ever.

He'd see you again and when he did, that pathetic man, your father, would learn what it means to cross him.

۶ৎ

You sat in your bed, hunched over, knees drawn to your chest, your hands clutching the notebook—your only escape from reality.

You were scribbling there and hidden under your pillow there was your mother’s scarf that smelled so much like her nurturing smell, you clinged to it when you missed her so much and couldn’t see her.

Your only source of comfort

The door suddenly slammed open with a force and your father was there, his eyes filled with a menacing satisfaction that made your stomach churn.

“Get up,” he growls.

“You’re getting married. In a week. To jeon jungkook”

The words felt like a slap in your face and you gasped as the pen slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor.

A wave of nausea hitting you, you almost didn’t believe his words.

“What?” you breathe.

You couldn’t hear yourself over how hard your heart was pounding.

“No… no, I never agreed to this. You can't—”

Your voice breaks into a sob, leaving you with panic as your shaking hands grip the bedsheets.

Your father's lip curled into a sneer.

“It’s done.” he snapped.

He steps closer.

“You’ll marry him, or I’ll stop paying for your mother’s treatment.”

A mocking, bitter grin on his lips.

“You want her blood on your hands?”

You flinched, broken cries leaving you.

Your father knew exactly where to strike, and that was your weakness: your mother.

The only person you would do anything for, even give your life for.

Your father knew that too well and he was taking all advantage of it.

“Please dad.” you beg.

Tears streaming down your face as you shook your head repeatedly.

“Don’t do this. I’ll do anything—work more hours, sell my things, anything—but this.”

Your hands reached out and you hoped for the mercy that he'd never shown you.

“I can’t marry him. H—he’s cold and older and I don’t even know him.”

“I don’t want this life. I have dreams, I have—”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you were basically having a panic attack, sobbing and begging.

Your words a mix of pleas.

Your father’s face didn’t show a single bit of emotion, only anger present and his hand twitched as if he might strike you, like several times he had done before when he didn’t get things done his way.

“Dreams?” he spat.

He steps closer, his drunk breath hitting you.

“You think your pathetic dreams matter? you're nothing y/n, just a burden I've carried too long. jungkook’s money will fix everything and you’ll do as I say.”

His voice drops lower as he points a finger at you.

“You marry him, or your precious mother is gone.”

You were getting dizzy, the room spinning, your sobs grew louder in a way that left you gasping for air.

You couldn't breathe.

Your hands clawing at the blanket as if it could tether you in a world where this wasn’t happening.

“You can’t force me.” you cried, desperate.

“I won’t do it! I’ll run away.”

You started rocking back and forth as you gripped the scarf, clutching it to your chest like a lifeline—anything to keep you from losing your mind.

It was all you had left of her.

He laughed darkly, no pity, just amusement.

“Run? where to huh? you’ve got nothing, no one. You think you can survive without me? without my money keeping you and your mother alive?”

He gets closer to your face and you back away, whimpering.

“This is your place, y/n. You live off my money and now you'll belong to jungkook. Its final.”

He stood as he turned to leave, slamming the door shut behind him loudly.

You were alone again.

The silence was loud, only your broken cries could be heard, arms wrapping around your knees as you rocked once again.

The tears wouldn’t stop.

You hated your father and hated the life that had trapped you.

You especially hated jungkook, the man you barely knew and he was nothing but a monster who'd own you.

By forcefully marrying you.

You searched him up once he left and you'd seen several rumors—his ruthlessness, power and wealth.

All of it sums up into a man who'd cage you and break you just as your father had broken your mother.

Your greatest fear was gonna occur before you, all of your nightmares coming true.

But this time you couldn’t escape it.

A marriage to a man who'll turn your life worse than what it already was.

You thought of your mother and how she was barely hanging on with all the machines.

She adored you so much, always dreaming of a life for you that would be filled with happiness and love that she'd been denied.

The thought of her dying, of losing the only person who'd ever truly cared for you, made your chest hurt physically.

You couldn’t let her go, couldn’t bear the guilt of her death from a decision of yours.

So with a numbness, you made the choice that felt like betraying your own self.

You'd marry jungkook.

You'd sacrifice your dreams and freedom in order to keep her alive.

The thought was suffocating you and you pressed your nose into her scarf as if it would bring her back, help you out of this nightmare and fight your father for you.

Because she always did.

And now she wasn't here to do it anymore.

Your life will be destroyed right in front of your eyes.

And you could do nothing but watch.

The night stretched on like that as you lay there, your eyes ran out of tears, only leaving faint tear stains behind.

You didn’t sleep, couldn’t sleep.

Each day from today will be a step closer for the new cage that awaited you.

jungkook's face haunted you now, a man you'll be forced to obey.

You didn’t know him but you knew enough to fear him and the coldness that seemed to emit from his very being.

The notebook lay open beside you, its pages filled with short stories you’ve written from your imaginations about heroines who fought and won.

Who found love in a world that didn’t hurt them.

But you weren’t a heroine in a story.

You were always a small, miserable girl trapped in a story.

With no happy ending.

────

taglist: @wintaemoonjen @minewlove @chaelvrx @nanisblogg @slutology00 @kelsyx33 @furioustrashlover @jjeonjjk7 @kooever @svnbangtansworld @xcviis @asyr97 @ttanniett @bratzdaull @yunhoswrldddd @jeonzll @endlesslysassy @elmarimochi9513 @fangirl-coco-goddess @lisax-30 @moodytangerine @taetaecatboy @katwiththatrat @yikes-ukiyo @minimoninini @lachimolalajeon @flutterguk @snuglymalicioussea @nellbyy @l4yl44 @captainengineer-trixie @cristy-101 @universallywizardkoala @kookxin @mageprincess7 @satisfied18 @existentialzaddy @strawberryberrygirl @tranquilreign @honeybearmin @melooooosusupp @thvflowr @jimineepaboya @granataepfelchen @cherricherryy @tatamicc @minghaosimp @kooko009 @clrwonuu @withmuchluv-tannie

[woantohae]

In my arms || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

content warnings: angst, he fell first and he fell harder, "avengers" tower, fluff, thunderbolts being a family, violence, curse words, SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Yelena and Bob being like brother and sister, "touch her and you die" trope.

Author's note: I WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS*!!!! And let me tell you, it was better than i imagined. Honestly, it became one of my favorites and it can easily be in my top 3 of Marvel movies. I just can't describe the experience with enough words, but the waiting was totally worth it ✨️ AND THE POST CREDIT SCENE 👀 MARVEL ATE WITH THAT ONE.

With that being said, i'm excited to tell you that i'm gonna write more of Bob Reynolds 👉🏻👈🏻 So here you go, a one shot with him, wich contains a few spoilers of the movie. At this point our reader will be polaris lol.

Hope you like it and comment what do you think of this one 💌

Bob was getting used to the place.

What had once been Avengers Tower had now become his new "home." He had an incredible view of New York City, several rooms to hang out in, thousands of dishes and meals he'd never been able to prepare in his life, and the pleasant company he shared every day.

The team had made him feel comfortable and part of something worthwhile, despite what they'd gone through to get to this moment.

Bob still felt guilty about what happened when Void took control of him and darkened everything in its path, even when Yelena reminded him it wasn't his fault and that he wasn't alone. The blonde had become a trusted person for him and was always there when he needed her. He told her his secrets and how he felt, and the Russian always gave him advice or a word of encouragement. Even with the trust he had in her, he confided in her something he never thought would happen to him. Or rather, something he thought was impossible to happen in such a short time.

He was attracted to Y/N.

The girl whom his other self had caused to see horrible things from her past, the one who could move metal objects with a simple flick of her fingers, and the one who made his heart race and his cheeks blush. It was a feeling that consumed him every time he was near her or even thought about her.

And Yelena, being the good spy she was and good at reading people, knew how Bob felt about Y/N. She always encouraged him to get closer and talk to her more, but Bob simply couldn't do it. It was not that easy.

