#So many ways to murder ✨✨✨✨

[vynnyal]

OK, fair warning to the few people I actually managed to convince to try the game??

Rain world does NOT play like hollow knight, and you'll get your butt kicked if you approach it like that.

It's really hard. Like, really hard. Instead of the game literally giving you abilities in the form of power-ups and damage buffs, the only abilities you gain is from what you learn and your own ingenuity. You're a rat from beginning to end. If you just beef your way through it, it's gonna suck and you're gonna be confused and frustrated all the time. But if you pay attention, take it slow, and learn how the ai works and how everything interacts with each other, you can consistently get through and dominate situations you thought were impossible to do so when you first began. Now get out there, kill some lizards, and bully some old computers!

[softservesoymilk]

Bitches be fighting (it’s the head children 😘☺️)

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: I | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 7,213

—  warnings: strong language, mention of death, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of blood, several mentions of abortion, and crying

—  author’s note: here it is the first chapter of this series! <3 i’m actually very excited about this entire universe, i’ve been working on it for a little while already & i’ve been taking my time to write each part 🤗 the beginning is inspired by Jane the Virgin and the Flash as they are both my favorite shows ✨ i hope you’ll enjoy this part & don’t hesitate to let me know what you think 😊  

taglist is closed!

Chapter I: when worlds collide

SERIES MASTERLIST | next

Sitting in your car, you’ve been looking blinkingly at the windshield, hands trembling against the steering wheel. For ten whole minutes, you’ve been frozen like this as if moving would shatter the fragile sense of calm you’ve barely managed to hold together.

Your life is about to drastically change; you know it deep down.  

“The deed is done,” you whisper to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, and your reflection in the rearview mirror catches your eye. You look exhausted, your eyes wide and glistening.

For two years, this moment has been building. You have thoughtfully considered having a child on your own. At first, it was just a random thought that crossed your mind, a curiosity born on one of those quiet, lonely moments where life felt both too much and not enough. Then, you deeply thought about it. The idea rooted itself deep within you, anchoring into something raw and tender: a longing to create a family on your own terms. 

After much research and consideration, you decided to go for it.

Many people couldn’t understand your choice, but honestly, you don’t give two shits about others’ opinions. What did matter to you was the support of close family and friends.

Felix, the man who raised you after your parents were stolen from you, proposed to accompany you to the fertility clinic, but you gently declined his offer. This was something you wanted to do by yourself. Well, you just came alone to be inseminated. Other than that, he has been by your side every step of the way.

He helped you to go through the countless donor profiles, and every document needed for this adventure of yours.

The process was a bit long and emotionally draining. The first steps were more like an evaluation, mostly for the clinic to understand your reasons and ensure you’ve deeply thought about all the aspects. Having a kid alone isn’t just about fulfilling your dreams but also about building a life for a child.

Once you’ve successfully completed those steps, you had to choose the donor. There were a lot of choices; it was like going grocery shopping. You were handed a catalog of potential donors with their medical histories and first names. It felt odd to be choosing the progenitor like this. After going through every profile, one of them stood out.

Following the donor selection, your cycles and hormone levels were tracked. When all was good, you’d get inseminated on your ovulation period, which technically is happening this week.  

So, ten minutes ago, you walked out of the clinic after being artificially knocked up.

If your egg is fertilized, in nine months, you’ll welcome your very much desired baby. A tiny human who will call you mom. You already picked the names, one for a girl, one for a boy. You simply can’t wait to welcome a tiny human in your life. Hopefully, the life of your baby will be better than yours.

You lean your head against the steering wheel, closing your eyes as the ghosts of your past surface.

Twenty years ago, your life was turned upside down when a terrible murderer put an end to your parents’ lives. Nobody ever found him or her; it’s like the person completely vanished into the night. That person left behind a little girl with questions nobody could ever answer and scars nobody could understand.  

Since you didn’t have any family left, you were raised by your father’s best friend, Felix. Over time, he became like a second father to you. Even though you were full of anger when he took you over, he stayed by your side and helped you navigate this sad reality; one where your parents weren’t part of anymore.

His daughter, Lexi is your age. You were already so close, and living under the same roof brought you even closer. She’s your super best friend, almost like a sister today. A smile grows on your face as you think of her. Your life would have been a nightmare without her.

Lexi was the first person to be aware of this desire to become a single mother. She even pushed you to do it as soon as you could, and she has encouraged you like nobody else. She also helped you select a donor; she even made fun of the names of some of them.

Your phone buzzes; the name and picture of Lexi appearing on the screen.

“Hi,” you say when you pick up.

“Soo,” she says. “How did it go?”

“Good, I guess?” you say with clear hesitation. “The doctor just inserted a thin catheter, looked at the screen, and said it was done,” you explain. “Now we just have to wait.”

Waiting is now the worst part, especially since you decided not to take any pregnancy test until the next appointment. Meaning, you have to wait two full weeks.

“Let’s hope the donor’s little swimmers are good ones,” she says.

While you always wanted to have a kid, Lexi never wanted one. You and her are total opposites but that’s what helped create such a strong bond between you. “Yeah, let’s hope for that,” you smile.  

Two weeks later

A couple of days ago, you took a blood test, and now, you’re in the waiting room, patiently waiting for the doctor to call you up.

These past two weeks, you’ve been internally battling to take a pregnancy test. It’s been hard to fight the urge to discover beforehand if you’re expecting or not. On your way to the clinic, your heart was beating extremely fast with nervousness. Even the music playing in the car didn’t seem to calm you down.

Even though you’re extremely nervous, a part of you knows. You can’t explain it, but you feel it deep down. Two nights ago, you were lying in bed completely exhausted after an intense day at work. The rhythm of your heartbeat was rocking you to sleep. Amidst the thrum of your own heart, you swear you could hear a faint, smaller, and quicker rhythm.

You instantly opened your eyes, scanning the room. The sound wasn’t coming from outside. It felt like it was inside you. You stayed perfectly still, listening to that tiny sound. That night, you were rocked to sleep by that new rhythm.

The morning after, as you caught your reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, something felt off. Your brows furrowed as you noticed your own scent was different. It felt like it was mixed with somebody else’s scent, but it wasn’t as strong as yours or any other living human. It was extremely odd.

After a little while, the doctor says your name, and with shaky legs, you walk to her office. Your heart is beating at a very crazy pace, ready to burst at any moment. This is so stressful; it feels like time is moving so slowly.

“Hello yn,” the doctor smiles at you while you’re entering the room. “How have you been feeling?” you now take a seat.

“I’m good, thanks,” you smile back at her.

She sits down at her desk and takes a look at her computer.

“So, did you take any pregnancy test?” she asks.

“No, no,” you answer. “I wanted to keep the surprise for today.”

“I see,” she looks again at her screen before taping on her keyboard.

She seems to quickly read something before her smile widens. Your heart is going completely crazy. It really makes you nervous, and you try to mentally prepare yourself to receive the bad news as well. It’ll definitely break your heart but you’ll try again.  

This entire process is quite expensive, but the payment can be spread out over time rather than made in one shot. With this first payment, you have the right to three attempts. If pregnancy isn’t achieved after those attempts, you’ll have to go through another round and pay for additional attempts.

The doctor mentioned that usually, it takes about three to six attempts to achieve a successful pregnancy. Hopefully, you’ll get pregnant within those first three tries. You’re not entirely sure you’ll be able to afford another round of insemination.   

“Well, it looks like it only took you one try to conceive,” she informs you.

And right there, your heart bursts with joy. There’s indeed a little human being growing inside you. You’ll become a mother in nine months. You can’t believe it.

A little tear runs down your face as you hear the good news. It’s such a relief. You won't have to worry about coming back for another round.

“That’s good news,” you clean the tear on your cheek.

“It is indeed,” she says. “In four weeks more or less, we’ll plan an ultrasound to confirm the embryo’s implantation and check for a heartbeat,” she adds.

Well, you’ll still get worried about that because maybe until there, your baby will not survive. But you need to remain positive. No need to start stressing about it; you promised yourself that you’ll try to remain calm the entirety of the process and pregnancy so you’ll offer a great beginning of life to your baby.

“I’m very hopeful everything will go well because both you and the donor are in good health,” she says.

“Let’s hope for that,” you answer.

You then proceed to schedule the next appointment in four weeks. You can’t hide the immense smile on your face. This is the best news you got today. Nothing else will ever be possible to ruin this day.

When you leave the clinic, you instantly call Lexi.

“I AM PREGNANT!” you scream with excitement.

“Yeeeah,” she screams as well. “I’m going to be an aunty!” she adds.

“I’m so relieved that this first attempt was successful,” you admit.

Once you get inside your car, you touch your belly to caress it.

“That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother,” she says after. “And even more lucky to join our family.”

For sure, your family will extremely love this baby. It’s such a desired baby, and everybody has been so excited.

“They’ll be so loved,” you reply.

“There’s absolutely no doubt,” she says. “Dad will be so happy about this news; he’s been so excited to become a grandpa.”

Felix has expressed lately that he couldn’t wait to welcome a baby and become a granddad. This man has raised you for twenty years, and you consider him as a second father. There’s no doubt that your baby will see him as their grandfather even if, biologically speaking, he isn’t.

When you hang up, you stare into the void for a couple of minutes. In this moment, you wish your parents would be here. They would have been so happy to become grandparents, but they won’t be by your side for this new chapter of your life.

They are also the reason why you’re doing all of this. Since they passed, there’s been a tremendous emptiness inside you that even the love of Felix couldn’t fill in. This void stems mostly from the fact that you were left alone when they were killed. You’ve been feeling so lonely since then.

Throughout your life, you tried to fill it with relationships but they all failed. As far as you can remember, you wanted to follow the traditional path to build a family. However, it never worked out. Then, one day, you saw a brochure about single mothers, and you’ve been thinking about it since then.

You’ve seen motherhood as a role that will fill this emotional void you’ve been carrying for years. Plus, you’ve also seen it as a way to finally control your life. Twenty years ago, someone decided for you what your life would become. This wasn’t fair.

And you also want to give your baby the life you never got. You want to give them a loving family that won’t disappear the second the parents die. Outside of your parents, you didn’t have a family. Based on what Felix told you, your grandparents were against your parents' relationship so they moved into another city to live freely and build a family.

Life hasn’t been fair for you, but you want to make it fair for your baby.

Two weeks later

The clinic called you this morning to urgently come in the afternoon, only making you grow concerned during the day. You kept wondering what the reason for such urgency would be. Did they notice something when they did the blood test? Did they get the wrong blood test? Are you even really pregnant? 

However, you’re a hundred percent sure you’re carrying a life inside you. You haven’t had the ‘normal’ early symptoms yet, but you can feel your baby inside you. The faint heartbeat can still be heard, and there’s still that subtle scent interwoven with yours.

For the past two weeks, you’ve repeatedly inhaled this new scent, almost to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. Most of the time, you wondered if it wasn’t something like blood, sweat, or the smell of your new shampoo. It was definitely an earthly one. One that only a human can possess.

Once inside the clinic, you’re instantly installed in the doctor’s room. Your heart is crazily beating inside your chest; you’re so nervous right now. Seconds later, a man joins you in the room.

At first glance, you’d think he is the CEO of a huge company. He’s fully dressed in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, his hands casually placed in his pants pockets. This man is extremely charismatic; something about him draws you in.  

The man looks at you while frowning, his eyes moving from your eyes to your belly. By reflex, you cover your stomach with your hands. He’s making you uncomfortable with his intense stare.

He has a very strong bestial scent, it predominates his cologne. Everything about him is imposing, even the way his heart beats; it’s so calm while yours is completely erratic. The man’s eyes are clued on you.

The doctor arrives right after and closes the door behind her. Her face is quite serious; she even seems concerned.

“Miss y/l/n,” she takes a seat at her desk. “Mister Jeon,” she looks at the man behind you. “Please take a seat.”

The two of you sit down next to each other with apprehension. You can hear his heart beating a little faster, but he remains extremely calm on the outside.  

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The doctor pauses, giving you time to absorb the gravity of the statement. Her tone is gentle, but at the same time professional.  

The sterile, cold walls of the room seem to close in around you as the doctor’s words pierce through your thoughts.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” your breath is caught in your throat, your hands trembling. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

Your eyes look at the man sitting next to you. All you can see in his eyes is the same disbelief that reflects your own. So, this is your child’s father.  

Many questions cross your mind, but they remain unspoken, lodged in your throat.

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

You desired nothing more than being alone in this adventure; you didn’t want a present father. That was the whole point of a donor. Now, you know the father of your child, and he’d probably like to be present.

For the past months, you went through a series of questions regarding the fact that you’ll raise your child alone. They asked you many times how you’d explain to your child that they don’t have a father. This now feels like a complete waste of time.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment’s costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

Those words seem so heavy and yet, they represent the reality of the choice you now have to face. A knot tightens in your stomach at the thought of undoing something you wished for so long. The baby is now growing inside of you, you’ve got used to falling asleep with their tiny heartbeat. The only thought of not having it anymore breaks your heart beyond comprehension.

Right now, everything—your carefully constructed plans, your hopes, the small life growing inside you—seems to be slipping through your fingers.

Mister Jeon is silent beside you, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He seems as stunned as you, but you can’t help but think that there’s something else there too. Something deeper and darker.

You ignore if he’s thinking the same thing as you, but you can feel it: the strange twist of fate pulling you both into an unknown world, one you both hadn’t planned for.

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

Time seems irrelevant now. There’s a choice you need to make; a choice you didn’t expect to face. You swallow hard, your heart racing inside your chest. Your hands caress your belly through your shirt while you only hear the baby’s fragile heartbeat.

This isn’t supposed to happen. This can’t be real.

Jungkook’s face went pale as the doctor’s words sank in.

“There’s been a mistake,” she starts saying.

Just like you, the room’s white walls feel suffocating, the air thick with a tension he can’t shake. A mistake. His mistake. He tried to avoid this situation. He was supposed to go through surrogacy to guarantee a child that would uphold his lineage. His werewolf lineage, pure and untouched by human blood.

“There was a mix-up with the sample…” the doctor’s words hang up in the air like a death sentence. “We were supposed to inseminate you with the donor sample you selected. We still don’t know how but you got inseminated with Mister Jeon’s sample.”

His eyes quickly look at you, and he notices how much you’re shaking. It seems like you’re in a more devasted state than he is.  

“We truly apologize for our mistake,” she says. “We were totally aware you both wanted to have a child alone.”

Jungkook blinks, trying to absorb what is happening. A human child. Nonetheless, his child. Having children with humans isn’t just a personal choice; it’s a fundamental rule of the werewolf society. The very foundation of his power as the king depends on the purity of his bloodline. To break the rule is to risk everything.

He knows better than anyone what happens to the werewolf-human hybrid kids together with the parents. They are killed by the pack. Being a king doesn’t make him the exception to the rule. If this pregnancy goes to full term, not only will he be killed, but the baby and the lady sitting next to him will too.  

You didn’t ask for any of this. You don’t deserve to die because of a mistake. 

His gaze filled with frustration and panic moves toward you once more as his pulse quickens. He wanted control over the situation. He never intended to father a hybrid child. And now, not only is he involved in this pregnancy, but the child is going to carry his blood mixed with human genetics. God only knows what can happen to this kid, genetically speaking.

“We understand the nature of this situation. We will refund the totality of the treatment costs. We can also terminate the pregnancy if you both wish.”

‘This can’t be happening’, he thinks.

His eyes move back to the doctors, his hands clenched into fists. The thought of the entire werewolf community learning of this is unbearable. And what is his mother going to think of this?

She was the first person to support him in this surrogacy journey. She knew how important it was for him to have a child as soon as possible because he’d been struggling to find someone with whom he’d mate. Having an heir is the first thing a king should do to ensure the legacy.

Now, he’s about to have a child with a human. That’s not possible. This child won’t have a pure bloodline, this child can’t ever be an heir.     

“You still have some time to decide, of course,” the doctor’s voice is still very soft.

The idea of termination seems dreadful, but the possibility of a hybrid child heir seems even worse. His responsibility as king, and the traditions that have been in place for centuries don’t allow for such breach. To raise a kid with human blood would mean instant disgrace, not only for him but for his entire family. How could he even be respected after this?

His entire world is slipping through his fingers. His position as king is now in jeopardy. This baby will destabilize the entire werewolf community. Nobody will respect him and will only see him as weak. Weak for having a human child.

There’s no going back. His mind tries to find a solution to fix this, or how to undo this. The idea of raising a child with a human—no matter how much it is his responsibility—is unthinkable. He never desired this and hasn’t even considered it. He has been so focused on maintaining his bloodline that the idea of a mistake happening never crossed his mind.

Your presence beside him destabilizes him beyond comprehension. He can see the confusion in your eyes mixed with disbelief. You can’t comprehend the extension of this entire problem. You can’t even comprehend the danger of mixing bloodlines, because you aren’t a werewolf.

Jungkook stands in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. Terminating this pregnancy isn’t something he desires, but having a child with a human is simply impossible. His heart beats too crazily, and he can hear yours beating just as fast. His heart and duty are pulling him in two different directions.

Finally, his eyes meet yours. His voice is soft but it carries a heavy weight. “We need to decide. This affects both of us.”

After what felt like an eternity, you both leave the room completely shaken up by the news you just got. How could this be happening?

As you’re both walking in the clinic in the parking lot’s direction, none of you dares to speak. You’re a complete stranger to Jungkook. All he knows is that you’re a human carrying his child. 

“I can’t have that child,” he finally breaks the silence.

His words cause you to stop.

“It’s too early for me to consider terminating this pregnancy,” you admit. “I need time.”

Jungkook understands your perspective. It’s not a decision you lightly take, especially if you’ve come to this clinic to have a child. It’d be completely absurd to abort after going through this entire process.

“Of course,” he says. “But I want you to know my point of view.”

You nod, understanding his perspective as well. This is such a horrible situation. Jungkook wanted to have an heir while you simply wanted to have a child on your own. On top of that, he doesn’t look like the donor you selected.

“So if I decide to keep it, would you be out?” you ask.

Jungkook considers your words. There’s a possibility that the baby could still exist, but he wouldn’t be part of their life. He’d still be losing because he wants a child, but at least this way, his position wouldn’t be jeopardized, and no one would get hurt or killed.  

“It’s possible,” he honestly answers.

You nod once more. Even though he decides not to be part of his child’s life, he’d still know that he has a kid somewhere. He wouldn’t have any trouble finding you; he already knows your smell, and he has the means to find you.

“Okay,” you say.

Jungkook watches you take a pen and paper from your purse before writing something.

“This is my phone number,” you hand him the piece of paper. “In case you change your mind or take a decision.”

The man takes the piece of paper while you give him a small smile. You start walking away, his eyes following you until you disappear inside a car.

In this situation, he definitely would like to ask his mother for advice, but he can’t. He already knows the answer she’ll give him. ‘This baby can’t exist.’ And she’s right, but he can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy. It’s your body after all.

In the eventuality that you decide to proceed with the pregnancy, he guesses he’ll let you be a mother alone and pretend like this kid doesn’t exist.

You’ve spent the last two days crying in bed. The conversation with the doctor and this mysterious Mister Jeon has been playing over and over in your head. You can still picture everything so clearly; the white walls of the doctor’s room, the apologies from the doctor, and Mister Jeon’s piercing gaze.

‘There’s been a mistake,’ ‘There was a mix-up with the sample,’ the words still echo in your mind.

You’ve been trying to make sense of how such a monumental mistake has happened. But nothing seems to make sense. The clinic did this; the clinic took control over your decision. This chapter of your life was about you gaining control, but once more, someone decided for you. It’s been making you angry.

You’re furious at the clinic and their negligence. You trusted them with your project of building your own family. However, they decided otherwise.  

But underneath that anger, there’s another fury; one directed to yourself. You were so focused on having a child on your own terms that you didn’t stop to consider the what-ifs. You didn’t stop to consider that something might go wrong. And now, you are here.    

You’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours now, your mind trying to find a solution. Do you keep this baby? Do you terminate the pregnancy?

This choice feels impossible. It feels like no matter what your life will completely change.  

But deep down, you somehow feel some kind of relief. Because when Mister Jeon—this intense and charismatic man—said there was a possibility he’d walk away, that he’d leave you to raise this child alone, you felt lighter.

His potential absence is appealing. It aligns with your original choice, to be a single mother. A choice where your child is yours, and yours alone. But then, there’s also a possibility where he stays, or that he comes back later. What would happen then?

You press your hands against your face while a guttural growl leaves your lips. This is so damn frustrating. This should be simple. Because now, you’re left wondering what you want. Do you want to walk away from this and stick to the original plan? Or do you want to embrace this chaos, and see where this might lead?

Your hands slide down to your stomach, caressing it while you hear again the tiny heartbeat. This sound comforts you which makes you close your eyes.

For now, you don’t have any answers to all your questions. You’re not even sure you’ll have them tomorrow. For now, you’ll let yourself breathe. You’ll let yourself feel. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the answers.  

The sound of your phone ringing pushes you out of your own thoughts, informing you that you received a message. You sit on your bed before grabbing the phone on the nightstand. You received a message from an unknown number. By curiosity, you unlock your phone to read it. To your surprise, it’s the famous and mysterious Mister Jeon.  

From unknown: hi miss y/l/n, this is jeon jungkook, the father of your child. i’d like to meet you to discuss the matter. would you be free tonight?

Your heart hammers inside your chest, ready to burst at any second. He contacted you sooner than expected. You were thinking that you wouldn’t hear anything from him for at least a week. You thought you’d have more time to make a decision before meeting him. Now, it seems you don’t, and that you’ll have a very interesting conversation with him tonight.

With shaky hands, you start typing your answer.

To unknown: hello mister jeon, we could meet tonight

When you press ‘send’, you stare at the conversation, waiting for an answer. Mister Jeon responds instantly to your message, proposing to meet in a town square. You accept the suggestion and quickly go to your clothes cupboard to pick up an outfit.

The man seems very impressive, and you want to be presentable. He’s after all the progenitor of the life growing inside you.

A couple of hours later, you take the road to the meeting point. Surprisingly, you’ve remained calm for the entire drive. Driving is actually the only thing able to calm your tormented soul. Whenever you go through something very intense, you just drive to clear your mind.

However, since this pregnancy thing, even driving hasn’t been able to help you out. You tried to drive yesterday, but it only made things worse. So it definitely surprises you that you’ve been able to clear your mind before meeting Mister Jeon.

When you arrive, he’s already there waiting for you. He’s not wearing a suit, quite the contrary. His outfit is only made of a grey sweater with a blue pair of jeans. His hair isn’t perfectly pushed back as it was two days ago. It feels like you’re meeting a completely different person.

When he sees you, he stands up. As he does so, you notice he holds a box in his right hand. It’s a small one, but it still intrigues you.

“Good evening, miss y/l/n,” he says.

“Good evening, mister Jeon,” you say back.

His presence is still very imposing, but the fact that he isn’t wearing a suit anymore changes it a bit. He seems more approachable than he was in the clinic.

“Please call me Jungkook,” he offers you a small smile.

It’s the first time you see him smiling, and it feels like a very warm one. Beneath it all and in the midst of the city noise, you can perceive his heartbeat. It’s quite rapid which makes you tilt your head. Is he nervous?

“You can call me yn as well,” you smile back at him.  

“I’ve brought you a box with some pastries,” he hands you the box. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Your smile grows wider at his simple but heartwarming gesture. This wasn’t expected, but it lightens the mood. Jungkook seems to be a nice person which contrasts with the cold and unreadable person he seemed two days ago.

“Thanks,” you say while grabbing the little box. “You didn’t need to,” your eyes look up at him.

After that, you both sit down on the bench he was on before you arrived. By the way he rubs his hands on his tights, you can tell that he’s a bit nervous. You try not to overanalyze him, because you know your mind will go crazy, full of questions.

“What is happening is really crazy,” he admits with obvious nervousness. “I never imagined things would go this way,” you nod.

Jungkook looks everywhere, except at you. It seems like he isn’t brave enough to face you, almost like a teenager confessing his love.

“As I told you two days ago, I can’t have this child,” he finally speaks. “I really would love to, but I’d put the three of us in danger.”

Your heart starts beating rapidly. What does he mean by ‘putting you in danger’? Does he come from a crazy family? Is he part of the mafia? This is scaring the hell out of you.

“We didn’t know each other up until two days ago, and you don’t deserve to be put in danger because of a stupid mistake the clinic did,” he seems angry when he mentions the mistake. “But I can’t force you to terminate the pregnancy, it’s your body, and it was also your wish to have a child. I can’t take that away from you.”

It kind of surprises you how respectful he is. Any other man in his position could have forced or paid you to put an end to this pregnancy. It’s really admirable.

“In case you want to keep going with it, I just want you to know that I’ll step away, and I will never come back to reclaim a role I refused from the beginning.”

You wonder what the reasons behind his decision could be. This man desired to have a child but is now refusing to have one with you because of a mistake.

“To be honest with you, I don’t know what to do,” you admit.

His piercing eyes finally look at you. For a split second, you can swear that they were red. Red like blood. This destabilizes you, and you furrow your eyebrows. You’re not sure if you’re being delirious or if this is real.

“I wanted to become a mother, but not like this,” you continue, still destabilized by what you just saw. “So it leaves me wondering what I should do. But if you walk away, I’ll be more tempted to keep the baby because, in the end, it’ll go as I planned.”

In an unexplainable way, this man puts you at ease. It feels like you can confess how you truly feel about this situation without being judged by him. This man exudes serenity which draws you even more to him.

“I get that,” he says.

For a brief moment, you only look at him while your heart peacefully beats in your chest. His dark eyes stare right into your soul, and it feels like the world completely stopped. There’s just the two of you. But Jungkook breaks the contact, looking in another direction.

“If you decide to keep the child and need any financial help, I can give it to you,” he speaks.

This man definitely seems like a good guy, and you wonder even more why he’s walking away from this.

“I won’t,” you answer. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t have any means to take care of the baby.”

For sure you need financial stability to be a single mother, and you would have never embarked on this adventure without having it.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his fluffy hair, avoiding still your gaze. “Can I ask why you want to become a single mom?”

The question catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting this man—this stranger—to be interested in you.

“I didn’t have an easy life and I grew up without my parents,” you confess. “Motherhood was something I aspired to have in my life since I’m very young, and I’ve desired to give to my child everything I didn’t have. No matter if it was with someone or alone.”

Your eyes shift from Jungkook to the square full of people. It’s never easy to express out loud and to a complete stranger why you embarked on this adventure. Mentioning your parents is actually never easy; even after all this time.

Suddenly, you feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you in complete silence. For once in your life, people’s heartbeats and scents don’t suffocate you. You can hear and smell them, but it’s like it doesn’t matter.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve had those developed skills. You can hear stuff from afar, and you can strongly smell people’s natural body’s scent. Since it’s kind of ‘normal’ to you, you got used to it; but sometimes, and especially when you’re in the middle of heavy crowds, it suffocates you. It becomes simply too much.

This is something you never told anyone, too scared to be judged. Undoubtedly, people would say you’ve gone crazy due to the trauma of losing your parents. Not even Felix or Lexi knows about it. They just think you’re agoraphobic.

