#it was all there since the very beginning

[headspace-hotel]

The idea of Pleistocene rewilding, even though it annoys the hell out of me, is so interesting in what it implies about ecosystems.

If we accept that North America's ecosystems are "incomplete" or "impoverished" because of the extinction of Pleistocene megafauna, that implies there is a "complete" state of ecosystems. In the absolute sense, of course ecosystems don't ever have a "complete" state, but is it possible for an ecosystem to be relatively incomplete? What does that even mean?

Could an "incomplete" state of an ecosystem be recognizable without knowing what used to exist in that ecosystem, for comparison? Could a researcher tell that they were in an environment where an animal had gone extinct, without any direct evidence of that animal or knowledge of what it was? Who is to say how many taxa of a kind of creatures "should" be in the ecosystem?

Say we accept, then, that North America's ecosystems after the Pleistocene (but before European colonization, which involved intentional destruction) were "complete," in the sense that researchers couldn't detect any obvious "dysfunction," whatever that means.

But 10,000 years, compared with life's history on the earth, are nothing--- the blink of an eye. There hasn't been very much time for entirely new types of animals to evolve.

So it would imply that ecosystems have a LOT of plasticity and ability to re-arrange to absorb shock, and that animals can quickly expand their ranges and change their niches to adapt to the new state of existence.

...this, in turn, implies something strange about the introduction of new animal species to a continental mainland: that "native" and "non-native" animal species probably won't be distinguishably different in their impacts in the long term, because the ecosystem is chaotic and constantly changing to begin with.

Introducing new animals to islands is a disaster, because it's introducing an animal with a niche that didn't exist before at all, such as terrestrial predators or large herbivores. Introducing plants is a disaster in a small and unpredictable sample of cases.

But in the example of horses in North America, the impact could range from positive (horses used to be here, and their extinction "damaged the ecosystem," therefore horses being introduced "fixes" that damage) to neutral (the ecosystem adapted to not having horses very fast, therefore the ecosystem can likely adapt to having horses again very fast). Saying that horses are invasive seems to require us to believe contradictory things: that the ecosystem has changed so much since the Pleistocene that horses no longer belong, and that ecosystems can't adjust to change quickly.

Then, why indeed should we not introduce camels, or cheetahs, or lions?

Well, this is where "Pleistocene rewilding" gets on my nerves: it sees North America as fundamentally impoverished of animals, and at the same time, somehow treats different species of animal as weirdly interchangeable. We don't know if the American lion was closer to a lion or a tiger, and we don't know some important things like its hunting behavior. The "American cheetah" was not any more closely related to the African cheetah than to the cougar, and might not have been a specialized fast runner like the cheetah.

So this might apply to the horse just as well: the species of horse in Pleistocene times might have been so different from today's horse that they don't have the same role in the ecosystem. Well, is it better to be horseless or horsed?

I don't think that introduced species are inherently bad. This isn't a extreme position. Among plants, very few introduced species actually become invasive, and even some of those considered "invasive" are not actually harming the ecosystem in a way that can be demonstrated. I don't think I would recommend the introduction of a plant purposefully, though...or would I? With climate change occurring rapidly, I am in favor of moving species to areas where they can survive.

One philosophy of biodiversity is that the more biodiverse the ecosystem, the more ability the ecosystem has to absorb shock and adapt to change. Introduced species could have a range of potential to adapt different from native species, and could raise the shock absorption potential of an ecosystem. But they would also disrupt existing relationships and cause a shock to the native species that already exist.

Range expansions are an alternative to extinction for some species. We will probably HAVE to consider introducing species to new areas in the future. Well, imagine in the future we put Zebras in Arkansas, and the Zebras outcompeted the white-tailed deer in that area. Is that good or bad? Both species get to keep existing, but the deer's range is a bit smaller. Is the measure of biodiversity more important in a local area or in the world?

Makes my head hurt...

[ma7moudgaza2]

Why is the world taking an idea Gaza is currently doing well and people are living normally!

Gaza is stricken Trump and the occupation prevent the entry of all means of relief Gaza people try with their fingernails

The disaster is big so far

If you are against the displacement of Gazans, empower their capabilities.

Since yesterday, the news was very bad, statements by officials who control our lands as if they were their legitimate legacy. No one can stop them, as if we were in a time of lamentation.

But what do we do now? We are weak... But we didn't give up.

From your place, you can make a difference: Support the capabilities of the people of Gaza. Support the construction. Support talent. Make Gaza a place to live. Support infrastructure. Don't be part of our displacement. Make life here easier, so no one is forced to leave.

From the beginning, we knew that post-war would be harsher than war itself. We saw the future before it came, and we were preparing for it.

No infrastructure. Nothing keeps people here. No nothing.

One $10 canal guarantees a person in Gaza a seat in a well-equipped scientific space.

Gaza is not for sale. Gaza will not be defeated. Gaza will remain.

@timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @sawasawako @appsa

@strangeauthor @gabajoofs @irhabiya @wellwaterhysteria @tamamita

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim @neechees

@schoolhater @tiredguyswag @appsa @gothhabiba @g0at0ad

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid @evillesbianvillain

@amygdalae @ankle-beez @lonniemachin @dykesbat @charlott2n

@watermotif @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz @vakarians-babe

[leighsartworks216]

His Beautiful Nose

Sylus x gn!Reader

This is all I think about when I see him sometimes, genuinely. I just see his nose and I go a little insane

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, kissing, biting, teasing, silly

Word Count: 1,001 (all my fics lately have had such satisfying word counts ough so good)

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

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"Sweetie, what are you doing?"

You shush him, focused on whatever the hell you were up to right now. Sylus quirks a brow at you.

"I think I have a right to know, since you're holding my face hostage," he teases, speaking in a languid murmur, raspy.

You'd found him asleep in one of his many lounge chairs; legs out, arms crossed, head back. It was impossible to ignore the desire to sneak around behind the chair and hold his face. Of course, doing so woke him up, which led you here.

"I'm just appreciating how pretty you are," you tell him. And it's not technically a lie. You are appreciating his beauty. Just, a specific part of his beauty.

"And you can't sit in my lap and do that?" He reaches back behind the chair. His large hand finds your back easily and begins tracing light shapes into your sides, your spine - wherever he could reach.

You giggle and squirm away from his ticklish touch. "No, now stay still and hush."

He huffs with exasperation, but he does as you ask. His hand settles on your lower back, loosely holding you close. He appreciates you in turn with his crimson eyes, half-lidded with sleep.

You run your thumbs along his cheeks. His skin is smooth, pliant beneath your fingers. He seems so untouchable - and he is. To everyone that isn't you. The fact you're this close means more than you'll ever be able to fully grasp.

You lean down and press a delicate kiss between his eyebrows. His fingers twitch against your back. You trace under his eyes, coaxing him into closing them and putting his full trust in your hands. You kiss the spot again.

The next spot your lips find is perhaps half an inch down, at the point where his nose begins protruding from his face. It's an odd place for a kiss, he thinks. You must be up to something, yet he allows it anyway.

Kisses are slowly peppered down his nose. Each one takes its time, each following the strong line of his nose, over the bump and the wide bridge, down to the tip. Each one pours into the lazy smile tugging at his lips. You really woke him up just to "appreciate" his nose?

The kisses retreat towards his brow, but never reach it. One kiss, then two placed at the most prominent part of his nose's definition, and then-

He cracks an eye open. "Did you just bite my nose?"

You hum with a slight nod, kissing over the spot again. "I've been wanting to bite it for weeks now. This seemed like the perfect opportunity." Despite the nonchalant way you say it, he can practically feel the heat radiating off your face and onto his.

He chuckles softly and draws you closer by your back. "Do it again."

Truly, you didn't expect for that to be his response. You anticipated this being the one and only time you'd ever be allowed to do this. But he's encouraging it, with clear amusement.

Your teeth settle on either side of the bridge of his nose and not very far down, not even as far back as your canines, and gently bite down. It's not a lot of pressure, either. Realistically, it's more of a light nip, but he hums his approval. When you pull away, your lips catch on his skin, just as his do when he bites your hand. It's perfect.

His eyes watch now with unreserved affection. His hand trails up your back, reaches to cradle the back of your neck and the base of your skull. "Come here," he murmurs lowly. You're guided forward, drawn down as he tilts his head further back to meet his lips.

Your mouths move together in languid, drowsy kisses. The faint wet sound of your lips parting and shared, soft breaths fill the room. His nose presses against your chin, and yours in his, but neither of you move from the awkward angle except to deepen the kiss.

You feel the smirk on his lips before you see it. He pulls away and your body is suddenly weightless, floating through the air, carried by playful tendrils of energy.

"Sylus! What're you doing?!" You're flipped over him, slow enough you don't get lightheaded, to the front of the chair and directly into his lap. His arms wrap powerfully around your waist to draw you against his chest. Light kisses trail along your neck.

"You woke me from my nap. It only seems fair to keep you here," he says against your skin.

