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spideyjimin · 3 months ago

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Bloodlines entwined: IX | jjk

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

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

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

— rating: 18+

— words: 11,697

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

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

Chapter IX: the power within

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay,” he mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm,” he replies.

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

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

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

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

You nod as you realize that he’s right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook flinches, his eyes snapping back to yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on the bed,” he instructs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jungkook,” you finally say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Says the drama queen,” you directly answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Strip for me, sunshine,” he commands.

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

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

“No bra?” he raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook, move please,” you beg him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he groans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook steps closer, his hands gently gripping your arms.

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

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

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

Your chest rises and falls as you force yourself to breathe, to harness the emotions instead of drowning in them. You close your eyes, envisioning yourself standing firm. The power is still there, but instead of letting it erupt uncontrollably, you try to mold it, shaping it to your will.

Something you’ve noticed that seems to be working is thinking about the people you love and a good souvenir you have with them. Each time, it’s a different souvenir that seems to work. Today, your mind is brought back to a couple of months ago. To the day you met Jungkook.

It feels like it was a lifetime ago, yet it has only been four months. You can still perfectly picture him in that cold room, seconds before finding out about the mistake. He was so mysterious, yet undeniably charismatic. Something about him was drawing you in. After spending the past few weeks getting to know him, you’ve come to realize that the first version of him you met was his royal self. You met the king before you met your soulmate.

It was the beginning of this great adventure. An adventure where you get to become a mother. That thought warms your heart, and you feel yourself calming down.

When you open your eyes, they get blue. Jungkook smirks as he notices your blue eyes and claws.

“See? You’re getting there,” he says.

“It’s easy when you make me want to punch your ex,” you mumble, your fangs growing in your mouth.

Suddenly, a protective aura rises from within you. It’s strange and unfamiliar but extremely powerful. Is it the soulmate bond? Is it Jungkook trying to shield you? This is so new and pretty confusing.

“Is it you?” you ask, arching a brow at your boyfriend, your gaze locked on his.

“What?” he looks genuinely perplexed. “What am I doing?”

This is not him; you can tell by his expression. He’s not teasing you, he’s very serious. You frown, very confused with what is going on. What is this? Where is this coming from?

“What’s going on, yn?” Jungkook is getting worried.

Slowly, you shift back to your human form, too focused on trying to understand what is going on. You can’t really describe it, but it’s extremely powerful, and it’s coming from inside you. It feels like someone wrapped a blanket around you, a force trying to reassure you.

“I don’t know,” you answer, your mind trying to find the source of this power.

You close your eyes, the world around you disappearing completely. It’s just you; even Jungkook disappears, which is kind of new. But then, a strong heartbeat echoes, reminding you that you’re not alone. There’s still your baby, the one growing inside you. His heartbeat had never been this strong. This is also new.

Slowly, you feel the heartbeat growing stronger while this protective aura grows as well. Then, it hits you. It is your baby boy. Your baby boy is protecting you. How is that even possible? Jungkook’s mother never mentioned anything about this. Did she forget? How could she? She had four kids.

Instinctively, your hands move to your stomach as if you’re trying to tell your son that you feel him. That you know it’s him.

You open your eyes again; they take back their blue and wolfish appearance. Jungkook is standing in front of you, worry written all over his face.

“It’s him,” you mumble while grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and placing it over your belly.

As his hand touches you, he instantly feels the power radiating from the baby, and it’s something unlike anything he’s ever encountered in his life. His entire body tenses as he feels this raw strength.

“How can it be?” he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t know,” you answer. “Nobody mentioned this.”

His breath stutters, and before he can suppress it, his wolf surges forward in response. His red eyes flash to the surface, instinct reacting to the sheer force of what he’s feeling. Jungkook exhales sharply, his fingers pressing harder against your stomach, but he’s still making sure not to hurt you.

“This is new,” he admits.

Jungkook had never felt anything like it. Not even from full-grown wolves at their strongest. And this… this is coming from someone who hasn’t even been born yet. He really doesn’t understand this. Is it related to the fact that you’re a hybrid? Is it related to the fact that he belongs to two different packs? Or is he simply a powerful werewolf? He will definitely do some research to understand this.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus, but your son's energy stirs something primal inside him. His wolf blood reacts to it, unable to resist and ignore your son's undeniable presence.

“He’s strong,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. He looks at you, then back down at your belly. “Really strong. I’ve never felt something like this.”

Jungkook is left with so many questions. Did his parents feel something like that during each pregnancy? Did even his sister feel this? For sure, he never felt anything this powerful whenever his sister would put his hand on her stomach.

For the first time since feeling it, his lips curve into a slow, almost disbelieving smirk.

“God help us and anybody else when he’s born.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you answer. “I’m sure Alphas are stronger than him.”

“Believe me, sunshine,” he retorts. “I can’t even tame my wolf side, and I’ve been in control of that side for many years.”

You seem not to fully believe him, thinking he’s likely overacting because it’s his son. But one thing is sure, your baby son is strong. That’s something you don’t doubt at all. And it leaves you wondering how it will be once he’s born.

Jungkook kneels down, his fingers pushing your shirt up before pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

“Seems like you’re a powerful little boy,” he whispers to your son. “And it excites me even more to meet you.”

A smile spreads across your face as you watch him talking to your baby. Jungkook does this at least twice a day, in the morning and the evening, and it’s the cutest thing in the world. The obstetrician informed you that the baby’s father should talk to him every day so he’ll recognize his father’s voice by the time he’s born.

“I already love you so so much, my little man,” he presses another kiss.

He presses his forehead lightly against your stomach, eyes closed as he absorbs every pulse of energy radiating from your son. He smiles as he feels it, knowing that it’s the baby reacting to his voice. To his father’s voice. You watch Jungkook in awe. This fierce and formidable man surrenders to something so small yet already so mighty.

After a moment, a little chuckle escapes his lips, and he glances up at you. You furrow your brows, wondering what is going through his mind and why he’s chuckling.

“I hope he doesn’t give us too much trouble,” he says, his hot breath caressing your stomach and sending shivers down your spine. “Something tells me he’s going to be a handful.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?” you smirk, tilting your head.

Jungkook gives you a pointed look, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist as he slowly rises to his feet. His hand pushes down your shirt to cover your baby bump while his red and wolfish eyes take back their brown and human form.

“Well, for one, he’s your son,” he teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “Which means he’s going to be stubborn, unpredictable, and impossible to handle when he sets his mind on something.”

“Excuse me? As if you’re any better,” you gently hit his chest.

Jungkook lets out a deep laugh, his arms circling around you as he pulls you close, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Fair point,” he whispers. “Which means we’re doomed.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but deep down, you know he’s right. Your son isn’t even born yet, and he’s already proving to be strong. The thought sends a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation rushing through you. Sensing your emotions, Jungkook tightens his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“But no matter how strong he is,” he reassures you, his voice quieter now, “he’s ours. And we’ll figure it out together.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you nod, resting your head against his chest. You know that no matter what happens, you’ll have Jungkook by your side. You won’t be facing anything alone, and honestly, you don’t want it any other way.

Today, you wonder how things would have turned out if the clinic had never told you about the mistake. Most probably, you would have never met Jungkook, and you would be dealing with this crazy pregnancy by yourself. You also wonder if things would have been the same if Jungkook wasn’t the father of your baby.

If you got inseminated by the donor you chose, would the pregnancy have awoken all your wolf abilities? That’s something you’ll never know, but you’re grateful that things went this way because you got to discover yourself.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Together.”

Jungkook’s mother and sister, together with her kids, are here to pay you a little visit. Since you’ve gotten to meet his family, you’ve grown closer to them. Most of them were a bit skeptical at first due to your nature, but they saw you beyond it. You’re a person, just like them, and you also are a werewolf. His mother actually loves you; she can spend hours with you, and you love spending some time with her. She’s been helping you a lot with the pregnancy.

“I’ve done some research about this whole hybrid law,” his mother informs you while you watch Jungkook holding his youngest nephew.

His nephew, Taemin, is only seven weeks old. He’s so tiny but so adorable, and Jungkook loves to be around him. It’s like he’s preparing himself before your son finally joins you. He turns around to look at his mother when she speaks.

“Why?” he furrows.

“I was intrigued,” she explains. “We all followed the rule so blindly, and we never truly wondered why.”

“Not everyone,” he points out.

She nods, remembering that her husband and son didn’t really follow the rule. All because of you. But today, she’s glad they didn’t.

“In your father’s personal library, I first found a book explaining the reasons behind each rule in our world,” she begins. “The reasons for the hybrid law weren’t really clear, but they implied that a king put it in place due to a threat. I wasn’t really convinced by this explanation because it didn’t make any sense. So, I kept looking.”

You and Jungkook are listening very closely to what she’s saying. You’re intrigued to discover what she found out.

“Eventually, I came across an ancient book,” she continues. “A book written by one of your ancestors, King Yisun. In it, he relates that he had a friend who could apparently see the future. This friend foresaw that one day, a powerful ‘mixed’ werewolf would rise to become king. By ‘mixed’, he meant half-human and half-werewolf.”

She pauses, letting the weight of that revelation settle in.

“King Yisun feared that such a werewolf would pose a threat to his reign, so he took drastic measures. He outlawed unions between werewolves and humans, ensuring that no hybrid could ever be born. And to further protect the throne, he decreed that only members of the Blood’s Pack could be part of the royal bloodline.”

“So, you’re saying that a king out of paranoia or fear or whatever decided to ban hybrids?” Dohee, Jungkook’s sister, says.

“That’s what it seems like.”

Even though it might sound crazy, King Yisun lived centuries ago. The world was completely different. What seemed like a threat back then isn’t one anymore. He feared for himself and his reign and did what he could to protect that. However, this law killed a lot of people, your parents included.

“Well, today, it sounds like a very stupid decision, but we can’t forget that King Yisun reigned in the 16th century. He did what he thought was best for himself,” Jungkook begins. “But the most foolish people were the kings that came after and maintained that law without even knowing why.”

You couldn’t agree more with him. For King Yisun, it made sense to create this rule, but for the others after, it didn’t. Most of them didn’t know why this rule was made but still kept it. It’s such an outdated rule. The irony is that the friend was right after all. Your son, a ‘mixed’ werewolf, will one day become a king. Your son will be the first king to carry human blood. He’ll be the first one not to be a hundred percent a werewolf.

“In the end, King Yisun’s friend was right,” Dohee says with a smile on her face. “A mixed werewolf will be king, but only centuries later.”

Jungkook smiles while he looks at you. He looks damn great with a child in his arms, and this will be a vision that you’ll daily have very soon. Father Jungkook looks great on him.

“Indeed,” you reply.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, his eyes still on yours. “I don’t think King Yisun could ever imagine how powerful that hybrid would be.”

His mother and sister look at him, confusion written all over their faces.

“What do you mean?” his mother asks as she frowns.

“Can we tell them?” he asks you through thoughts.

You nod, silently encouraging him to go on. They should know about it. Maybe they can even help you understand this better. Maybe they will even tell you that Jungkook is wrong. At least, that’s what you want to believe. He lets out a slow breath before speaking again.

“I can already feel him,” he says, his voice quieter. “Not just in the way any expecting father would. I mean, I can feel him. His presence, his power. And it’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.”

“Wait… are you saying…” Dohee blinks.

Her eyes go from you to Jungkook, and you both nod, confirming what she thinks.

“He’s still in the womb, and yet his power is strong enough to stir my wolf. The other day, yn could feel him protecting her, and when I touched her stomach, it hit me so intensely that I could barely contain myself. My eyes changed without even realizing it.”

His mother seems extremely confused and surprised.

“I know we can feel babies when they’re still in the womb. I mean, I experienced it with you, Dohee, but this was very much different.”

“Maybe we can try to do what we did the other day so you can see for yourselves,” you suggest to his mother and sister.

They both nod, more than eager to experience your son’s power firsthand.

“Okay, then let’s do it,” Jungkook answers.

Your boyfriend places his nephew in the crib while you stand up. Once the baby is lying down, Jungkook walks in your direction. He stands tall in front of you, his mother and sister very close to you.

“Imagine again, Yuna threatening you and our son. Imagine her being here, angry as hell.”

You close your eyes, seeing her face all over again. You don’t really like this, but man, if you can feel your baby’s warmth again, it’ll be worth it. Jisoo and Dohee look closely at you, understanding that you’re trying to tame your emotions and the wolf inside you. You take deep breaths, your mind focusing on not losing control.

You can feel the first signs of the transformation, your claws growing in your hands, and you know your eyes have taken their wolf aspect. Slowly, you sense, for the second time, the power radiating from within you. A warmth spreads inside you, like it’s trying to protect you from the outside world. However, this time around, the protective aura makes you blend into your background.

“It’s him,” you tell them. “He made me disappear.”

A smile grows on your face while your hands snail down to caress your stomach.

“It’s okay, my wolfy,” you whisper to your baby. “Nobody is going to hurt us.”

Although you wish to reappear so they can all feel your son’s strong energy, this is him protecting you. This isn’t up to you. It’s up to him. But as you gently stroke your stomach trying to reassure your baby, you slowly get back into vision. Instantly, your hand grabs Jisoo’s hand to place it on your stomach.

“Oh,” she says with evident surprise.

Then, Jungkook and Dohee also place their hands on your bump. They feel it too, the strong energy coming from inside you. The three of them struggle to contain their wolf side, their eyes turning red. You smile because damn, this little kid is already so so powerful, and it’s your son. You couldn’t be prouder.

His mother inhales sharply, her lips parting slightly as she’s definitely struggling to tame her wolf side. The energy your son is giving off stirs something primal inside the three of them. Their wolf bloods react to it, unable to resist and ignore your son's undeniable presence.

“This is not normal,” she finally says. “Not even Alphas can do that before birth.”

“Woow,” Dohee says. “I’ve never met someone so powerful. Let alone someone that isn’t even born yet. How is it for you?” her red eyes meet your blue ones.

“It feels like someone is placing a warm blanket around me, like someone is trying to protect me from the outside world. It feels extremely powerful, but in a good way,” you explain.

“And if he’s this powerful now, imagine what he’ll be like when he’s born,” his mother says before she removes her hand.

Dohee lets out a low whistle, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Damn, no wonder King Yisun was terrified of a hybrid becoming king. If your son is already radiating power before even taking his first breath…” she trails off, clearly stunned.

His mother, however, remains silent for a moment, deep in thought. She sits down on the couch, trying to understand what she just experienced. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at her lips.

“Then maybe,” she says softly, “he’s exactly what this kingdom has always needed.”

“What could be the reason?” Dohee wonders. “I mean, he’s already mixed from being a child of the Bloods and the Shadows. There are millions of mixed werewolves, and they never were this powerful. And on top of that, he carries human blood.”

“Yn and him are the first hybrids. We know nothing about them, so we’re discovering everything through them,” Jungkook begins. “Maybe human blood only makes them stronger and not weaker.” Well, you don’t know what makes your son so special, but one thing is for sure. You are already so proud and so in love with him.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined: chapter 9 #bloodlines entwined #spideyjimin

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moonchild1 · 2 years ago

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jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬ DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it?

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you.

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury.

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money.

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need.

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man.

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you.

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

5K notes · View notes

cuteandhughesy · 5 months ago

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Oh Baby! ╰┈➤ JS1

summary: going into labour during a hockey game was definitely not in your and jeremy’s itinerary—but you aren’t about to let that stop you from having this damn baby with your boyfriend at your side.

[word count] 2.0k

warnings: SFW! pre-established relationship | pregnancy | mentions of labour and childbirth | suggestive dialogue and scenes | read at your own discretion

a/n: based loosely off this request! I changed it a little bit for the story to flow the way I seemed fit—so I hope you love it ✨ the valentines fic will be a one night stand (sorta ;) moment with vince dunn…so get ready.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you shouldn't of acted so naive. at 37 and a half weeks pregnant, you were in the early stages of labour—and you have been since 2 a.m. it started as the dullest pain, one that was easily brushed off as an awkward sleeping position and a little bit of gas, but as the early morning came, it progressed into a proper pull—like the sensation of a period cramp.

you ignored it, hiding the sensation that came in waves every hour or two with a smile on your face, letting your boyfriend cook you breakfast (pancakes because for your entire pregnancy the thought of anything else made you queasy), and make your favourite decaf ice coffee.

as the evening came closer, jeremey waking from his pre-game nap to begin getting ready—a part of you knew that you were in labour. but another part of your brain was in denial. you're not due yet, the baby clothes haven't even been put away, your parents are still a state over. that's the part of your brain that had you pushing everything away. you were just a little uncomfortable. everything is fine—you're not in labour yet.

your boyfriend stumbles down the hallway, tie hung loose around his neck as he rubs sleep from his eye. your eyes shift to clock above the tv, it's almost 5 p.m. meaning he’s just getting ready to head out to TD garden.

jeremy leans over the back of the couch, hands on either side of your shoulders as he kisses your head. "hey baby."

you hum just as a sharp pain shoots across your impossibly large belly, and you wince. jeremy pauses, rounding the couch until he standing in front of you. "what's wrong?"

you smile, although it's not as wide or bright as your usual one. "nothing." you don't give jermey a chance to question you further, holding out your hands so he can help you off the couch. "just sitting on my foot funny is all."

he doesn't look all too convinced, but thankfully he doesn't interrogate you like he's desperate to do—pulling you off the couch like the 20 pounds on your belly is nothing to him, like you're still only 10 pounds or something. which is nice, because your boyfriend can still make you feel dainty. you love him so much.

at this stage in your pregnancy, jeremy knows better than to question you, especially when you're insisting that everything is fine. so he stays as quiet as he can manage—unless he wants his balls ripped clean off.

once you're standing, jeremy sends you a soft smile. "okay baby, if you're sure." he says quietly, hands resting on the sides of your belly as he leans down and gives you a gentle, sincere kiss. it has your belly swooping pleasantly for the first time today, making you sigh against your boyfriends mouth like it's the first time you’ve been kissed. your heart rate increases even more than usual as jeremy’s thumbs swipe alone your squished ribs, and you feel like you’re on cloud 9.

it seems that the baby agrees, tiny body rolling around in your belly like it's a ride—but soon enough there's a hard kick against your side, followed by another wave of pinching pain. you pull away from the kiss, brows pulling in discomfort.

you don’t want jeremy to ask again, or worry. so you mask the pain by fiddling with jeremy's tie, looping it around itself. "you look handsome in this colour."

jeremy's brows pull questionably, analyzing your seemingly calm face. he sighs gently, just as your nimble fingers finish with his now perfectly knotted tie. "thanks."

another sharp pain shoots across your lower belly, wrapping around your back and shooting down to your pelvis. now you're getting worried—what if something is wrong? what if you're actually in labour? but once again, you're doubting yourself. maybe you're just overreacting. the last thing you want is to pull jeremy from a game because of braxton hicks contractions.

you already feel guilty about having being pregnant during the height of the nhl season—never mind when the baby actually gets here and jeremy is up with you all hours of the night. the least you can do right now is let him play in peace.

it's a few more minutes before your boyfriend is slipping into his dress shoes, kissing your lips once more by the front door before heading to the rink—leaving you and your reeling mind behind.

anxiously, you pace around the house in any attempt to be busy and distract yourself. you put away these few dishes left in the drying rack from breakfast, set jeremy's laundry going, and you even double check the hospital bag—just in case.

your pain is getting increasingly worse, and the contractions you've been experiencing since the early morning are now only 7 minutes apart. it was undeniable now, you're most definitely in labour.

before you totally panic, you send a rather frantic text to danielle coyle, listing your symptoms and contractions times. her response was simple: get to the damn hospital baby mama.

you're going to have a baby. today. suddenly you don’t feel prepared, or ready to have a baby in the house. you’re scared. immediately you start crying, hands shaking and tears blurring your vision as you attempt to look down at your phone screen—danielle’s message starting back at you…taunting you.

your knees feel weak, and it has you pushing yourself to walk over to your exercise ball, sitting down to relive some of the pressure on not only your knees, but pelvis and back as well. you wipe your tear filled eyes, pulling up jermey's contact and hitting the call button before you pass out from anxiety.

unfortunately you're not one of those wags who wants their boyfriend to stay blissfully unaware of labour—as much as you wish you were. you are scared, and in pain, and you need him. now. it could be game 7 of the playoffs and you’d still want jeremy with you.

he picks up on the first ring—he must have his phone connected to his bluetooth today. "what's wrong?" jeremy questions, and you can practically hear the way his face is scrunched in concern. the sound of his car can be heard in the background of the call, meaning he hasn't gotten to the arena yet. thank god.

"jer..." you sniffle, a loud sob wracking through your body. "I-I think-the baby's coming."

despite your wobbly words and borderline hyperventilating, jeremy knows exactly what you’re saying. his breath hitches, and immediately he’s pulling off the road and into some bank parking lot. "I knew something was wrong, honey. are you okay?" jeremy flicks his turn signal on before pulling back out onto the road, back in the direction of home—of you.

"I just want you home." you admit timidly, voice laced with emotion and fear. "i'm sorry that i'm only just telling you...I didn't know what to do."

jeremy sighs, naturally picking up speed until he's borderline breaking the law. "don't apologize, okay. i'll be there soon."

"wait," you cry, hips swivelling on the ball as your pelvis tightens uncomfortably. "please don't hang up."

jeremy's lips pull down at the sheer panic in your voice. he almost feels guilty for biting his tongue today, especially when he saw how much pain you’ve been in since you brushed your teeth together this morning. regardless, he’s happy you’re calling him now rather than after you’re already starting to push. "baby, i've gotta call work. but I promise i'll be home very soon, and if i'm done the call before I get there, i'll call you back."

after a a tiny and sad okay from you, he hangs up, instantly dialing his coach's number. thankfully, joe sacco picks up on the second ring, "jeremy? everything okay?"

"actually joe," he starts, an inevitable smile growing on his face. "y/n is in labour."

much to your relief, jeremy is walking back through the front door only 8 minutes after your phone call ended—slightly breathless and eyes wide—but he’s here. jeremy’s eyes land upon you, still rolling your hips on the hot pink exercise ball, breathing deeply through contractions.

you had just stopped crying, but as soon as jeremy looks at you, the tears start up again. he rushes towards you, holding your face delicately. "hey....hey what's wrong? why are you crying?"

you look like a wreck. hair still not brushed, snot running out of your nose like a faucet while tears stream down your cheeks—not yet out of your pyjamas because for the past month, just getting out of bed was a chore, never mind having to dress the huge stomach attached to you. stupid athletes and their giant babies.

"i'm scared." you tell him, your own hands wrapping around jeremy's wrists to keep him close to you. "ugh! having a baby is scary, jer!"

"it's going to be okay." he chuckles quietly, bringing you into his chest for a hug. and you go easily, falling into the comfort of jeremy's hug while your muscles contract tightly, making your face pull inward, forming a scowl. "you're doing so good already." he praises, words tickling your hairline.

you whine in discomfort, and like he learned in labour&delivery classes, jeremy starts pushing against your hips, reliving some of the pain and pressure on your pelvis. you exhale shakily, eyes flickering up to your boyfriends warm gaze.

there's a small smile on his face despite the nerves he feels in his stomach, because despite all the anxiety and unknown thoughts about having a baby, there’s the upmost excitement about becoming parents that jeremy just can’t not smile about. your eyes say what your mouth can't, a conversation shared just between your and jeremy's locked gazes. it's time.

