#and in his defense he doesn't know how their enemy looks like!!

[girlwithwolftatoo]

What is chained -Chapter 1

Summary: There was a dream named Rome, and saving it doesn't always mean to chop heads off.

Words: 1677

Characters: Marcus Acacius, emperor Geta, emperor Caracalla and others.

Chapter 1: Taraxia -Disturbance

Any man who has been to sea knows that, when a storm approaches, it is preceded by a shivering calm where silence and stillness are only the desperate cry of an inevitable terror. The air becomes salty, suffocating, the sails hang lifeless, the oars are stowed. And so Acacius thought of his own ship as the slaves loaded their belongings into a wide cart, pulled by a beautiful Gaul steed with its shaggy ankles and curly mane. Lucilla watched, paralyzed with anger from the porch, her hands wringing a sprig of lavender as she struggled not to cry. Her father said that what a free man earns should not be taken from him without cause, but her brother would have sadly agreed with his successors, those two little red-haired devils. Acacius turned away, once he had signaled to the servants that they could retire, and approached the woman with what he considered a reassuring face, which he well knew was not going to do much good. It broke his heart to provoke her to so much distress, but he knew, for that is only learned through years of iron and blood, that refusal would have been worse. “I'll be fine,” he told her, reaching out a hand to stroke her face. Lucilla closed her eyes, bowing her head over the powerful hand that tried to comfort her “Listen, give me a week, two maybe, I'll send messages in the meantime and then… I'll negotiate with the senate. They'll be reasonable, once they see results.”

Lucilla sighed, looking at him defeated. “I never wished this for you, and look at you…you're being sent into the jaws of wolves.” “I'll be able to handle them, you trust, don't you trust me?” he said it lightly, smiling, but his wife didn't play along. “When you raise your sword I do not fear for you, but these… enemies… how will you defend yourself if…?” “With the senate. One word from me and they will regret it. Please…” he added in desperation, giving her a kiss on the cheek, "trust, I know what I'm doing, or at least Gracchus does.’ It was all part of a defensive plan, Acacius said to himself after saying goodbye to Lucilla, riding with his things in the wagon that was taking him to his destiny, was that destiny? he wondered as he left his villa back to the scandal of the city. No celebrations, no making the matter public, that was the decision of the good Gracchus, a great and loyal friend of his wife and her father, so as to avoid angering the demons. It was true that in any case, the demons were already angry. Thraex was still trying in vain to reassure them when the cart stopped at the palace stables, so that Acacius barely set foot when he had clear duties to perform.

“General, I thank the gods you made it” whined the man, exiting through a double door from which could be heard shouts of two men fighting loudly. Acacius looked with exasperation at the door.

“They didn't take kindly to the news, I'm afraid.”

“No way, they're a wild beast, when I told them I thought they were going to kill me.”

Acacius was already used to Thraex hypersensitivity, so he didn't take it so seriously either, and walked through the double doors as if he had just entered an enemy barracks.

On one side, there was Geta, using one of those platters for exotic meats as a shield, and at the other end, his face so reddened that it showed under the heavy makeup, Caracalla, whose raging voice had become so high-pitched that Acacius thought he was going to summon bats.

“You can't tell me what to do!” he shrieked, waving a narrow-mouthed vase varnished in gold.

“I know, I know, I just want you to listen to me, if you keep going on like that...!”

“Do you think I care, I've never been insulted... like that...!”

Geta turned his head and met Acacius, his expression soured but he did nothing but clench his jaw, Caracalla instead dropped the vase - which shattered - and went running towards him, his brother unable to stop him; the older one clenched his muscles in case he rammed him, but the little twin was reduced to stopping a good few feet away, pointing a finger at him as he groaned:

“Et tu, Justus?”

“Calm down, you're embarrassing yourself,” Geta warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Acacius relaxed, he detested them both in equal parts, but ruefully admitted that the older twin was a bit more reasonable. “Your Majesties… I see the patrician Thraex has already informed you of the news in the senate.” “News? You call that news?” shrieked Caracalla, wincing ”They have mocked us, that's what they did, and you participated!” “If it wasn't me, it would have been someone else, my lord, and perhaps someone less sympathetic and more… interested in the privileges to be obtained than in the good of you and Rome” continued the general. “I don't know if you haven't noticed but we are no longer children, general” Geta rebuked him, still holding his brother ”We have ruled this empire for years, since we were very young, back then no one cared about our decisions and suddenly…” “You must understand, your majesties, that the people of Rome are no longer as they were in the time of Marcus Aurelius” at the old emperor's mention, Caracalla grimaced and Geta rolled her eyes, ”when the common people were… easily satisfied because they had all they could ask for. The empire is larger, yes, but not stronger or more prosperous.” "How are they not satisfied? We give them parties, shows, military victories, what more do they want?” hinted Geta, supported by his twin who nodded vigorously. Acacius made an effort not to change his expression, that was worse than talking to an infant.

“Yes, but none of it brings food to their tables or fire to their homes. Not all of them are nobles, or wealthy dynastic providers. That's why... that's why the senate has decided...”

“Yes, yes, we know! A curator...” The tone of contempt was not lost on the general.

“See this better as a... advisor in the face of the people” he tried. Acacius regretted not knowing how to speak with the astute finesse of politicians, just now a little lip service would do him good. “If I am always at their majesties' side and... advise them on matters of the people, nothing more, then the people will perceive you as... more... approachable.”

His brain was struggling to find the right words, and he wished he had Lucilla with him, she would surely know how to explain them better. Meanwhile, on the twins' faces there was an identical internal struggle. It was Caracalla who spoke first:

“Who was the idiot who suggested this plan? It couldn't have been you” He said it as if the very idea mortified him.

“No, I certainly don't know, the senate communicated to me only the decision... and that they voted for me as your... advisor.”

“And well, will you be glued to us at all hours? Will you follow us everywhere to tell us how to do our work, general?” asked Geta.

“Their majesties know that I don't know about politics. Of war, on the other hand...”

Yes, he thought suddenly, now that he could explain.

“Come, please, I want to show their majesties something” he requested as politely as he was able, approaching one of the exquisitely narrow windows. The twins followed him, wary. “See out there? Beyond those marble statues and those white steps…that's Rome, your subjects. Tell me, if you were down there, like them, arguing in the marketplace over the prices of a bit of garum and taking your boots to be darned for the third time in the year, how would you feel?” None answered, it seemed too existential a question for their brains. “The enemy can become an ally, if conquered…and it must not always be through violence. You want those people at your feet? You will have to win them back. That's what I'm here for.” The thought brought a strange smile to the twins' faces. Geta, the sharpest, nodded. “Ah, I understand… you'll make them love us, won't you? They adore you, how they get when they see you marching in your chariot! They almost deafen us, don't they?” he asked, turning to Caracalla. “Oh yes, good General Justus, they would make you emperor if they could…” he added with venom.

"Well then, if your majesties would offer your help, I could… well, I would take this matter very seriously. My duty…” he felt a shudder as he said it, "is for Rome to love you once more." That seemed to be enough for Geta, at least he was calmer. Caracalla however continued to insist. “What's in it for you, general? You already have a beautiful house, a noble wife, a superb horse… what more could you want?” Acacius thought it was amusing that the boy spoke to him as if he could bargain. “I do it for Rome, the people I swore to protect and glorify. Nothing more.” “Well… they certainly haven't announced the matter with fanfare” Geta commented, thoughtfully ”We would have expected you to arrive with full honors, a little party for your appointment…”

“No way, I'm not doing it for my own benefit and besides, it would be improper for me to have a party for such a thing. Too many parties would anger the people.”

“Especially since they are not invited” reasoned Caracalla with a silly chuckle ”Yes, yes, that's all very well, I think we can survive this. Don't overdo it, General, and I don't see why we shouldn't get along.”

“Excellent.”

Acacius took his leave, in order to go to his assigned quarters. Part of being curatormeant that he had to live in the palace, the one thing he abhorred most about that job; if Lucilla wasn't so friendly with Gracchus he would punch him in the face for getting him into that mess, but he would have time to ruminate on his frustration, perhaps later in the bath when he could relax as well. For now he had to go back to being the general, and come up with a strategy for this unequal war.

[idontknowmyownmind]

You know that one hsr video where Acheron and Black Swan dancing?

Yeah, make it og!Cale with [WS/Adin/Clopeh/Reddika]

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[nocturna-iv]

You're a loser, baby~

I love the level of detail in "Loser, baby" on a narrative level and how much it can tell us about HuskerDust. Husk didn't want to go after Angel; Charlie sent him. But at that moment, when the mask began to fracture, Husk extended his hand to the real Angel.

The smile? Husk has a plan. The kind of plan that involves pure nihilism and stopping self-judgment so Angel knows he's not alone. Husk doesn't need to do this, but he already knows the real Angel (when he's drunk) and likes him. So, Husk is offering the real Angel his company.

Angel is waiting for the typical “everything is going to be fine” talk. How many times has he heard it? Cuddles, hope, and light But Husk surprises him by treating him like an equal, someone who won't break. Obviously, it bothers Angel, and he gets defensive. Is this guy kidding?

The same guy who was annoyed by Angel's presence is now all over him, with the most pretentious smirk in the universe, calling him a LOSER (and baby). Angel is so confused by the turn of events.

So, obviously, Angel thinks Husk is playing with him. His face says it all! And Husk is still all over him, telling Angel the truth.

In this part, Husk shares his insecurities. Yes, there was a time, but the pain is still there. And from what he's gotten to know Angel, Husk feels like they could connect there. “You are not alone” goes both ways.

Husk manages to get Angel to open but does it with sarcasm. At this point, Angel doesn't think anyone is going to accept him as he is. So, he says something that many know: his contract with Valentino, who has a dangerous reputation. That's the opening Husk was looking for.

This part isn't Husk making light of Angel's situation. He's making it clear to Angel that he's not “unique”, that is, he's not alone. His suffering is not something that separates him from others. Husk is breaking into Angel's self-isolation due to his abusive relationship.

Obviously, Angel doesn't believe him. Years of abuse made it clear to him that no one is going to care for the real Angel. But he's indulgent with Husk, playing along, visibly skeptical, wanting to know where this is all going.

And Husk takes him by surprise again. He is gentle, guiding Angel, giving him space, always offering his hand. It's a fun dance for two. They are both losers. Husk isn't insulting him. He is telling him that it's okay to make mistakes. They both have done it.

So Angel decides to trust. Just a little. Because he knows how people react when they know who he is. Angel is barely singing, not fully entering the song.

And when Husk tells him that he's fine with Angel being like that, it's liberating. Angel sings, there is a crack in his voice, because he is having fun! He is not acting, he is being sporadic and exaggerated, almost a parody of his flirtatious mask.

Now it is Angel who seeks out Husk, recognizing him as the one who can understand him and is liberating! And Husk reaches him, reminding Angel that they're in all of this together. And Angel smiles. A big and real smile.

Husk shares his addictions to give Angel the opportunity to share his in a safe space. And now Angel sings with all his potential, being himself and having fun. And Husk reaffirms him. This is Angel, the real Angel that Husk met when Angel was drunk.

And that is the theme of the song. Embrace who you are and don't be ashamed. Take every self-destructive comment, dirty insult, and don't let them sink you. Say "So what?", it's you, you're fine, you're good.

Accept your mistakes, your failures, your flaws, and stop being your own enemy. It's hard to escape, but there is someone who understands you, and you aren't alone. Existence sucks; bite it with a smile!

And that's the point. Things aren't magically going to get better. The problems are not going to disappear. Life sucks, but you're not alone. The burden doesn't disappear, but it may be more bearable.

Angel is the one who comforts Husk, telling him that yes, existing is difficult, but he's not alone. He has him. And for Husk, that's something. The song is about them, after all.

And Husk tells him that maybe he and Angel can be losers and find happiness.

And now it's Angel who offers Husk his hand. Now it's Husk who puts his hand on Angel's. And Angel can't erase his surprise and smile.

Now Angel is the one accompanying Husk. Angel's voice becomes an instrument that follows Husk in harmony. The fun dance of two returns, but Angel includes his style. Husk no longer has to guide him.

They both reach for each other. Husk extends his hand almost at the same time as Angel, with his eyes closed, extends his.

And in the end? They both support each other, literally and symbolically. They are equals. Husk and Angel meeting in the middle. The real Angel being accepted by Husk.

[satoshy12]

Vlad ends up joining the Legion of Doom.

All his fellow villains think his enemy is really a Badger.

I mean, Vlad explained that he is tiny, white-haired, aggressive, and attacks the other villains without fear! To be fair, Danny. He is behaving kind of like one.

- I mean, look at Danny vs. Massive and Taller Ghosts, and then look at this picture; it's the same.

So the whole Legion of Doom thinks all the scars and how he was beaten up were by a tiny Badger.

