#it's so simple in my head and yet so complicated to explain.....

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

me tryna explain the difference between "fridging" and "death by origin story" and "character dies and that impacts other characters and that's not a bad writing decision"

[arolesbianism]

You know if anyone ever thinks that I maybe go a lil overboard with my Olivia characterisation sometimes just know that it could be so much worse. You could be reading abt my alternate timeline Olivia thoughts

[silkscream]

natural devotion

ੈ✩ synopsis: gojo finds you, his ex-wife, in a sketchy dive bar. he almost doesn't recognize you.

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), previous arranged marriage, ex-husband!gojo, clanleader!gojo, rough bathroom sex, semi-public sex, drunk sex, oral, fingering + penetration, light choking, gojo is.... weird idk how to explain. he's just strange and cold and possessive and so odd

ੈ✩ wc: 3.2k

ੈ✩ a/n: literally nobody asked for this. also it's unedited. sorry

Gojo thinks he sees a ghost when he sees you.

At least, he thinks it’s you.

You don’t see him yet, so he takes the liberty to scan you over more thoroughly. You’re not wearing anything like the simple, modest attire he remembered you donning around his estate. Instead, you’re in a form-fitting crop top and the tiniest mini skirt Gojo has ever seen. He’s not sure if it even classifies as a skirt.

Interesting.

He takes a breath as he sits down next to you, interrupting your conversation with the bartender to offer his card. You turn to look at him and you laugh.

“Put hers on my tab,” Gojo says.

“Always the gentleman.”

“You know I’ll always take care of you. Even if we aren’t married anymore.”

You could scoff at that, but you decide to be polite. He’s as candid as he’s always been. It used to humiliate you, but you aren’t the same docile little wife you used to be. You also realize his gesture could be interpreted as tender, which isn’t something you were ever used to in your marriage.

He was a cold man and it was a marriage of convenience.

Or perhaps he was only cold to you. You would watch how he would interact at social gatherings and clan parties, his charisma infecting entire rooms. Toothy grins that shone as brightly as his hair. Always loud, animated, and magnetic.

To you, he was mostly indifferent.

He was never outwardly mean, but he was constantly occupied with missions. It almost felt as if you weren’t married at all. You enjoyed speaking to him when he was around, though. There were moments when you could almost picture yourself being his friend, but then he would be away and come back cold. 

When you asked for a divorce, he complied without a blink. Even after you were free from becoming an incubator for the Gojo clan’s next heir, something in your chest ached at how easily Gojo signed the papers.

And now, he’s tipsy in a bar with you and more tuned into your presence than ever. When he looks at you, there’s a lingering that you convince yourself you’re hallucinating.

Small talk with him is odd. He’s much more complicated than that, but here you are, discussing trivial things right now. If he’s remarried yet (he hasn’t). If you honed in on your cursed technique (you have).

It’s terribly odd. Like talking to a stranger that you’ve only met in a dream.

“I thought you’d have better taste in bars,” he drawls, sipping a Cosmo. It was annoyingly endearing, the way he wasn’t the kind of man to have a glass of whiskey despite acting like it.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not a regular. This place is full of perverts.”

“Does that include you?”

Gojo grins. “Not like some of these guys. You would’ve gotten roofied if I didn’t sit down. And your outfit certainly isn’t helping.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” you scoff.

“It is one. You’re a sight to behold. Never saw you in anything like this when we were married.”

“Your clan would have my head. I assume you would, too,” you mutter. 

His eyes are taking you in, flickering between your face and your body. It would make you uncomfortable if you weren’t already three beers in. 

“I wouldn’t be angry. I just don’t promise that I would’ve kept my hands to myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“I think this is the most forward you’ve ever been to me.”

“You were so timid back then,” he smirks. He places a hand on your knee, his thumb tracing the skin. “Such a nervous little girl. There were times I assumed you were cheating on me, the way you were so rigid with me.”

You remember being obedient and quiet. Perhaps rigid, but you had only followed his lead, pushing yourself away from him just because he was doing it to you first. You know you shouldn’t apologize or feel guilty for your lack of intimacy with him, but the way he teases you makes your face heat up.

“I wouldn’t cheat on you,” you frown.

“Good,” he smiles. It almost seems genuine. “I wouldn’t have let anyone have you, anyway.”

Your eyes widen in slight surprise.

Why did you let me divorce you, then?

His fingers are tracing circles into the skin of your thigh absentmindedly. The flutter in your chest threatens to pull on your lungs when you notice.

“You’re so different now,” he notes.

“Not really.”

“I don’t just mean the way you look, by the way. Your eyes are sharper. Posture better. Not a meek little thing anymore, huh?”

You could flush at how he belittles you, but the praise gets to your head. 

“Huh. You’re the opposite. You look and act the same as when I last saw you.”

He laughs. “I always liked when you talked back, you know. Anyone ever told you can be a bit of a brat?”

You raise a brow. “Yes.”

His breath smells sweet. Tongue like a candy apple from the sugared liquor in his glass, you were sure. You don’t wince when he gets closer to you.

“Yeah? And how do they deal with it?”

You bite the inside of your cheek before entertaining him.

“Everyone’s a little different,” you mumble.

You miss the flicker of jealousy in his eyes. You’re too distracted by the shape of his mouth.

“What do you think I’d do?” Gojo tilts his head as if he’s taunting you.

“I don’t– what?” you stammer. 

“You’re a smart girl. Use your imagination.”

He grins again. Everything about him is sickeningly sweet. It’s not a side of him you’ve ever seen directed at you. There’s almost a fondness there. You would only see it before in rare moments, usually when Gojo was a little drunk. You suppose he could be drunk now and you’re almost grateful despite yourself. He would always get a little handsy, especially if you were dressed up for his clan events. He’d have his hand only on your leg, crawling up the skirt of your dress. During times like those, he felt like a real husband.

They were always such fleeting moments. Even years after the divorce, certain memories could still make you dizzy. 

Your mouth goes dry. You compose yourself. 

“Sorry. I, uh, have to use the bathroom.”

“Gonna use your imagination in there?” Gojo jokes.

“Something like that,” you mutter back, if only to humor him.

You don’t realize the hole you’ve put yourself in once you utter the words. The invitation you’ve given him. Unfortunately, you’re also still reeling from the conversation, so you forget to lock the door of the handicapped bathroom. 

To be fair, Gojo did try to convince himself not to follow you for the entire three minutes you were gone. But he’s never been that good of a man. It was your fault for being so damn tempting in the first place. But he had tried to be good even in the very beginning – he was polite, kept his hands to himself. Bought you anything you wanted. 

He even let you leave him. After seeing you tonight, he now knows it was a grave mistake.

“Satoru.”

“Hey.” 

He closes the door gently and locks it. Leans against the door with his arms crossed as if waiting for you to do a magic trick from the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Why are you–”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to follow you,” he tuts. 

Okay. Fine. He had a point.

“This must be exciting for you, yeah? Seeing me lose it over you?”

You can’t form words. Despite the fire in your belly, you aren’t completely sure what his angle is here. He steps forward and backs you into the wall. He could pin you to it, easily.

His hands rest on your thighs, riding up the length of the pathetic excuse you call a skirt. 

“You’re trying to kill me with this,” he huffs. “Just making everything so… difficult.”

He almost sounds disappointed in you. There is a rush of desperation flooding your brain like a knee-jerk reaction. You can feel your heart about to burst.

“Sorry,” you mumble. You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.

“I was really trying to behave, too,” Gojo sighs. “Wouldn’t want to scare my ex-wife away with how much I missed her. Christ.”

“You– what?”

“Yeah, baby. How could I not miss this face?” He strokes your cheek. You’re convinced he’s been possessed by someone else, maybe. Mistaken you for a different stranger.

Your knees are already going weak. He leans in to whisper in your ear. The hand stroking your cheek holds your chin, squishing your face slightly.

“Didn’t you miss me?”

“I… I did,” you whisper.

“Good,” he smiles softly. “I like knowing you still think about me.”

The proximity is driving him insane, but he’s always liked to play with you. Sometimes he would be a little mean on purpose, but never enough to be considered bullying. He just enjoyed watching you squirm back then — it was adorable how dedicated you were to playing the part of a doting wife. He wanted to see you crack, maybe beg for his attention, but you were always too stubborn.

His cock throbs knowing that you’re putty in his hands now. Melting against him, soft and willing like a blooming flower. God, he needs a taste. He nibbles on your earlobe and grins when he feels your breath hitch.

“I kind of wanted to just take you right there on the bar. Let all those creeps see how good I’d fuck you.”

Your eyes flutter rapidly at his words. He has pinned you to the wall now. You’re close enough to feel him press against you, bullet-hard. A little more teasing and he’d pull the trigger. 

He kisses down your neck, mapping it out with his teeth. He’s barely touched you and you feel like an elastic band about to snap.

“S-Satoru–”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You pant lightly. You’re preening into his touch. Lightning makes roots down the center of your spine. You forget what you wanted to say.

“What is it? You want me to take care of you?” He pulls back this time to look you directly in the eyes. His expression softens just a second at the lovestruck look in your eyes. Tender and glistening.

You nod slowly.

“I need your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” your voice shakes. “I want you to take care of me.”

He hums, pleased. The desire in his face is so new to you despite having been his wife. He’d only fucked you once before, on your anniversary. You were too tempting and he, admittedly, was tired of punishing himself by not allowing himself the pleasure of having you.

He could see you now, sprawled on the tatami mat, how you smelled like cherry blossoms. Flashes of images reeling in his mind, every little sound you made. He’d fucked his fist to the memory of it all too often after you left him. 

He felt honored to have the real thing in his hands right now.

He kisses you like he needs you to breathe. You feel blood rush to your ears, the music from the bar muffled. All you could hear were the sound of his grunts, the slickness of his tongue in between your lips. 

He spins you around abruptly, bending you over the sink. Hand on your throat, teeth in the tendon of your shoulder.

“Look at how pretty you are,” he rasps. 

You whimper, feeling his hard cock rut against the curve of your ass. He laughs when he swipes his hand underneath your skirt, the fabric of your underwear already wet. 

You gasp sharply when he eases a finger in without any resistance. He swallows the sounds you make, craning your neck towards his face with his hand while the other works another finger in. Your stomach flips, all boiling heat when he curves his fingers in just the right spot. As if he’d done it a dozen times.

“Dirty girl,” Gojo mumbles. “Getting off to her ex-husband's fingers all the way up in her cunt. In a fucking dive bar bathroom, too.”

When you whine, he only scissors into you harder and laughs. It kills you how much it turns you on, even while knowing he’s being cruel. You would fantasize about it all the time back then. Needed him to make you a real wife so you could forget yourself. You close your eyes, groaning.

“S-Satoru, I–”

“You’re not gonna cum just from that, are you?” You hear a grin in his voice.

“Fuck, please —”

His fingers leave you, making you whine in protest. The sopping mess of your arousal trickles down your inner thighs. 

“Not yet, baby. Want you to cum in my mouth.”

Gojo drops to his knees and flips up your skirt, pulling your soiled underwear down your legs at the same time. You cover your mouth to keep from moaning when you feel his tongue prodding at your cunt. 

“I always regret not tasting you on our anniversary,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “You’re sweeter than I imagined.”

“Imagined?” you squeak out.

“You thought I stopped wanting you just because I signed a piece of paper?”

“I didn’t – oh, fuck —”

You’re distracted by the plunge of his tongue into cunt. He sucks at the hood of your clit and you feel yourself jerk involuntarily. He’s fond of your sensitivity. He used to want to take advantage of it.

You let a particular loud whine and he hums, lapping up every drop of your arousal. He sucks at your clit in earnest while he brings his fingers back to you, immediately reaching for the spot he knows will make you see stars. 

You cum so hard that you nearly bang your head against the sink faucet. Your head is spinning from the impact of it, dizzied on the high that came from a clan head in your cunt. The alcohol wasn’t helping.

He’s quick to get to his feet and kiss you so you can taste yourself. He tugs your hair and you arch for him like a taut bowstring.

“Feel how much I want you, baby?” You can feel his dick against you, something like shame flooding your system at how much of a mess you were. Getting his nice slacks all damp with your slick.

“Please,” you beg. 

He doesn’t think twice once he hears your plea. He unbuckles his belt quickly and slides down his pants. He collects your wetness in between your folds to stroke his dick. 

It feels like he’s gouging your stomach when he fucks into you. Bigger than any man you’ve had, still. Gojo likes that he was your first and he’s decided now that he will be your last.

“Tight,” Gojo mutters. You know it’s a compliment but your face heats up nonetheless. His hand around your throat is only more confirmation of his want. 

He smacks your ass with his other hand, looking down to admire the reddish mark he left. Brute. He grins when you squeeze him tighter after it. He notices your eyes struggling to stay open and gives a particularly hard thrust just to see your jaw go slack. Eyes in half-moons, boiled by the heat of your thumping heart. Blood pumping to every soft spot in your body, your brain.

“Satoru,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

“F-Feels so…”

You inhale sharply, eyes widening when his hand snakes down to pinch your clit. Your hair’s wrapped his knuckles now. A ribbon around a wedding gift. He liked when you used to wear ribbons around your neck. Liked imagining you all wrapped up for him. 

Satoru was so beautiful when he did anything, but he was angelic when he was fucking you. Cheeks all carmine, mouth wide open. It was something you wanted to get used to.

“You keep clenching, Jesus,” he grunts. Teeth at your nape, at your shoulder. Blue eyes staring at you in the mirror.

“Satoru, I’m close,” you whine.

“Hold it.”

“I– I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. You’re a good girl, even if you are dressed like a little slut.”

You whimper at that, your cunt pulsating at his words. Muscles strung out like a wet rag. You nearly cry when he pulls out of you, manhandling you to turn. He picks you up to set you down on the cold sink counter, the porcelain soothing the bruising on your ass.

He groans as he pumps himself slowly, admiring the way his tip catches on your entrance. You squirm a little, impatient, and he kisses you. It feels invasive, almost, from how rough he plays with you, sucks on your tongue. He takes the opportunity to ram into you, enjoying the way the pitched whine rolling out of your mouth gets tasted by him.

“Missed my cock, didn’t you?” he smirks. “Still the best you’ve ever had, right?”

“Y-Yes,” you sob.

His gut fucking melts.

Your mascara was getting smudged, not smudgy like he’d see in porn, but blending in the rim of your wet eyes. Dew-drop lashes.

“Feels best like this. Wanna see your face when you cum for me,” he pants. 

Your hands are on his shoulders, clinging onto him. He’s so much bigger than you, especially like this — your legs spread, his big hands gripping your thigh hard enough to hurt a little. You moan. Your voice sounds girlier than usual, wounded. You don’t recognize yourself. 

“Oh, it’s too deep—”

“No such thing,” Satoru snickers. “You’re – hah – so good at this. Good girl.”

“S-Satoru, it’s too–”

“You love it. Tell me.”

“F-fuck — I,” – you struggle mindlessly, voice strained – “I love it…”

“I know, baby,” he coos. Kisses your forehead, which is hilariously domestic and gentle considering the mean pace of his hips. 

He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You’re so fucked out. He’d ask you to take a picture if he wasn’t so focused on making you cum.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Please, please, please—”

“Okay, honey,” he chuckles. “You can cum now.”

Your moan is louder than expected as your cunt squeezes him impossibly tight. You can feel all the warmth rush out of you. You really are a sight to behold, which is why Satoru cums immediately after you. You feel like you might pass out. 

He kisses you all over your face, mumbling praise as you come back to your body. It’s all most nonsensical, but you swear you hear I love you. Your half-lidded eyes close as he envelops you with his arms, mascara streaking his shoulder.

He opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by a succession of loud knocks.

“Other people need to piss!”

Satoru scoffs, pulling away from you to slide his pants back up and buckle them. He mouths something to you that you don’t understand and leans down to grab your underwear to give to you.

“Just a second!” Satoru yells. “My wife is sick, had a bit too much to drink. Almost done.”

“Wife?” you whisper, bewildered.

Satoru eyes soften in amusement. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

[classyrbf]

STILL IN LOVE! #12 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…only to realize it’s much more complicated than you led on

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce, mentions of jail, blood, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

series masterlist

As soon as you stepped back inside the house you immediately made your way over to the bedroom to grab your phone. Your head was still spinning from what just happened. Your heart was pounding so fast you could hear it in your ears. The thought of Toji going to jail made you anxious, scared. You two finally started off on the right foot, making little progress each day and you didn’t want to tell the kids that their father was in jail. Hell, you didn’t even know how long he’d be in jail for this kind of shit. You didn’t have the money to bail him out, whatever the cost may be. But you had an idea of who might.

Quickly, you called Gojo. The phone rang while you chewed on your bottom lip, leg bouncing up and down nervously while you waited. “Hello?” It was like a weight lifted off of your shoulders upon hearing his voice.

“Gojo, thank god you fucking answered,” you sighed.

“Y/n? Oh no…what’d he do this time? Better be worth you waking me up for,” he yawned.

You let out a soft chuckle before explaining, “he’s in jail, or is gonna end up in jail—”

“Hold up, what?” Gojo jumped up, brows furrowing at your words.

“To make a long story short, my ex boyfriend came over this morning while toji was here, he said some shit toji didn’t like and toji beat the shit outta him. Cops were called and they dragged both of them away and said toji will most likely go to jail,” you explained, biting the inside of your cheek.

“And I’m guessing you need me to bail him out? Yeah?”

“Yes…Gojo, please. Me and Toji…we were doing good and the kids and it’s just—”

“Listen, call Shoko to pick the kids up after school and I’ll be over in a little bit,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Toji sat in the chair, hands laying flat on the desk as he waited in the dingy questioning room. He felt like some big time criminal, considering what happened. He was annoyed, having to go through this whole process over a simple fight. “People are pussies,” he muttered to himself. Nanami should’ve kept his mouth shut, especially about the kids. He should’ve left when you asked him to and instead he kept on going.

All Toji could think about was you, wondering if you were disappointed in him, upset or even at your breaking point with him. He promised he wouldn’t mess up his chance, and yet here is sitting in a police station with the high probability of being put behind bars. He impatiently tapped his foot on the ground, the buzzing sound of the overhead fluorescent lights making his head pound. The slight cut on lip still stung everytime he licked his lips, a faint taste of blood on his tongue.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts, a police officer walking in and flashing a quick, fake smile at Toji. “Alright, Mr…Fushiguro.” The man took a seat across from Toji and it couldn’t help but make his eye twitch.

“When can I leave?” Were the first words that came out of his mouth. “I need to see my wife and kids.”