"you ready to have our baby?"

soon enough your both in the car, hospital bags packed in the back seat and jeremy's hand on your thigh, stroking your skin over your sleep wear as you breathe through intense contractions and pressure.

you're pretty sure the hockey channel is playing through the radio—you can take the man out of the game. the broadcasters begin taking about the absence of the usual bruins goaltender, speculating about his sudden absence, and that's when you reach over and turn it off. the last thing you need is to feel more guilt about having a hockey season baby.

and as if jeremy can sense that, he squeezes your leg and shoots you a look. "there's nowhere i'd rather be right now, baby. okay? we're almost there."

"okay." you breathe, your hand finding his and interlocking your fingers together. "love you."

"love you."

you're quickly ushered into a private room once you check in at the hospital, nurses fussing and checking you over—hooking you up to various machines and getting the room ready for a delivery.

you're 8 centimetres dilated, which isn't surprising considering how long you've been labouring—almost 16 hours now. jeremy is truly your rock through the entire thing, and when it's time to start pushing, he's in full support mode. kissing your head, whispering words of encouragement and holding your leg up while you cry and scream, delivering your baby like it's second nature—which technically, it is.

after exactly 42 minutes of pushing, you give birth to your and jeremy's baby boy. you'll never forgot the way having your new baby placed on your chest feels, and the love that consumed you looking into his brown eyes…the same eyes as jeremy. it was other worldy.

jeremy's eyes watered at the sight, kissing both you and his son in the softest, most precious way. he’s never felt more complete—more hole—than looking at the sight of your baby in your arms. shaky arms covered in various patches and IVs.

you know the next little while will be a great learning curve. between adding a baby into the mix, the hockey schedule and the half painted nursery back at home, adjusting to your new life will surely be a little difficult to get used to.

but you're so damn excited to learn, and even more so that jeremy will be learning with you.

yourusername is with jeremyswayman1

liked by daniellegcoyle, bmarch63 and others

yourusername he’s here 🩵

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strandedtoodeep · 8 months ago

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Poolverine fics rec' ✨

Yes, FINALLY.

So, basically what the title said: some poolverine's fics recommendation because i have 150+ bookmarks and sharing is caring so let's go!

I'll put title, link, tag the author (if they are on tumblr), numbers of words & chapters and probably silly summary or thoughts

I'll be adding some in the future with a red exclamation❗

The ones without smut have a bunny emoji 🐰

My faves are on top

If you have some recs i'm happy to take them thank you 🤲

Faves

Come Hell or High Water by @farmhandler 84k, 11 ch. || love when a fic take mental health seriously and talk about it in a way that feel so right? (bonus the smut is *chef's kiss*

Promise Me We'll Be Back In Time by @back4destiel 108k, 17 ch. || 50 First Dates was one of my favorite movie when i was a preteen (yeah) so this fic fill me with nostalgia and happiness

where soul meets body by @edgebug 33k, 3 ch. || one of my first poolverine's fic and it sets the bar so HIGH (and tbh i cried so much reading it, it's concerning)

silence is what i do best (but still i hear it all) by @cainroses 25k, 3 ch. || feral! logan is very dear to me and the character's voices in it?? absolutely delightful (beware the smut is very good but spicy)

Until you get sick of me, honestly by @3koboldsinahoodie 151k, 27ch. (on going) || i love it so much i want to forget it and discovers it again, the peak of two idiots in love it's beautiful

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) by @wickedscribbles 16k, 4 ch. || love some genderplay, bottom and protective logan, my dear, i love it but most importantly the writings is scrumptious

The Void by @rovingotter 115k, 23 ch. || i'm still trying to process what i feel with this fic, please please read this blindly and i assure you, you'll never be the same

The Soundtrack by @greatsnakestintin 43k, 15 ch. (on going) || love a good road trip fic, love music so it's absolutely perfect for me! and the plot is so?? fascinating???

Kaleidoscope by Space_wanderer 79k, 14 ch. || CHAPPELL ROAN REFERENCE! when Logan is such a idiot Wade need to go get him AGAIN in his universe

Don't you want me to run? by @decaying-lover 89k, 26 ch. (on going) || if you love angst, this fic will serve you ANGST! love their dynamics, the tension, their voices, everything

❗Maximum Effort by ArtemisFAYZ012 168k, 33 ch. || OMG the plot?? the spicy spices?? the intimacy between Logan and Wade (AND Logan who falls so HARD for Wade)

On going

Somewhere I belong by @terrasilvershade 24k, 6ch. || another girls dad AU but this one, my god!!! the feels?? it's so interesting to see Logan being envious and it's writing so well

❗Do I Wanna Know by @slut-arc 13k, 5ch. || a 5+1 fic! It's cute and fluffy but also with sparkles of angst, and the ice skating scene??? didn't leave my mind for days ugh

Baby(girl) Don't Hurt Me by @peargreen-jellybean 16k, series with 4 works || 4 fics and i love them all! some good poolverine pining & domestic bliss + men in lingeries (my weakness)

❗Under Your Skin, Over the Moon by RatFlavored 5k, 2 ch. || first Soulmate AU i read for Poolverine and i love it??? So much??? think this trope is underrated ngl, and it's well written!

In Another Life by @flash-bastardd 32k, 10 ch. || x-men origins but better! (bc it's gay) i have some feelings with this movie but this fic healed me and i love it!

❗don't i give you what you need by @wickedscribbles 5k, 2 ch. || i cannot not put the new work of Wicked here, it's so good and the heartbreak??? the angst??? my heart bleed so much for them

call me when you’re ready to be real by @maroonmused 23k, 9 ch. || "and they were roommates" ofc like it's not absolutely obvious for EVERYONE except themself; a very good domestic bliss!

❗Echoes Through the Timeline by @piplover 64k, series with 4 works || i loved so many works in this series, specially the first and last one, break my heart and heal my soul

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by @fictionfeast 59k, 4 ch. || this fic feels like a fever dream, but a OH SO GOOD and well writing fever dream! (ngl as a french person Craig List scares me)

❗🐰 unhappy man syndrome by @gossippool 19k, 5 ch. || don't know if i'll recover from this fic, ever, but i'm so invested and it's pure whump all over (HUG FOR EVERYONE YALL)

❗Got My Mind Set On You by @buttsforabettertomorrow 23k, 4 ch. || Logan try so hard to be good and accepting in this one i love him so much lmao (and it confuses Wade so it's a double win)

🐰 Christmas in Canada by @thatoneartyishperson 7k, 3 ch. || listen, Halloween is still my favorite holidays but Poolverine AU Hallmark Christmas Movies ? URGH i'm here for it!!

❗back to the old house by @nico-di-angelol 71k, 8ch. || it's so interesting that i'm MAD at myself for not reading this earlier, yep it's THAT good! beware chap. 7 will break your heart

Synergy and Entropy by @artemis-pendragon 46k, 19 ch. || i was so sure that i'd put this fic here but no??? anyways, the hurt and angst in this fic are so astronomically good, so beware

❗🐰 Mr. Forgettable by @eliemo 40k, 7 ch. || okaaayy listen, this one make me cry every time i read it, idk how to explain why it feel so personal to me but it'll move you

🐰 make me into something sweet by @mothgardens 30k, 8 ch. || AU poolverine WITH MUSICAL CLASS? it's... it's beautiful! particularly love the dynamic between Logan and Wade in this one

❗knee deep in this thing called life by @secondbreakfastwizard 86k, 13 ch. || i'm so OBSESSED with this fic, autistic Logan is so dear to me (maybe bc i relate a lot) and these two are so stupidly in love

Complete

🐰 the dollhouse by @kanashikute 4k, OS || love the fluffiness in this fic, love how Logan accept to love, be loved and doesn't left Wade behind UGH they're so cute in this one!!!

❗Pavlov’s Dog by @panties-on-boys 18k, 11 ch. || this is the kind of fiction that obsesses me so much, and i don't even like perfume; it's the most smutty slow burn ever hehe

Girl Dads by @starburstsobsessions 40k, 16 ch. || AU poolverine's fic are fire and this one, THIS ONE, omg! this fic makes my dream (aka seeing dilf! logan) a reality

🐰 Glass Shards by greaserbabes 9k, 2 ch. || always love when Logan and Wade are SO STUPIDLY in love; ngl the scene with the glass shards make me cry every time

You Should Feel My Nature Too by sterlingstars 10k, OS || so uh, i love stripper! Wade okay? it's not really that with this one but it's as good AND wholesome (and spicy too) so yeah

🐰 The Folly Of Playing Gay Chicken Too Hard (Phrasing) by GayLord3000 3k, OS || the domestic fic where Wade is the stupid one, being so stupid in fact it's nearly cost him his relationship with Logan whoops

Love shot by lillygoeson 28k, 6ch. || another bartender! Logan one, but AU no powers AND with a good "twist" in the middle; this fic is so bittersweet and good oml

Don't Want To Be A Fool For You by @cuntylogan 96k, 5 ch. || bartender! Logan who try to fight his addiction (and slowly fall in love) has a special place in my heart, you go boy

❗🐰 This Old House by @twentyghosts 30k, 16 ch. || AU with patient! Wade and handyman! Logan, they fall in love, it's full of angst, fluff, hurt, and with a very cute ending

look at you by @weedwilson 3k, OS || yes it's shameless smut and mirror sex, my beloved... and I LOVE when Logan worshipping Wade this much bc he deserves it

❗🐰 Is It Casual Now? by @twilightkitkat 6k, OS || love this bc i have so many feelings about how the X-Men have treated Logan, i love seeing him stand up for himself **sob**

It's Just Chemistry by @farmhandler 37k, 5 ch. || in the same universe of Come Hell or High Water, there is so... so much angst but it's very good angst!!! still love this specific dynamic

🐰 We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by @nikaandtea 8k, OS || HOZIER REFERENCE! i'm still so happy when a fic talk about chronic pain combined with domestic bliss i'm totally sold

Night Terrors by educatedwish 50k, 13 ch. || love how Logan is written is this fic, how PTSD messed with his feelings in a serious way... my heart melt every time i read it

❗🐰 Relationship Advice by fir_forest 1k, OS || no but the idea of a fic like a relationship advice post on reddit??? i love this!! short, but sweet and very funny hehe

second nature to me now by @edgebug 36k, OS || a investigation in a gay club??? with my two idiots in love?? and with old gay Logan? i giggled so hard reading this, i LOVE IT

🐰 It Feels Like Home by @twentyghosts 10k, 6 ch. || one of my favorite trope is the 5+1 and this one... my god, right in the feels! so much fluffiness, coziness, it warm my heart

a loaded gun, can't contain this anymore (i'm all yours, i've got no control) by @obihoebikenobi 6k, OS || i have nothing to say other than read the tag hehe! but yeah love the concept, the smut is spicy (always like some focus on the claws)

🐰 stuck by the glue (oh and you) by prngslvr 3k, OS || a good rewriting of (some scenes) from DP&W, and one of my first fluff and non-smut fic that i read after watching the movie!

Let Me Get Back to You by RatFlavored 14k, 2 ch. || pls i want to read more fics with phone sex in it (i know it's specific) but in the meantime, this one is SO good (and full of feels too)

❗Heat of the Moment by @finelydressedspacemen 11k, 4 ch. || non traditional a/b/o my beloved!!! and it's always a little bit satisfying to see Scott mentioned (hehehe the drama)

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by signifier 10k, OS || i have a thing for time loop and this kind of fuckery, it's short but good and i love the title it make me chuckles

🐰 Take Me Through the Darkness to the Break of the Day by The_Colour_Yellow 17k, 10 ch. || a very good fic around hanahaki disease with my two favorites idiots??? sign me in! even with so much hurt and angst UGH

Oh, God, I Think I'm Fallin' by @slut-arc 15k, 5 ch. || the return of domestic poolverine and YES I KNOW but it's my weakness... and Logan is so emotionally constipated it's concerning

🐰 Little Reflection by @wickedscribbles 11k, 5ch. || poolverine + cute cat + Logan suffering from anxiety and i'm sold! because ofc Logan is a true and pure cat (and dog) dad

❗i bet we’d have really good come right on me, i mean camaraderie by @notesappwitch 31k, 2 ch. || bodyswap trope, love the character's voice bc it's so on point, very funny, a lot of emotions and the spicy scenes are perfect

the bucket list by @kanashikute 33k, 4 ch. || read this one, please, really, it's so bittersweet BUT i promise there's a good ending (and i cried so much while reading it)

🐰 he’s the headlights, I’m the deer by NatalieK 7k, OS || it's interesting to see Logan's losing his healing factor for once instead of Wade! and seeing Wade taking care of him, my heart

when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor? by @slut-for-a-good-latte 5k, OS || one of my favorite thing with poolverine is psychic/quantum thingy bond because of the Time Ripper and this one DELIVERS!!

🐰 holding out for a hero by @splinnters 6k, 3 ch. || once again, i have a soft spot for Logan trusting Wade so much he called him when something is wrong and this, THIS is good

❗it's all in my head but i want nonfiction by @obihoebikenobi 21k, 3 ch. || Wade pinning x Logan perfectly happy in his relationship with his boyfriend who doesn't know he's his boyfriend it's perfect

🐰 I've got some color back (he thinks so too) by @mid13s 3k, OS || just a short fic with non-sexual intimacy because these two need comfort, hugs and a lot of affection (and the Hozier reference is chef's kiss)

who are you, really? by @edgebug 45k, 4 ch. || the sequel of where soul meets body and it's also an absolutely masterpiece! and still trying to process my feelings for this fic

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadclaws #wolverine #deadpool #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #poolverine fic #poolverine fics #poolverine fanfiction #poolverine ao3 #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #my faves #fanfic rec #fanfiction recommendation

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lyjen · 20 days ago

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Nothing Happened | Eddie Diaz

Summary: Eddie and (Y/n) have been close friends for a long time, but a tough call leaves her struggling and pulling away from the team. Eddie watches her shut everyone out, his worry builds until one night, when he finally confronts her, and the truth slips out before he can stop it.

Trigger warnings: Injuries, death, panic attacks, emotional breakdown, grief, mentions of PTSD.

Trope: Friends to lovers | Request

Request status: OPEN ✨

Word count: 9.1k

9-1-1 Masterlist | Eddie Diaz Masterlist | Next Chapter >>>

GIF by @texasbama

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

The sun was dipping low, casting the rooftop in a warm orange glow. A soft breeze blew over the edge of the building, rustling the edges of coffee cups and folding chair covers. It was one of those rare moments where there were no drills, no calls, just some breathing room for the first responders.

A small circle of folding chairs had been dragged together on the roof top. Hen, Buck, Chim, Eddie, and Bobby were already there, mugs in hand, all of them nursing half-finished drinks. Some had coffee. That was one of the things that couldn’t be missed on a twentyfour hour shift. Others had tea, and some had hot cocoa.

The rooftop smelled like asphalt, sun-warmed metal, and distant city smoke. But it was calm. For now. Just a moment of rest.

The metal door creaked open behind them. (Y/n) stepped out, buttoning her navy shirt with one hand, her other arm still damp from a rushed cleanup job. Her hair was pulled back quickly, a few strands were stuck to her cheek. She looked exhausted, but there was still a spark in her eye, the same one that always appeared when she was near her team.

Hen lifted her hand as soon as she saw her. “I kept it warm for you,” she said, passing over a ceramic mug as (Y/n) reached the circle. She sent Hen a small smile, “You’re an angel,” (Y/n) whispered, taking it with both hands and sinking into the empty seat beside her.

“Alright,” Buck started, grinning with that mischievous gleam he got right before asking something dumb. “Important question.” he said as he moved in his chair. “Uh-oh,” Hen said as she had both of her hands wrapped around her cup and blew some air onto the beverage.

Buck ignored Hen, his eyes aimed on (Y/n). “If we were in a horror movie, who do you think would die first?” he asked, dead serious. Without even blinking or even taking a moment to think about the question, (Y/n) took a sip and said, “Oh, definitely you.”

The group cracked up immediately. “Wow.” Buck placed a hand over his heart. “You didn’t even hesitate.” he continued as he pretended to be hurt by her comment.

She smirked into her mug. “I’ve seen you walk into active scenes without a plan and three Red Bulls in your system. You’d hear a chainsaw in the basement and be like, ‘Guys, I got this.’” she shrugged her shoulders as if it was the easiest question in the world.

“Tragic,” Chim added. “But it's true.”

“She’s right, y’know.” Eddie’s voice came low and smooth from the other side of the circle. He was leaning back into his chair, as he had his mug resting on his thigh, one hand wrapped around it, and the other arm leaning onto the armrest.

He hadn’t said much all afternoon. But now he spoke, and he was looking at (Y/n) when he did.

She turned her head toward him, one brow raised, lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. “And you’d be the guy who disappears halfway through the movie,” she teased, “then comes back covered in blood with some dark secret and zero explanation.” she said as she took another sip of her drink.

Eddie gave a half-smile. “But I’d survive.” he said as he was focussed on the mug, still resting on his knee, and glanced briefly at (Y/n) again.

Buck rolled his eyes and sighed. “Would everyone stop assuming I’d be the dumb one?”

“You’d trip over your own sarcasm,” Hen muttered.

“You’d try to flirt with the killer,” Chim added.

“Oh come on—” Buck choked on his words as he got cut off by Hen again.

“You did once ask a witness if they had plans after giving their statement,” Hen reminded him.

“That was different—she was alive!” Buck tried to defend himself.

Laughter filled the air again. (Y/n) laughed too, warm and bright, her cheeks slightly becoming a bit more red as she laughed and when she glanced back at Eddie, it lingered. Her smile, her eyes, the soft twitch at the corner of his mouth that showed he was watching her reaction more than anything else.

Bobby laughed with them but didn’t say a word. He sat slightly off to the side, mug cradled loosely in one hand. He didn’t chime in, he was just observing.

His gaze traveled from Eddie… to (Y/n)… and back again. Not judging. Just quietly reading the current in the space between them.

"By the way," Chim said, squinting at (Y/n)'s shirt as the light caught the faint stain near her waist, "either you lost a battle with the laundry machine or you're starting a new trend in uniform destruction."

(Y/n) glanced down, exhaling sharply. “Some guy threw up on me earlier. He missed the stretcher, but he didn’t miss me.” she explained. A collective groan sounded over the roof top.

“And they say this job isn’t glamorous.” Hen muttered.

Buck made a face. “You didn’t change?”

“I figured it was either deal with it or miss out on Hen’s pity tea.” she said, leaning back slightly. “And I wanted to be up here before you started emotionally spiraling because Hen knew more about serial killers than you did.” (Y/n) said, as Hen lifted her mug in salute.

“You know you’re the one who chooses this life,” Eddie said casually, eyes still on her. “Yeah,” she muttered with a smirk, “but nowhere in the job description did it say ‘projectile vomit magnet.’”

The group chuckled again, but just then, the bell rang, disturbing the peace and quiet. The calm shattered as the station-wide tones kicked in, the shrill pitch of the alert echoing up through the roof speakers.

Everyone moved at once. Mugs were being set down in an instant and the sound of chairs that were being scraped back mixed with the sound of the alarm.

The wail of sirens faded as Hen eased the ambulance to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires just outside the chaotic construction site. The fire truck and engine roared in behind them, dust swirling in the air as brakes hissed.

Hen killed the engine, her eyes already scanning the scene through the windshield. “Let’s go,” she said, pulling the handle and stepping out.

(Y/n) was right behind her, snapping on her blue gloves before her boots even hit the pavement. Her eyes swept the street ahead. Bystanders were assembled along the sidewalk, some scrapes and bruises while others just were standing in shock. A low groan of metal settling from the collapsed structure ahead filled the air.

From the captain’s seat of the ladder truck, Bobby hopped down, eyes sharp as they scanned the damage.

A scaffolding tower had collapsed like a house of cards, collapsing into the building they were creating. Steel bars and wood planks had crashed across the concrete like discarded matchsticks. Part of the frame had given way and spilled across the sidewalk where several people had clearly been walking.

“Let’s bring it in!” Bobby called, waving the team into a circle as he assessed. “We’ve got a partial collapse on a two-story scaffolding. There’s structural instability, but not total failure. We’re likely looking at victims inside.”

He pointed quickly as he laid out the plan. “Chim, Buck, Eddie, you’re with me. We’re going in for search and rescue. Full sweep. Take it slow and watch for secondary collapses.”

“Copy that cap” they chorused, grabbing gear from the truck and slipping on helmets and gloves. “Hen, (Y/n),” Bobby continued, turning to them. “You two handle triage. Sidewalk injuries only for now. Unless we call you in, do not enter the structure.” he told the two paramedics.

“Got it,” Hen replied, already heading toward the cluster of injured civilians with (Y/n) on her heels. (Y/n)’s face was all business, but her mind raced. The twisted metal, the fallen beams… someone had to be under that.

She and Hen kept their distance by the fire line, watching the boys disappear into the debris-strewn structure. “Why is it always scaffolding?” (Y/n) muttered. “It’s never a bounce house collapse. Always metal and sharp edges.” she said as she opened the back of the ambulance to get out the medic bag.

Hen gave a dry laugh. “Because bounce houses don’t usually kill people.”

The air inside the structure was different. Thicker, as if the dust and heat carried weight. Eddie moved in step with Buck, his flashlight slicing through the haze. The beams of their headlamps flickered across rebar, fallen scaffolding, and jagged concrete slabs.

“LAFD!” Buck called out. “Call out if you can hear us!”

“L.A. Fire and Rescue!” Eddie echoed, voice steady as he stepped over a beam. “If you’re trapped, make a sound!” he said while he checked every inch and corner of the environment.

They moved methodically, room to room, or what remained of rooms. Twisted metal created a maze of shadows. The building groaned under its own weight. Somewhere above them, something creaked ominously, but held. For now.

“Watch your footing,” Bobby called ahead from where he was sweeping the center hallway with Chim.

The team moved with urgency, but not recklessness. In every corner could be someone. Every slab could be the difference between life and death.

“Over here!” Chim called suddenly, his voice echoing through the wreckage. “Got someone!”

Eddie and Buck rushed over, crouching beside Chim and Bobby where a man lay pinned beneath a steel beam. He was wearing a hardhat, one side dented and part of his reflective vest was torn, blood soaking the side.

“Still breathing,” Chim reported, fingers pressed to the man’s neck.

“Sir?” Eddie leaned close. “Can you hear me? You’re with LAFD. We’re here to help.”

The man groaned, and was trying to move. “Don’t move,” Bobby said gently but firmly. “You’ve got a piece of scaffolding across your midsection. We need to assess before we do anything.”

Eddie crouched beside the man, studying the angle of the beam. His pulse picked up. One wrong lift and they could collapse more weight on the guy. Or crush his ribs. Or sever something they couldn’t see.