Well, they learned the truth as the tiny white-haired child, who kind of behaved like one, attacked the Legion of Doom... and attacked all the villains till he found Vlad. And he attacked the heroes too.

To Danny's defense:. He had no idea who those people were, but he knows Vlad!

He sent that 10,000+ box to him! It's just fair that he beat him up! He had to find Box Ghost in all those boxes in the city, like Wack a Mole!! It was Vlad way to make danny not follow him. +

And Amity Park doesn't talk about heroes or villains outside, as they have to join the JL and have no time to protect their town all the time. So Amity Park adults made sure their hero didn't find out, so no talk about the outside world." I mean, Phantom protected Amity Park on the Alien Invasion post fanboying about them, while other cities got badly destroyed!

++ Gorilla Grodd looking at all the Chaos the boy did:" Well it makes sense he is called a Badger." Atomic Skull:" IfPlasmius wants to return, he won't piss of that Badger first." Giganta:" He kind of was cute. And very strong." Giganta was kicked into a new room by the boy.

[nadvs]

i have loved your work for some time now and you always outdone yourself with every new thing you write. im obsessed with the sleeping with the enemy blurbs🤍🤍

can i request rafe getting into a fight because he heard someone talking bad about reader and he goes to her dorm and she cleans him up and he doesn't confess what happened because she would mock him or something like that?

YOU’RE SO SWEET OH MY GOSH THANK YOU 😭 i loved writing the one-shot and i’m so pleasantly surprised and touched that so many readers like the au!! tysm i love this request!!

based on this fic

before he knows it, rafe’s knuckles are pulsating with a sharp ache. it all happened so fast.

he’s at a bar off campus. he’s painfully sober. his team lost at an embarrassing margin today. and then, he heard one of the guys who’s dating a girl on his team’s cheerleading squad shit-talking his best friend.

he called her an attention whore. said she purposely hikes up her skirt when she dances at games and will say yes to any guy who asks for ‘you know what’.

rafe knows the truth. this guy likely got caught looking at her by his girlfriend and is now overcompensating by saying how gross the hawks’ cheerleader is.

even though his words were bullshit, they were more than enough for rafe to start swinging. unfortunately, his victim had friends near by. they got a few punches in. then he got kicked out of the bar.

at this point, she’s the only person who can make him feel better. so, he’s knocking on her door soon after. he invited her out tonight, but she told him she’s staying in to study.

she gasps when she opens the door and sees him holding a red stained tissue up against his mouth.

“what the fuck…” she breathes. “are you okay?”

before he can answer, she pulls him in by the crook of his elbow and guides him to sit on her desk, pushing her textbooks away.

she lowers his hand, eyes worryingly searching his face.

“how much does it hurt?” she says with a wince.

“it’s not that bad,” he says. it’s true. the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet, but he’s sure he’ll be bruised up and sore tomorrow. “but i fucked up my hand.”

she looks down at him flexing his hand. his knuckles are red and swollen. she holds his hand in hers, her skin warm and soft, and shakes her head.

“shit,” she whispers. “i’ll be right back.”

she rushes out to the bathroom and comes back with paper towels, some damp and some dry. then, she pours him some water from her mini-fridge and puts a bottle of painkillers beside him on the desk.

rafe watches her in awe as she scrambles to help. he’s not sure he’s ever had someone be this worried about him. this determined to make him feel better.

he keeps his hands on his lap as she leans forward, dabbing the damp paper against his skin.

“lay it on me,” she says quietly. “and spare no details.”

rafe already rehearsed this in the car. he hates to lie to her considering the fact that honesty is basically the cornerstone of their friendship. but repeating what that jackass at the bar said is a waste of breath. it’ll just hurt her. he can’t hurt her.

“some guy was talking shit about the game,” he fibs.

“sorry. it was a rough one tonight,” she says. “last thing you needed was that.”

he had a game at a college an hour away tonight, so she had a stream of it playing as she studied. she watches his games whenever she can.

rafe is an amazing player. she never followed or cared this much about the career of any athlete she dated. and she’s not even dating him.

“it was bullshit,” he mutters.

“it was,” she agrees. she slowly runs the dry paper towel over where she moistened his cheek. “how many times did they rebound foul? i actually lost count.”

“exactly,” he says.

“and if i’m out of line, fine,” she continues, “but what the hell was morrow doing? was he tired? he was practically handing them opportunities.”

rafe nods. he laid into eddie morrow, his team’s small forward, for his shitty defensive transitions tonight.

“he told me he had a bad sleep,” rafe scoffs.

“great excuse,” she breathes. she straightens, looking at his cleaned up face.

it gives him an opportunity to stare at her. she’s so casual about it all. how quickly she swept in to clean him up. how much she knows about the game he lives and breathes. how beautiful she is.

how could anyone say anything bad about this woman?

“you’re a little swollen but still pretty, for what it’s worth,” she says with a smile. “i just hope your hand’s okay in time for your next game.”

even if it isn’t, rafe knows that punching someone for shit-talking her was worth it.

“take one if you want,” she tells him, picking up the bottle of painkillers. “get ahead of the pain.”

he pops a painkiller and gulps down the water she poured him.

“you wanna hang out here while i study?” she asks. “my room is way more exciting than some bar.”

she’s being sarcastic, but honestly, hanging out with her does sound like more fun than going out.

“sure,” he says simply. he’s exhausted. and being here feels good.

throughout the evening, rafe lies on her bed, scrolling on his phone while she studies at her desk. every so often, they fall into easy conversation. but it’s no surprise. everything between them is so effortless.

eventually, he starts dozing off and is about to stand to leave, but she tells him he can just pass out in her bed.

as rafe falls into his slumber, smelling her on her pillow, he tiredly mumbles that he wishes he met her sooner. she turns to look at him in surprise, feeling butterflies over his words when she knows she shouldn’t feel that way about her friend. his eyes are already shut.

he falls asleep thinking about how good she smells. she continues to study thinking about how nice is to have him around.

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part One)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff if u squint ig (chan takes care of reader's injuries), some humor toward the end, mentions of blood, violence, mentions that reader is from america and moved to korea, reader doesn't know korean [dialogue in bold is meant to be korean]

Word count: 4,317

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

a/n: this is a part of the TftP universe, which is a Seventeen series!! if you haven't read that, some of this series might not make a lot of sense, but it can still be read on it's own! :) [if you do read TftP: this series also takes place after the events of Jeonghan's part, which is currently still ongoing]

Next | TGWDCW Masterlist

Your face was scratched up, your arms were sore from trying to push the werewolf off of you, and you were pretty sure the warm liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest was blood, but you couldn’t tell where you were bleeding from. You limped your way through the forest, glad to have subdued the werewolf long enough to get away. You were out getting berries when you were attacked, so you only had the tiny pocket knife on you for defense. God, your family was going to have your ass for sure for not being prepared for this.

But you were currently not going toward town, you were going away from it. You just needed a place to hideout and patch up. Maybe you’d look a little better in the morning and your father wouldn’t berate you as hard as he would seeing you in your current state. How could a hunter not be prepared for a werewolf attack? That was the first thing your parents had warned you about when you started hunting alone. They let you in on the fact that werewolves weren’t just mythical monsters made up to scare kids into being good lest they be dragged off into the woods and eaten by one. But that was something you needed to know if you were going to go out hunting. You had to be aware of every creature – mythical or otherwise – that was out there.

Were you a werewolf hunter? ...Sort of. But you still were supposed to be ready to fight back if one attacked. You kept 3 silver bullets on you at all times, and yet…

The house you saw pulled you from your thoughts. It was made out of tree logs and seemed fairly big but not so big that it looked odd for it to be here in the small clearing. It seemed cozy and all of the lights were off, so you figured it must be abandoned. Who in their right mind would live out in the middle of a forest anyway?

You dragged your bum leg toward the house – you were pretty sure you twisted your ankle while running because you really had to prove you’re the worst hunter in the history of hunters that night – and in through an open window. That was a dead giveaway it was abandoned because nobody would just leave their window open like that.

The window brought you into a kitchen, specifically on top of a counter next to a sink. You slid down quietly and crouched down to your hands and knees. It was just precautionary and instinct to hide, so you crawled your way around the large kitchen table and out of the kitchen to a hallway. You saw a door wide open across the hall, seeing a sink and a toilet in there.

Jackpot. The bathroom has to have some medical supplies, right? Even if it was abandoned, maybe the people left some of their stuff there. Maybe they were eaten by bears so their belongings were left untouched. It was best to check for any sort of supplies just in case.

You carefully crawled your way over and through the door. Once inside, you closed the door silently and stood to look through the cabinet behind the mirror. Just as you hoped, there were bandages, peroxide, cotton balls, and other first aid things. You immediately got to work, cleaning off your face of the blood before tending to the small scrapes and cuts that had filled with dirt. You knew cleaning them would sting but it still made your teeth clench and sharply intake a breath.

A few seconds after the small noise you made, the bathroom door was flung open, making you gasp and leap toward the opposite wall. A younger looking guy – he could’ve been a teenager for all you knew – with fluffy brown hair stood in the doorway, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and some loose shorts. His angry, golden eyes slowly shifted to red as he glared at you, and you knew you really fucked yourself over now.

“Shit…” you cursed under your breath, your hand fumbling in your pocket for the only small weapon you had.

Before you could even wrap your fingers around it, the wolf lunged at you, bringing you down to the tiled floor with a thud as your head hit the cool tiles. It hurt but thankfully it wasn’t enough to disorient you. The wolf’s claws grew, pinching at the skin of your arms. You lifted one foot in the space between you and kicked against his abdomen, throwing him off of you. In the process of him being flung away, his claws scraped against your biceps, making you wince slightly. It wasn’t anything too bad but it definitely broke skin. You quickly pushed yourself up and raced to get out of the bathroom, leaping over the wolf on the ground.

Just as you had jumped over him and ran to the open door, he grabbed your bad ankle and tugged you down onto the floor, landing on your stomach but catching yourself with your hands. He dragged you back to him as you tried to dig your nails into the hardwood floor. You knew this is how you would die but you were going to fight the whole time. It’s what you were taught to do.

He roughly flipped you over and straddled you. You punched him straight in his cheek with all the strength you could muster, but you knew your strength was nothing against a werewolf.

He let out a loud growl that had you cowering for a moment. He took that opportunity to claw roughly into your left side, making you cry out in pain now. But he apparently didn’t like how loud you were because he pinned your wrists above your head, and leaned down with his fangs extended, roaring in your face. The sight sent a chill down your spine, and tears pricked your eyes when he dipped his head down to your neck, mouth open wide and fangs extended.

You knew this was it. You had no way to fight back or run away. You weren’t strong enough in this state, and you didn’t have any weapons to help you. In a case like this, it was better to just have a quick death over one that was drawn out.

You squeezed your eyes closed and braced for the end, requesting through clenched teeth, “Just make it quick.”

You knew you had no way to fight back or to run away. This was it. All you could do was wait until it was over. You weren’t backing out of this. You never backed down, and even if you were facing death, it would be no different. The last thing you were doing was dying a coward.

But his weight was suddenly lifted off you, and you heard him hit the wall with a crash. Your eyes flew open to see a man a few inches shorter than the wolf towering over you, but his back was to you and his stance was protective. A wild, defensive growl ripped through his chest, the warning aimed at the wolf that was on you. He turned his head just enough to look back at you before his focus was in front of him again.

When your eyes met, that was when you felt it. The draw that you were told about by your father when he was telling you all about werewolves. He said both parties would feel it, but it was stronger for the wolf. For both, it was almost instantaneous as soon as their eyes landed on their mate. And you felt exactly that.

It felt like being in love, but it was like it was all at once instead of falling slowly. It hit you like a train instead of floating down a river. It felt…exactly like–

“Seungmin. Don’t,” the man’s voice was a low rumble that pulled you from your thoughts and had your blood turning to ice. The threatening tone to it was enough to make a grown man run for the hills, but you were frozen in place, trying to make sense of it all.

You didn’t even notice the other wolves that had rushed down the stairs to see the commotion, golden eyes going from your attacker, to your...mate, to you.

“Chan?” a new voice asked, their deep voice gravely from sleep full of concern. “Did you…?”

He had. He had imprinted on you. A werewolf-hunter-in-training was now the mate of a werewolf.

The stunned silence that followed was short lived when the front door a few yards behind you slammed open, and a familiar, beaten body dragged himself through the door. His golden eyes landed on you before turning red and narrowing.

It was the wolf you had just fought and gotten away from. This was just your shitty luck.

“Minho?” one of the wolves from the stairs recognized him. "Where the hell have you been? It's late."

His eyes just stayed glued on your body on the floor, “You?”