The officer chuckled, shaking his head. “Not until we get your side of the story. We already questioned Mr. Nanami, and we got your wife’s—ex wife’s side as well, so you’re next. Mind telling me what happened from beginning to end?” The officer clicked the blue pen his had in his hand, flipping the next page in his notepad.

“I woke up, made breakfast for my wife and shortly after she woke up as well. We talked for a little, didn’t even get to sit down and eat before the doorbell rang. She answered it and I looked over to see it was her ex boyfriend at the door,” he mumbles, not once shifting his gaze.

“You say she’s your wife and you say Mr. Nanami is he ex boyfriend. But he says that you two are divorced,” the officer adds.

“We are but we plan on working things out, so she’s my wife.” The officer nods are Toji’s words, scribbling it down on the white paper. “I walk over to the door and stand behind her, and they’re having a conversation about their relationship. She told they broke up—he broke up with her because of me and our relationship. Fair enough. She respected it and realized that maybe me and her should work stuff out because of our kids—”

“So why exactly did he show up?” The officer cocks his head to the side.

“To apologize and get her back. Why else would he be there? She didn’t want to and that’s when shit hit the fan.” Toji shrugged.

“By ‘shit hit the fan’ you mean when started saying nasty comments? Your wife said he began belittling her, talking about your kids and your relationship? Am I correct?” His brows raise, the tip of the pen to his paper.

“She asked him to leave, and he wouldn’t. He was saying stuff about how are relationship wouldn’t last and how I only wanted to keep her around for…sex. Then he brought up my kids, and that’s when I knocked his ass to floor. Sound bout right?” Toji blinked, completely uninterested.

“You say she asked him to leave and he wouldn’t?” The officer glances up at him for a quick second.

“Yeah,” toji responds.

“Just one more question, you don’t live there right?” The officer folded his hands in front of him.

Toji hesitated to answer. He knew if he said no, they’d probably charge him, but he said yeah, he’d be lying but he probably won’t get charged due to fact Nanami was most likely trespassing. “I do. Been living there for about a month.”

“Alright, that’s all I needed to know. Be back in few.” The chair screeched against the floor as the officer stood and walked out the room.

With a roll of Toji’s eyes he let out a scoff. “Fucking pigs.”

You paced back and forth in the living room, nervously biting at your nails, anticipating the moment Gojo knocked on the door. You couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like the universe had placed some kind of curse on you. Was it so hard to have one good day? Apparently so. The sound of knocking pulled you from your thoughts, wasting no time to unlock the door where you were met with Gojo himself, in sweatpants, a hoodie, and his hair disheveled. It was weird not seeing him dress up for once.

“Gojo.” You quickly hugged him.

“Hey, hey.” He hugged back, stepping into your house. “So, what the fuck happened? Did he seriously get arrested?” He shook his head in confusion.

You let out a deep sigh, just the thought of talking about it made you feel tired, annoyed, upset. You weren’t sure what you were. “Yes? I mean, they dragged both of them away, but Toji hit first.” You plopped down on the couch, holding your head in your hands. “He’s most likely going to jail.”

“He is going to jail,” Gojo corrected. “If they find out he doesn’t live here, and that he swung first…jail time!” Gojo sat beside you. “Depends on how much your ex boyfriend is willing to tell.” He glanced at you.

You groaned in annoyance, falling back onto the plush cushions. “Okay, but he was talking about our kids and saying all shit to me and—”

“You think cops give a shit? All they care about is sending whoever to jail. Toji or whatever his name is. And knowing Toji’s record with the police, he’s not making it out of this one.” Gojo reached into his pocket pulling out a piece of candy. “Want some?”

You glared at him, blinking. Was he serious? “Did you seriously bring candy?” You asked, looking at the piece of taffy he held between his fingers.

“Yeah, I had a whole bag of ‘em. Anyway, you want it?” He held it out to you.

“Gojo, can we please focus right now? What if he gets let off without a warning? That’s good right?” Someway somehow you’re hoping that’s the best possible outcome in this situation.

“Well, then excellent. Wait, did he like bash his face in? Or how bad are we talking?” Gojo narrowed his eyes.

“Gojo, I don’t know! For fucks sake!” You rose to your feet, stress levels rising higher. “How do we even know he’s in jail? He’s probably locked up as we speak!” You were panicking and you weren’t exactly why. Gojo said he’d bail him out for you, so coming up with money wasn’t a problem. It’s the fact that you felt like this was entirely your fault. Your relationship with Kento and your relationship with Toji, everything came crashing down. As a grown woman with two kids, you’d think you’d know better and know how to confront your own feelings without getting others involved but apparently that was impossible for you.

Though, it’s not like you expect Kento to show up on your doorstep this morning wanting to take you back. You felt horrible. He was a good man, sweet and kind, and you, you were still stuck on your ex husband and clearly that hurt him. You were sorry for that, you take responsibility that. But that gave him no excuse to bring your kids into this. Everything about this was so fucked up. Even more than before.

“Listen, relax. They’ll allow him some phone calls if they do lock him up. He will most likely call you, and you’ll spill the great news to him! No problem!” Gojo shrugged it off, reaching into his pocket to pull out another piece of taffy.

“It’s been like three hours already.” You huff.

“Then he’s probably locked up,” he casually said, popping the candy into his mouth.

“Can you take this seriously for one second?” You you take a deep breath, finding the inner strength not to yell and cuss Gojo out just because you were extremely overwhelmed.

“I am! Listen, you know he’s been in jail before! He’s fine!” Gojo swatted his hand, brushing off the situation like it was so casual.

“Yeah, with you! When you two got into that stupid ass bar fight and Shoko and Geto called me at three in the fucking morning!” Your nostrils flared, rolling your eyes at the man in front of you.

“No need to dwell on the past—wait, is that—”

“What?” You looked at Gojo, eyes wide.

“Is that your phone?” He stands up.

You run towards your bedroom, nearly tripping over your own feet as the sound of your phone ringing grew louder. “Fuck where is it?” Your eyes scanned over your dresser and nightstand before you standing tearing your blankets off of the bed. Your phone flew to the floor and you quickly grabbed it, seeing it was an unsaved number. Fuck.

“Hello? Toji?” Your voice shook as you spoke. You could hear slight breathing on the other end.

“Baby…”

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[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: IV | 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: 10,073

—  warnings: sexual tension, some nervousness, strong language, mention of sex, mention of breakup, mention of pain, crying, teasing, pain, screaming, some panicking, and nudity

—  author’s note: this is for now my absolute favorite chapter of this series. so many things happen & it’s a very vulnerable one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter 🤗 let me know what you think and thanks from the bottom of my heart for the love shown to this series ❤️

Chapter IV: standing next to you

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook is patiently waiting for you at the fertility clinic’s entrance.

Today is a special day.

It’s the first day you’ll meet your little baby. However, it’s also a bit of a terrifying day because there’s a possibility that there’s something wrong with the baby.

The werewolf king hasn’t slept at all, too worried about today. Yesterday, you told him about this appointment, and he asked if he could come. How could you say ‘no’ to him? He desires so much to be involved, you can see it in his eyes.

Now that you’re both on the same page about the baby, it feels like you’re on cloud nine. You’re both going to have a child, except it’s definitely not going to be as planned. You were both planning on being alone, but you have each other now.

Jungkook senses you arriving in your car, his eyes completely drawn to you. Feeling your presence from far away is something very new to him; he never experienced it with anybody else. Not even with Yuna. He keeps wondering if it’s because you’re carrying his child, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

His entire being is always captivated by you. Whenever you’re around, you’re the only thing that truly matters. There’s something so different about you that he can’t quite explain. Being with you makes him feel good.

As you step out of your car, his eyes lock onto you, completely captivated by your beauty. You’re dressed in sleek black trousers and a white shirt that hints at your cleavage, an effortless yet striking combination. His gaze follows your every move as you open the passenger door to retrieve your long black coat and purse.   

The man swallows with difficulty. He finds you extremely beautiful, he’d even say that he has never laid his eyes on someone this pretty. Yuna can’t even compare next to you. And what makes you even prettier is the little life you’re carrying inside you. You’re the mother to his child which is quite a big deal though.

When you notice him, a bright smile appears on your face. His beauty is quite striking, and you wonder how you’ll be able to live a life with such a handsome man. You hope that the baby will take his good looks, because damn, Jungkook is alluring.

His outfit is a bit more casual than yesterday’s, but it’s still more formal than when meeting him at the town square. He’s dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a checked suit jacket. It’s simple, but definitely a great look.

Once you’ve reached him, you actually don’t really know what to do. Do you simply stay in front of him? Or do you kiss on the cheek? Or do you shake his hand?

“A simple kiss on the cheek is enough.”

Jungkook didn’t move his lips at all although you’ve heard him loud and clear in your head.

“Did you say something?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head.

That’s weird.

However, you decide to follow the voice in you heard—that probably was a hallucination. You get closer to him before pressing a gentle kiss on his squishy cheek. Both of your hearts start beating at the same rapid rhythm. For a moment, Jungkook notices how in synch your hearts are beating, but he doesn’t really give too much credit to it.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you say after the kiss.

“Hi, yn,” he takes a step back to look at you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” the brightest smile appears on your face.

The two of you head inside the clinic while casually talking about how you’re feeling about this appointment. By the looks of it, Jungkook is more nervous than you. You’re actually not really worried as you constantly hear your child’s heartbeat that grows stronger every day. The only concern there might be is if the baby has any malformation, but even like that, you feel that deep down, you know the baby is just fine.

The doctor—who gave you the extremely bad news of the sample mix-up a month ago—makes her way inside the room after you both got inside. She clearly doesn’t know how to act in front of you, but you decide to smile to put her at ease. On the other side, Jungkook seems closed off, he almost looks pissed.

“Hi Miss y/l/n and Mister Jeon,” she offers you both a smile while she invites you to take a seat.

The two of you sit down before she does the same. Jungkook clearly doesn’t look happy; he seems to still resent her for the mistake made.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks with concern.

“I’m actually doing great,” you inform her.

You look at your right to Jungkook, trying to check his reaction. His dark and intense eyes are fixed on the doctor, leaving you wondering if he’s planning on answering or if he’ll just keep looking at her like he’s about to kill her. By the way his jaw clenches, you assume he’ll ignore her. But, to your surprise, he breaks the tension with a sharp answer.

“Could be better,” he coldly says.

The sharpness in his tone makes you blink. “You could be nicer to her,” those are the words you’d definitely like to say to him, but you resist the urge to call him out. Jungkook turns to you abruptly, his expression unreadable, as always.

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing. Your eyes widen as you realize what just happened. He heard you.

 “This woman gave me a hundred heart attacks,” he continues. “No way, I’ll be nice to her.”    

You stare at each other in silence, your hearts beating rapidly. None of you has moved your lips, but you’ve been mentally talking. This is too wild for you. Jungkook doesn’t understand how on earth that is possible, and you believe that it’s one of those werewolf abilities you’re still discovering.

“Again, I’d like to apologize again for this mistake,” she clears her throat, pulling both of you back into the room. “The costs have been fully refunded to you this week. In principle, you should have already received the reimbursement by now.”

You nod as you remember seeing your bank account increase a lot after receiving the money. It’s honestly so weird to have so much right now, but you’ll transfer most of it to your investment and spare accounts. There’s no way you’ll leave your money to lose value.

While the refund doesn’t erase the mistake, it’s a reminder of how messy this whole situation has been.

“Before we proceed with the ultrasound,” the doctor continues. “I’d like to confirm with you if you’ve made a decision about the pregnancy,” she says.

Jungkook’s unreadable and mysterious face sends shivers down your spine. The energy he radiates is heavier and darker, and you feel the storm growing inside him. He seems to have become a totally different person since entering the room. You know he’s furious at the clinic for their huge mistake, and you understand why. But now, you’ve both decided to keep the baby so in the end, it’s all good.

But still, you need him here, not lost in his anger.

 “Yes,” you gently say, offering a small smile before your gaze moves back to the man sitting next to you. “We’ve decided to proceed with the pregnancy.”

“Okay, perfect then!” she seems to relax now.

You can see that he’s holding back, you can sense his anger, but you don’t want to see him like this. You’re about to meet your baby. You place your hand on top of his to gently squeeze it, your thumb tracing soothing circles over his skin.

You instantly see his stiff shoulder relax slightly, and you can sense the heat of his anger vanishing, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. You hold onto his hand, willing him to stay calm. He remains quiet, though you can feel him shimmering under the surface. The doctor stands up and gestures toward the next room.

“We can go then do the ultrasound,” she stands up. “How would you like to proceed?”

You’re both confused about her question, not really understanding what she means.

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing between her and Jungkook.

“This is a pelvic ultrasound,” she explains. “The baby is very small, so we can’t use the standard method.”

“Oh,” you both respond at the same time, the realization dawning on you.

“I’ll leave you then alone,” Jungkook instantly retorts while he shifts in his seat.  

“No,” you grab his arm before he can move, your eyes meeting his with determination. “This is your child too. You should be here for the first ultrasound.”

“If you’d prefer,” the doctor starts suggesting. “Mister Jeon can wait outside while you get settled. I’ll ensure your privacy is protected and call him to be next to you once you’re ready.”

You consider her words, appreciating the balance of practicality and respect. This approach seems reasonable, and it might ease Jungkook’s discomfort. You glance at him, silently asking for his agreement. After a moment, he nods.

“Fine,” his voice softens.

The doctor leads you to the room, and Jungkook’s hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before letting you go. Even though he’s not right next to you, you feel his steady presence, grounding you as you prepare to see your baby for this very first time.  

Once you’re in the other room, you remove your bottoms. The doctor gestures for you to lie down on the gynecological examination table and place your leg on the stirrups. This is such a vulnerable position, but you’ve been doing this a lot since you started this journey.

This is a room you’ve seen quite a lot, and it almost feels like a second house. The white sterile walls could make you feel uncomfortable, but the soft and calming lighting makes it feel like a warm room. It’s appeasing when you go through this entire process to procreate.

On your right, there is the ultrasound machine and a screen together with the material needed for the ultrasound like the gel. There is also the slim and long transvaginal ultrasound probe. It can look very scary, but it actually doesn’t hurt at all.    

“Perfect,” the doctor says once you’re perfectly situated. “I’ll put a little blanket on top to cover you,” she indicates.

You nod with a bit of nervousness. Knowing that Jungkook will see you in this open posture makes you feel a bit anxious. You’ve never come to any gynecologist appointment with any men, not even your exes. It would have felt weird, especially since you were more of a fuck girl. It’s weird to admit it but you’ve always been more comfortable in having sex with somebody than committing to them.

Obviously, you engaged in certain relationships, but it was mostly to try to fill the deep void inside you. There was one man, Elliott with whom you stayed for three years. He’s been the only man who felt right to fall in love with. He treated you right, loved you right, and made you feel right. However, your fear of losing someone special got the best of your relationship. 

This breakup knocked you down. You lost someone you deeply loved, just like you lost your parents. Since then, you haven’t engaged in anything with anybody. No dating and no sex. It’s been about focusing on yourself and understanding yourself better. And it’s been two years.

With this entire process of being a mother on your own, it didn’t feel like two years went by.  

The doctor leaves for a couple of seconds before reappearing with Jungkook. When your eyes meet, you can tell that this is a first time for him. His facial expression almost indicates some shock to see you in this position. It’s not really glamorous, but for now, that’s how you get to meet your little baby.

Jungkook stands at your left, his eyes going between you and the gynecologist material. A smile grows on your face while you watch him; he looks adorable.

The doctor takes the probe, covers it with a kind of long condom, and puts the gel on it. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he sees it, causing your smile to grow bigger. “Is it going to hurt?” he communicates through his thoughts.

“No, don’t worry,” you answer back before grabbing his hand to squeeze it.

It leaves you wondering how things would have gone if he had done this through surrogacy. Would he be present for the first ultrasound? It would be logical if he was because it is his child, but it would feel weird though. Well, this is probably he will never know since it isn’t about surrogacy anymore.

 “Can I?” the doctor asks with the long probe in her hands.

You simply nod, and she proceeds to insert it inside you.

“Just relax,” she tells you.

Jungkook avoids watching down by respect to you, but this is all surprising to him.

The coldness of the device catches you a bit off guard although you should have expected it to be this cool. By reflex, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand, and he obviously starts worrying. However, he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. Just like the doctor, he wants you to relax.

For a moment, you turn to glance at him. His soft expression calms you down, and right now, you wouldn’t want anyone else to be next to you. It’s weird to think that you like his presence around you when you embarked on this journey by yourself. He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. If the samples hadn’t been mixed up, you’d be here alone.

Suddenly, you can see the image on the monitor move. The doctor is looking for the tiny little piece of life inside you. Then, suddenly, a blurry figure appears, and the baby’s heartbeat breaks the silence of the room.

Even though you’ve been hearing their heartbeat since the first day, hearing it loud and clear makes it emotional. The baby is really alive. His tiny moving heart is clearly visible on the monitor. A little tear of joy streams down your face.

The second the heartbeat can be heard, Jungkook squeezes your hand. His baby—or should he say your baby—is thriving inside your belly. This makes it real; he’s about to become a father. A little Jeon is about to join the family, and that fills his heart with a pride he can’t explain.

The circumstances that created this tiny human—and wolf—aren’t the greatest. But this baby has been more than desired by his two parents. The two of you are exceptionally happy to finally see the baby.

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. It’s unique. It’s incredible. And it’s heartwarming.

The doctor is speaking in the background, but none of you seems to pay attention to her words. You’re solemnly focused on the tiny blurry figure on the screen. None of you speak; you simply embrace every emotion you feel, and your hands intertwined together. As you see the baby, you feel excited for the upcoming ultrasounds to see them slowly growing.

“All seems to be fine with the baby,” those words push you out of your reverie.

This is all that matters. If the baby is doing great, you don’t care about the rest. Life has been so chaotic lately, and this is the best news you ever got in the past few weeks.

“So, this was our last appointment together,” she explains while removing the probe. “From now on, you’ll have to be followed by your obstetrician. We will contact you throughout the pregnancy and after the birth to check up on you.”  

Jungkook is relieved that he won’t have to come back to this place. His eyes look down at your fingers entwined; you’re still holding onto each other. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, since the first second he saw you, he knows what you truly represent to him.

Since he met you, he’s been experiencing things he never did with anyone else. He’s been having such a strong connection with you. And now, you can even communicate through thoughts. That is a unique bond. A bond you only create with one person only. Your soulmate.

But that’s something Jungkook doesn’t want to admit or believe right now. There has been so much going on right now, and for sure, when everything will slow down, it will probably hit him in the face.