“Let’s stabilize it here,” Eddie said, glancing at Buck. “And reinforce the back end before we lift. We need to get the medics in once we’re sure it’s not gonna shift.”

“On it,” Buck said, moving to wedge shoring under one side of the beam.

“Should we call Hen or (Y/n) in?” Chim asked Bobby.

“Not yet,” Bobby replied. “Not until we’ve stabilized this. We don’t risk more people until we’re sure it’s safe.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched as he watched the man blink weakly up at the ceiling. There was a split second where he thought not about the weight of the beam. Not the collapse. Just about the fact that (Y/n) was outside. Probably helping injured people on the sidewalk. Completely unaware that inside these walls, everything could come crashing down at any second if they made one wrong choice.

And for the first time, that thought made something tighten in his chest. But he pushed it down. Locked it away.

“Alright,” Bobby said. “Let’s make this move count.”

The construction worker groaned again, weaker this time. A layer of dust covered his face, smeared slightly by sweat. Bobby crouched beside him, radio in hand, pressing the transmit button.“Hen, (Y/n), we need one of you inside. We’ve got a male, mid-30s, pinned under a steel beam. His leg’s being crushed and circulation’s already looking compromised. Bring trauma gear.”

A sharp crackle replied before Hen’s voice came through. “Copy that. Sending someone in now.” (Y/n) turned to her partner as she caught those words Hen said through the radio. “You want me to go?” (Y/n) asked her.

Hen nodded, already turning back to a woman with a split brow. “Yeah. You’ve got better eyes on crush injuries. I’ve got sidewalk duty covered.”

“On it.” (Y/n) jogged toward the truck to go and get her helmet. Eddie was already there, pulling out the backboard with one hand. He glanced up as she approached, face unreadable but eyes locked on hers.

“I’ve got it,” he said, voice steady. Then, reaching into the gear rack inside the compartment, he grabbed a black helmet and turned to her. “Here.”

It was hers, her name label still faintly smudged with old soot. He handed it to her without a word, but with his eyes locked with hers. His fingers brushed hers, unwittingly.

(Y/n) looked down at the helmet, then up again. “Thanks.” she said as she adjusted the medic bag which was starting to fall off her shoulder.

She took the helmet from Eddie. Their eyes held for a beat. The background noise, the low groan of the structure, the hum of civilians, the bark of orders, faded just slightly. She turned away first, snapping the helmet on as she followed him toward the site’s opening. It was only a second, but it felt like minutes.

The dust clung to the inside of her mouth, and the air smelled like scorched metal and tension.

She followed Eddie and stepped into the small clearing where the others had propped debris to give them space. The worker was lying awkwardly beneath the beam, the lower half of his right leg hidden from view—and probably crushed. His breath was shallow, and the color was leaving his face in real time.

“Vitals are fading,” Chim warned.

(Y/n) dropped to her knees beside the man, popping open the side panel on her trauma pack. Her gloves were already on. “Let’s get pressure above the crush point. Do not lift yet. I need a read on what we’re looking at.”

Eddie crouched beside her, setting the backboard within reach.

She didn’t look at him, not yet. But suddenly something tightened the air around her. Making her nervous. Was it the scene? The crush injury right in front of her, which made her doubt if she could save this man’s leg? Or was it a certain someone? She wasn’t sure.

(Y/n) kept her voice calm and even despite the chaos vibrating through the structure. “Hey,” she said gently, brushing away some of the dust from the man’s brow. “Can you hear me?” she asked the victim.

The man’s eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain but responsive. “I’m (Y/n), I’m with LAFD. You’re pinned under a support beam, but we’re gonna get you out. Can you tell me your name?”

“...Joe,” he rasped, swallowing hard. His skin was slick with sweat. “My leg… I can’t… feel it…” he stumbled over his words.

“I know, Joe,” she said, her tone soft but focused as she reached for her kit. “You’ve got a crush injury. I’m going to start an IV to help manage the pain, okay?” (Y/n) said as she was already holding the right tools.

He nodded faintly.

Behind her, Bobby gave one last look over his shoulder before motioning to Chim. “We’re sweeping the second floor, radio if anything changes.” Chim gave her a quick nod as he stood. “You’ve got this.”

And then it was just the three of them. Buck hovered nearby, alert but letting her lead. Eddie stood a few feet off to her side, watching her with that unreadable calm. His gloved hands rested on his thighs, ready, tense.

(Y/n) popped the IV cap, quickly prepping the line. The tip of the needle shook for half a second in her hand just a flicker. “Hey,” Eddie said behind her, voice low and grounding. “What do you need?” he asked her.

(Y/n) didn’t look up right away. She took a breath, locking the needle into place and focusing on Joe’s arm. Her voice came out measured, but clipped. “Once the meds hit, we’re going to brace the leg before we even think about lifting that beam. I need traction on the upper thigh, then we secure a splint.” she told the two of them.

Buck crouched next to her. “I’ll handle traction.”

“Perfect.” She finally glanced at Eddie. “Can you prep the splint and backboard?”

“On it,” he said without hesitation, already pulling gear closer. As he moved past her, his shoulder brushed hers lightly barely noticeable through their gear, but it was enough.

Enough to remind her of his closeness. Enough to distract her. And suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the nervous flutter in her stomach was because of Joe’s crushed leg… or Eddie’s hands unpacking the splint beside her. What the hell is wrong with her?

She focused harder on the IV, slipping the needle in with practiced precision. Joe hissed but stayed still. “You’re doing good, Joe. Meds are coming in now.” He nodded faintly, jaw clenched.

“I’m wrapping above the knee,” she muttered, almost to herself. “I'm going to need traction once we free the limb.”

“I’ve got your six,” Eddie said. His voice was calm, like always, but it wasn’t lost on her that he hadn’t looked away from her once since she entered the building with him.

They were deep in it now. The building groaned again.

Dust rained down from somewhere above them, the soft sifting sound a warning no one wanted to hear. But (Y/n) didn’t flinch. Her focus stayed locked on Joe as the pain meds started to work their way through his system.

“We’re almost there,” she said, voice firm. “Joe, I need you to keep breathing for me, okay?” He gave a weak nod, his eyes glassy but open.

Buck moved into position. “I’ve got traction.”

“Splint’s prepped,” Eddie added, handing it off to her carefully.

(Y/n) took it, her fingers touched his just for a fraction. Again. Unintentionally. She didn’t react this time. Couldn’t. Joe’s leg was mangled beneath the beam, and every passing minute risked permanent damage. Or worse.

“All right,” she said, kneeling by Joe again. “We’re going to lift the beam just enough to slide the leg out. Not a centimeter more. We don't want a full collapse.” she explained to Joe.

“I don't like the sound of this,” Buck muttered, casting a nervous glance upward. And he was right. The structure was talking again. Shifting, creaking, like it was deciding whether it wanted to stay standing or come crashing down.

“Let’s move,” Eddie said. Buck braced his hands. Eddie took one side of the beam. They counted. “On three. One… two…three.”

They heaved.

Joe screamed through gritted teeth as (Y/n) carefully slid the splint beneath his leg. The second it was in place, she went to stabilize it. Her fingers were quick, trained. Her jaw was tight with focus. But then a deafening crack sounded from above them.

She looked up and saw the second beam lurch forward.

Eddie called out her name. She didn’t have time to react.

His arm caught her across the middle, yanking her back just as the beam came down hard right where she had been standing. Her back slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of her with a startled gasp.

The beam hit the ground with a loud crash, sending up a cloud of dust and echoing metal. A sharp ringing filled her ears. (Y/n) didn’t move. She stared at the fallen beam, less than two feet from her boots, realization sinking in. That would’ve crushed her.

She turned slowly, breath shaky.

And that’s when she realized where she was and how she was standing. Pressed tightly into Eddie’s chest, both of his arms still wrapped around her. One had instinctively gone to her waist, the other gripping the back of her turnout jacket. His heart was pounding fast against her spine.

Her hands were resting flat against his chest, and she could feel every sharp breath he took. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. He was already looking down at her. Neither of them spoke. The air between them felt like it could crack from the weight of it.

Then (Y/n) broke the moment, pushing gently against his chest, stepping back. “Sorry,” she said softly, her hands still hovering where he’d been. “I—I didn’t mean to…” Eddie didn’t move. His hands slowly dropped to his sides, but his eyes never left her.

Behind them, Joe groaned again. (Y/n) snapped back into motion. “We need to get him out now.” she said, determined. But it was already too late.

Joe’s breathing was fading fast, his lips turning bluish, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “No, no Joe, stay with me.” she pleaded, checking his vitals. “Pulse is thready! He’s crashing!”

She grabbed her bag again, yanking out tools, adrenaline rushing through her veins like a wildfire would spread through the dryness of land. She knew the signs. Internal bleeding. Probably massive. Her fingers worked anyway. Oxygen, compressions, anything to keep him alive. She refused to lose him. Not like this.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, pumping his chest. “Don’t you dare..” she gasped. Buck hovered nearby, quiet now. Eddie stepped closer, watching helplessly. They both knew the look in her eyes determined, relentless, breaking.

Finally, Eddie dropped to one knee beside her.

“(Y/n)...” His voice was soft, almost pleading. “He’s gone.”

“No.” Her eyes snapped to him, wild and filled with tears. “No, I can bring him back. I just need more time-” she gasped.

Eddie’s hand closed over hers, gently stopping the next compression. “(Y/n),” he said again, quieter now. “If we keep trying, we’re just hurting him more. You know that.”

Her lip trembled, but her hands went still. Reality settled in, and it hurt like hell.

She let go. Let her hands fall to her lap, covered in dust and blood. Joe’s chest didn’t rise. His body, still strapped to the splint, lay in eerie silence.

Eddie stayed beside her, not saying a word. Just being there.

She finally looked at him, really looked at him and didn’t know what she was supposed to feel anymore.

______

The ride back to the station was quiet.

(Y/n) sat in the passenger seat of the ambulance, staring out the window to her right, the lights of the city blurring by. Part of her wrists still had Joe's blood on them, dried and flaking. She hadn’t spoken since they left the scene.

No one forced her to.

Back at the station, the silence continued. Everyone moved around each other gently, giving space where it was clearly needed. It wasn’t the first time they’d lost someone on a call, but it had been so sudden, so cruel. And for (Y/n), it was personal. Too personal.

Even though (Y/n) had no connection to Joe before this, she was the one treating him. As the medic on scene his life was in her hands. She was the one who lived. Joe didn’t. It felt like life flipped a coin and decided who lived and who didn’t.

(Y/n) didn’t sit down with the others for the usual debrief. Instead, she went straight for the supply closet, muttering something about inventory. Bobby didn’t stop her. He just nodded once and let her go. Nobody tried to stop or pushed her to talk.

She stayed busy. She needed to. Cleaning equipment that didn’t need cleaning. Restocking gauze and IV bags. Running inventory on the med bags again. No one said anything, but her movements were sharp, robotic.

Hen watched her as she stood in the locker room. She crossed her arms and sighed as she watched (Y/n) in the ambulance. "She’s not okay," Hen muttered.

Chimney looked at Hen when he was taking something out of his locker, his eyes following Hen’s gaze. "She hasn’t said more than five words since we got back." Chim said as he continued to search through his locker.

"Yeah, and she’s said those five words to the broom closet." Hen said, turning to Chimney. They were both quiet for a moment, just watching their friend and colleague struggling to keep her own head above water. Trying not to drown.

"You think I should talk to her?" Hen asked.

Chim gave her a knowing look. "You can try. But when she’s like this... you know how she can be." He said as he shrugged his shoulders.

Hen sighed as she glanced at (Y/n) one more time. "Yeah. Stubborn as hell."

Upstairs in the loft, Buck leaned against the railing, watching as (Y/n) walked back and forth across the bay with a clipboard in her hands. She was talking to no one, checking things that had already been checked.

Eddie stood at the kitchen counter, empty mug in his hand as he reached for the filled coffee pot. Quiet.

"You gonna say something to her?" Buck asked casually, as he pushed himself off the railing and walked towards the kitchen island and leaned on that counter instead.

Eddie didn’t look up, his eyes locked on the mug in his hand and in the other hand a pot of coffee, which he was pouring into his cup. "She needs space." He said simply.

"She’s isolating," Buck countered. "That’s different. You of all people should know that." he continued as he tried to make eye contact with his friend. Desperately.

Eddie turned then, mug in hand, the tension clear in his shoulders. "What do you want me to say, Buck? That I saved her from being crushed by a metal beam, then watched her try to bring a guy back from the dead because she thought she could undo a crushed leg with a trauma kit?"

Buck raised his brows, but didn’t say anything.

Eddie sighed, softer this time. "We’ve been friends a long time. You know that. She’s been through a lot. But this... this one hit different."

"Different how?" Buck asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Eddie’s grip on the coffee mug tightened for a moment, eyes flicking toward the bay where (Y/n) was now double-checking a cabinet of trauma supplies for the third time.

“She’s always been the one who keeps it together,” Eddie said, voice lower now, thoughtful. “Even in the worst calls, she’s got this calm. This… steady presence. But this one?” He paused, jaw tightening again.

Buck watched him carefully, silent, before saying softly, “You should talk to her. Before that space she’s putting between you? Turns into a wall.”

Eddie swallowed hard, the weight of Buck’s words settling like stone in his chest. “What if she doesn’t want to hear it?”

“Then you say it anyway,” Buck replied. “Because she’d do the same for you. Hell, she has done the same for you.”

That landed. Hard. Eddie gave a slow, almost unnoticeable nod. “Yeah. You’re right.” he whispered.

Buck clapped a hand on his shoulder, then turned toward the stairs, his voice fading as he added, “She needs her people right now, Eddie. Make sure she knows you’re one of them.”

Eddie stood still in the kitchen a moment longer. He didn’t nod, didn’t speak. But when Buck left the loft, Eddie finally looked down at the ambulance bay again.

(Y/n) had stopped moving. She just stood there, leaning against the side of the ambulance, her head resting back against the cool metal, eyes closed.

He watched her, that familiar ache settling into his chest.

The station was still, the hum of the refrigerator was filling the silence that was left in the room after most of the 118 had gone to bed, the lights dimmed and the voices had faded. Only a soft flicker from the television lit the common area.

(Y/n) was curled up on the couch, her back resting against one armrest, legs stretched out, tucked under a blanket. One hand was holding the remote, the other was holding a cooling mug of tea. Her eyes flicked from channel to channel, as she clicked the next button on the remote.

Sleep felt like a trap tonight. She knew the second she laid in her bunk, the silence would give her brain all the room it needed to spiral.

She clicked again on the next button to switch the channel, and that’s when Taylor Kelly appeared on the screen.

The reporter stood outside the scene of the construction site from earlier that day, her voice smooth and rehearsed as she detailed the "chaotic collapse" and "heroic response from LAFD."

(Y/n) squinted at her words. She listened for a moment, but the way Taylor described what happened on that call was exaggerated, dramatized, a performance meant for ratings.

"That's such bullshit," (Y/n) muttered, just loud enough to carry through the loft, and took a sip of her tea.

A soft clink from the kitchen followed.

Eddie had entered the loft quietly searching for water and heard her comment. He didn't say anything right away, just moved gently to avoid startling her. After a moment, he walked over to the couch, still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, and dropped down at her feet. Without asking, he tugged some of the blanket over his thighs, settling in beside her like he had done countless times before.

"Taylor Kelly at it again," he said, nodding toward the screen.

(Y/n) scoffed. "I get that she's a reporter, but she wasn't even there. She makes it sound like we swooped in like action movie stars and just saved the day." she said annoyed as she took another sip and placed it onto the coffee table.

"You did what you could," Eddie said softly. "More than most could have." he added, trying to make eye contact with her. But she didn’t answer that. Her eyes stayed glued on the screen, but the image blurred.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently. (Y/n) gave a small shake of her head, her voice quieter now. "No. I thought maybe distracting myself would help. Because every time I close my eyes, I see Joe. Hear the sound of that beam hitting."

Eddie looked at her, his eyes softened at the way she opened up. "I keep thinking about how close it was. That moment. If I hadn’t seen it fall.."

"You did. That’s what matters," she said, cutting him off. But her voice faltered. She didn’t like thinking about it. They sat in silence for a beat.

Then she spoke again, quieter. "I thought I could save him. I thought if I worked fast enough, if I gave him enough meds, got the IV in on time... that maybe he’d have a shot." she said as her eyes finally wandered to something else but the screen. She looked down at her hands.

Eddie didn’t rush to respond. He let the words sit there between them, real and raw. "You did everything right," he finally said. "But sometimes... that just isn’t enough." he told her. He wanted to let her know that she couldn’t save everyone. She wasn’t some kind of guardian angel.

Eyes wandered to look at him, eyes glassy. "How do you deal with that? When the job isn’t enough?" she asked as she wiped a tear away.

Eddie leaned back a little, letting his hand rest on top of the blanket where it covered her shin. His thumb brushed lightly, not enough to make it weird, just enough to be present. "You keep going. You show up. And you let the people who care about you be there."

(Y/n)'s throat tightened. She looked away quickly, blinking fast. "I’m trying." she said, her voice on the edge of breaking. He nodded slowly. "You don’t have to do it alone. You never have."

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either. And that silence said enough. (Y/n) exhaled slowly, the tension between them softening into something unspoken. The room felt warmer with Eddie beside her, even if the silence stretched a little longer than it normally would. It wasn’t awkward, it was a comfortable silence.

Eddie motioned towards the screen, “Come on there has to be something better than this puppet show of Taylor Kelly.” he said.

She reached for the remote again, continuing her aimless switching between channels. A sitcom flickered across the screen, then a cooking show, then some old rerun of a crime drama.

"Hold on, go back," Eddie said, leaning slightly forward. "I like that one." he said. (Y/n) looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "You like That show?"

"Yeah, what’s wrong with it?" he asked.

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Eddie, that is quite literally the worst show ever made. We are not watching that.” she told him. He grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Okay, wow, dramatic. What’d it ever do to you?”

"Offended me. Personally. In every possible way," she replied, deadpan while she continued zapping. Eddie laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly as he kept his hand on the blanket and shin.

"Alright, your call," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "But you’re missing out on peak television."

"You can suffer through it on your own time, Diaz."

He shifted on the couch, getting more comfortable under the shared blanket. "Guess I’ll just have to settle for your terrible taste, then." She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the soft smile pulling at her lips.

Finally (Y/n) stopped switching channels as she found an episode of “Law And Order: SVU” and for a moment, the heaviness of the day felt a little lighter.

_______

It had been a few shifts since the worst shift of all time. At least that’s how she remembered it. The call that haunted her dreams and creeped into her mind now and then, was now just another file in a closed report.

(Y/n) had worked hard to push through, diving headfirst into every shift. She stayed late. Took the extra shifts. Laughed when someone cracked a joke. Smiled when Hen passed her a cup of coffee. But the smile she projected didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t real.

This call came in just after breakfast. A call about a teenager pinned beneath fallen debris on a busy street. No fire. No collapsed buildings. Just an accident. A load of metal poles had slipped off the back of a moving work truck and landed on a kid walking to school.

Hen was behind the wheel of the ambulance like always, as (Y/n) sat beside her.

They arrived with the rest of the 118, who spilled out of the truck and engine in practiced formation. Bobby assessed the scene, voice cutting clean through the chaos.

“Eddie, Buck, Chimney, secure the area. Check the load. Make sure nothing else is unstable. Hen, (Y/n), assess the victim.” he ordered. (Y/n) simply nodded as her partner said “Copy that, cap”

(Y/n) was already moving, she moved towards the ambulance to get her med bag as Hen made her way towards the victim. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she made her way towards the ambulance and opened the right compartment to fish her medic bag out.

When she made her way back, her eyes were locked on the victim. A boy, maybe fifteen, lay on the concrete, his lower body trapped under three long steel poles. One had grazed his abdomen. He was conscious, but fading fast.

“What’s your name?” she heard Hen ask as she arrived and crouched on the other side of the boy. “J-Jason,” he stammered, voice thick with pain. “Jason, I’m Hen, and this is (Y/n). You’re gonna be okay. Just stay with me, alright?” Hen said as she started working her magic.

Hen glanced over the injuries. “We’ve got minutes before shock hits. I need to assess his vitals.” (Y/n) nodded quickly and set her bag beside her, her blue gloved hands already moving to open it.

But when Hen asked, “Can you grab the IV kit and oxygen mask?” it was like everything inside her stalled. Her fingers hovered just inches from the supplies, but they wouldn’t close around anything.

Everything around her was muted all of the sudden. The sound of groaning metal filled her ears. The gasps for air of Joe. The loud bang when the beam hit the floor. For just a second, she was back there. Kneeling beside a man she wanted to save so desperately. Blood on her gloves, the feeling of Eddie’s arms pulling her back.

She was frozen. But a familiar voice brought her back to reality. “(Y/n)?” Hen asked, a slight worried tone in her voice. (Y/n) blinked for a second, as she locked eyes with Hen. “Are you sure you’re up to this? You don’t have to-”

But (Y/n) shook her head. “I’m okay. An IV kit and oxygen mask? Give me a second.” she rattled. Without any confirmation from Hen, she stood up and made her way towards the ambulance, hunting for the two things her partner had asked for.

(Y/n) opened the back doors of the ambulance, and entered, grabbing everything she needed. "Hey. (Y/n)?" another familiar voice asked. (Y/n) didn’t even spare him a glance, she needed to grab the supplies for Hen. As some kind of reaction, she hummed.

Her eyes met Eddie’s as soon as she had everything she needed and made her way to exit the ambulance again. Eddie stood at the back of the ambulance, eyes narrowed slightly as concern was written all over his face. He had jogged over after noticing the conversation between Hen and her.

"You okay? Need help?" he asked as she hopped out of the back of the ambulance. (Y/n) blinked, “I’ve got it,” she said, slightly annoyed. Pushing the supplies to her chest a little tighter. Why was everyone doubting her?

Eddie took a half-step back, hands raised, but his eyes didn’t leave her. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, softer this time. Gentle. “You don’t have to do this alone.” he continued as (Y/n) started to make her way back to Hen with the victim.

“I said I’ve got it, okay?” she snapped, sharper than the meant to.

She made a little run back to Hen. All that talking made them lose time. Her pulse was racing, her skin hot under her gear, but she grounded herself with each step back toward the victim.

Hen glanced up as she returned and didn’t say anything. She just took the oxygen mask from her and nodded. “Good. Let’s get him stable.” Hen said. And that’s what they did.

She slipped the IV into place, her fingers steadying now that her focus was locked on Jason. She spoke softly to him, kept him awake and held his hand as Hen monitored the bleeding and prepared to remove the beam.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Buck and Chim setting up cribbing. Their movements were fast but careful, placing the wooden blocks to stabilize the fallen metal.

Time felt like it was slipping through their fingers, and Jason’s breathing was growing more labored by the second. “We’re almost set,” Buck called.

Hen looked at the vitals. “We need to get this beam off now. He’s fading.”