"It sounds easy," John says, after hearing the plan for carrying out the mission.

Bob shakes his head to return to reality and ignore such thoughts.

"Wait until we get there and they welcome us with open arms," ​​Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We still made it last time, and look at us here," Y/N replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Ava laughs and shakes her head.

"We'd better get moving," she says.

Bob looks at the group with hope in his eyes, but feels unsure about what he's gonna say.

"Can I come with you, guys?" he asks.

All heads turn to look at him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy for his question. They know he wants to help however he can, but after Void was under control and hadn't appeared for quite some time, they weren't so sure it was a good idea to expose him like that again.

"Bob..." Yelena begins to say.

Bob hurries to explain himself.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I think I'm ready, I know I can control it" Bob says with determination in his voice "I've been practicing and trying to talk to him, so maybe I can do it, today"

"We know, Bobby," says John, "But we must complete the mission without any mistakes or problems along the way."

The brunette looks down and clears his throat, nodding. He raises his gaze to smile and meet Y/N's gaze, who smiles back.

"No, no, I understand," he says dejectedly. "When the time is right, I can come with you."

Bucky pats his shoulder and Alexei gives him a thumbs-up. Despite their attempt to lift his spirits, he can't help but feel useless and without any reason to be in the group, other than washing dishes, tidying the place, or reading books he finds lying around.

He hates the feeling.

But it is what it is, right now. And he has to face it.

After the meeting to organize the plan, the group dispersed to look for the weapons and prepare the car in which they would go to the location. Bob watched from afar as the rest of them prepared, while playing with his fingers. He shifted his gaze to the large window overlooking the city and didn't feel Y/N's presence approaching him.

"Hey," she said in a soft tone.

Bob turned his head to look at her and smiled delightedly.

"Hey," she asked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nods and laughs softly, pretending to be okay and swallowing the feeling that bothered him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine"

The girl mimics his smile and stares at him, while Bob feels the heat spread to his cheeks.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie when I get back?" she offers, patting his arm to get his attention.

Bob smiles.

"I was actually thinking it could be a movie night with just us. If you like that idea," Y/N says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders with a smile on her face.

"A movie would be nice. I think it would be fun to have a movie night with the rest of the team," he says awkwardly "We haven't had one of those in a while, so..."

She lets out a soft laugh, thinking how cute he looks all flustered.

"Oh..." he remains silent to calm his nerves until he speaks again so as not to make a fool of himself. "Oh! Yeah, just the two of us. Of course. It could be fun. Count me in!"

Y/N smiles and laughs softly, wich sounds angelical to Bob's ears.

"Great. It's a date" she says.

Bucky calls her to let her know they're about to leave, so she starts walking away from Bob.

"See you, Bob."

"See you. Good luck," Bob says with a dazed smile on his face, remembering the girl's words.

It's a date.

Bob walks to his room with an excited smile, feeling happiness in his chest, but when he remembers the last thing Y/N said, his eyes widen.

"Oh shit! It is a date!"

He needs to prepare for it.

----------

Bob listened and watched from the communications room to see how the team was doing on the mission.

It wasn't going so easy as they planed back in the tower a few hours ago, as they had run into a group of mercenaries who weren't going to give up so easily. The brunette just hoped everyone was okay and managed to complete the mission—and he really hoped Y/N was okay and didn't get hurt.

A feeling of anguish and anxiety was causing Bob's chest to tighten. His leg kept moving as he played with the Rubik's Cube in his hands, unable to complete a color.

The sound of bullets filled his ears, and his jaw clenched as he heard and saw Yelena or Bucky being hit. Alexei grumbled as he tried to pull a man off John to help him, and Ava took care of a few. Y/N tried to stop the bullets as best she could, but there were some hidden snipers she couldn't sense with her powers so easily.

"There's to many of them!" John complains through the earpiece in Bob's ear.

"Fuck! If we don't stop the ones from the roof we cannot go back to the car!" Ava exclaims in an almost exhaustive voice.

"Shit. C'mon guys" Bob whispers while frowning his eyebrows at the scene.

"Bob, can you see how many are on the roof?" Yelena asks from the communicator in her ear.

"Uh, yeah, yeah" he says inmediatly "There's five on the roof. Three of them has guns and two of them are programming something on the computer. Seems like.... oh no"

"What Bob?" Bucky asks.

"It's a bomb! You need to get out of there" Bob says quickly.

"Shit," Yelena curses.

"I can try to stop them. But I need you to cover my back," Y/N says in a confident, hurried tone.

Bob watches as the girl begins to head toward the other side to attack the group of men with guns at the entrance. The others try to stop anyone from attacking her, and she moves stealthily between the bodies to reach the entrance. Bob focuses his attention on the cameras in the building that shows Y/N, his heart aching at what's happening in the footage. Or what could happen.

"Please, be careful," Bob whispers.

Y/N stops the guards' bullets at the entrance with precision in her movements and attacks some who plan to hit her. Bob's eyes glance at the rest of the team as they manage to escape thanks to the distraction caused by the girl with green sparkles flashing from her fingers. However, he doesn't stop for more than five seconds just to check on the girl again. He wants to make sure she's okay, even if it's from behind the computer. Far away from the place where she is right now —just the thought of it makes his inner self freak out.

Something it's beginning to awake inside of him. Something he thought he had buried for his own good.

Or rather someone.

"Y/N, all done. Let's head to the car. I'll try to get to you right away," Bucky orders.

"No. It's okay, I got this," she chimes in stubbornly.

Bob shakes his head.

But before she can do so, a stray bullet hits her shoulder, destabilizing the girl.

"Fuck!" she complains, touching her shoulder.

"Y/N?" Bucky asks worriedly.

"Y/N!" Bob yells, watching as one of the guards hits her with her gun on the back of her head, causing the girl to fall unconscious to the ground.

That's it.

Bob rushes out of the tower's communications room and runs to the balcony, where he takes to the air with determination. He doesn't stop for a second, because time is precious, especially after seeing Y/N getting attacked. The only thing that keeps repeating in his mind is the visual image of the girl being injured, so he moves quickly through the air until he reaches the others. He had seen the coordinates and the area where they were, so it was easy for him to arrive in time.

Bob tries to find the place that the camera allowed him to watched the area in wich the girl was back at the tower, and when he finds it, he is surprised to find that one of the men responsible of attacking Y/N is carrying her unconscious body in his arms. Fury courses through his veins at the sight, and he rushes to stop the bastard. It's as if he's being consumed by darkness, a sensation he knows all too well.

As soon as he's in front of the guy, he stops him and without a second thought, tries to attack him, careful not to hit Y/N. The man looks at him in horror and carefully places the girl's body on the ground, then raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he stumbles, but all Bob sees is red.

He growls and begins to mercilessly beat the man's body, making him bleed, and doesn't stop until he's unconscious. Blow after blow, unleashing all the anger he felt at seeing how the bastard hurt the girl. He can still see her grimace of pain and how her body fell unconscious to the ground, helpless, and who knows what they might have done to her if he hadn't arrived in time.

"Please...." the man begs almost unconscious.

Bob doesn't hear him. He doesn't want to.

And Void doesn't want to too.

The rest of the team arrives at Y/N's location, only to see her lying on the ground with a scarlet stain forming on the shoulder of her suit, while Bob kills the man. Ava approaches the girl's body and makes sure she has a steady pulse, while John makes sure that no one appears and attacks them by surprise.

"Bob," Yelena warns and tries to approach him to make him see reason.

"No! He hurt her. No one can touch her, or hurt her!" he exclaims in a mixture of anger and darkness. "No one! You heard me? Fucking no one!"

The others stare at the scene and notice how Y/N wakes up and observes the state Bob is in. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she rushes over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his.