There's no point trying to push his arms away or wriggling free. He's much too strong for that. So, you give in. You sigh with a playful roll of your eyes and lean back into him, trying to find some comfortable position. Once you're settled, one of his arms slips from around you, and gently fingers turn you by your chin to face him.

"I also need to return the favor, don't I?"

He takes his sweet time doing so. A trail of kisses, all light pecks, winds from your jaw to your chin to your cheek. They finally come to your forehead, where he places one between your brows. Down to where your nose begins. Down over the bridge, to the tip, and back up.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tilts his head and carefully lines his teeth up in just the same way you did. He bites down, gentle in a way that seems unfathomable to anyone else who knew him. After a second, he pulls away, lips catching on your skin.

He leans back into the chair and guides your head to his shoulder before wrapping his arm around you once more. He sighs, long and low, with content. "Wake me up in four hours," he murmurs.

"And what am I supposed to do until then?"

"You should have thought about that before you snuck in, sweetie."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch7. if u wanna get groceries

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 7/x

ᰔ words. 10.3k

a/n. hiii my ihm darlings!! i don't have much to say in this beginning author's note haha but i have some author's notes at the end if you want to read them. but anywho hope you enjoy this chapterrr :)

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Ovulation is a very scary thing.

You can imagine many great women have had their lives greatly affected by this phenomenon. 

This biological release of an egg into the fallopian tubes, simply desiring to be fertilized.

Women who have had their hearts set on their dreams, aspirations, full speed ahead towards the finish line on the other end,

Only to be dragged back by–

You shudder to even mention.

Attraction to a man. 

So horrible.

So insane.

So humiliating.

And yet so–...

So natural.

Unfortunately.

You’re pretty sure Sabrina Carpenter has a song about it.

This is what you think of as you lean over the kitchen island, perched up on your elbows as you eat a peach, staring straight ahead at a certain fake husband who is seated on the couch. 

He’s looking at the TV, watching some SNL skit he didn’t get to finish last weekend, tilting his head side to side with his grey sweatpant clad legs stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He’s got a can of Celsius he’s swirling around with a loose grip, his elbow up on the cushion for a more lax resting state (which unfortunately also flexes his bicep very sexily from the positioning), and he doesn’t really seem particularly amused by what he was watching. And for some reason, it was hot.

You tilt your head to the right, watching him like a predator from across the hall, chewing down on a particularly juicy piece of peach that bursts its juice in your mouth, and you curse the fact that all you can think about right now is sex.

Sex.

When was the last time you had sex?

You postulated a little over a month ago when you and Choso were still together.

Granted, you’ve been too busy and overwhelmed and overstimulated with all the recent happenings of late to provide your own self with any sort of relief.

And God, it was showing.

Showing in the way that, no matter what, you can’t seem to shake the idea of wanting to sit in Gojo’s lap and be the second reason he never gets to finish watching that SNL skit. 

Maybe it will help.

Maybe sitting in a man’s lap right now would heal you.

You set the now naked seed of peach down on the counter before straightening yourself up and walking around the kitchen island towards the living room. Gojo’s eyes don’t flicker to you until you’re well in his periphery, and when he looks up at you, he straightens himself up on the couch with curious wide eyes and drags his feet off the coffee table to plant his feet on the rug.

You pull your grandma nightgown up to your knees so that you can sit in his lap, surprise evident on his face as he watches your every movement before you’re comfortably seated on him with your hands on his shoulders.

“Fuck me,” you tell him.

“Wh–” he stutters, “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you just told me to fuck you.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” The heels of your hands press into his chest further to the point where it has to hurt. 

“Is this a prank,” he asks as his hands fall to hold your hips on reflex.

You sigh, shifting around on his thighs. “Can you just do it already before I change my mind?”

“Wow. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind.”

You push off of his shoulders and stand up on one leg, ready to get up and away from him to find some other way to satisfy your desperate desire for a penis, but he reaches out to grab your wrist.

“Heyyy wait wait wait,” he says, pulling you back into a seat on his lap. “Why do you want to have sex all of a sudden?”

You exhale slowly, twiddling with your thumbs as you look at him. “You said it yourself the other day,” you say, “good way to relieve stress.”

���And you’re not gonna kill me afterwards?”

“Umm no promises?”

“Look, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, a part of me thinks you’re making a…rash decision here.”

“Oh my fucking god who cares if I am?? Maybe I just wanna fuck for the sake of fucking?? What’s the big fucking deal??”

“The big deal is that, knowing you, you’re not going to speak to me or look me in the eye for three weeks if I let you go through with something you’re not a hundred percent on.”

Your shoulders sulk a little. You thought this would be an easy yes, where he tears your nightgown off and then ravishes you whole on this couch with every primal caveman instinct that’s encoded in his XY chromosome DNA. This was supposed to be spontaneous and sexy…not a candid conversation.

The thought flashes through your head that maybe he thinks that you’re just trying to use him.

“I want to have sex with you,” you clarify. And then a pause. “I think.” You pause for a moment again. “I’m, like, pretty sure.”

He slides you back to where you’re sitting closer to his knees than to his groin, and then fully leans back onto the couch before tucking his hands behind his head like he was physically putting himself in cuffs to prevent himself from touching you any further. “Tell you what. Let’s circle back in an hour, and if you still want to, then sure.”

“I cannot believe how diplomatic you’re being about this.”

“Well isn’t this whole thing between us a diplomatic agreement? That’s what you said to me when we got fake engaged.”

“That–” you blink at him, not expecting those words to eventually be used against you, “...whatever.”

“Also, what happened to the no sex rule?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins and leans forward, both of his elbows settling onto the top of the cushion behind him, and you’re proud of yourself for only staring at his biceps for 0.000034 seconds before meeting his line of sight again. 

“Are those rules just suggestions?” he asks with a stupidly teasing look on his face. 

You purse your lips together, skin feeling warm suddenly as you try to push him away by a palm to his sternum. But then you realized something. A fundamental rule of biology. The woman never chases. 

You smile at him, cheeky in a deceptive way that’s meant to scare him, and it does seem to alarm him when you push him back onto the couch rather forcefully. His hands fall to hold your hips again as he looks at you with round eyes, and you scoot forward on his lap, to where you’re almost sitting right above his groin. 

“Hey–” he says, like a warning. 

Like some awful romantic comedy, you’re drawing the tip of your nail down the front of his chest seductively, leaning forward so he catches the faint scent of the perfume you spritzed onto your skin in the morning, and you can tell it’s working from the way he tips his chin up in interest. You innocently “shift” in his lap to get comfortable, and see his throat bob when he swallows hard from the feeling. The finger that’s been running down the soft linen of his shirt trails up until it runs through the hair at the back of his neck, and he’s pulling you closer to him now by a rough grip on your hips. His breathing picks up, eyes somehow wild yet calm as he looks at you with a set jaw, and you try your best to maintain a sultry expression as you tilt your head down at him while strongly fisting at the longer strands of his hair that fall short at the nape of his neck. He shifts underneath you, sinking further into the couch, his breathing fast enough to where you can see the rise and fall of his chest, his gaze finally dropping to your lips as he parts his own, and he briefly runs his tongue over his bottom lip before–

Before the doorbell rings. 

You both blink at each other.

You don’t even realize how close you two were to making out until you realize you can’t even see the tip of his nose anymore. 

“My, uh,” he starts, voice sounding gruff so he has to clear his throat, “my wood just came.”

“Y–” you glance down at his lap, “your wood just what?!”

He leans away from you, sinking his back into the cushion and pointing over his shoulder with a thumb towards the door. “The cedar planks I ordered to finish my woodworking project. Pretty sure they just got dropped off.”

You blink at him, releasing the grip you still had on the hair at the back of his head, your arms moving to weakly rest on his shoulders instead. “Oh.”

“I’ve gotta go sign the delivery.

“Okay.”

“Sometime today, preferably.”

“Alright.”

“Can…can I head to the door? Is that allowed?”

“...I suppose.”

His fingers that were still resting under your butt in a strong grip push up gently on the flesh to prod you off of him, and you (reluctantly) swing your legs off of his lap then slump down onto the couch indignantly beside him, twiddling with your thumbs as you watch him get up off the cushions with a small grunt from the push of his palms on his knees. And then he heads to the door.

Continuing to assess your cuticles with the tuck of your chin towards your collarbone, you hear Gojo talk to whoever was at the door. Another masculine voice. Sounds younger, probably younger than you. Delivery boy. Gojo makes easy conversation with him, some buddy-buddy diction that’s entirely lost on you, and you hear the other man laugh. And the fact that you feel equally as possessed to want to fuck the delivery man makes you realize you need to put yourself in a cage the next time you feel like this.

You hear the door close along with the metallic click of the lock, and you peak your head up over the top of the couch to look at Gojo, who is leaning a giant cardboard box that looks really heavy against the wall. He then exhales, dusting his hands off and he’s stretching his neck from side to side again.

He glances over his shoulder to find you still looking at him.