Eddie was already moving. He turned on his heel and jogged back toward the ambulance. Within seconds, he was wheeling the gurney toward them, the thick tires bumping over the asphalt.

“Alright,” Hen nodded, meeting everyone’s eyes for just a beat. “One... two... three- lift!”

With coordinated effort, the team carefully shifted the weight of the beam, sliding it just enough to clear Jason’s lower body. Hen and (Y/n) were immediately on him, securing his spine, stabilizing his head and neck while Eddie helped Chim and Buck for a moment.

Eddie and Buck helped transfer Jason onto the backboard and onto the gurney in one clean motion. He groaned in pain but stayed conscious, but barely. “You’re doing great, Jason,” (Y/n) said, her hand pressing gently against his shoulder. “You’re almost there.”

Hen secured the straps, and began pushing the gurney toward the ambulance as soon as they were ready. (Y/n) followed on the other side, her hand still on Jason, grounding both herself and the boy as she helped push the gurney.

(Y/n) climbed in the back of the ambulance, and they loaded Jason in the back of the ambulance. The doors slammed shut behind them. And then it was quiet again. (Y/n) stood frozen for a moment, her gloves sticky, the adrenaline still pulsing in her veins.

Her eyes locked with Eddie’s through the small window of the ambulance, the look said it all. There weren’t any words needed. And then his fist banged against the ambulance back doors. Giving Hen the sign they were all set to go.

She could push people away all she wanted, but he was still there. And somewhere deep down, it terrified her how much she needed that. Even though she didn’t want to admit it.

The drive back from the hospital was quiet, aside from the soft hum of the engine and the faint shifting of coffee cups in the cupholders. Hen had pulled into a drive-thru on the way back. They pulled into the station’s bay, the ambulance settling into its usual spot. But neither of them moved to get out.

The vehicle was put in park. Hen put the engine off and kept one hand on the wheel, the other had the keys to the rig in between her index finger and her thumb. She sighed as she grabbed her coffee with the hand she used to turn off the engine of the ambulance. Hen took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes were distant, fixed on the open garage door as the both of them remained in the ambulance.

“You know,” Hen spoke up after a long beat, her voice calm but low, “A few years ago, I T-boned a car that was speeding through an intersection on a red light. We were mid-response, full sirens, but the girl in that car was sixteen. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t see us.” she said as she kept looking straight ahead.

(Y/n) turned her head slowly to look at her partner. Hen’s fingers drummed softly against her coffee cup. “I watched her crash, and then I had to get out of the ambulance and treat her. She didn’t make it. I couldn’t stop seeing her face for months.” Hen added to her story.

The silence between them stretched but it wasn’t awkward “I didn’t know that,” (Y/n) finally whispered. Hen smiled sadly, sending her a quick glance.

“I didn’t tell many people. I buried it for a while. Told myself it was just part of the job. But it ate me alive. I started hesitating at scenes. I’d second guess everything. It took me nearly a year before I could look at an intersection without flinching or being reminded of that day.”

(Y/n)’s throat tightened. Her voice was rough when she spoke. “I keep seeing Joe.” (Y/) suddenly whispered. “Every time I blink, every time I hear something crash or someone scream… he’s there. Dying. And I… I couldn’t save him. I tried. I really tried.” she said as she used her thigh as a platform to lean on with her coffee cup and stared at it for a moment.

“I know you did.” Hen said, looking to her right, trying to make eye contact. “But I failed him, Hen. I see his face and I think what if it happens again? What if I freeze again? What if I can’t do it next time?” tears were burning into (Y/n)’s eyes as she managed to glance back at her friend.

Hen reached across the console, her hand resting on (Y/n)’s, which was still holding the cup. “But you did do it. Today. You saved that kid, even when your brain was trying to drag you backward. You pulled yourself out.” Hen tried to encourage her as she gave her hand a slight squeeze. ”That’s strength, (Y/n). That’s what makes you good at this.”

A tear slipped down (Y/n)’s cheek. She didn’t wipe it away. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” Hen continued softly. “And you don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Trauma leaves cracks, but cracks let people in.”

(Y/n) managed a small, watery smile. “You’re like my big sister, you know that?”

Hen chuckled, wiping under her own eye. “I better be. Lord knows I’m too young to be your cool aunt.” They laughed, quietly. And when the laughs turned into silence, (Y/n) broke it one more time. “Thanks Hen.” she whispered. (Y/n) received another soft squeeze on her forearm, combined with a reassuring smile.

(Y/n) walked back from the supply closet, arms full of freshly packed trauma gear. Her eyes were focused on the task, on the way the plastic crinkled in her hands, on not dropping anything. The hallway was dim and silent, most of the station had gone to the bunks.

She made her way across the room towards the ambulance,just as she rounded the corner, she almost jumped out of her skin, gasping when she saw a figure standing there.

“Jesus,” she hissed, a hand flying to her chest while she managed to keep all the supplies in her arms clutched to her chest. Not dropping any of them to the ground. “That’s not creepy at all.” she added as she caught her breath for a second.

Eddie stood with his back leaned casually against the rig, arms crossed tightly. He didn’t move, didn’t smile, and didn’t say anything. Her heart still racing, she muttered under her breath and shook it off, continuing toward the ambulance. Whatever.

She climbed up into the back of the ambulance, placing the supplies back where it belonged. Restocking. Organizing. Keeping her hands busy. Pretending like he wasn’t there. But he was.

Eddie moved into the open doorway of the ambulance, his silhouette blocking out the tube lights from the bay. Watching her. Close. Still silent. Not creepy at all.

“You good?” she asked, glancing at him as she felt the eyes burning into her skin. A flash of concern slipped through before she masked it. “You’ve been standing there like a ghost.” she added as she gave him a confused look. What did he want?

He shrugged, but his jaw was tight. “You tell me.” he said. (Y/n)’s stomach twisted at the tone of his voice. She stepped out of the rig, brushing past him “I don’t want to do this right now, Eddie.” she told him.

(Y/n) moved to the side of the ambulance to get to the front and grab the clipboard she had left in the front. She opened the passenger door and grabbed the clipboard. When she closed the door again and turned on her heels she stopped dead in her tracks. Eddie was still standing with her. Just keeping a distance between the two of them.

But Eddie stepped closer, quiet but certain. His movement sent a rush through her chest. She tried to push the feeling she felt in her chest away and walk past him, but he stepped in front of her, gently but firmly blocking her path.

The only light source came from overhead lights above them, casting long shadows behind them. Close. Quiet. Tense.

“I had it under control,” she bit out before he could speak. “I don’t need you watching over me like I’m some kid. Like I’m going to shatter if someone breathes too hard.” she defended herself. “That’s not what I was-” Eddie started, frustration brimming.

“You think because I had one bad call, I can’t do this anymore?” she snapped, voice still low but sharp. “You think I need someone to hold my hand?” She shot at him.

“I didn’t say that.” Eddie tried to keep his voice calm.

“But you thought it.” (Y/n) said a bit louder as she pressed her fingers tightly into the clipboard.

“I was trying to help you—” His voice became louder too.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” She shouted, immediately regretting her loud reaction. “You didn’t have to!” he shouted back, his voice echoing just once before he dropped it again. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, the other on his hip, like he was trying to hold back everything that wanted to come pouring out. “Hen asked if you were okay. She would’ve handled it. You could’ve stepped back.” he formed the image, his voice on a normal volume again.

“And then what?” she seethed. “Let everyone think I’m too fragile? I’m not some glass doll, Eddie.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. And his voice cracked a little when he said it. “You’re not. But you’re carrying everything like you have to prove it to us. Like you have to prove it to me.”

Her expression hardened, “What do you want from me?” she asked him, almost sounding desperate. He stared at her. The words hovered in his mouth for one moment, and then another. And then they broke free from the cage he had placed them in for a long, long time.

“I care,” he said. “I care too damn much, okay? I’m not good at saying it. I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But I love you.” he blurted it all out, rattling more.

The words hit the space between them like a tidal wave. Her breath caught. Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. “What?” she whispered, dazed and confused.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I’ve loved you longer than I even realized. You scare the hell out of me because you’re the one person I can’t lose.”

Silence. Not even the hum of an engine. Just their breathing. Their eyes locked. And then suddenly, desperately, he closed the gap between them and kissed her.

One hand cradled her cheek, the other gripped her hip like he needed her to stay attached to him, to this moment. Her body froze, shocked, but her hands found him anyway. One gripped his upper arm, the other pressed firmly into his chest. Pushing him away from her.

She stepped back, creating some distance between them again. But then, their eyes met again, wide and terrified and raw. And before she even knew what she was doing, she was crashing back into Eddie again. All the frustration, the longing, the words they never said all of it spilled into that kiss.

This time, the kiss was slower. Fierce still, but filled with more than heat, there was something tender threaded through it. (Y/n) dropped the clipboard as her fingers slipped to the back of his head, slightly pulling his hair. Her other hand was placed on his neck. His thumb brushed just beneath her eye.

And then a voice called out from the bay, calling out for (Y/n).

They broke apart instantly.

Breathing hard, they jumped back like teenagers caught sneaking out. (Y/n) wiped her mouth instinctively, eyes wide in panic. Eddie turned his head slightly, already trying to play it off as he gave the clipboard that fell onto the ground a little push so it’s underneath the ambulance. Like nothing had happened there.

Buck rounded the corner in his sweatpants and station t-shirt, walking casually behind the rig and the engine, his eyes fixed on a small tablet in his hand. He didn’t even glance up at first until he stopped walking, sensing something.

His head lifted. His eyes took in the scene.

Two friends. Standing too far apart to be casual. Faces flushed. Chests heaving just slightly too fast.

Buck’s brow arched, his lips twitched into a knowing grin. “What’s going on here?” he asked, already smirking, like he sensed something had been going on before he walked in. (Y/n) straightened, forcing the most neutral look she could manage. “Nothing.”

“Yeah. Nothing,” Eddie echoed, his voice tight but impressively composed.

Buck looked between them slowly, deliberately, like someone who’d just walked in on a plot twist in real time. “Sure,” he said with a slow nod. “Anyway… Hen was looking for you,” he said to (Y/n), still grinning.

“Right,” she said, swallowing thickly. “Thanks.”

As she turned to walk away, brushed past Eddie, way too close, for the smallest second. She looked back over her shoulder at him when she had passed Buck, and their eyes locked. Something still burned there unfinished, unresolved.

Buck didn’t move right away.

He stayed with Eddie between the ambulance and the rig, watching (Y/n)’s figure disappear into the shadows of the station. His eyes flicked back to Eddie, who was still standing in front of Buck, arms now crossed tightly over his chest, as if that would somehow contain everything that just happened.

Buck tilted his head, arms folded too now, one eyebrow raised. “So… you sure you wanna stick with the ‘nothing happened’ story?”

Eddie exhaled through his nose, slowly. Controlled. “Yeah.”

Buck wasn’t quite convinced. “Because from where I was standing, that ‘nothing’ looked a hell of a lot like something.”

Eddie gave a one-shouldered shrug, jaw tight. “You saw what you wanted to see.” Eddie said as he had an innocent expression projected on his face.

Buck let out a short laugh, dry and disbelieving. “Eddie, I’ve known you too long. You’re practically vibrating.” He pointed loosely at his best friend’s chest. “And don’t think I missed the way she looked at you just now. That wasn’t nothing. That was… capital-S Something.”

Eddie’s face didn’t shift, but his fingers twitched slightly at his side. “Drop it, Buck.” Eddie said.

“You kissed her, didn’t you?” Buck then asked. “No,” Eddie said quickly. Way too quickly. Buck raised both brows, unimpressed. “Dude.” he laughed.

Eddie passed him as he turned toward the hallway, as if movement might end the conversation. “Nothing happened.” Eddie kept holding on.

Buck didn’t follow right away, he just stood there for a beat, watching his friend walk away with tension in his shoulders and guilt written all over his back. “Alright,” Buck muttered under his breath, smirking to himself. “Nothing happened.” But as he turned away, he said it with a grin.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

9-1-1 Masterlist | Eddie Diaz Masterlist | Next Chapter >>>

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 imagine #imagine #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddiediaz #eddie diaz

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cheritzteam · 25 days ago

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[MM] Two brothers embracing the refreshing summer🌴, Twins’ Birthday Event Announcement

Hello, this is Cheritz.

How did you spend the sunny month of May, Coordinator? 😊

Now that spring has passed and we're standing at the threshold of summer,

What summer scenery comes to your mind, Coordinator?

While some people think of refreshing and cool summer,

Others might think of the humid weather from the rainy season.

As the sunlight grows hotter,

Have you noticed that someone special's birthday is slowly approaching? 👀

Two men who suit the refreshing summer perfectly!

It's the twins' birthday 🎉

If you're curious about what events have been prepared to celebrate the twins' birthday,

please check the details in the announcement below~😉

< ① Twins Birthday Event >

The twins' birthday has returned again this year!

What flavor cake would you like to gift him, Coordinator?

Cream, strawberry, chocolate, green tea, mocha, etc... 🍰🎂

Share the cake you've prepared to celebrate 707 or Saeran's birthday on Twitter or Instagram with the hashtag #MM_Cake_OneSlice, and receive 50 Hourglasses⌛ through a drawing! (15 people)

Additionally, we've prepared a bonus event commemorating the twins' birthday!

Use the hashtags #Happy_BDay_707 or #Happy_BDay_Saeran to celebrate his birthday,

and don't miss out on the 50 Hourglasses⌛ given through a drawing♥ (15 people)

Among the participants, 15 people will be selected by drawing to receive 50 Hourglasses⌛ each♥

Event Period : June 9 (Mon) ~ June 22 (Sun) KST

Winner Announcement : June 26 (Thu) KST

< ② In-game Login Event >

During the event period below, log into the game and enjoy with the twins birthday commemorative title image🎉

We've also prepared special login rewards to commemorate the twins' birthday! 🎁✨

June Title Image : June 10 (Tue), 2025 ~ June 22 (Sun), 2025 KST

Finally, during the period below, there will be a 20% discount event for [707 Spaceship Cushion] [Saeran's Passport Set] at Cheritz Market.

If you've been hesitating to make a purchase, Coordinator, why not take this opportunity? ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌ )

Cheritz Market Discount Period : June 10 (Tue) 2 PM ~ June 16 (Mon) 2 PM KST

This is all the June news we've prepared!

The hotter the sunlight gets, the cooler your heart should be!

We hope your summer will be even more special with Mystic Messenger 🍉

Thank you!

Sincerely, Cheritz

#mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #cheritz

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sknyuz · 2 months ago

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₊‧☆⋆｡ﾟ 💾˖° 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶.𝗲𝘅𝗲 .ᐟ 𓂃⌨️⌒☆

𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁—𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲, 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ get to know the programmer here 📡

linked networks 🌐 @kstrucknet join the taglist to always be updated .ᐟ click here 📨 requests: open .ᐟ

spam reblogs are encouraged and appreciated.

seventeen.exe

70√3 — jeon wonwoo 💾📁 (tutor!wonwoo)

sunshine under the weather — lee seokmin (dk) 💾📟 (sick!dk)

heavy lifting — kim mingyu 💾⚡📟✨ (gym + college au)

my quiet place — kwon soonyoung (hoshi) 💾💿📁 (established relationship)

garden fairy — yoon jeonghan 💾💿📁 (idol!reader)

prompt #7 — lee jihoon 💾📟📁✨ (emotionally constipated woozi)

guard your heart (wip) — lee chan (dino) (royal au) preview here

threaded to you — hong jisoo (joshua) 💾💿(proposal!)

thrum — chwe hansol (vernon) 🧿

sticky! — boo seungkwan 💾📟 (office au)

anything 4 u — lee chan (dino) 💾📟

still into you — choi seungcheol (s.coups) 💾📟

chasing the moon* — wen junhui (jun) + xu minghao (the8) 💾⛓️‍💥

✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*

weakheroclass.exe

i can fix him! - the trilogy masterlist

before the storm — na baekjin ⛓️‍💥💿 ✨

how whc boys would kiss you — 💾👾✨

collarless — geum seongje — ⛓️‍💥💿🧿✨

academic rival!na baekjin — 💾📟📁

boyfriend!baku — 💾💿📁

how whc boys show intimacy — 💾👾

sweet (mute!reader) — geum seongje 💾⛓️‍💥📟

how whc boys handle a break up ⛓️‍💥👾

afterglow — oh beomseok 💾⛓️‍💥

still, i choose you — na baekjin 💾⛓️‍💥

going down on the boys of whc ⚡️

meet me halfway — go hyuntak (gotak) 💾📟

cheers to youth - na baekjin (prequel to before the storm)💾📟

✧・ﾟ*: system last updated: 2nd of june, 2025 ✧・ﾟ*:

✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*:✧・ﾟ*

discontinued groups

theboyz.exe (closed)

chocolate cliché — ju haknyeon 💾 📟📁

7:43am — kim sunwoo 💾📟 📁

9:00pm — eric sohn 💾 💿📁

haunted house — ji changmin (q) 💾 📟📁 (childhood bffs)

morning after your wedding with ju haknyeon — 💾💿📁

sknyuz © 2025 | all rights reserved. unauthorized reproduction, revising or distribution of this material, as well as the use in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence is strictly prohibited.

#sknyuz #⋆˚࿔ 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢’𝐬 🍮 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#sknyuz masterlist #kstrucknet

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lilybug-02 · 2 months ago

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❤️🌸🌼 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞…. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 🌼 🌸 ❤️

To get questions out of the way, yes, The Chara Timeline Comic will not be continuing… (mostly)

I started this comic back in November of 2021 on the simple idea of "What if Players possessing humans was normal?". I didn't think it would go beyond a simple page, but it did. It was an idea that blossomed into a 3+ year comic, spanning hundreds of pages, side art, fanart!!!, new blogs, and led me to meeting some of the sweetest and brightest Tumblr people I have ever met. ✨❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜✨ (I’m gonna shout u out eventually 😈)

But, I was doing this COMIC on my OWN and in my free time while juggling college, serious mental health issues, and many crazy life events.

So after so many years, I think it's finally time to put this comic to rest. I grew out of my Undertale and Deltarune love months ago and I am ready to look forward to other projects and interests. (Now... I am open to drawing more for it...but I am okay with telling the world the full story in case I don't ,:))

Because this comic means the ABSOLUTE WORLD to me... I want to give it a last hoorah! I am making multiple parts to this because I want to do my comic justice. ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

I will be going over my favorite art, scenes, characters, deleted scenes and more. And at the end of it all I will go over what the finale would look like and give you guys some art of that :)

First off...MY FAVORITE SCENES!!! (and my thoughts on them)💕

The Beginning:

Still have this saved in my files, thank god. Man... my art has improved so so much!!!! Gone are the playdough hands and strange proportions! Though my faces and consistency always need work.... haha. I'm surprised how colorful and pretty this first page is :) It makes me happy to see it in a new light.

My Favorite Darkworld Page:

I put hours upon hours of work into each page (especially for the colorful Darkworlds), but none still makes me hold my breath as much as the first introduction of The Mayor! I loved drawing the perspective and colored background motifs in this page. And the way the emotions are on full display ~ Chefs Kiss. (I also loved the "Let's shoot out the lights" metaphor being a double entendre. Representing the Mayor's wants to kill/get rid of light-ners and also the term being an old saying for "completely dominating one's opponent" as he want's Kris to join him in his dastardly deeds.)

Backgrounds:

I put my heart and soul into the backgrounds of this comic. I hid details like eyes in walls, moss covered plateaus, spoon shaped rocks, tea kettle inspired trains, hidden characters, and wayyyyy more. Some of my favorite backgrounds have to be of the more subtle ones. But I’m very proud of the detailed ones like the computer.

Silly Kris to Chara Talk:

This one scene (part 8 and 9, which was 12 pages) took me 5 months to make. It was hell. But I did it. The script took me FOREVER to figure out. I have like 4 different drafts of this scene (which I'll show later). I was exhausted and a bit deflated at the time, so I wasn't as proud with it. I'm happy now, but I feel like it could have been easier to make. I'll never know.

All of the Weird Route:

THIS. I LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.🩸💔 I would love to say this is the magnum opus of the comic, but I am being very biased. Horror is my specialty and I was ecstatic when I made the decision to write and draw the weird route for this comic. The idea of having a THING control your body to kill while you’re conscious of your actions is a great horror concept and I loved delving deep into it. Obviously, I feel like some of the writing could have been more worked on (like the part where Chara is explaining HOW soul entities control the body) bc it's confusing, but I'm still so happy with it :) And even if I didn't finish the main one, I finished the weird route. So I made a conclusion somewhere!! (even if it's hella morbid lol)

Darkworld Train Fight:

I had been hoping to make this scene since week ONE of the comic. An epic train fight in a Wild West themed Darkworld? It was perfect! And I also really wanted to have a reference to the Alaskan Bull Worm 🪱🧽 from Spongebob for some reason. Because Sandy Cheeks (the squirrel) is Texan and somehow that all connects back to Rodger the Worm haha. I thought it would be fun, but it took me forever to figure out how the worm and train would combine in a fight scene. In retrospect, I think i spent a little too much time in the darkworld, as it took time and energy away from a more tight-knit story, but hind sight is 2020. 💖🚂🚋🚋🚋🪱

Shaker Sisters:

Just look at them. They are actual baby.

Chara's Crashout and Eventual Talk with Asriel:

This idea of Chara yelling at the Mayor was originally just one page of Chara making an offhand comment about how he was annoying. But it turned into a much more impactful, story changing moment. I wanted to highlight Chara's intensity and why they might have been labeled as "not a good friend" in Undertale. They have anger issues. They are unapologetically blunt. They are anxious and critical of their self worth. They echo their past abusers onto themselves and others and they believe they are justified in their actions. But Chara is human and I wanted to respect them as such.

...I also love Chara being silly <3 (That ice cream took 3+ hours to draw) 😭🍦🍪

Asriel Being Cute:

I just think this one drawing looks cute :)

Chara Finding Kris:

I love drawing comedy and this was no exception. I wanted it to be equal parts horror and funny. Chara's "F*Ck" being cut off is so funny to me 😭 And the horror of a literal Human organ just floating up to you?? Peak dark humor. I also think I nailed the panel layout here 😊

Kris' Confession:

These are my FAVORITE pages out of the ENTIRE COMIC. I feel like the writing, art, and scene layout is as flawless as it can be. I'm still shocked at how well it turned out. They were also a blast to work on ❤️

Silly Azzy 🥺 Face:

I knew people would love his droopy face, but literally so many people liked it, it became a meme. Thank you. I also think it's the funniest thing ever.

A Moment Between Friends:

I love Asriel and Chara's relationship in this comic. They care for one another so much even when they don't see eye to eye.

Breakfast:

This one panel took me 4+ hours. The perspective is wonky and there are 5 different characters. But man do I love how it turned out. Susie is chowing down on those detailed pancakes (yes, those are human and monster pancake faces :) 🥞🥞🥞).