"Bob, hey. It's okay," she murmurs in his ear, feeling the man begin to slow down the blows, so she tightens her grip on his body. "I'm okay. Everything will be okay."

Bob calms down and brings his now covered in blood hands to Y/N's arms, then turns his body and hugs her with all his strength, trying to cover her body to protect her just in case, and also feel her in his arms and make sure nothing happens to her anymore.

"You are hurt" he whispers in her ear.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine" Y/N says with a small smile on her lips.

"He hurt you. I couln't allow him to do it" he says in a broken voice.

Y/N looks at the rest of the team and smiles at them, letting them know she's okay. Kinda. Bucky sighs and shakes his head at the girl in that state, knowing she must be screaming from the pain of the bullet, while Alexei smiles sideways and tries to encourage her from a distance. The blonde russian girl mouths to her that she will get the car ready to go, to wich Y/N nods and indicates her to do so.

"We still have our date," she tells him, still standing with the brunette, glancing at the man's lifeless body.

Bob lets out a sigh and nods his head against Y/N's chest, agreeing with her.

"Our date," he says in a soft tone, relaxing at the touch of her fingers in his hair. Although he can't help but feel anger again when he smells the metallic scent coming from the girl's wound.

"Yeah. Are we still up to that?"

"Definitely" Bob answers and lets out a small laugh.

She smiles and then pulls away from him to look him in the eye. Those blue orbits who watch her with a spark on his eyes.

"So let's go home and have our date, okay?" Bob nods and then lowers his gaze to the girl's wound.

"First, we need to treat your wound," he says, pointing to the red stain on her suit.

"Would you help me with that?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

They both stare at each other with a small smile on their faces, understanding how much they care for each other and would do anything to keep them safe and viceversa.

Especially Bob.

And as long as Y/N is in his arms, he'll be okay.

[pathologicalreid]

put a bow on it | s.r.

in which Spencer is in charge of doing both of your daughters hair in the morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: twin dad!spencer AND girl dad!spencer. twin jealousy. word count: 1.5k a/n: twin dad!spencer!!!! a pathologicalreid first!! this one goes out to arya because she let me ramble about this idea lolololol

The pout that was being reflected in the mirror reminded him of you. At another time, he would’ve found it cute, adorable even, that one of your daughters had adopted your mannerisms, but right now, he was running late. 

He’d spent hours over the past week assuring you that you didn’t need to move your appointment this morning and he was more than capable of getting the girls off to school on his own. Breakfast was easy enough—they liked his french toast more than yours anyway—and the girls were old enough to lay their own outfits out the night before, but what he hadn’t anticipated was what happened after their teeth were brushed and he was handed two combs. 

It was something you enjoyed, individualizing the girls’ hair every day before school, but aside from a classic ponytail, he wasn’t well versed in styling their hair. Naturally, a ponytail wasn’t going to cut it today. 

“I wanted mommy to curl it,” June insisted, pointing at the curling iron that was neatly hung away from the reach of tiny hands. She’d been the first to scowl at the offer of a ponytail, insisting that her hair had to be done precisely the way she wanted it. 

Eyeing the hot tool warily, Spencer quickly tried to put together an excuse that the five year old would accept, but he came up empty. “I don’t think I should use something hot until mommy shows me how to use it,” he tried to explain. 

As if on cue, June tilted her head to the side curiously and asked, “Why not?” 

Admittedly, he had walked right into that one, but he sighed and scrambled for the answer, “Because you might get hurt.”

Big, brown eyes stared up at him, waiting for further explanation to satisfy her inquisitive nature, but instead of it coming from him, it came from her twin, standing on the other side of the counter. “It’s like the stove,” Edie offered, trying to climb up on the bathroom counter and frowning when Spencer gently tugged her down. 

Realization flooded June’s eyes, “Oh, you need an adult to use the curler.” She rattled off the answer that made sense to her. 

With both girls standing on their respective stepstools—engraved with their names and bedazzled by Aunt Penelope—Spencer took a deep breath. “Exactly,” He conceded. “So, what do you want me to do with your hair?”

“Braids, please!” Edith piped up with her request, but those were outside of Spencer’s skillset. You’d been teaching him how to braid the girls’ hair, but it was difficult to find the time and to get to stay still. Fruit snack bribery only got you so far. 

June looked pensively in the mirror, shrugging off her frustration about the curling iron and looking up at Spencer, “Can you do a half-pony?” 

“I can’t, but I appreciate your manners,” he responded to Edith first before turning to June, “Can you show me what a half-pony is?” He asked, making a note of the hairstyle jargon that he was getting a crash course on. 

June nodded happily, pulling strands of her hair back from her face and gathering them at the back of her head in her little fingers, “And then you do a bow.” 

He frowned slightly, “A bow?”

Junie beamed, “Yeah, a matchy bow.”

Spencer was familiar with the tote filled with bows that you’d invested in over the years, he was convinced they had a bow for every outfit. “Can you pick a bow?” He moved the tote on the counter in front of her, hoping to solve the issue of needing a matching bow by having her choose one on her own. He turned his attention to Edith, who had traded expressions with her twin and now bore a pout. “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I wanted braids,” Edie explained, dragging her fingers down each side of her head to show that she wanted french braids. Disappointed tears welled in her eyes, and the fact that Spencer couldn’t fix the issue broke his heart. 

He frowned slightly, “Hey, no tears,” he cooed. “What if I try to do little braids?” His offer was a carefully calculated plan, using words that he’d heard you use before when talking about the girls’ hair. These weren’t french braids, little braids would start at the base of her neck and go to the ends of her hair. 

Woefully, Edith nodded, fiddling with the cuff of her sweater while she eyed the bows her sister was deliberating on. “Can I have a bow too?” 

“You can have two if you’d like,” Spencer proposed, “One for each braid.” He accepted the bow that June was holding out for him and slid the tote over to Edith. 

June gaped at his offer, “I want two bows!” 

Somewhere, he had misstepped, “She gets two bows because she wants two braids, you only wanted one pony.” He was fairly certain he was approaching pigtail territory, and his almost never turned out even. 

“I want two!” June exclaimed, waiting a moment before speaking up again, “Please.” 

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “Okay, but no more changes,” he told her, knowing she was already on her third hairstyle of the day. 

She nodded happily at his compromise, producing the matching bow that she had already fished out of the tote for him. June teetered on the balls of her feet excitedly at the prospect of getting pigtails while he sprayed her hair with detangler, just barely starting to comb her hair back for the pigtails when she flinched away from him. 

His heart jumped for a moment, fearful that he’d pulled too hard on her head, but he relaxed when she spoke up, “That’s not how mommy does it.” 

No, he supposed it’s not how you would do it, but then again, you would’ve been able to curl her hair the way she wanted, avoiding the realm of pigtails entirely. “Trust me on this,” he tried to reassure her despite his rapidly dwindling confidence. 

June put her head back in place, letting him brush her hair back before parting it down the middle. He glanced up at the mirror, watching Edith as she took her own brush in her hands and started raking it through her hair. “I’ll do yours in a minute, Edie,” he told her, not wanting her to feel like she had to do it on her own. 

“She always goes first,” Edith whined, slightly out of character for your bashful daughter. Spencer frowned slightly, not realizing her had conformed to the general order of things. 

“Cuz I’m older,” June countered pointedly, glancing up at her father to gauge his reaction to her claim, but Spencer remained stone faced. Both of you had decided to refrain from revealing which twin is older, and it’s saved you from dozens of arguments along the way. 

Spencer hummed, wrapping the first elastic around June’s hair, “I’ll let mommy know, and you can go first tomorrow.” 

Junie huffed at his dedication to keeping the secret, but her scowl turned into a grin when she saw her hair. A golden rush of victory led to a sigh of relief from him, clipping her bows to her pigtails while she bounced in excitement. He had a sneaking feeling she didn’t act this way when you did her hair, meaning all of this joy was solely for him. 