The father of your child leaves the room so you can get dressed. Once ready, you join him in the doctor’s office. He’s patiently waiting for you, and it truly warms your heart to see him here. You take a seat next to him while the doctor proceeds to explain certain things about what’s next with the pregnancy. She gives a bunch of advice which honestly seems to be helpful.

After fifteen minutes, you leave her office with Jungkook. It’s a weird feeling to know you’re never coming back here again. For a couple of months, you’d come quite often, but your project is finally taking place. You’re about to become a mother. A werewolf mother.

The two of you walk in complete silence until your car. You’re both still processing what you just saw and experienced. When you reach your car, you finally look up at him. He’s biting his lower lip, clearly lost in his thoughts.

“You’re okay?” you ask.

His eyes finally meet yours. There’s something in his gaze you’ve never quite seen before. You’re seeing a storm of emotions in them.

You see worry, the weight of responsibility already pressing heavily on his shoulders. You see vulnerability, something he rarely shows, he’s always composed under any circumstances. But beyond all that, there is something else. There’s awe, as though the ultrasound was a moment that truly humbled him. It’s as if he’s beginning to grasp the enormity of what’s happening, of the life growing inside you, and of the connection forming between the three of you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s just something special to see the little life forming inside you,” he admits.

“It is,” you offer him a little smile.

Jungkook looks so endearing right now, and you just want to hug him tight in your embrace.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” he then completely changes the conversation’s topic. “If you’re still okay with it, I’d like you to be at my place.”

This approaching full moon is making you nervous. It’s the first one you’ll experience as a pregnant lady, but it’s also probably going to be your first one where you’ll shift into a wolf shape. And that sounds pretty scary, especially since you’ve known about your werewolf heritage for like three days.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your heart suddenly beats faster. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to fade away around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek.  

Since he has appeared in your life, you’ve been going through lots of ups and downs. He has unveiled the werewolf world to you together with a part of yourself you never knew. It hasn’t been easy, but his presence feels grounding and reassuring. Deep down, you kind of feel that he’s never going to leave you. It’s an unspoken truth that you can’t explain, but somehow, you know.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more. But a small voice in the back of your mind whispers caution.

Today, you’ve experienced a lot of emotion, especially since you got to see your baby for the first time. You don’t want this kiss to happen because of the intensity of the moment. You want this first kiss to happen because it’s right, because you both want it with absolute clarity, not as a reaction to the whirlwind of feelings you’re navigating.  

His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting when you step back. Jungkook blinks, surprised. His eyes search yours, and you can see confusion and even a touch of disappointment in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he’s definitely too surprised.

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “Just send me the details.”

Before he can say anything, you jump in your car and slip away, your pulse still racing. As you’re driving, you try to steady your thoughts, pushing aside what almost happened. You’re not ready. Not just yet.

Following Jungkook’s address, your car slows down as you approach an imposing set of gates. Massive iron bars stand tall against the backdrop of the dense woods surrounding the estate, their presence as commanding as the man you’re here to meet.

You stop and glance around from your windshield before you leave the car. Beyond the gates, the large trees hide the driveway and the house. Your imagination starts to fill in the blanks. He’s the king, after all. His home must be grand, maybe even overwhelming.

On the wall beside the gate, a modern intercom system catches your eye. A silver button gleams in the sunlight, its simple design contrasting with the timeless feel of the gates. Your hand hovers near the button as you still look around you. You feel so small, standing here at the threshold of Jungkook’s world; one you’re not entirely sure to belong yet.

Taking a deep breath, you press the button. Barely seconds later, a voice is heard through the intercom.

“Hello,” you don’t recognize the voice. “How can I help you?”

Well, as the king, it wouldn’t surprise you that he has people working for him. He couldn’t possibly take care of his house by himself.

“Hello, I’m yn,” you say. “I was invited by Jung… Mister Jeon,” you answer.

“Hello, miss y/l/n, we were waiting for you,” the voice says. “Please follow the road to the mansion.”  

The impressive gates move to let you enter Jungkook’s estate. You instantly jump back into your car before starting the engine. Very carefully and slowly, you drive through the road, your eyes wandering around you. This is definitely a very impressive state, and there’s absolutely no doubt that the father of your child is wealthy.

After a little while, a sprawling, stone-clad mansion with dark and earthy tones comes into view. The architecture is both ancient and timeless, with arches windows, and carved details that hint at its long history. You can’t believe this is where Jungkook lives, and it also leaves you wondering if this is where your child is going to grow up. Well, most probably yes.

An impressive courtyard suddenly appears, and it’s surrounded by well-manicured gardens that lead into the untamed wilderness of the forest. It’s simply incredible.

You don’t really know where to stop your car, but a man dressed in black clothing runs in your direction. In order to not make him run more, you halt and roll down the window. He’s out of breath when he reaches you.

“Miss y/l/n,” he manages to say, and you offer him a little smile. “Please follow me with your car to the parking spot.”

The man starts walking again, and this time you follow his direction. Everything about this seems unreal. A month ago, you totally ignored werewolves existed; you were planning everything to welcome a baby. And today, you’re here. You’re about to enter the mansion of the Werewolf King, and the father of your baby.

Seconds later, the man indicates where you can park. Once you stop the engine, the man opens the door for you. Wow, this is a first time, but you deeply appreciate it even though it wasn’t necessary.

“Thanks,” you say as you step out.  

“You’re welcome,” he bows. “Would you have any luggage with you?” he asks.

For a moment, you take a look at the man. This is definitely a footman, Jungkook’s personal footman. Honestly, this feels like being in one of those Christmas movies where a random girl meets a prince or king and they fall in love. However, in this case, you don’t fall in love and you share a kid.

“Yes,” you answer. “But don’t worry, I’ll take it.”

The man shakes his head. “I got personal orders from Mister Jeon to take care of it,” he says. “And I would also never leave a pregnant woman carry her luggage.”

Seems like you don’t have much to say here. He’s following his boss’ orders, and based on what you see, Jungkook won’t allow any rule to be unfollowed. And you’ll also feel guilty if anything happens to this man because of you.

“Okay,” you admit in defeat. “Then, let me just open the trunk.”

The man follows you and instantly grabs your small luggage when the trunk is opened. It’s honestly super weird, and if everything will be like this tonight, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it. For sure, Jungkook undoubtedly grew up in the middle of all this, but this is new to you.

“Please follow me,” he repeats.

Now that you’re closer to the mansion, you get to see every detail. The front features a massive, double-door entrance made of dark and polished wood, with ornate iron handles. There are also some stone statues around the façade, giving an air of mystery and foreboding.

Jungkook is standing in front of the door, with a little smile on his face. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to see him right here. You thought that his footman would guide you to a living room, or a study where his boss would be sitting and waiting for you.   

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” Jungkook says to his footman.

The man bows before entering the mansion with your luggage in your hand. As you stand before Jungkook, you realize now that he’s a king. It feels instinctual to bow. Kings are meant to be respected and acknowledged for their status. Your knees slightly bend, and your head dips forward, but before you fully bow, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“No need,” he murmurs in your mind. “You don’t have to do it with me.”

His voice holds a quiet authority, but there’s also something else. Something unspoken, almost tender. For a moment, you hesitate. Bowing feels like the respectful, appropriate thing to do, but his response leaves you questioning the boundaries of his role in your life.

“Are you sure?”

His piercing and dark eyes meet yours, unwavering and resolute. “I am,” he answers, his tone leaving no room for argument even if he’s speaking through your mind.

The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch as if he’s reaching past your thoughts and speaking directly to the very core of you. And then, something changes in the air between you. It’s not just his words that stop you. It’s the way he’s looking at you. His expression is almost wounded.

Now, you wonder if you offended him, and the guilt begins to creep in. You’ve never met someone who held so much power yet dismissed the formalities that come with it.

For Jungkook, the title of king isn’t just about wearing a crown. It’s a mantle he bears with pride and responsibility. But when it comes to you, it’s as if he wants to strip away the formalities, the hierarchies, the distance. He doesn’t want you to see him as a king. He wants you to see him for who he truly is.

With you, everything is simply different. When you met him, you totally ignored that he was a king. Every time you met, you would treat him as anybody else, and honestly, it felt great. He wasn’t a king. He simply was Jungkook.  

“You’re different,” his voice softly brushes your mind again.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the tension in your body slowly fades away. You try to let go of the urge to bow even though it feels weird. His strong presence almost commands reverence, but he made it clear: he doesn’t want that from you.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Briefly, you close your eyes to savor the sweet contact of his skin against yours. This brings you back to yesterday when you were about to kiss. You regret how you walk away, especially since you desperately wanted to kiss him, but it’s better like this.

“Thank you,” you say as you open your eyes.

This sense of equality he’s extending to you warms your heart. Jungkook nods, his eyes softening before he takes a step back. This man is such a mystery, but it’s evident that he’s carrying so much on his shoulder. So much history, duty, and perhaps even loneliness that he tries to hide.

“Hi, yn,” he then says out loud as if you’re speaking for the first time.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you reply with a little smile growing on your face.   

“How was the road?” he gestures for you to come inside.

As the gentleman he has proven to be, he lets you walk inside his house first. You’re welcomed with a grand double staircase made of white marble, a marble that matches the floor beneath your feet. Along the walls of the stairs, there are hanging paintings of people. Probably Jungkook’s ancestors.

In the middle, a massive chandelier made of iron is hanging. The walls are impressively high, giving this space a grandiose aspect. This is for sure the kind of place you never thought of seeing in your life. Everything about this room screams ancient and power.

“The trip was fine,” you answer while your eyes get lost. “Although I thought at some point that I got lost,” you explain, your eyes now looking at the man behind you. “This is kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “As a werewolf king, it would be weird if I wasn’t surrounded by a forest.”

“It makes sense,” you admit. “But still, I was really about to call you with despair.”

Somehow, you can see in his eyes that he would have loved that. Saving the damsel in distress, but that’s not for you. There’s no need to save you, you can manage by yourself.

“You were about to call me?” he smirks with evident amusement in his voice. “I wouldn’t have minded. It’s not every day that I get to play the hero.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t get used to the idea. I can handle myself just fine,” you answer while crossing your arms with a small smile appearing on your face.

Jungkook tilts his head slightly while his smirk deepens. “Oh, I know,” his voice is softer now and his eyes are shining with admiration. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

At his words, you can feel the heat beneath your cheeks. You weren’t expecting him to compliment you while insinuating that he has a way too big estate, but you take the compliment.

Your child’s father proceeds then to make a little home tour. For sure, he doesn’t show you all the rooms as it is not needed. The first thing he shows you is the bedroom you’ll be staying in tonight. It’s located on the second floor, and the decoration is very simple. It’s a king-size bed with two nightstands and some furniture. Your luggage is already placed on a fancy bench.

A bit further on the second floor, there is the dining room. You’ll be eating here tonight before it gets dark. Apparently, it’s important to eat well and enough before taking a wolf shape. It helps to calm down the hunger, and it lowers the risk to kill someone or an animal.    

On the third floor, there is his magnificent bedroom. It’s extremely big, you’d say your entire apartment fits in the room. It’s also very well decorated; there are many pictures and paintings, and the room breaths ‘Jungkook’. However, the most impressive part is the large walk-in wardrobe. He has a remarkable quantity of clothes.

Then, he guides you outside to an outbuilding. It’s a very rustic, ancient, and a big one, but it looks cute even though it’s a bit far from the main house. However, what stands out more is the strong smell. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s something that definitely draws you.

“So, this place was built for the full moons,” he begins to explain. “This is where we shift, and it avoids destroying the prestigious house my ancestors built. It’s also closer to the woods.”

As you get closer, the scent grows stronger.

“My ancestors also placed something in the walls to attract us. When we shift the scent is even stronger than now, and it was made in case we get out of control. That way, we won’t be going to the main house. It was made to protect the humans living in our house,” you nod at his explanation.

Jungkook opens the door, letting you in first. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for a fridge.

“I don’t really use this room anymore,” he explains.

“Do you completely control your transformation?” you ask.

“Yep, that’s the perk of being an Alpha and a King,” he explains. “I’m not influenced by the moon’s phases anymore, but I’ll be with you tonight.”

“And for normal werewolves, at what moment of the full moon do they start changing?” you ask with curiosity.

You need to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming, there are so many unknowns. For sure, Jungkook will guide you every step of the way tonight, but you still want to know what is going to happen.

“As soon as the sun is down,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply.

For a moment, you just look at this empty room, your heart beating crazily in your chest. Seeing this makes you realize that maybe tonight, you’ll shift into a wolf. It’s a reminder of the heritage your parents hid from you all these years. Not only is this extremely scary, but it’s even more because you’ll have to do it without your parents; the people you loved the most.

“I’m scared, Jungkook,” you turn around to look at him. “So so scared,” you admit.

Jungkook comes closer, his right hand grabbing your left one. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you as much as possible.

“I understand,” his voice is soft. “This is all new to you, and you’re pushed right through the possibility of shifting into a wolf. I’m sorry this is all happening to you, and I wish things were different.”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here, standing next to you.”

You squeeze his hand while you whisper, “Thank you.” His support undeniably means a lot to you, you’re not sure you’d be able to go through this without him.

“If I could, I’d take your place in a heartbeat,” he continues. “I’d take all the pain and carry this burden if it meant you didn’t have to suffer. I wouldn’t hesitate, not even for a second.”

Without any hesitation, you throw yourself into his arms to hug him. Pressing a cheek against his chest, you close your eyes. His warmth seems to melt away all the tension in your body. Jungkook has been giving you the comfort of knowing that you don’t have to face everything alone. He’s taken a bit aback, but he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him.

His lips press a gentle kiss on your head while you remain in this position for a little while. His heartbeat appeases your soul, and it’s the only sound that you hear. In the midst of all this chaos, you’re grateful you found Jungkook.

After dinner, with Jungkook, you go to the outbuilding. But before doing so, he hands you a ‘special’ outfit. It looks like a sporty outfit; it’s made of a black top with black leggings. However, it’s made of a very stretchy fabric.

Jungkook explained that his family developed an outfit capable of resisting the transformation some years ago. Instead of getting ripped off, the fabric detaches when you shift. Once you get back to your human form, you can easily put it back. Apparently, there are magnets inside.

It’s honestly impressive, but, at the same time, not surprising. It’s the royal family that we’re talking about. They have the means to create something like that.

Jungkook’s a big fan of this fabric; all his clothes are made of it. Since he’s not influenced by the moon, he needs adaptive clothes for whenever he wants or needs to turn into a wolf. He also mentioned that it’s very comfortable, which definitely is the case.

“This is impressive,” you say as you’re walking.

The man walking next to you is wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with baggy grey pants. He looks incredibly fine, but you try to avoid looking at him. You don’t want to seem like you’re obsessed with him when you’ve known him for like a month.

“Yep, it is,” he smiles at you.

Jungkook is unable to look away, you look like a damn walking meal. He’s very much aware that he’s attracted to you, otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss you the other day. But the damn full moon always intensifies any physical attraction. His eyes even still glance at your fine ass. Thankfully, you don’t notice anything.

Once you reach the outbuilding, you put down all the things you brought with you. There are some snacks, two blankets, and extra clothing in case something happens. Jungkook doesn’t fully close the door behind you because if he does so, you’ll be stuck here and might destroy everything.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you sit down on the floor with Jungkook.

“How was your first transformation?” you ask with curiosity.

“It wasn’t great,” he admits. “It was the day after I turned ten, and I didn’t want to shift. And believe me, resisting it is painful as hell,” he confesses. “On top of that, I was really angry so when I became a wolf, I was out of control. My father didn’t manage to catch me up when I was out in the woods, but he found me when I turned back to human. I was crying like a baby, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing. My father later found out that I had attacked somebody, but thankfully, nothing too bad.”

This doesn’t really reassure you. If Jungkook didn’t have a great first experience, how would be yours? Will you kill someone? Will you also lose control? Also, you’re pregnant so it might be even worse.

“Being a wolf is something I didn’t embrace for a long time, especially since I knew I would eventually become a king,” he confesses. “So for a solid two years, every full moon was extremely painful. Once I accepted it, everything became easier, but I was very young.”

“So our child will also have their first transformation at ten?” you ask, and he nods.

By then, you might probably be able to help your child as you would have gone through ten years of full moons. But that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, it seems scary.

“With my blood, our child will live this wolf experience very differently than any other werewolf. They will be a king or queen so they must be stronger and better prepared than anybody else.”

This kid seems to have gotten the golden ticket to be ‘special’. Merely a month ago, you thought this child would be a totally normal kid, but then, Jungkook proved you wrong.

“The fact that I’m from a different pack won’t have any impact?” you ask.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “The royal blood is stronger than any other.”

 “So I’m basically just carrying your child,” you jokingly say. “It’s like I don’t contribute at all.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s in the mood to tease you back.

“Carrying our child,” he corrects with a smirk, leaning in slightly. “And trust me, your contribution is very… memorable,” he whispers in your ear.   

Shivers run down your spine, and the playful and cheerful mood has been replaced by something more heavy. By something hotter. And man, you crave so damn much to kiss this man. How will you survive this night with him by your side?

His face is way too close to yours, his eyes now locked on yours. His hot breath caresses your face, and his gaze is filled with lust. The two of you look at each other’s lips with so much desire.  The attraction you feel towards him seems to grow bigger and bigger every day. You’re sure you’ll end up giving in, but you haven’t changed your mind. This kiss needs to happen because you’re both sure about it.

You clear your throat before straightening up. Jungkook instantly retreats, sitting the way he was before getting too close.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you say.

In the blink of an eye, the sun goes down, and the moon lights up through the darkness of the night. At first, you don’t really feel anything, you’re even convinced you’ll easily navigate through this night. But very slowly, the pain intensifies as your bones and muscles realign into a form they never took before. Everything inside you is moving. Everything inside you is being torn apart.  It feels like someone is pulling you in two different directions. You’ve never experienced this kind of pain.  

“Jungkook,” you almost scream as the bones of your right arm move. “Help me.”

Tears run down your face, and Jungkook cups your face in his hands. His thumbs clean the tears on your cheeks. He’s on his knees just like you so he can be at your level. It’s impossible for you to be standing or sitting because of all the things changing in your body right now.

His eyes are full of fear and pain as he obviously can’t do anything but watch you go through this. Obviously, he can understand the intensity of the pain you feel, but he can’t take the pain away. He has healing powers, but they don’t work for this kind of scenario.   

“I’m so scared.”

“I know,” he answers. “Don’t fight it, just embrace the pain. Scream at every moving bone. Scream when your muscles tear. But don’t hold anything back.”