Chara Kicking Stones:

idk why but this one panel scratches an itch in my brain. It’s detailed and colorful :3

The 7 Humans:

I guess we’re getting to some of the last pages I’ve done…. I’m really happy with this one. It’s spooky but gives a sense of intrigue. I also love the layout. Also Also- Frisk’s shirt is a reference to that one submarine guy from the Titanic movie. Idk why, but the happy face with a bullet in its head just fits the vibe.

#deltarune chara timeline #Deltarune the chara timeline #chara timeline #the chara timeline #bread #my art #art #chara #deltarune chara #chara deltarune #college chara #all them good yuppy tags #uhhhh #asriel dreemurr #kris dreemurr #Deltarune #Undertale

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kyri45 · 1 month ago

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✨SBP: Second Star Q&A! 20/05✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU Spin Off! If it’s not answered here, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Weird 3 AM question for you: Do the stone monkeys have belly buttons? They came from eggs, so they might not but they may have been magically connected to something or someone, so...? Bellybuttons? Sorry if this is weird, my brain has been thrown for a loop lately.

They don't

@fake-anjel ha chiesto: Kyri, I remember you liked to draw Nezha a lot (don't blame you I have a literal list of logical explanations of why he's so drawable) But I've been wanting to ask you, how you think about baby/child Nezha? Since that in the legends he's a child god, Pluss in his old movie he died and stayed in the form of a child so I believe much in the theory that he's stuck in the age of six (when he died and came back to life) forever, both mentally and physically and uses glamour to age up so people take him more seriously I want to know if you also head cannon that theory ? (just pure curiosity)

There's a lot of different version, it's interesting to see that in LMK he's kind of an adult, I like to think he did grow up a little during the millenia, or that his outer appearance reflects his mental age, so in the years he was forced to "grow up" after his father became the pagoda wielder, and so he also reflect the age he must follow to be taken seriously by his father

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: It's wild to think how long Wukong and Macaque had been gestating their little girl. They went into meditation at month 9 and meditated for 11 more. That is 20 months! Almost 2 years!

if you think about it Nezha mother's gestation period was 3 years, so they got even lucky with that.

@straightally2001 ha chiesto: I'm curious, is the baby gonna grow differently than MK. Is she gonna be a toddler longer than MK was?

yes, just a bit longer, not that much.

@the-ninja-girl-in-blue ha chiesto: Are we going to eventually find out what the baby’s name is going to be or is she not gonna have a name at all? I’m not asking for what her name is now I’m asking if we’re going to ever find out what it is or if she’s gonna have one.

yes, at the end of the spin-off

@wintzrr ha chiesto: Dumb quesiton 💔 I forgot where but i read that your gonna make 3 spin-offs of the bio parents au, just by curiously… Is one of them about spicynoodles.. I say with a hidden folder pure spicynoodles fanart from your fanfic. ON MY HANDS AND KNEES I NEED TO KNOW. ALSO I LOVE YOU ART SO MUCH OH MY GAWDD.

@writingamongther0ses ha chiesto: Random thought- Pigsy: *opening the shop* *monkey noise* Pigsy: *turns head* Child: *sitting calmly next to the door* Pigsy: "..." Child: "..." Pigsy: "Tannnng...it happened again!"

LMAO

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: OMG SHADOW POWERS!!! I’m sure that’s not gonna give the parents any heart attacks lmao I’m curious if this is why Mac’s shadow powers were going haywire while they were feeding the baby their power, while Wukong’s were greatly weakened? And if this was also why Mac seemed to be more drained by the process than Wukong, at least at first?

A little, but mostly because he died once so he's weaker

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: I just realized something so you know That MK and Wukong can shrink so Red son and Macaque can have a tiny pocket husband/boyfriend

This is a very important information, thank you for sticking this image in my head.

@michigo-eevee-trainer ha chiesto: For the Bio Parents AU, I do have one question. If MK had used his energy to help the child grow, would that help or hurt the child? I mean I know it needed energy from it's parents in order to grow but MK is their brother. So wouldn't that work too? Though it would drain MK badly as well so maybe it wouldn't be a good thing.

It wouldn't have hurt it, but he would have needed to be part of the ritual as well and having to be connected to them as well during the gestation period.

@lizislife ha chiesto: Will we ever see macaque truly get mad?

maybe

@coolshadowkiller99 ha chiesto: Hey. I have a question. I know a lot of people make Mac and iron fan sworn siblings like wukong n dbk but are yours? Like wine auntie pif? Also I just want to hold bby mk and the shimians and everyone like burgers cause they're so adorable! I love them! I wish they could meet my oc Alix and alis.

yes she's wine aunt

@emptystarhead733 ha chiesto: Yello. I wanted ta ask since I love your art. Would Wukong throw her, for funsies, thinking she'll just teleport back, but when she doesn't Macaque catches her, scolding Wukong for it????

that's more of macaque honestly

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Will we see the baby all grown up? By the end of the spin-off? Maybe? Pretty please?

nope

@s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e ha chiesto: what’s the baby’s relationship to Tang and Pigsy exactly? :0 uncles? stepdads? dads in law? brother’s dads? also why are Wukong and Mac so tired, baby seems pretty chill? esp. since she’s already 3ish, only cries when overwhelmed by people. is it the stress of a toddler that can portal around so they always gotta find her? she’s def not as active as baby MK lmao

they are both uncles. Pigsy is also the godfather

@drpepperlover545 ha chiesto: this is a joke question but, will she get free noodles for life?

obviously

@monika-396 ha chiesto: Is Xiaotian gonna cut his hair now that his parents are back and his baby sister is here?

it's funnier if he doesn't

I have two question(I’m sorry if it’s too much😔) 1.)Would the baby be immortal just like her fathers, or they would have to do something to make her immortal? 2.)Is there a chance that you would make another spin-off that would focus on her life? (BTW I LOVE YOUR LATEST CHAPTER🤍🤍)

They aren't 100% immortal like wukong or macaque. They can perfectly become in some way immortal like Wukong did with his 72 transformations, and she does age more slowly by default

@vivian-adhd-core ha chiesto: So iI'm after my final exams (math went bad) and the bby made my absolute day. So I wanted to ask if it's okay that I make an AU of my main Oc being her auntie? (I hc my OC as Macaques younger sister. Also I will draw stuff once I ain't grounded!) Amaizing design, love it, keep up the good job and stay safe! 💖

As long as you tag me

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Can I ask why the baby has that weird blank spot in her face marking? She was literally just born so it’s not a scar, so what’s going on there? Ignore me if this is somehow a spoiler lol

birthmark

@keykittygirl ha chiesto: Since you said that ne zha will be in the baby shower, I'm just curious like will he actually gonna get his own clothes changing stuff XD I mean like we have seen how the other characters got a different clothes, meanwhile the poor lotus boyo only have his armor

he mostly wear his armor cause he's able to visit between his work shifts

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You think DBK picks Red Son up by the scruff of his neck like a mother cat?

sure, why not

@epicloversposts ha chiesto: Hiya! Just a little question about Wukongs and Mk's apparently shared weakness,how would red son react to finding out about Mk's weakness, would red son be flustered or would red son be devious and use it against mk to courtnap him?

i mean they already cournapped the other so- i guess only for teasing him

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Does Mamacaque get Mother's Day while everyone else has to share Father's Day? How do they do?

he gets both

@neptune-nova ha chiesto: Would you ever make a spicynoodles comic? Just curious lol

unlikely. I have so many other comics I wanna do first.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au #sbp second star

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lizzyiii · 9 months ago

Note

just wondering 👉🏼👈🏼 when the next update of his lady love will be? i’m just so excited for the next chapter im OBSESSED with the story 👻

I'm so sorry I took this long, I've been having a mental block with this

His Lady Love (9)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

word count | 3,8k words

summary | finally you make your return back to king's landing and reunite with aemond

tags | hurt/comfort,

note | I'm so sorry I took so long

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

The storm had raged for a week, battering the old farmstead with rain and howling winds. Inside, the small prince had finally begun to show signs of recovery. Jaehaerys, once pale and on the verge of death, now had the flush of life back in his cheeks, thanks to the small doses of your ancient vampire blood. His eyes, once glazed and distant, now held a quiet strength. Despite his reserved nature, the boy had grown fond of you in his own way, calling you “munās”

The crumbling farm had served its purpose. Though it was no Red Keep, the rations you had scavenged from Tym’s meager cupboards had been enough to sustain the both of you. Tym, the unfortunate soul whose blood had been your own sustenance, now lay rotting in a closet—his death no more significant than a footnote in a much larger story. The smell of his decaying body was thick in the air, but it hardly bothered you. In your long life, you had smelled far worse.

Outside, the rain had finally ceased. The journey back to King’s Landing would be dangerous, but necessary. You could already envision the uproar awaiting your and Jaehaerys’ return. Let them fret; it was no concern of yours.

You gathered what little provisions were left and tucked them into a satchel, slinging it over your shoulder. The food wasn’t for you, of course, but for the prince. He would need his strength if he was to survive the coming days. As you approached Jaehaerys, he looked up at you with a small, fleeting smile—a gesture that melted your dead heart. Without a word, you draped a thick cloak over his shoulders, pulling the hood low to hide his silver Targaryen hair. The last thing you needed was to draw unwanted attention on the road.

The air was damp and heavy as you stepped outside, the smell of wet earth mingling with the distant scent of the ocean. You hoisted the boy onto your horse, his small frame easily fitting in front of you. The skies were still dark, but the rain had stopped for now. With a flick of the reins, the horse began its slow trot down the muddy path.

As you approached the towering walls of King’s Landing, the familiar stench of sweat and desperation thickened in the air. Your grip on Jaehaerys tightened, pulling him closer to you as your sharp senses took in the chaotic scene ahead. The streets swarmed with restless peasants, their voices a cacophony of rage and despair, echoing through the narrow alleyways that led to the Red Keep.

You focused, your hearing tuning into the mob’s cries. They were angry, starved. "Food! Bread!" they screamed, their desperation palpable. The realization struck you almost immediately—Rhaenyra must have sealed off the city. No traders, no merchants, no supplies flowing in. It was a power play, of course. She sought to starve out the opposition within her rightful walls, but it was the smallfolk who suffered most. Typical.

But it was what you saw next that made even your blood freeze.

Through the throngs of people, a procession of white cloaks—Kingsguard—marched proudly through the streets, their armor gleaming in the dimming light of dusk. In their hands, they bore a horrifying trophy: the severed head of a red dragon. Melys, you thought, the Red Queen, her crimson scales dulling in death.

The thought of Daemon’s dragon, Caraxes, crossed your mind briefly, but you dismissed it just as quickly. Daemon was not so easily felled. He was a force of chaos, relentless and unyielding. But Rhaenys... She had fought valiantly for her kin. It had to be her. Aegon had slain her and had the audacity to parade her dragon’s head as if it were some twisted victory.

The crowd grew louder, their protests turning to angry shouts as they watched the grotesque display. You could feel the fear rising among them, but it was overshadowed by the hunger—both for food and for rebellion. The city was on the brink, and Aegon was playing with fire.

Jaehaerys stirred slightly in your arms, oblivious to the grim spectacle unfolding before you. He was innocent in all this, yet he would soon be thrust into the heart of this brutal war. With a final glance at the dragon’s severed head, you urged your horse forward, pulling the hood of Jaehaerys’ cloak lower to shield his Targaryen features. The mob surged around you, but you moved through it like a shadow, unseen and unstoppable.

As you slipped through the shadowed alleys and hidden paths of King’s Landing, the weight of Jaehaerys in your arms was a reminder of just how fragile human life could be. The streets were filled with chaos, but to you, it was nothing. In six hundred years, you had perfected the art of moving unseen, a phantom in the night.

It wasn’t hard to imagine how those men, Daemon had sent, had managed to infiltrate these halls. It was almost laughably easy for you to slip past the guards. They were easily distracted, and you had no trouble avoiding detection.

Your thoughts kept drifting to Aemond, his sharp, striking features, the single violet eye that gleamed with intelligence and ruthlessness. You yearned for him in a way that surprised even you. In all your centuries of existence, through the rise and fall of empires, you had never felt this way about anyone. Aemond had a way of stirring something deep within you—a hunger, not for blood, but for him.

It was strange to admit, even to yourself, but you loved him. In your immortal life, you had seen love twisted and turned into something vile, something manipulative and fleeting. But with Aemond, it was different. His ambition, his fire, even his darkness—those were things you understood, things you were drawn to.

Still, love would have to wait. For now, your priority was Jaehaerys, the boy asleep in your arms, his silver hair tucked away beneath the hood you had wrapped around him. You glided through the hidden corridors of the Red Keep with ease, your steps silent, your presence undetected.

Helaena’s chambers were quiet when you arrived, the door slightly ajar as if awaiting your return. You pushed it open gently, stepping inside to the dimly lit room. Helaena was sitting by the window, her eyes distant and unfocused, lost in her thoughts.

You frowned noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes as the frown that tugged on her lips. “Helaena,” you whispered softly, moving toward her.

Her gaze shifted slowly, her violet eyes blinking as if pulling her from a dream. When she saw Jaehaerys in your arms, her expression changed—a flicker of recognition, of hope. Her lips parted, a gasp escaping her as she stood from her chair.

Helaena breathed out your name softly, her voice fragile, as if uttering it too loudly might cause you to vanish. She rose from her chair, her steps tentative, as if unsure whether you were real or some apparition conjured by her grief. Her eyes glistened with tears, her hands trembling as she reached for you.

You gently placed Jaehaerys in her arms, watching as she clung to him with a desperation that broke your heart. Her tears flowed freely as she kissed his sleeping face, her maternal love rekindled in the boy’s presence. For a moment, the weight of the world lifted from her, her sorrow held at bay by the soft rise and fall of her son’s breathing.

"I knew you weren't dead," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with conviction.

A frown creased your brow, confusion settling over you like a fog. "Why would you think that, Helaena?" you asked softly, your concern growing as you saw the pain etched into her delicate features.

Helaena’s gaze dropped to Jaehaerys as she gently rocked him in her arms, her sorrow palpable in the silence that followed. "Three dead Kingsguard, your carriage burnt to ash... what were we to think?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, the words heavy with the weight of grief she had been carrying.

The shock hit you like a dagger to the chest. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "My carriage... burnt?" The last time you had seen it, it had been intact. And worse, Aemond—he must have thought you perished in the flames.

You could feel the fear rising in you, not for yourself, but for him. What had Aemond been thinking all this time? The very thought of him mourning you sent a pang of sadness through your heart.

You swallowed the rising tide of emotion, forcing a smile to reassure Helaena, though it felt strained and unnatural. Your hand rested gently atop hers, offering comfort the way you always had, with a tender touch and a steady heart. "I am fine, my Queen," you said, your voice soft but firm, hoping your words could ease some of the burden that weighed on her. "Jaehaerys is fine. We are both safe, and that is all that matters now."

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, and for a moment, she seemed to believe you. But you could see the remnants of her anguish still clinging to her, a shadow she could not shake.

Seeing Helaena in such a state—it wounded you, though you could never let it show. You had centuries of practice hiding your own grief, your own longing. But now, with Aemond believing you dead, you felt the familiar weight of sorrow creeping back in.

You had to find him. He needed to know you were alive.

"I have to find Aemond," you murmured, the urgency in your voice betraying the calm you had tried to maintain.

Helaena’s eyes snapped to you, her sorrow deepening as she spoke softly, "He’s changed."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Helaena hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. "The battle at Rook’s Rest," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "He brought down both Rhaenys and Aegon."

You flinched, a ripple of shock running through you. "He killed Aegon?" Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke. Despite Aegon’s many flaws, despite his cruelty, he was still Aemond's brother. How could Aemond have done such a thing?

Helaena shook her head, her expression mournful, weighed down by grief. "No. He didn’t kill him, but he might as well have. Aegon is burnt beyond recognition... A shadow of himself now."

The words hung heavy in the air, and you struggled to grasp them. "Why?" you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. How could Aemond, the man you loved, have let things go so far?

Helaena’s gaze softened, and she pressed another kiss to Jaehaerys' forehead, her voice filled with a melancholy acceptance. "Aegon’s taunts… his cruel words… Perhaps he had enough of being belittled, of being treated as lesser, when in truth, he has always been the stronger of the two."

You could see the weariness in Helaena’s eyes, the understanding of how deep the rift had grown between her brothers. But what you couldn’t understand was how much Aemond had changed in just a week. The man you knew, the one you loved, was fierce and proud, yes, but he had always been measured, calculating. To hear that he had snapped so violently, even against his own kin—it worried you.

But you had to see him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

Without another word, you turned toward the door, your mind already racing with thoughts of Aemond—of the man he had been, and the man he might be now.

Aemond was riding a dangerous high, the taste of victory bitter on his tongue. He had dealt with Aegon—though not as thoroughly as he would have preferred. Aegon still lived, if one could call it living. Burnt beyond recognition, a husk of his former self, barely clinging to life. But it didn’t matter. Aegon was no longer a threat to him, and now, Aemond stood as Prince Regent. His mother’s protests were of no consequence to him anymore. She had forsaken him, after all. Turned her back on him, chosen Aegon despite everything. Well, now he would forsake her.

He clenched his fists tightly as he forced his thoughts away from her disappointment, her judgment. It wasn’t Alicent's rebuke that tormented him now. No, when he allowed his mind to drift, when the battlefield fell quiet and the bloodlust faded, his thoughts always, always came back to you.

And that was a pain he could not bear. The sharp sting in his chest that came whenever he remembered your face, your voice, the way your eyes looked at him with a softness no one else could offer. That softness had been his anchor in a world of chaos, and now it was gone. You were gone. Aemond clenched his jaw, forcing the memories back down, but they refused to be silenced.

You haunted him.

So he clung to the one thing that had never failed him: anger. The rage burned hotter and clearer than any sorrow ever could. Vengeance had always been his closest companion, and now it was the only thing he had left to keep him standing. It was easier to drown in that fire, to let the heat scorch away the grief, than to face the aching emptiness your death had left behind.

Because to truly feel the weight of his heartache—to allow himself to grieve—would be a descent into madness. It would be a slow, deliberate suicide. And Aemond Targaryen would not be destroyed by sorrow. He had survived too much for that.

His face was a mask of cold determination, but inside, the wound you left was bleeding still. Anger was a salve, not a cure, but it was the only thing keeping him alive.

As long as he was angry, he couldn’t be sad. And as long as he avoided sadness, he wouldn’t have to confront the truth: that without you, something in him had already died.

Aemond made his way to his chambers, eager to escape the oppressive weight of the castle and the relentless thoughts swirling in his mind. His steps were heavy, and though he had embraced the cold edge of his anger, exhaustion tugged at the edges of his resolve. He needed a moment, just a fleeting break from the burdens of regency and family strife.

But as he pushed open the door, his breath caught in his throat. Standing in the center of his room, with their back turned, was a figure he knew too well. His entire body froze, heart pounding so violently it hurt. His mind, sharp and disciplined, rebelled against the sight before him. It couldn't be real. It shouldn't be real.

Aemond's throat tightened, and he rubbed his eye, the patch over the other itching against his skin as if willing this cruel vision away. His breaths became shallow, harsh gasps escaping him as the figure turned.

And there you were.

The eyes he had dreamt of, that he had mourned for, were looking back at him, alive with warmth and familiarity. "Aemond," you murmured softly, your voice like a balm to his tormented soul.

He stumbled back, his chest heaving with the effort to contain the surge of emotion ripping through him. You moved toward him, your hands reaching out as if to soothe, but he flinched. The pain in your eyes mirrored his own, though he couldn't understand why. He had believed you dead, and now you stood before him. But his mind, ever cautious, doubted the reality before him.

"You're not real," he choked out, the words leaving his lips like a prayer, desperate and broken.

You faltered for a moment, your face contorting with an expression of pain. But it wasn’t for you—it was for him. "I am real, Aemond," you said firmly, your voice unwavering even as his trembled. Then, softer, you added, "As real as the sun and stars, my love."

Tentatively, he reached out, his hand shaking as he brushed your cheek. The soft warmth of your skin against his palm sent a shock through him. His lone eye stung with tears as he leaned closer, feeling the truth of your presence in the softness of your flesh. And when you leaned into his touch, his entire world seemed to shift.

The sob broke from his chest, raw and aching, as he pulled you into his arms with a fierce desperation. He crushed you against his chest, his face buried in your hair, inhaling the scent he had feared he would never experience again. It was real. You were real. His hands trembled as they tightened around you, holding you as if you might slip away once more.

"You're real," he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips in a reverent chant, as if saying it enough times would make it an undeniable truth. "You're alive."

Tears streamed freely down his face as he clung to you, the walls he had built around his heart crumbling in your presence. You had returned to him, and in this moment, the weight of the world, the rage, the grief—it all faded away in the warmth of your embrace. He whispered your name like a prayer, his chest shaking with the sobs he could no longer control.

The two of you had eventually found your way onto Aemond's bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you, as if afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip. The moonlight spilled softly through the window, casting a gentle glow over the room, but all that mattered in this moment was the warmth of his body beneath yours. You lay on top of him, your noses touching, your breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the night.

And yet, he only stared at you, his eye searching your face as if trying to memorize every inch, every detail. It felt like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"I don’t understand how," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the confusion and longing in his eye clear as he tried to reconcile your presence with the grief he had been drowning in.

You lifted your head slightly, his gaze following your every movement. Gently, you brought a finger to trail down his scar, your touch soft and comforting. His eye fluttered shut at the sensation, as if the weight of the world lifted momentarily under your fingertips.

"Helaena told me what was believed," you began, your voice steady as you prepared to weave the lie once more. "But the truth is, our carriage was ambushed. The Kingsguard were killed." You paused, then continued with conviction, "I escaped with Jaehaerys. My intent was to return."

His eye opened slowly, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his gaze as he asked in a voice that was unusually soft, "Why did it take so long?"

"The prince fell ill on the journey. My only priority was his health, not how quickly we could return," you explained, your lips pressing together in a thin line. "I'm sorry it took so long," you added, guilt weighing your words, though the truth of your ordeal remained hidden beneath layers of carefully constructed deception.

Aemond's expression softened as you rested your head back against him, in the crook of his neck where you could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. "You're here now," he whispered, his voice filled with relief. It seemed as if that was all that mattered to him in this moment.

The silence between you lingered, a peaceful reprieve from the chaos that awaited outside these walls. But after a while, he spoke again, his voice barely breaking the quiet. "I'm Prince Regent now."

You already knew, of course. Helaena had told you, but you wanted to hear it from him. "Helaena told me what happened to Aegon," you said slowly, choosing your words carefully. You had to know the truth, not from Helaena’s recounting but from Aemond himself. You needed to understand what had happened, why he had done what he did.

There was a pause, a silence that stretched on too long before he finally spoke. "He was not supposed to be there. At Rook’s Rest," he said, his voice low and distant, as if recounting a memory he wanted to forget.

Your hand rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. "What happened, Aemond?" you asked, your tone soft but insistent, though part of you dreaded hearing the answer.

Aemond’s face hardened, his eye staring up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "Aegon got what he deserved," he said flatly, his tone almost indifferent. "He was unfit to rule. Unworthy to sit the throne."