When it was Edie’s turn, Spencer still combed through her hair, even though she had done most of it on her own. She fiddled with the peeling laminate of the bathroom counter while he braided her hair, talking himself through the process—left, center, right, center—and hoping he wouldn’t get them mixed up. 

June was unable to stand still any longer, so Spencer told her she could go watch cartoons until it was time to leave. “Is she older?” Edith mumbled slightly. 

Spencer shrugged, tying off her braid with a bow that previously belonged to a doll, “Does it matter?”

She sighed in a way that only a five year old could, “Guess not.”

“You’re still twins, you were born on the same day,” Spencer tried to explain in a way she would accept. 

“Is that why we have the same birthday?” She asked, fumbling through her words—birfday. 

He hummed a confirmation, “Yeah, because your birthday is the day you were born.” He tied off the second braid before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

She was quiet for a moment, he thought she was pondering birthdays, so he was surprised when she whispered, “Daddy?” 

“Yeah, baby?” He responded. 

Pointing at her hair, Edith gave him a sympathetic look while silently showing him the huge chunk of hair that had been left out of the braids.

“I think mommy’s gonna have to give me another braiding lesson,” he told her, unraveling the braid so he could try it again. 

Edie nodded mournfully, “I think so too.”

[xdyledz]

i hate you

at you and bakugous wedding he reveals his true feelings

★・・・・・・★

“ it is now time for the vows, bakugou we will start with you.”

Bakugou reaches into in pocket and pulls out papers, making sure to wipe his hands against his pants.

looking at you and then taking a deep breath and clearing his throat he says “ about a month into our relationship i realized one thing about you. i was in the shower after a date, you had kissed me for the first time. in my head i declared that i hated you.”

gasp filled the room. bakugou looked up from the paper and into your eyes once again, he saw you taken aback. hearing a faint “ katsuki..” from his mom he knew he should continue.

“ i hated you more into the relationship, i had this feeling in me when i thought about you. i hated it. “

“ i hated the way you came into my life like you owned it, and the thing i hated the most about you is that you made me feel human.”

“ dude this isn’t what we planned “ kirishima says from behind bakugou. him and bakugou stayed up numerous nights trying to find the write words to say to you, bakugou would describe his feelings to kirishima and kirishima would write down a sentence, but nothing was good enough for bakugou so when they finally came to an agreement…bakugou tossed it.

“ For example “ bakugou starts again “ i hate seeing you, hearing your voice, being next to you and having you touch me, everything that you did effected me.”

“ i hated how when i slept i wished you were there, when i shared an apartment with kirishima, kaminari and sero i hated how anything i had to do with them i wanted to do with you, i hated being alone because you weren’t there to throw me a smile, i hated your smile, i hated when you smiled that was the only thing i wanted to see, i hated feeling you lips on me because i never wanted them to leave.”

taking a breath in bakugou made sure not to look at you, he didn’t want to see the look on your face,

“ the worst part is that i never hated any of this, i loved it. and that scared me to my core. i never thought i would be able to feel this way about anyone, this feeling was so forgine to me “

“ so i shut you out, for the first 6 months of our relationship i was terrible to you. i never gave you any love, or affection. i wasn’t talking to you, i avoided you. i kept us secret. i didn’t want anyone to know that bakugou katsuki was capable of love because you made me feel like a human being not some hot shot hero with a big ego. whenever i thought i could do anything, beat everyone, you always reminded me that i was human.”

a shaky breathe leaves him “ you scared the crap out of me, i didn’t like what you gave me but i craved it, i craved you. “

“ the moment i think about still to this day is the day you told me you loved me, i didn’t say it back. instead i took your hand off my shoulder and walked to the bathroom and telling you that i had to piss. in that bathroom i wanted to scream “

“ the night it all changed is when i heard you and my dumb friends talking in the kitchen. you had begged me for us to have a sleep over and in the middle of the night you got up. secretly i followed you. i heard kaminari ask you ‘ are you and bakugou gonna break up ‘ at that i froze, i listened further into the conversation and when you said ‘ if me and bakugou break up it will be him doing the breaking up, he’s rude and hot head and not very affectionate but those small moments with him are worth it’ “

“ i don’t know what changed in me that night but that was the first night i initiated touch with you while i was fake sleeping “

“ i hate our relationship because of those first 6 months, i didn’t know how to properly treat you and how to communicate my feelings which i still can’t do.” bakugou lets a tear fall out of his eyes.

“ i hate how i never gave you what you deserved, i worked my butt off and tried so hard after that night to show you that i still love you. i love your smile, your laugh, or when you choose to sleep directly on me instead of your side of the bed and then drool on me. how you cook with me, comfort me after a long day, how you play with my hair, how you always snap back at me. how you love to bake with me. “

“ i love those late nights where you and me just talk about absolutely nothing. i love when when you get a tingly feeling in your nose and you stuff and strunchn into my shoulder for comfort. i love how you jump into my arms randomly, i love when you put your cold feet under my shirt to warm them up. i love when you rub my back and kiss my forehead. i love everything about you and everything you do. i hate how i can never tell you how much i love you.”

“ i never hated you, i loved you. and i was so scared to show it. i hate myself because i can never find the right words to tell you anything because even now i still don’t deserve your love. “

looking into your eyes you see tears falling from his and his lip quivering. bakugous fist are gripping the paper at this point.

“ but you deserve all of mine, y/n i love you “

silence came over the whole building..

“ was that okay?” he asked you in a quiet whisper still having tears fall from his eyes.

‘ even when crying you look beautiful ‘ he thought to himself.

★・・・・・・★

chatness this kinda feels rushed and not really thought out but idk i really wanted to write a fic about this. bakugou is bakugou so i’m a firm believer that in the beginning of any of his romantic relationships it’s very hard. also i was think of writing some of these senarios out idk.

[riddlesrose]

special features

w/ azul, jamil, leona, & malleus

in which he has a certain feature that remind you a lot of nature's creatures, but it's cute. a lot cuter.

a.n; i think jamil kind of does have tiny fangs of some kind, or just longer (??) canine teeth, but take it as a headcanon of sorts. fact, lets call all of these headcanons!

enjoy this while i work on something bigger;))))

azul has blue blood coursing through his veins. the transformation potions he consumes are enough to physically change his body from an eight-legged sea creature to a human, walking on land with two legs, but even with the physical changes, azul is still at home in the sea.

you found out about his blue blood not far into knowing him, but not because he injured himself or told you– no, you had flustered the poor housewarden half to death. his face blossomed into a light blue hue that caught your attention, causing you to point it out.

"i am an octopus at the end of the day, dear. we have blue blood, not red!"

jamil takes caution to deter attention from the two prominent, sharp canine teeth that resemble snake fangs. he's spent years training himself not to smile too wide, not to yawn in public, and definitely not to point them out. he's never been particularly ashamed of them, just takes extra caution to not alarm or startle anyone, especially young children like many of kalim's siblings or his own younger sister.

he's gotten used to them over the years, but when you innocently ask about them, he's suddenly a little bit shy. he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his chin, covering most of his mouth, resulting in his fangs being hidden from your curious view.

"i was born with them, they're nothing special."

leona's eyes slit and expand like a common house cat when he's surprised or extremely pleased. he denies it every time someone brings it up, but he's usually unbothered by the curious looks he gets, as he's use to them. and really, no one would dare piss off a prince. especially a prince like leona.

when you take notice to leona's fluctuating pupils, you realize he's a lot nicer than the front he puts up. he particularly notice he's not so opposed to your presence, his pupils expand a lot when you're around, they quickly slit when someone tries to bug him, and they're dangerously sharp when someone wakes him up prematurely from a nap. but they're always somewhat blown wide when he's within an arms reach, it's almost comical how you didn't notice them sooner.