Despite the fact the situation could probably only be made worse by you opening your big mouth, especially when you didn't really understand the language they were speaking, you spoke up against your better judgement, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

-

You were literally carried to your mate’s room, kicking and screaming despite the fact your body was screaming back at you to stop. Your injuries were burning with intensity, and you were sure you were bleeding all over your mate’s naked torso – especially from the cuts in your side. He didn’t seem to care, so neither did you. Then again, you wouldn’t care even if he did fuss about it.

“Put me down!” you demanded, slamming your fists into his bare back. “I’m not going to be your captive!”

The little Korean you knew wasn’t going to help you in this scenario. Your family had moved to Korea about half a decade ago after a freak accident involving the death of your mother, but you didn't pick up on a ton of the language since you didn't interact with other humans that often – speaking wasn’t necessarily important for your line of work. Instead, there were a few words and conversational phrases that you had picked up on in town or from other hunters – mostly about hunting, trading, and buying.

“So you want to go home and get humiliated by your family in front of the rest of the town? Maybe even worse for all I know,” he questioned, though the last part was a bit softer. His voice wasn’t as menacing as it was when he faced his pack brother but he was still definitely annoyed. “Believe me, I don’t find this situation ideal, but I have to protect you. It’s instinct. We both know it.”

You were too stunned to say anything for a moment. You didn’t expect him to respond, let alone understand you. But he replied in perfect English with a thick accent you didn’t recognize. Not many foreigners had moved to your country since before The War, but the numbers had only gone down even more afterwards. Even other Americans had moved away after The War, but your family stayed until grief struck.

“Th-Then–” you slowly began, finally remembering you had to say something otherwise he would win the argument. “Then I’ll run away.”

“I’ll just come find you and bring you back,” he promised with a chuckle. It was weird to you how your heart fluttered at his promise. It was something that never happened before. “No matter how many times you try to escape, I’ll always find you. You know that.”

He finally set you down, but it was on a bed. Once the blood rushed away from your head, you noticed that there were a few curious wolves standing by the open door. Your mate paid them no attention as he went to a corner of his room in search of something.

“Felix,” his voice was sure, like he already knew the person in question was there.

Sure enough, a thinner wolf with blonde hair that flared out around the back of his neck stepped forward. “Yeah?”

“Could you get the bandages and a towel? Jisung, you and Jeongin go collect the herbs, please,” Chan’s voice was soft as he walked over to you with a very large t-shirt. He placed it on the bed beside you and mumbled for you to change before he went over to address his packmates at the door. “The rest of you need to give her space unless you want the angry hunter on your ass.”

He seemed to be over his anger toward the other wolf who attacked you – Seungmin, apparently. And you were also surprised to hear him address another one of the pack in English. 

So maybe Seungmin had understood you before.

“Chan, I’m concerned,” one of them spoke up. “Seungmin and Minho–”

“Keep them as far away from this room as possible,” the alpha stated urgently. “You know how they are, and the last thing I need is another fight. They’ll both take their grudges to the grave.”

“Why was she in here?” another asked, glancing at you from behind the alpha.

Chan just moved to block his view, “Considering I haven’t gotten the chance to ask her after Minho came running at her, I wouldn’t know.”

While Chan spoke to his pack, you took the time to really look at him, and you noticed something about him. Other than the obvious things like his good looks, chiseled jaw, and perfectly carved torso, you took note of various scars that scattered seemingly his entire body. They all seemed to be healed, but there were just so many of them. He had a handful on his face and even more littering his torso, arms, and hands. You saw about half as many on his legs, just off of what you could see from his shorts that were low on his hips. You wondered just what kind of trouble this guy got himself into on a daily basis to have that many scars.

The first one that spoke sighed and ran a hand through his black hair that was messy from sleep. “Alright well...we’ll leave you to it. Let us know if you need anything.”

Chan sighed as well and nodded, his voice softening. “Thank you guys. It means a lot.”

He softly closed the door and turned to look at you, his eyebrows scrunching together when he saw you, “You didn’t change clothes?”

You looked at the shirt he set beside you as if you were looking at food you found disgusting, “Am I supposed to?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I got it for you.”

A knock on the door had him turning away from you again – not before he caught you rolling your eyes – but he called over his shoulder for you to at least remove the bloodied and torn shirt. His broad frame blocked the door from the blonde wolf that had gotten the medical supplies to take care of you, so you peeled the shirt that was stuck to you with sweat, and both wet and dried blood off of you, leaving you in your bra, and beaten and dirty leather pants. Chan closed the door with the supplies in his arms, turning to face you again. You noticed something glint in his golden eyes, almost like they were shifting for a second, but the change was too quick to notice. They were the same gold when he knelt down in front of you, only worry was showing clear in them.

“It’s pretty deep…” he murmured as he examined the large claw marks that tore across your side. “How’s your ankle?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “My ankle?”

“I know it’s injured, you couldn’t even get away from Seungmin,” he chuckled, beginning to mix various herbs together in a bowl. “I’m Chan, by the way. Or Chris, if you want. What’s your name?”

You stayed silent, not even looking at him. Instead, you looked at a spot on the bed to your right, looking away from your wound.

Chan noticed your silence, looked up at you and let out a playful sigh, “Nothing? You don’t have a name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you quizzed, still not looking at him. “Ever heard of ‘stranger danger’? Or do you not encounter that since you live in the woods and only talk to squirrels or something?”

He chuckled, “Is that what you think we do all day? Stay in the middle of nowhere and talk to squirrels?”

“You realize we’re enemies, right?” you pointed out to him suddenly, finally looking down at him. “Why do you even think I’d let you know any personal information?”

“Because I know you feel it, too,” he informed you in a gentle tone, his eyes soft like he was trying to comfort you. “And I know you want to be stubborn about it because of instincts and whatever, but the very least you can do for me is tell me your name to make it slightly easier.”

“Nothing about this mating thing is easy! We’re opposites; we’re supposed to be killing each other but you’re treating my wounds and saving me from your pack – one of which I tried to kill!”

Which was true. Maybe he was nice, sure, but that didn’t mean anything when you had been training for almost a decade to kill his kind and had been force fed all of these narratives that told you you had to hate him and his pack, regardless of if he had saved you from death and was now treating your wounds. You came from a family that would kill them and you if they found out you showed any sort of kindness toward them.

You were missing. The realization suddenly hit you that you wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon, and your father and brother would both get worried and come looking for you. And if they found you, the first thing they’d do is kill every last wolf in this house.

…Why did that thought hurt as much as it did…?

“That’s how this works,” he sighed, sounding and looking tired, pulling you from your thoughts once again. “Do you think I’m happy about this? I’m not. But I can’t fight the instinct to protect my mate, okay? So this is just how it’s gonna be, and, as level-headed as I want to be so I don’t make it worse for you, I suggest you don’t test me.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, whatever. You’re not that scary.”

The low growl resonated in his chest, but it only made you laugh as you looked down at him. He continued to just stare back before he went back to mixing medicine to help your wound, dropping the mating subject, but picking back up on your name, “So, who are you, hunter? I told you my name so it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

You sat back on your hands, letting out a deep sigh and speaking as you let it out, “_____. It’s _____. Happy?”

It was his turn to smile now, glancing up at you through dark lashes as dimples appeared on his cheeks, “Very.”

It was only then that you had realized the door had opened with two wolves holding clear jars of various plants and herbs. Both of them just stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable at best.

“Um…” one of them with round cheeks and shaggy brown hair spoke up timidly, “i-is this a bad time?”

-

Chan was half-surprised to find the entire pack still awake, gathered downstairs in the cramped kitchen. And of course, the topic of conversation was you and their alpha. Jeongin and Jisung, who had mixed up the herbs to help heal your wounds, were giving out all of the information they had gathered from the few minutes they were in the room.

The pack had moved to a tiny cabin quite a few miles away, but they had recently decided to move back to their cozy little hole under the giant tree due to lack of space at this new place they’d found. They were still in the process of packing up to move back to said tree, but they now assumed plans would change since you had quite literally crawled into the picture.

All eyes darted to Chan as he walked in, carding a hand through his hair.

“Is the menace finally asleep?” Minho asked, venom in his voice as he tended to his cut-up arm.

“Yeah, I had Jisung mix something up to get her to sleep,” Chan breathed. His thoughts were running at a million miles an hour but he was trying to hold himself together in front of you despite his own confusion, and conflicting emotions and instincts. “I figured if I helped with the pain myself it might freak her out, and she’s already been through a lot tonight.”

“Her?” Seungmin spat, icing his cheek as he sat in a chair opposite Minho at the table. “I wake up to go pee just to see some hunter in our bathroom! And she’s got a fucking right hook, let me tell you.”

“It’s not like she broke your jaw,” Jeongin reminded him, rolling his eyes. "You're not even gonna bruise."

Seungmin shot him a dirty look and opened his mouth to snap back, but Changbin was faster to speak.

“What’re we supposed to do now, by the way?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin looked almost scared, “this is the first time we’ve…had…a mate in the house. What happens next?”

Jisung snorted, elbowing his brother in the upper arm, “What, are you afraid of girls?”

“No!” Hyunjin glared at him. “We’ve just never had a mate here before! I’d be confused no matter the gender!”

“I meant,” Changbin interrupted, “with moving, taking care of her, sleeping situations – stuff like that.”

“Well, moving is obviously on pause,” Chan sighed, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to organize his thoughts.

Changbin was right, there was a lot to consider now. You were taking Chan’s bedroom, but he was sharing a room with Felix, which meant they both had nowhere to sleep now. There was also the matter of sharing a bathroom, but that was a bridge they’d cross when they got to it, he figured. 

“Um…any way Felix can crash with one of you guys?” he asked once he’d removed his hands from his face. “I’ll just take the couch.”

Minho gave him an incredulous look, “No!” his exclamation sounded almost like a question – a very loud question. “You think we can cram a fourth person in either of our rooms?!”

The house was small, and Chan knew it was already a tight squeeze fitting three grown werewolves to one bedroom. Him and Felix were the only paired roommates just because their bedroom was the smallest. The other two bedrooms weren’t much bigger, but he had to figure out something for Felix.

Jisung could tell Chan was obviously stressed, so he quickly spoke up, “W-we can make it work, though. Don’t worry about it.”

Minho’s head whipped around to look at him like he was insane, “How?!”

The younger wolf shrugged, “We could…share beds?”

Minho’s face was quickly transformed into a smirk as he leaned over in his chair, looking up at Jisung, “You just want an excuse to sleep in my bed.”

“I–”

“I accept.”

Felix made a face as he eyed the two, “I think I’d rather crash in Seungmin’s room.”

“I don’t care who sleeps where or with who,” Chan stated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Everyone just please go to bed now.”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Jeongin began, “but how are we supposed to sleep with her in the house?”

“She is a werewolf hunter,” Felix agreed a bit timidly, not wanting to upset the alpha more than he already was, but he was wary about having you in the same house as them – especially with how small the space was. “Doesn’t that make her our enemy? I don’t want to sound mean, but…she could…kill all of us in our sleep.”

For the nth time that night, Chan let out a deep sigh, “I mean…technically, no. I barely sense any werewolf hunter on her, so she’s not a huge threat. But…she’s definitely trained to be one, I won’t lie. Still, I don’t think she’s a threat to us.”

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to trust her based on vibes?” Seungmin spat.

“She has the training of a werewolf hunter but do any of you even sense werewolf hunter?” he countered. “But…yes, you’re right. She’s not really an ally either. She definitely knows she shouldn’t feel…how she does toward me.”

The room was silent as Chan’s emotions seemed to finally weigh down on them. They could really see the hurt in his eyes when he said that, and despite how angry or nervous they might’ve been, they felt bad for their alpha. They knew what being denied by your mate could do to a werewolf, so not only could they not even imagine the heartbreak he was feeling, but they feared for his health and his life.

“So…” Minho spoke up slowly, “what you’re saying is…I could maybe take her in a rematch?”

A few of them chuckled, and the room felt lighter again. Even Chan cracked a smile and felt thankful for his snarky brother for at least getting him to do that.

“Just go to bed.”

»»————-　　————-««

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[theagstd]

One Night Stand ; 39

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter thirty nine ; wc | 5.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, adored by the peaceful look on your sleeping face. He's seen you asleep countless times, yet this morning feels different—

you're glowing more than ever. He likes to think it's because of him, that he's responsible for both the afterglow and the glow of pregnancy. He's lost track of time, aware only that he's been lying here well past his work hours.

With the tension from your recent fight, he's missed Saturday at the office and hasn't checked his emails, too stressed to focus. He knows he should get up and work, but how can he pull himself away when you're so beautifully asleep on his chest?

his eyes move around your face, taking in your features. the length of your eyelashes, your perfectly sculpted nose and your pouty lips that part just slightly with each quiet breath. your hand rests on his naked chest under your cheek he knows will leave red imprints on your pale skin.

his fingertips reach to tuck the baby hair behind your ears, and slowly he allows himself to do this action. you hum at the contact of his warm skin on your cold face as you push yourself closer and deeper into him, even though that's impossible when you're already so close to him.

he smiles at that, it makes you look like a baby laying on him. he doesn't want to wake you up but his duties call for him, although he doesn't really give a damn about it since he's so caught up in this beautiful dream with you, he must go. "baby.." He whispers, hoping to wake you up nice and easy.