His words hit you like a stone sinking into a well, and though you had expected them, it still hurt. Aegon was not a good man. He was cruel, selfish, and unfit to lead, but knowing that Aemond had taken such drastic action—it was a bitter pill to swallow. The world was better without Aegon’s reign, and yet the weight of Aemond’s decision loomed over you.

You studied his face, searching for any hint of remorse, of conflict. "Was it worth it?" you asked quietly, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Aemond didn’t respond. He simply stared at the ceiling, his silence speaking louder than any words could. And you didn’t push him. You knew Aemond better than anyone; his guilt, his anger, and his desire for power all warred within him.

So you lay there, your hand on his chest, letting the silence stretch on, knowing that in time, perhaps, the answers would come. But for now, you were content to simply be there with him.

@esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids @lokisgoddesofpower @anakilusmos @spacexdrago @strawberymilktea @snowtargaryen @fiction-fanfic-reader

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@feelingfaye @sxlsvv @crystal-siren @no-one0804 @tojisprincess @meraxesruin @supernaturalstilinski @emerald-error20 @athanasia-day @mynameisbaby9 @moonstruksandco @mysticalfridge @pugalore @inkandarsenic @ninihrtss @kaitieskidmore97 @boywivlove @motheroffae @cluelessteam @whiteoakoak

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd fanfic #mikaelson #hotd #the originals #hotd x reader

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waynes-multiverse · 1 month ago

Text

Time After Time – Chapter 9

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language & smut, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, sexism/feminism, angst, nightmares, Soldier Boy x Liberty/Stormfront (it hurt lol), heart attack, fluff and feels

Word Count: 13.8k

Posted on Patreon April 25, 2025

A/N: This one is purposefully long with a few small jumps as time goes by 😉 Basically a chapter with a lot of foreshadowing underneath and few heart-crushing lines (from Ben) to drive the dagger in real deep as we ramp up for the big one next week. Enjoy their nausea-inducing love while it lasts! 😘 ✨ Chapter title comes from Casablanca (1942)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: As Time Goes By

At first, there was only warmth.

Your body was curled against his, still cocooned in the afterglow of everything that had unfolded hours ago. The room smelled faintly of his cologne, spiced and clean, and of candlewax, tobacco, and sleep.

Somewhere down the hall, the old house creaked its bones. A radiator hissed. Ben breathed evenly beside you, his broad chest rising and falling with a peace you hadn’t seen on him until tonight.

You might’ve stayed there. You might’ve slept through until morning.

But time didn’t move in straight lines for you. And sleep? Well, it was never as safe as it should’ve been.

Chandeliers. Marble. Chrome. Velvet. It hit like a film reel catching fire.

The world spun sharp and artificial, dripping in gold and red like a club soaked in champagne and blood. Cigarette smoke curled in the air like snakes. It smelt like bourbon and perfume that cost more than rent. The room was closed off and quiet, shut off from everything else, but the faint sounds of jazz music and the hum of a party just going on outside those four walls drowned in.

You knew where you were. Time had a scent, your brain announcing the exact date like a conductor on a train ride informing you about the next stop.

1952.

And there he was.

Ben, a little older. Harsher. Shirt unbuttoned, hair slicked, jaw clean-shaven like a Hollywood star, sitting with his bow legs sprawled out and one arm slung around the back of a velvet chaise lounge like he owned the whole goddamn world.

His smile was all teeth – cold and calculated – and his sparkling green eyes didn’t hold softness, only amusement, like he was constantly bored and waiting to be impressed.

The woman beside him was draped over his shoulder like a mink. Dark-haired, cruel-mouthed, with a cigarette holder dangling between her fingers and a voice like glass shattering. She wore diamonds like knives and a red dress like a challenge. High cheekbones, hard eyes, a smirk like she’d stepped over graves in heels just to make a point.

You knew her, had seen her on the news and in temporal glimpses before. She was American by passport, but her blood sung of Reich-born purity. A survivor – not of war, but of ideology.

Your stomach twisted.

You hated your fucking brain sometimes. You tried to will yourself away, to wake up, to control your dream and powers like the movie Inception had you believing you could.

But there was no escape. You were stuck here. Just another witness to history with no real power.

“I’m starting to think you only invite me to these things so you can show me off,” she said, fingers crawling up his chest.

Ben raised his champagne flute in salute and smirked. “You’re not wrong.”

She rolled her eyes. “And here I thought American men were supposed to be subtle.”

“Subtlety is for men who don’t already own the room.”

She giggled like dark silk. “You always were too soft when I met you. That little streak of sweetness? It was disgusting.”

Ben leaned in, one hand on her knee, corrupted by time and power. “You cured me of that.”

Your stomach tightened more. You wanted to throw up, felt the bile rise in your throat. But you stood there – still, just part of the wallpaper.

The woman purred, pleased. “Good. Sentimentality makes men soft.”

“Softer they are,” he said, chuckling, “the easier they are to break when we crush them underfoot.”

And for a heartbeat, it felt like he found your eyes across the room and was looking directly at you, sucking the oxygen from your lungs one atrocious word at a time.

Her laugh was low and theatrical, like someone who hadn’t meant it in years. “The famous golden boy. America’s sweetheart. You used to have a conscience, you know. Always trying to protect the weaklings.”

Ben snorted, his smile weaponized. “Conscience got in the way. I got over it.”

You stiffened, heart breaking into sharp pieces and shattering to the polished marble floors by your feet like a broken mirror – but this seemed like more than just seven years of bad luck ahead.

She clicked her tongue, pleased, her fingers trailing along his razor-sharp jawline in awe. “That serum really did a number on you.”

“It just cleared the fog.”

“That’s my boy.” She smirked cruelly, leaning in, her red-painted lips grazing his neck, his hand hitching higher on her thigh. “Humanity is a failed experiment. Mercy is fiction and compassion a leash. Good thing you cut yours a long time ago.”

Ben didn’t flinch. He grinned – soulless, hollow, and wolfish. “They’re all goddamn insects. Screaming about meaning. Scratching at their cages. They only pretend they’re free.”

“I heard there was another fire at a protest downtown,” she said coolly, swirling her drink. “Shame. What a loss.”

“Should’ve picked a better cause.” Ben laughed darkly into his glass. “Let them march. Let them scream. We’re built to outlast them. That’s what the serum proved, didn’t it?”

She nodded, shifting into his lap, straddling him. “We’re evolution. The end of weakness.”

Your breath caught somewhere in your chest, heart pounding behind your ribs like a prisoner as Ben looked at her like he respected her cruelty. He kissed her then, harsh and possessive.

Their laughter spilled across the room like gasoline. You felt your skin burning with hellfire.

“And you worried I couldn’t handle it,” Ben then said, mocking, grip tight on her hips. “Said I had a fuckin’ heart. That I might hesitate.”

“You proved me wrong. All that kindness in you – it was just programming. The real you was underneath. The serum just stripped the softness off.” She smiled like she was proud of the creation he’d become. Her masterpiece. “That’s why my husband picked you. He wanted someone the public could worship. The boy next door with a monster underneath.”

Ben laughed, a sound that didn’t belong to the man you knew. “Christ, they bought it, too. The press, the soldiers, even the politicians. Especially the politicians… All I had to do was smile and they opened every fuckin’ door. Learned to speak their language. Talk about patriotism. Family. Hard work.” His sneer turned as sharp as the combat knife he carried. “Makes it easier to gut them when they’re not lookin’.”

Your nausea morphed to white-hot anger the longer you listened to them, but you slowly began to understand why you were here – why your brain wanted to remind you of this.

You weren’t supposed to forget, to fantasize. You were supposed to remember the version of him who let a monster crawl into his lap, kiss his mouth, whisper hatred into his soul, and called it fucking foreplay.

And she laughed like he was the funniest man in the world. Of course she did –low and delighted. “You’re darker than I expected, Benjamin.”

“I always was. Just needed the right company.”

That one hurt the most, a piercing dagger to your heart, slicing it in two without a care in the universe.

They clinked their glasses, celebrating superiority.

“The world will learn,” she murmured against his skin, lips brushing his ear as she set both their drinks aside. “Not all at once. But they will. Through collapse. Through fire. Through obedience. You play the golden hero. Meanwhile, you leave bodies under rubble and call it collateral.”

She sounded like a fucking manifesto.

You felt yourself shaking, a tremble that ran bone-deep. This version of him didn’t love. Didn’t mourn. Didn’t feel. He was what happened when power met emptiness and got everything it fucking wanted.

And then you watched her kiss him. Messy. Thoughtless. More dominance than desire. Ben grinned against her lips but didn’t kiss her back with any real heat. You could tell it was a game to him, something to stave off the boredom.

She slid his shirt open, dragging blood-red nails across bronzed and freckled skin. She ground against him, and he tugged her closer, palm running up her spine.

They collapsed back onto the velvet chaise in a tangle of limbs and silk and smug disdain. Every movement was transactional. Purposeful. His hands roamed her body like territory, hers clawed at his shoulders like she was digging her name into the surface of a monument. She dragged her mouth down his chest, biting hard enough to bruise, and he laughed – like it was all just theater.

Like none of it meant a damn thing.

You jolted awake like a punch to the gut, air tearing into your lungs too fast, too sharp, scalding and aching like you’d been holding your breath under water. Sweat clung to your skin, hair damp against your neck. The sheet tangled around your waist felt like chains.

“God,” you groaned, dragging a hand across your face. “Not that fucking Nazi bitch.”

Jesus fucking Christ, why her? Why couldn’t you just watch him fuck Crimson Countess instead? At least that woman was only painfully stupid and not evil in a delete-the-human-race kind of way.

Your heart hammered so loudly you didn’t even notice the body stirring behind you. The blanket fell to your sides as you sat there, gasping for air, like you’d clawed your way out of another world – or fucking Hell. You weren’t quite sure.

“Hey,” Ben's voice broke through the fog, groggy with sleep but alert as he sat up next to you. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You didn’t answer at first. You were still there – still seeing his hands on her hips, the twisted smile he wore, the dismissive way he talked about human beings like they were goddamn gum stuck to his combat boots.

Ben watched you closely in the pale wash of the moonlight, green eyes adjusting. You could feel the heat of him beside you – bare chest, sleepy hair, hot breath. His skin was still warm, still familiar, but your own felt like it had been scorched raw.

And for a second, you hated your own brain. Hated how it blurred the lines so easily.

“Jesus, you’re shaking.” His voice lost its sleep-soft edge. “Are you okay?”

You flinched when his hand tentatively splayed across your shoulder, fingers brushing the edge of your spine like he didn’t want to spook you. It wasn’t intentional – you hadn’t meant to, your muscles locking up under his touch on reflex.

And he noticed. Of course he did.

Ben froze, swallowing. “Sorry,” he said quickly, drawing his hand back. “Didn’t mean to–… Did I–… Did I do something?”

God, it wasn’t fair he asked you that. What a fucking loaded question.

“No, uhm, no–” You shook your head quickly. “Just a dream, okay? Go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Well, uhm, I’m awake now,” he said in a lightly joking tone, ruffling a hand through his hair. He was quiet for a moment, teeth gnawing on his lower lip, still thinking about daring to touch you again. He didn’t know if he could. If you wanted him to.

His hand jittered with the need to hold you.

“Bad dream?” he asked quietly, lump stuck in his throat, breaths of uncertainty fanning against your shoulder blade.

You nodded, swallowed. You tucked your knees up to your chest, hugged them instead of him.

“You have these a lot, huh?”

“Every night.”

Silence again.

Ben shifted beside you, his weight sinking into the mattress as he leaned in slightly. “I didn’t know. Why did you never say anything?”

You huffed a laugh – dry, fragile. “Well, I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed with anyone.”

You tried to ignore, fight how your skin began to crawl in his proximity. They were two different people, looked at you differently, but the voice – that deep, rich baritone – it was still the same that had said all those awful things and meant them.

“Right.” Ben smacked his lips, and you could hear the cogs turning in his head without even looking at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, look, I said I’m fine,” you snapped. A little too harshly. Too unfairly. You exhaled a sigh through your nose. “I’m sorry. Just–… Give me a minute, alright?”

You made the grave mistake of glancing over your shoulder and finding his eyes. And he looked at you like he worried. Like he cared. Like he fucking loved.

It goddamn near killed you.

“I always thought you were running from something,” Ben said softly when the silence had stretched on too long. “When you first showed up, you looked like hell. And when I offered you a place, you looked like I’d offered you a way out of a burning house.”

And it almost broke you that he didn’t know he was the fucking fire you were constantly trying to escape.

He went quiet for a second, eyes flickering across your face in the dark. You could feel it – his mind working on overdrive, trying to piece together the right thing to say without making anything worse.

And you didn’t mean to – you really didn’t – when his fingers reached for your arm and you jerked away again. Fucking muscle memory.

You hated someone with his face but none of his soul.

“Ben, please–… Please don’t touch me right now,” you begged quietly, desperately, and avoided looking at him like he was the ruin of something that once felt sacred.

But this time, you might’ve broken something inside of him.

And he snapped.

His hand shot out and grabbed your arm, spinning you to face him before you could pull away. His other hand locked around your jaw. Not soft. Not careful. His grip was all tension, all desperation – like holding you in place was the only thing keeping him from splintering in half.

He was trying to hold the world together, trying to hold you together. And sure, you could've easily used your powers and bolted out of there, twisted his arm clean off his body, but your love for him kept you tethered in place like it always did.

All you needed was a second to clear your head, really.

“No,” Ben bit. His voice was raw, harsh, fingers tightening around your arm. “You don’t get to shut me out anymore. Not after last night.”

“Ben–” You struggled in his arms, squirming against him. “Let go–”

“No. Not this time. Not until you look at me.” His voice cracked with hurt, and you found his eyes. “You keep pushing me away like I’m the enemy. Like I’m gonna hurt you, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Your breath stuttered, and he saw it. Saw the flicker in your eyes. The way you wouldn’t meet his.

And it fucking gutted him.

Ben stared at you, jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, after last night? After everything you gave me… after everything we did – you’re really gonna look at me like that?”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Yeah, you did,” he cut in, the wound you sliced even audible in his tone. “You meant it. You mean it right now. You won’t even let me touch you.”

You stilled in his grip, shoulders drawn tight.

“Last night, you let me see every damn part of you–” His fingers curled around your waist, dragging you closer, like he needed to feel your heartbeat against his own. “You let me touch you. You let me in. And I touched every inch of you, sweetheart. You don’t just get to take that back like it didn’t mean a goddamn thing.”

“It’s not about that–”

“Then what is it about? Huh?” His eyes burned, voice rasping as he pushed forward. “You think I don’t see it? The way you push me away like I’m gonna rip you apart? You think I don’t know something’s eating you alive? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna let you drown five fucking feet away from me.”

“It’s not that simple,” you breathed, your voice hoarse.

Your hands pressed to his chest, trying to create distance, but he leaned in anyway, nose brushing the side of your cheek as he anchored you there. Close. Inescapable.

“That’s not good enough,” he said, pulling you closer still, sheets slipping dangerously low between you. “It’s like you’re waiting for me to let you down. Like you’re… bracing for it. And I don’t know how to prove to you that I won’t. I’m not gonna disappoint you.”

But you will, your mind argued.

Not him. Not this version. But the man who sat on that velvet chaise with blood still under his fingernails. The one who only saved lives because the headlines said it made him look good.

“Ben, please…” The tears came hard and fast, burning your eyes and skin like acid rain.

“I know what I saw,” he said, voice rough but steady, like he was grounding himself in the truth. “I know what I felt. You didn’t just give me your body – you gave me you. You gave me your goddamn heart.” He paused, swallowed, fingers digging deeper into your flesh. But he didn’t look away, not even for a second. He held your gaze, jaw tight. “And I gave you mine. You know I did. I guess… somewhere along the line, you got under my skin, and now you’re in my goddamn bones, sweetheart. Can’t fucking erase that.”

You sucked in a breath like your life depended on it, lungs close to collapsing in on themselves. “You don’t understand,” you argued weakly, barely audible but loud enough in the quiet morning hours.

“Then make me,” Ben said. It wasn’t a demand – it was a plea. “I’m not asking for all of it. Hell, I’m not asking for most of it. Just–… Don’t make me the villain in some nightmare I wasn’t even in.”

You trembled in his grip, your body alive with guilt, indecision, and terror, and for a moment, you wanted to push him away, to pull back into the secret bunker you’d built. How could you explain all of it to him? How did you tell someone the thing you were terrified of was a future only you could see?

You couldn’t say anything, and you couldn’t escape your feelings either. You were too close. The heat of him, the rawness in his eyes – it was everything you wanted.

And everything you fucking feared.

Ben’s thumbs brushed under your eyes, catching the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Hey,” he said quietly like he was trying to keep you from falling apart. “It’s me. I’m right here. Always. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

You closed your eyes, breath catching in your throat. His other hand tightened its grip at the back of your neck, not rough but steady. Anchoring you.

“I’m strong enough, okay?” Ben’s voice dropped, low and desperate and full of promises he’d never be able to keep. “Whatever you’re carrying, I can handle it. I’m strong enough to carry it, I swear to God.”

You couldn’t speak. The weight of his words pressed down on you like a thousand stones, each one heavier than the last. You didn’t know what to say. So you just made a small, broken sound in your throat and pressed your forehead softly against his, nodding, unable to fight the pull anymore.

But you weren’t giving in. You were just giving up.

Ben’s breath ghosted over your lips, and you could feel the way he was holding himself back. He didn’t close the gap between you. You felt it, felt the way his chest heaved, the way he was trying so damn hard to give you space.

“You think people are good?” you whispered your question into the silence of the night, as if asking it too loudly during daylight would provoke a wrong answer.

Ben blinked, hesitated. “What do you mean – like, deep down?”

You nodded in his palms, and he didn’t answer right away, worrying his bottom lip.

“When I was a kid,” he said eventually, “I used to think so. Thought people were trying their best, that everyone had a little good in them if you looked hard enough.”

“And now?”

He looked away for a beat, to your hand on the mattress, brows faintly furrowed. “Now I think… some people are just mean. They like power or control or watching something break in their hands. Doesn’t make them broken. Just makes them what they are.”

You remained quiet.

“But there’s still good ones too,” he added, softer. “I just think they’re harder to find.”

“What changed your mind?”

“My old man, mostly.” He huffed a small chuckle, humorless. “I think most people would rather double down than admit they were ever wrong, you know?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding once more. “Do you ever think people deserve second chances no matter what?”

Ben wet his lips in thought before answering. “I think it depends on the person. The choice. What they do after the mistake.”

“And what if they don’t know they’re lost?” you asked.

He glanced at you again. “Then someone’s gotta be willing to help them find their way back.”

You swallowed hard. God, you wanted to believe him.

“Even if they’ve done unforgivable things?”

This time, Ben was quiet for a moment longer.

“I think if someone’s trying – really trying – to be better, then yeah. I think redemption’s possible. But not everyone wants that. Not everyone deserves it.”

That landed somewhere heavy in your gut.

“I think the problem is,” you said and found his eyes, “people always want to believe they’re the hero. Even when they’re not.”

Ben tilted his head. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, huh?”

You looked away and nodded. “Lately.”

He didn’t push.

“I used to think,” you whispered, “that there were good people and bad people. And if you were lucky, you’d find someone good and hold onto them. But it’s not that simple, is it?”

It was so easy to want to trust him like this. So easy to believe in the version of him lying inches away, heart in his eyes. The one who made you laugh. The one who’d give you the world.

“No, uh, I guess not,” Ben said quietly, the confusion etched into his brow, still wondering, still trying to figure out what your questions meant.

After a moment, you eased back under the covers, swirling head hitting the pillow. Ben mirrored your movements and lay down next to you, but you didn’t move closer.

He shifted – just enough to be near, not enough to touch. Then he reached out, slowly, and let his hand rest between you, palm up on the bed. A silent offering. Not a demand.

You stared at it – and then tentatively placed your fingers in his. He gave your hand the gentlest squeeze.

Warm. Steady.

Grounding.

You studied him for a few pounding heartbeats, lying there, facing each other, hand in his. And all you could think about was how you never wanted this version of him to go away – the good one.

It was unfathomable, too much for most to grasp, how this man next to you – the sweet one, the kind one – could ever say and do all these vicious and barbaric things.

Didn’t that mean those parts had always been there? Even now? How could such vile seeds sprout and blossom in only ten years?

Math was the universe’s answer to everything, but it still couldn’t answer you this.

“Want to tell me a stupid story?” you asked suddenly, your heart seeking to find the light within him.

Ben’s brow lifted. “Like what?”

“Like… childhood. Teenage embarrassment,” you said, your lips involuntarily twitching with a smile as you watched him.

Ben chuckled, carding a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Alright, when I was a kid – I’m talking seven or eight – I tried to impress this girl from the neighborhood by building her a treehouse. Except I didn’t actually know how to build, well… anything. So I used cardboard boxes and tied them together with string.”

You snorted, smile spreading. “Let me guess… it collapsed?”

“Oh, immediately.” Ben laughed. “While she was climbing into it.”

“Oh no, poor girl.” You bit back your own laugh.

“She scraped her knees and never spoke to me again.”

Your teeth tugged on your lower lip, the smile barely containable underneath. “So you’ve always been charming, huh?”

“Charming and tragically underqualified,” he said with a wink.

“I don’t think you’re underqualified in all areas of life,” you teased cheekily, watching the dimples form as the boyish smile rose.

“Well, uh, thank you. Glad you think so.” He scratched his throat and blushed. Actually blushed. Like all he really was, was just the boy next door.

“What about birthdays? What was your favorite one?” you asked with innocent curiosity.

But the smile faded.

“Oh, uhm…” He hesitated and cleared his throat before he decided to answer. “We-, uh, we didn’t really celebrate birthdays. My-, uh, my father always said birthdays were earned and that I hadn’t done a damn thing worthy of a cake or a song. Said you don’t get to be celebrated for simply being born.”

The ache that bloomed in your chest was slow, wide, and throbbing. “Ben–”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was shaking off the pain. “I didn’t know any better. I was a kid. Just thought that was normal, you know? No parties. No presents. No cake. He always thought birthdays were indulgent. Wasteful.”

“And your mother?” you asked softly.

You knew Margaret had shut down eventually, probably because of reasons just like this one, but you also knew it must’ve broken her heart that her son didn’t even get something as innocent as cake for his own birthday.

Ben exhaled a long sigh. “She tried, I guess. She used to sneak a cupcake into the garden. Said it was ‘just because it’s Tuesday.’”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, barely able to hold your tears back.

“Don’t be. Had a good life. Better than most,” Ben said and looked at you as if he knew you hadn’t. “You know, sometimes, I’d wait until the whole house was asleep. No staff, no lights. Just me... I’d tiptoe past the study, even when it was empty – because God forbid I woke him up – and I’d sneak a slice of cake from the kitchen. Hell, sometimes even bread if that’s all we had left that day.”

Silence settled again, softer now, the tension gone. Ben tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing his knuckles along your jaw.

And then it hit you – a memory. Not a distant one. One from here. The first dinner you’d shared with him in this house.