"one word, and you're banned from savanaclaw, herbivore."

malleus had never realized he's able to purr. not until you came along. he's never had someone he's been so comfortable with, someone he feels so free around. the first time it happened, you were relaxing in his room, content with drawing messy shapes on his hand.

the rumbling had you believing a storm was brewing, but malleus was in a good mood, and the sky was clear of any angry clouds. you were confused until he came closer, attempting to inspect the sky, he gently leant on your back. that's when you felt the rumble that emitted from malleus's chest.

"i simply had no idea i was capable of that, it's fascinating."

masterlist

[batsandbirdbrains]

Istg if tumblr deletes this one again im actually gonna throw a fit. It’s not as detailed bc im mad and can’t remember a lot of it but here’s the general gist of it:

The one where Dick knew he was supposed to become a Talon

But like imagine if it wasn’t a secret that Haly’s Cricus was a training ground for the Court of Owls, at least among the main troupe. It was a goal, an aspiration, something to achieve. And Dick knew for as long as he could remember that he was training to become a Talon, just like his great-grandfather. His parents trained him, the other members of the circus trained him, it was his biggest goal in life to become the next Talon. He worked at it tirelessly.

Dick couldn’t remember ever being in Gotham, but he knew he’d been there before - when he was a toddler, he’d first met his great-grandfather. That’s what his parents told him. That his great-grandfather called him the prophesied Gray Son. Dick’s father tells him stories of his great-grandfather, the head Talon, and Dick is mesmerized.

And when he was eight, they were going back to Gotham again. It would be his first real test for the Court. If he did well, it would be his first real step to becoming a Talon.

And he was so nervous. He wanted to do well, he wanted to make his parents proud, he wanted to impress his great-grandfather. He was nervous and excited and anxious all at once, but it was exhilarating.

Until his parents were killed, and he was convinced it was part of the test. And in a split second, he decided he no longer wanted anything to do with the Court. He didn’t even mind juvie, even though he knew his social worker’s excuse of there being no available foster homes was bullshit. He figured maybe the detention center was safer than a random foster home.

Then he was taken in by Bruce Wayne, and he was terrified he was about to be handed over to the Court. He didn’t know much about how they worked, but he knew they were made up of Gotham’s elite. How could a billionaire not be part of it?

But a couple weeks later, he finds out Bruce is Batman, and he suddenly feels safer than he had since his parents fell. Batman was safe. Batman was a good guy.

Dick didn’t tell him anything about the Court, though. He was terrified that Bruce wouldn’t want him anymore if he knew what Dick had trained to be, if he knew what Dick had wanted to be for his whole life. He was scared Bruce would hand him back over to the Court, disgusted by what Dick’s life has been up until then.

But it’s why Dick is so well trained, why he’s so capable of being out with Batman after only a few weeks. He becomes Robin. And even though it makes Dick said to think that the nickname his mother gave him no doubt had a connection to the Court, he thinks that this will maybe be a positive thing. Robin can be good now. Robin can do good.

And when Dick tells Bruce he never wants to go back to the circus, he assumes it’s a trauma response. That the circus makes him remember his parents’ fall, that he doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of the family he used to have. Bruce doesn’t fight him or question him when he insists he wants nothing to do with the circus anymore, he just makes sure Dick is alright, that he’s doing everything he can to make sure Dick feels safe and comfortable in his new home.

Years pass, and even though Bruce has since found out about the Court and how Dick and circus were connected to it, he still doesn’t know that Dick already knew. He tries to comfort him once it’s all over, telling him that his parents must not have known, that they wouldn’t have wanted that kind of life for their son. Dick doesn’t correct him.

Then Nightwing gets de-aged by a magician on patrol one night, and he’s suddenly eight years old again, from before his parents died. The others rush him back to the batcave, and once things have settled, Dick just sort of watches them, sitting eerily still.

“You’re in Gotham,” Bruce tells him after explaining what happened with the de-aging.

Dick tilts his head, and they all are a bit surprised at how he perks up.

“Oh! Is this the Court?” He’s looking around the room, taking in every detail. “It doesn’t look like how Pa described it.”

“The Court?” Tim asks.

“The Court of Owls!” Dick nods his head. “I’m gonna be a Talon when I grow up. Just like my great-grandfather!”

No one says anything, all of them baffled, but Dick continues looking around, kicking his feet on the edge of the exam table.

“Pa said my first test would be in Gotham soon, but I won’t leave the circus full time ‘til I’m sixteen. Then I’ll be made a real Talon when I’m eighteen.”

Bruce stands there frozen, the reality hitting him that Dick knew all along that he was supposed to be a Talon. That he never told Bruce. That this little boy who becomes his son was once training to become an assassin, and he seems so excited about it.

“You said I’m s’posed to be older, right?” He holds his hands up to his face, looking at the veins on his wrists. “Am I immortal now like great-grandfather? Pa said my veins would be black, but they still look normal.”

Dick looks up, and he finally notices their horror and shock. And he starts to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching, and he looks terrified. Bruce snaps out of his own shock quickly, and he explains as gently as he can that Dick has lived here since he was young, that he’s been a vigilante this whole time. That he doesn’t work for the Court of Owls.

He comforts his son. His son who’s currently a child and scared and anxious and worried and ripped away from everything he thought he knew. He doesn’t tell him that the Court is bad, not yet. He doesn’t tell him the horrible way his great-grandfather treated him once they did eventually meet when Dick was a teenager. He just holds him, and tells him how amazing he was as Robin, how fantastic he is as Nightwing, and how proud he is of him.

And maybe that’s why Dick was so close with Damian, why he sometimes seems like the only person who understands Damian. Because he does understand. He knows ha it’s like to grow up training to be an assassin, what the expectations are like, and how hard it is to turn some of that training off once you’ve decided to be a good guy.

Maybe Damian is extra protective of him while he’s de-aged, because he realizes this quickly. And Dick tells him stories about his own training, and Damian tells him stories back, and Damian lets him know that he understands the way Dick must be feeling so conflicted now.

[asterafroditis]

hey so how do you think the house wardens would deal with a s/o who they find out is from rsa. They met outside of colleges. S/o was super nice and there wasn’t any competitive nature once s/o found out where their bf went too, most of the boys bragged at some point about going to their college. S/o is like “oh looks like we go to rival colleges :D”. “If anyone’s got a problem with me dating you they can suck on a lemon for all I care”?

𐔌 . ⋮ romantic rivals .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆ Housewardens x gn! reader

𓏵 1297 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

hopefully this fulfills your request! idk anything about RSA so I hope the info fits well enough (´◦ω◦`) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Riddle had always taken pride in his education. Night Raven College was a place of discipline, order, and prestige. So when he found out that his significant other—kind, supportive, and always willing to listen—attended Royal Sword Academy, he wasn’t quite sure how to react.

He finds out by accident when you come over to visit him at NRC. The two of you are sitting under a gazebo in the rose garden, your hands brushing slightly as you flip through a book of classical magic theory.

“You know,” you say offhandedly, “we studied this last year at RSA. My potions professor was obsessed with theoretical applications.”

He blinks. “…RSA?”

“Royal Sword Academy,” you confirm casually, flashing him a peace sign. “Looks like we go to rival schools.”

Riddle stiffens. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his mind already racing through past conversations—had you ever mentioned this before? How did he miss it?

“You’re from RSA?” he repeats slowly.

“Yup! If anyone’s got a problem with me dating an NRC student, they can suck on a lemon for all I care.”

That derails his internal panic completely. “S-Suck on a—?!” He splutters, scandalized, but your smile doesn’t waver. There’s not a trace of competitiveness in your tone, not a shred of superiority.

You don’t see him as a rival. You just see him.

Later, when he walks you to the mirror, he brushes your fingers with his.

“I suppose… I shouldn’t be so shocked. You’re incredibly capable, regardless of where you study.”

You smile. “Thanks, Riddle. And for the record, I think NRC’s lucky to have you.”

His ears flush red. He huffs. “Flattery is unnecessary… but appreciated.”