You hum a little, shifting around, your hand searching for something he can't quite figure out. He looks at you, a bit confused, as your fingers keep roaming across his chest. Gently, he rests his hand on your arm, and you grab it, tucking it under your neck like it's the most natural thing.

Jungkook can't help but laugh, totally charmed by how cute you are. "Baby....i've got to go." he murmurs and you whine like a child. "I don't want to leave you too but.. i have to." "stay.." you mumble and he pouts. he wishes he could, he wants to, so badly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." he drapes his arm around you and caresses your naked back. your skin so smooth and soft, he loves touching you, he could do it all day. "promise?" you ask. you're still half asleep, you have no idea what you're mumbling but you know you're being a whiny mess. "I promise, darling."

he places a kiss on your temple, his nose touching yours, and he lets himself stay like that for some time. "when you get back..." " mm?" "can you get me some strawberry tanghulu?" you ask and he frowns as he detaches his face from yours to look at you. "tanghulu?" "mm hmm, I saw them in my dream."

"them?" "them...they were dancing tanghulu's- before you laugh at my face! I don't know why it came to life."  you say, your tone growing sharper, almost defensive. But that only makes Jungkook laugh harder, especially since your voice went up an octave as you tried to sound serious even though you're sleepy.

"alright, i'll get them for you." your eyes flutter slowly as you open them wide to look at him. his galaxy orbs stare at you while he bites on the inside of his cheek, making that dimple you love more visible. you lift your head to see him, a small smile plays on your lips as your eyes slowly drift shut, the exhaustion pulling you back under.

You can barely fight it, wishing you could fast-forward to nightfall and sink into sleep all over again. "you're tired, sleep. I'll be back soon. you won't even feel it." "but i will. you're so warm-" you hug him tighter as you press your head inside his neck.

"and it will be so cold when you leave." you continue. you're being extra clingy and it's something he hasn't really seen. you're fond of touch and being around him but, this clingy? he thinks he's unlocked a different side of you and he loves it so much more. "i know baby. wait for me okay."

you nod as he places a kiss on your forehead and runs his fingers in your hair. "i think it's because i haven't slept well the past two days." he hums and says 'me too.' Jungkook forces himself to get off the bed, he's fully aware that if he spends another minute with you he's not gonna be able to pull away.

he takes a warm shower after he chooses his suit for the day. he walks out of the washroom with a towel draped around him and then puts on his shirt and trousers. you've wrapped your hands around his pillow still dozing off. he oils his hair then proceeds to button up his shirt and do his tie.

He can't take his eyes off you, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner—why he hadn't let you sleep next to him in his bed, in his room. You just look so right here, like you belong. He swears he's never seen anyone look so beautiful. It's like you're the light his darkroom was missing, like you complete it in a way he didn't even know he needed.

he walks over to you while he fastens the buttons on his wrist as he leans closer to your face. "i'm leaving baby. take care okay." "mm hmm." "have your meds and text me if you need anything." "okay.." he places a peck on your nose and smiles as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This morning, Jungkook feels like an entirely new person, and it's all because of you. Arguing with you had drained the life out of him, and only now does he realize how weak he'd been over the past two days. The workload he's facing is intense, he should be feeling stressed and anxious.

Yet, as he sits in the back seat with his driver taking him to the office, he has a foolish grin on his face, replaying memories of last night and how beautiful you look today. he sighs as he leans his head back on the seat and he prepares himself to face the work that waits for him.

He also recalls the visit to your parent's place and makes a mental note to book the tickets this week.

;

You're woken by the restless, uncomfortable movements of your baby, who refuses to let you sleep on your left side. Turning to the right is a struggle too, with the weight of your belly, so you decide to get up. The pillows still carry Jungkook's scent, and for some reason, it makes you giggle like a lovesick girl.

Now and then, you take a small sniff, smiling as you relax. Maybe starting today, you'll see him try to love this baby as much as you do. You really hope he does. you pull yourself out of his soft bed and walk back to your room. you're greeted by Bam who sleeps on the bed, he lifts his head up when he senses you entering and immediately runs over to you.

"ohhh Bammie! i've missed you." you speak to the Doberman who twirls around your feet as if he's meeting you after weeks. "i'll be right back okay." he barks at you and you give him a little pat before you grab your outfit and walk into the washroom.

you freshen up and relax on your couch as Bam sits beside you waiting for his pets. Maya knocks on your door and you give her your brightest smile. "good morning y/n.." "morning Maya!" She walks over and gives you a quick pat on the head, taking a moment to notice the charming changes in your features.

Your smile is wider, your eyes are bright and full of excitement, and your voice is lively and high-pitched. the old woman knows everything has been settled and she couldn't have been happier about it. "I'm starving... could you maybe get me something sweet for breakfast?" you ask, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Absolutely! I'll be right back with something freshly made." Maya's over the moon that you've asked her for something sweet—her specialty. It's been a while since anyone has requested this; her children live far away, and she hasn't seen her grandchildren in a long time.

Living alone, she's thrilled to have someone to cook for again. Feeding people is her passion, and having the chance to prepare a meal for a pregnant woman feels like a true blessing. It's not like Maya hasn't been cooking for you, she makes something for you every day. But it's always savory, a wrap or a sandwich, never anything sweet.

You're finishing up a book, but after so much reading and TV, you're starting to feel restless. You want something fun to do, but you're also too tired to move around much. Your gaze drifts over to the baby clothes still in their plastic bag. You've only bought a few things so far; there's so much more to get, and the thought of going baby shopping again excites you.

Maybe this time Jungkook could come along? Although Hoseok was amazing, too. he was not only curious but also wildly enthusiastic. You realize you haven't texted him since last evening, so you check your phone. Sure enough, he's left you a bunch of messages, mostly asking you about how you're feeling.

he's a good friend, he checks up on you and the baby and always leaves you smiling. Hoseok's a true friend, and you know you should keep him forever. While replying to his texts, your mom's call comes through, so you answer. "Y/N! How are you, darling?"

she greets you warmly. "I'm feeling the best! How are you and Dad?" you reply. "Oh, we're doing well! I was thinking, when are you coming to visit us? You always say 'soon,' but you never tell us when." You hum, then answer, "Probably next week? I want to see you too."

She immediately responds, "Come, then! Oh, and I have something to tell you." You sense she's going to bring up someone. "What now, Mom?" "Jessica, your dad's cousin's daughter—remember her?" You can barely recall, but you go along.

"Yeah, what about her?" "She dropped by with gifts to celebrate her twins! She looks so beautiful in her pregnancy; she's glowing!" You stiffen, rolling your eyes at the thought of what they might say about you. "Wow... I'm so happy for her,"

you respond as she continues to talk about them and how your relatives are doing although you don't really bother about them at all. your responses go as a hum or a yeah or wow without indulging too much with it. you look over at Bam and he tilts his head with his round eyes and you copy him and mouth blah blah blah while patting the dog's body.

Maya walks in with a warm smile, carrying a plate decorated with something so delicious and beautifully presented. "Mom, I'll talk to you later—uh, I've got to catch up on something," you say, waiting until she declines the call.

You sit up, folding your feet underneath you, eagerly waiting for Maya to place the plate on the coffee table. "I hope you enjoy a well-done French toast and berry compote," she says. Your mouth parts in awe as you look at how elegantly she's decorated the plate—almost like a dish for MasterChef. "This looks so stunning! It's too perfect to eat!" you exclaim, marveling at the effort she put into the details.

"This makes me feel like it's Christmas!" you add, pouting in delight. Maya is thrilled by your reaction, thinking the time she spent on this dish was more than worth it. "Enjoy, dear!" she says happily. "Thanks, Maya, you remind me of my late grandmother..."

you whisper the last few words, but the old woman catches on. "She must've loved you so much," she says softly. You sigh, leaning back, memories of your beloved grandmother flooding your mind. She used to make her famous apple cinnamon rolls just for you, even though your mother would scold her for spoiling your teeth.

But you both would do it secretly when your parents were out at work, and it was just the two of you. Maya realizes that you share a special bond with your grandmother and expresses her hope of creating a meaningful connection with you as well.

She knows how deeply Jungkook loves you—she can feel it, understanding how hard it has been for him to open up and love again after years of guarding his heart. But with you, it's different. She can see the love you both share, and she eagerly awaits the day those feelings are fully confessed, believing that when that happens, the house will be filled with joy, warmth, and laughter.

"Oh darling, I'm honored that I remind you of your grandmother," Maya says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more about her and the food she used to make for you. I'm a grandmother too, you know. I love my grandkids, but they live so far away...." You find it sad that many grandchildren don't get to spend time with their grandparents. It feels like an essential part of growing up—the love, care, and cultural heritage that only grandparents can pass on.

It makes you reflect on your own family, realizing with a pang of sadness that your children might miss out on those special experiences once your parents are no longer around since you're settled in Korea and them in Canada. "Maybe I could share those experiences with you," Maya offers gently.

"You're like a child to me, too." Looking at her, you notice how beautiful she is, her gentle features and the way her sagging skin crinkles into a heartwarming smile. Her warmth and the kindness in her voice feel so grandmotherly, exactly what you need in this moment. "Thank you, Maya,"

you respond with a smile. "I'd love that!" she leaves after a moment of silence. You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the beautiful dish and the moment, adding a little heart to the image before posting it on Instagram. You smile at how adorable it looks. Then, you take a bite of the thick brioche French toast—nothing like the typical, thin slices.

The warm berry compote, creamy whipped cream, and delicate dusting of icing sugar send you straight to heaven. The softness of the toast, the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness from the compote, and the airy cream combine in a way that's even better than you expected. It's so delicious,

you know it's something you'll be craving again soon. Jungkook replies to your story and that's something that happened for the first time because you haven't posted anything for a long time.

Jungkook replied to your story ; you're eating all that without me?

you giggle at his reply. Somehow everything feels different today, you know why yet you like to keep it a mystery.

; you left me so you don't get any.

J ; i didn't leave you hun, i was forced to!

; anyway... you did so :(

J ; i like it when you're whiny

; i think i'm coming out of my character, i should go back to being annoying

J ; omfg NO.

he's so cute that he leaves you all giddy. you can't wait for him to come home, you miss him so much that it hurts. Jungkook, on the other hand, has been having a rough day and even weird that his staff gave him a look whenever he made eye contact with them, but every text you send him brings him a sense of calm.

You're his safe haven, the missing piece he didn't know he needed, and he feels it deeply. Work has been a struggle lately, adding to his stress. So, when he hears a knock on his door, he calls out, "Come in," without thinking. His eyes land on the man standing before him, and after a double take, he lets out an angry sigh. "What are you doing he—" "What are these pictures?"

the orange-haired man cuts Jungkook off, tossing an envelope of photos onto his desk. Jungkook grabs it, irritated, and opens it. As he pulls out the pictures, he realizes they're of moments he never knew were captured.

His eyes widen at the photos of him holding you at the picnic, kissing you, and even some from your trip to Paris—the greasy pizza he warned you not to eat, and shots from the business party he attended in France. "You're doing the exact same thing Taehyung was doing, and now it's fine with you?"

Yoongi questions, leaning against the table. Jungkook stares at the photos, alarmed and confused. Who could have taken these secret pictures of you both? Jungkook hadn't fully registered Yoongi's words, but when they finally sank in, his eyes snapped up, seething. "Say that again," he demanded.

Yoongi took a breath and repeated himself. With that, Jungkook rose from his seat, his glare icy. "Don't you dare compare me to that bastard!" "Kook, if you're doing the same thing, what difference is there between you two?" "I don't take advantage of women! You know me! How could you even—"

"How could you think so low of me?" he asked quietly, disappointment thick in his tone. Yoongi smiled bitterly, looking down. "You think I haven't heard the rumors? Don't you think I read the magazines? Think I don't read the magazines or keep up with what you do?" He took in the success surrounding him as he stepped closer to Jungkook.

"If you knew so much about me, why would you hide?" Jungkook shot back. "That's not the point, Jungkook! What matters is what you do now—" "I don't sleep around anymore!" Jungkook yelled, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. Yoongi held his ground, determined not to let this turn into a physical fight.

He knew Jungkook's strength and his temper; so he kept his voice steady, refusing to escalate things. "that's not what the pictures say? i can't believe you got some women pregnant when you were so against t-"

"It's my wife!" Jungkook snapped, the words cutting through the room.