Ben never got to celebrate his own birthday, but he made sure you had yours. He gave you what he’d never been given. And not because you’d expected it. But because he’d wanted to.

“That night, after I told you it was my birthday, you gave me cake,” you said.

Ben’s lips curled into a soft smile as if he knew you’d put it together now – that it hadn’t been just cake.

“I didn’t think it meant much to you,” you added, the realization almost too much.

You’d just been a stranger back then, and he’d still done the kindest gesture for you. Something so personal it bordered on heartbreak.

“Didn’t it, though?” he asked, green eyes twinkling with something more than amusement. His tongue swiped over his teeth, fingers stilling the little circles he’d been absentmindedly drawing on your skin. “You said it so casually back then. Like you stopped expecting something a long time ago. Like your birthday didn’t matter. And I-, well, I guess I just figured it should, you know?” Then he gave a shrug like he hadn’t just turned your whole world upside down. “You should have what I didn’t. Simple as that.”

Simple.

“You remember the projector you gave me?” he asked then, catching you off guard.

“Yeah, wasn’t even sure you liked it,” you replied.

“I-… I didn’t know what to say,” he admitted. “No one’s ever done something like that for me. Given me something just because they thought I deserved it, you know? Not because they had to or because they wanted something. You just did it so casually.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “Just figured you might like it.”

“But it was a big deal… to me,” he said, swallowing thickly. “You know, I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to figure out what to give you in return. You don’t seem like a jewelry person. And flowers and chocolates seem like they’re not good enough.”

Your lips twitched with a faintly amused smile. “It’s called affection, Ben. You don’t have to trade me livestock.”

Ben snorted a breath of laughter. “Well, livestock would’ve been easier to figure out.”

The silence that followed was thick and warm and golden.

And you looked at him then, really looked – like you’ve done so many times before whenever those doubts and fears crept back into your mind – and could see none of the monster you ran from in the future.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d already changed the outcome. Maybe you being here, right now in his arms, in this moment with him, was enough to undo all the damage and aches.

If anyone could find a way to cheat the system, it was you.

And then, you finally scooted closer, Ben welcoming you fully into his embrace, his warmth, protective hands steady on your skin. He still didn’t push. He waited.

For you to lean in. For you to let go.

Your lips brushed against his – tentative, testing, and then tempestuous. The fears, the worries, the whole world dropped away in that moment – no clock, no consequence.

You sank into him, into the gravity of it – the ache and the safety, the chaos and the calm, the ruin and the refuge.

The kiss hit like a wave – hard, fast, breathless. Your mouths crashed together, teeth scraping, lips bruising. You gripped his shoulders like you were drowning, dragging him closer, deeper, until his arms locked around you like he’d die if you slipped away again.

Ben groaned into your mouth, one hand fisting in your hair, the other sliding down your back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. You whimpered when he bit your lower lip, and he growled when you yanked his hair in return.

Reverent, raw, ruined.

He was coaxing you back to life, setting your skin alight with every haunting touch.

His breath hitched when your palms pressed against his shoulders, easing him back down onto the mattress. He went without a word, without resistance, letting you take him under like the tide.

You climbed over him, bracketing his hips, the soft morning light painting your skin in dabbled gold.

Ben watched you as your fingers ran across his chest, over the plane of muscle, the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch. The way his throat moved, the flicker in his forest green eyes – there was a vulnerability there he almost never let anyone see.

You kissed the space above his heart and felt it stutter beneath your lips. His hands smoothed up your thighs – but he didn’t dare to grab, didn’t dare to pull. You could feel the heat of him pressed between you, hard and ready and still waiting for you to decide.

To take.

And then the knocking started – frantic, sharp, and out of place in the hush of dawn.

Ben stilled beneath you, brow furrowing and grip tightening, a groan of frustration escaping low from his throat as his head sunk back into the pillows.

“Mr. Benjamin? Ben? Please–”

Florence.

Three more rapid thuds against the heavy oak door followed before you both started to move. You slid off Ben and slipped under the covers as he scrambled out of bed and reached for his slacks, still half-crumpled on the floor.

You could see how he steeled himself, the invisible armor you’d watched him peel off last night reforming before he opened the door. You clutched the sheets tighter to your chest, fighting the embarrassed flush in your cheeks.

You, naked in Ben’s bed, would surely make it into the morning newsletter of the staff gossip.

And then Florence stood there in the hallway, in her pale morning dress, her apron wrinkled, her bun slightly askew – something you’d never seen before. Her knuckles were white around the edge of the doorframe.

“It’s your father,” she said without preamble. “He collapsed near the study. I believe it was his heart.”

Ben went still. Not a muscle moving, not a breath escaping.

And you? Well, you slowly started to panic internally as the seconds ticked by. Had you–? Were you–?

No…

“I’ve rung Dr. Norwood. He’s on his way.” She then glanced behind him, and her mouth twitched – whether in approval or concern, you couldn’t tell. “I thought you should know.”

Ben swallowed once. “Did he say anything?”

“He was conscious. Barely. Couldn’t get up.” Her voice softened, and this time, the worry was unmistakable. “You should come down.”

Ben gave a nod, automatic, and turned back to you – expression unreadable, jaw tight.

“Stay here,” he said quietly, already pulling a shirt over his head.

“Do you need–”

“I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded, and he was gone.

The county fair stretched wide under the June sun, the air thick with the mingling smells of grilled sausage, fried dough, and the sweet scent of cotton candy and kettle corn.

The fairgrounds buzzed with color and laughter: a brass band played ragtime near the main pavilion, children darted through clusters of hay bales, women in cotton dresses strolled beneath bunting-draped stalls, and sunlight turned the dust into gold as it kicked up beneath worn boots and saddle shoes alike.

Ben walked with his hand firmly laced in yours, a half-melted lemonade in the other. And all the while, he’d brush his thumb over your wrist, leaning in close to whisper something private (and dirty) into your ear or kiss your temple when you laughed with your head back.

You should probably preface this by stating that, over the last three and a half months, Ben had been happier than he’d ever been.

Mornings spent tangled up in bed, late-night drives to nowhere, afternoons where the only agenda was you.

He smiled more. Touched more. Laughed more. Everything was blissfully fine.

And Ben’s father? Well, the bastard survived, so there really was nothing to feel guilty over.

Sure, some people would claim you were – directly or indirectly – responsible for that man’s heart attack.

Indirectly for instigating his wife to start a feminist revolution at the dinner table and seducing his son to rebel against the best-laid plans. But really, you had just been a supporting character with a natural curiosity. Could someone seriously blame you for this?

And sure, some would be all too quick to point a finger at you for your direct involvement by stopping that dick’s heart for barely a breath.

It had been less than five seconds, alright? And it wasn’t like he’d dropped immediately after you’d done it. There had been several hours between those two completely unrelated incidents. Besides, the man smoked, drank, ate fatty red meat, and harbored rage issues like there was no tomorrow, so who was to say you were responsible for his little health scare?

Cause and effect could not definitively be proven and as sure as hell wouldn’t hold up in a court of law. Anything could’ve taken that tyrant down a notch.

It wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t almost killed your boyfriend’s father. End of story.

And if anything, if you truly had been a tiny bit responsible, the universe should’ve written you a goddamn thank you note. You’d practically gifted everyone in the mansion a fucking vacation.

Ben was happier. The staff was happier. And Margaret was downright drunk on life.

As soon as her husband had been wheeled away, she’d already picked out a private clinic in Switzerland before she even asked if he’d survived. Sadly, Richard Brooks, ever the controlling business magnate, didn’t go for it and set up camp at an exclusive convalescent clinic nestled in the wooded hills of Bryn Mawr instead – just outside the city.

The estate-turned-sanatorium catered to men like the Brooks patriarch – powerful, prideful, unwilling to be seen at their weakest.

And for the first time in his life, Ben had space to breathe. His father still sent for him once a week, doling out sharp instructions between rounds of rest and rehab, but the weight of his daily presence was gone.

Margaret, on the other hand, never visited her husband at all. She saw him once when he was still at the hospital in Philadelphia, but during that visit, you hadn’t been quite sure if she hadn’t just been aiming to give him another heart attack that would stick the way she’d been relentlessly antagonizing him.

And now, you were here, on a warm Saturday in late June, meeting two of Ben’s friends for the first time – a schoolmate from Choate, Quentin, and his sharp-tongued girlfriend, Josie. The four of you made an easy group – flushed from sun and sugar, teasing each other like you’d known one another for years.

“That’s the third pie sample you’ve taken,” Josie pointed out with a mock-scandalized gasp, giggling as she watched you go for a blueberry flavor this time. “You know they’re gonna make you buy one.”

“I’m just being thorough,” you said, licking your thumb. “It's a civic duty. What if someone sold subpar pie?”

“She’s a patriot.” Ben chuckled, leaning close to brush a smudge of berry off your cheek. “Upholding American values. God bless her.”

Josie rolled her eyes and elbowed her boyfriend. “Do you think they’re always like this?”

Quentin grinned. “Well, I’ve only known her an hour, but I’d put money on it.”

“You’ve still got a little bit of jam on your lips,” Ben murmured, brushing his thumb by the corner of your mouth. His tone was warm, teasing, and far too amused. And by his little smirk, you knew there was no jam at all. “Want me to kiss it away?”

Cheekily, you nodded, grinned, and draped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss before he could do it himself. And both of you still smiled all the way into the kiss, not being able to stop.

Behind you, Josie let out a soft laugh. “God, you two are revolting.”

Quentin lifted a brow, amused. “They’re adorable. Leave them alone.”

“No, seriously,” Josie said, sidling up beside you. “It’s like watching the first ten minutes of a musical before someone starts singing on a balcony.”

You turned to her with mock offense. “I haven’t burst into song once.”

Untrue. You sang and played piano at the mansion all the time – especially for Ben.

Josie smirked. “Give it time. You’ve got that look in your eyes.”

Ben frowned, glancing down at you. “What look?”

“The ‘I’m-in-love-and-mildly-dazed’ look,” Josie clarified, clearly delighted. “It’s the same face Quentin made when he saw me eat five corn dogs in a row last year.”

Quentin nodded solemnly. “I’d never known love before that moment.”

You and Josie burst into laughter, while Ben only rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He just slipped his hand around your waist and pulled you subtly into his side.

You then nudged Josie playfully. “Let’s ditch them before they start flexing over who can throw a horseshoe farther.”

Josie smiled, linking arms with you. “Agreed. The boys can grunt and puff all they want while we go get kettle corn and admire the handmade quilts.”

Aside from Dottie, you hadn’t exactly made that many friends yet in this time period. You’d almost been elated when Ben had suggested an outing with some of his closest friends. He’d never introduced you to someone from his life before who didn’t live in the mansion or worked at the steel mill – much less as his girlfriend.

But he had said the word so casually and easily today, full of pride even, that it made your heart swell and soar like a hot air balloon. You knew this was a big step. Something was settling.

But that familiar itching feeling still gnawed on you. Not as often. Not as prominent. But still there.

You knew you used to have friends where you came from, but their faces were blurry and their names just always on the tip of your tongue. You forgot parts of your childhood too, which arguable wasn’t the worst.

Your memories were fading.

Never the big things but the details.

You still knew you grew up in a trailer park. The town? Gone. You knew you were from the East Coast, though.

You knew you had studied physics in Montreal and could remember the contents of your textbooks like the back of your hand but not the teachers who taught them to you.

You knew you’d lived in a ground floor apartment in New York, tucked underneath a stairwell, but you couldn’t remember the district or your own kitchen sink.

However, without fail, you could always remember him – and you had no idea why.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped, not even a little. It was like your brain was sacrificing memory capacities to remind you of the danger sleeping in your bed. But whenever you woke up – panting, sweat-drenched, and with fear in your eyes – Ben would just be there and hold you, not saying a word.

Ben watched you disappear toward the artisan tents, arm looped through Josie’s. His eyes lingered on the soft sway of your hips in the yellow sundress, a fond, secret smile grazing the corners of his mouth.

Quentin let out a low whistle next to him, chuckling. “Oh, buddy, you’ve got it bad.”

“Hm, what?” Ben snapped out of his daze, blinking at his friend.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Quentin noted, a subtle smile creeping onto his face.

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Lighter.” Quentin gestured vaguely. “Like you’re not carrying around the weight of seven generations of Brooks men on your shoulders.”

That made Ben snort. The men then drifted away from the girls toward the edge of the field, where a few picnic tables sat beneath the lazy shade of oak trees. The noise of the fair dulled behind them, replaced by the hum of cicadas.

“She’s good for you,” Quentin said then, watching Ben lean against the trunk of a tree.

“Yeah, she makes it easy,” Ben replied simply, toying with an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

“Not a sentence I ever expected from your mouth.” Quentin smirked. “I’m honestly still trying to figure out how exactly you pulled this off.”

“Oh, trust me. So do I.” Ben huffed a small laugh. “She just showed up one day. Like she knew where to find me.”

“So, what’s next?”

Ben didn’t speak right away. His gaze wandered to where you were pointing something out to Josie at the ring toss booth, your hands moving animatedly like you were explaining physics again while your hair caught sunlight like gold thread.

“I’m looking at houses,” Ben replied after a beat.

Quentin’s brows shot up. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, but not in the city – outside. Big yard, porch. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can build something that’s mine. Ours,” Ben stated but didn’t look up, too coolly pocketing his hands in his slacks.

“Wow. So this is real.” Quentin blinked, then thoughtfully licked his lips. “What about your old man? You think he’s finally ready to relinquish control when he comes back?”

“No.” Ben let out an amused laugh at the idea alone. “But I don’t need him – or his money. I can do this on my own. I know what I want now.”

“Which is?”

Ben hesitated, then looked out over the fair – at the sunlight spilling like honey across the grass, at the crowd, at the space you’d just disappeared into.

“Peace. A home that’s mine. Her in it.”

Quentin studied his friend for a moment, then gave a sly grin. “So, are you going to marry her too or just haunt a porch together like a pair of charming ghosts?”

Ben chuckled softly but didn’t deny it, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it.”

Quentin raised an impressed brow. “Jesus, you really are gone.”

“Well, I’m not rushing it. It’s more of a someday kind of thing,” Ben assured, but there was a faint smile playing across his lips.

“Does she know about all your plans?”

Ben shook his head. “Not yet. I wanna show her first. Want it to be right for both of us. Not sure she’s ready yet, you know?”

Quentin nodded slowly, then teased, “You always were a sentimental bastard underneath the attitude.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone.” Ben chuckled lightly. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Quentin slapped a hand on his shoulder, firm and approving. “Well, do me a favor and don’t propose till I’m ready to pop the question to Josie. Otherwise she might raise Cain if she finds out you of all people got there first.”

“Hey, no promises.” Ben laughed, amused.

He smiled when his eyes found you in the crowd again, the love in his chest a steady thrum. Not loud. Not showy.

Permanent.

The Ferris wheel, now aglow in soft pastel lights, turned slow and deliberate against the dusky indigo sky when the sun had dipped below the horizon.

String lights blinked like stars strung across booths, and somewhere in the distance, a fiddle played the opening bars of a waltz. Children carried oversized stuffed animals and parents carried yawning toddlers.

Ben helped you climb into the swaying seat, his arm settling around your shoulders, and you instinctively leaned in.

“Gotta say, that’s probably the most romantic thing you’ve done so far,” you teased Ben, nudging him in the ribs a little.

He smirked that lazy, boyish grin again – the one that flipped your insides upside down. “Wait until I get you to the top.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

God knows that man could never keep his hands to himself. You wouldn’t have put it past him to go third base on top of a Ferris wheel.

“Depends on how much you like heights.” He winked.

Yup, as expected.

But once the fairgrounds blurred into a mosaic of warm, twinkling lights below you, he actually surprised you by tucking you closer to his chest.

“You ever been on one of these before?” Ben asked, his own natural curiosity about you peeking through once more.

Sometimes he’d ask you about your life, your childhood, your memories from school or Christmas, and you actually would’ve loved sharing those moments with him – good or bad.

However, there was one tiny problem:

“Uh, I can’t remember.” You shrugged and tried to be as subtle and casual as possible about it. “Maybe, yeah. When I was a kid.”

Ben pecked your temple but never pressed. Somehow, even without knowing the full truth, he seemed to sense the borders of what you could say – and what you couldn’t.

It wasn’t always easy – carrying this big secret around like a second brain. You didn’t even fully understand the rules – whether staying longer meant damaging something, whether loving him harder meant losing him faster. The equations on your chalkboard hadn’t yielded positive results so far. But in moments like this, you wanted to believe time could bend enough to make space for both of you.

Ben then grew quiet next to you – thinking, brooding. And you knew by now that something was on his mind again. Probably his father. That was usually when he became uncharacteristically mute – like someone had tied a weight around his throat to choke him.

“You always get this contemplative at high altitudes?” you teased.

Ben’s mouth twitched. “Only when I’m weighing the pros and cons of throwing myself off something tall.”

“Jesus, not dramatic at all, are we?”

He exhaled a sigh through his nose. “He comes back next week.”

Ah. There it is…

Three months worth of spending nights and days with him had sort of morphed you into an expert on all things him.

“Clinic says he’s well enough to return to his usual routine. Which means barking orders, throwing parties, and pretending nothing ever happened. He’s throwing his annual Fourth of July party. Same thing he does every year. Big, loud, obnoxious, too many cigars. Wants it to be his ‘triumphant return to society.’”

“Huh. Like Caesar marching back from Gaul,” you quipped.

Too bad you’d already played Ides of March with that man.

Ben snorted. “You’re not wrong. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s expecting a big military flyover.”

“Classy.” Your smile then faded slightly, chewing your lower lip. “I’m not invited, I’m guessing.”

Ben’s silence was answer enough.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly and forced a smile. “I’ll just stay in my room. Ration my chocolates, write in my journal about the war effort, and look longingly out the window like I’m in a Jane Austen novel.”

Ben turned toward you, brow furrowed. “You’re not staying in your room. You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “Ben, I don’t think it’s–”

“You’re my girl,” he cut off your protest. “And I want everyone to know it. I don’t care what he thinks or if he has another heart attack by the damn champagne tower.”

Your breath caught a little. God, this boy…

You looked at him then – the way the wind lifted his hair, the clean line of his jaw, the unshakable way he said things he meant and never walked them back.

You wanted to live in this moment forever. In this golden, impossible bubble of carnival lights and him saying things like ‘my girl.’ You wanted to give him everything.

“You ever think about how all of this will just… be gone someday?” you mused, squinting at the blurred colors of the carousel spinning under a canopy of stars. “The fair, the music, the booths. Blink and it’s history.”

Ben glanced over at you with that quiet, amused look he gave you sometimes – like he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of puzzle you were, but he wanted to spend his life trying to solve it anyway.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I’m serious,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Entropy, decay, time marching on – it’s all just a slow slide into disorder.”

“Remind me again what you studied?” he asked dryly.

You grinned and nudged him with your shoulder. “What, you don’t like a girl who can calculate the collapse of the universe?”

“I like a girl who can out-think half the men I know and still kiss me like I’m the only equation she can’t solve.”

Oh. Well, point for him.

“But seriously,” Ben continued, “you’re not hiding. I’m not letting him dictate that. I don’t want a future unless you’re in it.”

Shit.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, comforted by the steadiness of him and the creaky Ferris wheel car that somehow felt more stable than the rest of your life.

Your heart weighed heavily, but you smiled anyway. “You might regret that. I have no idea how to navigate country club hors d’oeuvres without starting a class war.”

Ben laughed. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Alright, I’ll come to the party,” you agreed and ignored your heart, which blinked like a neon warning sign between your ribs. “But only if there’s pie.”

He chuckled softly. “That can be arranged.”

“And I want to wear something entirely inappropriate.”

“Also allowed.”

You stared at him, something hot and electric blooming in your chest. You looked out over the grounds again – rows of flickering lights and laughter echoing below.

“You know, we’ve got plans, you and me,” Ben said suddenly.

“What kind of plans?” you asked, brow raised, shifting a little to look up at him.

“I said I’d figure out a way out of that hellhole for both of us. I still mean it,” Ben said, deep voice untypically hesitant like he was testing the idea out loud for the first time. “I’ve been looking at houses.”

You sat up a little, your heart pounding like a demolition hammer, throat dry. “You-, uh, you have?”

Ben nodded and smiled. “There’s one I keep going back to. Found it last week, and I don’t know… Feels right. I think you’d like it. Needs some work, though. A lot of work, actually… The porch steps need replacing, the roof’s a mess, and the windows rattle like a haunted saloon.”

“So perfect, then.”

“Perfect,” he echoed.

You were speechless. You’d never suspected he’d been dreaming behind your back. But you wanted to answer. God, you wanted to say yes and kiss him senseless and let the night carry you straight into forever. But reality tugged like a thread at the edge of your dress.

The part of you that lived in spreadsheets and time travel formulas wanted to tell him that buying a house with a girl who could theoretically be ripped out of this timeline at any moment was probably not a sound financial decision.

“It’s about an hour outside the city. Old place,” Ben continued, green eyes searching your face. “But there’s this little outbuilding on the property. Think it used to be a carriage house. Brick. Sturdy. Could be turned into a workshop.”

You swallowed, your heart thudding only louder. “A workshop?”

“I thought you might like it,” he said and gave you a cheeky smile as if he knew exactly how to make your heart soar. “Figured it be ideal for your tinkering. Your experiments. I don’t know much about the physics of whatever it is you do in George’s shed, but I figure if I can’t understand it, it’s probably important. I can picture you in there with your hair tied back, goggles on, muttering equations and setting things on fire.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, warm and stunned. “Oh, you think I’m just some mad scientist who needs a shed to explode things in, huh?”

“I mean, you did nearly set our bedsheet on fire last month,” Ben teased you. “Not in the good way…”

“That was a side effect! Totally unintentional. Science is messy,” you defended. Seriously, that only happened one time, alright?

“You’re messy.”

“True,” you admitted proudly. “But I get results.”

Ben laughed softly. “But I’m serious, alright? You light up when you talk about that stuff. That thing you built last month with the vacuum tubes and the light sensor – I don’t even know what it does, but you looked like you’d conquered the moon.”

Ugh. You wished. Fuck Buzz Aldrin.

“It was just a proximity alarm,” you replied. Honestly, you were just beating boredom by building random gadgets with whatever scraps you’d find in George’s shed. Sometimes you did miss flipping through TV channels on a lazy Saturday on a couch.

“See? You say that like it’s normal.” Ben laughed, watching your cheeks turn red under the colorful lights, but then the humor faded from his eyes as he glanced back toward the fairgrounds. “I don’t have the full money yet. The house is cheap, but it still needs a down payment. I’m working on it. But I’ll get there. I swear. I’ve got a few things saved, and I might sell the car.”

There was guilt in his tone. Shame, even. As if he had already failed you by not conjuring up the entire future out of thin air like a bunny from a top hat.

“But you love that car,” you argued softly.

Ben only gave a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “It’s just metal. This–,” he gestured between the two of you, “–this is more.”