“You woodwork?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Is that the noisy thing you do at six in the morning while I’m trying to sleep after a night shift?!?!”

“It’s not that noisy,” he says, leaning back onto the wall and crossing his arms. Then he grins. “Want to see what I’m working on?”

“No.”

“Oh come on.” He jerks his head towards the kitchen leading out to the screen door of the backyard. And then he’s shuffling his feet off into that direction. “Humor me for once.”

You slide off the couch onto the floor, grumbling something to yourself before you stand up onto your feet and shuffle your feet across the hardwood floor to follow him, the hem of your nightgown sliding across the surface.

Gojo pulls the screen door back and you step out into the pleasant afternoon. It’s sunny, with crisp air that settles on your senses, the casted shadows of clouds that slowly pass over the grass reminding you of your childhood, or perhaps of simpler times.

You step into the flip flops you see near the shoe mat, and they are nearly twice the size of your feet. Gojo opts for the dustier pair located behind the grill and then he walks across the grass of his backyard towards the shed tucked away near the side of the house. You’ve always been able to briefly see this shed from one of the windows in your house, but you could never see what went on inside. 

He unclasps the metal lock on the wooden door of the shed and pulls it open with a creak. You peer inside, the smell of wood shavings and some other rather comforting chemicals hitting you almost instantly. You also sneeze. And then sneeze again.

“Bless you,” he says, and when you glance at him, he’s smiling at you before he takes a step inside. You cross your arms and rub your elbows, feeling feeble in your ditsy nightgown as you step into a space that looks far too industrial for you. 

“See?” Gojo says once you’re fully inside the shed with him, drawing your gaze from the dusty ceilings towards the covered structure in the center of the workspace. He pulls the blue tarp back, revealing something square-looking. “It’s a coffee table.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you tilt your head to assess it. “Oh. It’s–...it’s actually quite nice.”

“Yeah.” He knocks on the surface with his knuckles. “It’s pretty sturdy. I’ve been looking to replace what I’ve got in the house for a while now. And–” he straightens himself up again, pushing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That wood I just got delivered is black walnut. Stunning stuff. I’m going to use it to finish the corners and the cabinets.”

“Ahhh,” you say, expressing interest. I mean, you were intrigued by his many strange hobbies. How can you explain this…you suppose after many years of working, sleeping, eating, and taking care of your mom, it's somewhat pleasantly disorienting to find yourself in the middle of a normal person’s life. Someone who has time to woodwork in his free time. Endearing. It was kind of endearing. 

“I’ve gotta flip it over though,” he says with a sigh, “I fucked up and forgot to build the base first.”

You lean back on one of the cabinets behind you that was level with your hip, and you watch Gojo for a moment as he bends down to assess all angles of the table before he grips the underside of it with his hands, the strength of his grip evident in the strain of the veins running up his arms and disappearing into the short sleeve cotton of his shirt. 

But he glances up at you before moving it. “Can you stand over there?”

“Huh?” You blink at him.

“Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize you were standing in quite literally the exact zone of potential danger. You make a mental note to work on your survival instincts. 

You lean off of the cabinet and step off to the side. 

You watch as he begins to lift up on the table, his biceps flexing with the movement, oh and that grunt that leaves his lips once he’s got it at the angle he wants hits you somewhere you wish it didn’t. The sight of him leaning over, letting out a slow exhale as he slowly sets the table down on its side over the cushioning mat had you in a trance. 

Once he’s satisfied with wherever it’s at, he steps away from it and dusts his hands off. “Alright.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Got an hour to work on this.”

You nod at him.

He glances over at you. 

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

“Did–...did you wanna watch?”

“Nope,” you say, shuffling your slippers to the other side of the door. Because you fear that catching the sight of him all sweaty and disheveled from woodworking would get you into serious trouble today. At least you know when to call it quits.

In the hour that Gojo spends doing god knows what sort of manly sorcery in that shed, you get dressed into something that wasn’t a cozy nightgown much to your dismay, and head over to your house next door. You figure you could use this time to clean up the place a little so that you can take pictures for the house on Zillow. 

When you step inside the house, the nauseating smell of medication hits you. It’s a smell that you can only know if you’ve lived with it for years. Something artificial, something that smells–...well, sick. It’s a scent you associate with sickness. It hits you randomly sometimes with the patients that you treat at the hospital. Patients that smell just like your mom does. Something akin to a pill closet. You’ve always cursed the human tendency to assort semantics to certain senses, because then it only takes away all the healing you thought you had gotten through.

You walk down the hall towards your mother’s bedroom. You figured you’d start here first, since it would be the most difficult to clean for you. Her bed is set up neatly, exactly as you left it before she left for hospice three weeks ago. 

Her well-worn rocking chair sits near the window with the old knit blanket she made over twenty years ago draped over it. It faces the window instead of the inside of the house, which was a habit she always had throughout her life. Maybe as an art teacher, she always felt that whatever was outside was more intriguing than within. 

You run a hand by the sturdy wooden dresser covered in dust and scattered medications, along with all of your mother’s draped headscarves. She liked to change them every day, the pattern of each of them aggressively absurd and somewhat hypnotizing, but it fits for her age–that sort of clothing. Your mother used to have beautiful hair. It was something all her friends had always been jealous of. She made the decision to shave it all off rather than watch as it slowly detangled from her hair from chemo, and she claims to have stashed it away somewhere, but you know that she likely donated it instead.

When you make it to her desk, you see paint splattered over it with a rusted easel holding up a blank canvas. But there were swipes of paint across the palette, as though she were trying to find the perfect blend of colors, but failed before she could put brush to canvas. Beside her little art setup, you see a little sticky note with scribblings on it.

Morning tea

Medications- Gabapentin 600 300

Today is Thursday. Oct 16th

800 432 5555 call Dr Johnson 

Turn off the stove

At the very bottom:

- daughter. Nurse. She loves you

You suck a deep breath in, releasing it slowly.

This was an impossible task.

To stuff all of this away into boxes. 

All of this life.

You slowly peel the sticky note off the desk, folding it neatly before placing it into your pocket. Then you start with the canvas, the easel, the paint. Exactly as is, without cleaning anything at all, you stache them away into boxes. You wanted to preserve what you could, even if it was all for show.

By the time you finish cleaning out her desk, you feel winded from emotions. You decide to take a break and try to clean whatever was upstairs instead. Before you leave the room, you see another sticky note written behind the door.

remember ! wear your sweater, it’s cold today

And that’s when you start crying. 

.

.

.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

”Hey,” you say as you walk back into Gojo’s house in the early afternoon, holding up a digital camera that you found in the attic in your hand. “The upstairs of my house is cleaned out now, and I’m almost done with the downstairs part…just waiting on finishing one room. Can we start taking photos to put the listing up online?”

Gojo glances up at you from where he’s stood in the kitchen, tugging at his sleeves, and you just now notice he’s dressed up in a dark navy suit with a white shirt underneath. No tie. “Uhh yeah I can help you with it, I’ve just gotta go run a few errands and then we can do it when I get back?” He ruffles his hair a bit and you see that it’s slightly damp like he just took a shower.

“What errands?”

“Gas, amazon return, Costco. Maybe get a donut if I’m feeling like being a bad boy.”

“Ew. Also, why don’t you get gas at Costco?”

“It’s a little cheaper at Sam’s Club.”

You gasp. “You have a Sam’s Club membership??”

“Yes.”

“You’re a traitor.”

He rolls his eyes as he pushes his shoulders back to get better settled into his suit jacket. “I have a Costco membership too.” 

“Can I come?”

“What? For–...for the errands?”

“Yes.”

He blinks at you from the other side of the island, brow furrowing slightly. “Uh. Sure?”

You know it sounds silly to say, but not having to take care of someone twenty-four-seven has left you with little to no sense of purpose, and an even more intense feeling of loneliness. And as much as Gojo gets on your nerves from time to time, you’ve noticed that you’ve been…craving his presence lately. Or maybe a presence might be more accurate than any one specific person, but you can comfortably admit it to yourself that you’re a somewhat codependent person that enjoys being largely implemented into someone’s life. You’ve even started borderline nesting in his home. You bought two new fluffy throw blankets for his couch, set up a bowl of fruits at the center of the kitchen island, and stocked up on laundry detergent, even though he already had two backup boxes. It was driving you crazy. This feeling of having too much free time and personal space than what you knew what to do with.

And it had been a while since you went to Costco. The holy land for all adults. 

“Can I get this? Ohhhh what about this? Can we get this too? Wait. Wait. Brown sugar boba mochi?!” You hold the packet up into the air as if it were baby Simba in the Lion King, and then you turn to Gojo, clutching the bag to your chest. “Please?”

He exhales, leaning over the handle of the shopping cart and levels his gaze with you. “...no.”

You sulk your shoulders and sigh as you put it back.

He begins to push the cart down the aisle again. “You do realize that you have disposable income too, right?”

You trail after him. “No. I don’t. I’m in six figures of debt.”