Yoongi's frown deepened, studying Jungkook's expression, searching for any sign of truth in his words. Jungkook exhaled sharply, finally stepping back from Yoongi and sinking into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. He hadn't meant to reveal it like this;

he knew he had to say something, but he hadn't expected it to come out in such a raw, exposed way. the older's lips part as he tries to take it in but he can't. he thinks he may have misheard it. "what?!" he asks and hears jungkook whine. "she's...not my wife but she's my- everything." Jungkook mutters under his breath, never expecting to admit this out loud, especially not to someone he'd looked up to for so long.

Yoongi takes a closer look at the pictures. He can't make out the woman's face clearly, but he notices how her bump grows in each photo. "When... when did this happen? How did you—" "It's... different now. I haven't been with anyone else since," Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi can hardly believe it.

After years of Jungkook being caught up in one scandal after another, he hadn't even realized that phase had come to an end. Spending time away, he'd only seen pictures of Jungkook and some pregnant woman circulating online, and he was worried Jungkook might've been making another mistake. He didn't want to see him go down that road.

"Kook..." Yoongi says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at Jungkook's face, he sees tears brimming in his eyes. "I was... worried when I saw these in the media." Yoongi turns back to the photos, feeling a bit relieved. Your face isn't visible in any of them—hidden by a kiss here, taken from behind there, or perfectly covered by a pizza slice.

Jungkook nods at the older words as he makes a mental note to check social media when he's free. Jungkook hadn't noticed anything was off, even though people in the building had given him strange looks as he walked to his office. "So... how is she?"

Yoongi asks, curious. Jungkook rarely talks about his relationships, so Yoongi wants to know if this is really something serious. Jungkook's face softens, and a faint smile appears as his eyes light up just thinking about you. "She's..." he trails off, mumbling, then gets quiet. Yoongi holds back a smile. "She's the one,"

Jungkook finally says, his voice low but certain. Yoongi takes a seat across from him, waiting for Jungkook to say more, but he doesn't. After a beat, he asks gently, "And... the pregnancy?" Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The way he met you, and how things unfolded—it wasn't exactly a fairy tale.

"i met her at a club..."  Yoongi senses he's touching on a sensitive topic when he notices Jungkook's hesitation, so he keeps his tone light. "How many months along is she?" Jungkook's pulse quickens, panic bubbling up—he doesn't actually know. He has no real details about his child, and that realization brings a wave of anger and sadness.

Yoongi frowns, noticing Jungkook gulp and crack his knuckles. "She's about... six months along," he answers quickly, making it clear he doesn't want more questions, and Yoongi catches the hint. "Great, I'm happy for you both," Yoongi nods, giving Jungkook a steady look before getting to his feet.

"I'll head out, then..." Jungkook nods, and as Yoongi heads to the door, he pauses. "I hope we can catch up again sometime. Start fresh, if you're open to it... things have changed. Maybe we can all be better, too."

He offers a tight smile, then steps out of the room. Jungkook lets out a deep breath, sinking into his chair as he covers his face with his hands. No matter what Yoongi says, he knows he could never go back to them. Things may have changed, but the past is still there, unerasable—and he isn't ready to let it go.

Yoongi's presence stirs up his frustrations, yet there's a part of him that misses seeing him, the familiarity of having him around, even with all the weight of old memories. he may have changed in some ways, but he still wears the same comfortable sweaters and shirts, and he still speaks with his usual wisdom.

Outwardly, nothing seems different, except for the relationship that no longer exists between them. He pauses to breathe, feeling the stress build as worries about his image and the latest rumors churn in his mind. He's especially concerned about what people might be saying about you.

When he picks up his phone and checks Twitter, he sees the same photos Yoongi had left on his desk now posted online, along with captions like:

"Is the CEO of Jeon Industries going to be a father?"

"Is CEO Jeon Jungkook involved in another affair?"

He tosses his phone aside and gulps, his heart sinking. Rumors are one thing, but rumors involving you? That's something he can't stand. He needs to protect you.

;

Your next appointment is in two weeks, marking your eighth month of pregnancy—so close to labor now. You still don't know the baby's gender, but you aren't too curious; whether it's a boy or a girl doesn't really matter to you. All you want is a healthy baby, and you feel confident that will be the case.

As you watch the clock tick, you browse baby clothing websites, filling your cart with favorite outfits to choose from later. You're pretty sure you've added over 250 items by now, but who can resist when everything is so cute? Regardless of gender, you don't plan to stick to traditional colors ;

blue isn't just for boys, and pink isn't only for girls. After all, color doesn't define gender. Bam has been in a playful mood ever since he laid eyes on you. He jumps around, circles you, and constantly licks you, overflowing with affection. Your love for this dog is indescribable, and you can't wait to see the bond that will form between him and your baby.

After Jungkook shared his fears and expressed his desire to try, you're convinced that this has a real chance. You're not alone in this, and neither is your child. If Jungkook wants to make this a family, you're ready to embrace it with open arms, it's what you want, too. So, when you come across videos of dogs bonding with babies, you watch in awe, dreaming of that special connection for your own child and Bam. "aren't you a good boy Bammie?"

The Doberman gets so excited when you call him by the nickname you chose that he practically demands your attention, even while you're already petting him and talking to him. "Oh, you're such a good boy!" you coo, "and me?" just then, you hear Jungkook's voice as he approaches, setting his bag down by the couch.

After shrugging off his coat and washing up, he heads toward you, a warm grin on his face. "What about you?" you tease, noticing how his presence sparks a surge of energy within you. He's home, and he's getting closer, his eyes fixed on you with that look you love. He glances at you sitting comfortably in a fitted vest, your chest and baby bump so prominent, it's a sight he can't get enough of.

He gives Bam a gentle pat, motioning for the dog to move, then settles beside you. "Am I a good boy?" he asks, dimples showing as he bites his lip, watching you with those soft, round eyes. After a long, stressful day, being here with you fills him with the peace he's been craving. "Hmm," you murmur, moving your face closer to his, studying his tired features;

his slightly droopy eyes show his fatigue, yet the way he looks at you and smiles reveals he's still present. "You're okay. Not amazing, but not terrible," you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. His eyes stay locked on your lips as you speak. After last night, Jungkook senses that there's more between you both. "Is that so?" he whispers, leaning in. "Yes..."

you hum, surprised when he softly kisses your lips. The touch relaxes you, like you've waited for it for days, not hours. "I missed you," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Mm-hmm, me too..." you respond, fingers tapping on his smooth skin as you admire him. He gazes at you a moment, then clicks his tongue and looks away, asking,

"Which city do your parents live in?" "Toronto." "Thought so. I'll book the tickets then." You smile and nod, feeling slightly anxious. "For when?" "This Friday sound good?" he asks. "Yes." Jungkook picks up his phone, texting someone as he talks to you. "Let your parents know, then." "Okay..."

Your voice drops, and he notices, turning off his phone to look at you. "Nervous? Not sure what to expect?" he asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed on your bump, fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric. "Hey..." he places a comforting hand over yours. "It'll be alright." You give him a tight smile and nod. "By the way... how far along is she?" he asks suddenly, surprising you.

"She's seven months now—almost eight in two weeks." Jungkook's eyes widen; it hits him just how close you are to the due date. "Wow..." he chuckles, realizing he'd guessed wrong when talking to Yoongi. Curious, you ask, "Why a 'she' now? Last night you called the baby a 'he.' What do you think the gender is?"

Instinctively, you feel it's a girl, but you want to know his thoughts. He hums, thinking aloud as he glances down at your bump, trying to decide. "I think... boy. But—" "But?" you prompt as he hesitates, his hand trembling as he reaches to place it on your bump, only to pull back and place it on your palm instead.

You guide his hand to rest over your bump, holding it there. He hesitates but eventually relaxes into the touch. "But...?" you ask again, watching him. He looks down, then smiles softly. "I want her." You blush at his words, the pink in your cheeks spreading across your face, making him smile.

He loves seeing you like this, and now that he's working on himself and the bond the three of you share, he realizes he's becoming a little obsessed with making you happy. "I want her too..." you murmur. "Looks like we're both on team girl, huh?" he replies, rubbing your bump and lingering, secretly hoping he'll feel a little kick. His gaze stays fixed on your belly, and you sense his wish, so you gently guide his hand lower.

"She's here. Just wait for her," you whisper, and he patiently focuses, waiting to feel something—anything at all. His brow furrows with concentration, but after a while, neither of you feel any movement. "Guess she's not in the mood for a kick," you say softly. He nods, smiling tightly as he pulls his hand away. "Maybe... she's just not ready for me either,"

he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he stands. Feeling a twinge of sadness, you stand as well, grabbing his coat while he picks up his bag, and the two of you head upstairs in silence. He takes a cold shower, then slips on his sweatpants and a black t-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, and using a towel to dry his damp hair. You're sitting on the couch, watching him.

"What?" he asks, catching your gaze before turning to the mirror to apply his skincare. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The bump presses into his back before the rest of you can it's a little awkward, but it works. You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly. He sighs, resting his hand over yours on his waist.  "just had a bad day.." he murmurs. "you can tell me about it, if you want to." Jungkook's heart clenches at how soft you sound like you do not want to intrude but you also want him to know that you're always there for him. he loves the feeling of being cared for and you give him, so much that he feels so lucky. "work is getting stressful."

he says leaving out the rumors and the whole Yoongi mess from you because he does not want to worry you. "it will be fine. work is not work if it isn't stressful." You say this, and he chuckles, nodding.

Your hand rubs his stomach to comfort him, sending a flutter through him. He loves how gently you treat him, like he's someone precious, making him feel like a child in the best way. "Hey, you come here!" he says, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him, his tone playful. You can't help but smile as he relaxes. "I think you're forgetting something..."

he teases, watching you frown in thought. He bites his inner cheek, waiting for you to remember that silly dream you had. "What did I forget?" you ask, a bit lost. He groans, laughing. "Your dancing tanghulu dream!" "Ohhh!" you start to laugh, trying to hold it in, but it escapes, and he chuckles along with you.

"I got them for you," he says. "You did?!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. He nods, leading you downstairs, where a brown paper bag sits on the counter. You open it to find a box with strawberries, grapes, and tomatoes coated in a glistening sugar syrup, skewered on sticks. your eyes sparkle at the fruits in front of you as you grab one and poke it into your mouth.

"careful bear, the edge might hurt you." He leans back against the counter, watching as you savor a mouthful of the crisp, sugar-coated fruits. A soft moan escapes you as you close your eyes, head tilted back in bliss. "My cravings are finally satisfied!" you declare. "Is that so?" he teases. "Mm-hmm, try one!"

You bring a piece to his lips, but he shakes his head, smiling. "Have one!" you insist, nudging him. He wraps his arms around your hips, opening his mouth as you press a strawberry to his lips. He bites into it, and your palm hovers beneath his chin to catch any sugar bits that fall, which you quickly pop into your mouth, licking your fingers. "Good, right?" you ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, satisfied. As you reach for a grape skewer, he gestures for you to stand between his legs, so you press your back to his chest, leaning into him as you munch on the rest of the fruit. Occasionally, you offer him a bite, though you end up eating most of it yourself. "Happy?"

he asks, and you nod eagerly. His heart swells as he watches you, delighted just to see you smile. Gently, he brushes his fingertips along your lips, collecting the little sugar crystals, then pops them into his mouth. When he reaches to get the last bit, you stick out your tongue, licking his finger clean.

His eyes darken slightly, watching you with a smirk. "You're quite the tease." you slowly nod with your lips still wrapping around his finger, your tongue rolling. "you taste good." you say after you let go of his finger with a pop sound. "you know what else tastes good..."

his voice raspy as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "what is?" you whisper innocently, like have no idea what he's gonna say next when you very well know what it is. "my dick, baby." your fingertip traces his chest and abs, you feel his nipple harden at your touch, he bites back a moan. "that i know."

you whisper as you lean closer to him, pressing your lips on his neck. "y/n.." he groans and grips your hips tighter. "yes babe..." the butterflies that he felt when you call him that. "call me that again."

you press your lips to his ear and suck on it as you whisper. "babe.."

"fuck"

"you like that?" you ask as you palm his bulge.

"fucking love it."

next chapter ⇢

[nonranghaes]

heads up: plus size gn!reader who is also insecure! ... and also the dreaded dressing room.

vernon doesn't know how to talk to you. which... he thinks might make him a bad boyfriend sometimes. or, well, to be exact: he worries he's going to mess up when you need him the most. he knows how he should be talking to you. the two of you have discussed that in the past. but this oddly still feels new to him despite the fact it's almost been a year with you, and now he's overthinking a little too much as he sits outside the changing room in this store. he knows that this can be hard for you sometimes. and yet...

and yet he doesn't know how to tell you he thinks you're perfect no matter what you look like. as you are now, and however you'll look in the future, he loves you for you. he thinks there's sonnets in his head and in his heart, but the words get jumbled up before he can think to spin them aloud for you. so when you somberly return to him without anything, he thinks he should be saying something. anything. instead you barely look at him and go to leave the store, heading back into the mall with vernon a few steps behind as he tries to call out to you.

but when he finally catches up to pull you aside, he sees that you're fighting back tears. ah. one of those trips, then. he gets it: you've told him about this before, after all, and he knows how shit fashion sizes can be. so he just guides you somewhere quieter, and he lets you sulk as you need to, and he holds your hand.