You nod, your eyes don’t leave his as they seem to anchor you in some kind of way.

“You can do this,” he encourages you. “You’re so fucking strong.”

The next couple of minutes that feel like hours, you spend them screaming with pain. You understand now why the first full moon is painful. It’s the first time that your body adapts to your wolf shape. A wolf and a human are very much different.   

“You’re doing so great, yn,” his thumbs caress your cheeks. “You’re doing so well,” he repeats.

Suddenly, Jungkook sees your eyes becoming blue, and he mimics you, his eyes now turning red. The man in front of you decides to turn at the same pace so you don’t feel alone in this. For sure, it’s not quite the same, but at least, by the time, you’re fully a wolf, he’ll be as well.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Then, out of the blue, you feel the baby moving, and your hand instantly goes to your stomach. Your ears try to find the sound of his heartbeat, but you don’t find it.

“Something’s wrong?” Jungkook is looking at you with worry.

“The baby,” you simply answer, and Jungkook frowns. “I don’t hear the heartbeat.”

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says. “I hear it.”

“But I don’t,” you start crying.

Jungkook begins imitating the baby’s heartbeat to help you find it. Following his voice, you try to find the heartbeat, but you can’t. You never stop trying because right now, that’s what you need. You need to ensure your baby’s safety. This is already very painful and if on top of that, you lose your baby, it’ll be the end of you.

Swiftly, the heartbeat echoes in your ears which appeases your soul instantly. Right there, you notice the claws appearing in your hands. It’s impressive to see it coming from your body. It feels unreal. Your body is changing, transforming into something you don’t know. At the same time, you can sense his hands changing against your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt, but his skin texture is different.

After that, your teeth and ears change as well. Jungkook’s hands leave your face to give you room while you go through this transformation. And for a while, you remain like that, stuck in between your human and wolf shapes. However, the pain doesn’t fade away. It’s still there, but nothing has changed. Jungkook starts to pick up the despair in your eyes. You’re panicking.

“Yn,” he lifts your chin to make you look at him.

His red wolfy eyes meet your blue ones.

“I’m a failure, Jungkook,” you whisper.

Your cheeks are ravaged by the tears that have been running down your face since the beginning. It’s such a heartbreaking vision.

“I can’t even fully turn into a wolf.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he halts you before you add anything else. “Don’t say that. You’re far from being a failure.”

His fingers brush your chin with tenderness which soothes you.

“You’re fucking brave, yn,” he continues. “You tragically lost your parents, you’ve recently found out about you and this heritage, and since you’re ten, you’ve been navigating life in the most heartbreaking way,” he reassures you. “You’re doing way better than a lot of us, and we had at least ten years to prepare.”

His red eyes don’t ever look away from you. Even though they have a wolf aspect, you can see how soft his expression is.

“It’s okay to be scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

You nod with tears still running down your face.

“Just let this happen, don’t fight it,” his voice is calm. “Take a deep breath and don’t focus on the pain.”

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and you try to focus on something other than the pain. Jungkook’s calm heartbeat invades your senses, and you decide to use it as an anchor. You decide to focus on it to forget about the pain.

Slowly, you feel your body complete the shift. Fur spreads over your skin, your hands become paws, and the clothes covering your body are now on the floor. The world around you now feels vivid and alive.

Your vision is totally different, and your senses are heightened. Everything seems to stimulate you, but somehow, you still manage to not react to everything.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks.

“The pain is completely gone,” you telepathically say.  

Even if you deeply desire to speak, in this shape, you can’t say much except growl. However, you can still have a conversation with him through your thoughts. It’s honestly quite a useful.  

“And everything feels different, but it’s fine so far,” you add.

He tilts his head, slightly confused.

“Okay, this is new,” he says. “Usually, people leave their human side when they turn,” he informs you. “But it’s good if you still have your human side while being a wolf.”

Jungkook shifts into his wolf form, and you’re blown away. A large wolf has now replaced the man standing in front of you. He’s even more impressive as a wolf than as a human. His stature is intimidating yet majestic, exuding both dominance and grace.

His fur is a blend of silvery grey and white, making his red eyes stand out a lot. His eye color adds an intense energy to his appearance, signifying his role as the king and the immense power he holds.

“Like what you see?” his voice echoes in your mind.

Even though you don’t have a human aspect anymore, you still feel your face get hot. You look away with shyness.

“You’re so majestic,” you admit.

“I’m supposed to be the king,” he answers while his muzzle appears in front of you. “I know I have a more imposing stature as a wolf.”

This is all so crazy. Never in a billion years would have you thought this was going to happen. You’ve turned into a wolf with a guy that is a werewolf king. On top of that, you’re calmly speaking with a wolf as if it’s the most normal thing. 

“What color is my fur?” you ask with curiosity.

“It’s a deep dark brown,” he says while his eyes glance at you. “Very pretty color.”

Is this man going to make you blush all night long?

“Thanks,” your eyes don’t look away this time.  

Jungkook now shows you how to walk, move, and adjust to your new body. Every step feels foreign, it feels like you’re learning how to walk again. As you’re walking towards the door, you have this feeling that you’re walking like an injured dog. But it’s your first time, you can’t be harsh with yourself.

The two of you head towards the door that opens to the woods. At first, you stumble slightly because your legs feel strange. But slowly, you realize that you’re walking. Really walking. The ground under your paws feels solid, reassuring. The more you move, the more natural it becomes.

As you walk towards the forest, you start to gain confidence, and it makes you feel powerful and free. It’s not easy to describe, a mix of awe and exhilaration that courses through your veins. Never in your life have you felt this way. It’s like this new form isn’t just a part of you—it’s always been waiting for you to claim it.

Your heart beats faster, not with fear, but with an exciting sense of possibility. You glance at Jungkook, whose red eyes shine under the moonlight. He senses your transformation is more than just physical. He gives you an encouraging look before he runs, his sleek sliver-and-white fur shining under the moon.

Jungkook keeps looking back at you to make sure you’re following him. However, you take your time because you want to adjust to this new reality. Slowly, you begin to move, your steps becoming steadier with each passing second.  

As you enter the depths of the forest, you realize how deeper everything feels around you. It’s like you’re discovering for the first time what it feels like to be walking in the woods. The earthy scent of the moss and leaves fills your nostrils like never before. You feel every blade of grass under your paws, and the night wind brushes through your fur, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

Over your head, the full moon glows in the dark, and its energy courses through you and heightens every sensation. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way.

You push forward, your paws digging into the earth as you pick up speed. Jungkook slows down, waiting for you to catch up. His glowing red eyes are filled with pride and encouragement, and he swears he has never seen something as beautiful. Watching you discover everything he has taken for granted is heartwarming.

When you finally reach him, you stand next to him for a moment before you run past him. He’s definitely surprised, and soon, he’s running beside you. For the first time, you don’t struggle to keep up. You’re racing with him, your movements fluid and sure. The two of you snake through the trees, your bodies moving as though they’re part of the forest. You’ve never felt so alive, so connected to the world around you.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace beside you, and his presence grounds you in this surreal moment. You really can’t describe the feeling of having the wind rushing through your fur as you run. Eventually, you end up slowing to a stop in a clearing bathed in moonlight. Your breathing is heavy, but your heart has never felt this light before.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice echoing in your mind: “You did it.”

You look at the father of your child and realize this is so much more than just a transformation. It’s a bond, a shared experience you’ll for sure never forget. As overwhelming as it’s all been, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

This is your new reality, and it surprisingly feels like home.

“I did it,” you think to yourself, but Jungkook hears it.

The wolf next to you has never felt so much pride over someone turning into a wolf. He was present when his younger siblings made their first steps as wolves, and even though he was very proud of them, with you, it’s completely different. And he wonders if he will feel even more pride once your baby shifts for the first time.

For the rest of the night, you just walk through the woods, flirting with the city’s limits. Jungkook’s own forest seems to know no end, but it definitely gives you all the space you need to freely run. Surprisingly, you don’t meet any other wolf, but you don’t mind. You’re just too thrilled to discover this new body.

“It’s time to go back,” Jungkook informs you as he notices the darkness of the night leaving room for the sun’s light.

The father of your child guides you back to his outbuilding. Since you have no clue where you are, you simply follow him. Very quickly, you reach the large space. This time around, Jungkook closes the door once you’re both inside.

“So,” he stands in front of you. “To shift back to your human form is easier, but it’s more emotionally draining,” he explains. “It’s not painful, but it’ll take a lot of energy from you.”

You nod, it’s logical that it also contains its fair share of difficulty. Now, you just need to know how to go back to your human form.

“What do I need to do?” you ask.

“You need to set free the wolf inside you,” he tells you. “And visualize yourself as human.”

Well, seems easier said than done. How do you even set the wolf free? You’re definitely not very very sure how you should approach this, but you’ll try.

You close your eyes, but all you can think of is how you felt tonight. This has been by far one of the best experiences of your life. It was painful—you won’t hide it, but the aftermath made it worth it. You’d go through that pain again just to be able to walk so freely.

For a moment, it’s all you can think about, and it doesn’t help to shift you back into your ‘normal’ self. Then, you open your eyes and watch Jungkook.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say.

The impressive wolf standing in front of you seems to think. He doesn’t really know what to tell you, he’s been able to shift so easily for over fifteen years. It’s easy to guide someone through the pain, but when there isn’t any, he simply doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe try to think of someone you cherish, or a good memory, or at least, something that makes you happy.”

For the second time, you close your eyes. Your mind runs through all the positive events you lived, and one stands out from all of them. It’s a memory with your dad.    

When you were little, you’d love to go to the shopping street downtown. There were always tons of people—something deeply annoying—, but you’d love to run through every store window to look inside. Your father would go to some of them to buy ‘grown-up’ things. You don’t remember what it was exactly because you didn’t really care back then. All you wanted was to see everything the store had.

At the end, there would be a pretty big café. If you’d behave well, you had the right to eat a pastry with orange juice. Obviously, you’d always make sure to wear your best behavior because the reward was worth it. For the pastry, you’d always go for a croissant with chocolate in it. Every time, you’d hope that the café would have this croissant. If not, you’d take whatever there was.

Your father would always take an espresso with a cheese toast. The smell of his coffee would always comfort you. Even right now, you can still smell it, and it has the same comforting effect. Those are the most precious souvenirs you have with your father.

After his passing, you never went back to that café. Felix tried to bring you there, but you’d refuse. You didn’t want to replace the souvenirs with your father. This café was your dad’s and yours, nobody else's. A little tear runs down your face as you remember that you’ll never be able to create new memories with him in that special place.

Without realizing it, you slowly shift back into your human form. When you realize it, you slowly open your eyes while standing up. Jungkook is still a wolf, but in a matter of seconds, he’s back to being a human.

Your eyes widen when you’re graced with a naked Jungkook, and you instinctively put your hands in front of your eyes. You weren’t really expecting this, and especially, to see this man naked any time soon. He chuckles, but then, it hits you— you’re naked as well.

“Shit,” you mumble.

Then, his warm hands wrap a blanket around you. You uncover your eyes to look back again at the werewolf king. He’s still very much bare, and you try to avoid staring below his chest. It feels totally inappropriate.

“Thanks,” you offer him a little smile.

To your surprise, his right arm is fully covered in tattoos. Honestly, you would have never imagined him with body art. He doesn’t give the type; perhaps it’s because he’s a king. Actually, you’ve never pictured any king adorned with such markings. And it truly makes him look a million times hotter.

Let’s not even talk about his toned figure…

Your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his body. His squared and broad shoulders look like they were carved from stone, and his muscular torso is just as well mesmerizing. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath is hypnotic, and for a moment, you can almost feel the raw power lying beneath his skin.

Your eyes linger longer than they should, and you suddenly find it hard to meet his eyes again. You can’t deny it—his presence is utterly magnetic, and it stirs something deep within you. 

Suddenly, you’re violently hit by the fatigue. You didn’t see that coming, but after this amazing night, it’s normal.

Jungkook grabs the clothes on the floor, and you turn around so you don’t stare any longer at him—or should you say drool over him. He looks way too good for his own good. While looking at the wall facing you, you yawn and rub your eyes. You really need to sleep now.

“You’re tired?” Jungkook asks.

“Very,” you answer.

The man appears in front of you, fully dressed with a smile on his face. His cute face contrasts a lot with his very muscular body.

“Let me take you back home,” he says when he realizes just how tired you truly are.   And before you even know it, you’re in his arms while he carries you to his mansion.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

of humans and soulmates [TEASER]

a/n: we all knew i was gonna tease it lets be honest (• ε •) -not proofread, there be spelling errors/inconsistencies ahead-

teaser w.count - 900+ words [current full w.count: 14k] genre: dragon emperor!zhongli, human servant!y/n, royal au, soulmate/dragon mate au, different kingdoms, angst, slow burn but also kinda not really?, hidden identities original teaser announcement

“Li!” You call out, jogging up to his side. The stranger who isn’t a stranger turns, and you assume he smiles at you. You can’t tell. You can’t see him.

Coming to stand at his front his hand moves to brush against your cheek. He does this offer so he can ‘see’ what expression you're making. Today he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek and can feel you smile. 

“Good evening, my dear.” 

This is Li. Your soulmate. The soulmate you can’t even see. That’s how it works- at least for you both. 

You were born with a mark on your back. Golden lines that never touch and form the shape of a diamond imprinted on your left shoulder blade. It was because of this mark you were never loved by your father or your half-sister. 

Abandoned to be a mere servant of the palace as a maid and nothing more. You’ve never once acted the part of your kingdom’s first born princess; in fact, they don’t even know you exist. Sometimes, it feels like the only good thing you got out of being unrecognized is the fact you were allowed to carry your mother’s maiden name and not the royal families. 

According to the rest of peoples in your kingdom, the first princess was still born and the mother mourned so deeply she took her own life. Thus the king remarried two years later and had a child with the late second-queen. 

Sometimes you wish you were accepted despite your ‘flaw’, yearning for familiar love. It never lingers because if you had been brought up any other way than this one, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You could have treated Li like a stranger you loathed. You don’t. You love this man whose face you have never seen. 

The way your soulmarks work is simple yet complicated. You both can meet in dreams just like this. The first time you both met was when you were 15 and to stay you were beyond spooked is an understatement. You actually woke yourself up by screaming in pure shock. He snickered at you the second time you met in a dream. 

Li is simply a shadowed figure to your eyes. You appear the same to him, a simple shadow in the shape of a human. Neither one of you will know what the other looks like until you see one another. It’s almost cruel, since you’ll probably be trapped inside this castle until you're old and grey and when you finally die, you’ll be lucky to be buried in the cemetery. You may never know what he looks like or ever get to meet him. It's tragic. 

That doesn’t mean you know nothing about your soulmate. You know plenty. 

For starters, his name isn’t actually Li, but that’s what he’s asked you to call him. He says he can’t say his name for reasons that are hard to explain. You understand though. He’s tall with long hair he usually ties low at the back of his head during the day. 

He isn’t a human, but a dragon (when he told you that, you begged to touch his ears since you’ve heard they’re pointed- he let you). However the horns you can make out the silhouette of that separate, branch off, and stretch above him you leave alone. 

He prefers drinking tea over liquor and he prefers it black- but he does fancy a particular wine that’s often made in his homeland. His kingdom has two names- one is pronounced in dragonic tongue and the other is much easier for humans to articulate. You still haven’t learned what is it though since he doesn’t often speak of home. 

He can’t stand seafood. 

Apparently he’s actually over 500 hundred years old- and when he first got his mark that matched yours- it was on the day you spooked yourself awake for the first time at 15 years old. It’s been many years since then. 

You’ve traced his face with your fingers before, hoping to get a mental feel for how he appears. His features are defined and he feels handsome, but unfortunately for you- you still couldn’t create a whole image of him in your head. You don’t know if it’s arrogance, but he also claims that others say he is pleasing to look at. You choose to believe him. 

Li loves the smell of flowers. Where he lives in the kingdom of dragons- with that dragonic name you have quite the struggle pronouncing since the language is tough on the tongue- there’s a special flower that grows spontaneously on cliffsides. The plant that blooms in three, purple stalks is called violetgrass and while every flower has its own uniqueness and beauty, he tends to favor the blue bell blooms that hang downwards. 

He was kind and patient with you. Li often speaks freely and listens attentively. Despite claiming to have a short temper some days, he’s never once lost it. He claims your presence has a calming effect on him, and should the day ever come when he raises his voice towards you, you are free to put him in his place. You can’t imagine either happening. 

While you are soulmates, Li has also taken time before to explain that additionally on his end, you are considered his dragonic mate despite remaining human. He speaks of you as if you hold his very soul in your palms and it always makes you warm. 

“You’re a bit late to fall asleep tonight,” he points out. Taking your hand in his, he helps ease you onto the ground and let your legs dangle over the edge of the cliffside. He joins you once you’ve settled, never letting himself become comfortable first.

a/n pt.2: if the whole soulmate thing doesn't make sense, i swear to god i'll try and explain it later when the m.draft is finished hngghhh. it makes sense in my heaD OKAy

[hedwig221b]

Have you ever read “You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would” by alice9?

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51306448) it’s an absolute favourite of mine and I wonder whether you know any fics similar to it?

Also recommended by @avabean24 ❤

It's been 84 years, and I didn't really get what recs you wanted, bc this wonderful fic has so many tropes. I focused on secret relationship, so here we go, I guess?

You would kill for this, just a little bit, you would by alice9

The Hales didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either. And for fifteen years he made it a point to have as little interaction with them as possible. It comes as a shock then, when Derek Hale turns up at his door one night, screaming baby in his arms, asking for help.

Operation Girl Scout Cookies by katsu_kiri

After a minute Derek looks back up, his lips puckering in thought, “so…we just…see each other in secret. Then in November after local elections we can see each other for real?” “We are seeing each other for real! It’s just us who know about it for the first few months,” Stiles corrects. “Okay.” Stiles holds his breath, eyes widening, “okay as in okay let’s secretly date?” “Yes,” Derek adds his tone a little less bitter as if he is just now warming up to the idea. “Awsome! Holy shit, dude we’re mates,” Stiles beams. Or the one where both Talia and John are running for mayor of Beacon Hills and their sons end up being mates. Enter a secret relationship, a dash of smut, and a way too involved Laura Hale.

Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Pry Him From My Cold Dead Fingers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"So they’re coming for our Emissary because they lost theirs?” Derek asked, somewhat angrily. “It would appear. The McCall-Hale Pack’s reputation precedes itself.” “Don’t worry,” Scott said, “we won’t let them touch you.” Deaton turned to him, offering a private smile before inclining his head slightly. “Very comforting, Scott, thank you. But,” he looked between them, “I’m not the Emissary they’re coming after.” Derek frowned and shared a look with Scott, who looked as confused as he did. “What do you mean?” Scott asked. “What other Emissary is there?”