─────────────────────────

When you finally told Leona you were from Royal Sword Academy, you expected him to scoff or roll his eyes. What you didn’t expect was the long silence.

You were curled beside him in the sunlit corner of the botanical garden, the warm afternoon breeze rustling your shared blanket.

“Mm, the campus flowers remind me of home,” you murmured. “RSA keeps theirs all organized and trimmed. Very picturesque. I miss it sometimes.”

He cracked open an eye. “RSA?”

“Yeah. Royal Sword Academy.” You stretched. “We’re technically rivals, right?”

He groaned. “You’re one of those goody-goodies in white suits?”

You grinned. “One of them, yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not here to compare your school to ours.”

Leona side-eyed you for a beat. “And you’re dating an NRC student like me, knowing the entire school system paints us as ‘troublemakers’ and ‘delinquents’?”

You shrugged. “You’re hot and smart. If someone’s got a problem with that, they can sit on a cactus.”

He laughed. A real one.

“Damn herbivore,” he muttered, fondness creeping into his voice. “You’re alright.”

And from that day on, he started calling you “RSA brat” with something like pride.

─────────────────────────

The moment you mentioned “Royal Sword Academy,” Azul’s pen froze mid-signature. You were helping him with some Mostro Lounge invoices, sorting papers with a cheerful hum.

“Ah, these contract formats remind me of home. Our student council at RSA uses something similar.”

“…RSA?” Azul repeated, slow and wary.

You looked up, innocent. “Yeah, Royal Sword Academy. Why?”

He went very still. “You’re a Royal Sword Academy student.”

“Technically, yeah. But we met off-campus, remember? You didn’t exactly introduce yourself as NRC’s rising businessman either.”

He stared, calculating. “Do you… intend to use this against me?”

You blinked, confused. “What? No? Azul, I like you, not your résumé.”

He sat back in his chair, processing.

“…You don’t care?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hands. “Nope. You’re smart, dedicated, and always think five steps ahead. I admire that. And if anyone’s got a problem with you being from NRC and me from RSA, they can take it up with the sea.”

His lips twitched. “That’s not how the expression goes.”

“It is now.”

Azul laughed softly. “You’re a very peculiar person.”

You smiled. “You love it.”

“…Perhaps I do.”

─────────────────────────

You never really meant to hide being from RSA from Kalim. The topic just never came up until someone mentioned something offhandedly in passing.

“Wait—you go to Royal Sword Academy?!” Kalim turned to you, eyes wide with surprise.

“Yup,” you said with a laugh. “Didn’t mean to surprise you. I just didn’t think it mattered.”

He grinned. “No way! That’s so cool! We’re like—inter-school sweethearts!”

You blinked. “That’s one way to put it.”

He twirled you around like you were ballroom dancing. “You must have so many stories! And don’t worry, I don’t mind at all that you’re from RSA!”

“Even if people think we’re rivals?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “If anyone’s got a problem with me dating you, they can look away and cry about it!”

You snorted. “Is that your version of telling them off?”

“Yup!” he chirped. Then he pulled you close. “Besides, no school rivalry matters more than how happy I am with you.”

And you knew he meant every word.

─────────────────────────

When Vil found out you were from RSA, he didn’t immediately react. You were seated on a balcony after a shared modeling shoot, your legs swinging over the edge.

“Reminds me of campus,” you said softly. “Our towers at Royal Sword Academy overlook the mountains too.”

His brow twitched. “Royal Sword Academy?”

You blinked. “Yeah. Didn’t I mention?”

He sat back with a sigh. “No, you didn’t. Not that it matters much.”

“Do you… think less of me?”

He gave you a sharp look. “Don’t be absurd. You’re poised, well-spoken, and dress better than most NRC students. I just… didn’t expect that.”

You chuckled. “Well, rivalry or not, I’d pick you every time. If anyone’s got a problem with that, they can go exfoliate their negativity away.”

He smirked despite himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Admit it. You like me ridiculous.”

He brushed your hair aside, lips brushing your temple. “You’re tolerably radiant.”

─────────────────────────

Idia didn’t do well with surprises. So when you casually mentioned you were from RSA while gaming with him, he froze mid-button press.

“Wait. You go to Royal Sword Academy?”

You paused the game. “Yeah. Is that… bad?”

His hair flared blue. “Wha—you’re like—my arch-nemesis school!!”

You tilted your head. “So… are you breaking up with me?”

His jaw dropped. “NO?? I mean—no!! I just—I—omg…”

You laughed. “Chill. I don’t care about school rivalries. I care about you. If someone wants to judge that, they can either duel me and my god-built characters or shut up.”

He blinked. “…Okay that’s kinda hot.”

You winked, acting like the love interest in an otome game. “I know.”

He didn’t stop blushing for the rest of the night.

─────────────────────────

Malleus found out when he tried to invite you to a gargoyle lecture and workshop and you hesitated.

“I’d love to, but… my schedule at RSA is packed this week.”

He turned. “You attend Royal Sword Academy?”

You nodded. “Is that… bad?”

He thought for a moment. “No. I’ve always been curious about that institution.”

You smiled. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t care that we’re from rival schools. If anyone has a problem with that, they can go argue with the wall.”

He chuckled. “You are as fearless as ever.”

And when he next walked with you through the moonlit forest, he told you gently:

“School boundaries are mortal things. My regard for you is not so easily constrained.”

You beamed. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

[ysaefinn]

Pairing: Dilf!Satoru Gojo x gn!reader x Dilf!Suguru geto

In a marriage you pick up each other's slack.

It's a partnership first and foremost, spouses don't have to necessarily operate as a merged unit but it should always be them against the problem.

Suguru is an extraordinary cook, nothing short of an artist with his tools and ingredients. An alchemist with spices and sauces, and a surgeon with knives. Two big calloused hands coming down on the freshly put-together batch of dough, effortlessly kneading away at the mass, shaping it so ~so~ easily into whatever shapes he desires. It's a little odd to think this but there's something...~sensual~ about it, maybe it's the casualness, maybe it's because it almost feels like a subtle reminder of what he can do, that you are yet to see his physical abilities meet their limit. Regardless, the display coupled with the golden rays of the sun, shining on his unwavering gentle smile, reflecting on the silver strands of his contrasting inky locks, giving the illusion of crystals meticulously woven in each strand. Suguru puts angels to shame.

Satoru rests on the other side of the coin. According to the silver-headed man, brute force is the only way around a car engine, you can't possibly get a vehicle to start moving without giving it some maintenance with your fist. Lifting heavy parts and maneuvering them requires a lot of strength and stamina, both are qualities that Satoru has managed to retain throughout the years. Rough fingers easily popping small pieces on and off, inserting rods and poles with a swift push of his hip. The black engine oil that seeps out is quickly nipped in the bud with a rough thumb shoved into the leaking hole. And once the problem is solved he runs his whole hand through his pure white hair and cracks his typical joke of turning into his husband before giggling to himself every time. It's very sloppy and messy the way he goes about things, but as long as it gets him where he needs to be, he won't be changing the way he operates.

It doesn't make Suguru the happiest man in the world watching his husband beat a non-living object somehow to death, he couldn't even entertain the thought of going about things the way his husband does. But that's what Satoru's here for! To take care of the things Suguru would rather not and vice versa, –since the white-haired man doesn't have the patience for marinating chicken or baking food for hours–.

Because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

–

"That's my baby.." you finally reach your peak with a drawn-out whine, coating Suguru's entire hand in the process, the man wastes no time licking his finger clean from your slick while running his other large hand up and down your tummy "you're doing so well, sweet thing" he moves his palm around your waist before squeezing at your flesh gently and you shudder in response "making us so proud like always, sweetheart". "Satoru, focus on keeping those pretty wrists together, we're working on being braver and not hiding our face, right?".

Right, this was a lesson.