"hey." his voice is soft, thumb tracing over your knuckles. you look up from the floor to finally meet his eyes, and he hopes his smile is enough to reassure you, even a little. "i think you're really cool."

and it's silly. but that's the way he first confessed his feelings for you: a flustered "i think you're really cool" followed by him finally asking if you wanted to go out sometime, but not as friends. you'd jokingly asked if this was his way of asking to be enemies (a defense mechanism, apparently: vernon's learned about that, too) before he said it outright that he really likes you. you smile back at him now, squeezing his hand tight.

"i think," you pause to sniffle, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. "i think you're really cool, too."

and it's not that three word phrase he feels in every beat of his heart when he looks at you, when he hears you laugh, when you smile at him... but it's pretty damn close right now. so he says it in a kiss to your temple instead, and hopes that you understand.

(the quiet thank you and kiss to his jaw says that you do.)

[bosbas]

Chapter 2: I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, negative self-talk (Colin bby🥺🤏), a small part of the dialogue is in French

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

April 16, 1816 – And of course, one cannot forget to mention Lady Y/N Montclair, who looked like a vision in her emerald dress at the Danbury Ball last night. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the gentlemen in attendance, and they were practically lining up to engage her in conversation. It was a sight to behold, watching them swoon over her. However, one can hardly blame them, given how effortlessly graceful she was. It appears Lady Montclair will have more than enough gentlemen to choose from this season…

Eloise scoffed and rolled her eyes, the newest Whistledown in hand as she sat on a couch in the tearoom. “My word, if she hadn’t been in Tuscany last season I would think Lady Montclair herself was Lady Whistledown! She’s only been here two days and she’s already been mentioned more than most of the ton.”

Benedict chuckled from his seat across the room, shooting a look at a disgruntled-looking Colin who was trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to Eloise reading Whistledown’s account of the ball. 

“I’d wager that Colin is Whistledown, actually. I’m convinced after today’s column,” Benedict said teasingly, taking a bite out of an apple as he analyzed the sketch in front of him. 

“First of all, I don’t even write like Whistledown, which you would know if you read the letters I sent while I was in Greece,” Colin shot back, irritated. “And second, even if I were, I certainly would not have spent two full pages talking about Lady Montclair. I’m sure I have no idea why Whistledown thought she warranted such a large portion of the column today.” 

The words felt bitter and unpleasant in his mouth, and he regretted them instantly. He knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help his defensive tone after last night. Eloise, catching onto Colin’s tone, cocked her head toward Benedict and raised an eyebrow in confusion.  

“She didn’t want to dance with him,” explained Benedict, sounding highly amused about what was one of the more embarrassing things to happen to Colin. 

Eloise burst out laughing. “No! A woman who didn’t want to dance with Colin? Something must be incredibly wrong in the world! How could she have said no to London’s golden boy? And on his first day back! Shall we call for a medic?”

Colin felt the blood rushing to his face and his cheeks warming, not particularly pleased to have to deal with his sister's teasing today. He knew he was being ridiculous, that much was clear. You were only one person who hadn’t wanted to dance with him. But you had just looked so beautiful, and the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed with your brother was so enchanting, that he fashioned himself half in love with you already. 

It was slightly gut-wrenching to know you didn't feel the same way. He must have done something, Colin reasoned. No one had ever not liked Colin simply because of who he was, and he was more than a little concerned that you seemed to be the first. 

Eloise had been joking, of course, when she called Colin London’s golden boy. But it wasn’t as much of a joke as he would have liked. Anthony was a viscount, and Benedict was a successful artist with a painting in the national gallery, but what did he have to offer? He was just aimlessly traveling the world, documenting his travels in a journal no one would ever read. His own family didn’t even read his letters, for Christ’s sake. He was a third son with no talents, and the only thing he could do was lean into his charm and good nature and hope that people liked him anyway. And he had been relatively successful thus far. Except for with you, it seemed.

Noting Colin’s uncharacteristic grim mood, Eloise briefly panicked, wondering if she had gone too far. With a far softer tone, she added, “Maybe her dance card was full, Colin. It doesn’t mean she didn’t want to dance.”

But Colin shook his head, placing his chin on his hand. “I highly doubt it.”

He knew better than to assume the best. He was remarkably skilled at reading people, but even without that, it had not been difficult to tell that you were full of contempt. For him or someone else, he couldn’t be completely sure, but the way you had been laughing and smiling with everyone except for him was a particularly useful hint. 

Before he could dwell further, Violet entered the tearoom. “We’ll be going to Hyde Park to promenade today, darlings.” It was far easier to coerce her children into doing her bidding when she didn’t give them a choice. 

Ignoring their grumbling, she left the room, calling out over her shoulder, “Be ready in one hour!” 

---

Colin had barely been at the park five minutes before he spotted you, and he drew in a sharp breath. God, it was infuriating. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, chatting pleasantly with your mother, and he wanted to scream. Of course, you looked completely breathtaking. It was exactly what he needed when he was already nervous about approaching you. 

During the carriage ride, he had decided to try to speak to you again. To be your friend, at the very least. Perhaps you did not want him as a suitor, but the thought of someone in the ton actively disliking him was nauseating. 

So, he steeled himself, staring longingly at you. Now was as good a time as any because, for some miraculous reason, there seemed to be no men hounding you at the moment. You had separated yourself from your family slightly, silently observing who he could only assume was one of your older sisters and her husband. 

He made his way over to you, hands fidgeting behind his back nervously. Swallowing down his fear, he cleared his throat as he approached you, a soft smile on his face. 

“Lady Montclair, it’s lovely to see you here today. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot at the ball last night, and I wanted to offer an apology.” Your face was completely blank, not giving anything away, and Colin found himself a tad more nervous than he was when he first walked up to you. “Perhaps we could promenade?” he finished weakly. 

An apology? What on earth was Colin Bridgerton on about? There was no way he’d seen you in the hallway, right? 

“An apology, Mr. Bridgerton? Whatever for?” you asked carefully, not giving anything away. 

Colin cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t quite sure himself, to be honest. “Well, I’m afraid I might have offended you by asking to dance so suddenly. It might have been a bit brash to ask for a dance without a proper introduction first.”

You almost sagged in relief. Your reputation was safe. Though now you seemed irrationally angry, despising Colin for no apparent reason. However, it wasn’t in your nature to make nice with someone who viewed women simply as breeding stock.  

Curtly, you responded, “I can assure you, Mr. Bridgerton, that that did not offend me. Had we been properly introduced, my answer would have been the same.”

“Oh,” he said softly. 

You stared at him blankly, with no hint of warmth in your gaze. Sensing your hostility, he promptly turned away from you, returning to his family. Anger burned in his chest. What the hell was your problem with him? He’d barely spoken two words to you, and you had acted like he had offended your entire bloodline. 

When his anger subsided, Colin had a sobering thought. For the first time in his charmed life, someone simply did not care for him. And the worst part? He hadn’t even caused it. Colin, who prided himself on his charm and wit, found himself in the position of being disliked without cause. 

He suddenly felt very inadequate. It was a foreign feeling, and it settled quite uncomfortably in his chest. If you were determined to hate him, so be it. But to hate him without reason? That, Colin could not agree to.

If you insisted on casting him as the villain in your narrative, then he would play the role with ease. If you wanted a reason to dislike him, then a reason you would have.

You stared after Colin, eyes narrowed. His ability to act like a complete gentleman would have been impressive if it wasn’t so disturbing. 

“Ma grande,” your mother called, coming to your side (My dear). “Did I just see you being rude to Colin Bridgerton? He left fairly quickly,” she scolded gently. 

“Non, maman. Ne t'inquiète pas,” you assured (No, Mom. Don’t worry). Upon seeing her unimpressed look, you switched to English. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Well, you don’t seem to like him very much,” she observed.

You let out a nervous laugh, waving her comment away. “I don’t know him well enough to dislike him, maman!” 

You needed something to distract her from this line of questioning. Your mother knew you well enough to tell when you were lying, and she would be positively furious if she uncovered the real reason why you despised Mr. Bridgerton. 

Fortunately, a distraction arrived by the name of Lord Arthur Barlow. 

“Lord Barlow,” your mother called out excitedly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing my daughter, Y/N Montclair.”

“Lady Montclair,” he smiled warmly, stretching his hand out to you. “A name as lovely as its bearer, I daresay.”

 “Lord Barlow,” you answered shyly, placing your hand in his. You felt your cheeks heating up as he kissed the back of your hand, and you were taken aback. This entirely charming man had disarmed you completely in a matter of seconds. 

"Lord Barlow, the Duke of Monmouth," your mother announced with a flourish, her eyes bright with approval at the budding acquaintance. "Shall we take a turn about the park? I would be delighted to chaperone."

Subtlety was not her specialty. Or perhaps not her priority. Though you couldn’t really be upset with her, given how good-looking the Duke was. He nodded graciously at your mother and placed your hand at the crook of his elbow, smiling down at you as you began to stroll. 

You were so enthralled you barely registered him speaking. “I hear you’ve got a knack for languages, Lady Montclair,” he remarked, prompting your attention.

“Yes, your Grace. I speak five languages, and read Sanskrit,” you answered dutifully. Such accomplishments were no small feat in the circles of the ton, and you knew it put you at an advantage in the marriage mart.

“Most impressive, indeed,” he answered, his gaze thoughtful. “My brother’s wife is from Prussia, and I’m sure she would love a chance to speak in her native tongue.”

The Duke's boldness caught you off guard, the suggestion of speaking with his sister-in-law a surprising turn. "Oh," you murmured, slightly taken aback by his directness.

 “And what else do you like to do?” asked Lord Barlow, smoothly transitioning the conversation. 

A well-prepared response rolled off your tongue, a practiced smile gracing your lips. “I am well-versed in needlepoint, and enjoy playing the pianoforte,” you smiled. It was what was expected of a young woman of your stature, after all.

Lord Barlow nodded appreciatively, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “And how do you find England? I’m certain you’re missing the Tuscan sun,” he said, pushing the conversation to lighter topics. 

The Duke's engaging manner, paired with the approval of your mother, had utterly charmed you. Engaged by his charisma and easy conversation, you found yourself giggling during your conversation, utterly captivated.

Unbeknownst to you, Colin Bridgerton observed

from afar, his gaze sharp with a mixture of irritation and something deeper brewing beneath the surface. Each laugh, each shared glance between you and the Duke, stoked the flames of his simmering displeasure.

—

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[brucewaynehater101]

Can I ask for a littlebit sibling bonding dami-tim? 🥺 I've looked a lot and can't find anything I haven't already read 😢

Hmm.... I'm assuming you'd like a little piece of writing? It's not fluffy in the slightest, but here ya go!

Tw: auditory descriptions of torture, blood, pain, violence

Hurt/comfort, BAMF Tim, angst

----

Damian's family is full of fools. They are competent, skilled fighters and master tacticians. Each one is a superior detective and powerful leader in their own right.

Yet, they are, undoubtedly, fools.

If each of them were asked who of the family is the largest threat, they would answer wrong. They would praise Cass's unfathomable combat prowess, the unending reach of Oracle, the terror Red Hood brings, Batman's plethora of contingency plans, or the charismatic destruction of Dick. To them, these members would be the top contenders.

Damian is not indicating that these family members wouldn't be formidable. He's not even saying they are unworthy to be wary of. No. Only a fucking idiot would dismiss the very real peril of these vigilantes.

The issue lies in how obvious they are. Everyone knows to especially prepare defenses against them. They are terrifying as opponents and ruthless when provoked. All Bats are.

However, Damian knows, as he has always known, that none of them are a threat in the way that Timothy Drake is.

Drake isn't physically imposing nor is he well-known for his ability to decimate his enemies from afar. He's a Bat and he's competent, but he usually upholds a supporting role. He fades to the background and hides in the shadows of his predecessors. He doesn't alarm people nor automatically register as the most dangerous person of the Bats. He can completely decimate his opponents, but he's overlooked in comparison to the others.

It's why he terrifies Damian.

Red Robin is a disregarded, unseen hazard. He meticulously and carefully hides his culpability and capabilities even from allies. He's vicious and cruel, a liar, a con man, and a thief.

And yet he's selfless and kind. He's caring.

He's a complicated headache of a man.

It's been... rough trying to ignore Damian's initial assertion of Drake. The problem lies in the fact that it's not wrong. Red Robin is conniving. Drake could easily make Damian disappear without a single Bat suspecting otherwise.