However, lately, you’ve been trying to go to some crowded place to overcome this suffocating feeling. You ignore why you’ve been doing it, but you’ve been doing it. It’s still too much, but today, next to this complete stranger, it doesn’t feel like it.

“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him to offer him a little smile.

“Thanks,” you mumble. “Can I also ask you why you’re doing this?” you dare to ask.

Jungkook nods before looking away once more. It definitely looks like it’s hard for him to hold your gaze.

“In my world,” he starts saying. “I have heavy responsibilities, and having a child is one of them. But I can’t have one with anybody. I’m very limited in who is the biological mother so that’s why I can’t have one with you.”

You almost feel offended by his words. In which kind of world can’t you be the mother of his child? It’s completely crazy!

“Oh,” you simply say.

“You could have been the surrogate…” you can hear some kind of chuckle. “But never the progenitor.”

“It’s seems like a tough world.”

His eyes look again at you; you can see that he seems to hesitate with the answer.

“It isn’t,” he finally says. “But it is with me.”

Obviously, he carefully chose his words.

“Well, I hope you’ll find the right mother for your child,” you offer him once more a little smile.

“Thanks,” he smiles back at you.

The two of you look back again at the people walking in the town square. They are walking around you, ignoring totally what you’re going through, what tough decision you have to make. They ignore everything about you, just as you ignore everything about them…  

“I’m sorry about all of this,” he adds.

“It’s not your fault,” you answer. “It’s the clinic’s.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the people walking in front of you. His heart is racing and piercing through your ears. He’s even more nervous than he was before, and it concerns you a bit. But you don’t say anything, too afraid to scare him off if you reveal you can hear his heartbeat.  

“Yn…” he starts. “There’s something you need to know,” his voice is deep and low at the same time. It’s so low that it almost drowns out by the distant chatter of people passing by.

You turn to look at him, your brow furrowing. “Okay,” you whisper.  

Jungkook takes a deep breath, his jaw tightening before he exhales. His eyes don’t meet yours immediately, but when he does, there’s an intensity that makes your stomach twist.

“When I said my world is different,” he swallows with difficulty. “I don’t mean it in a metaphorical sense. My world, my reality is not the same as yours.”

You frown even more, confusion plastered all over your face. You’re definitely incredibly confused. How could his world be different than yours? You live on the same planet, and breathe the same air. How could it be not the same?  

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gets closer, his voice dropping even lower, barely audible. However, you still hear it perfectly.

“I am not entirely human, yn.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You stare at him while waiting for him to elaborate. However, Jungkook just stares at you, waiting for your reaction.

“What do you mean by ‘not entirely human’?” you tilt your head.

For a couple of seconds, he doesn’t speak, almost as if he’s scared to reveal his true nature to you.

“I’m a werewolf.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. It leaves you wondering if this man is of sound mind. Right now, you’re slightly concerned about his mental health, and the future of your child, if you keep them.

Your first reaction is to laugh, dismissing his words as if it is some kind of twisted joke. But the look on his face tells you that he’s deadly serious. This isn’t a joke.

“A werewolf?” you repeat to make sure you hear it well.

Jungkook nods. He looks tense and he maintains his deep glance on you.

“It’s why I can’t have this child,” he starts to explain. “In my world, bloodlines matter. Werewolf bloodlines are sacred, and the continuation of my lineage isn’t just about having a child. It’s about having the right child with the right kind of mother.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like a tidal wave. You stand up, your hands running through your hair. Your mind is spinning, and your pulse thunders in your ears. This is something you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today.

Werewolves? You’re carrying the child of a werewolf?

This sounds like it comes straight from a fantasy movie.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you whisper to yourself but Jungkook hears it.  

“I didn’t want you to be dragged into this world, but you deserve the truth.”

You keep your back turned to him while you cross your arms against your chest.

“This is something you need to consider if you decide to keep the baby.”

At his words, you freeze. Instinctively, your hands down move to your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes follow your hands.

“Is this…” your voice trembles. “Is this a viable child?”

If you want to keep going with this pregnancy, you need to know if this baby can survive.

“There wouldn’t be any reason why this child wouldn’t survive because of mixed blood,” he stands up and gets close to you. “But as they grow up, they’ll develop werewolf abilities. And, one day, they’ll probably turn into one. It’s pretty unpredictable, though. There’s never been a human-werewolf hybrid before.”

Damn, this is leaving you speechless. How can this be real? Werewolves are supposed to exist in movies, not in real life.   

“This is insane,” you rub your hands on your face. “This can’t be real.”

Jungkook steps closer. His presence is grounding but nonetheless overwhelming.  

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you demand, your voice filled with panic.  

Before you can blink, he gets even closer to you. He’s in front of you in an instant, his hand gently grabbing yours. Your eyes look down at his hand as you notice it changing. His fingers elongate, his nails sharpen into claws, and the texture of his skin turns into something more beastly. Slowly, your eyes look up, and what you see completely freezes your body.  His eyes glow a deep, predatory red, and there’s something undeniably wolfish about them.

You take a step back while setting your hand free. As you do so, Jungkook shifts back, his hand returns to its normal form, and his eyes fade back to a human form. The transformation is so quick that it almost feels like you imagined it.

“So what happens now?” you ask.

Jungkook’s gaze softens at your words.

“That depends on you, yn.”

Please note that the taglist is closed

[numbersq-blog]

It doesn’t count if they’re already technically dead

Young justice and captain marvel are trapped in a ancient magical cube with the only way to escape being a human sacrifice.

Impulse is running all around the cube panicking, Nightwing and Robin (Tim) are inspecting the wall hoping to find a exit, Zatanna tired using her magic to break through the wall, both Superboy and Wonder Girl tried punching the wall.

Impulse: “What are we going to do!!?!?!”

Nightwing: “stay calm, I managed to hit my emergency distress signal before all our devices stopped working. We just have to wait rest of the team to come out and get us out”

Captain Marvel: “No”

Everyone turns to look at him, Zatanna’s face has turned pale.

Captain Marvel: “ it requires a human sacrifice, the spell that trap us is old but strong.

Wonder Girl: “which means?” *her voice comes out in a tense, whisper, most likely to scared for the answer

Captain Marvel: “There is no work around, we must follow the rules”

The room grows tense

Nightwing grabs one of his escrima sticks

Nightwing: “what are you getting at”

.

.

.

Superboy: “let’s calm down-“

Cap: “Good thing my pocket dimension bag is still working!”

Marvel smiles and pulls out a bag out of thin air.

Robin: “wha-“

Marvel opens up the bag, turns the bag upside down and starts shaking

A confuse and sacred Hitler falls out.

WO BIN ICH?!? (Where am I)

Nightwing: “is-is that…..Hitler?”

Cap: “Yes”

Robin: “…………….WHY”

Cap: “ I don’t know because he was born?!”

Robin: “ NO, WHY DO YOU HAVE HITLER”

WIE VIELE JAHRE IST ES HER!?!? (how many years has it been?)

Cap: “Stille (hush), in case I was ever in the situation where I need a human sacrifice”

He says,as it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Zatanna: “why”

WG: “yeah Cap, this seems kinda messed up”

Neither of them could take their eyes off Hitler.

Cap: “first, this is Hitler, anything bad that happens to Hitler after 1933, he deserve it, second, as stated before in case I was ever in a situat-“

Robin: “NO, SHE MEANS WHY DO YOU HAVE HITLER??!?!!!?”

Impulse: “yeah Cap, how and why do you have Hitler, didn’t he |<i|| himself”

Nightwing: “yeah Cap, how did you get him”

Cap: “ well it’s actually a pretty funny story-“

SB: “I don’t believe that”

Cap: “ first I was in history class learned about him, fast-forward, junior got trapped in one of these human sacrifices-we got him out safe- and it sparked the ✨iiiiddeaaa~~✨

Robin: “please don’t”

Cap: “I go back in time, grab evil people, who were gonna die soon, keep them in the bag till they’re needed and after am done with them I send them back.”

YJ:……

Impulse:”nothing in there was funny”

Cap: “FINE WHATEVER, lets just kill the guy”

“so viele Tage, so viele Jahre, so viele Sekunden” (So many days, so many years, so many seconds)

Nightwing who understands German, squint his eyes

Nightwing: “wait a sec, Marvel was he conscious the whole time he was in there”

Cap: “ummmmmmmmmmmmm”

WG: “oh my gods”

SB: “Marvel!”

Cap: “I don’t know, they all come out, screaming or looking confused or terrified, but I usually kill them by now”

Zatanna: “terrified of what?”

Cap: “I DON’T KNOW”

Robin: “Marvel! How long has he been in there!”

Cap: “ I don’t know, bag time works differently from earth time”

YJ: “MARVEL!”

Cap: “WHAT, WHY AM I GETTING YELLED AT, YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES FEELING BAD FOR HITLER, I know he technically didn’t say to start killing the Jews. He only said to put them in camps, but still and he did whole lot of other bad things!”

WG: “ WE ARE NOT FEELING BAD FOR HITLER!”

Robin: “WE’RE UPSET BECAUSE THIS IS A MESSED UP SYSTEM!”

Cap: “HOW IS IT A MESSED UP SYSTEM, THEY WERE BAD PEOPLE, THEY WERE ALREADY GOING TO DIED AND THIS GUY CHOSE TO TAKE HIS LIFE”

“endlos schwebend”(floating endlessly)

Cap: “SHUT UP”

SB: “I get the idea, but if their consci-“

Cap: “HE MURDER PEOPLE!!

Cap: “……..”

Nightwing: “………”

Robin: “………”

Zatanna: “………”

WG: “………”

Impulse: “………”

SB: “………”

WG: “Cap, please”

Cap: “fine we’re send him back and die”

Marvel opens the bad, ready to shove hitler back

“NEIN, DER TOD IST EINE OPTION ALS DER ENDLOSEN ABGRUND” (no, this is a kinder option than the endless abyss”

Marvel turns and looks Nightwing

Nightwing; *sign* “ let’s get it over with”

Cap: “YES”

————————————————————————

Batman and the rest of young justice

Batman: “Nightwing, we got your distressed signal what happened?”

Everyone but Marvel looks exhausted and a bit traumatized

Beast Boy: “what happened?”

Nightwing: “Don’t ask”

Used google translate

[saessenach]

Thinking many thoughts about Miss Andarateia Cantori tonight because what do you mean we get to be in her house for the entire game, in which she and her boyfriend/partner-in-crime run a gambling den, assassin guild ANd find the time to argue with the public administration while opposing a military occupation?? who does it like her??

Joke aside, I think she's an incredibly fun character, and I'm really happy that hers was the lens through which we saw the Crows this game. Whenever I see random posts and critiques commenting that the Crows were too "sanitised" or "found-family", I want to yell a bit, because DATV never claims that to be the case!! Obviously everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but what we see is anchored in a very specific context: not just Treviso under Antaam occupation, but also the Cantori Diamond, which falls under Teia's jurisdiction.

She's an elven orphan turned Guildmaster and Talon, who desperately wanted to find family in the Crows! While the other Talons resisted her attempts at every step (some more succesfully than others ksks), that implies 1) her approach towards her own House was probably not dissimilar and 2) it got her the Talon position in her 20s. Ergo, her modus operandi was probably fairly successful.

For all that she threatens to evict anyone who treats her like a landlord (lol), the Diamond is very much a reflection of her as a character. It's all completely in line with both her general characterisation in 8 Little Talons and with the point she reaches at the end of that story when confronting Emil. I don't think it's a coincidence that out of our two POVs in 8LT, she's the one discussing Crow ideology with their would-be-murderer:

and

and

Following this particular set-up, of course orphans like Jacobus are treated kindly; of course fledglings have time to gossip in quiet corners while training; of course she helps the Dellamortes however she can?? She decided these people are family to her, and she wants to do better by them than what she got. This is wildly compelling to me personally, because she's such a delightful mix of idealism and disillusionment, honesty and manipulation, compassion and retribution - and she's so fucking obstinate about it!!!

There's also the little connection with the Crows' beginnings, specifically in Treviso. Iirc, it's mentioned in 8LT that her base is Rialto (she's also got gardens there), so a part of me wonders whether the Diamond was an inherited property from a previous Cantori Talon, or whether she got it up and running between then and the events of the game. I think that between that little tibdbit and with Lucanis being named First Talon at the end of the game, it's pretty obvious that the theme of rebirth is very much the point in the Crows' plotline - a messy, hopeful and spiteful rebirth.

All of this is to say, what we get doesn't at all negate the other aspects we've seen from the Crows in previous games, but rather puts them into perspective. The game just goes on to ask - isn't there another way to do this? what else is there room for us to be? is there any chance we might find some kindness in this world? and one of the ways these answers are explored is through Teia's character (we start this series with Zevran's story within the Antivan Crows - an elven orphan bought from a brothel, who doesn't have the power to change this guild, and end with Lucanis, Viago and Teia, who is, specifically, an elven orphan picked up (?) from the streets, who remains one of the powerhouses of the organisation. I love a bit of narrative symmetry ✨)

And honestly, I find this entire thing delightful - it's cheeky and dramatic and a lot of fun, and it makes sense for these characters, if you only sit with it for a second and give it a bit of thought!

(PS the way she draws Viago into her orbit and the way their partnership works is another rant entirely, and they drive me absolutely insane nghhh)

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Romantasy Book Tropes Ranked By How Easy They Are to Make Interesting Again

okay so hear me out: i love romantasy. i am romantasy. but also? a lot of the tropes feel like they've been in a blender set to “medium aesthetic” and we all just nod and go “yes this is fine” while our souls leave our bodies.

so i ranked some of the top romantasy tropes by how EASILY they can be made good again, not which ones are the best, not which ones are ✨dead✨, but which ones are like, 2 rewrites away from being god-tier if you’re willing to do violence to them.

⚠️ this list is subjective. take it up with your protagonist’s tragic backstory.

🥇 1. The Cursed Prince / Beast / Exiled Royalty Difficulty: ★☆☆☆☆ Listen. This one is so easy to make interesting again it’s embarrassing when it’s bad. Just add one (1) real consequence. Is he cursed? Cool. Show me how that curse is actively wrecking his life. Exiled? Give me the betrayal scene in detail. Raised by wolves? Show me him eating raw meat like a weirdo. Don’t just make him Hot and Sad. Make him feral and complicated. Bonus points if he doesn’t want to be uncursed. Bonus bonus if the heroine agrees.

🥈 2. The Marriage Trial / Forced Proximity Setup Difficulty: ★★☆☆☆ You can spin this SO MANY WAYS. Make the trial political. Make the contestants unhinged. Make it morally messed up. It stops being boring the moment you stop writing it like a CW love triangle and start writing it like a dark social game. ex: Squid Game but hot. Don’t just have them accidentally touch hands. Have them make alliances and betray each other in the hallway at 3am. Be weird with it.

🥉 3. The Warrior Girl Who Has Never Known Love Difficulty: ★★☆☆☆ The trick is: don’t make her secretly soft. Make her correct. Love should feel like a threat to her survival, not a makeover montage. She doesn’t need to be taught softness, she needs to be loved as is. Give her a love interest who isn’t trying to “fix” her but sees her sharp edges and says “yeah that’ll do.” Instant slay.

👀 4. Enemies to Lovers Difficulty: ★★★☆☆ Controversial take but: most of you are doing rivals to lovers. Or “mild professional disagreement” to lovers. True enemies to lovers is hard because it requires two people to want to ruin each other, and then have to live with that. There needs to be blood on the floor. There needs to be regret. It’s not banter if they wouldn’t kill each other in Act 1. Go full feral or go home.

🔮 5. The Chosen One and the Dark Mentor Difficulty: ★★★★☆ this one is delicious BUT. the power imbalance. the age gap. the moral greyness. the betrayal baked into the bones. it needs to be handled with scary levels of intention. when it’s done right? peak feral epic gothic. when it’s not? feels like a Wattpad fic from 2012 where the teacher falls for the new girl in detention. tread wisely.

🪦 6. The Mysterious Assassin Love Interest Difficulty: ★★★★★ okay. i’m tired. i’ve seen this man too many times. he’s got a dark past, two daggers, and no personality. he exists only to appear at the edge of a ballroom and go “you shouldn’t be here.” if you want to make him interesting again, you need to get into his actual psyche. give him weird rituals. make him bad at normal things. give him a reason he’s choosing murder over healing. or better yet, retire him for a few years. we’ve earned a break.

💌 agree? disagree? reblog with YOUR favorite romantasy trope and how you’d resurrect it from the cliché graveyard. 🪦✨

[therosebookshop]

An Unhealthy Obsession

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Warnings/Contains: Dead dove? Yeah, dead dove; yandere, yandere, yandere; not cringy yandere, if you’re looking for yansim type yandere you will not find that here; stalking on both sides; mentally unwell on both sides yeah duh; gender neutral pronouns and reader as always; you’re aware you’re fucked in the head and why, but therapy is expensive; an ‘accidental’ murder; I hc sol to have a tongue piercing because god knows he should’ve had one, that creep from the arcade but this time bbg Sol is there to save you first <3

A/N: um hi I got sucked in by sol and for any followers sorry I’ve been absent I have ✨burnout✨ so

Inspo: a tumblr post and the title came from ‘An Unhealthy Obsession’ by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

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Yandere.

A mix of two words- yanderu, “to be sick,” and deredere, “lovestruck.” Most of the time, yandere are portrayed to be sweet, caring, and innocent before switching into someone who displays an extreme, often violent or psychotic, level of devotion to a love interest.

You know you have a problem. Something wrong in your brain, having developed from your childhood abandonment and neglect. The need to be loved turned into an obsession with a boy in kindergarten. You’d thought he would be perfect for you, because he seemed so sweet and caring. And well.. that girl you’d pushed into traffic one day after she’d given him a flower and they’d sat together at lunch had been an accident, of course. A horrible, tragic one.

Your obsessions had never been this bad. Of course, some of them had been over fictional characters. Some had been over real boys in school, but they had never returned your feelings. And you’d cried your heart out after the rejections. You simply didn’t understand why they didn’t love you. You’d stalk them to see what they liked, change your clothing and your personality and everything, just for them. To be their type.

But this obsession… had turned so bad.

He plagued your every thought. His gorgeous eyes, pretty hair, nice hands. His lips, his arms, how tall he was. Everything about him was so perfect. He was perfect. The fact that he didn’t seem to have many friends.. well, that was okay. When you finally got him as yours, he wouldn’t need anybody else. He’d have you.

You’d gained a reputation as a weird kid, one that had apparently followed you to your new college. There was a boy at the back of your class, who was nearly always accompanied by a boy who was about a head shorter, blue hair. You were jealous. But you weren’t stupid. No, you had to plan carefully to dispose of the boy.

Years. Painful years, of learning about the object of your obsession. You had a whole wall in your closet covered in Polaroids of Sol, each one neatly dated on the back in a green marker that matched the green in his hair. You had shoeboxes full of Polaroids of him, too, all of those neatly dated in legible handwriting and stacked by date. You followed him home once to set up a camera in his bedroom, complete with a mic, right near his bed to hear him sleep. You recorded it once, for if you ever needed the comforting sounds of your darling to sleep and he wasn’t available. Surprisingly, it was hard to learn anything about him just from searching his name- a lot of the kids here were from richer families, more popular families. So you simply stalked him, learned everything about him you could, and kept note of everything about him in a black hardcover notebook, kept on your person at all times.

Every little tick, nervous habit, anything. Noted. How his tongue prodded at hot food before taking a bite. The absolutely hot looking tongue piercing he had. The cute way he fiddled with his sleeves sometimes, or tapped his foot. When people were being annoying he rolled his eyes, or crossed his arms. He had a sibling-like relationship with his best friend, and you had a few pictures of his cute little pout when he was teased.

You learned from careful observation that he was in the nurse's office every other day, so you started to give yourself little injuries to be in the office too. A cut, a bruise, other injuries.

Little did you know he was obsessed with you too. You'd heard this town could be dangerous for pretty young women at night, but you hadn't ever had any issues. Because he followed you home every night. Why would you need a recording of him sleeping when he climbed into your room through your window and spooned you every night? He knew about all the Polaroids and everything. And it made him more obsessed, that you felt the same way about him.

You started to leave him little gifts- cute ones like a tiny bouquet of geranium blooms held together with twine placed on his desk (he knew about the flower box in your living room), a hoodie casually tossed over the back of his chair (it smelled like you and was oversized, so fit him well). Or bigger gifts- a horse plushie, snacks. All of them were from you, he knew they were. It was obvious, how you'd always be at your desk, which was just a couple away from his so you could inconspicuously look at him, before he was in the classroom. How you'd watch eagerly as he put the hoodie on, or slipped the snacks or plushie into his backpack to take home.

Then came the day in art class- three Expressionism drawings. You weren't an artist in any form (unless taking a lot of photographs of one person counted, and it probably didn't) and anyway, even if you were, you didn't want to spend a lengthy amount of time with anybody but Sol.

Everybody moved around to their partners, and you were the only one left without one. And, as your eyes fastened on Sol... he didn't have a partner, either.

You went over, sliding into the seat beside him. "You don't have a partner, right?"

You'd never spoken to him before. Not once. You'd heard his voice so much, but now, actually face-to-face with the object of your obsessions and sleepless nights, your heart was beating out of your chest.

"No. I don't. He ditched me." He said. And god, is his voice hot.

"Well, I don't either." You have to remind yourself to breathe, even though your knee is bobbing under the desk. "Want to be partners?"

His eyes don't miss the rapid, nervous movement of your knee bobbing, heel tapping against the floor. The corners of his lip twitch slightly. Adorable.

"I don't see why not." He says finally, eyes focusing on yours, and you have to remind yourself again to breathe. His eyes are so gorgeous. Like warm honey. You could fall into them and be trapped, like a fly in amber.

"Great." And the word comes out a little breathless, a little flustered. "I'm (user), by the way." You offer your hand to shake. "What's your name?" Like you don't already know it.

He stares at your hand for a minute, as if contemplating. Then he shakes your hand. "Solvian Brugmansia. Just call me Sol."

His hand is warm and bigger than yours, unsurprising because of his height. You can't help but grin. "Nice to meet you, Sol."

You talk a little, ideas of what to draw. He had a sketchbook open on his desk, and to see it without straining your neck, you scooted your chair over, leaning into his personal space bubble. But for such an introvert, he didn't seem to mind one bit.

He smells so good, you think. Comforting. Like paper and something akin to blood- an irony smell. And something under that, something so distinctly him you want to bury your face in his neck. You want to rest your head against him, maybe put your hand on his thigh for 'balance'. To touch him in some way.

He shifts, clears his throat, and when you glance up at him you realize his cheeks are flushed, and he looks down at you. You realize when you can see the faint blemishes on his face- oh so pretty- that you're very, very close.

You lean away, flustered and embarrased. You don't think you blush- he can see faint pink on your cheeks- but you do grin like an absolute idiot. You've learned this through playing dating games (a way to familiarize yourself with relationships, to be as good a partner as you possibly can for your future darling). You're not grinning as wide as if he had flustered you with his words, but you've still got a smile on your face.

And almost without thinking, his hand squishes your cheeks between his fingers to tilt your face up. You're so pretty, he thinks, those eyes never looking away from his, eyes that he could spend hours staring into. With the faint blush coloring your cheeks and the smile on your lips, you could be a perfect subject to draw.

"Stay like that for me." He murmured softly. "I'm going to draw you for this project."

Your lips parted, cheeks growing red, even if you couldn't feel their warmth. He opened up a page of his sketchbook, releasing your face to start sketching. He tells you how to pose- your chin on your palms, head tilted slightly. You watch him as he sketches, how focused he is, his lower lip caught with his teeth. Your eyes soften. He's gorgeous like this, pretty eyes occasionally flickering between the page and you.

Your eyes unfocus, simply staring at him. When he looks up his eyes lock with yours. He can practically see hearts in your eyes, adoration in your gaze. His cheeks turn red. You're adorable this way, oh-so-pretty. Stunning, really.

There's not enough time to finish the drawing within class, so while everybody files out he makes you stay there, finishing the sketch. When he's done he closes his sketchbook and stuffs it into his bag. "I'll show you when I color it in." He says as you grab your stuff and exit the classroom.

Out in the hallway, the two of you stand off to the side. "Since we're, um, gonna be partners, we should exchange numbers. To keep in touch and talk about projects and stuff." You add.

Please, please, please-

“Yeah. Here, put your number in.” He pulls out his phone and opens the contact app before handing it to you. You couldn't stop grinning as you typed in your number and handed his phone back. Your phone went off- a text from an unknown number, no doubt him.

You changed his contact nickname to 'Darling ♡ ' in your phone, grinning to yourself. You're so much shorter than him, he can easily see your phone screen, and he smiles to himself. He's added your contact name as 'Pumpkin'.

The obsession was so obvious.

Over the next few days of the project, the two of you ended up hanging out a lot. Usually at each other's apartment. You even went to the arcade with Sol while Hyugo went and saw a movie nearby.

It was really a cute arcade date, and you dressed as cute as possible that day- oversized sweater, baggy pants, oversized chunky boots that you sometimes lost your balance in... but it was fine, because you always had Sol to lean into for balance.

At the arcade, you played games together, laughing. Sol went to get more tokens and you insisted on sticking by his side. Somebody brushed past you, and in your horrible balanced fashion, you stumbled.

Sol caught you by the waist, steadying you. "Are you okay?"

He seemed to realize what he'd done and cleared his throat, moving his arm, but you stopped him, lacing your fingers with his, begging he wouldn't freak. His cheeks went bright red but he didn’t pull away, and you grinned to yourself as you went up to the counter with him, giving him a cute little side hug while he bought some more tokens. His cheeks were even redder now. It was adorable seeing him like this.

The cashier smiled at the two of you. "How long have you been a couple for?" You hastily released him. Sure, you knew that could be considered slightly romantic, but-

"Not long at all." His arm loops around your waist to tuck you into his side. Your face flushes a bright red. He looks down at you, noticing your blush, and his cheeks turn a pretty pink.

When you get more tokens you go to plushie machines. One of them has horse plushies. You give Sol, who's at a claw machine with plushies of your favorite animal in it, a quick look before going to the machine and putting in a token.

You're laser focused on it, cheering when you get the plushie. You don't even notice when an unfamiliar man comes up to you with a sleazy look, his two bodyguards in tow. He throws an arm around your waist, and you startle away from him, horse plushie clutched in your arms.

"Hey there, pretty. You alone?" He reeks of tobacco, and your nose wrinkles.

"No, I'm here with my boy-" You try to back up, but you bump into one of his bodyguards that blocks your way.

"What kind of boyfriend would leave a pretty thing like you all by yourself? C'mon, come with me, pet. I'll show you a good time." He starts to try to pull you away, but you stomp on his foot, hard, and run. Sol was nearby, he can protect you-

You collide right into Sol, and he keeps you from falling, eyes darting over your face with concern. "What's wrong, pumpkin?" The cute little pet name slips from his lips without him even realizing.

"This man- he grabbed me- he wanted me to go with him but I ran-" You're shaking, Sol can tell, the horse plushie still clutched in your arms. His eyes literally darken in anger, looking up and around for the man who dared to touch you without your permission.

I'm gonna kill him.