By the time your vision clears from your orgasm, Satoru has finished wiping off the juices you left on his face from your earlier climax, and he takes the chance to kiss your drowsy self rough and messy catching you completely off guard. He's ripped away from you just as quickly by the hair.

Suguru's hands are more than capable of being cruel and unforgiving when it comes to you.

"Be gentle" Suguru scolds, an icy cold tone –almost unrecognizable– "they're still sensitive" and he's back to cooing sweetly again, Suguru is only ever this mean because he knows his husband can handle the heat.

The silver-haired man falls back with a grumble "Ugh, you never let me do anything" he whines childishly, earning a playful raised brow from his husband. "That's only because you don't know how to be gentle" Suguru counters "You brute.." A warm heavy hand rests on your head before petting you like a well-loved kitten, as if the smallest of sudden movements can hurt or distress you. "You have to be gentle with them. They can't handle how rough you get at times, Satoru".

Oh he doesn't have the slightest idea.

You can definitely without a single shadow of a doubt handle Satoru when he gets his hands on you. Unlike his husband, Satoru listens to your requests of a rougher pace loud and clear and gives you exactly what you wish for –something Suguru has never approved of. But on the other hand, he is much softer and more intimate with you when his head is between your thighs. Suguru however, would rather watch you squirm and whine and cry from that same angle. Now that is what you can't handle.

And it makes sense because in a marriage you pick up each other's slack!

"Can't handle how rough I get?" Satoru scoffs before looking back at you and lovingly rubbing your thighs "Seems Sugu doesn't know the first fuckin' thing about what you can and can't handle sweethe–A-ah!" Suguru interrupts his husband's sass by yanking him by the hair again and pulling him in for a kiss. All teeth all saliva.

Satoru pulls away to catch his breath, lips bitten and swollen crack into a smug grin. "Daaww you mad? Jealous that you know you hold yourself back? What kind of boyfriend are you Sugu~?"

It's really all in good fun –it would be at least, if this didn't question his dedication to caring for you to a degree– but his jaw still clenches and his eyes narrow as if challenging the man. He is undoubtedly bothered, yet still chooses the high road to ensure you continue to be in the spotlight. Classic.

The long-haired man releases his grip and moves over to scoop you up in his arms, he slides his hands from your waist down to your thighs before spreading your legs wide open for his husband. You jolt back and sink more into his plush chest, clearly still overstimulated from the previous peaks they forced you to reach. Suguru coos before kissing your cheeks sweetly and whispering something about not being shy or trying to hide from them.

"Use your mouth for something useful for once" he gestures to your aching core "come on, don't keep them waiting".

And Satoru gets into position without another word– for now–, moving forward and placing your legs over his shoulders, he pecks your left inner thigh before looking straight at you, –Azure flames shocking your senses, a strange cold sensation washes over you– sending shivers down your spine. It doesn't pass unnoticed, your men exchange fond looks.

It's like your little reactions are bonding moments for them.

But as long as Satoru's in the room, it wouldn't last.

"See? Very responsive. There's clearly a favorite~" Satoru purrs, and his husband rolls his eyes "Giving good head doesn't make you a better lover, Satoru" he scoffs, but still refuses to derail "But keeping our baby needy certainly makes you a terrible one, doesn't it sweetie?" Again, a noticeable softness in his tone when he turns to address you. "Now come on, get on with it"

"I want you to admit it first"

Suguru sighs "...you are good with your mouth".

"Just picking up your slack. That's marriage after all!"

[slut4thebroken]

mouth cockwarming hcs

Idk I had an idea lol but I couldn’t figure out which character to use so I just decided to do this instead

Bucky Barnes

Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

Spencer Reid

Cillian Murphy, Emmett, Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Lenny Miller, Neil Lewis, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tommy Shelby

(Warnings: daddy kink for a few of them (no incest), a little bit of age play ig?, ionno lol)

Bucky Barnes - He’s no virgin, obviously, but cockwarming in your mouth? That was definitely a new one. It’s not his favorite, but he likes seeing you so relaxed and calm. It reminds him that he’s capable of being gentle with someone so delicate. Plus it’s not too hard— he’s had decades to practice restraint, so he can handle sitting still under you while you nap with his cock in your mouth.

Dick Grayson - Honestly, he gets it— he has an oral fixation too lol, but he usually eats pussy instead. Dick prides himself on being a gentleman though so he’s had plenty of practice putting up with a boner for the sake of not ruining an innocent moment with a girl… Usually he just reads a book or watches a movie to try and not focus on the fact that his cock is literally in your mouth.

Jason Todd - He thinks it’s cute. You’re already so tiny compared to him, but when you use his dick as a pacifier? You just look so fucking adorable. If you’re ever in a situation where you can’t cockwarm him with your mouth, usually you’ll settle for suckling his fingers or his thumb— but you don’t like it as much because the calluses on his hands are too rough compared to his smooth, (sometimes) squishy cock.

Spencer Reid - He gets a little antsy to be honest, but if he has a book or some paperwork to go over, he can usually sit still long enough for you to get your fill. He knows exactly why people find comfort in this sort of thing, and he knows exactly why you specifically find comfort in it. So he doesn’t judge or think it’s weird. He likes being the one that you go to for this comfort.

Cillian Murphy - He finds it a little odd, but as long as you’re happy, he’s happy. Plus he likes how paternal and protective he feels when you’re laying on his stomach suckling on the head of his cock while he pets your hair. It’s usually enough to get you to fall asleep too. He thinks it’s cute hearing your soft snores as you drool a little bit around his cock.

Emmett - Makes his daddy kink go wild tbh. His little girl using his dick as a pacifier? Yeah. Half the time, he can control himself. But sometimes (usually after at least 20 minutes so you can have enough time to enjoy yourself) he’ll gently push on your head, urging you to start sucking more. You whine, but end up doing it anyway just to please him.

Jackson Rippner - Doesn’t like it at all. If you do it right after he fucks your face and shoots his load down your throat then he can usually put up with it for a little bit. But other than that, he doesn’t have the patience for it. Sometimes when you’re napping and he sees you sucking on your thumb instead, he feels a tiny bit of guilt very, very deep down... But not enough to get him to change his mind lol.

Jonathan Crane - He thinks it’s weird as fuck. Honestly he wants to delve deeper into whatever thing from your childhood gave you an oral fixation, but he resists (for now at least). He’s usually pretty good about not turning it sexual, unless he’s particularly frustrated or stressed from work or his… extracurricular activities.

Lenny Miller - He doesn’t really mind. Honestly, he finds it a little relaxing too. He likes coming home after a long, stressful day at work and just laying with his little girl, petting your hair while his dick rests in your mouth, feeling you suckle on the tip while you hug him tightly until you both fall asleep.

Neil Lewis - He’ll try it because you want it so badly, but after less than ten minutes of his cock resting in your mouth, he’s already hard and leaking. He ends up whining and squirming, trying to get you to suck his cock properly until you eventually just give in and blow him. If you do it right after an orgasm, he can usually last longer, but if not, you have ten minutes tops before he gets too needy.

Raymond Leon - He feels the same way about this as he does about most ‘relaxing’ things: it’s a waste of time. So he often tries to work while you’re falling asleep. You’ll lay between his legs with your head resting on his hip, his cock sitting in your mouth, and he only complains if he doesn’t have enough space to use his laptop/tablet.

Robert Fischer - He understands… When he’s feeling subby, he’ll sometimes do that on your nipple. So even when he’s getting hard, he’ll try to ignore it and let you enjoy this for as long as he can handle it. He just reminds himself over and over again that you always let him nurse on your tits for however long he wants, so you deserve to nurse on his cock every once in a while too.

Tommy Shelby - He’s a master of self control honestly so he doesn’t mind it. Sometimes you’ll both lay down for a nap and you’ll suck on the head of his cock until you fall asleep, sometimes he sits up in bed and reads or does some work. Either way, he doesn’t really mind it. Plus you always seem extra inclined to reward him for his patience when you wake up from a nap with it still in your mouth.