Trusting Drake is the same as handing Red a sword and knowingly turning his back to him. It's idiotic. And it's expected of the youngest brother.

For years, neither Damian nor Tim could get past this hurdle, this mutual distrust. It simmered between them as they recognized the monster of themselves in the other's eyes. They were similar enough to know better than their family members. To know better than to put aside their fued.

But it started to shift.

Damian can't point to when he stopped wearing weapons around Drake's presence, only that Drake lacked his as well.

Red became a bit more brutal against the goons who hurt Robin, and Robin was callous to those who managed a hit on Red.

One by one, the children who used to bother Damian at school either became passive or they moved. One by one, fewer Gotham socialites whispered scandalous rumors about Timothy Drake.

Titus and Alfred the Cat received gifts and treats left in Damian's room. Drake's apartment walls received a mural.

Damian became Dames. Drake became Timothy.

They still snarled and snipped and wrestled and attacked each other. They couldn't hold a conversation without either one blowing up in anger. They never acknowledged the changes. They didn't seek out each other's presence.

But it continued. Damian now only grumbles when Timothy ruffles his hair. Tim moved an extra desk into his office if Damian wanted to work on WE or school. Tim finds truly abhorrent charcoal portraits of himself, and Damian finds his gifted drawing in picture frames.

They don't like each other and they won't admit to caring about their brother. They just, maybe quite possibly, don't hate the other anymore.

While the Waynes are disappointed the two don't get along, they have noticed the shift. It's enough for the family that the two no longer wish each other harm. After everything, that's fine.

This is why Damian's scream comes as such a shock to everyone but Tim.

It's been an hour. An hour since Robin was captured, his GPS was scrambled, and his com was left untouched. An hour of the entire family desperately scouring the city for their youngest bat.

Thirty-seven minutes ago, Damian woke up.

The Bats were forced to listen to him acknowledge his kidnappers and the sound of flesh being hit as of thirty-four minutes ago.

Damian's ability to muffle his own grunts of pain broke down seventeen minutes prior. He started screaming twelve minutes ago.

Eleven seconds ago, with a voice gritty from the hollering and blood, Damian allowed those who captured him to know they left his com in place. He finally addressed one of the Bats while in the kidnappers' presence.

With a tone threaded with pain, with a slight sob, Damian begs, "Timothy. Please."

All of the Bats but one turn to each other in confusion. In their momentary bewilderment, Red Robin disappears.

Tim was barely holding onto his control. He was trying to continuously remind himself why he operates the way Batman prefers. His grip on his restraint was slipping with every whimper, cry, and shout from his baby brother. Tim was going to function Bruce's way. He was.

Swallowing down his wrath, his uselessness, his grief, and his frustration is a well-known habit. Red knows how to choke down his own feelings and desires in his pursuit of "the greater good." He's aware that Bruce's path, as flawed as it is, is better than the one Tim instinctively knows. The Batman way prevents the type of future that Red is constantly trying to prevent of himself.

So, even though the sounds of Damian's torment is riping into Tim's own mind, Red was going to go about it Bruce's way.

But then Damian asked.

There's nothing in this world, in this fuckkng universe, that could prevent Tim from answering his baby brother.

The Bats couldn't hear the threads snapping from Tim's control, but Tim could. Damian, from wherever he was, could as well.

Between the blood pouring from Robin's nose and forehead, a cruel and wicked smile carved into his face.

Timothy, not Red Robin, was coming for those who harmed his brother. They will not escape. They will not survive past today.

[hurtspideyparker]

Tony can't handle his emotions properly and his love for Peter ends up pushing him away.

Peter gets severely injured on patrol and hides it from Tony, but Karen overrides his command and informs Friday/Tony that Peter is in danger.

Tony flies out and saves Peter's life, but once Peter is in the tower safe and coherent Tony starts yelling at him, furious and upset; Peter doesn't even get a chance to thank him before he's bombarded with the scathing tone, turning him defensive.

The older's anger comes from a place of fear of losing Peter. Tony wasn't allowed to show fear growing up; in front of his father, Obadian, the press, Stark Industries shareholders... and later on it kept him safe in front of his captors, his enemies. Tony was taught with anger, and doesn't know how to express the softness inside him any other way.

His misconstruction of the protectiveness he feels only makes Peter more upset.

"This is why I didn't wanna tell you, you'd just get mad again! Maybe I should just get rid of this stupid suit if you're just gonna keep spying on me all the time."

"You would have been DEAD if Karen wasn't smart enough to override your commands, you would have been dead without me or that suit!"

"I would have figured it out, I always figure it out. I don't wanna depend on you constantly! All I do is bother you, and make you upset. I'm sick of being a chore, like I'm some stupid kid who needs rescuing all the time. When I didn't have you I was fine!"

Tony scoffs, "when you didn't have me you were playing pretend in pajamas. This is why you need training wheels, hell you probably need adult supervision. You're lucky I even let you go out-"

"You're not my dad!"

Tony pauses. He stares at Peter, who's chest pumps furiously from his heavy breathing, a hand holding his side where his bullet wound resides.

The sight of bandages on Peter's young frame makes Tony dizzy. He's reminded once again how close he was to losing Peter today, how much thread would have been cut short from the spindle of his life. He looks so small in the hospital bed, almost frail despite his enhanced muscular body.

His cheeks are stained red from anger. He's pale, too pale, a sheen of sweat on the frowning wrinkles of upset brows.

Bed rest, relaxed environment, taking it easy.

Tony feels sick.

"I can't be here right now," he tells the boy without making eye contact, turning and leaving the room.

The automatic glass doors slide shut behind him with a woosh. He stands still for a second to catch his own breath. What is he thinking, acting like the kid's parent? He's right, he can do whatever he wants. Tony can't ground him, has no right to control him. This isn't his problem.

Tony takes his phone out to inform Peter's Aunt May of what happened and to tell Happy to pick her up. The doctor said Peter needed to stay here for at least a few hours, even with his enhanced healing.

Bed rest, relaxed environment, taking it easy.

Tony glances up through the glass for a moment.

Peter is lying back down, one hand still resting on his wound as if he's holding himself together, the other gripping his own arm with a furious handprint. If he could he'd probably be crossing his arms while huffing and puffing, petulant in his solitude.

His free hand suddenly moves to his face, the back wiping across his eyes and cheeks before his palm brushes up the underside of his nose. His shoulders shake with a sniffle and his hand comes back glistening in the sterile lighting.

He's crying.

Anger bubbles up in Tony again, familiar yet now aimed inwards. If any other person had hurt Peter Tony wouldn't hesitate to tear them a new one.

Maybe that's the problem.

Tony refuses to go back into that room. Not when he does that to Peter, not when his wrath is still bubbling under his skin, cracking the delicate glass that bridges his relationships.

So he leaves Peter alone, and thinks - maybe this is better for both of them.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Could you do the gang (separate) with an s/o who is a Juggalo/Jugallette? Basically an ICP fan who is considered really violent, batshit insane, carries a hatchet, that sorta crazy stuff?

Summary: The outsiders with a juggal(o)(lette)

Warnings: juggalo (?) , bad juggalo writing

Authors note: 60s icp has to be top tier, also juggalo is such a silly word when you think abt it

++ sorry for the matt dillon jumpscare the photo is just too yummy

PONYBOY is very, very scared of you. He hasn't ever talked to you because he was so scared. Your juggalo makeup is so different from what people normally wear that he just doesn't know what to expect from you. He has to work with you for a school project and he learned that yes, you are as crazy as you look,, but in the best way possible. Darry would end him if he ever painted his face like yours so he just watches you do it all the time.

JOHNNY is also totally freaked out about you but only because he has no clue what to expect from you. He's never heard of ICP or a juggalo before so he has no clue what you're thinking. But when he meets you are the lot he's pleasantly surprised. You were kind when you first met him, but as your friendship evolved he was more and more blown away by your wildness. He found it exhilarating and couldn't wait to introduce you to Dallas. You two always find yourselves admiring switch blades. He's entranced by your amazing collection.

SODAPOP is actually pretty into the ICP kind of music. He hasn't heard of ICP yet, but he likes music similar to it. Which is why he isn't all that freaked out by your makeup. And when he hears you playing ICP from your truck, he confidently struts over to you to ask the band name. After that, you both bond over ICP. He doesn't do the facepaint like you, because he knows Darry and Pony would freak, but he helps you with yours all the time. His dream is to go to a concert with you, and that's when he'd do the makeup.

STEVE is also into music like Sodapop, but he actually knew about ICP and was gatekeeping it. He's so excited to finally see another ICP fan. And you two quickly hit it off. He'll let you do juggalo makeup on him, but he takes it off when he leaves your place because he could get fired. He always shares his recorded ICP songs and he plays them on road trips with you. He's also got a switch with both your initials on it.

TWO BIT is totally freaked out, yet intrigued by your looks. He accidentally made a realllyy big move on you when he was drunk, and not like an arm around the shoulder" move but a really big move. He was surprised how it didn't set you off the next day and started talking to you more and more. He is completely head over heels for you and your crazy sense of humor. His only request is that you remove the makeup for his sister.

DARRY wants to stay as far away from you as possible. He thinks it's a bad look for him and that you'd just get into trouble. He wad right about the trouble part but he completely underestimated how well you two would click. He's conflicted because the things that you do could get Pony and Soda taken from him, but he loves you so much. You eventually have to settle on a compromise. He would totally gift you a switch with yours and his initials on it for self defense only!

DALLY thinks your bathing crazy. He hates girls that actually stand a chance to him. Which is why he finds you so conflicting. He thinks what you're doing is so bad ass and hot, but he can't stand not being in control. You to have an on and off, lovers to enemy romance for years, until you both settle together.

[ghostssweetgirl]

I’ve always headcannoned ghost as not wearing his mask when he’s off duty. Idk I just think that he whould want to separate the two, maybe trying to find his identity as Simon back.

Love your storys btw there so *chefs kiss*

Can we get some married headcannons with our beloved ghosty. ❤️❤️❤️

I like to imagine that, too. Or at least that he doesn't wear his mask in the safety of his own home, he probably stays masked out in public (if he's ever in public). And thank you 🥺 I'm so grateful you enjoy my stories!

--

Ghost as a Husband Headcanons

At first, he was scared of marriage. Didn't want to risk anything happening to you, God forbid an enemy got intel of your name and location. He'd walk through the gates of Hell himself if you got hurt.

But, he knew from the moment your relationship started that he did want to marry you- you were the one, and he just knew it.

He's a big softie, you get princess treatment FORREAL. He doesn't let you carry anything heavy AT ALL, even if you are fully capable of doing it. And if he catches you carrying anything too heavy, he's scolding you (playfully).

If you're on a walk and come across a puddle, he's carrying you bridal style over it, no if's, and's, or but's about it.

He carries all of your bags around for you when you're out and about shopping.

And dammit, he will walk around almost every store with you. Even when he's sighing from exhaustion, nothing compares to the smile on your face when you're getting what you wanted.

Dreads going on deployment. Hates knowing you'll be alone even though he's taught you everything you needed to know about self defense. You know where all the guns, knives, and everything you can use as a weapon are in your shared house.

Loves, loves, loves coming back to you. Back home to your home cooked meals and tender environment, a safe place. A safe place to separate Ghost and Simon. Unmasked, and himself around you.

When he's on deployment, he stays up late at night thinking about you. Looking at pictures he has saved of you in his wallet, rubbing over it, cherishing what he gets to return home to. Sometimes Soap barges in his room while he's hunched over the side of the bed staring at the picture. Soap definitely playfully teases him about it.

If he returns home in the middle of the night when you're asleep, he doesn't want to wake you, or try to. He likes to watch you, your perfect face in such an innocent state, peaceful. He'll rub your cheek, soothingly rub your back until your eyes flutter awake.

Oh, how he just loves watching you groggily recognize him, you jump up no matter how tired you are, into his arms, squeezing him so hard. It just feels nice to know that he was missed.

You always cook him a big breakfast the morning after. He'll come up behind you, placing sweet kisses at the back of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist. He shuffles his huge body with you as you move around, causing you to giggle.

"Simon! I can't cook that well with you up on me like that!" you laughed.

"I just missed you s'much, luv," he kissed the back of your head. "Need to be up on you."

And even though he refuses to talk about his missions, his work, you didn't need to know that, he didn't want your perfect little head to worry about it, he loved to hear you ramble about what you did to the house, the garden, things you did with your friends, etc.

Almost cries when you bring out the gifts you got him while he was away, surprised that someone loves him enough to think about him like this.

--

A/N - I swear here lately I'm half asleep working on requests lol, I hope you enjoy these <3

[radiance1]

Linked to this post about Billy, Danny, and Vlad meeting in a dream. Tagging @puppetmaster13u because I think they'd like this!