He gives you a hug, and you hug him back tightly, the horse plushie held in your hand, the bag of other prizes you two had collectively won bumping against your back as he held it in his hand. "It's okay, I'm here now."

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingering. You smell amazing. He should find out what scent you wear, so he can buy one for himself.

But he should focus on the situation at hand. He runs his fingers through your hair. "It's okay. Let's go, yeah?"

So you walk home with him, and he holds your hand, keeping you close. Your hands are cold, and he pauses, setting the bag down at your feet and holding your hand to his mouth. His cheeks redden as he kisses the back of your hands, and you blush too.

He's so pretty. And so, so close. His eyes lock with yours, and you see the same sort of adoration and obsession in his eyes that are often in yours when you look at him.

And it makes your breath catch. He feels the same way. That's what that look has to mean.

He holds your hand the rest of the way to your cozy little apartment and you invite him in. He accepts, of course, acting like he's never been inside your apartment- he knows it like the back of his hand.

And maybe you do kiss him that night. Maybe he stays over, cuddling in your bed with you. Maybe more happens. But you're his. And he's yours.

But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee—

[cece693]

Hey! I really like your writing. And I especially enjoyed your Hannibal and Will Graham fics and latest about stucky x reader. If I can request something with will x hannibal x reader? Gn or male whatever you feel more up to. I would love to hear your original ideas for pairing, but if you'd rather have a concept to start from. I thought about Will having a good friend before canon working in buro. Both having crush on each other, but Will wasn't quite ready to start relationship. Enter Hannibal and his attempts to get Will out of his shell. First thinking reader to be a hindrance for his plan to ensnare Will, but later discovering that they're mesmerizing on their own.

I hope it's not too much to ask. Thank you. I love both good poly and mlm headcanons. There's totally should be more of them and I am glad to see your delightful contribution. 💛✨

Oh, this idea just gave me a bunch of other ideas. Like what if instead of will and the reader having feelings for one another, it was a combined effort from the murder husbands (after the doctor consumed will's thoughts and affections) that finally made you get into a relationship with both. Perhaps will has feelings for you (one sided) as he struggles to find a clutch to normality when his mental state deteriorates, and Hannibal exploits this—making will take action but also try to squeeze himself into that picture. And you, while spending time with hannibal and will, are conditioned to return their affections (like we saw hannibal do to will through touches and understanding.) Ahhh, the possibilities are endless.

You, Me and Him

pairing: murder husbands x male reader tags: you don't like will or hannibal (romantically), but the murder husbands have a way of convincing you otherwise, heavy manipulation, will falls first, hannibal falls second, you are blind, ignoring obvious red flags, but it's will and hannibal so...

Will Graham had never been the best at deciphering his own heart. That was the ironic truth of a man whose empathy allowed him to unravel the psyches of murderers. Yet when it came to you, the one person he viewed as a tether to normalcy, every feeling became painfully tangled. He needed you close—needed your steadiness, your uncomplicated presence—to keep his head above water when the horrors of his job threatened to devour him. But you were a friend, so clearly uninterested in him romantically (much less men in general, Will believed) that he kept his longing chained behind carefully guarded walls. For a long time, watching from the sidelines, enjoying your companionship in even the smallest measures, was enough.

When he stepped into Dr. Hannibal Lecter’s office for therapy, his conflicting emotions became one of many topics he reluctantly confided. At first, Will was hesitant to talk about you. He loathed the idea of Hannibal’s clinical eyes dissecting the one pure comfort in his life. But Hannibal had a way of drawing secrets out as though they were confessions whispered in the dark—gentle, unassuming, yet invasive all the same.

From their first sessions, Hannibal gleaned that Will’s focus on you had reached near-obsessive levels. Whenever your name came up, Will’s eyes lit with equal parts tenderness and desperation. The doctor took it all in. He listened, encouraged, dissected Will’s words with calm curiosity. Whenever Will voiced his fear that his longing for you could drive him off the edge, Hannibal consoled him: “It isn’t a crime to desire closeness, Will,” he would say, voice low and soothing. “If anything, a connection to someone good might ground you. Keep you from unraveling.”

And as Will flinched under the weight of his guilt—he wanted you, but he felt wrong for it—Hannibal delivered subtle reassurances: “Why deny yourself a chance at happiness? You are no monster for wishing to be near him.”

Over time, Hannibal made a space for himself in Will’s life. The patient-doctor relationship merged into a twisted friendship, with Hannibal stepping further and further into Will’s personal sphere. Will was slow to grasp the transformation, perceiving Hannibal’s presence as comforting at first. Someone who understood him deeply, without flinching from the darkness within.

As Hannibal’s influence grew, so did his interest in you. Your involvement with Will—your genuine, unjaded nature—captured Hannibal’s attention. It wasn’t long before he decided he wanted you, too, if only to keep Will’s new bond firmly intact. The idea of shaping your perception—of orchestrating a scenario where the three of you formed an exclusive, unbreakable circle—was alluring.

He carefully watched the interactions between you and Will, noting each time your eyes flickered with concern for Will’s mental state. Each time you offered him a patient smile or a comforting word. In Hannibal’s mind, you were both prime for gentle, consistent manipulation—Will, desperate for your acceptance, and you, yearning to maintain his well-being without suspecting the deeper motives beneath your kindness.

Hannibal began planting seeds during casual dinners. He’d invite you over, always ensuring Will was present, then guide the conversation: “I see such relief in Will when you’re around,” Hannibal would say, touching on your care for Will’s shaky mental state. You, flattered and a bit concerned, would look to Will—who merely wore a half-smile, eyes shadowed but hopeful. These moments didn’t feel unnatural—Hannibal excelled at making them seem perfectly ordinary. Yet each small gesture and pointed remark primed you for what would follow.

Meanwhile, Will was unraveling under Hannibal’s subtle coaxing. He spent nights twisting and turning in his sheets, dreaming of you standing in the sunlight of his dilapidated front porch, the only bright thing in his life. He hated the ache that throbbed in his chest whenever you weren’t near. Hated how, beneath that longing, lived an unsettling willingness to do almost anything to keep you from leaving him behind. Hannibal noticed. And time and time again, he whispered that it was only natural—only right—to keep close what one cherished. Why shouldn’t Will stake a claim on the happiness he deserved?

So it happened one evening after you helped Will through a particularly vicious nightmare. You’d come by late, responding to his shaky phone call. You found him hunched on the edge of his bed, cold sweat on his brow, terror in his eyes. You soothed him as best you could, offering words of comfort and an embrace that felt wholly innocent to you.

But to Will, it was everything.

As you tucked the blanket around him, whispering that it was going to be okay, he lifted his gaze, tears lining his eyes. You’d never seen him so raw, so open—an unspoken plea shining on his face. Before you could question the emotion behind his stare, Will leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

You froze. That moment stretched, your mind racing in startled confusion. You’d never considered that Will might want you in that way. You stayed tense, uncertain, before you gently pulled back. Will’s eyes flashed with immediate regret, anguish coloring his cheeks crimson. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I—I didn’t mean—” But he did mean it. You could see it plainly. He meant every second of it.

You managed a quiet, shaky reassurance, “It’s…it’s okay,” even though you felt the distant echo of something too big to process, a boundary abruptly torn open. Will’s need, so potent, made the air feel oppressive. Confused and reeling, you left with a promise to text him later—an effort to keep things calm, to not break him further.

Hannibal found out about Will’s impulsive kiss—Will couldn’t hide it, not with the guilt and mixed desperation etched on his face. Yet the doctor didn’t scold him. Instead, Hannibal allowed a knowing look to pass between them. He recognized this was precisely the kind of bold step that would push you closer to their collective snare.

In the following days, Hannibal carefully orchestrated his own moment. He sensed your unease—your confusion about what had happened with Will—so he extended an invitation for “conversation and clarity.” He offered his home as a safe space to untangle your worries. You accepted, too relieved to have a calm voice of reason to notice the mild triumphant glint in his eyes.

Inside Hannibal’s tastefully refined dining room, you found yourself revealing the tension you’d been carrying since that night. How you felt torn between concern for Will and your own ambivalence—perhaps even fear. Hannibal listened, nodding, never once shaming you for your uncertainty.

When your breathing became shallow and eyes misted with tears you didn’t know were there, Hannibal placed a hand over yours on the table. His voice dropped to that gentle register you’d come to associate with absolute safety. “You care for Will deeply,” he intoned, letting his fingers lightly trace your knuckles. “And that’s admirable. But do not discount the possibility that your affections run deeper than you realize.”

“But I—I’m not…” you began, stumbling over the words.

Hannibal smiled then—self-assured, not smug—before he rose from his seat to stand behind you. He reached out, guiding you to stand as well. You followed, both unsettled and lulled by his presence. With careful gentleness, he turned you to face him. “There is no shame,” he said softly, voice thick with something that made your heartbeat stumble, “in discovering new paths of desire.”

You opened your mouth to protest or respond or something. But Hannibal’s palm slid along your jaw, tipping your face up just enough for him to lean in and press a deliberate, lingering kiss to your lips—quieter, more controlled than Will’s had been, yet just as fierce in its own way. Your body tensed again, mind whirling with confusion. The combined weight of Will’s unexpected confession and Hannibal’s assured advance threatened to overwhelm you.

When he pulled back, Hannibal kept his hand on the curve of your jaw, scanning your expression as though memorizing every flicker of emotion. The world felt dizzyingly narrow, your pulse pounding in your ears. A hundred protests died on your tongue because beneath your shock, something about Hannibal’s closeness felt safe, even if you couldn’t explain why.

From that day forward, there was no denying it. Both Will and Hannibal wanted you in a way that went beyond mere friendship. Their dynamic, once centered on doctor-patient formality, now pulsed with an undercurrent of shared intention. They had found common ground—you.

Through hesitant text messages and quiet, orchestrated meetings, you found yourself toggling between Will’s fragile urgency and Hannibal’s guiding confidence. You noticed how Will’s eyes filled with a desperate hope whenever you walked into a room, or how he’d hover near you, afraid to overstep but unable to pull away. How Hannibal’s hand casually came to rest on your arm or shoulder, an anchoring gesture that left your thoughts in disarray. You were never alone long enough to piece together how deliberately they’d closed in around you.

Confusion gnawed at you; you’d never before felt anything resembling romantic desire for men, and yet their combined attention stirred something you weren’t prepared for. Part of you wanted to retreat, to breathe, to figure out who you were without their influences. But each time you tried to put distance between you and them—perhaps a few days’ break—something would happen: Will’s mental state would plummet, or Hannibal would send a carefully crafted message. You’d end up returning to them, guilt and concern driving you.

And bit by bit, their touches became as common as breathing. Their whispers of gratitude, the gentle smiles, the confessions of how precious you were to them—each act chipped away at your hesitation.

Will was the first to proclaim it in words. One night, as you helped him with an anxiety attack, he clutched your hand and said in a broken voice, “I need you. I—I don’t know what I’d do without you. Please stay.” He didn’t elaborate on what “stay” meant—stay the night, stay in his life forever—both, perhaps. The raw fear in his eyes and the ache in his voice made you feel responsible, compelled to soothe him.

Hannibal, in his quieter moments, would tell you over a shared dinner, “You are a calming harbor in a tumultuous sea,” even as his eyes glinted with an intensity that suggested something far beyond simple appreciation. “I wouldn’t see Will as he is now if it weren’t for you,” he’d add, implying a joint responsibility—one that seemed to unite you, Will, and himself.

It was a carefully orchestrated dance: you, feeling the weight of Will’s fragile psyche; Will, obsessed with maintaining your presence; and Hannibal, the puppet master pulling subtle strings, pushing you further into their shared darkness. By the time you realized the full extent of their devotion, you were already too entangled to easily escape. You found yourself flitting between a swirling confusion of your identity—were you truly opening up to their love, or were you merely shaped to believe it was inevitable?

In Hannibal’s grand design, forging a bond with Will was only half the story. With Will’s acceptance of his own darker impulses—fanned by Hannibal’s influence—the good doctor finally had a partner who could see the world more like he did, unrestrained by common morality. All that was missing from their perspective was you, an untainted counterpart they felt made them complete.

Your presence served as a reminder of normalcy that Will desperately needed, and as a new challenge that Hannibal found irresistible. When the two of them decided to claim you, it was less a spontaneous decision and more the product of Hannibal’s unwavering manipulations combined with Will’s deep-seated fixation.

They became your support system, your protectors, and, unwittingly to you, your manipulators. They smoothed over every apprehension with heartfelt declarations or a soft, well-timed touch. Each gesture was designed to break down any lingering resistance, any chance you might realize this path wasn’t your choice at all.

In the end, there was a weary sort of acceptance in your gaze. A flicker of longing for them—two men who craved you to the point of madness—and a quieter flicker of doubt that you couldn’t quite extinguish. If it ever threatened to surface, one of them would appear at your side, holding you close until that doubt dissolved under the intensity of their love and need. And that’s how you found yourself in a situation you would never have predicted: caught between Will Graham’s trembling devotion and Hannibal Lecter’s calculated passion. One man who feared losing you almost more than he feared himself, and another who viewed both you and Will as beautiful pieces in his private masterpiece.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 28/09✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I am going to ask you to make a difficult decision… freenoodles or Shadowpeach

(Freenoodles, in my opinion, is just barely better than shadowpeach. Just because of how gay they are in season five. I mean, look at them and tell me they aren’t married.)

Sooo I go with shadowpeach. Freenoodle is like my comfort shit. so many cute and funny shenanigans, for me they are just the married couple who would probably have the healtiest of the relationship. They have teh experience, they went already throught all the "obliviouss-ness" and the "what if they don't love me" yadda yadda.

But Shadowpeach. Ow man. I thought the ineffable housband ship was complex. but god. oh god. how wrong I was. like- these two went from friends, to brothers, to lovers, to enemies, to friends again and to be lover again. They fucked up so much nothing will ever be the same. But they still weak for each other. They are at each other throat and also they know the other in the most intimate way. they are immortal. One of them fucking killed the other. They thought the other left them and betrayed and went both drama to forget (one choose found family, the other murder but anyway-)

Like- WHAT SHIP CAN BE MORE COMPLEX THAN THIS?????

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does MK have a favorite between his bio parents

oUH NO POOR MONKEYS. He doesn't, but he has a favourite depending on the context. Like, for training he prefers Macaque because he explains a lot better than Wukong, but sparring with Wukong is much funnier, but he prefers Macaque scratches and grooming, but he loves Wukong squeezing hugs, etc...

Anonimo ha chiesto: You know, I just realized something. So you know how people in the fandom give Macaque lotus nicknames since his ears kind of resemble lotus flowers. Well since MK has both Wukong and Macaque's ears that kind of makes MK's ears resemble Peace Lilies (which is kind of ironic since MK is the Harbinger of Chaos)

Aww I guess they do look like them!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I may sound a little to mean but Mk din't suspect a thing aout macaques eye? he has multiple forms were his eye is a cross i mean, i would think smt happend to that eye but that just me uu I LOVE UR ART IT MAKES ME WANT TO KMS /POS

He surely suspected something happened to Mac eye but he didn't know how that happened.

@queen-of-purple-roses ha chiesto: I have a question and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t have too; since we’ve seen Macaque feel guilty with how he treated MK in the past, does Monkey King feel guilty about all the dangerous moments that MK was put in, since most if not all of the fighting ends up on MK’s plate and not Wukong’s.

Oh absolutely, the more time passes he feels more and more guilty.

@catbox730 ha chiesto: Can we get more MK and Red Son please

mayyyyyybe. If you guys behave

Anonimo ha chiesto: It would be funny seeing MK‘s dads going to a doctor with him for like getting his wisdom teeth removed or something xD

The parents being extremely worried that something will go wrong while MK is super chill. When the dentist comes out of the operating room they grab him and ask him if he survived while MK is just eating ice cream post-surgery.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will MK ever fight against one of his parents in a serious battle ? Or be forced to fight one of them ?

mmm. Probably. Maybe in the future they have a discussion. Nothing maybe too serious. But not in the AU plans.

What is Wukongs and/or Macaques biggest nightmare(s) I imagine it would be something like seeing MK die or sacrificing himself again or something like that

I think Wukong is more terrified of being alone. So actually I think it would be worse for him that MK doesn't want to see him anymore.

Anonimo ha chiesto: so who is going to be MK‘s hero that he worships ? I don’t know if he still sees Monkey king in that way after finding out that he is basically his dad and hearing the past the fight with Macaque….

Maybe he wont have any hero. Maybe worshipping someone is not such a healthy thing to do. ( I'm not talking in a religious way of course, I meant worshipping a living normal person)

@emmais333 ha chiesto: Love your MK art. One question how many fights from Wukong and Mac does MK overhear on accident

He heard the first one (and the past one through the vision) then Wkong and Mac started to teleport far away enough so he wont be able to hear them discuss.

Anonimo ha chiesto: What if MK catches Mac and Wukong in the act, not visually, but audibly, like hearing it when going to flower feuit mountain, finding the monkeys in a pile, all traumatized. Or is it too soon? Do they get drunk enough to not care? Do they even drink?

in the....act? (sorry I don't understand stuff if it's not explicited said, like I can't understand double meanings if that was what you meant)

Anonimo ha chiesto: I LOVE YOUR STORY, REALLY!!!! I reread a lot. So lovely. And the Baby MK, I just want to hug so badly 🥺 ( I think Macaque become Protecting mode and he won't let me do it. ) You draw Baby MK so so so cute. My heart can't handle it.❤️ Maybe it's a terrifying idea but I would like know your thoughts. I think that Macaque sleeps very quietly, like a man in a coffin.  + Macaque fell into a very deep DEEP sleep. (maybe because he was tired from fighting demons to protect Baby MK or get injured or something?) = How do you think Sun Wokung will react?

o my god NO DON'T GIVE HIM AN HEARTH ATTACK (heloses one of their immortalities for having the most horrrendous of jumpscares)

@raspberrymixin ha chiesto: AHHH I LOVE YOU SHADOW PEACH BIO AU OMG ITS TO FREAKEN CUTEEEE AAHH I just melt into a puddle! Love you art and make sure to take breaks- anyway- I find it cute how redson interacts with MK I can just imagine him giving him stuff and little gifts and Mk just confused on why but takes it anyway because of friendship and maybe a sign he's trusting more- but MK is just oblivious to the courting- And maybe redson would ask Wukong, Macaque, Tang or pigsy to allow it maybe? And I also love the slow burn! It's just cute on how Macaque and Wukong make each other blush! Awww it's just to cute! I hope you're doing amazing and have a good night/day

Oh man MK would not be able to read a single clue and just think it's a symbol of friendship or wathever. O my god he really did take from his parents (all of them)

fayeangel25 ha chiesto: YOUUU UFUFFHH WHEN I GET YOUUUUU anyways, I wanna see wukong asking macaque about the story of him and mac ( after mamacaque storytelled his lil baby mk ) , cuz i wanna see more flustered macaque!!! Also, 👏 EATING 👏 THIS 👏 AU 👏 UP!!

Hehe he would be a little shy about it. But Macaque is a theater kid so for a bigger audience I guess he would do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like I’m new here. What is Court napping?

Consensual Kidnapping with the intend of flirting with another demon.

Anonimo ha chiesto: How many people want to court MK now that he is a real stone monkey AND the son of Wukong and Macaque ?

mmm. Only people close to MK knows that he's the bio kid of shadowpeach. So for now only Red Son

Anonimo ha chiesto: I bet PIF would try to wait for MK to lose the good guy ‘phase’ since she went through that before lmao (forget being good, convert to villainy in the name of love)

Awwww she would!!! But MK is just too good hearted to hurt a fly. (yeah I know he technically has a kill count still-)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK would obviously call Pigsy "Papa" so what would MK call Tang and Sandy?

I think he would actually call Pigsy "dad" since it's what he calls him that in the show. Maybe it's Tang that gets to be called Papa. I think Sandy is more like an uncle.

@mage-of-words ha chiesto: When will Wukong purpose to Macaque?

WOW- HOLD ON THERE. LET HIM TAKE HIM TO DINNER FIRST.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Omg I wonder if Macaque and Monkey King ever saw MK get really hurt during a battle with a new demon. RIP the Demon bc two feral Monkeys are after them now bc they hurt their kid.

Them to said demon: So you have choosen.... death.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hear me out, Mac and Wukong in a get along shirt for a day (lost a bet to MK and he planned this too) LOVE YOUR ART TOO ITS SO SCRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUCIOUS

this is an old ask, sorry for taking so long to answer. But I would say that at this point of the story Wukong would probably be at cloud 9 being squished to super soft macaque all day. Macaque would be like a kitten undecided on wheter he loves or hate the situation (doesn't really likes un-warned physical touch.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hoi there, I found you again! (Following you on Insta as well because your art is awesome ^^)

Reading your LMK ShadowPeaches comics and they are fun. And now my brain can't help but make up scenarios, one like this one. Oh my, MK is a cute little baby! (^///^) Oh my, MK is a little baby!! ('O_O) Welp, Pigsy is going to kill someone unless Wukong gives baby MK into his arms to calm down and be busy being a dad than a raging Hulk. (:P) Also, I imagine MK accidentally shrinking himself, (Wukong decided to play hide and seek with it only to later on regret it). Wukong would freaking out about it, and Macaque then shook him violently while yelling into his face for losing MK. Then out of Nowhere, Nezha shows up at the door frame and be like 'Um, hey guys. Is this yours?' Points at his nose where tiny baby bean MK was, clinging onto Nezha's nose while giggling.

askjajvbks that's a lovely scene! Unfortunately Nehza can't know yet about MK, but maybe he will...

@lara-legomonkiekid 💜:Hey! I'm here to ask permission!Can I make an art Drawing of your Bio parents AU Meeting One of my AU's?Please?(Mostly Suposed to be Meeting One of my OC's!) (Love Your Art and Comics!!!!)(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Yeah sure! just be sure to tag me and link the masterpost of the AU

Anonimo ha chiesto: I find it funny how your shadowpeach bio au came from a joke and now.....wow Your art is amazing

My friend even tried to warn me. BUT I DIDN'T LISTEN

Anonimo ha chiesto: I need Freenoodles talking late at night about MK's new situation Will they be worried? Happy? I don't think Pigsy will take it very well that just when he and MK accepted each other as Father and Son, he is (partly) taken away by his biological dads.

Pigsy was mostly worried that Wukong or Macaque would hurt in any way MK. Both ahim and Tang after they saw how much the 2 care about MK calmed down, still they just hope they don't mess up things.

Anonimo ha chiesto: parenting it not just about having fun with your children, but also making sure there are boundaries even if the child isn’t happy about it. So, how would it go if Macaque and Wukong would try to ground MK 😂

MK is a little old for being grounded I think but if they were to do it maybe with something like no training for a week or smt. He's still an adult (i know we sometimes forget)

Anonimo ha chiesto: MK trying to prank his parents and wake them up with a loud instrument or sound. MK forgetting he has sensitive hearing 💀

reverso uno card

Anonimo ha chiesto: Would wukong or MK help macaque in his drawings if he asked 🙃 or if they tried to help him improve

Awww they would!!! Actually what if this creative side of him was something he kind of inherted from Wukong?

[chuluoyi]

Hey you!! I am still a bit quite new to the jjk fandom and everything going around but i am reading tons of things and your page became my fave in like a blink of an eye, no joke!!! Like i swear everything you write with Gojo goes through my soul and beyond🔥💕 i was thinking if you would maybe sometime take on the idea of how would Gojo react if his wife/gf is pregnant and him the protective dude he is, looses his shit when she gets hurt (either random or an a mission)?and taking care of her after.

Also i hope you are well and send you all the hugs and love i can give from where I am💜💜💜

࿐ ࿔ before the dawn

tw: pregnancy, mentions of blood, satosugu angst, hurt/comfort. goes through your soul and beyond? omg that’s the highest praise🤧 oh and hurt/comfort is actually my roman empire! to fit in love entries, i have to put it in the jjk0 timeline... and also sending love for you too nonnie!! this is so sweet aww thank you🫶🏻✨

a part of gojo's love entries

“…geto suguru is going to unleash curses in tokyo and kyoto.”

you stood still, suddenly feeling like your world had crashed. you blinked at what ichiji had just said after stuttering many times. “huh? geto… suguru?��

you just had your prenatal checkup with shoko, and you had suspected something serious had been going on by the grim way she looked and how she tried to evade your questions. satoru too had been kind of busy these past few days, and he was sorry to leave you more often because of “a business he had to take care of.”

so this was the business.

“how? why?” you asked ichiji with widened eyes, the horror dawning on you surely and fast. “how is he—doesn’t that mean… he’s— he’s going to be hunted down?”

that was a stupid question. suguru had been a criminal for ten years, of course they were going to catch him. it shouldn’t be new, you knew it. but this was an act of terrorism. this was the gravest and he could—suguru could…

three years of your and satoru’s youth flashed in your mind. the laughs. the memories. how? why must everything escalate this way?

“they’re g-going to… eliminate him.” ichiji looked down with regret, swallowing hard as he told you this. “gojo-san… he’s going to participate in the battle too.”

hearing that, suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. another reality crashed: satoru could end up murdering his best friend.

almost immediately, your womb clenched and throbbed with such intensity that your breath hitched, and you lurched forward, gripping onto ichiji’s arm tightly—

“ahh!” a scream tore its way out of your throat as you crumbled to the ground. the vice-like gripping pressure that assailed you sent waves of pain coursing through your belly and there was something wet and scarlet trickling down your legs.

blood. you wheezed, whimpered and your voice came out in panicked gasps. “b-baby… my baby—!”

“i will get you to ieiri-san!” ichiji immediately carried you back to shoko’s infirmary, trying not to turn into a blubbering mess. your anguished cries resonated through the quiet hall as you held onto your spasming abdomen, and ichiji could only pray with all his heart that you would be okay… or else gojo would definitely have his head.

he was informed through a phone call, that you passed out due to shock.

satoru felt his ears ring. everything blanked out afterwards. you were bleeding. you and your baby were bleeding. you weren’t supposed to and he wasn’t even there.

you were already so far along in your pregnancy and there was only a little over two months left before your due date. despite the impulse to scream at ichiji for subjecting you to such shocking news, he realized it would be futile, because in the end, you deserved to know.

he dashed towards the infirmary, the bandages on his eyes unraveling to reveal the bright glint of his six eyes as he met shoko’s stern gaze.

“where is she?” his voice came out ragged, almost in a growl, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

his remaining friend solemnly guided him towards your room and he wasted no time to rush inside, heart in his throat to make sure that no harm had come to either you or his baby.

“...satoru?” you were sitting on the bed, still pale, the swell of your belly was prominent even under the blankets. he looked at you with a mix of fright and concern and pulled you into his arms, breathing in your scent.

“you alright?” he inquired, voice softened exponentially as he pressed kisses on your head. “does it still hurt anywhere?”

“no, shoko has—”

“your belly no longer hurts? baby okay?” his palm brushed against your abdomen, lips tugged into a very concerned frown, and when the baby kicked him was when satoru could finally heave a sigh of relief.

“you scared me so much,” he whispered into your ear in a rasp and a sigh, before squeezing his eyes shut and reveling in your familiar warmth. one of his hands rested on where your baby was, to feel his twists and turns inside you, while the other continued to hold you in his embrace.