He nods. “Fair.” And then he grabs a stray bag of brown sugar boba abandoned on top of the instant rice boxes then places it into the cart. 

You watch as Gojo makes his rounds around Costco, very diligently aligning all the items in his shopping cart and assessing the quality of each thing he crosses off his list before deeming it worthy of purchase. Much different than your usual Costco run, which involves a lot of chaos and sweat. And he feels very husband material like this. Breaking no sweat to put the garden fertilizer in the cart shelf meanwhile you would’ve pulled your back out trying to do the same if you were on your own.

As you two make your way through the store, you get stopped by the post-office man, and then the local judge, and then the elderly couple that runs the church's weekly Bingo nights. All greeting you politely with a quick exchange of words and usually a sweet regard for your mother’s health before passing on by. You keep having to introduce Gojo as your husband, and many of them already know who he is, despite the fact that he’s only lived here for a year, which royally pisses you off to great extents, but he’s a social whore so it makes sense. And then all of them coo sweet things like wow, what a beautiful couple and you’re so lucky to have each other and my oh my he’s very handsome and at this point you would pay someone twenty bucks to say something like well she’s a looker! good for you! to Gojo because you’re sick of him always getting the ego boosts. When asked where you guys went for your honeymoon, you both say “Greece–” “Maldives–” at the same time in typical unrehearsed fashion. One of the town locals even asks when the two of you are going to have a baby, and you almost snort your free sample of San Pellegrino out your nose.

Perhaps the only thing that keeps a little pep in your step is the fact that everyone greets you first before they catch the familiar sight of Gojo too. It’s a small thing to celebrate, but when you’ve lived in the same town your whole life, it becomes somewhat of a prideful and wholesome thing when the town librarian, local mechanic, and farmer’s market lady all stop you in your lovely little Costco stroll. It was all in a day’s work.

“Jeez, you’re hella famous, y/n,” Gojo says as he continues to push the cart down the aisle after you just got done catching up with the volunteer Fire Chief.

You toss your hair over your shoulder at him. “Yes. I am somewhat of a princess in this town.”

“Does that make me your prince?”

“No. You’re my filthy peasant.”

“Alright…I like where this is going…”

“Get your nasty degradation kink away from me, you perv. This is Costco. It’s the holy house of God.”

Once you two make it to the wine section, you stare at bottles of dessert wines and hear Gojo talking on the phone off to the side.

“Hey, Sana. I’m at Costco right now. Do you guys need anything? I already got Juno’s muffins,” he says into his phone as he places two containers of blueberry muffins into the cart. You eye the raspberry cream cheese strudels. “Huh? Cornstarch?....If I tried to look for cornstarch at Costco, I’d be here for three hours.”

“Satoru,” you say to him once he gets off the call, tugging at his sleeve, “could we get those Haagen Daz ice cream bars? They’re so good.”

“No,” he says, pushing the cart down the chip aisle before he grabs a bag of tortilla chips. “We can’t get anything that needs to be frozen or refrigerated. I’ve gotta go prep a house that’s in the area since we’re out this far. I’ve got an evening showing.”

“What?!” you exasperate, “I thought we were just going home after this!”

“I never said that.”

“I can’t believe this. I had been dreaming of grabbing those ice cream bars since you mentioned the word Costco back at home. You could’ve brought your little cooler thing that you keep in the garage.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted to come with me,” he says. “My original grocery list had seven non-perishable items on it.” You both glance at the cart, which was almost entirely full of things that you put in there. Things that nobody ever needs. Like a bladeless desk fan and an electric wine opener.

“Ah,” you say.

He smiles, leaning over the cart handle again and pushing it forward again away from the chilly air of the cooler section. “Retail therapy?”

You pout a little. “I haven’t had the chance in years.” You glance at the cart as he pushes it. “I should probably take it all out now.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “I’ll get you your bladeless fan. And whatever the fuck those other things are.”

You stop walking, blinking blankly at his back as he continues to wordlessly push the cart forward. There’s about a five second delay before you finally start trailing after him.

By the time Gojo finishes loading everything into the trunk of his car as you merely stand by for emotional support, and then he comes back from the long trek of returning the cart, you’re absolutely winded. You’re not sure why, because again, you haven’t really done much all day. But God damn, you forgot how exhausting it is to be a regular functioning member of society that contributes to the economy on the weekends (you didn’t pay for anything).

Gojo wordlessly takes off from the Costco parking lot and just when you think he’s going to get back onto the freeway to get to this house of his that he needs to prep, he jumps into the parking lot of a small shopping area before he parks his car in front of a smaller grocery store. 

You give him a puzzled look.

“Hold on,” he says before clicking his seatbelt off, “gotta go get that cornstarch.”

“Wait—” you say, reaching out to grab him by the sleeve of his suit jacket as the most intense sensation of FOMO you’ve ever felt in your life overtakes all of your senses. “I’ll come with.”

He quirks a brow at you. You’re not surprised at his confusion. After all, you’ve been acting like some drug addict in withdrawal of social proximity to him all day long. But you’re at least glad he doesn’t express any further bewilderment and allows you to follow him inside the store like a duckling.

As Gojo veers off in the direction of likely corn starchiness, in a confident manner that would suggest he’s been to this store many times before, you meander about the aisles at your leisure. You get lost in the bustling colors of produce stacked neatly on top of one another, such that they could rival the great pyramids of Egypt. Not to mention, processed foods lining the wall right next to it. This was what suburban life is all about. Matter of fact, this is what dreams are made of. 

“y/n?”

Oh, fuck. That voice is definitely not what dreams are made of.

The opposite, actually.

Nightmares.

You hear that voice in your nightmares.

You turn on your heel to find none other than your ex boyfriend, he who shall not be named (Choso Kamo), standing right behind you as he holds a grapefruit in his hand, blinking at you dumbly with surprise apparent on his face. 

“Wh—” you briefly stutter before the automatic scowl settles onto your face. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m buying fruit.”

“For what?”

“What do you mean, for what? To eat, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I’m not convinced you wouldn’t try to fuck that grapefruit. Given you have low standards for what you stick your dick inside of.”

“Uh?…I’ve stuck my dick inside of you plenty of t—”

“Shut it!!!” you yell at him, then turn away with a wince on your face. “I didn’t think it through before I said it.”

“As usual?”

“You’re being a jerk. You know who I meant when I said that.”

“Okay. So, you don’t think things through before you say them. And I continue to deflect said things. Let me know when anything’s changed between us, y/n.”

You cross your arms at him menacingly and unwaveringly glare at him as a meek mother pushes her young son by the shoulders away from the two simmering adults having their savory conversation within the produce aisle. You’re about the snark out another comment but then the automatic water sprayers interrupt your flow. And also a scrawny employee drops a giant box of eggplant onto the ground before placing them onto the produce shelf.

“What are you doing on this side of town? You’re never out here,” Choso says as he sets the grapefruit back onto the stack.

“I don’t know. What are you doing here?”

“This is my new go-to grocery store.”

“Why not go to the Trader Joe’s that we always used to go to? It’s way closer to you.”

His shoulders sulk slightly at that.

Oh.

Oh.

So, he’s been driving an extra thirty minutes each weekend to go grocery shopping on the other end of town,

Just so he doesn’t have to run into you anymore.

“Look…y/n,” he starts, “it’s not that I don’t want to see you—”

“Choso—”

“It’s just that you accuse me of fucking inanimate objects everytime I do see you.”

“I literally do not care if you do or don’t want to see me.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his gaze flitting downwards to your crossed arms, something catching his eye.

You glance down at yourself, and you catch the glimmer of diamond underneath bright fluorescent light.

“Oh come on,” Choso grumbles, “don’t tell me you actually wear that thing twenty-four-seven.”

“I’m a married woman, Choso. It’s what married women do.”

He clenches his jaw at that, tense enough to cause a vein strain in his neck, his brows narrowing into contempt, but just before he can say anything else, an arm wraps around your waist and you’re being pulled back into a broad chest.

“She’s pretty, huh?” you hear Gojo say and you blink up at him with your chin tilted towards the ceiling, and you yelp as he possessively pulls you in closer to him as he establishes jarring eye contact with Choso with that same old easy grin on his face. “Thank god I’m the one married to her.”

Choso almost blows a fuse at that. “I know she’s pretty,” he says through gritted teeth, “for six years, I was the one that got to f—”

“Ahh!!! Sale on tomatoes!!!” you interrupt the crass and ridiculously toxic masculine energy in the air as you wiggle out of Gojo’s grip then run over to the pristinely stacked romano tomatoes, picking some of them up and holding them like precious commodities. “Maybe we can make some tomato soup with grilled cheese tonight, honey???” you say with a forced smile towards Gojo as you now hold fifteen tomatoes in your arms, a couple of them falling to the floor with a bounce as they roll away.

“HEY!! LADY!!” the scrawny eggplant stacking employee from earlier yells out at you. Some late teens kid with acne speckled across his face and shaggy brown hair scattered over his forehead, somewhat slick with either gel or grease. “I just set those up!!! YOU SQUASH ‘EM, YOU BUY ‘EM.”