Operation Get Derek Laid by Kikileduc

There's pining, misunderstandings, confusion, a little jealousy… Stiles and Derek have a nice thing, no one knows, yet. The issue is, the pack wants their alpha to get lucky at the werewolf seminar, and well Stiles thinks Derek wants that too…

Mismatched Match by LadyDrace

Getting to date hot senior jock Derek Hale should be cause for shouting from the rooftops, frankly, but life is a little more complicated than that. Until it isn't.

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by standinginanicedress

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb. Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn't even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record. The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great. Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin' Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again. Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

Until Sunrise

"You told me I would have time,” Derek said, simmering with anger. “You promised to leave the choice to me.” “The court is starting to talk,” said Peter. “We do not have a stellar reputation as it is, and your ventures into the world of simple pleasures do not go unnoticed. You do not care, of course. But you are, pardon me, too loud for it to remain discreet.” “You think if I were to have a wife, I would stop fucking?” Peter cringed his nose. “No. It would make you a proper, civilized man. You are getting too old, nephew.” “Fine. But I’ll choose.” “No,” Peter smiled. “I shall choose.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Peter did not let him. “We both know you will continue to fuck whomever you want. None of us will be able to stop you. Let me have a pick of a proper spouse to placate the court. That’s all I ask.”

[masterlist link]

[lyn31]

My baby serena is truly the cutest 🥹 and a jealous daddy zayne! Now imagine if serena announced that she wants to marry uncle greyson 🤣 all hell will break lose and zayne is ready to have a meltdown while mc is just cackling in the back enjoying the drama and she definitely would’ve to console a very upset zayne after 🤣

Right??? Gosh she doesn't know the power she weilded yet ahahahahaha Oh no, I can imagine it now ahahahahaha ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emergency Matchmaker

Summary

When a cartoon wedding sparks Serena’s curiosity, an innocent question spirals into a surprise proposal—sending Zayne into full dad-mode panic over her choice of future groom: Greyson.

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader Pure fluff and silly. I was not expecting to write this actually, I was just like "oh this is cute, let me write down their dialogue, make it a cute little drabble." Big mistake. Now it's a one shot instead ahahahaha Well big mistake or a blessing? 😂 This is quite random but hopefully y'all enjoy it!

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Serena is stacking her blocks in that careful, concentrated way of hers, half-distracted by the cartoon playing on the TV. Every so often, she glances at the screen and then at you, pointing at something that just happened, waiting for your commentary. You give her simple answers—most of it is about friendship and kindness, nothing too complicated.

But then, the cartoon shifts into a dramatic wedding scene, complete with sparkly outfits and a flower arch. The characters are declaring their love, holding hands as music swells.

Serena looks at you again, this time with a question already forming behind her eyes.

You smile. “That’s a marriage ceremony,” you explain gently, shifting closer to sit beside her. “It’s one of the ways people show they love each other and want to spend their whole lives together.”

She blinks slowly, absorbing the idea.

“Like how Mommy and Daddy got married. And Aunty Rose and Uncle Caleb too.”

She tilts her head. “Do I need to get married too?”

“Only if you want to, sweetie. You don’t have to. There’s lots of ways to tell someone you love them and want to stay with them forever.”

Serena nods thoughtfully. As she stacks her blocks, she starts asking more general questions about marriage. Then, after a while, she starts listing things off like she’s building a checklist for her future.

“So... you marry someone you want to spend more time with?”

“Yes.”

“They’re usually kind or cool so you want to know them better?”

“Yes?”

“You only do it if you want to. And if you or the other person asks.”

“...Yes,” you say again, smiling, while her question is not wrong but it's not quite right either.

She frowns, deep in thought. “Do I have to marry Mommy and Daddy?”

You chuckle. “No, baby. We’re already family. One of the things marriage does is make you family with someone. But you’re already ours.”

Something about that answer seems to click in her head. She nods solemnly, then returns to her blocks. A moment later, Zayne steps into the room, tea mug in hand, the scent of jasmine following him as he lowers himself onto the sofa.

He’s just taken his first sip when Serena perks up and declares, “I’ll ask Uncle Greyson to marry me then!”

Zayne freezes mid-sip. If he had been drinking just a second longer, you’re sure the tea would’ve gone flying. He lowers the mug and coughs once.

“You’re too young for that, sweetheart,” he says, voice as calm as ever, though the slight wideness in his eyes betrays him.

Serena just blinks at him, gives a little shrug, and turns back to her blocks as if it’s no big deal. Just a passing thought. Zayne turns his gaze to you slowly, wordlessly, What does that even mean?

You burst out laughing.

Serena doesn’t even flinch. By now, your sudden laughter doesn’t faze her.

Meanwhile, Zayne is pulling his phone out of his pocket, frowning slightly as he unlocks it.

You watch him, still smiling. “Are you... calling someone?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but as he lifts the phone to his ear, he glances at you with that same neutral expression. “We need to find you a wife,” he says into the phone, like he’s making a very rational decision.

You blink. You can’t hear the other side, but you can sense the confusion through the static silence.

Then it hits you.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, watching your very serious husband continue his very serious call.

“Don’t you always complain about it?” Zayne adds. “This is a good time.”

You shake your head in disbelief, biting your lip to keep from laughing again. “No—but if you’re busy, I can call Caleb for you instead. Listen—”

That’s your cue. You pluck the phone from his hand before things get worse, as much as you’d love to see him rope Caleb into this very serious plan, you’d rather not bother Greyson too much. Zayne’s brows furrow as he watches you place the phone to your ear—one hand on your waist, the other curled loosely around your wrist.

“Hey, Greyson, sorry,” you say, still smiling. “Just a mild dad panic moment, no big deal.”

“Huh?” Greyson sounds genuinely baffled. “What did I do?”

“Oh, nothing. Serena just announced she wants to marry you, that’s all.”

There’s a beat before Greyson laughs, genuinely amused.

Zayne scowls. His arm slips around your waist, tugging you closer as he glances at Serena—still stacking her blocks like the future of the universe depends on it.

“That’s hilarious,” Greyson says through the speaker.

“It really is,” you reply, running your fingers through Zayne’s hair, which only makes him pout. Well, not really, but close enough.

“Anyway, sorry for the surprise proposal. Have a good day, okay?” You exchange a few quick goodbyes before handing the phone back to Zayne.

He takes it with visible reluctance, muttering, “I was handling it.”

“Of course you were, darling,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head before settling beside him on the couch.

He shifts slightly and then leans in, resting his head against your neck. You laugh softly, fingers carding through his hair again.

“It’s still a long way off,” you whisper, “but we’ll be fine.”

He just hums. Serena hums too, softly mimicking the tune from her cartoon, and the room settles into that peaceful rhythm that belongs only to your little family.

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Notes

You know the drill at this point 😂 Just me getting carried away like usual. Alright! Starting now, no more distraction! 🫡😂

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨

Although if you missed the Newlyweds series! Here How it all happen And also the Pregnancy series, starting with Try For Baby

[kitty384]

He Knew Before I Did

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: During a simple recon mission, you suddenly get sick—and Bucky is the first to realize what it might mean. You’re pregnant. And somehow, he knew before you did.

Warnings: Nausea/vomiting, implied pregnancy, soft emotional support, fluff, established relationship

The mission wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

Simple recon. No combat. No one even fired a shot. We were in and out in under twenty minutes, and the van ride home was smooth and quiet.

So why the hell was I sweating through my suit, stomach twisting, mouth dry, eyes locked on the floor like I was going to die right then and there?

“Y/N?” Sam asked from across the van. “You look kinda pale. You okay?”

I nodded too fast. “Yeah. Just… hot.”

That wasn’t a lie. But it also wasn’t the whole truth.

Something felt off.

Wrong.

Too tight in my ribs. Too loud in my ears. Too unsteady in my body.

And then the nausea rolled in like a freight train.

My hand slapped over my mouth. I barely managed to scramble to the van door before I threw up.

Hard.

The world blurred. Everything spun. I leaned against the side of the van, gripping the edge like it could keep me upright, trying to catch my breath.

“Y/N!”

Boots hit the pavement. A hand touched my back, firm but careful. Gloved fingers pulled my hair away from my face.

I didn’t have to look to know it was Bucky.

Of course it was Bucky.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and serious—but not panicked.

“I—I don’t know,” I croaked.

He didn’t ask more questions. Just rubbed slow circles on my back and waited.

When I finally stood upright, dizzy and mortified, I saw the way he was looking at me.

Not confused.

Not surprised.

But like something had just clicked.

“Buck,” I mumbled, wiping my mouth, “please don’t say it.”

He tilted his head. “Say what?”

“You know what.”

He hesitated.

Then gave me that look—the one that was equal parts “I love you” and “I’m worried out of my mind and trying not to freak out.”

“Have you… taken a test lately?”

I blinked at him.

A test?

Oh.

Oh.

I froze.

“I mean—no,” I said quickly. “But I—I don’t think—”

Bucky gently took my hand, grounding me. “Y/N. It would explain a lot.”

I started doing the math.

The weird cravings. The mood swings. The late period I’d blamed on stress. The way he’d been eyeing me for the last two weeks like he knew something I didn’t.

“Holy crap,” I whispered.

Bucky didn’t smile. Not yet. But his eyes softened.

“We’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way back,” he said. “Just in case.”

The second we got home, I locked myself in the bathroom.

Bucky didn’t knock. Didn’t push. Just sat outside the door like he had a thousand times before.

I took the test with shaking hands.

Set it on the counter.

Waited.

And when the time passed, I looked.

Two lines.

Clear.

Positive.

I sat on the floor, the test clutched in my hand, suddenly crying and laughing at the same time.

Then I opened the door.

Bucky stood up instantly.

One look at my face and he knew.

I held out the test, voice shaking. “I think we’re gonna have a baby.”

His hands hovered, like he didn’t want to grab me too fast. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Are you?”

That’s when the smile broke across his face.

Gentle. Overwhelmed. Bright.

“I knew it,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “I knew the second you threw up.”

I laughed into his chest. “That’s not very romantic.”

“It is to me.”

We didn’t tell anyone that day.

We just laid in bed, curled together under soft blankets, my hand resting over my belly while his hand covered mine.

We didn’t speak much.

But we didn’t need to.

We were building something now—something brand new.

And he knew before I did.

Because of course he did.

Because he always does.

Masterlist

Request

[cherriies-snake]

But I like it!! ⋆˚꩜｡

PAIRING : Sam Monroe x Curly/Wayvy!reader

WORDS : 1.1 k.

WARNINGS : Reader insecure about her hair.

“Sunshine, do you believe in love at first curl? cause I’m hooked. Now, Sam truly believes that angels have curly hair."

Sam Monroe is your best friend, so it was no surprise that he was always at your house. Clearly, today wasn't the exception. You both had developed a strong bond since you had been friends since preschool.

Who would have thought that sharing half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the kid who forgot his lunch would be a great way to start a wonderful and unbreakable friendship?

Obviously, if you ask Sam, he wouldn't have any problem with breaking the friendship, you know, in that way.

You had just gotten out of the shower, so you were sitting at the vanity in your room, about to struggle to make your hair look decent for once in your life, without looking like one of those clowns that wear a giant rainbow wig.

All the products you always used to define your hair were scattered across the surface of the vanity, brushes, creams, mousse, gel, and even serum. All the products were open and kind of spilling from use since everything always ended up in a sticky mess, and you were too lazy to clean it up.

"Why do you have so much stuff for your hair? Looks like you're scared of going bald."

Sam asked with a smug smile from the comfort of your bed, which was something adorable to watch from your perspective because his black clothes made a huge contrast with your pastel colored sheets, not to mention your army of stuffed animals.

(Where there was also a cute Rilakkuma plushie that Sam had given you for your birthday.)

"You're also at a good age to avoid the receding hairline you might inherit."

You replied with the same sarcasm he always used with you, and you could see how his smug expression turned into a look of pure horror and panic as he dramatically ran his hands through his hair, looking for any possible bald spot.

"Don't ever mention that shit again, I don't want to have nightmares about bald patches on my head."

Hearing his comment, you couldn't help but laugh out loud. Oh, you would definitely remind him about it for the rest of his life.

"There are other alternatives, don't worry, you can always wear a wig, Sammy!"

He immediately rolled his eyes in response as he sat on the edge of your bed to watch better what you were doing.

"But seriously, what’s all that crap for? I never see you using all that."

He asked curiously from his new position.

He was right, you almost never defined your hair unless it was for an important occasion or something like that because you found your curls very annoying to manage.

This time was no different because Sam had told you that tomorrow both of you were going to take a walk on the beach and eat an ice cream, so you wanted your hair to look nice and not like you had just woken up.

Usually, you always styled your hair somehow without leaving it loose, that’s why you always ended up with a messy bun on your head and some loose strands, because you had the idea that when you wore your hair down, you looked like a walking bird’s nest.

"They're to define my curls."

You explained in simple words so he could understand, but you failed because Sam had a completely confused face.

"I mean, all these things help my hair look nice."

He simply nodded when he understood your point.

You started to divide your hair into small sections with clips, then you applied cream and gel and used the brush in a way that your curls formed naturally.

"Why do you almost never wear your hair down? Your messy buns don't look bad, but your loose curls are prettier."

Sam broke the silence with that comment, and he could feel how his ears and entire face turned red and heated instantly.

"Thanks Sam, that was something sweet to hear. The truth is, I don’t think I’ve fully accepted my hair yet, you know?"

Your relationship with your hair had always been complicated because you were coming out of a curl transition after years of chemical straightening in a desperate attempt to boost your self-esteem, but that just destroyed your hair.

However, now you were at an intermediate point about how you felt about your curls. It was more of a love-hate relationship.

It didn't help either that during those years, you had dated a boy that, under your spell of being in love, you thought was the one.

But Sam had never liked him for various reasons, but you always thought he was just being dramatic and jealous because you were spending less time with him.

But when your curls started showing again, that boy began to grow distant little by little and finally stopped talking to you, but not before saying a hurtful comment that stayed burned in your memory:

"You looked cleaner and prettier with straight hair, now it's like I'm dating a damn bird's nest."

When you told Sam what he said, it was like a pressure cooker exploded, his blood boiled completely. How could someone dare say such a thing to HIS GIRL? Okay, you weren't his yet, but you would be.

You literally had to stop him and beg him not to go and punch that guy.

"If you ask me, I like your hair the way it is. I mean, you basically look like an angel fallen from heaven."

Hearing his words, your cheeks instantly turned a deep crimson pink. Whenever Sam gave you a compliment, you could feel little butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You always tried to convince yourself it was because you weren't used to the compliments he gave you.

But deep down, you knew it was because feelings for him had bloomed inside your heart.

You just gave him a warm, submissive look because, as always, words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

You both stayed in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking at each other. Words weren't necessary at that moment, your gazes were more than enough to speak for both.

You slightly lowered your gaze to his lips they looked fluffy like a freshly sponge cake and pink like melting cotton candy, so fucking kissable. You thought.

And as if Sam could read your desires, finally leaving his fears behind, he lunged at you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to yours in a soft and warm kiss.

The kiss was full of passion, but without becoming sexual, it was simply your souls melting together in a kiss you both had been waiting for a long time.

After slowly pulling apart, gasping slightly for air, your foreheads rested together, and you both laughed warmly.

"I'm crazy about you, dumbass."

Sam finally said with a slightly nervous laugh.

"Me too, Sammy."

Who would have thought, after ignoring and bottling up the feelings you had developed for each other over the years, you finally confessed, starting a new stage together.

OMG, I FINALLY REACHED THE 1000 WORDS!!! CONGRATS TO ME 🥹🫶🏻

All of u are invited to a party 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

I love Sam with all my fucking heart man <3

TAGLIST: @anakinstwinklebunny @bxbyysstuff @sinisterminist3r

[starrylanex]

bf!dean having to see reader take one for the team and flirt/make themselves bait for a pervy witness during a mission. I'm just wanting to see how hard it would be for him to restrain himself from stepping in or him having to step in if things get out of hand 🤍

Thank you Pookie 😘

COST OF THE JOB, D. WINCHESTER

wordcount: 1,2k; warnings: a creepy guy, readers uncomfortable but dean comes in and saves the day.

an: hi angels, this has been in my drafts for way too long now so I think its fair it finally sees the daylight lol, so sorry to the person that requested this, but here it is now✨

———

The second Sam briefed all of you on the plan, you knew it was going to be a problem.

Not because the mission itself was complicated, just a simple case of a missing person, tied to a local creep with enough ties to the supernatural world to be suspicious. No, the problem was the role you were being asked to play.

"Carl Jennings," Sam had explained, tossing a file onto the motel room table. "Owns a bar downtown, last person to see our vic before she disappeared. Cops questioned him, but he claimed she left alone. No leads since."

You flipped the file open, scanning the contents. The guy's face was plastered across one of the pages, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a face that made your gut twist. Not because he looked particularly intimidating, but because you recognized the type.

Sleazy. Overconfident. The kind of man who thought women were owed to him.

Dean leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So, what? We knock on his door, ask real nice?"

Sam shook his head. "He's not gonna talk to us. But," he turned to you, "he's got a type."

You groaned, already seeing where this was going.

"Great." You dragged a hand down your face. "Let me guess, I'm the bait."

Sam hesitated before nodding. "He likes younger women, especially ones who act... interested. If we send you in, maybe you can get him talking."

Silence.

Dean hadn't said anything yet.

You glanced at him, expecting at least a grunt of disapproval, but he was just staring at the file. Too quiet. Too still.

Oh, yeah. He hated this.

"Dean?" you said, his name sounding more like a question.

His jaw clenched. "Do we really need to do it this way?"

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"No, seriously," Dean cut in, his voice sharp. "There's gotta be another way. We can corner him after hours, rough him up a little—"

You snorted. "Yeah, because nothing says 'please tell us everything you know' like breaking someone's nose."

Dean shot you a look, but you ignored it, closing the file and pushing it away. "Look, I get it. This isn't exactly my dream gig, either, but if this is the best way to get him to talk, then I'll do it."

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, leaning forward to brace his forearms against his knees. He ran a hand over his mouth, visibly trying to reel himself in. "I don't like it."

"I know." You placed a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. "I don't either, but I can handle myself."

Dean's eyes flicked to yours, something passing through them. Something tight and reluctant, something that said I know you can handle it. I just don't want you to have to. But he didn't argue.

And that's how you ended up here. with Dean Winchester sitting few tables away from you pissed.