The world was being invaded, taking the chance that some of the core members of the Justice League were away off-world to take the world when it was down on its defenses.

Billy is fighting and saving as many people as he could along with the rest of the heroes presents, they just had to hold out for reinforcements, which is the last few members of the League off world to rejoin their ranks. Billy may have the magic of gods on his side, but he is severely outnumbered and, being one of the powerhouses, has been targeted consistently over and over and barely given any time to actually rest.

So, there he is, battered, bruised, and overall exhausted but still putting up a decent fight. He tries to lead them away from basically everyone else, attacking as he flew away to a secluded enough area but there's just too many to actually do any notable damage.

So, he pulls out one, final, Shazam.

It works. But it also doesn't.

Whatever damage that lightning did, more just flowed in to replace them and Billy knew that even if he fired off another one, the result would be the same.

This is where he will die.

And he accepted that.

He didn't, but what else was he supposed to do?

So, he screwed his eyes shut and hoped that being ripped apart wouldn't be too painful.

Only, nothing happened for a moment. Then another. And another. Until he finally opened his eyes to see the enemies stopped still in their tracks and, for some reason, everything seemed darker somehow.

They looked up in fear and apprehension, so Billy looked up too.

Something had risen from his shadow.

A being of never-ending black that towered over them, its head tilted at an angle that made Billy cringe with eyes that seemed to see through and at them all at once. Then, it lit up with red, and Billy, the closest to it, could suddenly see the stars upon stars inside of its body.

Like a Christmas tree. Billy thought, chuckling at his own joke. If he was going to die anyways, might as well have a bit of fun, right?

One of the invaders tried to make a dash and grab for him.

Then, the overwhelming sound of silence deafened him. Billy didn't even know that was a thing that could happen but as soon it screamed? Roared? Whatever it did, every other sound just... ceased to exist.

A tendril of darkness wrapped around him, and Billy accepted his fate.

Nothing happened.

Instead, the ones who tried to kill him were killed without mercy. Tendrils of darker yet darker lit up with red and containing stars that looked so much like too many eyes crushed, slashed, stabbed, consumed the waves upon waves of enemies that Billy struggled against from pure number alone.

It was swift, it was deadly, it was even brutally efficient but above all.

It was confusing.

This... being. Whatever it was, wasn't doing anything to him, the red glow it gave off just faded, leaving back the true darkness that was its body and shutting off the stars. It slowly, ever so slowly, shrunk itself down from its towering height, as if wary of another attack coming from somewhere.

Not for itself, but for him.

For Billy.

He didn't know how he could tell that, but somehow, he just did?

It was looking at him, curiously? He thinks? And with the adrenaline fading from his system, being replaced by confusion, it finally sets in just how tired he was. With a yawn forcing itself from his lips and his eyes trying to close on their own when his body apparently decided it was safe enough to just rest.

Before his mind jumpstarted itself as he suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of an invasion, and he need to leave. He tried too, at the very least, but another tendril, and another one, wrapped around him as soon as he tried.

He struggled to get himself out, but nothing he tried worked. He barely had the strength for another Shazam, but he was prepared to try-

A tendril wrapped itself around his mouth.

Well.

That was unfortunate.

Then, the world turned dark.

---

He was dreaming, again. Or at least he thinks he was. Usually, he wasn't aware of it most of the time, but this was also one of those weird dreams he's been having for a while.

There was no ground, there was no sky. There was only the vibrant colors of space with the 'ground' being rolling clouds of all sorts of colors that twinkled with stars and the 'sky' was just an endless expanse filled with constellations.

"Billy." A voice echoed his name, and Billy turned around to face a familiar sight he's always seen inside of his dreams. A large, large merman with scales and flowing hair akin to that of a galaxy that glimmered with stars and a large golden mask floating above his head stared down at him. Eyes filled with both concern and a overwhelming relief. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Um, hey Danny!" Billy greeted, awkwardly waving at the large celestial being that has been occupying his dreams as of late. For some reason, he was a bit embarrassed? He really hopes he didn't see how he was getting jumped actually. "Yea I'm-I'm fine!" He struck a familiar pose that he always did as Shazam and flashed his signature smile as while.

Danny was, unfortunately, not amused.

"Child, you need to rest." Danny said, more like thought because his mouth wasn't moving at all. "You're exhausted, stay here and rest."

"But they need help!" Billy countered, dropping his pose to cross his arms and, well, scowl. He tried to imitate one of Batman's glares, when the celestial above him looked unimpressed he could tell he most likely failed.

"And help they shall receive." Danny inclined his head in a direction, clouds parting to reveal an inky blackness that had something instinctual in Billy's body shy away from it. He glanced down at his feet warily. He didn't even know that was there! "Vlad." Danny called out, and red eyes peered out from the void, before the familiar, towering body of complete and utter darkness rose from the pool of, well, emptiness. It looked at Danny curiously and, yep, Billy was still cringing from the way it angled its neck.

"A piece of him there," Danny said as Vlad shifted around him, wrapping its body around Danny's before resting its head on his shoulder and looking down at Billy too. "Unfortunately, I cannot help you, it is too far for me to make it there myself. But Vlad was able to send a piece of himself to help you and I believe that is more than enough to turn the tides in your favor."

Billy shrunk into himself as Danny's gaze turned into a stern glare, not too dissimilar to the way he's seen parents scolding their children and, what made it even worse, Vlad looked at him and mimicked him! How was he supposed to defend himself against that!?

"So rest." Danny's voice was stern, and he thinks Vlad chimed in as well, if these random feelings basically telling him the same thing were anything to go by. Billy still didn't know how he could tell that. Billy could fight against this; he could say no and try to wake himself up to back out there and help people, but looking at the stern, parental glares he's on the opposite end of he just huffed. "Fine."

---

When Billy woke up, everything seemed okay, thankfully. The sky wasn't filled with fleets anymore, so that was a plus. He was in the aftermath of a battle, corpses strewn about along with rubble and pieces of shattered armor.

Billy blinked.

'Vlad' was wrapped around him, in a protective sort of way he thinks, and Billy let the thought 'Okay, this is actually pretty comfortable' run across his mind. He was still pretty tired, actually, and-

Oh hey, he actually still had his communicator? He thought that fell off or was destroyed the lightning.

Billy turned it. He cringed a bit at the way it flashed with static, before letting out a small sigh of relief when it cleared up. He looked over the messages from -apparently the last few hours (and wasn't that crazy?)- the time he was asleep and slumped against Vlad's form seeing that, yes, nothing bad happened and everyone else was safe.

I'm alive! Was the first message he sent before he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. Instantly, messages exploded and caused a series of dings on his communicator, all of which were asking where he was, if he was okay, and if he knew what that creature that suddenly joined their battle was.

A friend! Was what he typed, muting his communicator while shutting it off. Did that answer anything? Nope! Did Billy feel like clearing that up right now? Also no!

That is a future Billy's problem! Present Billy is going to go back to sleep!

[weebsinstash]

I know you mentioned that you aren't a big fan of pregnancy AU stuff in Hazbin, but hear me out...

Imagine Yandere Valentino getting his Darling pregnant to have a living bargaining chip to make sure she doesn't even try to leave him

New idea. What if the only people who can procreate in Hell are red string soulmates, or, it's like akin to ABO in the sense that not everyone or every combo of people could create a baby.

I was thinking about a yandere Valentino who has Reader as his red string soulmate whatever and you run away after seeing how truly abusive he is to other people, worrying for your own safety, and you're missing for like a straight year before Valentino finds out where you are, and... he's all but KICKING DOWN the door of your apartment, and he's looking at you like a hungry predator ready to pounce on you, cornering you, and

a baby starts crying from the other room and you're SPRINTING to the noise and Valentino finds you defensively holding a little bundle to your chest, growling snarling baring fangs holding a knife whatever at him, and Valentino thinks you adopted some other man's kid, some little imp bastard or something, and he's furious, he's raising his voice, he's getting closer, he's-

making perfect eye contact with a little tiny baby replica of himself as it turns to look at him with its big red eyes and chubby cheeks and fat arms and. It takes Val a few seconds to process it. The baby looks right at him and is whimpering and gurgling, upset, but doesn't cry. The baby boy sneezes and his antenna flip back and forth. He's got lil hearts in his fur and his teeny antenna are already so fluffy.

'Oh but aren't baby moths technically caterpillars--' shut the fuck up, you're demons and also that would be ugly as fuck. You want to give birth to a 20 armed baby or something. No. We save the truly inhuman babies for the human x monster/alien/whatever prompts. Your baby comes out a mini mothperson and it's fluffy and chubby and fucking adorable and also shut up

Val is just, SMITTEN, the narcissism is turned up to 100, he's rapid cycling emotions, "*GASPING* OUR BABY IS SO FUCKING CUTE, WHAT THE FUCK, I WANT TO HOLD HIM" "So I knocked you up good huh 😏" "*already on the phone in a group call with the other Vees and taking 200 pictures* you should see this thing, he looks just like me, can you even believe that, I can already tell he's gonna be so handsome and successful cuz he's MY son" "aw, amorcito did you think you needed to run away to protect our baby because I have so many enemies? You're such a good mama ❤️❤️❤️"

You spend like MONTHS lovingly protecting and sheltering your child until he's a healthy giggling little chubroll and Val has him for like two days and suddenly your baby has his ears pierced with diamonds in them and Valentino is walking around in his high heels and slutty bodysuits with your son in a papoose cuddled into his chest fur. You're holding your sleeping son while Val is beside you and someone sneezes across the room and the baby stirs and here's Valentino, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, MY SON IS SLEEPING", like, NOT ANYMORE YOU DUMB JACKASS???

'Oh gee why is Valentino suddenly funding and producing more erotic films involving moms and breeding and pregnant people and lactation-' you fucking know why and honestly I think it'd be SO FUNNY if he's like, "oh yeah, don't worry, I want you on birth control too mami. I missed fucking you and I kinda wanna do a lot of that without worrying about another little niño or two. At least not for a while :)"

Valentino on the red carpet being his cunty fashionable self while his baby is in a sling and they're both wearing matching outfits. Your baby boy has a tiny iced-up watch that's worth more than the entire building you were living in before his father found you. Your "husband" is posing half-naked with your baby on the cover of Demon Playboy which he owns, "HELL'S HOTTEST NEW DILF" like I COULD NOT WITH THIS MAN

And obviously he's got new kinks now that you're a mom and he absolutely fucks the hell out of you to the point you would get pregnant again without the birth control 😳 valentino on some real "is this the milk you've been feeding my baby with, let me try some" type stuff where he's milking you dry during his bang sesh and your son has to have formula that night because your tank is EMPTY 💀 YOU'RE A RAISIN LIKE THAT SCENE FROM SCOOBY DOO ZOMBIE ISLAND--

God. I've read horror stories about women getting pregnant again even WHILE being on multiple types of birth control so, then you get knocked up again Because Of Course You Would, You're Taking More Creampies Than A Professional Rodeo Clown, and what does Valentino say? "Fuck it, I wanna keep it! I can't just MURK my baby after it beat the odds, that's so ME!" And now you're having twin girls 💀💀💀 who knows, maybe having some daughters would teach Valentino to actually respect women--

I feel like you would wake up one morning and be genuinely hysterical because your baby is missing and you can't get in contact with Valentino and you're freaking out at the absolute highest level and it turned out to be some dumb shit like Val just took your son along with him for THE ENTIRE DAY and didn't think of mentioning it to you because "but you were needing a break and we were bonding, mami. We were having our guy time. I was leaving for work and he looked at me and he SMILED AT ME. What the fuck was i supposed to do, I couldn't just LEAVE HIM, he wanted his papi"

Of course, all these ideas hinge on the concept of Valentino actually caring for his baby. He could still genuinely use it as a tool against you. You're out running errands and suddenly you're getting a call. It's Valentino. He wants you to come home; you left the baby with Kitty so you could go out for a little while for some 'you time' since you've been trapped at home hiding ever since you ran from him before learning you were pregnant. It's not even about you leaving the baby with a nanny; it's about you not being home when Valentino came to visit you and him being uncomfortable not knowing exactly where you are and exactly what you're doing

Well, you got a little smart with him. You've just spent the last about 11 months living through hell with your pregnancy and hiding; you deserve to get some fresh air and walk out on the town and--- in the middle of you lecturing him you can just hear your baby making baby noises through the phone and Valentino just adopts this... tone in his voice, "amorcito, I came to spend time with you and our little frijolito and you're not heeee~ere. You know I can have trouble concentrating when I've had a few drinks and, earlier i dropped my phone on accident and i thought 'oh, it's good i wasn't holding something important"

You're home within 20 minutes and Valentino is cuddling into you while he puts some garbage on TV and pretends not to notice how you're trembling as you hold your son and send the occasional wary glance his father's way...