“Sorry,” you squeak out, putting the tomatoes back onto the display somewhat haphazardly before grabbing Gojo’s arm and tugging him towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here, please.”

“Huh? I’ve still gotta pay for the cornstarch though,” Gojo says, hardly budging despite your best efforts to womanhandle him.

“No time for that, we leave now. They don’t have cameras here, anyway. I already checked.” You continue to tug on his arm, your body leaning at an almost forty-five degree angle towards the exit as you struggle to get some drag to his feet, but again, he doesn’t budge.

You don’t know exactly why you so adamantly want to restrict Gojo from interacting with Choso, but maybe a part of it was embarrassment. You didn’t want Gojo to find out what Choso did to you and what an absolute fool he had made out of you. It would hurt your pride.

“Isn’t this guy a cop?” Gojo asks as he points his thumb towards Choso. “And you’re telling me to shoplift in front of him?”

“Can you just be on my fucking side for one second?” you grit at him, yanking on his sleeve so hard you almost tear the cuffs out of the holes, and he finally sighs before relenting into a gait towards your general direction.

As you hug Gojo’s arm tightly to keep his momentum towards you, you walk backwards and send Choso a nasty glare. His eyes are wide, studying you and Gojo together as you get further and further away from him. And for a brief, brief, brief, ever-so-slight fleeting moment of love and familiarity and the sight of his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the memory of warmth when he used to hold you in his arms in bed on cold winter mornings, you find that you miss him a little. But only a little. You swear that it’s only a little.

Gojo still makes a pit stop at the register much to your pleading dismay, but as always he has zero regard or interest for your melodramatic outbursts, but at least he shoves the extra change from the purchase into his pocket in a somewhat timely fashion so that you two can head out the door in your artificial haste.

In the car, you quickly click your seatbelt on and then have to watch Gojo as he takes his time clicking his back into place and enter some address into his car. You see the ETA on the GPS, and how it shows that this address is roughly thirty-four minutes away.

Once he gets onto the freeway, your mind begins to wander back to seeing Choso at the grocery store and how the sight of him rattled you. You twiddle with your thumbs in your lap nervously, shift around in your seat, chew at the edge of your nail, and Gojo seems to notice this.

“You know, having lived in this town your whole life, I would think you’d be used to the discomfort of running into people you don’t want to see,” he says.

You sigh. “Yes. In theory. But with Choso, it’s–…it’s different.” You hesitate.  “It’s just that—” you try again before worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, “it’s just that, sometimes I don’t get him.”

Gojo is silent for a few seconds as he stares straight towards the road before he responds with, “What do you mean?”

“Like, he avoids me like the plague, and then begs me to go back to him, and then he pretends like I’m just a nuisance to him, and then when he sees me with you, he acts all—…I don’t know…all—”

“Jealous?”

You sink into your seat. “Something like that.”

“Hm. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t know. But you’re not wrong to find it strange.”

Feeling strangely validated in your feelings, you sit there twiddling with your thumbs and then glance out the window. There’s a silence that lasts maybe ten seconds before you say,

“Thanks for interrupting back there. Although, you don’t have to try to deliberately make him jealous anymore. Even though I know I literally asked you to do that. Which makes me a woman of severe psychiatric ailment. Of which I am slightly embarrassed about at the moment.”

“Nah,” he says as he turns the right onto the freeway entrance. When you look over at him, he has a smile on his face. “I like it. It’s never boring with you.”

Unsure if that’s a compliment or some shade of insult, you say, “and that’s a good thing?”

He shrugs, releasing one hand from the wheel and curling the other in a tight knuckled grip at the top of it as the car drives steady down the freeway. He rests his right elbow on the storage console. “Well, it’s different from what I’m used to.”

What are you used to? You so badly want to ask him.

But a flashback to his childhood bedroom at his parent’s house comes back to you.

Yearbook signatures, trophies, and photos abandoned underneath a bed.

You almost don’t even want to acknowledge that he has lived a life before you.

Was that self centered? Or perhaps childish? Or perhaps all in human nature?

You decide not to respond, instead directing your attention to the world outside the car window. The blades of grass dance across the shoulder of the road, all greenery following suit in the same swift motion. You watch as the land slowly turns from developed to more and more remote, yet still cozy and charming. Fields of green, vineyard arrangements, a wooden sign for a winery, a picturesque red barn house, a small cattle farm, an old town church with a bronze bell, hills of empty acres that are just begging to be touched by some great idea or civilization.

You’re privy to change in texture underneath the wheels as Gojo makes a turn onto gravel road about two miles after getting off the freeway. He drives up a hill, maybe a forty-five degree angle, with the crunch of rocks rubbing against the tread of the tires and you see a more distinct, purposeful arrangement of short decorative trees that line the properties of this narrow gravel road. They were large houses, sitting on slightly slanted hills that were all a part of a bumpy landscape that extends for miles. Some had formal fences, some had chain links, but all had expansive yards with no clear distinction of boundary, where the backyard could be the front yard too if only you had the imagination for it.

One house in particular catches your eye. It’s a pretty two story house with a detached garage or perhaps shed, painted in a dusky auburn with dark wooden paneling and structure. It sat near the top of this hill, the front yard being a steep upwards slope of grassy terrain that stretched for the full length of the property, about a hundred yards. The backyard dips behind the back of the hill, downwards into some territory you cannot set eyes on. But it’s stunning. It was gorgeous. Serene. With views of lush green surrounding its every corner. Intimately located, yet open enough to fresh air in which you almost feel one with the world. And in the early evening light, it looked like heaven.

You let out a slow exhale as you take in the sight that looks like a painting to you. There was something so romantic about a home. For as long as time, humans have enjoyed personifying objects, such as boats or planes or cars or  trains. But what could feel more of a living thing than a home?

You hear Gojo click his seatbelt off beside you and you glance over at him. You click off your own seat belt and open your door, stepping out onto the gravel road.

Gojo comes around the car and approaches you, holding a folder in his hand with papers you can only assume have information on the property listing. You also hear the jingle of keys in his pocket as he pushes his hand into it. 

“Got about,” he glances at his watch, “twenty minutes to prep. Oh, and if my clients ask, I’ll just introduce you as my assistant. And we’ll pretend that we have some sort of inappropriate workplace relationship. Just to intrigue them. It’ll make the house more memorable. Sound like a plan?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever gets food on your table.”

You watch as he pushes a copper key into the rusted lock that was clipped onto the chains holding the fence together, guarding the property. He yanks it down once he’s unlocked it and then pulls the fence apart, opening the way to head up the house. It borders on a feeling of trespassing, but you trail closely behind Gojo as he makes his way up the grassy hill, reminding yourself that he has the clearance as a realtor.

You glance around the property a bit more. There’s a small pond in the dip of one of the smaller hills, fuzzy with moss and some small fish you can see snapping at the surface of the water. Off to the right of it, there are similarly moss covered stone benches, small and antique. Perfect to sit there and watch the sun set behind the house. And towards the left, a small gondola with arranged stained glass stepping stones. 

“Charming, huh?” Gojo says over his shoulder at you, and you realize he’s caught you staring at everything in awe.

Gojo makes it to the veranda after lengthy strides across the broad concrete steps that lead to the most stunning hardwood door you’ve ever seen in your life. He turns around to glance at you when he realizes you’re still stuck at the bottom of the steps, digging your heels into the ground underneath you.

“It’s–” you start, looking across the landscape while melancholy washes over you, “...I just can’t believe that someone gets to live here someday.”

He pushes his hands inside of his pant pockets, silent for a few moments. “Is everything alright?”

You look up at him, the question threatening to make the rawness in your throat burn even more. “Yes, I just–” you scoff at yourself a little before turning back to face the little pond, now further in the distance, “I just realized that I’ll probably never be able to afford a house in my life, so I’ll never really know what it’s like to have a realtor show me around a home I could potentially one day call my own. It’s something that sounds so surreal to me.”

There’s a silence that lasts for three seconds, and when you look up at him, his gaze is soft.

“Alright,” he says, jerking his head towards the direction of the door with his hands still lax in his pockets, “let’s take you on a tour of this one, then.”

You blink up at him, heart beating a little faster. “O-...Okay.” And you hop up the stairs to meet him at the top. The fragrance of wild roses and lavender brush past your senses as the leaves sway with the breeze. 

The moment you enter inside, you’re greeted by a faint trace of vanilla lingering in the air. The foyer is warm, inviting, with soft oak floors that creak ever so slightly with each step you two take forward into it, proving the life that it’s lived. To your left, there’s a spacious living room that glows with the golden light of the early evening sun that has started to gently make its descent from high up in the sky. Filtering through sheer curtains, touching your skin from afar, you glance down at your arm and the glow of heaven that’s been imprinted on it. 

Gojo walks further into the living room, pulling the curtains back a bit and then opens one of the windows by pushing up on it. A small draft reaches you as you walk towards him. Off to the right in a corner is a fireplace, the mantle adorned with wilting candles and creased old books.