And honestly? You couldn't blame him. 

Because if the roles were reversed, if it were him sitting at the bar, laughing a little too sweetly at some pervy woman's joke, letting her place a hand on his arm, leaning in just enough to give the illusion of interest, you'd probably be throwing chairs. 

But the job was the job, and you knew what had to be done. 

It didn't make it easier. 

You could feel Dean's eyes on you from across the bar, burning into the side of your face, hot and searing. You didn't need to look to know that his jaw was clenched so tight he was probably grinding his teeth, that his fingers were wrapped too tight around his beer bottle, that he was seconds from saying screw the mission and stomping over here just to deck this guy for breathing in your direction. 

And honestly? You wouldn't have minded. 

Because this guy, Carl? Craig? Who cared, was exactly the type you hated dealing with. The kind of man who thought confidence and sleaze were the same thing, who assumed that a polite laugh was an invitation, that the way you leaned in closer was because you wanted to, not because you were trying to get him talking. 

You had the routine down to an art. Light touches. Tilt of the head. Biting your lip just enough. A perfectly timed giggle. And it was working, he was spilling information between flirty comments and drawn-out stories about himself. 

Then he placed a hand on your thigh. 

Every muscle in your body tensed. 

You swallowed the disgust curling in your throat, forcing a breathy laugh as if that wasn't your cue to get the hell out of here. As if your skin wasn't crawling under his touch. 

It's fine. You've done worse. It's just a hand. 

And then he leaned in. 

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice dropping into something meant to be seductive but landed more on the side of stomach-churning.

"You're even prettier up close," he murmured. "Bet you taste just as sweet." 

Oh, hell no.

Before you could react, before you could push him off, before you could figure out whether breaking his nose would blow the mission, he was gone. One second he was next to you, and the next, Dean was in his place, standing between you like an immovable wall, broad and solid and yours.

Oh, shit. 

You barely registered the sound of the guy stumbling back, his confused "Who the hell are you?" barely processing because your brain was still catching up with the fact that Dean had moved.

Because Dean Winchester never let personal feelings get in the way of a mission. Not when it mattered. 

But this? This was you. 

His restraint had been stretched too thin, too fast. 

And now? Now that elastic band had snapped.

"Her boyfriend." Dean's voice was rough, clipped, the kind of dangerous that had made grown men twice his size back down without a second thought. 

The guy scoffed, glancing at you like he expected you to deny it. When you didn't, he rolled his eyes. "Jesus, relax, man. She was into it." 

Your stomach churned. You were so close to just decking this guy yourself, mission be damned, but Dean's grip on the bar was white-knuckle tight, and you knew if you so much as exhaled wrong, he'd finish what he started. 

You placed a hand on his back, fingers curling into his shirt, not to stop him, but to ground him. To tell him I'm okay. I've got this.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, tension radiating through his body. "Yeah, well, work's over," he gritted out. "So why don't you take your slimy hands and crawl back into whatever hole you came from, huh?" 

The guy held up his hands in mock surrender, muttering something under his breath as he walked off, and only then did you feel Dean's body loosen under your touch. The moment the guy was out the door, Dean turned to you, scanning your face like he expected to find something broken. Like he was waiting for an excuse to go after the guy and finish the job.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, hands finding your waist, pulling you in like he needed to feel you close.

You sighed, letting yourself relax into him, just for a second. "I had it under control, De." 

Dean huffed, eyes flicking to where the guy had disappeared. "Yeah, well, my self-control only goes so far." 

Your lips twitched. "I noticed." 

Dean ran a hand down his face, exhaling deeply. "Next time, I'm taking the pervy witness." 

You grinned, tilting your head. "Sure when you grow a pair of boobs."

Dean smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple, warm and steady and safe.

"Might as well."

[himasgod]

Xiao x Reader

Where he hides his insecurities, thinking he doesn't deserve you

The air at the top of Wangshu Inn was cool, filled with the scent of ancient wood and the distant murmur of river water. You had climbed up here once more, as you always did when the nights grew too heavy to sleep. And you knew he would be there, like a watchful spectre.

Xiao sat on the edge of the roof, his slim figure silhouetted against the silver glow of the moon. His golden eyes, heavy with a weight no one could imagine, were fixed on the horizon. He didn’t turn when you approached, but you knew he had already sensed your presence. He always did.

“You shouldn’t be here this late,” he said in his low, gravelly voice, not looking at you.

You stopped a couple of steps away from him, hugging your own arms to protect yourself from the nighttime chill.

“You shouldn’t be alone here either,” you replied softly.

Xiao sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. You knew it wasn’t easy for him to hear those words, but you also knew they were true. He had let you into his world, even if reluctantly, and you had seen what loneliness and karmic debt did to him. The nights were the worst; it was when the whispers of the demons grew louder, when the invisible wounds he carried tore at him the deepest.

You sat next to him, letting your legs dangle over the edge of the roof. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

He had learned to accept your presence, even when he couldn’t find the words to express what he felt.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve this,” he suddenly murmured, his voice almost inaudible.

“Your company, your patience… everything. I am a warrior marked by countless sins. And yet, you are still here.”

Your heart ached at his words, but it wasn’t the first time it had felt that way.

Carefully, you reached out your hand and brushed his. Xiao didn't pull away, though he didn't answer right away either.

"I'm not here because I feel like I owe you anything," you said softly. "I'm here because I want to be with you. Because I see more than karmic debt and scars. I see someone who fights every day to protect others, even if it means carrying endless pain. And I love you... so much. It is something that is as complicated to explain as your suffering itself…."

Finally, Xiao turned his head to look at you.

"I can't promise you anything…" he said with difficulty. "My existence is tied to suffering. But if you're willing to stay… I'll do everything I can to protect you. Even from myself."

You smiled, as you rested your head on his shoulder. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you also knew you wouldn't change anything you shared.

"I don't need promises," you answered tenderly. "I only need you, Xiao."

For a brief moment, the air seemed to stop. Then, with an almost fearful slowness, Xiao intertwined his fingers with yours. It was a simple gesture, but to him

it meant more than he could ever express in words.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3

[xxchumanixx]

Healing together

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+ mdni!, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (fem receiving), fingering, fluff, angst, hurt, comfort

Word count: 4.731

Authors note: Hello guys! I know I said I'd be uploading another story (actually two), but I had this idea all of a sudden and I just couldn't let it slide. So I had to do it first. Get ready for some naked time with Tim Bradford!

Enjoy!

That, was not how your day had been supposed to go.

Not at all.

Being in the middle of a crimescene, staring at your ex-boyfriend - Yeah, it definitely wasn't supposed to go like that.

It should have been a normal day - you should have went to work, did your job, before going home, cook, shower, sleep.

Simple as that.

But when a colleague from work had been killed in the middle of the day, causing the whole place to be crowded with police and forensics, the day had begun to shift.

Slowly, the simple things became complicated - being crowned when you spotted a familiar face amidst the officers: Tim Bradford.

Sucking in a breath you tried your best to hide, which wasn't that easy given the open parking lot you currently were at.

But he didn't seem to have seen you yet, calming your racing heart down a little.

Your break-up with Tim was nasty.

You weren't compatible anymore, your interests and goals for the future having shifted completely, going into different directions.

That didn't mean that you didn't love him anymore, but when you gave him the choice - either his career or you - he took the career.

You didn't exactly blame him for it, but he broke your heart. Now, years later, you couldn't help but notice that he looked even better than before.

Scolding yourself for thinking this way, you shook your head. He shouldn't be of interest for you, not after all this time.

But he was.

So, when someone cleared their throat behind you, you froze.

"Ma'am, we would like to get a statement from you." You knew his voice, it still haunted you in your dreams - you would have recognized it from anywhere.

Turning around you did your best not to look too suspicious. Sending him a crooked smile his eyes widened, mouth agape as the pen in his hand almost slipped from his grasp.

"Y/N." he carefully said your name, like he was testing it on his tongue after all these years. "Tim." you gave back, swallowing.

The woman beside him - according to her name tag she was officer Chen - looked between you in confusion.

"You know her?" she wanted to know, pen pointed at you. "Yeah..." he returned, eyes fixed on you. "Briefly." you cut in, noticing how his mouth twitched at the statement.

"We were in the same class in academy and she used to work for the LAPD." Tim explained.

"You're a cop?" she asked, sounding almost excited. "I was." you corrected her, biting your lip.

"I was, until a case went wrong, sending me to the intensive care unit for almost three months." "You nearly died." Tim added, shaking his head the slightest bit. "If the bullet had hit a millimeter more to the right he would have hit your heart. Not that it would have been the only bullet, though."

Swallowing at the memory you nodded slightly. "Yeah, the scars remind me everyday of my almost day of death."

Chen bit her lip. "I know that feeling." she mumbled. "Been buried alive. That psycho tattooed my DOD on my ribs."

Your brows rose high at the horrible time she had to have went through, eyes widening. "Officer Bradford saved me." she explained, motioning at Tim.

Nodding you felt a familiar tug at your heart. "He uses to do such things from time to time." you told her, trying to hide how your voice trembled.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name. It sounded strange through the blur and the fog in your head. "Stay with me! Keep your eyes open, you hear me? Y/N!"

Blinking rapidly, you had to get away from him. His presence opened wounds that never managed to heal.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to New Orleans?" Tim wanted to know, tilting his head slightly as his brows furrowed. Your lip twitched - you had barely been in New Orleans for a year.

It was beautiful, but it wasn't LA.

"I'm back, have been a few years now, actually." you explained, fingers tugging at lose strings on your pants. You just had to grab the one with holes in it, hadn't you?

Why even buy overpriced pants with holes, anyways?

Shaking that thought off, you continued. "I'm working here, the one who's murdered was my colleague. Although I contemplated going back."

"Back to New Orleans?" He almost sounded alarmed, but you shook your head. "Back to the police."

That must have alarmed him even more, as his eyes widened significantly.

"I've got an offer from Grey." you explained, tugging a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Tim swallowed, nodding.

"So you two were rookies together?" Chen inquired, smiling. "How was he back then?"

Clearing your throat you looked at her. "He was ambitious, eager." you explained. "A little reckless."

Tim's brows rose at your words. "I was reckless?" he wanted to know, huffing. "We were both reckless when we decided to be-" he cut himself off, already having said too much.

But Chen was clever, as she caught on to what he wanted to say.

"Wait, you two were together?"

Rolling your eyes you looked away for a second.

Damn him and his mouth - even when the memory of what his mouth was able to do made you blush.

Not what you wanted to think of in that moment, though.

"We were." you confirmed, nodding as you looked back at her. "Didn't work. It's history, nothing more."

Tim swallowed, it was so loud that you could hear it.

His gaze wandered over the crimescene, before it fixed on his rookie. "Boot, could you get a statement from this man over there?" he asked, pointing somewhere, though it wasn't really a question.

Chen knew that as well, nodding.

"Was nice to meet you." she spoke, before she turned around and headed for the man Tim pointed at.

Cocking a brow you looked up at him, as his gaze fell back on you. "What?" he asked, brows furrowing. "You did that on purpose." you replied, giving him a pointed look.

Sighing he stuffed away his pen and notepad, nodding. "Yes, I did."

Biting your lip you contemplated to run.

You didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but if he sent his rookie away, he wanted to do exactly that.

You knew him.

Sighing, you decided to stay. It would have only looked suspicious if you ran - they didn't need to falsely arrest you, because they thought you were the murderer.

Biting down on your cheek you waited for him to begin.

"You look good." he spoke hesitantly, a small smile gracing his lips. Nodding, your brows twitched. "Did you tell her to go just so you could tell me that I look good?" you gave back, tilting your head.

"No, I... I'm just surprised to see you, that's all." he admitted, looking down for a split second. "After we... separated, I didn't see you again."

Huffing, you crossed your arms above your chest. "What did you expect, after you broke my heart?" you returned, holding his gaze, even as his eyes averted at your words.

"That I could continue like nothing happened? I couldn't stay, because that meant I'd have to see you everyday, so I quit and went to New Orleans. But it wasn't LA, so I came back after only a year. I kept in contact with Wade and Angela, but that's it."

His brows knitted together. "I don't know if I should be more surprised about you being on first name basis with Grey or you staying in contact with Lopez."

Shaking your head you looked down.

"What are you trying to do here, Tim?" you asked quietly, looking back up. The sun was already setting, shining straight onto your faces, highlighting all of his contours.

Sighing deeply, his gaze fell back on the crowd of people around you. He seemed unsure, hesitant.

"I never got the chance to apologize." he finally spoke, looking down, before his gaze fell on you, as your brows furrowed. "I chose my career, but I later realized that I was wrong. I could have had both and I made the mistake of choosing only one thing."

Shaking your head at his words you felt the anger bubble up. You had suppressed it for so long, that it was hard for you to hold it back now.

"Are you serious?" you wanted to know, taking a step closer, as your eyes narrowed at him. "Angela mentioned that you married - only two years later. Surely your career didn't stand in the way when you did."

He looked like you just slapped him in the face.

"I know." he gave back. "I didn't want to do the same mistake again. But then I did another one. She got addicted, and I didn't intervene at first. Only when she left one night I realized that I fucked up again. I didn't see her for two years, but now she's clean."

Biting your lip you nodded slightly.

"Bet you must be happy now." you said, feeling sorry for her. "We're divorced now." he returned. "It's only a few months ago. But it's better that way."

"Oh." you made, looking away, now feeling guilty, as the anger slowly faded. "Angela didn't tell me. I mean, not that it's my cup of tea, but I'm sorry for you."

He nodded. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

Nodding as well, you didn't know what to say. Luckily, he did.

"You should get home, get some rest." he told you, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I don't know." you gave back, biting your lip. "My car is at the workshop, I got here with the bus, but that won't get here, now that this is a crimescene. I don't know how I'll get home - I guess I'll just walk then."

His brows furrowed. "No, you're not going home on your own." he disagreed, shaking his head. "We still don't know who did this and the suspect could still be close by. I'll drive you."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I can protect myself." you argued. "I bet you have a lot of work left to do here anyway, not to mention your rookie."

But he shook his head, not having it. "She'll drive with someone else." he told you sternly, before walking towards her.

Mouth agape you stared after him, not sure if you were ready to be alone in a car with him just yet.

When he came back, you couldn't believe that he really was able to just go, drive you home.

"Come." he spoke, walking towards his police car. Still shocked you followed him, knowing that you didn't have another choice. He wouldn't have let you go alone, no matter what you did.

You sighed, when you sat down in the passenger seat. You missed sitting in the shop, the familiar smell and feeling causing you to feel homesick.

Tim started the engine, as you buckled up. Leaning back in the seat your fingers brushed over the door. You had sat so many times in the shop, and after all this time of being no cop anymore, you finally felt at home again.

The drive was silent for the first few minutes, after you told him were you lived.

The silence was heavy, neither one knowing what to say now that you were alone.

"Are you planning on taking Grey up on his offer?" Tim broke the silence, looking at you, before his gaze went back out on the street.

"Before getting in the shop I wasn't sure - but now... It feels like I'm home again. All this time I missed something and I know now, that it was this job."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I took that from you." he almost whispered, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten. "Because of me you gave up your dream. I don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for it."

Biting your cheek, you considered if you should tell him that he couldn't make up for it. But you decided against it.

If you really wanted to get back, you shouldn't stay angry at him. You should at least try to forgive him, no matter how long it would take.

"I'm sure you'll find a way." you quietly told him, looking out your window.

Parking in front of your house, it was already dark. He cut the engine, getting out, before you could have stopped him.

Following him to your front door you hesitated. "Won't you get into trouble for driving me home?"

He shook his head, as he stopped at the door, as you did the same. "No, I can explain my absence." he told you, looking down at you. "I just wanted to make sure that you're getting home safely."

Feeling your heart hammer in your chest, you nodded. "Okay, then thank you for driving me home." you spoke, looking up into his eyes. "Yeah, no problem." he mumbled, staring back.

You felt how you became hot, hearing your heartbeat in your ears at his intense stare.

Slowly, he inched closer, his head leaning in your direction. Your breathing faltered, as you did the same.

His breath fanned over your face and you swallowed, before his lips finally met yours.

Something inside you exploded, as you tasted his lips for the first time since your break-up.

They fit together like they were made to be, his hands finding your hips, guiding you closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him.

Your lips devoured each other, his tongue brushing your bottom lip and you let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance, your combined breathing ringing in your ears.

Your heart burst at the feeling, as the kiss grew more heated.

Fumbling for the key, all your worries were suddenly gone. Trying to open the door blindly it took you a few tries, before you heard the familiar click. Pushing the door open, Tim didn't waste any time as he pushed you inside.

He closed the door behind him, before his hands grabbed your face, guiding your lips back onto his.

He pushed you against the nearest wall, your back hitting it almost painfully, as his hands roamed your body. Grabbing your thighs he gave you a sign to jump - and so you did.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down your chin to your neck, sucking at it until he found the spot that had you moaning.

Using the advantage he brushed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before his hands found your hips again. They wandered under your shirt, eagerly touching your skin.

"Where is your bedroom?" he wanted to know breathlessly. "Upstairs, first door on the right." you explained, out of breath as well.

He didn't hesitate to grab you, before he walked to the stairs with you in his arms, showing no signs of trouble as he took them, all the while kissing you as he blindly made his way up.

When he reached the door he pushed it open, only breaking the kiss to locate your bed, before he let you fall down on it. Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt over your head, watching him as he took off his jacket, followed by his shirt and the one he wore under his uniform.

He was breathtaking.

His muscles were more defined than they were back then, making him even more geogous. Unbottoning his pants, you did the same, stripping out of them, before throwing them off the bed.

When you were left in only your underwear, he was back on top of you, his lips taking yours. Lying down on your back his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock pressing against the inside of your thigh.

Sucking down your neck, he again found your sweet spot, earning a moan from you as he sucked on it. Your hands brushed through his hair, as your back arched.

He took the opportunity to open your bra, discarding of it on the floor.

Kissing down to your breasts, his lips found your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You yelped in pleasure and surprise, tugging at his short strands. His tongue circled around it, before it flicked over it.

You moaned when he lightly bit down on your nipple, before letting go of it with a wet pop, giving your other one the same attention.

The wetness between your legs was almost getting too wet, the knot in your belly already forming just because his lips were around your nipple.

Letting go of the other one he went further down, trailing kisses down your stomach, until he reached the hem of your panties. He looked up at you, before he kissed your clothed pussy, causing you to suck in a breath.

He was so unnaturally hot.

Chuckling at your reaction, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, before tugging them down, letting them drop on the floor as well.