“satoru…” you mumbled, leaning against his sturdy chest and sensing the rapid beats of his heart. you felt exhausted and guilty for having mortified him, but you must clarify one thing. “they said… geto will curse everyone… is that true?”

his heart sank at your innocent question. “for now… can we just stay like this? i will answer you later, but for now…”

and you indulged him. over the years, you learned that satoru needed assurance in physical form more than you did. your heart fluttered as he patted your back and rubbed your belly many times, his worry crystal clear.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here… and i’m sorry that i tried to hide it from you,” he began. “in my defense, i don’t want you to put you through more stress. you have our baby to worry about already.”

as he explained things to you afterwards—about how your once kind, respected senior was now radically persistent in his pursuit of eradicating non-sorcerers and targeted yuta, your eyes watered with tears once again.

“can you stop him?” your lower lip trembled, beginnings of sobs welling up within you. “satoru… he’s… was—your best friend…”

geto suguru was an undeniable part of your vibrant youth. a part of you never got over how he decided to abandon everything during your last year of high school.

and you knew that your husband too must feel the same, with how crestfallen he looked now. it was the greatest betrayal for him to see the only person who understood him branched away to the worst path possible.

“shh... sweets, look,” satoru made you face him, the blue of his eyes darkening as he joined both of your hands together in his, dropping down on one knee before you. “for now, please— please, just focus on yourself. i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“but—”

“i won’t be able to forgive myself if you or our baby are not the slightest bit fine.”

you went silent at that. gojo satoru never showed his weakness to anyone, and with you, rarely. yet, in this moment, he appeared vulnerable, confessing that losing the only thing that kept him sane—this little family you made—would be unbearable.

“i’m fine, i promise,” you reassured, pulling your hand away before wrapping your arms around his neck, seeking his comfort and letting your tears to finally fall freely. “i’m sorry for earlier…”

“don’t. i should’ve told you sooner, that way you wouldn’t bleed,” satoru firmly rebuked in a grave tone, his voice tinged with self-deprecation as he hugged you again in return, stroking your hair. “did it hurt much? you must’ve been so terrified…”

“i was spooked, but we’re fine…”

“i’m going to take leave for the next few days, yeah? we’re going to be together. i can't—in this state of mind—leave you alone.”

the thought of potentially losing your baby filled him with terror. everything else be damned—including suguru’s atrocities, he had to take care of you first.

because you were the one who stood by his side when his world was at its darkest—you had came to him with the light of the dawn. he was forever grateful to you for becoming the apple of his eye, mending his broken heart, and ultimately becoming his everything.

he wouldn't let anything happen to you. that was his vow to himself. and he was a man of his word.

. . .

it didn't occur to you until much, much later, after all was said and done—after you were notified of suguru's death on december 24, that his mind had been set since then, because satoru had never promised you that he would be able to stop him.

[lizzy06]

Shouta Aizawa Fics Recs!!(Tumblr/Ao3/Wattpad)

My Hero Academia Fic Rec Masterlist

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

FIVE TIMES ✨by @damnzawa (oneshot, fluff) In which the faculty at U.A. — ehem Present Mic and Midnight — and 1-A tried to get the two of them together, only to find out they were together all along.

How Convenient by mighty-mighty-man (Pair_Up)(oneshot, humor(?))The night shift at the convenience store was going so well. You got to hear some good tunes, you made a sale, you made conversation with a handsome hero. But then a robber shows up. [COMPLETED]

Lazy Egg ✨✨by mighty-mighty-man (Pair_Up) (slice of life, fluff)You work at an animal shelter.When Aizawa Shouta adopts your favorite cat, your lives become inexplicably intertwined. And strangely enough, it all seems to be for the better.[COMPLETED]

“did he steal two babies?”✨ by @bakugohoex (oneshot, fluff)in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family. [COMPLETED]

Victory by @bnhascribbles (oneshot, fluff) Just a fluffy story about you and your husband. [COMPLETED]

Chocolate hearts✨ by LetheSomething  (fluff, sloeburn, angst, serial killers)A group of villains calling themselves the Valentine Killers are going around murdering people.Their target? Pro hero loved ones. Aizawa Shouta is utterly convinced he has nothing to worry about. He's wrong. [COMPLETED]

Stray Cats. Aizawa Shouta x fem!reader ✨by http_vanished (kinda enemies to lovers , fluff, angst)A man under the alias ‘Eraserhead’ is your favourite author of all timeAs part of your bucket list, you write him a letter expressing your admiration. Never in a thousand years did you expect a rely, inviting you over for dinner to meet him, all-expense paid for. However things don’t go exactly as you planned as the man you idolised for years turns out to be grumpy, scruffy man with an appalling attitude.[COMPLETED]

Lucky Cat ✨by kalpa (oneshot, fluff, humor, slice of life, smut)You're utterly convinced your quirk is having shit luck and attracting trouble everywhere you go. Thankfully, a certain underground hero is always there to save the day.[COMPLETED]

Hurting Together by  @dira333 /Fogfire(oneshot, sorta humor(?))You meet in the waiting room of a Clinic, but opening up about your respective illnesses isn't as easy as you might have thought. Or how Aizawa makes an ass of himself because he tries to flirt on painkillers.[COMPLETED]

Caught in Love by @mooncademia (oneshot, fluff, kinda secret relationship)After getting a job offer at U.A, your love life w/ Aizawa has officially transferred to school. And you loved it.

The Cat and the Key (Aizawa x Reader) by EVoDanger (oneshot, fluff, slowburn)The most wanted woman in town has announced that she'll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat's neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail. The cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.[COMPLETED]

suffer the signs ✨by advantagetexas (oneshot, hanahaki au, angst with happy ending)You begin coughing up petals soon after beginning work as the new UA nurse. You know what they are, you know why they're afflicting you, but you refuse to let them control you.[COMPLETED]

Quirk Smirk by Meldy_Writes (fluff, humor)Quirkless Female Reader moves to Musutafu to reconnect with her estranged sister, Inko, and her newfound nephew, Izuku. everything is going fine until she learns that her kind-of-attractive-kind-of-a-dick neighbor is a pro-hero… and also her nephew's homeroom teacher.[COMPLETED]

But they're soft... by coffee_dessert (fluff, humor)When a black cat is found unconscious in the pouring rain, what's a good samaritan to do? In which the reader takes care of Aizawa after he's been affected by a transformation Quirk.[COMPLETED]

What a Cliché by kingyohna (flowershop au, fluff, slowburn, mutual pinning)Aizawa doesn't know much about pop culture, but he knows it's a definite cliché to fall for someone working in a flower shop.[COMPLETED]

Together, Always. by kalpa (oneshot, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst)Ever since you were young, you've done what's expected of you. But after a chance meeting with a hero and after saving two cats, you begin to wonder just what you truly want out of life.[COMPLETED]

Fill my little world (right up) by tsumoo  (single parent aizawa, nanny! reader, fluff, family feels)you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.[COMPLETED]

Breathless by Mishme(oneshot, fluff, hurt/comfort) In which you experience the different types of kisses from the pro hero, Eraserhead.[COMPLETED]

Chocolate Milk by MariaTheBrave(oneshot, fluff)“Mr. Aizawa,” Mina broke from the others and made a beeline to her teacher, “why didn’t you tell us you have a kid?!”[COMPLETED]

The Reaper (Aizawa x female reader) by Emltar (fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, trauma)You're a teacher at UA with a tragic past trying to keep some semblance of peace in your shattered life. Can a grumpy caterpillar break through your defenses or will you lose yourself completely?[COMPLETED]

Newfound by mysoftestecho (strangers to friends to lovers, smut, fluff)You move to a new town to start teaching at UA. It's a new life for you and you're excited to see what it brings.[COMPLETED]

Home is where you are by speia(oneshot, fluff, comfort)Just a casual Valentine's Day[COMPLETED]

Puzzle Pieces ✨by iimber(fluff, angst, mutual pinning, stalker)Years of piecing together your life to the point were it's near perfect come crashing down when you gain an extremely dedicated stalker. After coming to a head, you leave your life in Tokyo to seek safety back in Musutafu. [ONGOING<idk could be discontinued too😭>]

Shouta Aizawa x Emi Fukukado(Ms. Joke)

But I remember you✨✨ by JackieMoonshine (oneshot, fluff, humor)A fun EraserJoke one-shot that struggles with whether it wants to be a comedy or drama. Either way, I like it.[COMPLETED]

A Happy Family with Never-Ending Laughter ✨by Yojimbra (domestic fluff, humor, smut)In order to raise Eri properly, Eraserhead seeks help from the one person he can trust. Ms. Joke.Eri is so screwed.[COMPLETED]

Nature, Nurture, and Chocolate Milk  by  Nuclear_Equipped_ Walking _ Battle_Tank (oneshot, fluff, humor, izuku and shinsou are brothers)The Aizawa family goes shopping . An appropriate amount of tomfoolery ensues. [COMPLETED]

this sudden burst of sunlight, and me with my umbrella  by  lettersfromnowhere (fluff, angst, family feels)the one where Eri gets a mom, Aizawa gets a headache, Emi adopts half of UA, and laughter really is the best medicine.[COMPLETED]

he hadn't the time by ohmytheon (oneshot, friends to lovers, bad at feelings)Over the ten years that Shota has known Emi Fukukado, she has been far too loud, bubbly, bright, and positive for his taste. She's probably one of the most annoying people he knows. She is also an extremely capable hero and an excellent teacher. There has to be a reason that their paths keep meeting and it has to be more than just to drive him crazy.[COMPLETED] he took the time by ohmytheon (oneshot, smut, fluff)If Emi keeps joking about Shouta taking her home, one of these nights he's going to take her up on that offer. Turns out, it's not a joke at all, not one bit.[COMPLETED]

Bursting with Laughter, Blooming in Flowers✨ by dracula420 (hanahaki au, angst with happy ending, fluff)Emi Fukukado loves jokes. She’s got a million of ‘em. You ever heard the one about the girl that repressed her unrequited love until it turned into a disease? That ones a classic.[COMPLETED]

The Last Laugh ✨✨by FeralPen (friends to lovers, temp. unrequited love, fluff, light angst) Emi Fukukado had two goals in life: become the hero who makes everyone smile, and crack Eraserhead's shell to make him laugh. Getting a date along the way would just be a bonus.[COMPLETED]

Sands and eyelashes by Iamanormalperson(misunderstanding, pinning) Eraserhead and Ms. Jokes had taken down a villain. That's it, but the others saw something else.[COMPLETED]

Inside Joke by Huinari  (oneshot, fluff)Five times Ms. Joke asked Eraserhead to marry her, and one time she didn’t.[COMPLETED]

Subtle Like a Lion’s Cage by aactionjohnny(fluff, mutual pinning, hurt/comfort)Ketsubutsu is under construction, so the students are staying at UA. Unfortunately for Aizawa, that also means Ms. Joke will be around.[COMPLETED]

Never Again (but maybe I'll give you a chance) by SplashingInPonds (oneshot, feels)After a disastrous mess of emotions and a big joke at his expense in high school, Shouta Aizawa decided that he was never going to let himself feel that way again. That is until he meets a persistent woman with sea green hair that seems to actually hold something genuine underneath her overly jovial hero persona.[COMPLETED]

I’m Ms. Joke: Ask Me Anything! by dracula420(oneshot, humor) Aizawa lurks the internet and finds a rather interesting topic on a very famous forum site.[COMPLETED]

make your move by velvari (smut)Mr. Aizawa finally makes a move on Ms. Joke.[COMPLETED]

Drinking Makes the Truth Come Out by The_Sensei_Simp (oneshot, jealousy, fluff) Two years after the war, the Pro-Hero teachers of U.A. High School go out for drinks to celebrate their summer vacation, since they had not in a while. What happens when Shouta Aizawa runs into Ms. Joke the Smile Hero AKA Emi Fukakado, who catches his attention when a coworker of hers is too friendly with her and it makes him jealous?[COMPLETED]

[g4rvez-r3id]

A Chat About Books

S5! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer catches you reading a rather disturbing book on the jet and a discussion about books and reading ensues.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of a case, discussions about a disturbing book called ‘Playground’, talks about gore (not explicit, just mentions of it in the book), mentions of murder & children dying, mentions of the Foyet arc and 5x09 “100”, reader has a fear of flying, reader is lowkey embarrassed about what she’s reading? spencer is also *lowkey* a simp? reader loves reading (heh), reader & spencer have crushes on each other but the other doesn’t know (i think that’s it, but please let me know if there’s anything i’m missing 🙏)

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i’m in the middle of reading “Playground” by Aron Beauregard and oh my god???? 😧 anyways, i wanted to write a little blurb because i get embarrassed about the amount of books i buy and read and ik spencer would never judge 😌 i love ✨projecting ✨ but i’m thinking of writing a part two with smut🤭 let me know hehehe

The case was a quick one. Sometimes, they usually weren’t and the team would probably be holed up in some random state for about a week. The longest you stayed was two.

You’d been on the team for a couple of years now and still, sometimes you never got used to flying high up in the air. You were usually terrified to fly, but over the course of you being on the team, you eventually got used to it.

And then you remembered the one thing your colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, always suggested. Reading while flying. And it actually helped for flying on the way home. Usually flying to the case often consisted of debriefing and going over the M.O. and victimology. Flying home was always the better opportunity to get to reading your novels.

And you loved reading, so it gave you more of a reason to catch up on it. You often stuck to romance, but occasionally drifted into the horror genre, like you were now.

After the case in Minnesota — regarding your unsub killing prostitutes and then graduating to lower risk victims that reminded him of his wife who left him for his best friend — you were curled up in your seat on the jet, it’d been a while since you indulged in your reading without having your head full of thoughts. Since what happened with George Foyet taunting Hotch and his ex-wife and child going into witness protection and it ending with Haley being killed in the process, your head had been filled with so many thoughts and worries and stress for Hotch and his family that you could’ve even bury your face in a book until everything calmed down.

Spencer had noticed that you’d started reading again as he passed through the aisle on his cane and seated himself right next to you. He didn’t know what book you were reading but you’d been so focused on it, you didn’t even see that Morgan tripped over nothing in the aisle and tried to play it off like he didn’t. Usually, you’d laugh and tease Morgan like a brother since that’d always been your friendship with him but you didn’t even remove your focus from the book. Spencer thought it must’ve been that good of a book that you didn’t draw your attention to anything else.

He leaned over, trying to get a look at what you were reading but the book was nestled in your lap. “Whatcha reading?” Spencer finally asked and suddenly, your attention was finally drawn from the book. You almost flinched because you didn’t realize he was sitting next to you.

You quickly try and hide the cover since it’s a pretty gruesome sight so you turn it towards you in your lap. “Oh, it’s a— it’s a horror novel.” You tell. “You, uh, you wouldn’t like it.” You quickly add before he can ask what it was about.

“Why do you think so?” Spencer asks as he leans his cane over in the aisle.

You knew Spencer wasn’t one to judge, it’s what made liking him so easy. And yes, you’d admit it, you harbored a crush on the genius. And honestly, why wouldn’t you? He was amazing, sweet and insanely hot. He was everything you wanted in a man. You knew he probably didn’t feel the same way and that was okay. But finding out what type of horror novels you were into was probably a dealbreaker. Not just in a hypothetical relationship but in a friendship.

You see, the book you were reading was called Playground by Aron Beauregard. It was about an old woman who lured three families for their children to try out a playground structure for money. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the playground structure is basically a death trap for the children and their parents are forced to watch as their children try and survive the playground structure of death. It was your first time reading it and well, one time was definitely going to be enough.

And part of you worried about telling Spencer the exact kind of book you were reading and you worried that maybe he’d think you were some type of monster for reading a book such as the one you were holding now.

“It’s—It’s pretty gruesome.” You said and pretty gruesome was putting it lightly.

“So is what we see on a daily basis.” Spencer retorts and you nod with a small shrug, “Fair point.” You sit to face him and you begin to explain the book to him.

“It’s a different type of horror. Splatterpunk, if you will. Do you know what that is?” You ask and he nods, “A, uh, literary genre characterized by graphically described scenes of gory nature. In most cases, the gore described is extreme.” Spencer explains, literally giving you the definition he’d most likely read on paper on in a dictionary.

“Right,” You nod. “Well, the plot follows a woman by the name of Geraldine Borden. She was working on building revolutionary playground equipment for years. And she decides to invite three low-income families to the estate. All the parents have to do is have their children test out the playground equipment but — there’s a twist. The playground structure is actually full of death traps and the children are pretty much in danger the entire book and unfortunately, the parents are forced to watch as the children try to escape. Spoiler alert: I’m pretty sure none of them make it.” That was just a guess, it was your first time reading it after all.

“I thought you only read romance books.” Spencer stated and you shrugged, “I change it up a bit once in a while. I found this book online on some blog. A lot of people were talking about specific pages and parts in the book and well, curiosity killed the cat.”

“Why do you read splatterpunk?” Spencer decides to ask you and you look down at the book and then back at him as you admit — “Is it bad if I say it helps with my profiling?” Spencer furrows his brows as he looks at you curiously — “Really?”

“Yeah, in some of the books I read in this genre, the main character is usually a serial killer. Or killing is involved in the most extreme of ways. It helps you really get into the mind of a killer and see why they do what they do. If it makes sense without sounding totally crazy.” You explain, hoping to God that you don’t sound insane for using extreme books such as the one you’re reading now to get a deeper understanding about your job.

“I don’t think it sounds crazy,” Spencer interjected with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s just a different perspective on things.” You stare into his eyes with a smile and surely enough, you can just get lose into those hazel pupils of his. How a man can be as beautiful as him should be a damn crime.

You turn back to the cover of your book and set it down, the cover facing upwards and seemingly feeling a little secure in what you’re reading without feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well, this is my first time reading this book and well, probably will be my only time.”

“I’m assuming that the next time we’re in this position, you’ll be reading romance.” Spencer tells, considering that every time you’re on the jet, you’re reading a new romance book. The last time you were on the jet, you were reading a book called Praise and the author was Sara Cate. Spencer had gathered it was an erotic book, solely based on the fact that your face had flushed a couple of times while reading it and commenting that you needed to put a pause on reading until you got back home. He’d wished to know what exactly you were going to do once you got home that night.

“Oh, for sure. Those usually cheer me up from stuff like this.” You gesture to the book in front of you. “I’ve got to stop buying books, though.” You sigh sadly.

“When I was younger, my mother had always commented that I bought too many books. Said I should use the money for something a tad more useful. I can’t tell you how many Stephen King books I bought when I finally got a job. Every paycheck, it was a new book. I guess I need to outgrow the habit, sometime.” You look down, growing embarrassed again that you just spewed all of that to Spencer.

“I don’t think you can never have enough books,” Spencer tells. “No matter if it’s silly little romance books or anything of the horror genre, reading is a part of life. We shouldn’t shame other people for what we like.” He explains and you find yourself smiling again at him. “You’re right.”

Before you can go back to reading your book, you yawn behind your hand and Spencer leans over, “You should get some rest before we land.” He suggests, considering the fact that the entire time you were both in Minnesota, you barely slept. You drank coffee the entire time you were there, not wanting to bat an eye and have the unsub strike again. The most you slept was two to three hours at most. Both of your young minds working together would be the death of you one day.

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I’ll be fine.” Spencer looks at you carefully, “I know you’ll be fine, but you should get some rest. A short nap can often improve memory, improve job performance, lift your mood, make you more alert, and ease stress. They can also be good for your heart, too.”

You nod, your eyelids seemingly growing heavy after Spencer had talked to you about naps. “If you insist, pretty boy.” Stubborn as you were, the only person that could get you break was Spencer. He knew you were independent and always assured everyone you were fine. But Spencer always saw through it. You weren’t sure how he did, but he did, every single time.

So, you put your book down on the table and curled up in your seat as your head fell towards the armrest. Spencer had been in arm’s reach of the couch and grabbed the throw blanket that was perched there and quickly tossed it over your body. You looked down at you with a small smile on his face.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he always liked you. Like liked you more than a colleague. He liked you-liked you. There was something about you that lit up a room, something that he often noticed. And the fact that you’d had so much knowledge of books and the way you seemed to enjoy explaining a plot to him reminded him of himself a lot. You were so passionate about reading and books and he loved that little fact about you. He loved you. He loved your smile, your personality, your body.

And he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you that. And he hoped that maybe one day, he’d stop being a chicken for once and actually tell you how he feels about you.

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: IX | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 11,697

—  warnings: strong language, mention of sex, crying, mention of death, heartbreak, emotional pain, mention of a dark past, mention of murder, a lot of teasing (I mean they always tease each other), a lot of kissing, oral (f receiving), swearing, masturbation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, and creampie

—  author’s note: after all this wait, here’s the chapter 9!! sorry again for the wait, it hasn’t been easy at all lately, but my hand is finally and very slowly getting better. i’m still in pain, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it did for most of the days. sometimes the pain kicks back and almost makes me cry 😭 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter ✨ it’s also an emotionally strong one so be prepared!! many thanks for your support & love ❤️

Chapter IX: the power within

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Living with Jungkook has honestly been great so far. You’ve been going on plenty of dates, watching tv, eating together, showering together, and having a lot of sex. Every night, before falling asleep—or after a steamy session—he talks to your son and presses gentle kisses on your belly. It’s honestly the sweetest thing in the world.  

You smile just thinking about it. The way Jungkook lights up every time he talks to your belly and how his voice softens when he tells your son about his day makes your heart swell. He always traces gentle circles over your skin, whispering promises of love and protection, his warmth lulling you into sleep.

During the day, life with Jungkook is surprisingly easy, despite everything going on around you. He still has his duties as King, but he always makes time for you. Sometimes, you catch him sneaking glances at you from across the room, as if he still can’t believe you’re really here, carrying his child. And at night, when everything is quiet, he holds you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, as if he wants to protect you even in his sleep.

However, today, Jungkook is going to reveal to the council that the hybrid is actually his soulmate and is carrying the next heir. Obviously, he already knows Yuna’s reaction and answer to that, but he’s nervous to see the others’ reactions. They were quite accepting of the existence of a hybrid, but will they accept her as the mother’s heir?

Once all the members are gathered in the room, Jungkook stands up with a bright smile, his eyes gazing at each member. When he looks at Yuna, he only sees hate in her eyes, but he also finds pain. She’s definitely hurt that she’s not his soulmate—his queen. She had big dreams for her own future. She imagined herself as the next werewolf queen; Jungkook perfectly knows it, but they have never been soulmates, and they both know it.

“Thanks for coming to our monthly meeting,” Jungkook begins, and they all nod. “There is a special matter I would like to bring to you.”

Yuna gives him a withering look, understanding what he’s about to reveal.

“I guess you might have noticed, but I have mated with my soulmate,” he begins.

All of them nod, confirming that they notice the change in his scent. They had noticed it during the last meeting but remained silent, knowing it was Jungkook’s place to make the announcement. They respect their king and his private life.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” one of the three Bloods’ Alphas says with a wide smile on his face.

Jungkook knows that the Alpha thinks he found love with another Blood, but he’s far from the truth. His soulmate is a Shadow and a Hybrid. Your arrival has upended the royal family and shaken the entire werewolf world. And his unborn son is going to change absolutely everything.

“Thanks,” he offers a smile to the alpha. “And also, I’m about to become a father. The next king is expected to join us on June 12th.”

The council members applaud after hearing this great news. Not only has their king found his queen, but there’s also an heir on the way. Yuna applauds as well, but she’s far from being as happy as the other alphas.

“However, my soulmate is the hybrid I told you about during the last meeting.”

Surprisingly, their smiles don’t fade away, and they keep applauding. However, unsurprisingly, Yuna intervenes.

“So our next king will not only be impure but also carry Shadow blood?” she coldly asks. “And on top of that, our next queen is a hybrid.”

“With all due respect, Yuna, don’t ruin this wonderful moment with nonsense,” a Lunar Alpha claps back. “We’ve already accepted her existence, and I don’t see where the problem is if she’s our next queen and the mother of the next king.”

Hearing them call you their next queen feels strange to Jungkook, yet deep down, he knows it’s inevitable. He will do everything to make you the next werewolf queen.

“It’s about time things start to change here,” another Shadow Alpha says.

“Easy for you to say when it involves someone from your pack,” she almost shouts. “Now, your blood will be tied to the crown.”

“Where’s the problem?” A Blood Alpha asks.

Jungkook never imagined things would go this way. He always thought most Alphas would side with Yuna, yet here they were, defending you—and his unborn son. And above all, he never thought a Blood would stand against her and agreed that the next king wouldn’t be 100% a Blood.

His son is going to be 50% a Blood, 25% a Shadow, and 25% a human. All the kings and queens before him were 100% a Blood. Every king before him had been pure Blood. This is uncharted territory. He understands why some might resist change, but he’ll make sure they have no choice.

“The royal family has always been from the Blood’s pack,” she argues. “This is unacceptable.”

“Listen,” another Lunar intervenes. “The soulmate bond knows no boundaries. If our king was meant to be with a hybrid from the Shadow pack, then there’s nothing we can do. We might argue as much as we want, but it won’t change anything. He will choose her over and over again. He will make her our queen, no matter if we like it or not,” he adds. “We all know your past with the King, and we can understand it hurts you, but the soulmate bond is strong. On top of that, they already mated, so we can’t do anything.”  

Most people in the room have already mated with their soulmates. They understand Jungkook’s feelings, and more than anything, they understand what it truly means to find your soulmate. Yuna hasn’t found her soulmate yet, so she can’t understand this. Jungkook hopes she will find him or her and know what true love means. Even if she’s been a bit out of control lately, he wishes her the best.

“He is right,” Jungkook adds. “I’m not asking for your approval, I’m just informing you about the situation. For sure, it’s a relief that most of you accept the situation. It makes everything easier, but my son is on the way, and she’s my soulmate,” his eyes meet Yuna’s. “I hope you’ll find your soulmate and truly be happy.”

Sadness appears in her eyes, and Jungkook feels sorry for her. But there’s nothing he can do for her. He simply hopes that now she’ll leave you alone and won’t be bothering you anymore. He simply wants no more drama to happen until the end of the pregnancy. He wants you to enjoy every minute of this pregnancy because so far, it hasn’t been easy.     

Lately, it’s been hard to sleep through the night or even to fall asleep. Your mind keeps thinking about your paternal family and all the intense emotions you’ve been dealing with. It’s been quite hard to find your paternal family. It makes you feel like they aren’t living in the same city anymore. You asked your grandparents if they ever knew who your other grandparents were, but they actually never met them, which makes everything much harder.

Right now, the only thing you truly want is to meet them. To meet the people who raised your father, this extraordinary man. But it seems like the universe doesn’t want you to find them.

Slipping out of bed, you feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. Sleep does little to ease your mind, and the walls of Jungkook’s palace feel a little too suffocating. You need space to breathe and clear your head.

You reach for Jungkook’s clothes, drawn to their warmth. The special material they are made of feels soothing against your skin, and as you pull the oversized hoodie over your body, it almost feels like he’s holding you tightly in his arms.