“Is it wood-burning?” you ask Gojo.

He nods his head. “Can easily convert it to gas if that’s something you’d like better.”

There’s a sense of joy in your chest at the way he continues to play along, pretending as if your opinion truly matters–as if, just for now, you were a serious contender to make this place your home. 

“No,” you say, tracing a finger over the dark wood of the mantle, collecting withered dust. “I like it better like this.”

As he leads you into the kitchen, set your eyes on the marble countertops that meet soft sage cabinetry, the window behind the sink overlooking the rolling landscape of the backyard. You stand on your tiptoes to get a better view of what’s down the hill, and you see a small trickling creek that flows down the valley. Your gaze diverts towards the countertops and you see an elegant collection of mismatched china.

Spinning on your heel, you find Gojo leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you inspect every inch. “When were these appliances last updated?” you ask, running your hand across the oven handle.

“About fourteen years ago.”

“Ah, they’re a little old.”

He smiles at you. “So the tolerance for vintage charm ends with kitchen appliances?”

“Charm is cute,” you say, a little cheekily as you move on without him towards the staircase, “but not when the house burns down because of an oven gas leak.”

He hums from behind you as he follows you, and you can hear the smile on his face through the sound alone. “You’re looking out for the right things.”

The staircase, with its dark wood railing and white balusters, curves gently upwards into the second floor. Just like your own home, the third and first steps creak beneath your feet. You always loved the sound, although you know most people attempt to fix such things in a house. For you, it felt like each step had a story, and some were very vocal about never being forgotten. 

The upstairs hallway is lined with more windows, filling the space with the same golden glow that now dances across the soft, tapering wallpaper that has begun to peel around the edges slightly. Your feet wander on their own with a sense of grace that seems to have taken hold of you. 

The first bedroom you stumble across is small, but still enchanting. The bay window has a small reading nook with cushions piled up on the surface, inviting the image of lazy afternoons spent lost in books as the world beyond the glass panes flutters in the wind. The queen-sized bed in the center of the room is minimally dressed and faces an oak dresser that was leaning slightly away from the wall in a crooked fashion. 

The room across from the first bedroom appears to be a study. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are bolted to the walls and a vintage writing desk sits by another window where the changing light of day turns the room into a living painting. Your mother crosses your mind. And how much she would’ve loved this window. You could picture her setting up her easel and canvas here, painting away with strokes that could threaten even the beauty of the view outside the window. You think about how much joy that would’ve brought to her. 

In that same trance, you walk down the hall to the end with Gojo following behind you. You push through the set of double doors that lead into the master bedroom. It was spacious, yet intimate, with vaulted ceilings and a four-poster bed draped in airy linen curtains. Sitting across from it is another fireplace surrounded by two picturesque little chairs. One with a square backrest colored a dark burgundy, and the other with an oval backrest colored a pinkish opal. Between the two was a small table that had a stack of a few books. 

The attached en-suite bathroom appears timeless, with a clawfoot tub resting beneath a wide, arched window that offers the view of the rolling hills in their entire glory. The marble vanity has vintage brass fixtures that reflect the soft glow of the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, one that takes the shape of the roof of the house. 

You hear tapping on the window to your right, and when you glance over there, you see a tree branch bothering the surface due to the wind. 

Your eyes also catch the faint bordering corner of wood beyond the frame of the window.

With wide eyes, you turn to Gojo and point in that general direction. “Is that…?”

“The balcony,” he says, then nods, “it’s connected to this room.”

He leads you out onto the wooden platform, the floorboards warm under your feet from the early evening sun. It stretches out about ten feet and wraps around the entire back end of the house, with easily the most breathtaking vantage point you’ve seen thus far. An entire view of the creek that disappears into the valley, the image of dancing wildflowers on distant rolling hills, the sun that continues to glow in the distance, and a gentle breeze with the faintest hint of salt, as though from a distant ocean. It felt like its own quiet little world. A place where time slows, and you can just be as you are. It was difficult to put into words, but you had never felt more at peace in your entire life.

Gojo leans over the sturdy yet worn railing as he glances down at the grass near the foundation of the house. You come up beside him, loosely curling your hands into a grip around the rusted metal.

You see him turn his face to you in your periphery, but you continue to stay staring ahead.

“So…what do you think? Can you picture yourself living here?” he asks you as a soft brush of breeze passes by. 

“Well–” you start, but then a sobering thought flashes through you, “wait, Satoru, what happened to your clients?”

“Oh, yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket to glance at it, “they texted me about ten minutes ago that they weren’t going to make it.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve left.”

“Well, you seemed like you were in some sort of trance while you were looking around. I was scared to interrupt it.”

You breathe in deep and then let out a slow sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly. “Mhm. The house is beautiful. And, yes, I could picture myself living here.” 

More than just that. It was like a dream house. The one that a person would see in fleeting memories right before they pass, as it holds all of their most beloved ones. That ethereal, it was. 

He hums softly. You look over at him and find him blinking slowly. The wind brushes through his hair, ruffling it up gently, to where you could see the blueness in his eyes a little more clearly. That, too, was ethereal. 

“Satoru,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He continues to stare at the horizon. “Sure.”

“Where did you live before you moved here?”

“New york city,” he easily tells you.

But the answer surprises you. “R-Really?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Really long.”

“Mm. You don’t seem like it.”

“Like what? An asshole from the city?”

“Mhm. Just a regular asshole.”

He laughs. You feel the rumble of it from the way your shoulder was pressed up against his arm. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask him. But the question was not one that you had thought to say. Rather, it felt as though it was placed on your tongue by someone else.

You feel his shoulders rise slightly with the deep breath he draws in as he leans over the railing a bit more. “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I still own a place there in downtown Manhattan,” he says, “but I don’t really plan on moving back there ever. So I was thinking of selling it and getting something out here instead.”

“Oh?” you say, “like what? Where?”

“This,” he says, pointing to the wooden panels you two were standing on, “this house.”

You blink, caught between surprise and something deeper. “This house?” you echo, your voice quiet. 

He nods, his fingers tapping lightly against the railing. “Yeah. Although, I still show it to people if they’re interested. It’s been on the market for over three years though.”

You let your gaze drift over the balcony, the way the light softens against the weathered wood, and suddenly, the house doesn’t feel the same. Like it carries more weight somehow. Like it feels more real, more alive. And maybe that’s what makes a house a home–the intent to belong in it. 

"You see that greenery over there?" he asks, his arm stretching out as he highlights an area in the distance with his hand, "aaaaall the way down there?" Now pointing at the creak.

"Mm," you squint, "uh-huh!"

"Believe it or not, those are all avocado trees."

Your eyes widen and then you look at him. "No way."

He smiles. "Yeahhh. Three-point-four acres of 'em. And they're all a part of this lot."

Your smile matches his equally as nerdy one. "Wow I bet you loooove that.

"I do," he grins, and then gratuitously sights, "all I can eat guacamole 'til the day I die."

You snort.

"Yeah, anyways, that's why no one wants to buy this house," he says, "guess how much it costs to water them per month.”

"Mm, per month?" you look up to the golden sky, "a few thousand?"

"Try a hundred-and-fifty thousand."

"What–...I beg your finest fucking PARDON?!?!"

He laughs. "Yeah that's usually the reaction I get when I end a tour of this house on that note."

“That’s so insane…what’s the point of buying the house, then?”

"Avocados are hard to grow, they can be finicky, but all the land on this lot is extremely fertile," he says, "and if you can import the produce, it actually ends up being pretty lucrative." He points across to the dip in the hill behind the creak. "You could turn that place over there into some kind of ranch, too. Or a wedding venue, and rent it out. I don't know. The property has a lot of investment value. But the house itself is a bit dated. Would need some work."

"Like a fixer-upper on HGTV,” you offer for the conversation.

"Yeahhh. Something like that."

"Mm," you hum.

"Y’know, I was on HGTV once."

"What?! There's no way."

"Yup. House hunters."

"Bullshit. I would've known. I have seen every single episode since I graduated college."

"Oh, well, this was back when they still had Design Star on. I was like twenty-four or something. Fresh new realtor."

"Oh right. I was still in college then. I forgot that you're ancient."

He gives you an irritated side eye.

"So...will you be fixing up this house?" you ask him. His hobby of woodworking starts to make a little bit more sense.

"Maybe. I don't know if I'm too young to be thinking about retirement yet...but that's kind of what I was thinking of turning it into. A dream retirement home."

"You're definitely not young. Don't worry about that."

He gives you another irritated look.

"What happens to your other house, then?" you say. "The one next door."

“Hmm," he muses, "I'll probably stay there another year or so and then rent it out eventually."

"You don't want to settle down there? Raise your kids there?" you blurt out. You immediately wince a little at the forward question, but wasn't that something people thought about when thinking of a house? Do they not imagine filling it with their own hopes and dreams? Do they not picture their spouse sitting on the porch outside, swinging with the wind? Do they not picture their children's laughter down the hallway? 