You squeezed his hand. “You know, I never expected you to do it all alone. I know it’s weird – a woman offering to pitch in. But I don’t want you to carry everything by yourself. I want this to be ours, too. And maybe I also want the upstairs bathroom to have a really nice tub. I’ve kind of gotten spoiled over the last few months,” you quipped.

Ben looked at you like you’d just spoken in tongues, both relieved and unsure if he was even allowed to feel that way. He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling a little. “Well, I’m glad to hear you say that because I might have another idea.”

He didn’t directly say he needed your help. He never would. Because he wanted to provide. Because his father had conditioned him to think anything less was a failure. But it was there – in the hesitation, in the subtle shift of his shoulders. That need. That quiet ask.

“What were you thinking?”

“Well, uhm, I figured maybe you could invent something? Something smart, something useful. Doesn’t have to be flashy. And I could take it into the city. Sell it, or license it, or whatever people like me do. You know, I’ll take the meetings, flash a smile, wear the suit.”

You arched an eyebrow in amusement. “So you want me to be your secret genius in the basement while you take the credit?”

“Exactly. A reverse Edison, if you will,” Ben said.

You snorted a small laugh. “Oh, honey, Edison was Edison. He made a whole career out of stealing ideas from people smarter than him.”

“Perfect,” Ben replied, grinning. “We’ll just continue a proud tradition.”

Not the worst idea he’s ever had, your inner Puck sang mischievously while he already rolled around in dollar bills.

And then the bigger question hit you like a thunderbolt: Whose invention could you hijack without guilt?

You mentally opened a file folder titled Men Who Deserve to Be Robbed – and it wasn’t even a fucking short list. Hell, you’d rob Edison blind in his sleep and still feel absolutely nothing.

And sure, your abilities were like a cheat code to capitalism. You could practically feel the timeline shiver beneath your feet. Invention theft? That was a whole different ethical category than ripping off Wall Street and placing bets on sports games.

A small-ish part of you even felt bad about it – briefly.

However, you then reminded yourself of Hedy Lamarr, who helped invent frequency-hopping and got zero recognition during her lifetime because, you know, tits. Rosalind Franklin literally died while Watson and Crick strutted off with her DNA work. Mileva Marić, Einstein’s brilliant first wife, who probably had her fingerprints all over the theory of relativity, got written out of the narrative. And last but not least, there were women like Margaret Knight, who invented the machine that made paper bags and had to goddamn sue a man who tried to steal the patent.

So yes, if you “borrowed” something from a few future men, you were sure history could cope. Call it fucking karmic redistribution.

Cosmic balancing or whatever…

After all, if your plan to rewrite the future worked, Homelander would never be fucking sneezed into existence in the first place. Didn’t you deserve a little something for that favor?

Lise Meitner cracked nuclear fission and didn’t even get a Nobel!

And then, your mind was suddenly buzzing with ideas, mentally raiding the patent archives of the future like a war criminal with excellent taste.

The list in your head quickly became extensive. The transistor radio? Tempting, but messy. Velcro? Possibly too weird. Solar panels? Ambitious. But then there were penicillin production, the jet engine, the electric razor – honestly, men were begging to be fucking robbed blind.

Hell, you could patent the damn Frisbee and fund your entire life with Ben from the back end of a plastic disc.

Vive les fucking femmes!

“You’re thinking about it too hard, sweetheart,” Ben broke through your thoughts with an amused laugh. “You always get this little crease between your brows when you’re trying to out-logic yourself.”

“Do not,” you muttered.

Ben then quietly bit his lips. “Look, I know it’s not ideal – me being the front. I mean, you’re brilliant. Scarily brilliant, even. I promise this arrangement would only be temporary, you know? To get a foot in the door? But I don’t want a life where you’re stuck behind me in some shadow. I want us side by side.”

Translation: I don’t want you to become clinically depressed like my mother one day, but also, the world doesn’t take you seriously right now due to your vagina.

And God, you hated how right he was. But if you tried to walk into a patent office right now with a device from thirty years in the future, you’d probably be laughed out of the building.

“Fine,” you sighed, nodding. “You go march into meetings with investors and wow them with your penis.”

Ben snorted a chuckle, gently kissing the top of your head as if it would soothe the ache this time period caused sometimes. Luckily, it did a little.

“The brains behind this operation is still you, sweetheart,” Ben added softly and pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You buried your smile into his coat as the hush of the Ferris wheel cradled the things neither of you could promise but desperately hoped for.

Dreaming a future into existence.

The soft hum of cicadas drifted through the cracked window of the work shed as your fingers twisted a final coil of copper into place. The air smelled like old wood, smoke, and the faint tang of metal – a strangely comforting cocktail you’d come to associate with long afternoons spent here, hidden from the rest of the mansion, the party preparations, and Ben’s increasingly suffocating father.

The asshole had only been back two fucking days and was already driving everyone up the tall walls of the mansion.

As you reached for the wire cutters, the door creaked open. “I swear to God, George,” you muttered without looking up, “if that’s you looking for your soldering torch again, I’m invoking squatters’ rights.”

“Relax,” came Ben’s amused voice, warm and unmistakably close. “It’s not George.”

You glanced over your shoulder, offering a crooked smile. Ben leaned against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons undone. His hair – and Lord help you – was slightly tousled, like he’d just raked a hand through it in frustration. The late afternoon sunlight cut sharp behind him, shoulders slouched like he’d just come from a war. Which, to be fair, he kind of had.

Ben didn’t move toward you right away, only stood there for a beat, jaw tight, apple green eyes scanning your half-finished contraption like he was pretending the world outside hadn’t just tried to bury him alive again.

“Rough day?” you asked, returning to your work. “Are you here to tell me your father wants to build a runway in the backyard for Roosevelt’s plane?”

He huffed a tired laugh. “You could say that. He did mention fireworks. Big ones. The kind that might violate state law.”

You giggled softly. “Maybe I can help with that. Been exploding a lot of things in here recently.”

For a week now, you’d been trying to come up with the perfect invention for you and Ben to sell and finally get out of this place. You were heavily leaning toward polaroids or disposable cameras.

No pressure.

“What is that supposed to be?” he asked, nodding toward the mess of copper, wires, and what may or may not have once been part of George’s broken lawnmower.

You sighed dramatically. “Well, so far it’s nothing and only good at electrocuting me… and maybe creating small indoor thunderstorms.” You wiped your hands on an old rag and finally turned your full attention to him. “How’s your father? Any new pearls of wisdom?”

“Oh, he dropped a good one this morning.” Ben grinned and then proceeded to mimic his father. “He actually said, and I quote, ‘She’s a pretty little thing. A boy needs his amusements. Just don’t parade her around like a prize hog.’”

“Charming. You guys have a real Norman Rockwell family dynamic going on. Glad to know I’ve got the Brooks seal of approval as a temporary whore.” You snorted. “I hope you told him I’m very corrupting, practically feral, and can’t be trusted near high society.”

“Oh, I did.” Ben chuckled. “You should hear what else he says when he thinks I’m listening.”

You arched a brow. “Let me guess – I’m a bad influence and possibly a communist?”

Ben huffed a laugh. “Close.” He then raised a hand and ticked off fingers. “Let’s see… He said that you’re too clever for your own good, too opinionated for a wife, too mouthy for polite company. Also said you argue like a politician. Oh, and my personal favorite – ‘curves that men fight wars over.’”

Thank you?!

“He said that?” You cocked an eyebrow, fighting the repulsive shiver creeping down your spine. His father always looked at you like you were something exotic he didn’t quite approve of but wouldn’t mind sampling.

“Verbatim. Over scotch. Twice.” Ben smirked, unaware. “Said I always did like toys with bright packaging and sharp edges.”

You pursed your lips. “Wow. Flattered.”

Ben gave a tight smile. “He said you’ll chew me up and spit me out. That you’re the kind of woman a man ruins his life for, which I think was meant as an insult, but all that did was get me hard again.”

You blinked, then tilted your head, your heart stuttering a little. “Well, for the record, I don’t plan on ruining your life. But if I do, tell him I’ll make it memorable. How’s that?”

Ben laughed softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes anymore, letting out a long sigh instead. “He also said the Du Ponts are coming tomorrow. Real subtle message. Guess he’s hoping Grace shows up in a white dress and a shotgun.”

“Is the shotgun for me or for you?”

“Both of us, I’m guessin’…” He offered an apologetic wince that wasn’t nearly apologetic enough. “He still thinks that I’ll come to my senses once I’ve had my fill.”

You waited for the jealousy to rear up, but it didn’t. You weren’t worried about her. You were worried about him.

“And have you?”

Ben’s eyes locked with yours, sending you his signature lazy, mischievous smile. “Not even close, sweetheart.”

“I don’t suppose we could stay in here until next week, huh?” you mused jokingly.

“Tempting. But then my father would assume you murdered me in cold blood.”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t be the worst headline I’ve had.”

“Apparently her folks are very keen on picking things back up. She’s not married yet. He made that real clear,” Ben huffed, rolling his eyes back. “I told him I’d rather take a vow of celibacy and become a monk.”

“Really? You?” you teased.

Ben laughed, tilting his head back. "Well, I was hoping you'd sneak into the monastery by night."

You looked at him – at this beautiful, exasperating, filthy-mouthed dreamer who somehow had crawled into your ribs and never left — and it hit you again, deep in your chest.

“What if he’s right, though?” you asked before you could stop yourself. “What if you wake up one day and realize you are like him?”

Ben’s eyes snapped to you, all trace of teasing gone. “Don’t say that.”

You held up your palms in defense. “I’m not trying to pick a fight.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But it’s not gonna happen.”

You swallowed hard, turning back to your tinkering on the bench to occupy both your hands and mind with something else. “Just feels like we’re running toward something, and I don’t know if it’s our future or a brick wall.”

He blew out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair. “You know what your problem is? You’ve got this whole wild, brilliant mind, and somehow it still makes room for the worst-case scenario.”

You sighed a little, even though your whole body wanted to scream the truth. “It’s just... I’ve seen it happen. People chasing comfort until they don’t recognize themselves anymore.”

Ben frowned. “You think I don’t ask myself that? That I don’t lie awake some nights wondering if it’s all carved in stone? That no matter how much I fight it, I’m gonna end up like him?”

You swallowed thickly, heart heavy in your chest.

“You really think I’m that close to being him?” he asked then, voice rough around the edges, and you knew all he wanted to hear was that you believed in him – that you knew he was good and would never, ever walk down that path of darkness.

But how could you with everything you knew?

You glimpsed at your chalkboard – at the unfinished and unsolvable equations, which were supposed to tell that you were on the right track. That this was the way to fight goddamn fate.

But there was no comfort written chalk.

“I don’t want to think that,” you said carefully, eyes focused on the copper wire in your hands. “But you grew up in his world. You know how to fake it. You’re good at it. And sometimes… I don’t know. What if one day it’s easier to go back to that than keep fighting it?”

Especially if I’m gone and can’t be the angel on your shoulder, your mind added in silence.

Because you knew the future. You knew what happened when he did go back, when the fight drained out of him, when he let the numbness win. You’d seen what he’d become. You’d stood in the ruins of it once.

Ben was quiet for a long time.

“Look, if I ever did go back to that life, the only way I could survive it is if I drowned myself in it. Booze, whores, money, noise. Numb myself enough to forget what I gave up. To forget you,” he said, a bitter, broken smile crossing his lips. “And even then, I’d still hate every minute of it because you’re not there.”

You tried to be brave. You really did. But some dark little knot still twisted behind your ribs.

Outside, thunder rolled across the hills, guttural and ominous. The wind picked up, rattling the door of the shed as the sky began to dim, announcing a summer storm. It felt like the entire universe was angry with you for meddling with its plans as well.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Ben’s hands were suddenly at your waist, slow and deliberate as he stepped up flush behind you. You froze for a second before he leaned in, breath warm against your ear.

“Stop worrying so much, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dropping to a low, seductive tone, all grit and gravel. “I told you. I’m not leaving you. And I’d burn the whole goddamn world down before I let anyone take you from me.”

Well, considering the circumstances, that vow was less romantic than he probably thought it’d be.

“Don’t seduce me in the middle of an electrocution hazard.” You gave him a look but were barely able to hide the smile.

He only ever came to visit you in the shed for two reasons: either venting about his father or missing you. Today seemed to be both.

Ben shrugged innocently behind you and picked up a spool of copper wire and toyed with it, rolling it between his fingers like he was picturing using it on you. All the while, his wolfish green eyes kept dipping to the hem of your dress.

“Just thinkin’... Might be our last moment of peace before the circus hits tomorrow.”

“Smooth.” You grinned teasingly, but the flicker in your stomach betrayed how quickly the heat spread. “This is a workshop. A sacred place for science. No seduction allowed.”

His hands put their attention back to your waist, gliding slow and warm around your hips. “Come on. Even Einstein went for a roll in the hay. Probably.”

You snorted. “You’re a menace.”

“And you love it.” He kissed just behind your ear, sending sparks all the way down your spine. “Love when I take what’s mine.”

His hands roamed your body, slow and deliberate, fingertips grazing over the fabric of your dress. You could already feel how hard he was, pressing into you, lazy and thick.

You leaned back into him instinctively. “Ben, George could walk in any second–”

“Then I better be quick.” He smirked against your skin, one hand sliding down your side, fingers playing with the skirt of your dress, bold and purposeful. “Besides, I like when you worry. Makes you clamp around me like you’re trying to keep me inside.”

“Benjamin!”

He chuckled, deep and warm like bourbon and sin. “C’mon, baby, been thinking about you all damn day,” he muttered into your neck. “While my father lectured me on mergers and legacy and how I’ve ‘wasted enough time on distractions’ – he meant you, by the way.”

“Sure.” You huffed a laugh that died in your throat when his palms skimmed your stomach, hot and broad.

“And I just kept thinking about you in here, grease and chalk on your cheeks, dress wrinkled, legs bare, tinkering with all your little mad scientist toys. And all I wanted was to–,” he kissed the spot just behind your jaw, where your pulse spiked, “–come bend you over this bench and ruin you where you make magic outta junk.”

You felt his belt unbuckle behind you – quick and practiced. Clink.

Ben’s hand slipped lower, and you gasped as his thick, long fingers found the slick heat between your thighs.

“Christ, honey… No panties?” His voice was ragged, laced with a reverence that made your cheeks burn.

“It’s too hot for cotton, okay?” You giggled weakly, your breath catching several times in the middle of it as his fingers kept exploring.

“Already so wet for me, huh, little genius?” he rasped between littering kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“Yeah, well, congrats. I’ve got a Pavlovian response to belt buckles now,” you quipped breathlessly.

“You know,” he murmured, pointer finger sliding between your folds before he faintly pressed against your clit, “you’re real dangerous when you say all those fancy words I don’t understand. Gets me all hot under the collar.”

“Everything gets you hot.”

“Damn right.” He smirked, teeth nibbling on your shoulder. “Can’t help it. I’m fucking obsessed with you, sweetheart. My little physicist. My brilliant, stubborn, filthy-minded girl who makes sparks fly – literally – and has no idea how sexy she is when she’s mouthing off with pliers in her hand.”

Your brain short-circuited when he then pressed closer, grinding against the curve of your ass, thick, heavy, and leaking. Middle finger joined the lonely one, rubbing soft circles over your bundle of nerves that made you squirm in his hold.

“Ben–”

“Shh,” he hushed, the smugness undeniable in bis voice, “Just let me take care of you, baby. ‘M managing your stress levels like the good, attentive boyfriend I am.”

You snorted half a whimper, involuntarily clenching around the emptiness in your cunt. And Ben noticed, grinned wider.

But that was what always wrecked you the most. The soft edge under the filth, the reverence in his voice even as he played you like a sinful little instrument, the way he touched you like you were both holy and his to ruin. It was as addictive as any vice in this world.

One drag of a cigarette and now you were doing heroin.

Your brain, traitorous and unhelpful, already began calculating angles of entry, force of friction, and how quickly you could achieve orgasm before George walked in looking for his wrench set again.

Ben gathered the fabric of your skirt, fingers raking it slowly up your thigh, bunching it at your waist. His other hand pressed to the small of your back, guiding you to lean slightly over the workbench like you were his own personal offering.

His lips trailed down your spine, lazy, messy, and sinful as always. You braced your palms on the bench, white-knuckling around the edge.

His knee nudged your legs farther apart, grip firm and tight around your waist. He stroked himself behind you, your ears picking up the slick drag of skin over velvet hardness.

Your thighs trembled shamelessly, and then – he pressed the thick, perfect head of his cock between your legs.

And just… stayed there. Teasing. Lingering. Rubbing.

He didn’t move. Just rocked, slow and torturous, coating himself in your arousal without giving you what you needed most.

Mother of Einstein, have mercy.

Ben grinned against your neck when a little whine escaped you. “That’s it, baby. Let me feel how much you need it. Say you missed me.”

“I saw you four hours ago.” You made a noise that was half a snort and half a gasp. “And you already defiled me twice this morning.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I’m gonna strangle you with your own belt if you keep doing this,” you threatened playfully, panting.

“Promise?” Ben’s grin was downright wolfish.

You smiled, amused. “I missed you.”

“Good girl.”

And then he pushed in with one rough, filthy thrust that knocked the air out of your lungs.

You cried out at the sharp snap of his hips as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching you open inch by burning inch. His grip on you was iron-tight, holding you in place like he never wanted you to get away.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled. “Still so wet. Still so goddamn tight, even after everything I’ve done to you.”

His hips started moving, deep and steady, claiming you over the workbench with every thrust. Rough, demanding, possessive.

“Ben–... fuck,” you moaned, helpless under the weight of him, under the fire igniting low in your belly.

Your body arched into his rhythm, every drag of his cock through your walls hitting deep, just right to make you delirious. The bench creaked beneath you, tools rattling with each movement, but you didn’t care. Maybe the only consistent variable in your life now was Ben – his hands, his heat, his cock filling you so perfectly it felt like your soul rebooted.

If George walked in, you’d probably just wave and tell him to knock next time – and maybe explain the wiring diagram mid-orgasm.

Hell, let the blue-blooded ghosts of Ben’s ancestors hear your strangled moans and spin in their fucking graves.

One of his hands then slipped to the front, rubbing tight, merciless circles over your clit again with ruthless fingers. The other one stayed flat against your lower back, pinning you in place while he took you – every stroke thick and relentless, your body jolting forward with every pound.

The brutal snap of his hips turned feral. Harder. Faster. Rougher. Sharp teeth grazed your shoulder, his hand squeezing your hip tight enough for a bruise to stay – at least for a little while.

Somewhere in the haze of sweat and slick skin and unspeakably sinful noises, you wondered if this was the real reason women didn’t get credit for their work – because the moment they tried to make history, some man came along and railed it out of them.

And now you were getting bent over a workbench with a genius brain and absolutely no coherent thought left.

The rush hit like a wave crashing over rocks – hot and shattering and all-consuming. You bucked back into him, crying out his name with a broken moan, barely muffled by your arm. Your body clenched and spasmed hard around him, knees buckling as he fucked you through it.

“Jesus, that’s it, baby. You takin’ it like a goddamn dream,” he growled low in your ear, losing control as your walls fluttered around him.

He punishingly drove in deep once, twice more for good measure, spilling inside you in hot pulses and with a groan that sounded like it had been clawing its way out of his throat since sunrise.

Thank fucking God for your IUD. In close to five months, he’d never asked once about protection. You honestly didn’t know what was going on in that head of his sometimes.

The shudder of his hips then rocked both of you against the table. The room stilled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex and sawdust. Ben slumped forward, pressing his face into the back of your shoulder, breathing heavy.

“Next time, warn me before you whip your belt off like a gunslinger,” you panted with a cheeky smile.

“Next time,” Ben rasped, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll tie your wrists with it.”

You wheezed, shaking your head, still breathless. “Why are you like this?”

Ben pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, then the back of your neck, smug grin underneath, still twitching inside you.

He pulled out of you slowly, carefully smoothing your wrinkled skirt down before tucking himself in. Then he spun you to face him, holding your wobbly frame.

“All you, honey,” he replied, smirk smug and wide and lazy. He pecked your lips. “I’m gonna marry the hell out of you one day.”

Your heart almost jumped out of your ribcage. Was he serious? Was he thinking about that? You hadn’t even thought about that.

Ben then pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and stuck one between his lips.

You arched an eyebrow. “You better not think about lighting that in here.”

He snorted, square still stuck between his teeth, matchstick in hand. “You plan on filing a complaint with the shed manager?”

“No, you idiot, but you light that in here, we’re both going up like a firecracker before the party tomorrow,” you sassed. You were not about to go up in flames in a toxic sex crypt.

Ben laughed, tucking the nail behind his ear instead.

“You’re lucky I still let you in here. Truly, you’re the worst kind of distraction,” you quipped.

Ben had the audacity to look proud of himself. “You practically begged me to stay.”

“Oh, please, I only tolerate your presence because you’re decent in bed and occasionally bring snacks,” you teased him further.

“Decent?” he repeated, turning toward you with a wounded look in jest. “Decent? Woman, you were seeing stars five minutes ago.”

“You’re confusing an orgasm with a head rush from the lack of ventilation in here.” You grinned, then fully giggled when he barked a laugh and grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You let yourself be folded into him, the warmth of his body anchoring you like it always did. The wind was whistling outside, the light that filtered into the shed through the cracks darkening. You could smell the rain in the air now – wet soil and electricity – before thunder roared once more across the garden like cannon fire.

Ben then took your hand, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s get inside before the storm hits.”

You nodded, but your eyes drifted back to the chalkboard full of half-erased symbols, smudged like the memories of him you couldn’t clean off, as if meaning might surface if you stared hard enough. A futile map for a journey you were already too lost to finish.

But you squeezed his hand and followed him into the dark anyway, hoping you could outrun the storm a little longer.

▶️ Chapter 10: Here's Looking at You, Kid

I'm fully aware you guys have a love-hate relationship with this chapter. Ben dreaming, reader worrying, and a Fourth of July party next week?! Well, let's light 'em up! 🎆🧨👀

Coming Up:

On your way back to the garden, the empty mansion echoed faintly with distant music and laughter from outside. And then there he was:

Richard Brooks was already waiting, posted by the doorway to his study like a vulture smelling fresh meat.

“Miss,” he said, not even bothering to finish your name. “Inside. Now.”

“I was just heading back to the party,” you said, forcing a polite smile.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said and opened the door with one hand and stepped back, waiting like a man who never heard the word no.

You walked past him, breath shallow, pulse fluttering like a caged bird. And then it was just you, Richard Brooks, and the scent of whiskey and old power clinging to the room like rot.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, absentmindedly pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “Making friends. Charming donors. Wiggling your way in like a parasite.”

Your fingers curled slightly at your sides. Careful. Controlled. “What exactly is it you want from me, Mr. Brooks?”

“I want to make this very simple,” he said, stepping closer with the slow gravity of a man used to the world bowing to him. “You want money? I’ll give you money. You walk away from my son. Tonight. I don’t care where you go, but you disappear. And in return, I’ll write you a check large enough to make sure you never have to get your hands dirty again.”

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