Then he pushed your legs back, opening them until he could see his precious price. Kissing your thighs he took his time, causing you to squirm.

You could feel him grin, his hot breath fanning over your heat. Without a warning his tongue licked up your pussy in one stripe, causing your hips to buck, as you moaned loudly.

His tongue went down on you, licking through your folds, flicking over your clit, before his lips sucked it into his mouth.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, fisting it as much as you could with its length, earning a groan from him. It vibrated through your pussy, making you moan in return.

His thumb brushed over your clit, as his mouth let go of you, his eyes finding yours. He drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, gasping for air.

His thumb was soon replaced by his mouth again, as he slowly pushed a finger inside you, after gathering some of your arousel to wet it.

You moaned, as he started fingering you, all the while pleasuring you with his tongue. When he added a second finger, stretching you, your back arched off the matress, as you pulled his head even closer.

The knot in your stomach tightened almost painfully, as his fingers fell into a steady rhythm. He brought you right to the edge, and when you looked down at him, your eyes finding his, you fell.

Screaming his name, you came. He didn't stop though, taking everything you gave him, as he rode you through your high.

When you came down it, he removed his mouth and fingers, wiping over his mouth, that glistened from your arousel, before he leaned up, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue you groaned, palming him through his briefs. He twitched, as he gasped for air, before his lips were on yours again.

Tugging the briefs down his legs, he let them fall to the floor, his cock painfully hard. It poked at your entrance, making you all the more eager to finally have him inside you.

His lips left yours, as he pointed at your night table. You nodded, before he opened it and took out a condom, before sitting up a little. He rolled it down his shaft, before he lay back on top of you.

Kissing you again he guided his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing the head inside.

Moaning you clenched, making him hiss. "Fuck." he breathed. "You're so tight." Smirking you pushed in his direction. He slowly eased forward, until he was buried to the hilt.

Breathing heavily you leaned back into the cushions, needing a moment to get used to him.

His lips brushed your cheek, as he waited for your go. Nodding, you signaled that you were ready.

Slowly, he pulled back until only his head was inside you, before thrusting back into you hard. You yelped, toes curling at the sensation, as he did it again and again, slowly becoming faster.

You fell into a steady rhytm, your hands gripping his bicep with his arms at either side of your head.

His eyes found yours and you sucked in a breath, moaning his name. "Fuck." he swore, biting his lip. "Do that again." Your cheeks flushed. "Tim!" you moaned his name again and he groaned, his thrusts getting harder, deeper.

You wouldn't last long if he kept this up.

Your breasts bounced, and he kissed down them, circling your nipples with his tongue.

Your hands found his hair, tugging at it almost painfully at the sensations. The knot in your belly tightened again, as you brought his mouth back to yours.

He thrust into you vigorously, his pelvis brushing your clit, sending sparks up your body and making your toes curl.

"I'm gonna cum soon." you told him inbetween moans, biting your lip. One of his hands gripped one of your legs, giving you a sign to wrap them both around his middle.

Doing as you were told you felt how he reached even deeper, earning a moan from you both.

His thrusts gained speed, as one of his hands found your middle, his fingers brushing your clit. You twitched under him, as he started to rub it, driving you towards the edge in highspeed.

You were so close to bursting.

"Tim!" you breathed, trying to focus on his face. "I know." he gave back. "Come for me."

With a scream of his name you stumbled over the edge, him following closely as your pussy clenched around him.

He rode out your highs, before he stilled. Breathing heavily your eyes were closed, needing a moment to come down from the best orgasmn you've had in the last few years.

When your eyes opened again they met his, as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. You smiled, still feeling a little high.

He returned the smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Time stood still, as you enjoyed this moment in silence.

Still a little out of breath he rolled down from you, his back hitting the sheets as he lay down beside you.

"Fuck..." he mumbled. "That was..." "Amazing." you finished for him. "Yeah..."

You lay in silence as you slowly caught your breath, him discarding of the condom, before lying back down. But as the high faded, something different bubbled up.

Feelings, that were so deep buried inside you, suddenly pushed back up. Gasping, you tried to suppress the tears -failing horribly as a sob broke through.

"Y/N!" Tim called out your name in worry, sitting up. "What happened?" Tears streamed down your face, as you sat up as well.

"Why couldn't it just have been fine?" you wanted to know, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why couldn't we just have been happy back then?" you returned, wiping your face.

He fell silent, as he knew what you meant.

Crying silently you suddenly felt ashamed. You shouldn’t have been crying over the past, but you couldn't help it. After all that happened, you still loved him.

"After you've been shot, almost dying in my arms..." he began, breaking the silence, as his gaze fell on the sheets. "I built this shield around me, that was supposed to prevent a situation like this from happening again. I almost lost you, an event that traumatized me so badly... For a very long time I tried to convince myself that what I did was right."

He sighed, and you swallowed, biting your lip as more tears fell.

"When I married Isabel, I tried to prevent something like this, but I failed - again." he continued. "She was undercover, getting addicted. I didn't know how to help her and to be honest, I don't believe that there was actually a way I could have helped. If anything, I made it worse. It reminded me of us. I relived the events from when you were shot, nearly dying. You lost so much blood that they had to revive you - two times. Knowing that it was my fault, knowing that you could have died because of me - something inside me broke. So when I built this shield, and you asked me to go with you - I was scared that it would follow us. I was scared that you'd be in harms way, because of me. So I chose the job."

Sobbing, you tried to understand what he just told you.

"It wasn't your fault." you told him, wiping your face, even though it was useless. "Yes it was! If I-" he wanted to argue, but you cut him off. "No, Tim! It was not your fault! It was mine!" you shouted, pointing at yourself.

"I was sloppy that day, I didn't sleep enough, wasn't feeling well. And if I hadn't hesitated when trying to shoot the attacker, he wouldn't even have had a chance to get me. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? Nothing of this was on you, Tim."

His mouth was open, eyes red from the tears he tried to hold at bay.

"You never said that you didn't feel well." he realized, swallowing. "If you would have told Grey, you wouldn't have even been there in the first place."

Nodding, you bit your lip, absentmindely brushing over the scar on your chest with your fingers.

"Yes, but i was so eager to get that job done." you explained. "Nothing would have stopped me from going out there, so stop blaming yourself. Please, Tim."

It fell silent again, as your tears slowly subsided.

All this time you had suffered, because he thought he was at fault for your accident. He blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

When he suddenly scooted closer, his arms wrapping around you with his chin on your head, you heard him sniff. Leaning against him you breathed his familiar scent, your heart bleeding as he cried.

You could have had it all. Could have lived a happy life. He could have married you instead of Isabel, who ended up getting addicted, breaking his heart.

You had both suffered so badly.

And as you sat there, both crying over the past mistakes, you made a decision.

You would forgive him.

After all, he did what he did to keep you safe - even if he broke his own heart in the process as well.

After a while he shifted, looking down at you. His eyes were red and a little puffy, but yours didn't look any better.

"I shouldn't have let you go." he told you, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "When you asked me to go with you, I should have said yes. I shouldn't have pushed you away, out of fear that I might lose you if I didn't."

Shaking your head, you sniffed. "I shouldn't have made you choose." you gave back. "I ran away from my fear, but it didn't work. I should have stayed and tried to heal, instead of running."

He breathed deeply, his hand on your cheek.

"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you." he admitted, holding your gaze. "Not even when i was with Isabel."

Smiling through another wave of tears coming up, your hand lay on his. "I never stopped loving you, either." you returned, a happy feeling spreading through you.

It tickled your veins, warming you from the inside.

He smiled as well, blinking as a tear fell on his cheek.

"Can we fix this?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes. "I think we did already." you gave back, causing him to sigh in relief.

"Will we be together, after this?" he questioned further. Swallowing, you wiped at your eyes, before responding. "I would love nothing more."

He kissed you. It felt different, free.

Like it should be.

"I love you." he spoke, kissing your cheeks. "I love you too." you returned, a giddy feeling spreading through your entire being, smiling broadly.

"And I promise that I'll never leave you again." he added, swallowing, as he looked into your eyes. "You'll never get rid of me again."

"I wouldn't want to."

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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TRIGGER WARNING: throwing up.

Back then, Mother wasn’t like this.

Your childhood memories are a broken mosaic, shattered and scattered, much like the snow globe Daddy gifted you at Christmas before he disappeared. At the age of twelve, it seems like your mind finds a way to flush it all out. Now, there's hardly anything left to hold onto as proof that you weren’t born and started out as a sixteen-year-old girl.

Yet, somehow, you know Mother wasn't always like this. She didn't begin her existence as a woman who wielded her critical gaze like a burn, her lips all too willing to spew sharp words when she caught you wearing a dress she didn't remember buying.

Today was supposed to be fun—your lunch outing, “girls time,” as Mom would say. She promised to take you to the new Italian restaurant around the block, then you’d go for some ice cream and some shopping. You figured this was the perfect occasion to wear that beautiful white tweed dress from Auntie Joyce.

But, as you came to your mother’s room to borrow her perfume, her smile faltered at the sight of you. She stopped applying her blush, placing the brush on her dressing table.

“I don’t remember buying this one,” she said, tilting her head as if the fabric offended her.

You bite your lip, torn between telling the truth or lying. But, the dress is just too pretty not to wear.

“You did.” You reply, hoping she’ll buy your lie.

Your mother, however, deepened her frown—she didn't. Instead, she got up from her dressing table chair, striding over to touch the dress' fabric. Her fingers sent a shiver down your spine as she reached the back of your neck to yank the tag. She gasped as she read the designer's name.

“You think I’d buy you a Chanel dress?” She hissed, eyes wide as fury seeped into her voice. “Who gave you this?” she demanded.

Your heart was racing. You were about to respond, but you knew deep down that no explanation would be enough to quell her anger. She would not tolerate your silence. You let out a gasp as she seized your shoulders, shaking your body roughly.

"Who was it?!" She snapped.

“I-It was Auntie Joyce,” you whispered, shrinking under her gaze.

At your answer, her face became even more contorted, features twisting as she dug her sharpened nails into the flesh of your shoulders. “Why?! Why would you do this? Are you trying to insult me?!”

“No!” You pleaded, but she only paced faster, breathing heavily as if on the verge of explosion. “I just... I just liked it!” you desperately tried to explain.

“Liked it? Or was it just that Joyce could afford you what I can’t?!” she booms, spinning around to face you. “Do you wish Joyce was your mother instead? So she could buy you fancy dresses when I worked my ass off for you?!”

A lump formed behind your forehead, the ache intensifying as your vision began to blur. Glancing out the window, you notice the gorgeous weather outdoors—a deceitful illusion that had led you to believe this day would be a good one. You were supposed to go on a lunch outing to that new Italian restaurant.

You clenched your teeth, holding back your words. Did you really give off that impression, simply by wearing this dress? Was it disrespectful of you to accept Aunt Joyce’s gift when you were meant to spend the day with Mother?

The pounding in your head became more intense. Was the adult world this complicated? That every action had layers of implications that weren’t visible on the surface? You had hurt her without even realizing it. If the adult world was this confusing, then how were you going to survive after turning eighteen? Nothing was ever simple.

You stand trembling, picking at your fingers until they bleed. With trembling lips, you dare meet her glare.

“I-I can ch-change,” you stutter, hoping it will calm her anger, anything.

But her brows furrow lower, her mouth twisting in a sneer. A sharp look as she spat: “Too late. You’ve already ruined our day. This is all your fault!”

You struggled to control your racing thoughts and the growing panic. "Please..." You pleaded through shallow breaths.

“Get out of my room.”

Ignoring your desperate pleas, Mother directs her gaze to the mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection. She doesn’t look at you, but you know she’s waiting. As quietly as you can, you slip out like told. You close the door with a gentle click, and the house falls silent once more. The heaviness in your chest becomes unbearable because you know this will mean two days of Mother treating you as if you were invisible.

Something broke inside you. Fresh tears streamed down your face as the excruciating pain in your temple pounded relentlessly. Your body trembled uncontrollably, racked by waves of sobbing.

Mother wasn't always like this before, but you weren’t sure about that anymore. It was hard to conjure the image of that other version of her, now that the venom had infiltrated your veins, weighing down your eyelids and convincing you that Mother had always been born and started as a woman scattering eggshells in her wake.

Or perhaps you’re the poison. Perhaps you're the one who scattered the eggshells. Perhaps Mother’s venomous outbursts were merely her attempt at retaliating, releasing a barrage of curses and what-ifs. Of another life she might have had if you hadn’t existed, had she never met Dad.

(But I don’t know why I’m here, either.)

Now, you’re sitting on the edge of the plush bed, in the room Sabrina gave you and Simon. The ornate carpet seems to be the thing that catches your attention, but in reality, your mind is more preoccupied with what happened an hour ago: Joyce introducing Simon as your boyfriend to Mother, Mother pretending she’d known all along—“There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet,” as she tells Joyce.

The way she touches you in a gentleness you never believe she was capable of.

Drowning in the depths of your thoughts, you remained oblivious to the shower ceasing or Simon exiting the bathroom in all his bare-chested glory. Droplets of water clung to his skin; a towel hung around his neck. He stares at you like a crossword puzzle, hands on the waistband of his pants.

“You alright?” he asks. 

Forcing a smile, you say, “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Simon’s eyebrows raise slightly, his gaze studying you suspiciously. But he’s never been one to push people into things they don’t want to say. He moves to retrieve his shirt from his bag.

Unable to hold back your guilt, you blurted out, “Sorry about Sabrina. She shouldn't have acted that way towards you.” You fidgeted with your fingers, seeking a distraction from the growing unease.

Simon paused, then turned first his head and then his body to face you. He claimed the empty spot next to you, the bed dipping heavily under his weight. You didn't dare meet his gaze, fixing your eyes instead on where his shirt was still bundled at his elbows.

“That really what’s ‘ad ya so tangled?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. If only he knew how much his gaze seared you—how desperately you searched for a momentary reprieve by averting your eyes from him. Yet, avoiding him was an impossible task. You dared to look up to meet his stare, feeling your heart flutter against an invisible grip.

“Maybe,” you answered, leaving the question unanswered.

Simon huffed out a breath. It seemed like the situation weighed more heavily on your mind than they did on his.

Feeling brave, you added, “And I’m sorry about my aunt too. For how she labeled you.”

Simon gave a non-committal grunt, and now you were desperate to unload the heaviest guilt of all. One that he probably won’t brush off so easily.

“And I’m sorry about my mother,” you began, voice small and hesitant. But the sentence had been said, and you had to finish it. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell her about you like she claimed.”

When you finish, you brace yourself for his reaction—for his confusion and skepticism, questioning why your mother would say that in the first place. You've prepared yourself to respond truthfully: you don't know. After all, there were countless things your mother did that you couldn't make sense of, no matter how much you racked your brains. By then, you had braced yourself for his irritation, a demand for clarification—or even an accusation that you are trying to trap him, to reveal his existence to your family to ensure he can't leave you so easily.

Feeling indebted to redemption, you try again, “If you want to leave early, before tomorrow… I’d understand.”

“Ya think too fuckin’ much, ya know that?”

You stare at him as Simon tucks his shirt on, muscle ripping under inked skin. He stands, reaching for the cigarette pack he left on the bedside table before he showered earlier. Considering his words, you nod more to yourself.

“Maybe I do.” You reply softly.

“It ain’t fuckin’ ‘ealthy, love,”

Simon shoved the cigarette pack in his pants pocket. He was the last person to talk about healthy habits when he smoked several packs a day. But who are you to judge? Somewhere beneath your brittle bones, in your greenish-brown flesh, you are just as poisoned, if not worse. Every day your mouth spews acid from the rotten fruit growing in your belly.

Based on your self-examination, you offered a simple two-word response.

“I know.”

The great hall was alive with music and laughter as Sabrina led the crowd, Andrew by her side with his possessive hand resting on her waist.

“Tonight’s our last night of freedom before the shackles come on, people!” she exclaimed dramatically, drawing laughter and cheers to fill the room. “So let’s eat, drink, and have a good time! But for the love of God, try to keep yourselves in check; we still have a wedding tomorrow!”

With a glass raised high, she prompted the rest to join her in a toast, followed by a domino of clinks and enthusiastic applause. From your perch at the far end of the room, you watched with a smile as Sabrina blossomed under the attention. Her friends flocked around taking photos, their phones flashing on and off before bringing the blonde into a crushing hug.

The looming shadow at the edge of your vision grabs your attention, and you turn to see Simon's imposing frame returning from a phone call. You greet him with a quiet “Hey,” searching his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Simon leaned in close to your ear. “Yeah, everythin’s fine.” He cast his gaze on the last-minute decorations scattered around the room. “Fancy.”

You followed his gaze, nodding and bringing your champagne glass to your lips. “It is rather fancy,” you agreed softly, taking in the view of people dancing to particularly cheesy music. “Could’ve Gone For You” blared across the hall—it was a wonder no one had complained yet. “The music could be better though.”

As expected, he gave a derisive snort from behind his mask. “Could’ve gone without that sappy shite, if ya ask me.”

You laugh at his visible irritation, and he smiles—crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes—either in appreciation of his own joke or something else. Looking around, you see Sabrina flitting from guest to guest with her fiancé. Your uncle laughs with a group your age, no doubt torturing them with his lame jokes and exaggerated stories.

As your eyes swept further, a familiar face appeared in the throng. Sabrina’s mother is greeting everyone happily... and beside her, her. Your own mother glided near with a faux smile, her gaze finding you instantly across the room before it landed on your hands. And her face contorted in dislike.

Your airway tightens, and your grip on the glass stem turns your knuckles white. As your mother says something to your aunt—causing her to direct that bright smile in your direction—your breath comes out in short stutters that you refused to acknowledge. But unbeknownst to you, someone else had noticed your suddenly quiet demeanor.

“Here’s my favorite niece!” Aunt Joyce exclaimed, pulling you into her signature suffocating hug layered with her fragrant perfume. You forced a smile, cheeks straining under the effort.

Releasing you, she turned her attention to Simon, brows knitting in the absence of a champagne glass in his grip. “And you, Simon! Where’s your drink?” she asked almost as if she were offended, and before Simon could answer, Joyce waved her hands dismissively. “You know what? I’ll get it for you! Consider this a special treat from the mother of the bride.”

“Bring me one as well, Joyce.”

Then she spoke, unexpectedly. Joyce and you fell silent, exchanging a surprised glance. Mother abhorred drinking, berating even the most moderate drinker within sight of her. Yet here she was, requesting a glass of champagne, with a smile still not reaching her eyes.