With careful steps, you slip out of his impressive house, making your way toward the forest surrounding it. The pine trees welcome you with their familiar scent, crisp and grounding. For a moment, you close your eyes to inhale deeply, letting the cool air fill your lungs. This scent has always calmed you, but you’re not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s your wolf blood seeking comfort in nature. Maybe it’s just the simplicity of it all—something untouched, something real.

Your bare feet press against the damp earth. Here, among the trees, your thoughts finally slow. The storm inside you quiets, if only just a little.

But even in this fleeting peace, you can’t ignore the weight of everything that has changed. This new reality—this life you’ve been thrown into—still feels foreign, like a story being written for you rather than one you’ve chosen for yourself. No matter how hard you try to embrace it, there’s a part of you that still struggles to fully accept it.

At some point, you decide to sit down against a tree. Tears start forming in your eyes while you think about everything. Your dream of becoming a mother is finally happening, but it brought you to a world you never knew existed. But it also forced you to face your past. All your life, you never accepted your parents’ death, but you never truly faced it. You always pushed it aside.

However, now, you can’t run away from it.

It devastates you to finally understand why they died. It devastates you to realize they knew that one day you’ll be left alone. It devastates you to know they hid this all from you. It devastates you to have finally met your biological grandparents. These feelings are sometimes overwhelming and suffocating, and you feel sorry that Jungkook also feels them. You like him a lot, and you don’t want him to feel the same way. But there’s literally nothing you can do about it. Hopefully, right now, he’s sleeping peacefully and doesn’t feel a thing.

Slowly, you disappear, blurring yourself into the surroundings. This is honestly the best part of your powers. You can simply camouflage yourself at any point. For the past weeks, Jungkook has been helping you master your powers. It’s easier now to disappear than it was a couple of weeks ago. You don’t fully control everything yet, but slowly, you’re getting there.

You rub your hands on your face. Nothing has been easy lately, but you’ll forever be grateful for Jungkook. That man is a blessing. Speaking of him, suddenly, his presence grows stronger. He’s awake and looking for you, but you decide to remain invisible. You hear him walking closer, and seconds later, his body comes into view. Once he’s standing in front of you, he halts. Deep down, you hope he’ll go back home.

“Sunshine, where are you?” he talks through thoughts. “I can feel you.”

You don’t answer, your eyes looking up at him.

“Why are you hiding from me? Did I do something wrong?” he continues.

You close your eyes, your heart aching at his words. Jungkook never did anything wrong; it’s quite the opposite. He has never left your side. He has always protected you as much as he could from everything.     

“Don’t hide from me, yn,” his voice in your head is very soft and filled with pain. “I know something’s wrong. I can feel your overwhelming and suffocating feelings. My chest feels compressed, and I know it comes from you.”

Knowing he feels it as well breaks your heart even more.

“If it’s my fault, please let me know.”

“It’s not your fault,” you speak out loud as you become visible again.

His eyes follow the sound of your voice before he sits down next to you.

“I’m sorry you get to feel everything,” you murmur, your voice laced with guilt.

Your head rests on his shoulder, the warmth of his body grounding you. His lips press a soft kiss on top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles.

“It’s not,” you answer. “I’m a complete mess, and you get to experience it firsthand. I know you feel everything, Jungkook. I know it was hard for you when I met my grandparents; I could feel it.”

His silence speaks louder than words. You know that even though he tried to stay strong, he was hurting just as much as you were. Every tear you shed, every ache in your chest, he felt it too. This bond you share isn’t just about love—it’s about carrying each other’s pain, no matter how heavy it gets.

“I could hear you cry when your best friend Taehyung came.” Tears stream down your face as you recall that moment. “I’m very much aware this is a burden for you, and I wish I could take it away.”

Jungkook exhales sharply as he wraps an arm around you, holding you tight against him. His grip on you feels like he wants to somehow ease the pain for both of you. But you both know the truth; this bond is permanent and unbreakable. Whatever one of you feels, the other will always feel it as well.

“I won’t lie,” he begins. “It’s difficult to deal with your intense emotions.”

Your heart squeezes, guilt creeping in, but before you can say anything, Jungkook continues.

“But,” he adds, his voice softer now, “it’s not just the pain and sadness I feel. I also get to experience the good. I can feel how much my presence soothes you and how your whole body relaxes when I’m nearby. I know exactly how happy you are when I walk into a room, even when you try to hide it.” You hide your face in the crook of his neck, the heat growing in your cheeks.

A smile appears on his face as he watches you getting all shy. You’re absolutely adorable.

“And when something good happens to you, I feel it too—your excitement, your joy, the way your heart races with happiness. It’s overwhelming sometimes, yes, but not always in a bad way,” he adds.

His fingers find their way to your chin, tilting it up so your eyes can meet. His gaze is warm and steady, his deep brown eyes comforting your soul.

“There are ups and downs to this bond, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You and I, we’re connected in a way no one else can understand.” His fingers caress your cheek. “Feeling what you feel is just another reminder of that. A reminder that we’re meant to be. That we belong together.”

His words wrap around your heart like a comforting embrace, easing some of the guilt you feel. Because he’s right—this bond isn’t just about sharing the struggles; it’s about sharing everything. The love, the happiness, the quiet moments of peace. And you wouldn’t trade it either.

“And don’t even get me started on how it feels when we share an intimate moment.” He winks at you.

A little smile appears on your face at his words. Sex with him is overwhelming but in a very good way. He’s very skilled. Well, he’s very skilled in everything.

“Honestly, I never imagined the soulmate thing to be this hard, but life isn’t perfect,” he continues. “When we embarked on this journey together, we both accepted that we both have a past. They are heavy in different ways.” His thumb cleans the tears on your face. “Now, we get to share the present and the future together. And it will be beautiful.”

His words are comforting, giving you hope, hope that things might work out perfectly between you. Honestly, you’re absolutely terrified of the future. Your past is heavy, and you don’t want Jungkook to carry that pain with you. It seems easier to just put some distance between you and only co-parent. You’re convinced that being far from each other will help him to not feel your suffocating pain.

“But we both know my pain will haunt us for a long time,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It would be easier…” you seem to hesitate to finish your sentence. “To simply leave you,” you finish the thought through your bond.

Jungkook’s body freezes next to you, his breath hitching just slightly, but it’s enough for you to notice. Your words have hurt him; you feel it in the way his body tenses and in the sharp flicker of sorrow that echoes through your bond. You look away, not brave enough to face him. Your eyes stare at the canopy of trees standing in front of you, but you can still feel his intense gaze on you.

“That’s not how this bond works, sunshine,” his voice is quiet but firm, steady despite the storm raging inside him. The nickname warms your heart.

Finally, you decide to turn your face, your eyes meeting his. They are filled with an emotion so intense that it makes your chest tighten. He seems so hurt and vulnerable; it’s a side of him nobody has ever seen before. As the king, he always ensures that nobody sees him in a weak position. But he has feelings too, he’s not immune to it because he’s wearing an invisible crown.

“You can go as far as you want,” he continues, his gaze never leaving you. “But I’ll still feel everything. No distance will change that.”

“Jungkook…” you whisper as guilt starts to grow inside you.

But he shakes his head, shifting slightly so that his knee brushes against yours. The simple move sends shivers down your spine. This is the Jungkook effect on you. Every time his body brushes against yours, your entire body and soul react.

His next words come softer but no less certain. “You think leaving will make things easier for me? That I’ll be happier if you go?” you swallow hard as you hear his words. “You are my soulmate, yn. My mate. You leaving wouldn’t free me from your pain,” he pauses for a split second. “It would only add to it,” his voice breaks.

You didn’t think about it like that. This soulmate bond is still something so foreign to you even though you read books about it and his family talked to you about it. There are so many unknowns about this strong bond that links you to this marvelous man. You thought you would be sparing him, but in reality, you realize you’ll only be hurting him more.

Jungkook exhales sharply before lifting a hand and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, grounding. For a brief moment, you close your eyes to savor this intimate moment.

“Our bond has been consummated. There’s no turning back,” his voice is extremely soft.

You clench your hands together, your nails pressing into your palms.

“I just…” you exhale shakily. “I don’t want to ruin you.”

Jungkook lets out a soft breath. His fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your face up slightly so you have no choice but to look at him.

“You won’t,” he whispers. “I promise you that you won’t. I also have a dark side, and it’s a part of myself I don’t you to meet. But I know that eventually, one day, I’ll have no other choice than revealing it to you.”

Your faces are so close now, his hot breath caressing your face. The scent you now share surrounds you, a constant reminder of your bond. This scent is also what will forever protect you from enemies. People respect Jungkook, and through him, they’ll respect you, but sometimes you feel like it’s unfair. If it wasn’t for Jungkook, people would look down at you, and most probably, you’d be dead by now.

“We carry this together,” he says, his thumb ghosting over your cheekbone. “That’s what soulmates do. And if I have to feel your pain, I’ll gladly bear it, as long as it means I get to have you.”

Silence stretches between you, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. You want to argue, to tell him it’s not fair that he has to endure everything you feel. But the way he’s looking at you makes the words die in her throat.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say while you rest your head against his shoulder once more.

“Mmm,” he replies.

“If I wasn’t your soulmate and you had found out about me being a hybrid, would you have executed me and Mr Song?” you ask.

This question has been haunting you for a long time now. You never dared to raise it, too scared of his reaction and answer. It seems obvious that your fate would have been completely different. You’re sure you wouldn’t be breathing right now. Jungkook has been your protector, but what would have happened if he hadn’t?

Your boyfriend is taken aback by your question, although it’s something he sometimes wonders. He never lets his mind think of what he would have done if you weren’t his soulmate. However, now, he doesn’t have much choice but to reply. He takes his time to think about what he would have done.

“There are two possible scenarios,” he begins. “One where you still get pregnant with my kid but aren’t my soulmate, and the other where there’s absolutely nothing linking us.”

You nod as you realize that he’s right.

“In the first one, I would totally be torn apart between my desire to have a kid and my duty. But I’m sure I would have taken the same decision. I would have let you live and protect you as you’d be carrying my baby.”

This answer matches the way you envision him. Having a child is something rooted deeply inside him, and even though the circumstances wouldn’t be the greatest, his desire to become a father would have taken over the rest.

“In the second one,” he begins, his voice laced with emotions. “Even though my father would have protected you, I wouldn’t have been this gentle.”

Your heart beats extremely fast now, your mind racing with dark thoughts. Hearing those words makes you realize once more that the Jungkook you know isn’t the same as the king people see. He’s absolutely gentle, adorable, and protective with you, but he’s a tough and ruthless king.

“I can’t say with certainty that I wouldn’t have executed you,” he admits. “I would have sanctioned Mr Song for protecting a hybrid and breaking the law,” he pauses. “But you…”

Jungkook hesitates. His jaw tightens as he looks away, struggling to put his thoughts into words. The weight of his confession is heavy, and you can tell it unsettles him just as much as it does you.

“But you…” he repeats while rubbing his palm against his thigh. “I don’t know, yn.”

His voice is low. The fact that he doesn’t have a definitive answer sends a shiver down your spine. Because that means there’s a part of him, a part buried deep within his duty as a king, that might have sentenced you to death without a second thought.

“You would have killed me,” you say, and it’s not a question.

Jungkook flinches, his eyes snapping back to yours.

“I don’t want to lie to you,” he murmurs. “A hybrid being born was already a threat. You growing up and surviving long enough to enter my kingdom would have been worse. If I had seen you only as a hybrid and not as you, I…” he stops himself, shaking his head.

Silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. A part of you wants to be angry, lash out, and demand how he could even consider such a thing. But another part of you, the rational part, understands. He is a king; he should be the first to follow the rules.

“But even though I would have taken that decision, it would have destroyed me. I’m not sure I would have been the same after that…”

His confession lingers between you, raw and unfiltered. His dark side isn’t just about ruthlessness or control, it’s about the choices he could have made, the man he could have been if fate had twisted just slightly in another direction.

“Thanks for your honesty.” Your eyes look up at him, and he offers you a little smile.

For a moment, you remain in silence, your head on his shoulder and his hands caressing your waist. Your hearts pound at the same rhythm which calms you both. It’s not easy to even think about the possibility of what would have happened under other circumstances. It didn’t happen. Jungkook didn’t kill you, he actually did the opposite. He fell in love with you.

“We should maybe head back inside,” he breaks the silence.  

“I don’t want to,” you instantly say while you wrap your arms around his waist to hold him tighter.

“You’ll get sick, sunshine,” he insists. “And I don’t want that.”

You don’t answer, only holding him tighter in your arms. You don’t want to get back inside just now, it feels good to be right here with him. A smile appears on his face as you cling onto him. Then, without saying a word, Jungkook grabs you in his arms and carries you to the impressive house.

“Jungkook,” you hit his chest. “Put me down.”

“No,” his eyes briefly look down at you.

A smirk appears on his face as he adjusts his grip, effortlessly holding you against his chest.

“Jungkook, put me down,” you repeat as you look up at him.

“The answer is still the same. Repeating it won’t make me change my mind,” his tone is light and kind of teasing as well.

You roll your eyes.

“If you don’t want to get back inside, I’ll do it myself. Don’t want to risk the future Queen getting sick.”

Your cheeks instantly heat up at the mention of ‘the future queen’. It’s a title that has never once crossed your mind. But as Jungkook carries you effortlessly toward the house, the weight of those words settles over you, heavy and inescapable.

It makes sense, in a way. He’s the king. He’s your soulmate. If one day you marry him, you’ll take your place beside him as queen. The werewolf queen. The thought is both surreal and overwhelming. It’s like stepping onto a path you never intended to walk but somehow always belonged to.

A strange mix of emotions coils in your chest. Unease, excitement, and uncertainty. You’ve spent so much time just trying to survive, trying to exist, that the idea of ruling, of holding power, feels foreign. Yet, deep down inside you, something stirs—an undeniable pull toward the role, toward him, almost as if fate has been quietly building this into your story all along.

Still, the title lingers in your mind like an ill-fitting crown, one you’re not sure you’re ready to wear. And yet… Jungkook says it so effortlessly, as if it’s already decided. As if it’s inevitable. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine.

“Future Queen?” you raise an eyebrow. “Should I start practicing my royal wave now, or do I get a handbook on how to be a queen?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes with the brightest smile on his face. Although it’s annoying to see him rolling his eyes, you can’t help but find him extremely adorable. Jungkook’s smirk grows, clearly amused by your sarcasm.

“No handbook, but don’t worry, I’ll be your personal tutor,” he teases, tightening his hold on you. “Lesson one: Always listen to your king.”

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. You know he’s definitely not going to say something good. You’d even say that he’s about to say something dirty.

“Lesson two: If you dare to break rule number one, I might have to find creative ways to remind you who’s in charge.”

Jungkook is still being flirtatious, but you can see the lust growing in his eyes.

“Oh, is that so, Your Majesty?” you proceed to tease him. “What kind of creative ways do you have in mind?”

Jungkook smirks.

“If I told you, it would ruin the surprise. But let’s just say that you’d enjoy every second of it,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement and something darker.

In a matter of seconds, you’re both inside the house, in his bedroom, precisely. Jungkook finally puts you down, and then, without warning, he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss instantly takes your breath away. His hand rests behind your neck, pulling you into him. Your hands rest on his chest before gripping his shirt as you melt into the kiss.

His strong presence makes you forget about all the devastating thoughts you had earlier. His sweet words from earlier appeased your soul. It still aches you to make him feel your rooted pain, but he’s still staying. He’s not going anywhere. He’s ready to bear this pain with you even though it’s deeply suffocating. And above anything else, he has chosen to protect you from everybody since the very beginning, and he did even before you consummated your bond.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathless, and his dark eyes lock with yours. You know he can feel your pain leaving your body. You know he can feel how you’re relaxing, thanks to him. You know that, and you want him to feel everything. This is the good side of the bond you want to share with him.

His thumb gently brushes over your cheek, your eyes closing at the feeling, and his lust-filled eyes soften as he takes in your expression.

“I can feel it,” he whispers, answering your own thoughts.

“It’s the Jungkook effect,” you smile at him.

A smirk grows on his face. “The Jungkook effect?’ he asks.

“Yeah, it’s the effect you have on me,” you begin to explain. “It’s how my soul and body react to your mere presence. It’s how you constantly feel like a blanket around me and how turned on I get under your touch. It’s how my body gets on fire when you’re around.”

His eyes get dark all over again, the lust visibly growing in his eyes. Damn, he’s so fucking hot. This man’s effect on you is beyond anything you ever thought possible. Your body longs for him, 24/7.

“Then, let me talk about the yn effect,” he answers, his fingers brushing along your back before resting right above your ass. Jungkook leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to yours, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “It’s the way my entire world shifts the second you walk into a room. The way my chest tightens when you look at me like that, like I’m the only thing you see.”

His fingers press just a little firmer against your back. His other hand comes up to trace along your jaw, his touch featherlight but so intoxicating.

“It’s how your scent drives me insane, how my body craves yours even when you’re right here,” he continues, his lips brushing against your cheek as he speaks. “How just one look from you makes me forget every damn thing I was supposed to be doing. And don’t get me started on your touch because the second your hands are on me, I’m gone.”

He pulls back slightly, his smirk deepening as he watches your breath hitch. You look like a fucking dream. His dream. The dream he’s been waiting for his entire life. Even though it’s not easy all the time, having his soulmate finally with him feels like a constant blessing. And fuck, he adores to see you wearing his clothes. It fits you so well.

“So yeah,” he teases, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “I think I know a thing or two about this effect.”

Without any hesitation, you crash your lips on his after cupping his face in your hands. His hand on your back pulls you closer, your body pressed against his. You instantly feel his growing desire against your belly, causing a little moan to leave your lips.

“See,” he whispers against your lips. “This is the yn effect.”

His mouth finds yours for another kiss while your fingers find their way to his hair to play with it. The kiss quickly deepens, leaving no room for doubt about what is about to happen. His fingers move to the hem of your pants.

“You’re so fucking hot with my clothes on,” his lips brush against your ear, spending shivers down your spine. A smirk grows on his face when he feels the shivers.

His fingers push the pants down before he kneels slightly to peel the sweatpants down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in your underwear, the cool air against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. 

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs.

You obey, sitting at the edge of the bed. The man kneels before you, his hands placing your right foot on his thigh. His fingers trace along your leg, his movements slow and deliberate to torture you a tiny bit. They move higher while his face gets closer, pressing a featherlight kiss on your tight. His warm lips trail up, slowly and dangerously getting closer to your wet core. His breath is hot against your skin, a shiver running through your spine.

Jungkook stops when he has reached your clothed core, the heat of his breath making you moan.

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pushing the fabric down. He takes his time, while his eyes never leave yours. He looks like a damn sin when he looks at you like that. That sight alone can make you come right now. Well, this man can make you come by only being next to you.

Jungkook leans back in. His lips graze your skin as he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath brushing over you and making your muscles tense. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his lips finally taste you without hesitation. 

The first brush of his lips against your clit is teasing, his eyes looking up at you to catch your reaction.

“Stop teasing,” your hand finds your way to his hair to firmly push him closer to your pussy.

“Your orders are my command, my Queen,” he teases before his lips seal around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

A strangled gasp escapes your mouth, your back arching instinctively as pleasure pulses through you. Your eyes look down at the man pleasuring you. It’s so fucking good to have him in between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

“Fuck,” you moan.

Unintentionally, as his tongue licks that sweet spot, you close your legs, trapping his head in between them. A groan leaves his lips as you do so, which sends shivers down your spine and increases the pleasure intensity.

Even though he adores being suffocated by your legs, he wants to breathe, so his large hands spread them. His gaze flickers up to meet yours.

“Don’t kill me, sunshine,” he whispers against your core.  

The vibrations of his voice send a wave of pleasure straight through your body. Your hips buck forward, pushing his face even closer—if that’s even possible—and your fingers tighten in his hair as a trail of moans falls from your lips.

His mouth works you over with tremendous hunger, tongue torturing you like never before while his lips seal around your clit. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement, and you know he probably can't breathe. But he couldn’t care less.

You throw your head back while moans flow out of your mouth. Hopefully, the household staff won’t be woken up by your high-pitched moans. The growing pleasure is overwhelming but in a fantastic way, and your body trembles beneath his relentless tongue.

Jungkook is savoring every second, reveling it in the sounds falling from your lips. He wants the whole world to hear you, to know that only he can bring you this kind of pleasure. A satisfied hum vibrates against you, sending shocks through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he takes it as encouragement—deepening his devotion, pushing you further.

“Jung…” you barely manage to say his name because of his tongue working wonders on your core.

“Yes, sunshine,” he murmurs against your pussy.

Your fingers tighten even more in his hair, Jungkook enjoying the pain it brings to him.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you finally say.

The way you say his name when you’re overwhelmed with pleasure is his favourite sound in the world.

“Tell me, sunshine,” his eyes look up at you.

“Gonna,” you say between moans. “Cum.”

He groans, his dick is getting so compressed in his sweatpants. The way you say his name, combined with your orgasm being so close, turns him on in an unbelievable way.

Before you even realize it, your orgasm violently hits you, your legs shaking and squeezing his face, and your wall clenching around emptiness. Even though you’re coming hard against his lips, Jungkook doesn’t stop lapping at your juices falling on his tongue. He savors every drop because damn, he’s never tasted something as addicting as you.

Once you come down from your high, he pulls away. His face glistens with your slick, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with hunger. He looks so sinfully angelic. He’s your angel. Before standing up, he pushes your shirt up, revealing your growing belly to his hungry eyes. He presses a gentle kiss on your belly. Amid this dirty moment, he still manages to make it sweet.

“Hope you’re closing your eyes, baby boy,” he whispers against your bump. “Mommy and Daddy are doing some nasty stuff.”

A giggle escapes your lips, and your hand strokes your little bump.

“I think he’s already getting used to it,” you reply. “You can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“How could I?” he says while he presses another kiss on your belly. “You’re the prettiest and hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I’d make love to you 24/7 if I could.”

“Our kid will be born traumatized,” you chuckle.

You’ve stopped counting the times Jungkook’s cock, fingers, and mouth have visited your pussy.

“You’re exaggerating as always,” he rolls his eyes.

“Says the drama queen,” you directly answer.

Jungkook stands up, a bright smile on his face, before pushing down his pants and boxers. A sigh of relief leaves his lips the second his cock is finally free. It was getting painful to keep it inside his pants.

You lean back as you hold yourself with your upper arms, your eyes hungrily admiring the man that his stripping for you.

“Jungkook Junior is already very hard,” your eyes look up to meet his.

Once he’s fully naked, his right hand finds its way to his cock, stroking himself. He’s not even sure he’ll last long.

“Your pussy drives me crazy,” he admits. “I could come in my pants eating you out.”

His grip tightens around his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. The simple fact that he’s masturbating in front of you is an incredible turn on, you can feel your pussy get even wetter.

“Strip for me, sunshine,” he commands.

You simply nod as you stand up. You take all your time to remove the hoodie, giving this man a little show. You lift the hoodie over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

The second you’re fully naked, you notice his jaw flexing. His thumb swipes over the top of his cock, spreading the precum.

“No bra?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t sleep with a bra,” you tell him. “And I definitely wasn’t going to put one just to go to the woods around the property.”

“Thankfully, it was just the forest and not somewhere public. I’d hate to have to rip someone’s eyes out if they ever got to see what’s only meant for me,” he replies.

You roll your eyes, his hand still stroking his hard member. The simple thought of someone seeing you while you’re not wearing a bra makes his breath hitch. He’d lose his mind if that ever happened.

You walk closer but maintain a certain distance between you. His hand stops stroking his cock as you step closer. You’re in a teasing mode, you always adore teasing this man, to push him to the edge. Your lips curl into a teasing smirk. Jungkook’s eyes drop down on your body before you playfully tilt your head.

“Maybe tomorrow morning…” you muse, your voice light, deliberate. “I’ll take a little stroll around the estate… in just one of your shirts.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening as his dark eyes lock onto yours. His hand even tightens around his shaft, a barely audible groan escaping his lips.

“Yn,” he warns, his voice deep, rough, and laced with something dangerously controlled.

“What?” you grin as you get slightly closer. Your fingers trace across his collarbone, a shiver running through his body. “I thought you liked me in your clothes.”

His hands are on you in an instant, firm at your waist, pulling you into him. Your bodies are flush, heat radiating between you, and you can feel the way his muscles tense beneath your fingertips.

“I do,” he murmurs, his lips dangerously getting closer to yours. “But if you keep teasing me…” his voice trails off, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin.

You raise a brow, pretending to consider. “If I keep teasing you… what?”

His smirk is slow, wicked. He leans in, brushing his lips along the shell of your ear before answering in a husky whisper.

“If you keep teasing me, trust me, you won’t be able to walk away so easily afterward,” his fingers trail along the small of your back, igniting a trail of heat. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you want,” he muses, his lips hovering over yours. “To see how far you can push me… to see what happens when you do.”

He lets the tension build, his breath fanning against your skin, before delivering the final blow with a smirk.

“But if that’s the game you want to play, just remember… I always win.”

Jungkook walks to the bed, his hand on your waist, dragging you with him. He very gently lays you on the mattress of his bed, and then his lips crash against yours. His body presses flush against yours, heat radiating between your bodies as he deepens the kiss.

“If you weren’t already carrying my child, I’d get you pregnant right now,” those words send shivers down your spine.

Your boyfriend’s forehead rests against yours for a moment, his fingers brushing your jaw. His lips press another kiss on yours before he looks down between your bodies. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself slowly.

“You’re so hot when you touch yourself,” you tell him, your eyes dark with lust.

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod. “And how do I look when I touch you?”

“Even hotter,” you whisper before cupping his face to kiss him.

When you break the kiss, he holds you open as he guides the head of his cock into your sopping entrance. For a moment, he teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A deep moan leaves your throat as he stretches you open. Your walls clench around him as Jungkook Junior makes his way inside your pussy. By reflex, your back arches, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper.

“Fuck,” he mumbles the second he looks down, watching the way your body takes him in. “I’m so fucking addicted to you, sunshine.”

Jungkook pushes himself further until he bottoms out. The second he’s fully inside, he halts to give you both a moment to adjust. It’s extremely pleasurable, and he knows that if he starts thrusting into you, he’ll just come right now, and he honestly doesn’t want that. He wants this to last as long as possible. All he wants is to make love to you all night long.

“Jungkook, move please,” you beg him.

Having him still inside you is torture. You can’t handle staying like this, you need him to move and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“As you wish, my Queen,” he teases as he slowly pulls back, and he pauses for a second when only the thick head of his cock remains inside.

Without any warning, he pushes back. Feeling his thick shaft pushing deeply back into you is beyond satisfying. Damn, it even makes you see stars. Both of you moan loudly as he starts pounding into you. This man right here just knows how to make love to you.

His pace is restless, your body quickly shaking with each movement. His hands grip your waist tight as the room gets filled with the slick sound of your moans, of the headboard of the bed hitting the wall, of your bodies slapping together, and of your pussy soaking his cock. The heat builds in your core as he slams into you, filling you completely with each thrust.    

Your hands grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts. Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this; you can see it in his eyes. His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss while his thrusts grow rougher and quicker.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispers against your lips.