[chescaeli]

Aw, I love the idea of Dipper kind of resembling Ford (at least in terms of hairstyle) being something that shows his growth and confidenc! It's a really nice parallel/contrast between the original apprenticeship offer, where Ford was projecting a little too heavily onto Dipper when offering it and Dipper was struggling trying to grow up a little too fast. Now he's taking life at his own pace and growing in confidence as well as growing up. Also, the fact that he's showing off his birthmark by wearing a similar haircut reminds me of how Ford started to push back against his own insecurities when using his handprint to mark the journals - Dipper's following in his footsteps!

I pictured Dipper, having taken the time to fully enjoy his childhood and enter young adulthood naturally, to now be able to emulate Ford in a more healthy way. The two clearly see themselves in each other, and Dipper still highly looks up to his uncle, but he's been allowed to form a more secure sense of self-identity that's heavily based on embracing all parts of himself.

The parallel between Ford's hands and Dipper's birthmark is how I helped guide this part of Dipper's development. These have been with them since birth, representing things that are metaphorically and literally a part of themselves that they can never completely hide. After going through a lifetime of shame and insecurity, they only blossom into their most confident and truest versions of themselves once they start accepting them. Ford evolves into the “Author,” and Dipper grows as a more capable paranormal investigator.

This is a big part of how I characterize Young Adult Dipper in this concept. This Dipper knows who he is and what he can do. Sure, he's still awkward, and has small bouts of second guessing when it comes to a subject he's not too familiar with (as developing fully secure confidence takes time and patience), but he has found his element that he can always trust is his and his alone.

The supernatural (and unnatural) has become natural for Dipper.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus Draconia: Made Up

… Why does Malleus continue to have some of the most “hey are u lost bbg” facial expressions + poses ever on his initial birthday card artworks… 💀

He really looks like his mom when his hair is all pinned back like in his alt and Groovy look. xbjsbsjww The makeup products he’s using… They look like Giorgio Armani 💰

Rise and Shine!

Humans were blessed with two hands with which to do all of their work. Malleus Draconia had no need for either of his.

Lipstick, liquid eyeshadow, and finishing powder lifted into the air, glowing an eerie green. They uncapped and began applying themselves, gliding easily across his lips, painting his lids, and patting down his pale skin. Already, a cloth was busy polishing his horns, and a brush ran through his hair. A mirror, magically suspended before him, displayed his regal visage--a work of art slowly coming into its peak form.

You had heard Scarabia's vice dorm leader mention that he used magic to do his hair--a complex, precise process--but had never in your life witnessed a show like this. You clapped for Malleus, as if a spectator that had just seen a most wonderous trick.

He cut you a curious look. "May I ask why the applause, child of man?"

"It's just so cool seeing you use your magic," you replied truthfully. "There's so many things happening at once, it's hard to know where to keep my eyes. You're really amazing!"

There was a sound akin to a stifled chortle. These, you had grown accustomed to.

"You never cease to surprise. This is but a modicum of what I am capable of." He almost seemed to pout as he said it, as if itching to demonstrate the full extent of his powers. Wanting praise for something more.

"Oh, trust me. I know you are--but it's nice to see the Malleus Draconia using his magic to do normal, everyday stuff too." You grinned, ducking behind him to peek into his mirror. Your gazes met in the sparkling glass. "I wish everyone could see this."

"It is hardly a matter of importance to share the details of my morning routine with the masses. Besides, Grandmother would no doubt grant me a thorough scolding for allowing myself to be seen in such an improper state.”

He yawned, and a hand moved to cover his mouth, where you caught a glimpse of pointed canines. A rare moment of cuteness, of vulnerability. A side of himself kept private. Such a mundane thing--it reminded you that he, too, was but a student, preparing to tackle another day.

"Maybe not, but then again… maybe they'd see what I see too."

You quirked a brow. "And what is it that you see?"

"That you're not as scary as whatever scary made-up version of yourself they have in their heads. It's not all doom and gloom, wrath and lightning. You're someone that laughs and cries too."

"... Do they have that impression of me?" Malleus brought a hand to his chin. "Odd. When I last conversed with a peer of mine, they were so elated to be in my presence that they fainted on the spot. Lilia commended me for making such a strong impression on them."

"Erm... Lilia might not be the best judge for that." You poked at the corners of your mouth. "You have a nice smile, so how about showing it more? That might draw people to you."

"Hmmm. Like this, perhaps?"

He attempted to imitate you. The result was an awkward facsimile of your smile. Not quite the same curve, and with the tips of his fangs poking out. His eyes, still ominous.

Clumsy, but a little dangerous.

Your heart sprouted wings and fluttered. “It’s a good start! You’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Malleus sighed, and at once, the items that had been hovering around him collapsed along with his breath. “This is a conundrum. As a public figure and representative of my country, it’s imperative that I maintain my reputation.”

The fluttering in your chest settled like a stone sinking into the bottom of a lake. A sudden weight, a sadness, sitting in your stomach. He cut a gallant figure--but without the fairy lights and fire, he was but a pitiful creature trapped within stone walls.

Lonely and misunderstood.

Without a word, you slipped a hand into his. Malleus felt cold to the touch, like some long-forgotten relic dug up from some ruins.

His eyes shot wide open with alarm. "What are you..."

"Let's walk to class like this," you suggested softly. "I know you wouldn't harm me. If everyone else can see that... they'd understand, right?"

Shock flooded Malleus's face. Then, like a flash of lightning and a fleeting bellow of thunder, it was over, replaced by the faintest chuckle.

"... Very well." He squeezed your hand, the motion sending sparks of electricity through you. "I would not be opposed to this. If they are to weave tall tales, then all we must do is flip the script and write a story of our own to combat theirs."

[gyuisms]

little things ! c.sc

tldr. they say love is in the little things | pairings. seungcheol x gn! reader | fluff | cw. mentions of fighting, bad days | note. where do i find myself a seungcheol?

holding hands in a crowd

his fingers are always wrapped around yours, no matter the place or time. he finds ways to intertwine them but holding hands in a crowd is just special. even if he’s carrying some bags, he’ll shift them to his other hand and hold your hand if you’re entering a crowd. his fingers tighten around yours, a gentle squeeze before he intertwines your fingers. you could be distracted by completely different things but your hands are interlocked always. a gentle and subtle, i’m here.

buying things unprompted

it doesn’t matter how many times you scold him not to buy you stuff. the second he sees something that reminds him of you, his hands are grabbing it. whether it’s a plushie or the most atrocious thing, he’ll buy it. seungcheol also takes a mental note whenever he sees you using something old or broken. if he notices your broken phone case, he silently buys you one. your glasses are a bit skewed? he has already ordered on for you. your earbuds are not working properly? he gets a customised one for you. with him, you never have to ask anything. he’s already ready with it.

always having your back

he has your back no matter what. he’ll take the fall with you no matter the height. the thing about seungcheol is, he will never let you go through anything alone. your problems are his too. but if you wish to deal with it alone, he lets you, knowing you’re capable of taking care of it. even if you mess up badly, he’s still there. a mistake doesn’t deter him from loving you. he holds you accountable to your mistakes. even on your bad, moody days when you just want to be left alone, he leaves a small message, telling you to reach out when you feel like it. he loves you fully, not just the good parts but also the bad and ugly ones.

clear communication

he doesn’t beat around the bush. especially if he loves you and wants you in his life. which he does. this may not seem like a big thing but seungcheol always make sure there are no misunderstandings between you. this also applies to fights. he lets you air out your frustration and he does the same but no one will go to bed mad. either after a break or right after, he communicates with you. softly. even if he’s mad or annoyed, seungcheol knows he loves you at the end of the day. even if the fight hasn't resolved, he kisses your forehead and gives both of you time to cool off. he texts a simple i love you, making sure you know it despite the fight.