A shiver runs down your spine. You glance over at Gojo, who continues to stare forward towards the horizon, His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he's deep in thought staring out into the landscape as the golden sun begins to turn purple in the sky, casting a dimming glow on his face.

And you wonder. You briefly wonder what a home must mean to him, after having to witness his parents perish in the flames of the one that housed his childhood. 

"It's a nice house," he finally responds to you, "but a part of me wants to live faaaaar away from everyone and everything someday." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he can already tell how contradictory you find that sentiment to be. Mr Grew Up In New York City wants to live in a quaint little cape-cod-esque agriculture farmland property miles away from major civilization? what was it about the city that changed him so much? “Just be at peace, you know. Plant a million more avocado trees out here in the middle of nowhere, and not have to worry about their devilish spawns dropping all over my cute neighbor's herb garden.”

You flutter your eyelids, the comment catching you off guard, before your entire posture softens. "Satoru...it's ok. I'll move my herb garden."

"Oh, you thought I meant you? I was talking about seventy-four year old Barbara to my right."

You sulk your shoulders and roll your eyes, turning away from him to face forward towards the landscape again.

He laughs. "I'm just teasing."

You glance over at him again, and there's that same distant stare he casts over the greenery in the distance. 

"I can't believe your dream in life is to become a farmer," you say.

"Ehhh. It's honest work." he exhales slowly. The sun is now sitting on the hilltop. "It's just a dream, anyways. Just a dream. I'm still allowed to have those, right?" It was asked with genuine curiosity. 

"Why are you asking me for permission?"

His eyes hood ever so slightly, a dip in his expression you can't quite discern. but it's evident in the way his gaze off across the horizon dampens. "Hm. I don't know."

You shiver a little as the evening wind brushes past, and Gojo catches sight of the movement. you mentally curse yourself, because you know that you've just cut this moment short.

"It's cold," he says, "let's get inside."

You try to think of ways to stay here. Ways to lengthen this moment. Ask him for his jacket and make some teasing comment about how he's not a gentleman. Or lie and say that you're not cold at all, that you run warm when you know all your life you've always had cold hands and feet. Or just tell him that you don't want this moment to end. Tell him you want to see the sun through its sunset. Tell him how you never want to step foot off of this house ever again.

"Okay," you whisper. 

And he leads you back inside, down the stairs, and as you stand out on the veranda, at the grassy hills towards his car, you implant this memory in your head, this feeling of standing on this home and dreaming as if it were yours. Before all it becomes is exactly that, 

Only a dream. 

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch.7, ‘if u wanna get groceries’]

songs of the chapter:  groceries by mallrat  margaret by lana del rey

a/n. thanks so much for reading! this was a fun chapter to write, especially the house sequence. i think it’s mentioned in the chapter somewhere, but yeah…i just think there’s something so romantic and melancholic about a home :’’) i guess that’s a recurring theme in ihm, with reader’s childhood home holding the memories that her mother has lost of her, and then ihm gojo losing his parents to a destructive house fire, and also him being a realtor, and also reader planning to sell her house, and then the dream house in this chapter. it’s been fun breathing a bit of life into these different settings themselves. ah i also decided i want to include little “song(s) of the chapter” to the end of these! just as something kinda fun to do. i’d say these are songs that inspired me to write certain scenes within the chapter, or songs that i listened to a lot while writing the chapter, or songs i could picture playing during the ending credits if this were a tv show xd. but yeahhh!! also just a way to share music bc i love music lol.  big thank you to my beta readers mirl, leni, and ayelin for helping me out w parts of this chapter n giving me motivation to write it <33 i appreciate you guys sososo much!! i really attribute a lot of my writing motivation towards them, as i’ve been really busy but been able to write these lengthy chapters bc of their support.  i did kinda rush parts of this chapter just because i wanted to get it out on the weekend, so i apologize if there are errors or mistakes of if anything’s a little confusing or sudden. tbh i did want to spend a tiny bit more time on it but, that’s ok. fuck it we ball also! i just wanted to say a quick thank you to all of my readers and those that have stuck around for so long with me or maybe newer readers who have interacted or become invested w my works recently… i know that i am so slow w updates and sometimes inconsistent w it as well, life just gets so crazy for me and it’s a struggle to find proper time to sit down and write, and i wish soooo badly to put out chapters faster, but yea easier said than done haha. but all of my readers who continue to engage with lil ol’ me even despite all of that really means a lot to me, more than i can say :”) i still face self doubts so often w my writing, i’m halfway convinced i’ll never be satisfied w my craft, but the little interactions i have w everyone really make my day and push me forward to write even when it’s hard and i realized i haven’t really said a proper thank u to u guys for that as of late. plus i know jjk manga has ended and also i took a hiatus n also tumblr has lowkey been fuckin me over on the algorithm too lol etc etc i definitely have noticed i’ve lost some readers n engagement along the way, which i understand is natural n just a part of being a long fic author however daunting that may be, but i just really wanted to say a thank you to those who continue to be here irrespective of all of that. i appreciate everyone who sees value in my works enough to read them, follow up w them, interact w them, share them, like them etc. especially w ihm bc sometimes i feel so bad for the slow burn and the yap haha i’m sure some of you may be privy to the fact by now that this story will be very long and also so much more than just the romance. but…i find confidence from you all to follow my vision and i’m really grateful for that.  very likely that the next chapter is in ihm gojo’s pov :0 very exciting and makes me a lil nervous. for some reason i find his pov somewhat intimidating to write for loool. but hopefully i’ll pull it off.

much love!! there will be a delay in getting this chapter up on ao3 and also adding it to the masterlist etc bc i'll be away from keyboard when this posts from my queue, but everything should be updated by the time i'm back home tonight :) see you all in the next one <3 -ellie

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[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | 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: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today 🤗 This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I��d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[soleilapproves]

Can I make a request for a pregnant y/n? Like jjk men and y/n get to the hospital when she goes into labor and they’re only expecting one baby but she ends up having twins? I’d love to know their reactions 😭🩷

Girl, realistically, I don’t think that’s possible with ultrasounds and stuff.

BUT, for the sake of the fic, let’s just say that you’re in a time period where ultrasounds don’t exist and physicians rely on taking your pulse or something to see if you’re pregnant or not.

cw: pregnancy, small descriptions of birth

Nanami is always a level headed and cool man. So when you popped out two kids instead of one, he had the most calm expression ever, only stroking your cheek and cooing in your ears about how well you did. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying his best not to rip his own hair out. The house was only ready for one baby—one nursery, one nanny, one chest of clothes. Now he was going to have work just as hard to set up the same for another baby in a very short time. You don’t notice his hand trembling when the midwife tells him that there’s another kid in the equation, his main focus would probably be on making sure you’re feeling better considering that you’re in the most overwhelming phase of being a new mom. All in all, I think he’d be very scared, but he’d face this change head on and would try his best to be a good dad to both his kids (all while freaking out on the inside.)

Gojo would be elated! Double the trouble. While you’re in pain, moaning and crying while pushing out the afterbirth, Gojo is already giggling over his new children, both annoyingly being the spitting images of their father. The nurse would probably yell at him to settle down because he’s being a nuisance and send him out for being annoying, not gonna lie. But who can blame him? He’s just so excited to take both his babies home and shower them with all the love and attention in the world. There’s no doubt that you’re nervous and scared after birthing twins, you aren’t even sure how you’ll nurse them or give them attention at the same time, and seeing this, Gojo vows to make your life easier with the babies. The nannies would often complain that Gojo leaves them no work because he’s always enthusiastic to look after his little ones.

Out of all the JJK men, I think Toji would have the worst reaction. He would be freaking the fuck out and would not be shy about it. He’d be clutching on to your hand to prevent himself from fainting after the midwife yells that there’s another one coming. It’s not that he exhibits weaponized incompetency, he’s just genuinely scared of messing up twice the amount now. He’d definitely be insecure throughout the first month though, wondering if he’s even blessed enough to deserve two little angels and a lovely wife. But that doesn’t stop him from trying his best. He makes a LOT of mistakes, but he’s always ready to learn, albeit, he’s a sloppy student, but he tries and that’s what matters. The kids also say dad first so he feels like he did something right after all.

Geto is a certified twin dad. It was on his resume when he started dating you. He is not scared, and is in dad mode the second you both find that you’re carrying. So imagine his delight when there’s two babies instead of one in the cradle, both looking like they’re the most precious things on Earth. Very overprotective, especially two times as much since his babies are so beautiful, he would not let anyone in a three feet radius of his children during the first month and it took a lot of convincing to let him loose and decrease the requirement to two feet. They’re the apples of his eye and so are you. He’s surprisingly good at dividing his attention well so nobody feels excluded. He made you feel safe and secure since the beginning, constantly reassuring you that raising twins is light work. You wouldn’t know if you’d still have your sanity if he was not the father of your children.