“Don’t even get me started on how you drive me crazy,” you reply.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach while your boyfriend moans your name. He’s definitely getting more and more lost in his pleasure, and he sounds and looks like an angel. Your angel. The only thing you’re both focused on now is chasing your high, and the heat between you is unbearable. You both know you won’t be lasting much longer.  

With the noise you’re both making, you’re sure that the household staff hears it. Even though they aren’t werewolves and don’t have super hearing, you’re just making a big mess, and anybody with two ears can hear it. You feel sorry for them. You know tomorrow they will be talking about it. But the pleasure is too overwhelming, and you can’t help but moan louder and louder.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” you manage to say to your boyfriend, the desperation filling your voice.

His cock twitches inside you at your words, and well, that action causes your orgasm to crash over you. Your walls squeeze him tight while you’re completely and violently hit by your orgasm. Jungkook groans when he feels your wall clenching around his cock.   

His thrusts get more desperate as he starts chasing his own high. He’s so fucking close. Jungkook closes his eyes because the simple view of your face contorting with pleasure is just too much. Your walls keep tightening around him, a torture you impose him to help him cum.

“Fuck,” he groans.

And then, with one last thrust, he falls apart. Deep groans fall from his lips as he releases his hot semen inside you, painting your velvety walls white. His hands tighten around your waist, holding you still while he releases himself deeper in you. He looks incredibly sexy when the orgasm hits him.  

Jungkook collapses next to you in bed. His breathing is heavy, his eyes fixed on the ceiling just like yours.

“Don’t ever try again to push me away, yn,” he says without looking at you. “I won’t ever let you go,” his eyes finally meet yours, intense and unwavering. “Not when you’re my soulmate.”

You get closer before resting your head on his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you.

“Close your eyes,” Jungkook says, “and focus only on your breathing or heartbeat.”

You do as he says, but in all honesty, the sound of your baby’s heartbeat is the only thing you can truly focus on. The same heartbeat that rocks you to sleep every night.

For a month now, you’ve been having classes with Jungkook to master your transformation. It hasn’t been easy, but it feels like you’ve progressed a bit in a month. This control over your shift is mostly related to your emotions and also the moon. And the full moon is also in two days, so it’s getting harder to control everything. But in the end, that’s why you’re doing this.

On top of these classes with Jungkook, you’ve also been having self-defense classes with a man named Jimin. He’s the son of an old friend of your mother. Your boyfriend thought it’d be easier if it was a Shadow who would help you to defend yourself with your own abilities. It’s not easy, but Jimin has been nothing but a sweetheart with you. He’s tough when it comes to teaching you, but he’s been encouraging you so much.

When Jungkook feels like you’re grounded, he continues his lesson.

“Okay, now, imagine Yuna showing up here and ready to explode, threatening you and our child,” he tells you.

Your jaw clenches at the mere thought. You can perfectly picture her coming your way with anger all over her face. The same anger that was on her face when she showed up at your place a month ago. You can also imagine the sharp words leaving her mouth.

Your heart rate increases, and you can already feel the familiar heat rushing through your veins—the first sign of your transformation stirring beneath the surface. You can feel yourself losing control. It feels similar to when you shift during the full moon, but it’s still different. Jungkook told you that the transformation sensations would be different depending on the moon phase.

Jungkook steps closer, his hands gently gripping your arms.

“Don’t fight it,” he instructs. “Acknowledge the anger, the fear, but don’t let it take over. You control the shift, not the other way around.”

You swallow hard, nodding, trying to focus. But the thought of Yuna threatening your baby boy makes your wolf instincts emerge at the surface. Your fingertips tingle, and you swear you can feel your claws growing. Jungkook closely listens to your heartbeat and focuses on every emotion that he feels through your soulmate bond.

“Breathe, sunshine,” Jungkook reminds you, his voice grounding you like an anchor while the anger is slowly but surely taking over you. “Use that fire, but don’t let it consume you.”

Your chest rises and falls as you force yourself to breathe, to harness the emotions instead of drowning in them. You close your eyes, envisioning yourself standing firm. The power is still there, but instead of letting it erupt uncontrollably, you try to mold it, shaping it to your will.

Something you’ve noticed that seems to be working is thinking about the people you love and a good souvenir you have with them. Each time, it’s a different souvenir that seems to work. Today, your mind is brought back to a couple of months ago. To the day you met Jungkook.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago, yet it has only been four months. You can still perfectly picture him in that cold room, seconds before finding out about the mistake. He was so mysterious, yet undeniably charismatic. Something about him was drawing you in. After spending the past few weeks getting to know him, you’ve come to realize that the first version of him you met was his royal self. You met the king before you met your soulmate.

It was the beginning of this great adventure. An adventure where you get to become a mother. That thought warms your heart, and you feel yourself calming down.

When you open your eyes, they get blue. Jungkook smirks as he notices your blue eyes and claws.

“See? You’re getting there,” he says.

“It’s easy when you make me want to punch your ex,” you mumble, your fangs growing in your mouth.

Suddenly, a protective aura rises from within you. It’s strange and unfamiliar but extremely powerful. Is it the soulmate bond? Is it Jungkook trying to shield you? This is so new and pretty confusing.

“Is it you?” you ask, arching a brow at your boyfriend, your gaze locked on his.

“What?” he looks genuinely perplexed. “What am I doing?”

This is not him; you can tell by his expression. He’s not teasing you, he’s very serious. You frown, very confused with what is going on. What is this? Where is this coming from?

“What’s going on, yn?” Jungkook is getting worried.

Slowly, you shift back to your human form, too focused on trying to understand what is going on. You can’t really describe it, but it’s extremely powerful, and it’s coming from inside you. It feels like someone wrapped a blanket around you, a force trying to reassure you.  

“I don’t know,” you answer, your mind trying to find the source of this power.

You close your eyes, the world around you disappearing completely. It’s just you; even Jungkook disappears, which is kind of new. But then, a strong heartbeat echoes, reminding you that you’re not alone. There’s still your baby, the one growing inside you. His heartbeat had never been this strong. This is also new.

Slowly, you feel the heartbeat growing stronger while this protective aura grows as well. Then, it hits you. It is your baby boy. Your baby boy is protecting you. How is that even possible? Jungkook’s mother never mentioned anything about this. Did she forget? How could she? She had four kids.

Instinctively, your hands move to your stomach as if you’re trying to tell your son that you feel him. That you know it’s him.

You open your eyes again; they take back their blue and wolfish appearance. Jungkook is standing in front of you, worry written all over his face.

“It’s him,” you mumble while grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and placing it over your belly.

As his hand touches you, he instantly feels the power radiating from the baby, and it’s something unlike anything he’s ever encountered in his life. His entire body tenses as he feels this raw strength.

“How can it be?” he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “Nobody mentioned this.”

His breath stutters, and before he can suppress it, his wolf surges forward in response. His red eyes flash to the surface, instinct reacting to the sheer force of what he’s feeling. Jungkook exhales sharply, his fingers pressing harder against your stomach, but he’s still making sure not to hurt you.

“This is new,” he admits.

Jungkook had never felt anything like it. Not even from full-grown wolves at their strongest. And this… this is coming from someone who hasn’t even been born yet. He really doesn’t understand this. Is it related to the fact that you’re a hybrid? Is it related to the fact that he belongs to two different packs? Or is he simply a powerful werewolf? He will definitely do some research to understand this.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus, but your son's energy stirs something primal inside him. His wolf blood reacts to it, unable to resist and ignore your son's undeniable presence.

“He’s strong,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He looks at you, then back down at your belly. “Really strong. I’ve never felt something like this.”

Jungkook is left with so many questions. Did his parents feel something like that during each pregnancy? Did even his sister feel this? For sure, he never felt anything this powerful whenever his sister would put his hand on her stomach.

For the first time since feeling it, his lips curve into a slow, almost disbelieving smirk.

“God help us and anybody else when he’s born.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you answer. “I’m sure Alphas are stronger than him.”

“Believe me, sunshine,” he retorts. “I can’t even tame my wolf side, and I’ve been in control of that side for many years.”

You seem not to fully believe him, thinking he’s likely overacting because it’s his son. But one thing is sure, your baby son is strong. That’s something you don’t doubt at all. And it leaves you wondering how it will be once he’s born.

Jungkook kneels down, his fingers pushing your shirt up before pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

“Seems like you’re a powerful little boy,” he whispers to your son. “And it excites me even more to meet you.”  

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him talking to your baby. Jungkook does this at least twice a day, in the morning and the evening, and it’s the cutest thing in the world. The obstetrician informed you that the baby’s father should talk to him every day so he’ll recognize his father’s voice by the time he’s born.

“I already love you so so much, my little man,” he presses another kiss.

He presses his forehead lightly against your stomach, eyes closed as he absorbs every pulse of energy radiating from your son. He smiles as he feels it, knowing that it’s the baby reacting to his voice. To his father’s voice. You watch Jungkook in awe. This fierce and formidable man surrenders to something so small yet already so mighty.

After a moment, a little chuckle escapes his lips, and he glances up at you. You furrow your brows, wondering what is going through his mind and why he’s chuckling.

“I hope he doesn’t give us too much trouble,” he says, his hot breath caressing your stomach and sending shivers down your spine. “Something tells me he’s going to be a handful.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?” you smirk, tilting your head.

Jungkook gives you a pointed look, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist as he slowly rises to his feet. His hand pushes down your shirt to cover your baby bump while his red and wolfish eyes take back their brown and human form. 

“Well, for one, he’s your son,” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “Which means he’s going to be stubborn, unpredictable, and impossible to handle when he sets his mind on something.”

“Excuse me? As if you’re any better,” you gently hit his chest.

Jungkook lets out a deep laugh, his arms circling around you as he pulls you close, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Fair point,” he whispers. “Which means we’re doomed.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but deep down, you know he’s right. Your son isn’t even born yet, and he’s already proving to be strong. The thought sends a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation rushing through you. Sensing your emotions, Jungkook tightens his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“But no matter how strong he is,” he reassures you, his voice quieter now, “he’s ours. And we’ll figure it out together.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you nod, resting your head against his chest. You know that no matter what happens, you’ll have Jungkook by your side. You won’t be facing anything alone, and honestly, you don’t want it any other way.

Today, you wonder how things would have turned out if the clinic had never told you about the mistake. Most probably, you would have never met Jungkook, and you would be dealing with this crazy pregnancy by yourself. You also wonder if things would have been the same if Jungkook wasn’t the father of your baby.

If you got inseminated by the donor you chose, would the pregnancy have awoken all your wolf abilities? That’s something you’ll never know, but you’re grateful that things went this way because you got to discover yourself.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Together.”

Jungkook’s mother and sister, together with her kids, are here to pay you a little visit. Since you’ve gotten to meet his family, you’ve grown closer to them. Most of them were a bit skeptical at first due to your nature, but they saw you beyond it. You’re a person, just like them, and you also are a werewolf. His mother actually loves you; she can spend hours with you, and you love spending some time with her. She’s been helping you a lot with the pregnancy.

“I’ve done some research about this whole hybrid law,” his mother informs you while you watch Jungkook holding his youngest nephew.

His nephew, Taemin, is only seven weeks old. He’s so tiny but so adorable, and Jungkook loves to be around him. It’s like he’s preparing himself before your son finally joins you. He turns around to look at his mother when she speaks.

“Why?” he furrows.

“I was intrigued,” she explains. “We all followed the rule so blindly, and we never truly wondered why.”

“Not everyone,” he points out.

She nods, remembering that her husband and son didn’t really follow the rule. All because of you. But today, she’s glad they didn’t.

“In your father’s personal library, I first found a book explaining the reasons behind each rule in our world,” she begins. “The reasons for the hybrid law weren’t really clear, but they implied that a king put it in place due to a threat. I wasn’t really convinced by this explanation because it didn’t make any sense. So, I kept looking.”

You and Jungkook are listening very closely to what she’s saying. You’re intrigued to discover what she found out.

“Eventually, I came across an ancient book,” she continues. “A book written by one of your ancestors, King Yisun. In it, he relates that he had a friend who could apparently see the future. This friend foresaw that one day, a powerful ‘mixed’ werewolf would rise to become king. By ‘mixed’, he meant half-human and half-werewolf.”

She pauses, letting the weight of that revelation settle in.

“King Yisun feared that such a werewolf would pose a threat to his reign, so he took drastic measures. He outlawed unions between werewolves and humans, ensuring that no hybrid could ever be born. And to further protect the throne, he decreed that only members of the Blood’s Pack could be part of the royal bloodline.”

“So, you’re saying that a king out of paranoia or fear or whatever decided to ban hybrids?” Dohee, Jungkook’s sister, says.

“That’s what it seems like.”

Even though it might sound crazy, King Yisun lived centuries ago. The world was completely different. What seemed like a threat back then isn’t one anymore. He feared for himself and his reign and did what he could to protect that. However, this law killed a lot of people, your parents included.

“Well, today, it sounds like a very stupid decision, but we can’t forget that King Yisun reigned in the 16th century. He did what he thought was best for himself,” Jungkook begins. “But the most foolish people were the kings that came after and maintained that law without even knowing why.”

You couldn’t agree more with him. For King Yisun, it made sense to create this rule, but for the others after, it didn’t. Most of them didn’t know why this rule was made but still kept it. It’s such an outdated rule. The irony is that the friend was right after all. Your son, a ‘mixed’ werewolf, will one day become a king. Your son will be the first king to carry human blood. He’ll be the first one not to be a hundred percent a werewolf.

“In the end, King Yisun’s friend was right,” Dohee says with a smile on her face. “A mixed werewolf will be king, but only centuries later.”

Jungkook smiles while he looks at you. He looks damn great with a child in his arms, and this will be a vision that you’ll daily have very soon. Father Jungkook looks great on him.

“Indeed,” you reply.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, his eyes still on yours. “I don’t think King Yisun could ever imagine how powerful that hybrid would be.”

His mother and sister look at him, confusion written all over their faces.

“What do you mean?” his mother asks as she frowns.

“Can we tell them?” he asks you through thoughts.

You nod, silently encouraging him to go on. They should know about it. Maybe they can even help you understand this better. Maybe they will even tell you that Jungkook is wrong. At least, that’s what you want to believe. He lets out a slow breath before speaking again.

“I can already feel him,” he says, his voice quieter. “Not just in the way any expecting father would. I mean, I can feel him. His presence, his power. And it’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.”

“Wait… are you saying…” Dohee blinks.

Her eyes go from you to Jungkook, and you both nod, confirming what she thinks.

“He’s still in the womb, and yet his power is strong enough to stir my wolf. The other day, yn could feel him protecting her, and when I touched her stomach, it hit me so intensely that I could barely contain myself. My eyes changed without even realizing it.”

His mother seems extremely confused and surprised.

“I know we can feel babies when they’re still in the womb. I mean, I experienced it with you, Dohee, but this was very much different.”  

“Maybe we can try to do what we did the other day so you can see for yourselves,” you suggest to his mother and sister.

They both nod, more than eager to experience your son’s power firsthand.

“Okay, then let’s do it,” Jungkook answers.

Your boyfriend places his nephew in the crib while you stand up. Once the baby is lying down, Jungkook walks in your direction. He stands tall in front of you, his mother and sister very close to you.

“Imagine again, Yuna threatening you and our son. Imagine her being here, angry as hell.”

You close your eyes, seeing her face all over again. You don’t really like this, but man, if you can feel your baby’s warmth again, it’ll be worth it. Jisoo and Dohee look closely at you, understanding that you’re trying to tame your emotions and the wolf inside you. You take deep breaths, your mind focusing on not losing control.

You can feel the first signs of the transformation, your claws growing in your hands, and you know your eyes have taken their wolf aspect. Slowly, you sense, for the second time, the power radiating from within you. A warmth spreads inside you, like it’s trying to protect you from the outside world. However, this time around, the protective aura makes you blend into your background.

“It’s him,” you tell them. “He made me disappear.”

A smile grows on your face while your hands snail down to caress your stomach.

“It’s okay, my wolfy,” you whisper to your baby. “Nobody is going to hurt us.”

Although you wish to reappear so they can all feel your son’s strong energy, this is him protecting you. This isn’t up to you. It’s up to him. But as you gently stroke your stomach trying to reassure your baby, you slowly get back into vision. Instantly, your hand grabs Jisoo’s hand to place it on your stomach.

“Oh,” she says with evident surprise.

Then, Jungkook and Dohee also place their hands on your bump. They feel it too, the strong energy coming from inside you. The three of them struggle to contain their wolf side, their eyes turning red. You smile because damn, this little kid is already so so powerful, and it’s your son. You couldn’t be prouder.     

His mother inhales sharply, her lips parting slightly as she’s definitely struggling to tame her wolf side. The energy your son is giving off stirs something primal inside the three of them. Their wolf bloods react to it, unable to resist and ignore your son's undeniable presence.

“This is not normal,” she finally says. “Not even Alphas can do that before birth.”

“Woow,” Dohee says. “I’ve never met someone so powerful. Let alone someone that isn’t even born yet. How is it for you?” her red eyes meet your blue ones.

“It feels like someone is placing a warm blanket around me, like someone is trying to protect me from the outside world. It feels extremely powerful, but in a good way,” you explain.  

“And if he’s this powerful now, imagine what he’ll be like when he’s born,” his mother says before she removes her hand.

Dohee lets out a low whistle, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Damn, no wonder King Yisun was terrified of a hybrid becoming king. If your son is already radiating power before even taking his first breath…” she trails off, clearly stunned.

His mother, however, remains silent for a moment, deep in thought. She sits down on the couch, trying to understand what she just experienced. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at her lips.

“Then maybe,” she says softly, “he’s exactly what this kingdom has always needed.”

“What could be the reason?” Dohee wonders. “I mean, he’s already mixed from being a child of the Bloods and the Shadows. There are millions of mixed werewolves, and they never were this powerful. And on top of that, he carries human blood.”

“Yn and him are the first hybrids. We know nothing about them, so we’re discovering everything through them,” Jungkook begins. “Maybe human blood only makes them stronger and not weaker.” Well, you don’t know what makes your son so special, but one thing is for sure. You are already so proud and so in love with him.

[acotarxreader]

Honey

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Azriel frequents the hotel in Hewn City that you manage with his many lovers, a source of your constant teasing until Azriel can't replace the way he feels about you with anyone else.

Warnings: Silly, fluff, banter, back and forth hehe, a lil slut shaming moment

A/N: Hello friends, it was recently my birthday and now I am travelling in celebration but not before put out this is silly little cute fic, originally titled Heartbreak Hotel but I think Honey just fitted so much more, you'll of course see why. I'm working on a second party of Mirror but still haven't decided if it's ready or not yet ✨

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Your legs laid one over the other beneath the large oak desk, one-foot tip tapping, the sound of the large grandfather clock’s beating heart filling the lobby. Your head rested on your hands between the shadows cast by large stacks of unchecked paperwork. The ring of the well-rung bell forced you upright in your chair once again as a cloaked figure entered the hotel accompanied by a bubbly, bright female who seemingly couldn’t believe she had been chosen. You scoffed at the two of them, the male approaching you familiarly while the female absentmindedly twirled her hair by the stairs.

“One room please” he spoke quietly through his hood, a scarf obscuring his lower face. 

“No problem, here are your keys, one for you and one for Honey over there”

“My name isn’t Honey?” the female tilted her head, her doe eyes sparkling at you before she found her attention taken by the bowl of centuries-old sweets on the coffee table of the lobby. 

“Oh Honey, not like it matters” You smirked quietly to yourself for only him to hear. You offered the two keys between your fingers, his scarred hands taking them softly before he turned on his heels.

“Have fun Honey”

“Why does she keep calling me Honey?” the female asked him as he practically swept her up the stairs ahead of him, not bothering to answer her. You returned to your resting position, eyes landing on the booming clock to begin your timer. 

Sometime later Azriel came quickly down the stairs, solo, you grinning from behind your desk at the sight of a slightly dishevelled warrior. 

“Must have been chatty, two hours and…seven minutes, new record” You chuckled, your palm flat waiting to receive the key.

“You’re very judgemental, it’s bad for your skin” he teased.

“Keeps my heart young though” He smiled through the scarf covering the bottom half of his face, the corners of his eyes lifting to match yours. 

“I come here for discretion, perhaps I have overstayed that courtesy”

“Whatever, you know you love me” You batted your eyelashes in faux obsession that was very rapidly becoming less and less faux.

“I tolerate you, honey” You scoffed at his reply, taking the key, his hazel eyes examining you closely. It had been close to a year since Azriel had begun to show up occasionally with his Hewn City conquests. The hotel you managed was on the very outskirts of Hewn City, at the very limits of the mountain, too far and too cold for most to trek to. 

“Whatever” you stood, slogging your bag across your back as the sound of another Fae shuffling in the background got louder. You slid over the desk with the agile grace that comes with years of practice, landing at Azriel’s feet  

“And where are you off to?”

“Home” You strode past him, the female taking over your shift sank into your chair without so much as a goodbye. You strolled into the dark streets of the enclave in the mountain, conscious of the shadows that followed you.

“Unbefitting of a lady to travel in these streets alone”

“Unbefitting of a gentleman to comment” You shot back at him, a few steps trailing you from behind. 

“If you’re going to murder me, at least walk beside me until you decide the right time, the hovering is creepy honey” He quickly closed the distance he held from behind you, meeting your side with a curiosity he couldn’t quash. 

“How I do love our time together…ehh” You stopped still at his words, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Really? It’s been like a year and you don’t know my name”

“I hadn’t realised such a thing would bother you, honey” The corner of his eyes turned up, his deep smirk masked behind his handkerchief. 

“You bother me” You lied, striding once more through the icy winter streets, the mountain's deep core working overtime to shield from the arctic temperatures on the other side of the shell. 

“At least I know you think about me, honey”

“Yeah, I think of how your money is gonna free me from here” You half laughed, feeling Azriel stop alongside you again.

“You want to leave here?” He quizzed, your gaze turning back to see his slumping shoulders, wings tightly folded in to be kept from the cold and potential threats. 

“Why would I stay? For the company?” You scoff before continuing your stride, passers-by watching you with eagerness, waiting for a moment to pounce and thinking otherwise when noticing Azriel. 

“There are plans to improve the City” He jogged once again to walk parallel to you. 

“Are they levelling it?” You smirked, gaining an equal expression from the Shadowsinger. 

“What do you suggest, honey, other than a large bang?”

“Not my job, that’s the job of the pompous assholes that live upstairs” You shrugged, unaware of your company, Azriels grin deepening. 

“Perhaps” his hands rested behind his back, striding along in levelheaded confidence you matched with your casual self-assured nature. 

“This is me” You swung your bag to your stomach, digging through its contents for your keys, Azriel inspecting your home. The towering building matched its surrounding counterparts, paint peeling, stones splitting as the structure stretched into the thick boulder it was cut into. An elderly female watched the both of you from her living room window of the ground floor apartment, eyes scanning for any information she could gather on Azriel, he felt oddly bare at the sight. 

“Ignore her, she’s as old as the dust that falls from the stalactites-” You laughed, noticing Azriels slight discomfort “-she’s probably just judging me for bringing a male near my home”

“Ah so your judgemental state is a taught behaviour” You shoved him playfully from the pavement step.

“Is yours?” You laughed, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, unsure as to why you couldn’t walk away yet.

“A consequence of my pompous surroundings” You tilted your head in question to his joking reply. 

“Walk with me some more?” He offered his elbow for you to take, your hands finding your hips.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He laughed, scarf slipping slightly.

“You come to the hotel with a steady string of females, pay and leave. I’m not going to join the string of females who wonder where their knight with the dazzling eyes is gone the next morning”

“Aw you think my eyes are dazzling?” You shoved his obscured goofy face fully from the step, Azriel unable to keep himself from laughing. 

“I think that it's a wonder no one has strangled you with that scarf yet” You began walking without full consciousness of the decision, Azriel happily following suit. 

“It helps me to remain mysterious”

“Helps you look stupid” You chuckled, arms folding into your chest to fight off the cold. Azriel slipped from his jacket without your full awareness. You leapt slightly at the feeling of it shrouding your shoulders, the intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar brushing against your senses. You fought away the strange feeling crossing your chest, settling on the warmth of the wool being the cause and nothing else. 

“Are these the moves you put on all your females?”

“Oh, if I was using the moves, you’d know all about it, honey”

“YN”

“You’d know all about it, YN, honey” You rolled your eyes continuing on your course with no final destination. You both walked around in a new sense of comfortable silence peppered with small snippets of one another's lives until you returned once again to the stoop outside your home. 

“I should probably head in, I have work again in a few hours” The night getting away from the two of you. 

“Of course” Azriel smiled softly beneath the scarf, it showing in his eyes until they landed on the elderly female in the window, still surveying her kingdom of this long-forgotten street. 

“Until next time Smokey”

“Smokey?” You just nodded to the shadows that had appeared around his legs, his dear friends who he normally kept away from him during his escapades had sensed their master's warmth and comfort around you and believed it was time to come back to him, that he was home. 

“Ah yes…until next time Honey” You just smiled softly at him before turning and heading up the steps, Azriel still fixated on you.

“Oh your jacket” You span around to return down the steps with the heaven-sent fabric.

“Oh no, I must have forgotten it, I guess I’ll have to come back for it” He laughed, stopping you in your tracks as he gave a small wave and began his walk back to his family in the Court of Nightmares. You shook your head side to side and found yourself laughing, eyes landing on your elderly neighbour who remained watching. 

“Mind your business Mags!” You called towards her knowing look before slipping inside. 

—-------------------------------

Over the next number of weeks, Azriel made his usual pilgrimage to the hotel, but unlike normal, he was now accompanied by no one else. He arrived at the beginning of your shift to keep you company and found himself walking you home after each clock-out. He resigned himself to keep his identity obscured, for fear it would send you running in fear or disgust. You spoke freely of your ideas to change the City for the better and your plans for the future, the other side of the mountain. Azriel found himself more forthcoming with the details of his life, identifiable clues excluded still however. Your walks around Hewn City were quickly becoming both of your favourite times in the week, missing one another when you were gone, denying it when you were together.

“And then I locked him out of the cabin naked” Your laugh at Azirel’s story practically filled the streets of the city. 

“I’ve only heard brutal stories about the Illyrian mountains but I swear you make it sound like an enjoyable time”

“I have brutal stories too” He joked, your smile faltering. 

“Tell me those” Azriel looked towards your soft expression, it glowing in the faelights of the usual route home you took together. 

“My brothers and I, were torn apart from one another during the Blood Rite, forced to find our way to one another, we did unspeakable things to reach the summit, I’m afraid I’ve done a lot of unspeakable things in my life” his gaze fixated on the cobblestone in front of him as he walked, fighting away memories of a time he tirelessly tried to disown from his mind. You looked at his furrowed face before instinctively finding your hand in his, lacing your fingers through his deepest insecurity, his mind screaming at him to let go but his heart wanting nothing of the sort. 

“What you do in survival shouldn’t decide who you are in the sun”

“I like that” He found a subtle smile grow beneath the scarf again, his hand squeezing yours to test if the contact was all a lie. 

“Unless you’ve like killed a puppy or something then you can burn in that same sun” You laughed, Azriel’s hazel eyes rolling in their socket. 

“And tell me who are you in the sun, Honey?”