Joyce hesitated. For a brief moment, as the conversation lingered in limbo, you hoped she would refuse, that she would stay and not leave you alone with her. But alas, your aunt left the conversation without questions, melting into the crowd with a resumed cheery demeanor and a “Coming right up!” abandoning you and Simon, betraying the image of a good host.

Mother smiled—a perfect picture of a mother—as she turned to Simon. “We haven't really had a chance to talk more, have we?”

The game starts. You wait for Simon's part in their exchange, fingers twisting white-knuckled around your champagne flute. Your heart races like a caged bird's, pounding against your ribs while acid explodes in your stomach.

Simon gave her a curt nod. “I s’pose not.” He answered so casually.

Mother chuckled softly, a sound like ice cracking. “My daughter right here"—she places a manicured hand on your shoulder, nails digging possessively into your exposed skin—“she's very shy, believe it or not; which is probably why she hides so many details from me about you.”

You despise the way her voice assumes a sweet, innocent tone—a mask to deceive yet another person to fall under the impression that she is a "good" mother and to normalize her prying into the lives of the people in your life with the excuse, "I'm just a mother who is worried about her daughter."

Something old, almost ancient, creeps up the walls of your stomach—rising, rising, rising like a tidal wave. Acid scorches your insides, your mind twisted in anxiety. You try to catch your breath to keep your expression schooled.

Mother smiled again, then asked, “What is it you do for work, Simon?”

You yearned to reach out to Simon, to tell him that he was under no obligation to answer. He valued his privacy above all else, you know, sharing little even with you. You wanted him to know that he doesn't owe anyone an explanation, least of all this woman who had so abruptly ambushed him with impudent questioning.

“Engineerin’ stuff, mostly.” came Simon’s reply.

You feel a spark of relief at his lie—one that tells you that he knows he owed this woman nothing. That he, like you, saw through her guise to the poison beneath. And in that, a dark triumph bloomed despite your raging gut. Perhaps it was a sick, twisted thing—the thought of another seeing Mother as she truly was and not as the loving mother she's pretending to be.

Proof that you're not crazy. That you're not the ungrateful, disobedient child who left home as she described to her relatives in pursuit of sympathy.

“An engineer, interesting,” Mother replied, though her smile remained cold. “It’s good (Y/N) has found someone so… capable.”

As she turned to you, you saw it—that brief flash of disgust, dislike, and something more threatening on the curve of her lips. A flash of fangs before the strike. The sour taste of acid reached your epigastrium as your head sank into déjà vu. It was like all the other times, when the family reunion was in full swing and she would tell a series of “jokes” about you.

Which, then, you soon learned was humiliation.

Mother would do it again, this time to Simon. She would paint you in a worse light and portray you as a weight that he would be wise to shed. And then later, after he was gone, Mother's arrogant triumph would be cemented in her chant as if she had proven a point, as if she was right once again.

As if people didn't leave you because of her.

To prove your fears, Mother sighed delicately. “It's too bad I live so far in San Francisco. If I were nearer, I'd be sure to give her lessons to improve herself—she still has a lot to learn, and I wouldn't want my daughter to burden you.”

At this point, the pain had already hit your head. Your mouth shut tightly as you desperately attempted to suppress the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. In your efforts to maintain a semblance of composure, you missed Simon's concerned glance.

“Reckon if anyone’s a burden ‘ere, it’s meself. But she don’t seem to mind it none.”

Feeling Simon’s hand squeeze your shoulder gently should have melted the tension away—but it didn’t. If anything, it only served to twist the knife deeper. Then, shame bloomed in your chest.

Under Mother’s watchful eyes, even his touch now felt tainted, as if it were something it shouldn’t be. A sin you had no right to. And you hated this—how easily she could twist even this, turning a comforting gesture into something dirty and wrong. It wasn’t, you knew, yet still you couldn’t banish the sickening guilt that writhed within like an eel.

You hate yourself for this.

Mother scoffed at Simon's reply, annoyed he refused to rise to her bait. “That's a surprise. You seem to like my daughter very much.”

The acid hit the tip of your throat. Setting down your champagne glass, you fled the room as fast as your unsteady legs could carry you, one hand clamped over your mouth. You burst through the nearest bathroom door just in time, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. Stinging tears rolled down your cheeks. The acrid fluid spilled through your fingers, stripping your throat raw until there was nothing left but dry heaves.

Sitting on the cold tile, you feel as small as that sixteen-year-old girl again. Everything you’ve tried to do—leaving home and moving to a new continent, changing your phone number, making minimal contact with people who might tell her about you—now feels pointless. Foolish little girl.

How bad was it all those years ago? It's ironic that the memory has been blurred, yet your body still reacts the same way to her. Suddenly, a hole forms in your heart, a vacuum where all the big emotions are drained away, leaving only a hollow emptiness. Nothing. This yawning void is no better than everything.

Lost in the numbing fog, you jumped when the door banged open suddenly. Simon stormed in without a knock—very much in his character. The black mask obscuring his expression, but you could see his eyes burning with some intense emotion that you couldn’t place.

Judgment? Pity? Disgust? You don't know, and you're afraid of finding out.

Instead of answering your "questions," he crouches down in front of you, brown eyes sweeping over you, assessing your condition.

“You alright?”

His voice came out gruff, but there was an unusual edge you’d never heard before. Nodding slowly, you rasped, “Yeah, must’ve been the champagne.” It was a lame lie, but you were too tired to offer a better one.

Simon must have realized that too. He looked at you as if he knew what this was about, as if he had seen plenty of this. But, alas, you were a coward, choosing to avert your gaze and pretending his eyes didn't strip you bare to the bone. How could you explain to him that this was all because of a mother?

“Come on, let’s get ya back to the room, yeah?”

In that moment, you are reminded that Simon is not like her; he doesn't pry or make demands. He doesn't ask questions you fear to answer or force explanations you don’t want to elaborate. Whether it's kindness or indifference, you don’t know, but for now, it’s comfort.

Even as you wrapped yourself in a cocoon as soon as you reached your room, Simon let you. He closed the door after returning from another smoke, turning off the lights and letting the room bask in the pale moonlight coming through the window. The bed groaned as he joined you, his big, warm body close yet distant.

You fervently wish he would embrace you.

Fresh flower arrangements filled the air with a sweet scent; the wedding arch looked stunning with the decorations Joyce had mentioned the day before. On the long-awaited big day, the manor was bustling with excitement and nervousness. Bridesmaids were running around the hallway in their beautiful gowns.

Clicking his tongue, Simon wrestled the buttons of his suit jacket with effort. To think that clothes meant for his smaller, younger self years ago would fit his now bigger body was foolish; however, this was the only formal wear he owned back home. Besides, he had never been one for fancy parties (his life was more about simpler, boring affairs). If it weren’t for you, Simon was sure he wouldn’t be attending any more similar events in the future.

His lips released an exhale as the final button slid into place. Walking to the mirror on the far side of the room, Simon couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His broad shoulders were stretched to their limits, almost tearing through the black fabric with every movement. Like a grown gorilla stuffed in boy’s clothes. But it’d ‘ave to do, he supposed. Not like there’s time to run out for a new one now.

“All set then?” you asked Simon as you walked out of the bathroom after finishing your makeup and hair.

Glancing around, you saw his tie laid out neatly on the bed. You lifted the silk tie and turned to him, stepping closer to close the distance between the two of you. “Here, let me do this for you.” You offered him.

Simon inclined obligingly, lowering his head to allow you to loop the tie around his neck. The next part proved to be a challenge. Trying to bridge the gap between your heights, you rose up on your tiptoes, hands straining to cross the wide satin over the narrow one, but still fell exasperatingly short.

Releasing a sigh, you looked up into his eyes. “Could you maybe... bend down a bit? I can't reach up there." You said.

A wry smile quirked his lips, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse just to give you a hard time. But after a beat, Simon stooped lower so your faces were level. “How's this, then?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Simon watches your hands work deftly, tucking the strip of silk beneath in a half-Windsor knot. You pull it taut in the direction of his collar, then flatten out the delicate fabric's dimples on the sides. The tie is completely symmetrical after one last tug.

“There.” You smooth the silk against his broad chest.

You turn to do your other preparations, while Simon walks over to the standing mirror to take one last look at his appearance. Satisfied, he turns to watch you insert yourself into your light blue dress.

“Can you help with the zipper?” you ask.

Simon’s footsteps approached before you felt his big palm meet the skin of your back. Your breath hitched, goosebumps running down your spine. He worked the zipper until a brief hissing sound was heard, signaling it’s all set. “All done.” He announced.

Before Simon could stop himself, he leaned in to brush a ghosting kiss by your ear. “Ya smell nice as always.” His warm breath caressed your delicate shell, and you squeezed your eyelids shut as you tried to calm your pounding heart.

Turning to meet his brown eyes, you pause to take in the subtleties of his face, which you know he will conceal once more. The slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes in his rare smiles, the curve of his lips amidst his light stubble. He blinks, and those pale eyelashes flutter along with the butterflies in your stomach.

To be one of the few allowed to see him so unguarded feels like a privilege in its own way.

Your lingering gaze prompted him to ask, “What?”

You simply shook your head with a small smile. “You smell nice too,” you replied, barely more than a shy whisper.

None of you moved. The ceiling fan whirred on ceaselessly, filling the silence with the soft snores of its motor. Outside, the rustling of leaves in the wind waved along with the thin branches that tapped on the window. Your eyes returned to his lips as if it were the only way home, and you wanted to wipe their dry surface with the touch of your tongue.

All of a sudden, the fantasy of the future plays like a presentation inside your pretty head. In the countryside of England, what would it be like if this were your wedding instead of Sabrina’s? If Simon were the happy groom instead of Andrew. There would definitely be his favorite bourbon. You’d wear this classic, timeless wedding dress with a long veil and a waterfall bouquet. His parents and siblings (if he has any) would fill the front rows to watch you exchange vows.

Would Simon want that? Has he ever thought of a wedding with a previous girl? Your heart is gripped tightly by the green monster's hand. He was your first, and yet there was someone before you and another before them. Your chest weighs with the realization that his neck has been bared on lips that aren’t yours.

While you were lost in your own thoughts, Simon was fighting his own. And before he could stop himself, he was leaning in, pressing his lips against yours in a nearly desperate kiss. Your eyes widened, mind compelled to be dragged in as he yanked your waist to bring you closer. He grunted into your mouth as he walked you back, causing your back knees to meet the bed and you to sink into the soft mattress. Your hands curled around his neck by their own accord, clinging to him like a mooring rope that kept you in place.

You weren’t the first, you know.

You weren't the first, and that fact ignited a fierce anger within you. Your fantasies, so cherished, now tear apart like shreds of tissue. The desire to be the first skin he ever touched in lust, to be his living mannequin as he explored a woman’s anatomy and poured his pornographic imagination into you... all seemed like a distant pipe dream shattered by the harsh truth of reality.

These desires... they had almost been wiped away, replaced entirely with a fierce anger and a fierce urge to rid the world of any evidence of him having touched a woman who wasn't you.

But as his tongue expertly sweeps over yours, hooking and tracing the cavern of your mouth carefully, you find yourself lulled once again. His kiss like a prophet spreading a gospel, and surrendering to him is no longer an option. You know you weren't the first, yet you present yourself to him like a willing cattle to a slaughterer all the same.

The boisterous shouting outside the room grew louder, snapping both of you out of the moment. The hurried footsteps on the creaky, old wooden floor were easily heard, before someone's voice announced, "It’s starting!" followed by complete silence in the hallway once more.

Simon was the one to break the kiss, his gaze momentarily fixed on you before shifting to the door and then back to you like a dazed person. “Sorry.” The single word escaped his lips; you're not sure what he's apologizing for.

As he moved to stand, the bed creaked softly beneath his shifting weight. Your eyes follow his retreating form, lingering on his lips, still flushed and swollen from your kiss.

“Wait,” you breathed, catching his wrist before he could turn away.

Simon’s pale eyebrows knit together in a puzzled look, but he still says nothing. Hesitantly, you reach up to swipe your thumb across his lower lip, gathering the faint sheen of gloss left behind.

You chuckled. “You've got my lipstick on,” you explain, holding up the gloss-stained digit for him to see.

The expression on his face changed from confusion to a gradual realization, and finally, a hint of amusement as he let out his own deep chuckle. Licking his lips slowly, he brought his own thumb to swipe across, searching for more residue.

“Fuckin' thing,” he grunted as if in annoyance, but the crinkle around his eyes told otherwise.

Your lips were pulled into a smile. Reaching out your hands, you asked, “Help me up?”

As he pulled you to your feet, you took a moment to smooth your gown and hair, making sure you didn’t look too disheveled from the kiss. Simon retrieved his mask from his pants pocket, hooking the strap over his ear. Slipping your arm into his once more, you both made your way from the room.

From afar, the strains of romantic music (with better taste) colored the wedding day. The sun radiated warmth, casting soft, golden rays on friends and family who had taken their seats waiting for the ceremony to begin. As you and Simon walked along the fresh, green grass, sentimentality began to burrow into your ribs.

As you walk to your seats, your eyes are glued to the side view of his sharp outline. When the light seeps through his bittersweet chocolate, transforming his iris honey-colored, the throbbing in your chest is renewed. You could blame it on the wedding—on the love and romance that hangs in the air as two people prepare to be unionized in a testimony of many. But, in truth, you know better what this is.

A ballerina twirls atop your heart, pirouetting to its rapid rhythm. The pastor has opened the ceremony with the words of God, yet you are busy with your own unspoken prayers.

Please, make him stay.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

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[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (I)

Chapter 1 : For the Best

Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!

Please, tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2739

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was a logical decision.

That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.

This is for the best. There’s no choice.

It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.

Best friends.

Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.

If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.

Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…

And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…

Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.

“Damn… where’s my other sock?”

You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.

“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.

“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”

“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”

“He does hold grudges like no one else…”

Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.

“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”

He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.

“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.

His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…

“Really?”

“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.

He tightened his hold on the sheets.

“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…

Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.

He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.

“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.

He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.

“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”

You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.

“I like it when you do that.”

It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.

“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Get all worried about me.”

You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.

“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”

“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”

“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”

You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.

“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”

He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.

You heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.

You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.

Third rule: no kissing without sex.

The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.

It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.

Andrew, you absolute fool…

His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.

She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.

Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.

Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…

“Andy? You’re okay?”

He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Sure, why?”

“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.

It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.

When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.

You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.

Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.

“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”

“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.

“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”

But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.

“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.

“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”

Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.

“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.

“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”

“No… no, we didn’t fight.”

“What is it, then?”

“We… We’re sleeping together.”

Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…

“What? When? How? What?”

“You’ve asked that one twice.”

“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.

He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.

“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”

“Oh…”

She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.

“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.

“A few months.”

“And you’re not dating her?”

“No, we’re not dating.”

“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”

“Yeah.”

He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.

“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.

“Oh, honey…”

She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”

“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”

She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.

“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”

He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”

“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”

But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.

Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.

[kiwriteswords]

May I please request “Discussing things that set themselves up to be hurt and trusting that the other won't take advantage of it” with Hotch and a female reader who has issues with trust and intimacy?

Hi!! Thanks so much for requesting a short drabble! I hope you enjoy!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1k

Rating: Everyone

TW: Canon typical themes, trust issues

A Leap of Trust

The BAU had wrapped up a long, draining case that left everyone emotionally spent. As the team packed up their things to head home, you found yourself lagging behind, lingering in the conference room. You didn’t quite feel ready to leave yet. It was easier to bury yourself in work than to face the quiet of your apartment, the silence that would force you to think—about everything.

You heard the door open behind you. "Y/N," Hotch's deep voice carried through the room, soft and careful. "You okay?"

You turned, managing a small smile. "Yeah, just catching my breath."

Aaron's brow furrowed slightly, a look of concern passing over his features. "This case was hard," he said, stepping closer. "You don't have to hold everything inside, you know. I'm here."

You sighed, knowing that he meant well. But trust, for you, was not something that came easily. It hadn’t for a long time. Your past was full of people who had promised to be there for you and then left when things got complicated, leaving you to pick up the pieces. You weren’t sure how to explain that to Hotch, not without sounding broken.

"I know you're here," you replied softly, eyes on the file in front of you, tracing the edge with your fingertips. "But it's not that simple, Aaron."

He didn’t push you. Hotch had always been patient with you, but you could tell that he was waiting for you to let him in. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to; you did. But that made it scarier. Trusting him meant handing over pieces of yourself that no one had seen in years, and trusting that he wouldn't break them.

He took another step, standing beside you now. His hand rested gently on the back of your chair, not quite touching you, but close enough that you could feel his presence. You could always feel him.

"What is it that's holding you back?" His voice was quiet, understanding. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N."

The vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. It was like he knew you were struggling, and not just with the case. You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. If you didn’t say something now, you'd only keep pushing him away. And maybe, just maybe, you were tired of doing that.

You shifted in your seat, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm… I'm scared," you admitted, the words coming out barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of letting someone in, of trusting that they won't hurt me. Every time I’ve trusted someone in the past, they’ve taken advantage of it. And I can't…" You paused, struggling to find the words. "I can’t go through that again."

Hotch's expression softened, and he moved to sit beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand why you would feel that way," he said, his voice steady, grounding. "And I won’t pretend to know everything you've been through. But what I can tell you is that trust is never a guarantee that things won’t hurt. It’s a leap of faith."

You felt your chest tighten at the thought. "But what if I get hurt again?"

"Then you tell me," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "And I promise you, I will never take advantage of that trust. I’ve seen what it looks like when people use that against others, and I won't let that happen to you. Not with me."

His words made you feel seen, really seen. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to believe him, to believe that he wouldn't hurt you. It was terrifying, and yet something inside you whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was different.

"I want to believe you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You can," Hotch replied, his hand slowly reaching for yours. He paused, giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t. You let his fingers lace with yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. "I know it’s not easy for you. And I know this is a risk. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N."

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about the physical touch—it was about the trust that came with it. The trust you were giving him, even if it was in small doses.

"I don’t know how to do this," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. "I've never been good at… trusting people. At letting someone in."

Hotch's thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand. "Then we take it slow. We figure it out together. And if you need space, or if you feel like it's too much, you tell me. We’ll move at your pace."

The way he said it—so calm, so assured—made you feel like maybe you could trust him, that he really wouldn't hurt you. He wasn’t asking for more than you could give, and that meant more to you than he would ever know.

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Okay," you said, your voice steadying. "Okay, we take it slow."

Hotch smiled then—just a small, barely-there curve of his lips—but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you for trusting me."

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to pull away. Instead, you held on just a little tighter, a little longer, feeling his warmth settle into the cracks of your guarded heart.

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