“I don’t know, mountain, remember?” You gestured up to the solid ceiling miles and miles above you, Azriel shaking his head in apology, an idea crossing his mind, stopping you both on your stroll. 

“Cover your eyes” You scoffed but found yourself obeying him, your hand leaving his left a chill in him he wished to smother again. He took a deep breath before snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you tight to his side, an electric pulse shooting down the two of you at the closer contact. Azriel looked to his shadowy friends, a now frequent attendee of your time together unable to pull against the magnetic force you applied to them. He swirled the two of you in shadow, pulling you through the space he created until you were taken from where you stood to land with him gently on the top of the mountain, in the Moonstone Palace. The whole motion was so painfully gentle, you felt as though you hadn’t moved from the spot you left. Azriel stood in front of you, pulling your hands delicately from your face, the wash of light hitting you causing you to squint. 

“Open Honey” His serene tone filled you with the same warmth the rising sun provided. Your mouth hung agape as you looked through the glass of the gigantic windows on the top of the Night Court, the sun beginning to stretch its limbs over the gloriously harsh landscape. You rattled a nervous laugh out, looking quickly from Azriel back to the astonishing view. You found your feet taking a step back, the sudden vastness of the space in front of you almost suffocating in its airiness. 

“You’re as beautiful in the sun as you are in the shadow” Azriel spoke with a level of apprehension he hadn’t felt around you before, afraid he’d overwhelmed you into a state of trepidation.

“I-I-I” You couldn’t manage the words, the sprawling scene stealing syllables as they formed. 

“Who’s that?” Both you and Azriel shook in alarm at the voice, Azriel thinking his family were in Velaris. Feyre stood at the end of the very long dining room looking between the both of you. 

“Azriel?” Your head flew in his direction at the first mention of his name you had heard, he balled his fists at his side, cringing his face upward before releasing the tension again. Azriel pulled the scarf that had become like his very own flesh from his face. You took another step back from him, his face rivalling the staggering beauty of the other side of the glass. 

“Hello?” Feyre tried again with a laugh, your head darting back to her as she closed in, you sank immediately to the ground in a deep bow.

“YN, it's okay” Azriel whispered down to you, you unsure if you would faint on your way back to your full height or not. 

“Ah YN, the lovely lady who keeps our equally lovely Az away from us” She reached your shadow, a hand outstretched to help you stand again. You shot upright in front of her, unable to find any words. 

“I thought you were at home Feyre?” 

“And I thought I was High Lady and could go wherever I want Az?-” She laughed in reply, your eyes boring into the ground in practised submission “-Don’t worry YN, we’re not all pompous assholes like your dear Az” your head shooting back to hers, a playful smile decorating her delicate features. 

“My-Your-I-I”

“Feyre, if you could give us a moment” She only nodded to the Spymaster before making her exit as quietly as she had made her entrance. 

“Are you okay, Honey?” Azriel spoke with the candour of someone trying to talk a baby deer into not running away from a hunter. His uncharacteristically shaky hand reached for you before he guided you to sit in a grand dining room chair, your brain fogging slightly from the altitude. Azriel crouched afore you, his hand not leaving yours as it landed in your lap, your eyes searching the hazel eyes you were learning to call home.

“I-I can’t bel- I don’t understa- We were grossly undercharging you at the hotel” You managed, Azriel’s laughing singing in your ears, his thumb tracing circles around the back of your hand.

“We can rectify that I’m sure”

“Are these- Are these-”

“The mountains above Hewn City? Yes, this is a small sliver of the world I want to show you” He beamed up, your utter shock dripping away as the return of the comfort he gave you flooded back, his shadows swaddling your ankles.

“I was going to say are these the moves but yeah sure let's go with that” You found your panicked laughter changing to match the lightness washing through your chest, Azriel chuckling. 

“You’re the first female I’ve brought home…probably obvious by Feyre’s reaction”

“Fe-Feyre, the High Lady of Night Court, you call Feyre, like she’s anyone”

“You should hear what I call the Lord of the Night Court” His joking tone pushed away the draining colour in your face, the flush of unadulterated happiness returning. 

“What is happening right now?” Your laughter was almost hysterical, Azriel stood again, pulling you up to his chest. 

“I can bring you back below if you’d like-” You walked back towards the window again, captivated by the scenes “-Or, or I could show you more of my world? You’ve been so kind in showing me yours” 

“I have work” You found yourself saying before turning back to see his confused face and then bursting into laughter.

“What the fuck I have work” You couldn’t stop laughing, Azriel joining the sound as his hands caught your forearms. 

“Well, I did leave my jacket at your place, I have every reason to continue forgetting to collect it” You chuckled against his chest, his arms tracing their way across your back, his chin resting on your head. 

“I’m gonna be another one of you Honies aren’t I?” You looked up through your lashes, a laugh continuing to leave you

“You’re the only one I want to call Honey” His thumb traced circles on your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you in sweetness, night-chilled mist and cedar swirling into the undeniable taste of honey.

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Whatcha think?

[welcometohellfilm]

Congrats to everyone who has been working on W2H2! 🎉 If it's alright, I'd like to ask to ask 2 questions:

Is there by chance an official ref of colors for Debbie, or is it still up to interpretation at the moment?

Would you say that your personal, real life experiences within the 10 years moving from W2H to W2H2 shifted the tone/story of the series in some way? Something that I've always been fascinated with when I started looking more into W2H was the shift in Sock's character from the original comic -> first film -> second film, and Jonathan's character from the first film -> second film.

Thank you! ✨

I actually just made some 'official'-ish colors for Debbie! Her voice actor Kaitlyn wanted something to use on a banner for conventions haha... so here you go!

2. I'm not really sure how to answer this one, haha. I mean I've definitely changed as a person over the course of making each iteration of W2H. I started the comic while I was at community college, before I went to art school. I adapted it into an animation for my graduation project. And I started W2H2 a couple years after I graduated college. So there's a good 2-3 years between each attempt at W2H I've done, haha. I think a lot of my original ideas from the comic had to change because it needed to be condensed into a short film. I didn't even GET to Jonathan yet in the comic! Some things just didn't make sense to me anymore, like the idea of Sock already having a human body count. It'd just be absurd for him to be able to hide it for so long! Plus, if I made it so that Sock has only ever entertained the idea of murder, it makes his new job that much more appealing-- it's a chance for him to really lean in to this thing he's always had to hide. Between the first and second films though, I mean... I think there's been some tonal shift, for sure (I don't know about a character shift? We'll get to that haha) But basically, when I was first thinking about W2H2, my idea was "Sock and Jonathan hang out and attempt to figure out touch physics, also there's some drama about a journal Jonathan keeps." All of the hell stuff is something that came from bouncing ideas around with my friends, Michael and Neil. I was worried that sending Jonathan to hell would be too bonkers for a "2nd episode", but we all kinda agreed that enough time had passed that the fans would probably enjoy something higher stakes, so it would be fine. (I'll give everyone a moment to realize this conversation would've been happening in 2015-16... ha.)

We also kind of thought, y'know... I have no idea how many more of these there's even gonna' be, so why not go a little bigger with this one? W2H2 is a higher stakes story than what I set out to make in the beginning, that's for sure. It is interesting to compare all of them.. the employee handbook was actually from the comic and I cut that because it wasn't helpful for W2H... but then it became helpful for W2H2, so it came back! Haha. I'm curious to know in what ways people think the characters have changed though. (And is that a good thing or a bad thing?) Especially a character like Jonathan, no one's really even seen that much of him yet, I think most of the characterization comes from fandom, or like... art I've drawn, I guess? Haha... I'm not sure! I guess Sock's a little more confident and antagonistic in this one (though he'll have his moments of hesitation... we're only at Part 1 right now!), and Jonathan has had to become a more vocal/active character, just by nature of the kind of story it is, I suppose. But yeah, I'm not sure! Happy to hear your guys' thoughts though!

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: The Final Chapter

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 9.2k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

“A quiet Connecticut suburb, forever scarred by the horrors hidden within one of its most luxurious homes.”

The news anchor droned on, her voice steady and professional, but still laced with the brand of disbelief that accompanied covering something too monstrous to fully comprehend.

“Authorities have confirmed that Mateo Hobbs, the serial killer Florida law enforcement has been tracking for the past eighteen months, has been apprehended. Linked to multiple kidnappings and murders spanning the East Coast, Hobbs recently embedded himself in an affluent Hartford, Connecticut neighborhood, hiding in plain sight.

“Perceived as a quiet, unassuming neighbor, Hobbs, using the alias Roman Reigns, was in reality, a ruthless, sociopathic predator. With deep ties to the notorious Samoan Sons crime syndicate in California, he’s alleged to have orchestrated a string of brutal crimes from Georgia to Florida all the way up to Connecticut, leaving a trail of devastation in his wake.

His reign of terror came to a violent end yesterday when he was shot by authorities during a tense hostage standoff in the basement of his Hartford mansion.”

The scene cut to an aerial view of Roman’s sprawling mansion, its pristine exterior now marred by crime scene tape and the steady movement of forensic teams. Uniformed officers and cadaver dogs scoured the property, methodically searching the grounds, the basement, and hidden crawl spaces for any remaining evidence of his crimes.

“His latest victim, Ivy Jones, a registered nurse and a single mother of one, had been missing for nine harrowing days. Jones, who was Hobbs’ next door neighbor and rumored to be his lover, was found in his basement, in critical condition but alive. Investigators say she was subjected to severe physical and psychological torture before she was found by authorities. Sources close to the case confirm that she was not the first woman to suffer at Hobbs’ hands—but so far, she has been the only one to make it out alive.

“Hobbs has now been linked to many more unsolved murders including the brutal killing of a pregnant woman whose remains were discovered months ago in a shallow ditch in the woods in this very neighborhood. Further investigation led authorities to a horrifying discovery within the basement of his mansion—two bodies, decomposing in separate barrels. The victims have been identified as local fitness coach Bianca Belair and attorney Gemini Beaufort. Both women had been reported missing in recent weeks, their disappearances previously unexplained.”

A pause, heavy with implication and omen.

“While authorities believe Hobbs acted alone, the full scope of his crimes remains unknown. Investigators are combing through evidence recovered from the property, searching for additional victims. The case remains open, and the search for answers continues.”

The broadcast cut to a clear image of Roman Reigns, reduced to a face on a screen, forever tied to death and destruction.

“For now, the nightmare is over. But for those who suffered at his cold, callus hands, the scars remain.”

Ivy drifted toward consciousness at a snail’s pace, the world around her emerging in fragments. First came the sterile scent of antiseptic, a smell she knew all too well. Then the steady, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, the faint hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled voices of nurses and doctors moving through the halls. 

A heavy fog clung to her thoughts, making it difficult to pull herself fully into wakefulness. Her body ached—deep, radiating pain that pulsed through her limbs and settled in her chest. She inhaled, the simple act an effort, her ribs protesting with a dull, bruising throb. 

She shifted slightly, and that was when she became aware of the wires. The thin, plastic tubing taped to her arm, the small pinch where an IV needle was inserted into her skin. It was wrong. Foreign. She was always the one on the other side of the hospital bed, checking vitals, adjusting drips, reassuring patients. Never the one lying there, helpless, under observation. 

Her eyelashes fluttered as she forced her heavy lids open. The room was shadowed in a pale yellow light spilling from the small lamp in the corner. The walls were the soft, muted green she recognized from the hospital ward where she worked. 

Her hospital. 

A sharp breath hitched in her throat as reality came rushing back in a cold, unforgiving wave. 

Roman. 

The basement. 

The gun in her hand, trembling, the trigger pulling back. 

The gunshots. The stunned look in his eyes. 

The thud of his body hitting the floor. 

Her stomach clenched, nausea rolling through her. Her fingers instinctively curled into the stiff white sheets beneath her, her body trembling at the memory. The horror of it still clung to her, wrapped around her like invisible chains. 

Ivy’s eyes flickered frantically around the dim hospital room, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. Panic clawed at her chest until they landed on a familiar, curled-up form on the floor near the hospital bed.

Duchess was asleep, her body rising and falling with deep, even breaths. A thick bandage was wrapped around her stomach, a stark reminder of Roman’s cruelty. Ivy’s throat tightened at the sight, guilt and sorrow intertwining. He had hurt her too. But she was here—alive. Loyal as ever.

Swallowing hard, Ivy tore her gaze away and searched further.

Zaia.

She was nestled in Becky’s arms, her tiny face tucked against the older woman’s chest, her dark curls tousled from sleep. Becky sat stiffly in the chair, her red-rimmed eyes wide as they locked onto Ivy’s. It was as if she had been afraid to blink, afraid Ivy would disappear if she looked away.

“You’re awake,” Becky breathed, her voice brimming with relief.

Ivy managed a faint, weary smile in acknowledgment, but her focus remained solely on her daughter. With what little strength she had, she whispered, “Zaia…Baby…” Her voice barely more than a breath, but it was enough.

Zaia stirred, her small body shifting as she blinked groggily. Then, as her vision cleared, she saw her mother; awake, eyes open, alive.

“Mama!”

In an instant, she was wriggling out of Becky’s hold, her small feet hitting the tiled floor. However, Becky caught her before she could rush toward the hospital bed, her hands shaking as she wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks.

"Ivy," Becky’s voice cracked, "Can she…can she climb in?"

"Yes." Ivy barely got the word out before her arms were reaching, aching to hold her child, to feel her warmth, to reassure herself that she was real. That she was safe.

Becky carefully helped Zaia into the bed, minding the wires and the IV. The little girl clung to her mother like a lifeline, her small body trembling, her sobs muffled against Ivy’s faded lilac hospital gown.

Ivy held her just as tightly, pressing her lips to Zaia’s curls, breathing her in, as if the scent of her baby could chase away the lingering nightmares. Tears streamed down their faces as she rocked her gently, whispering soft reassurances, "I’m here, baby. Mama’s here. I gotchu."

Zaia hiccupped between sobs, her fingers clutching at Ivy’s hospital gown. "I thought…I thought you weren’t coming back," she whispered. “I thought you were gonna d—”

The hopelessness in her tone cracked Ivy’s heart wide open. "Never, baby. I will always come back to you," she promised, her voice raw with emotion. "Always."

Becky wiped at her face, watching them, barely holding herself together. “She wouldn’t sleep,” she choked out. “She kept asking for you. I tried to calm her down. Told her not to be scared.”

Her voice wavered, and Ivy could see it; etched in the tightness around Becky’s eyes, in the way her lips trembled. Becky now knew what had happened in that house, the horrors Ivy had endured.

Blinking rapidly, Becky cleared her throat. “I’m gonna go find a nurse,” she said gently, her hand lingering on Ivy’s arm for just a moment. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Ivy didn’t answer.

Because she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth. That she wasn’t okay.

Pushing all that aside, Ivy tightened her hold on her daughter, pressing her lips to the crown of her head, breathing her in. Nothing else existed. Nothing else would ever matter again.

"My sweet baby," she murmured, pressing her cheek against her daughter's. "My snuggle bug. I love you. More than anything. More than life itself."

Zaia sniffled, her little arms tightening around her mother’s neck. "I love you too, Mama."

The machines beeped softly in the background, the sterile hospital room surrounding them, but none of it mattered. In that moment, the only thing that existed was the warmth of her daughter in her arms, the unshakeable, unbreakable bond between them. 

As the day wore on, Ivy felt exhaustion settle deep into her bones, dragging down every limb. The hospital room felt unbearably small, the steady beep of the monitor beside her too loud in the quiet. Duchess lay curled in her lap, her warm body a source of quiet comfort as Ivy absently stroked her fur. Across the room, Zaia slept soundly on the couch, her small frame rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Ivy glanced over at her daughter, a weary ache pressing against her chest. Their reunion had been everything; painful, overwhelming, much needed. It was the first time since her hellish ordeal that she’d felt even the faintest spark of life in her chest.

A soft knock on the door made her tense.

Lilian, her boss and the head nurse, stepped inside, her expression gentle but firm. “Ivy,” she said carefully, “there are two people here who need to speak with you.”

Ivy’s stomach twisted, but she managed a nod.

Lilian stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

The tall man with striking blonde hair stepped forward first. Ivy recognized him immediately; it was he who shot Roman in the back. The one who ended it.

Behind him, a woman followed, dressed professionally but with an air of quiet confidence. Ivy couldn’t recall her name; she only remembered she was the last face she saw before waking in this bed.

The man’s expression was calm yet serious as he broke the thin ice. “Miss Jones,” he greeted, with a frail semblance of warmth. “I’m Detective Cody Rhodes.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “And this is Lieutenant Jade Cargill. We’re with Florida PD, handling the Mateo Hobbs case…or Roman, as you know him.”

At the mention of that name, Ivy flinched, her breath hitching.

Her reaction made Cody hesitate, but only briefly. “We wanted to check in on you…and also, if you’re up for it, ask a few questions.”

Jade’s approach was softer. She stepped closer, her eyes warm and understanding. “I know that this is difficult,” she said gently. “But whatever you can tell us will help.”

Ivy swallowed the burn in her throat. She knew this moment would come, but she wasn’t ready. She didn’t think she ever would be. But she had to.

Duchess nuzzled into her, as if sensing her unease. Ivy absorbed the comfort, steadying herself.

Cody and Jade watched Ivy. Waited, patient.

She forced herself to breathe, to start. “He…” Her voice cracked. She pressed her fingers into her temples. “I don’t know how long he kept me down there for…a week, a month...”

Jade sat on the edge of the bed, her body turned slightly toward Ivy, giving her space but offering silent support.

“From what we gathered, it was nine days,” Jade said softly.

Ivy’s nails dug into her palms. She thought she could do this. She thought she could get the words out, but the second she tried, it was like reliving everything all over again.

Roman’s voice. His hands. His snide, cruel laugh.

Jade’s hand rested lightly on her arm. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “You don’t have to push yourself.”

Ivy took a shaky breath, clutching Duchess tighter, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gemini was in the basement with me. She was…she was dead when I found her…He killed her…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shame flooding her veins. The last time they had spoken, Ivy had pushed her away. She had been cold. Dismissive. And now, Gemini was dead.

She would never forgive herself for it.

Her fingers curled into the sheets, her entire body trembling as a sob caught in her throat.

“He r-raped me. Over and over and over…”

The words barely left her mouth before a violent shudder overtook her entire body. Her breath expelled in short, sharp gasps as her tears obscured her vision. It felt as though a steel band had closed around her ribs, squeezing, suffocating. Her stomach lurched, bile lurking in the back of her throat.

The memory barreled into her like a truck, brutal and unforgiving; Roman’s weight crushing her, his hands pinning her down, his harsh breath in her ear, the unbearable pain, the helplessness…

Her body convulsed with deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

Jade moved instantly, wrapping an arm around Ivy’s shoulders, grounding her, steadying her. “Breathe, Ivy,” she murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

Ivy gasped, grasping her chest as if trying to rip something out, that terrifying thing buried deep inside her. “I couldn’t stop him,” she sobbed. “I begged, I fought...I—I—”

Jade tightened her grip on Ivy’s arm. “It's okay, Ivy,” she goaded.

She turned, blinking up at her, desperate. “Is he dead?” she rasped. “Please tell me he’s dead.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Rhodes and Jade exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them.

Cody exhaled. “He had a pulse in the ambulance.”

The world around her screeched to a halt.

Her chest constricted so violently it felt like her ribs were caving in. Her fingers clenched the sheets so tightly that her knuckles ashened, her nails digging into the fabric as if trying to ground herself, to hold onto something—anything that would stop the panic from swallowing her whole.

“He’s alive?” she whispered, a frightened, broken rasp. 

“Barely,” Cody said carefully, disgusted at himself that he didn’t get the job done.

Jade leaned forward. “He’s being transferred out of state. He’s going to a maximum-security federal prison in Montana. Miles and miles away. He won’t be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Ivy could barely breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in. A sharp, ice-cold terror slithered down her spine, wrapping around her like a vice.

Cody’s voice was firm, absolute. “We failed the first time. We should have put him away. That won’t happen again. He’s never getting out.”

Jade squeezed Ivy’s arm. “You’ll never see him again. We promise.”

Ivy wanted to believe them. She wanted to trust that this was over.

But Roman had stolen so much from her.

And no matter how far away they sent him, she didn’t know if she’d ever feel safe again.

Sitting stiffly on the plush couch, her hands clenched together in her lap. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla filled the air, a salt lamp casting warm hues against the walls. Dr. Ari’s office had never felt like a psychotherapist’s office. No stiff leather chairs, no sterile white walls. Instead, it was warm, inviting, with bookshelves lined with novels and plants cascading from their pots. Ivy used to love this space, used to tell Ari how she had the coziest office in the hospital. It had never felt clinical. Never cold.

Today, it felt suffocating.

Dr. Ari sat across from her, notebook resting lightly in her lap, her expression open, patient. She wasn’t just a colleague today. She was Ivy’s therapist. And right now, that made her feel like the enemy.

“I know this isn’t where you want to be,” Ari said gently. “But I appreciate you being here.”

Ivy didn’t respond. She kept her gaze on the floor, on the delicate weave of the rug beneath her feet.

“Let’s start small,” Ari continued. “How have you been sleeping?”

Ivy exhaled slowly. A question she could answer.

“Not great,” she admitted. “I wake up a lot.”

“Nightmares?”

A short nod. An understatement. The dreams weren’t just bad…They were choking, nausea-inducing. Literally, sometimes.

Ari didn’t push, didn’t ask for details. Not yet. Instead, she shifted slightly. “And Zaia? How is she doing?”

At the mention of her daughter, Ivy’s hands tightened in her lap. “She sleeps in my bed every night now,” she said. “She’s…not the same. Not as lively.”

Ari nodded knowingly. “She’s been through so much.”

Too much. More than any child should endure. Losing her father. Losing Gemini. Watching Gable’s head get blown off. Witnessing such violence firsthand. It wasn’t fair.

Ari let a beat pass before asking, “And Duchess?”

Ivy glanced toward the dog bed by the door, where the puppy lay, watching the two women carefully. “She won’t leave my side.”

Ari hummed in understanding. “She’s protecting you.”

Ivy swallowed against the tightness in her throat. She’d tried to protect her in Roman’s house, took a kick to the ribs for her. Words could never fully express how grateful she was for her bravery.

The silence crawled by like a serpent, cold, slithering. Ari’s voice was softer when she spoke again. “Ivy…do you feel responsible for Gemini’s death?”

She flinched.

Her stomach clenched, her nails biting into her palms. Though she had been expecting the question, it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“She warned me,” she whispered, “Over and over again. She told me he was dangerous. She told me not to trust him. And I—I defended him.” Her breath hitched. “I let him in. Because of me, she’s gone.”

Her chest constricted under the crushing weight of the truth—Gemini had died trying to protect her. The evidence in her bag confirmed it. The police investigation unearthed even worse horrors: Roman had planted a camera in Gemini’s bedroom, watching her every move. The street cams showed him chasing her back into her house, murdering her, and stealing her bag and her car to erase the proof. Traces of her blood and his DNA smeared across her kitchen like a signature of death.

All because of her.

Ari let her sit with the words for a moment before she said, “That’s not true, Ivy, this wasn’t your fault.”

Ivy let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Then whose was it?”

Ari held Ivy’s gaze, steady and sure. “The man who killed her.”

Her throat tightened. “I should have seen it.”

Ari shook her head. “He manipulated you, Ivy. You weren’t supposed to see it.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I thought he loved me.”

Ari nodded, not interrupting, not rushing her.

“I—I was so stupid. I fell for him. Oldest fucking trick in the book. I let him into my life. I let him near my daughter.” Her voice cracked, self-loathing thick in her tone. “I slept next to him. I trusted him.”

Ari shifted slightly in her chair. “Again, that is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Another bitter laugh. “I should have known. I should have seen it. I—I kept giving him the benefit of the doubt. I defended him.” Her breath hitched. “And all the while, he was killing people. He murdered innocent women. Angelo. Gemini.”

Ari gave her a moment before speaking again. “You didn’t know, Ivy. You weren’t the only one he deceived.”

Ivy clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe through the crippling guilt. She wanted to believe Ari. But how could she?

Her daughter’s father. Her best friend. Gone. Because of her stupidity.

The pain was unbearable. 

And then—

“Can you talk to me about what he did to you in the basement?”

Everything inside Ivy recoiled. Her body went rigid, suddenly forgetting the simple function of breathing.

The basement…

Her mind fought against the flood of memories, but it was useless. The cold, the dark, the endless hours of terror. The feel of his hands on her body. His voice.

Ari’s voice remained gentle. “Ivy, the police confirmed that Roman ra—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!”

The words came out too sharp, too loud in the quiet room. Her heart pounded, her vision hazing at the edges.

Ari didn’t flinch. She simply nodded. “Okay. We don’t have to—not until you’re ready.”

Ivy sucked in a trembling breath, but it felt like she couldn’t get enough air.

Dr. Ari leaned forward slightly, her voice steady yet soft, like she was trying to anchor Ivy to the present. “But I need you to understand something. Your trauma...It won’t just go away on its own. You’ve survived something unimaginable. You need to let yourself process it.”

Ivy barely heard her. The words echoed distantly, dull and meaningless, as if they belonged to someone else’s story.

She had uttered similar words before. Had stood at bedsides, held trembling hands, looked into the vacant eyes of survivors and tried to offer comfort wrapped in clinical certainty. She had repeated the script so many times, assuring patients that healing was possible, that time and therapy would mend what had been broken.

But never—never—had she imagined those words would be spoken to her.

And just like all the patients she had treated, she didn’t believe them.

Because how could anyone come back from this? How did she process something that had gutted her, left her hollowed out and rotting from the inside? Roman had taken everything from her; her safety, her body, her trust. The horrors lurked stubbornly just behind her eyelids, shadows of memories she wasn’t ready to face.

After another long pause, Ari spoke again. “Avoidance won’t make them go away, Ivy. They’ll fester.”

Ivy swallowed hard. “I don’t care.”

“I think you do.”

“I just wanna go home. I wanna be with my daughter.”

Ari studied her carefully. “Zaia needs you to heal, Ivy.”

Her eyes stung. She looked away, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeves.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do this!”

“You can,” Ari insisted, firmly but kindly. “And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Ivy’s shoulders trembled.

Ari didn’t say anything else. She just let Ivy sit there, let her hold onto the silence like a fragile thread keeping her together.

And then, without warning, the dam broke.

A sob tore from Ivy’s throat, raw and gut-wrenching. She folded in on herself, shaking, gasping for breath between broken cries. The pain, the guilt, the fear—it all crashed over her at once.

Ari moved from her chair, settling beside her on the couch. She didn’t speak. She didn’t try to quiet her. She just sat there, her presence solid and unwavering as her patient let it all out.

Minutes passed before Ivy could calm down. She swiped at her tear-streaked face, her body exhausted from the weight of it all.

Ari handed her a tissue, waiting as she wiped at her swollen eyes.

“Same time next week?” Ari asked softly.

Ivy hesitated. The thought of doing this again, of dredging up more of the darkness, made her stomach churn.

But she had no choice.

She nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

Ari gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Ivy didn’t answer. She stared down at the crumpled tissue in her hands, her fingers tightening around it as if she could squeeze the pain out of herself.

One step at a time.

The words felt meaningless.

How could she take another step forward when every part of her felt shattered beyond repair?

As she stood on shaky legs and left Ari’s office, the world outside felt too bright, too normal.

And Ivy…

Ivy wasn’t normal anymore.

She wasn’t sure she ever would be again.

The sky hung low and gray, thick with the weight of a late November chill as Gemini’s funeral unfolded. The world seemed to mourn with them, the clouds heavy, threatening snow but offering nothing—just the quiet, biting wind that cut through coats and scarves. It was the week before Thanksgiving, but there was no warmth, no gratitude. Only grief.

This was the second funeral Ivy had attended in the span of a few months, and her heart could hardly withstand another. First Angelo, now Gemini. Two people who had meant the world to her. It felt unbearable, cruel. She had no more tears to cry, yet they still came, silent and unrelenting, as she clutched Zaia’s small, gloved hand in hers. Her daughter had barely recovered from burying her father, and now she was here, standing beside another fresh grave, saying goodbye to another adult who had loved her.

Gemini’s funeral was private, yet the quiet opulence of her family still bled into the event. The headstones surrounding her final resting place were regal, etched with gold, the markers of a family that had always carried itself with elegance. She was being laid to rest between her parents, a cruel sort of symmetry. Gemini had always missed them, always longed for them, and now, she would be with them forever.

Nearby, Raquel and Kelani, her colleagues and friends, stood, shoulders shaking, their eyes rimmed red from an endless flow of tears. They weren’t just coworkers; they were her sisters, her allies in a field dominated by men, who had loved and respected her fiercely. It was impossible to imagine their firm without her bold voice ringing through the halls, her confidence filling every room, her laughter turning the most grueling days into something bearable.

For three years, Gemini had been a constant in Ivy’s life; a force of nature, vibrant and unstoppable. She was the life of every party, the loudest voice in the room, the kind of friend who made the impossible feel within reach. Ivy had not imagined a world without her in a long, long time.

And yet, here she was.

Watching helplessly as Gemini was lowered into the cold ground, her laughter silenced, her light extinguished forever.

Ivy’s breath hitched, her chest tightening with the unbearable truth. Gem had been more than a friend. She had been a lifeline, a sister in all the ways that mattered. And now, because of the choices Ivy had made, that lifeline had been severed.

She could do nothing but stand there, numb and broken, as the earth swallowed what remained of her best friend.

Beside Ivy, Leo Beaufort stood motionless, his broad frame rigid in a perfectly tailored black suit. His presence was unmistakable—tall, striking, and composed—but there was a weight to him now, a quiet devastation pressing into his shoulders.

Gemini’s twin brother was her mirror. The other half of her soul. Ivy had known him as long as she’d known his sister. She had seen him laugh, tease, argue with Gemini in the way only siblings could. But she had never seen him like this—silent, stripped of the easy confidence he always carried.

As Gemini’s casket sank lower into the earth, Ivy felt him exhale, a breath so shallow it barely existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t cry. But the grief radiating from him was as heavy as the sky pressing down on them.

As the final words faded into the cold afternoon air and mourners began to drift away, Ivy forced herself to look up at him.

Something inside her cracked at the look on his face. His expression was raw, anguished, the tears he'd been holding in finally spilling forth.

Without a word, she pulled him into a crushing embrace. She felt the tremor in his tall body, his pain pressing into her own, bleeding together in the worst way.

“I’m so sorry, Leo,” she murmured, heartbroken for him.

“I felt it that day. When she…went,” he whispered against her temple, his voice unsteady. “I was in Tokyo, and I felt it. Half of my soul—shattered.” A ragged breath. “I knew something was terribly wrong. I just couldn’t get to her fast enough.”

Ivy’s lungs tightened, shame sinking its claws into her. “I was awful to her before she passed,” she admitted, the confession digging into her like a knife to the heart. “We fought, and I…” Her voice broke. “I never got to make it right.”

Leo pulled back just enough to cup her face in his hands, his touch startlingly gentle despite the storm inside him. His dark eyes, hollow with pain, burned with something else too—something resolute.

“Ivy, listen to me,” he said, steady and firm. “Gem knew you loved her. She loved you just as much. Whatever happened between you don’t change that.” His grip tightened, willing her to believe him. “This was not your fault. You gotta forgive yourself. Please. She’d want you to. I want you to.”

She wanted to. God, how she wanted to. But the weight of her regret felt immovable, crushing her beneath it. And maybe, deservedly so.

As Leo finally let her go, Ivy turned slightly, her gaze landing on another familiar figure standing just a few feet away.

Officer Hayes. Carmelo.

Equally lost. Equally broken.

The sharp, smooth, composed policeman was gone, replaced by a man drowning in grief. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but they couldn’t hide the way his body shook, the way his shoulders curled inward, as if the magnitude of his sorrow was too much to bear.

Ivy took a slow step forward, then another, until she was standing beside him. A long, painful stretch of silence.

“I imagined a life with her,” he spoke up, his voice hoarse as he removed his sunglasses to wipe at his eyes. “Marriage. A family. I thought…I thought I had more time.” A sharp breath. “I didn’t do enough to stop this.”

Ivy turned to him, shaking her head. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“How can I not?” His jaw clenched. “I never thought he was a threat. Never looked at him twice. And that’s the problem.” His voice wavered, thick with regret. “I should’ve dug deeper. Should’ve asked more questions. But I didn’t. I let him be around her—I let him be around all of us—and I didn’t see it.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I should have known. I should have done more.”

Her chest tightened. She had no words, no reassurance that would make any of this easier. The what-ifs were stifling, an endless loop of blame and regret that neither of them could escape.

Carmelo let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I just wish I’d gotten to talk to her one last time,” he murmured. “Tell her how much I…” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “Just one more conversation, man. One more chance.”

Ivy squeezed his arm. “She knew, Melo. She knew.”

He gave a faint nod, but his hands clenched at his sides, as if holding onto something invisible, something slipping through his grasp.

After a beat, he exhaled and looked at her. “I’m happy you made it out,” he whispered. “I really am.”

Ivy blinked back fresh tears. “Thank you for taking care of Zaia,” she said. “She talks about you all the time, you know. Says you’re her hero.”

Something flickered in his expression—something softer, lighter, cutting through the thick haze of grief. His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, before it disappeared. 

“Zaia’s a good kid,” he said, voice quieter now. “She’s been through enough. I just did what anyone would’ve.”

They stood in silence, side by side, staring down at the fresh mound of dirt that covered Gemini’s coffin. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

Because this—this was what devastation looked like.

Detective Rhodes stood outside the glass window of the hospital room, hands stuffed in his pockets, his frosty blue gaze locked onto the unconscious man inside. 

Mateo Hobbs. Roman Reigns. 

It didn’t matter what he called himself. He was nothing more than another psychotic criminal who had finally run out of places to run.

Two bullets. One from Ivy. One from him. And yet the bastard still lived.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Hobbs had slipped through his fingers too many times before, surviving when any other man would’ve been six feet under. But this time? 

This time, there was no escape.

Behind him, the hesitant shuffle of footsteps drew his attention. Dr. Michael Cole, a wiry, nervous-looking man with thinning hair and thick glasses, cleared his throat. “Detective,” he greeted, voice just shy of a tremor.

“How long?” Cody didn’t bother with pleasantries. His cerulean orbs never left Hobbs’ prone form, watching his huge chest rise and fall steadily beneath the hospital sheets.

Cole wiped his hands on his coat. “A week. The bullets have been removed, but he needs time to recover before he can be transported.”

“A week?” Cody echoed, his jaw clenching. He wanted him gone now.

“It’s the best I can do,” Cole insisted, shifting uneasily under the weight of Cody’s chilling glare. “Moving him too soon could cause complications—”

“I don’t give a fuck about complications,” Rhodes cut him off coldly. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “The second he’s stable, he’s out of here. You understand me?!”

Cole nodded hurriedly, clearly eager to be anywhere but in Cody’s presence.

Rhodes turned back to the window, his voice dropping to a low, venomous promise. 

“You will never see the light of day again, Hobbs.”

A fortress of concrete and steel, Windham Federal Penitentiary sat deep in the wilderness in rural Montana, surrounded by endless miles of nothing. No roads. No civilization. Just mountains and forests stretching as far as the eye could see.

Maximum security.

No one had ever broken out. Many had tried. All had failed.

Guards patrolled the perimeter with semi-automatics. Watchtowers stood high, armed with snipers. The cells were reinforced, the walls impenetrable. A goddamn hellhole.

Exactly where Mateo Hobbs belonged.

But Rhodes made sure he wasn’t just another inmate. He had plans.

Sitting across from CO Strowman in a dimly lit break room, Cody laid it out. Strowman was a mountain of a man; six-foot-eight, built like a tank, with a shaved head, an unruly beard and a ghastly scar running down his cheek. A man whose presence alone made even the most dangerous inmate rethink their life choices.

Cody’s eyes locked on the grainy monitor displaying Roman…Mateo…sitting alone in his cell. Even injured, the bastard still carried that same quiet menace, his expression unreadable, his posture eerily composed.

“You watch him for me,” Cody said, his voice low, edged with something lethal. “I mean really watch him. Make his life a living hell. If he so much as breathes wrong, I wanna know.”

Strowman grunted, arms like tree trunks folding across his chest. “And if he steps outta line?”

Cody smirked. “Handle it.”

Strowman’s eyes gleamed with understanding.

Hobbs wasn’t getting out. And if Cody had his way…

He wouldn’t be getting out alive.

The drive across Hartford felt like a step toward something new—something better. Ivy’s grip on the steering wheel was firm as she navigated unfamiliar streets, her heart pounding in quiet anticipation. Moving again wasn’t ideal—twice in three years—but staying in that house, in that neighborhood, after everything that had happened? Impossible.

Was she running away? Again?

Or was it survival?

Maybe she was running. Maybe this was just another escape, another attempt to put distance between herself and the nightmare that had nearly swallowed her whole. But wasn’t that the point? To keep going, however slowly, however painfully, until the past loosened its grip? If this was running, then let it be. As long as it carried her toward something that had some fragile semblance of peace.

The house Angelo left her sat on a quiet street lined with towering trees, their bare branches dusted with the first hints of winter. It was beautiful. A two-story colonial with soft gray siding, black shutters, and a wide porch that wrapped around the front. The yard stretched out, perfect for a child to run through in the warmer months, and the crisp December air carried the scent of pine from the evergreens bordering the property.

It was a beautiful abode. Angelo had good taste.

As soon as Ivy parked, Zaia unbuckled herself and scrambled out of the car, her little sneakers crunching against the gravel driveway. “Mama, it’s so big!” she gasped, spinning in a circle. “We get to live here?”

Ivy stepped out, taking in the sight of it. “Yeah, baby,” she murmured, trying to push past the weight in her chest. “We do.”

Zaia grabbed her hand, practically bouncing on her toes. “Can we move in before my birthday?”

Ivy smiled, squeezing her fingers. “That’s the plan.”

It was good timing, really. A fresh start before Christmas. A new home, new memories—ones not tainted by fear and loss. Zaia would turn seven on Christmas Eve, and Ivy wanted her to wake up in a house that felt safe, filled with warmth instead of shadows.

To Zaia, this was all just an adventure. The idea of moving again didn’t phase her in the slightest. “I can decorate my room for Christmas, right?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement. “And can we get a big tree? Like, really big?”

Ivy laughed softly. “You can have the biggest tree we can fit.”

Zaia beamed. “And I can have a birthday party here?”

Ivy hesitated but nodded. “We’ll see what we can do.”

She wasn’t sure she had it in her to host a party, not after everything, but she wouldn’t take away Zaia’s excitement. Her daughter had been through enough.

Of course, not everyone was thrilled about the move.

“You’re taking my granddaughter even farther away from me?” Gloria, Angelo’s mother, snapped through the phone when Ivy finally broke the news.

Ivy let out a slow breath, already exhausted. “We’re moving, Gloria. That’s not up for discussion.”

“You expect me to drive all the way across town just to see her?”

“I expect you to figure it out if you actually want to see her.”

Gloria scoffed, muttering something under her breath. But Ivy hung up before she could utter another word. She didn’t care. She was done letting this woman dictate anything in her life. Gloria was not raising Zaia. She never had. And after everything Ivy had been through, she refused to let anyone—especially her ex’s bitter, spiteful mother—make her feel guilty for doing what was best for her daughter.

This was their life. And from now on, Ivy was going to live it on her terms.

For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to believe that things could get better. That healing, no matter how long or winding the road, was possible.

Hope.

Maybe, just maybe, she still had some left.

In just a matter of weeks, Roman’s sprawling fortress across the street was reduced to rubble. Ivy stood by her window and watched as the demolition crew tore through it, their machines snarling as they ripped apart the walls that had once enclosed her in his deception. She had spent a lot more time than she wished to admit in that house, back when she had believed Roman was just a man, just her lover. They had cooked in that kitchen, their laughter filling the air between clinking wine glasses. They had curled up on that expensive leather couch, watching movies until she fell asleep against his chest. She had let him kiss her in that hallway, had given herself to him in that bedroom, tangled in silk sheets, never knowing that one day those same walls would close in on her, trapping her in the darkest nightmare of her life.

She thought its destruction would bring some kind of closure. Instead, she just felt hollow. The house was gone, but the memories remained, clawing at her, sinking their teeth into every quiet moment she tried to reclaim.

Therapy helped. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. Once a week, she sat across from Dr. Ari, picking at the edges of her pain, unraveling it thread by thread. But the nightmares didn’t care about therapy. They came regardless, slipping into her mind like a cruel whisper in the dark. She’d wake up gasping, her skin slick with sweat, the phantom weight of Roman’s body pressing her into the mattress, his voice dripping in her ears like poison. 

Then, those “thoughts” began creeping in, without warning, without pity. One moment, she would be doing something mundane, like folding Zaia’s tiny clothes, the scent of lavender detergent clinging to the fabric. The next, the darkness would slither in, whispering insidiously:

You’re broken beyond repair. You’ll never get better. He took too much from you.

Ivy clenched her jaw, shaking her head as if that alone could banish the thoughts. But they didn’t need an invitation. They curled around her mind, wrapping tight like thorns, their voices gentle, persuasive.

You won’t have to wake up screaming anymore. You won’t have to see his face every time you close your eyes. You’ll finally be at peace.

Just do it. 

End it all.

She had told Dr. Ari about those morbid thoughts; about the nights she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of exhaustion pressing her into the mattress, but sleep refusing to take her. About the moments when the idea of stepping further into the abyss felt less like surrender and more like relief.

Ari had nodded, unsurprised, unshaken. “These thoughts don’t mean you want to die, Ivy,” she had said softly, her gaze steady. “They mean you’re in pain. And pain needs to be acknowledged before it can heal.”

So she worked through it, piece by jagged piece. She wrote in a journal, even when the words felt too raw, too exposed. She let the music wash over her, heavy and loud, until the static in her mind quieted. She read the book Ari had given her, a guide for survivors, though some nights, she could only get through a paragraph before the words blurred.

And when the darkness became too much, when the past threatened to drag her under, she reminded herself why she kept fighting.

For Zaia. For the little girl who still looked at her like she was the safest place in the world.

For herself.

So she strapped up her boots, gritted her teeth, and moved forward. Even when it hurt. Even when it felt impossible.

She threw herself into packing up the house. It was something to do, something to keep her from drowning. Most people weren’t allowed past the front door anymore. The thought of letting anyone too close, of giving someone the chance to betray her trust again, made her chest tighten. The only exception was Carmelo. He came by often, checking in on Zaia, playing with her, making sure Ivy was eating, sleeping. Becky too, with her loud, unrelenting energy, forcing Ivy to exist in the world even when she didn’t want to.

Tonight, Ivy sat cross-legged on the living room floor, folding a pile of Zaia’s clothes into a suitcase. A few feet away, Zaia played with Duchess, the puppy’s tiny tail wagging as she chased a stuffed toy. Ivy allowed herself a small smile at the sight; at the simple, innocent joy of a child and her dog.

Then the news anchor’s voice cut through the background noise, sharp as a blade.

“Tonight, an in-depth look at the man who terrorized a quiet suburban neighborhood…”

Ivy’s heart lurched as his face filled the screen. Roman’s face. The familiar angles of his bearded jaw, the piercing eyes she had once loved.

Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred at the edges. The room tilted.

No. No, no, no.

She fumbled for the remote with trembling hands, her lungs tightening as if iron bands had cinched around her ribs. The words on the screen swam together; serial killer, rapist, sociopath; but all she could hear was his voice; feel his hands, his weight, his breath.

Her chest seized, air slipping from her grasp. Hyperventilating. She needed to breathe. She needed—

“You got it, Duchess, good girl!”

Zaia’s small voice cut through the haze of terror.

Ivy’s fingers finally found the power button. The TV snapped off, plunging the room into silence, save for the sound of Duchess’ soft panting and her own ragged breaths. She pressed a hand to her chest, grounding herself, forcing her lungs to expand.

She was safe. Roman was gone.

But the ghosts he left behind still refused to let her go.

The house buzzed with movement. The steady rip of packing tape. The shuffle of footsteps against hardwood. The low murmur of conversation between the movers as they carried out furniture. Ivy kneeled beside Zaia, supervising her as she carefully placed her toys into her toy box. Across the room, Carmelo grunted as he helped one of the movers lift the couch.

“Man, you got it?” he asked, adjusting his grip.

The mover huffed out a breath. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little heavier than I expected.”

Carmelo smirked. “You should hit the gym more.”

Becky laughed beside Ivy, shaking her head as she taped up a half-filled moving box. “Lyra’s gonna miss this one,” she said, pointing at Zaia. “She’s been talking about Zaia nonstop.”

Ivy smiled, warmth creeping into her chest. “We’ll visit. I promise.”

Zaia grinned, cradling her favorite plush bear. “I wanna see Lyra on my birthday!”

“Of course, baby,” Ivy murmured, reaching over to playfully tug her braid.

There was a knock at the door. More neighbors, coming to say goodbye. She had already cried too much today. Every hug, every well-wish, every we’ll miss you had threatened to break her all over again. She wasn’t sure she had any more tears left to give.

As she stood, Carmelo called out from across the room, rummaging through a half-packed box. “Yo, Ivy, you seen my sunglasses? I swear I left ‘em on the counter.”

Ivy sighed, brushing a stray loc from her face. “You mean the ones you lose every time you take them off?”

Carmelo scoffed. “Man, just tell me if you’ve seen ‘em!”

She smirked, shaking her head as she made her way toward the foyer. “Maybe check the top of your big ass head—”

She pulled the door open.

Her blood ran cold.

At the other end of her door, inexplicably, was Roman.

The side of his face was slick with blood, a deep gash splitting his temple. His shirt hung open, torn and stained, a bullet hole gaping through the fabric where she had shot him. But it was what he held in his left hand that sent the air wheezing from her lungs.

Angelo’s severed head. Gemini’s severed head. Their lifeless faces frozen in a final, gruesome scream.

Her knees locked, her breath catching in her throat.

Roman smiled, the evil glint in his eyes sending ice through her veins.

“Hey, baby girl.”

In his other hand, he lifted a gun. His gun.

The one she shot him with.

Pointing it right at her.

“No!”

BANG!

Ivy shot upright, a strangled gasp of terror ripping through her chest. The world spun around her. Her stomach twisted, bile rising fast and hot. She barely had time to throw off the covers before she was bolting to the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet.

Her body lurched forward, her stomach twisting as she vomited. Her entire frame trembled, sweat clinging to her skin in a cold sheen, the contents of her stomach emptying in a grimy cascade.

Gasping for breath, she pushed herself upright, slow and unsteady, gripping the edges of the sink for support. She turned the faucet on, cupping cool water in her hands before rinsing her mouth, spitting out the lingering taste of bile. The cold water soothed the rawness in her throat, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her. 

The dream. The same damn dream. Over and over. It refused to let her go.

Why wouldn’t it let her go?

With a shaky breath, she turned and sank onto the closed toilet seat, pressing her palms over her face. Her pulse thundered in her ears. No matter how many times she woke up, no matter how many deep breaths she took, the fear never left. It was with a vice-like grip that simply refused to loosen.

“Mama?”

Jumping slightly, she wiped her mouth quickly, looking up to see Zaia standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. Without a word, she stretched out her arms, allowing her daughter to walk into her embrace. She tugged her into her lap, pressed her lips to the crown of her head and smoothed a trembling hand over her little bonnet.

Zaia hesitated, then nestled closer, her small fingers gripping Ivy’s nightgown tightly. “I have bad dreams too,” she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Ivy’s heart clenched. She shut her eyes for a moment, resting her head against her daughter’s. Just a child. She should’ve never had to know this kind of fear.

A lengthy moment of silence drifted between them before Zaia sighed. “I’m gonna miss my friends when we move,” she said, her voice small and wistful.

Grateful for the change in subject, Ivy nodded. “I know, baby. But we’ll make new memories. We’ll celebrate Christmas in our new home. It’s gonna be fun,” she promised.

Zaia yawned, her grip tightening around her mom’s waist. “Okay.”

Ivy held her baby close as she carried her back to the bedroom, grounding herself in her warmth. The nightmare still lingered in the back of her mind, but here, in this moment, she wasn’t drowning in it.

She was still here. Still fighting. And maybe…just maybe…things would get better.

Somehow.

Three Months Later

Windham Penitentiary had descended into absolute bedlam.

Smoke coiled through the air, thick and acrid, stinging the eyes and burning the lungs of anyone still breathing. The relentless screech of alarms blended with the chaotic roar of hundreds of men, their voices rising in a primal symphony of rage and freedom. Inmates swarmed every hallway, their movements frantic and violent, like a hive disturbed. Some were smashing light fixtures, the bulbs bursting in showers of glass, plunging sections of the prison into flickering darkness. Others ripped mattresses apart, their stuffing floating like snowfall in the destruction.

Blood gushed over the concrete floors, fresh boot prints trailing in every direction. The guards who had been unlucky enough to be caught in the initial frenzy now lay crumpled, unconscious, or worse, their bodies discarded against walls like broken furniture. Those still standing were fighting desperately, swinging batons, deploying tear gas, yelling orders that fell on deaf ears.

Somewhere in the chaos, a cluster of correctional officers sprinted toward a specific cell, their faces tight with dread. Their radios crackled with desperate voices, but no reinforcements were coming. Not tonight.

They skidded to a stop in front of the open cell.

Their worst fear materialized before their eyes.

Strowman lay on the floor, his huge neck twisted unnaturally, a deep crimson pool expanding beneath his throat. His keys, slick with blood, glinted in his rigid fingers. His expression was frozen in something caught between shock and agony, his eyes still open, staring vacantly at the ceiling.

There was no one else inside the cell.

Hobbs was gone.

A cold, crippling silence settled over the officers even as the riot raged on around them. The hairs on their arms rose as the weight of realization crashed down upon them like a massive boulder. This wasn’t just an escape.

The ghost had slipped through another pair of fingers. 

Hundreds of miles away, Detective Cody Rhodes was wrecking his office.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his fists onto his desk so hard that the entire surface rattled, a stack of files toppling over the edge. His growls came in short, ragged bursts, his chest heaving with the sheer force of his rage. His eyes squeezed shut for half a second, then out came a guttural roar that burst from somewhere deep within his gut.

How? How had this motherfucker gotten away again?

He ran a shaking hand through his blond hair before gripping the edge of his desk and flipping it over with another roar, sending everything crashing to the floor. Papers, pens, his goddamn badge. None of it mattered.

Strowman was dead.

Hobbs was gone.

Again!

And he had nothing. Again!

With a furious snarl, he grabbed the nearest chair and launched it across the room. It crashed against the wall, splintering on impact, but the destruction did nothing to cool the fire burning through him. His vision blurred red, his thoughts a relentless cycle of curses and failures.

That bastard was out there.

Again!

And yet again, Cody had no fucking idea where.

The night stretched on, endless and black, swallowing the empty highway in both directions. The road was cracked and worn, long forgotten by civilization. There were no streetlights. No signs of life. Just the sound of wind scraping across the desolate land.

A lone, hulking figure moved through the darkness, blending with it as one, trudging along the side of the road.

He walked with an easy stride, his hood pulled low over his face, casting shadows where a beard once covered his jaw. Clean-shaven now, his features were different, altered just enough to make a second glance have doubts.

In one hand, he held a photograph. A woman with a little girl.

His thumb dragged over Ivy’s face, slow, thoughtful, lust-filled. Then Zaia’s. Fatherly, nurturing, comforting.

The low hum of an approaching vehicle broke the stillness. Headlights cut through the night, growing brighter, nearing fast.

Roman turned purposefully toward them, lifting his arm, extending his thumb. His grip tightened on the photograph.

As the car slowed to a stop beside him, his smirk widened.

She couldn’t breathe.

The bathroom felt smaller, much smaller. The walls were pressing in, trapping her in the harsh, artificial light. Her body trembled, still raw from retching, but the nausea wasn’t fading. Hadn’t faded for weeks, for one single horrifying reason. It wasn’t the nightmares. It wasn’t the stress.

It was something much more devastating. 

Her fingers curled around the plastic white stick in her lap, the small screen glaring up at her. A single word. A simple, undeniable truth.

Her stomach lurched, and she barely managed to swallow down another wave of sickness. Her other hand clutched at the counter as she forced herself to look again, to see the second test beside it. The same positive result.

Oh god.

A strangled whimper broke from her throat as she stumbled backward, pressing herself against the cold tile as if she could shrink away from the reality in front of her. Her chest heaved, her pulse a frantic, erratic, unnatural rhythm in her ears.

This couldn’t be happening.

I will always be a part of you.

His words echoed in her skull, that dark, possessive whisper that had haunted her even in freedom. She had spent months trying to erase him, trying to cleanse herself of his touch, his presence.

Her hands shook violently as she clutched at her stomach, fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt. She wanted to reach into herself and tear it out, wanted to claw him out of her, wanted to make this not real.

But it was real.

Her red-rimmed vision blurred as the first sob broke free, then another, until she was on her knees, gasping, unraveling, drowning in a fresh, endless nightmare.

She had fought so hard to escape him. So, so hard.

But now, he was inside her.

Literally.

Still here. Still owning her. Still tethered to her like a parasite.

A parasite he’d put in her.

You ain’t never gon’ be free of me. You belong to me forever, baby girl.

He was right.

She was never going to be free.

THE END.

A/N: Let me start off by shouting out and sincerely thanking my partner in crime, @harmshake, for her genius. All the brainstorming on Google Docs and the email back and forths paid off. This would have NEVER happened without her, she kickstarted this and is this reason this story has been so epic. Love you, dear!

Another massive thank you to everyone who has read and commented and supplied so many theories and guesses. I loved reading and responding to every one of them and I appreciate you all!

This is also to confirm that this universe ends here. A Part 2 will be damn near impossible for me, as writing this was so emotionally and sometimes physically draining. Again, it's a psychological (erotic) thriller, and cliffhangers are a staple that I'm happily taking advantage of.

On the bright side, there will be a reimagining of the characters from this universe in another universe, coming soon.

Would love to know your thoughts on this final chapter!

Dr. Ari is played by @trippinsorrows

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