Sukuna makes you want to smack his face while giving birth. While you’re there, having the most uncomfortable and painful time, Sukuna is laughing to himself while holding both his babies to his chest, all four arms supporting them. He begins to yell about how he has two heirs now and the midwife smacks the back of his head so he’ll quiet down. Too bad he can’t kill her because she helped deliver his tiny demons. He had already started imagining what he’d teach the kid when he found out that you were pregnant, but now that there’s two kids there’s going to be twice the fun. He imagines teaching both his kiddos how to fight, maybe if they have too much energy and are annoying him then he’ll make them spar with each other. He laughs to himself menacingly and you try not to worry about what the man is planning. He also does not clean dirty diapers and does not make you do any of that either. Will probably force you away from the kids if he has to because the poor servants can handle it. He just wants to you to remember the fun parts of parenthood.

[sharlleglerg]

some funny parts from lorenzo & arthur’s interview by autohebdo:

Could you share an anecdote that would help us understand what Charles was like as a child?

Lorenzo: Arthur and I might have different perspectives because I’m nine years older than Charles. My best friend was Jules Bianchi, and we spent a lot of time fooling around on a circuit, having fun, and testing all kinds of karts and tires. Charles was always in the middle of it all and wanted to do the same as us. Even back then, he was extremely competitive, always trying to race against the older kids and beat them. He had the same qualities that define him today: elegance and class in his approach. He is ultra-competitive, but in a fair way. I’ve seen him break tennis rackets, but always out of frustration with himself rather than others. He’s a very fair player.

Arthur: Umm… fair play? Maybe not so much with me! (Laughs) Especially when we played PlayStation—he always gave me the broken controller! That little prick! (Laughs)

Charles became a pianist, and Arthur, you also play music. Who is the best musician in the family?

Arthur: In the beginning, Charles was terrible at piano, I have to say! (Laughs) I remember the first time he touched a piano at our country house—someone was teaching him a song. I was behind him, and he was struggling a lot. Then, I took over and played the song perfectly on the first try. (Laughs) So he gave up and switched to the guitar, which was an even bigger disaster!

Lorenzo: Especially for us!

Arthur: Acoustic guitar, electric guitar… he tried everything! (Laughs) But he eventually got better. He later returned to playing piano, learned much faster, and now he’s actually very talented!

But who is the best musician?

Arthur: We play very different styles. I prefer classical music, while Charles plays more calm, nostalgic songs—he likes that kind of atmosphere. (Laughs) In terms of technique, we are quite similar.

Lorenzo: I’ll be the judge since piano isn’t really my thing. Arthur has perfect pitch, meaning he can replay any song quite easily. He never wanted to take piano lessons, which disappointed our grandmother, who would have loved a great pianist in the family. But Arthur never liked the idea of sitting next to a teacher for long hours. So on one hand, Arthur has a natural talent but only plays when he wants. On the other hand, Charles worked hard at it, especially during the COVID lockdown in 2020, and he’s become really impressive, considering how busy he is!

Between the two of you, who is the best uncle to Leo, Charles’ dog?

Arthur: I think we’re both not great uncles!

Lorenzo: We tried our best, but Leo is a very spoiled dog. He demands a lot of attention—he doesn’t sleep alone and isn’t exactly the cleanest. I decided to take care of him during the day but not at night. He’s adorable, but not always easy to manage!

Arthur: He goes crazy every time he sees me, but I’ve never actually taken him home. I’m the fun uncle—I only see him for the good times! (Laughs)

[tragic-ships-tournament]

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[nothatsmi]

The heavy world's upon your shoulders, will we burn on or just smolder? Somehow, I know I'll find you there. Oh, you wanna see if you can change it (change it), still, I know I'll see you there.

↑ I put this verse but they all work, somehow (i wanted to do an even longer drawing at the beginning, sheesh).

Linking music with content is my absolute favorite thing to do. I did it with aftg, and also for trc with this post (muse!!) and obviously the animatic, which happens to have turned 1 year old very recently (happy birthday).

Anyway, I'll do a trc reread soon, last time was two years ago (!!), i've read extracts since but it won't do for much longer.

[mctvsh]

first post here so i'm quite nervous, but!

all i can think of kidnapped!enemy!medic!reader x poly!tf141

cw: military & war inaccuracies + some medical inaccuracies as well, reader uses she/her pronouns, and is mostly girl based, mentions of religion & prayer, first time writing so it will unfortunately be sloppy 💕

let's just say the boys (mostly one you've come to known as, Ghost) haven't been too kind to you. taken from a random battlefield where you were technically there to help YOUR team. they practically throw you over their shoulder and find some fucked up abandoned building with nobody around to help..

great. now what?

you're mostly terrified, and a little pissed. you've heard a few things about them, whispers around your base which, to be frank, aren't the kindest words you've heard about someone! one of them is bleeding out, some guy with a mohawk and a Scottish accent. some gash on his.. thigh? you haven't really been listening since you're scared out of your mind.

your clothes are sticking quite uncomfortably on you, the wet concrete floor has made your ass numb. until they all come in. staring down at you like you're some piece of prey, holding a limping Scot.

"Fix him, yeah?" mutton-chops.

your eyes snap over to the guy who you assumed is the Captain. huh!?

"Uh- I.. need my tools-" you practically squeak out. avoiding eye contact. your medbag was taken from you the second they basically claimed you as 'theirs.'

you hear a grunt (Ghost, you're guessing) and then, thankfully, your medbag being thrown right at you.

you bite at your now chapped lips and create a makeshift bed with your jacket now on the floor and hesitantly nod to the dark skin. he was pretty, ah — getting side tracked. he was the one holding the Scot up, who had stopped his incessant comments (jokes, but weren't very funny) and was now grunting.

unfortunately, you're a medic, a person who helps people, before you're anything else.

the dark skinned male sets the Scot down, and you can see his shudder.. and you almost begin to feel bad before you feel a gun pressed to your back.

great.

"I can't help him if you're doing that." you swallow, thickly. you'll be killed!? isn't that a damn war crime!?

you feel the gun retreat after a few seconds of silence. you breathe out, albeit shakily, but trying not to give them a chance to know how terrified you were.

you locate the source of the bleeding, it isn't too bad at all. you open your medbag, grab some trauma shears, and you cut through his slacks, big enough to work on the stab wound which wasn't too deep but it still needed stitches.

you grab some gauze, disinfectant, numbing cream, and a thread and needle. okay, time to get to work..

it had been a little over 10 minutes. finally finished up with stitching as you place a bandage around his thigh, his pant leg wasn't fully cut off so it was definitely still wearable..

the second you finish up you're being pulled away by the scruff of your neck (Ghost again), your tools splayed out on the floor, thrown off to the side with a Captain staring down right at you.

"Your name?"

you blink up at him. muttering your name as you shuffle a little closer to the corner of the abandoned building. the dark skin and Ghost hover over the Scot instead. which meant that mutton-chops over here, was gonna grill you.. you think. until he stays silent and gives a hum in acknowledgment.

he would be handsome, kind even, if he wasn't staring down at you like that.

your eyes flick over to a Scot who had now been sat up with the help of a narrow eyed dark skin. you bite down, hard at your bottom lip. drawing some blood. you hear a grunt coming from the Scot who had, unfortunately, been feeling okay.

seems the numbing cream did it's job.. because he's back to flirting and making jokes.

"Thanks for patchin' me up, bonnie."

it's not like you had a choice... you nod at him and continue looking down at the floor.

"We'll take 'er back to base." Ghost.

your eyes widen and you suddenly feel a little more religious, praying to whatever God is up there and hoping for the best.

"Aye, a pretty lass, ain't she?" that damn Scot!

they're talking as if you're not right here!

"We still have hours before there's a chopper coming for us." the Captain, and that's all he says as he brings out a cigar. lighting it in your face as if it's some.. joke.

"Aye." the skull-mask says before his brooding body walks over to a corner, staring down at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

and suddenly, you feel a very familiar lump in your throat.. back to THEIR base!? who knows what they'll do to you..

[authorhjk1]

could you do a how does KIOF roleplay?

Julie

At first you found Julie's roleplaying a little off putting. You're fine with a lot of stuff, but you didn't expect her to one day randomly suggest something this taboo. Julie doesn't have a brother or sister, but you're not sure if that makes it better or not. She herself told you that she knows it is weird at the beginning, but you can see how much it turns her on. How wet she gets when you call her your sister while you nail her naked body into the living room window. How her eyes glisten with lust while she strokes your cock, admiring it as if she saw it for the first time.

"Oh my god, little brother. I didn't know you had such a nice cock."

Julie liked a lot of foreplay as well, which makes the sex itself even more real. By now you can't count the times when you were just watching TV in the living room and suddenly Julie came in, only wearing the tightest crop top that showed off her naked nipples through the fabric and her lace panties, and just kneeled in front of the TV, then took something out of the drawer underneath it and walked away again. And everytime she said something, which made it clear what she's expecting you to do next.

"By the way, mom and dad are gonna be home late today."

On the weekends, Julie even roleplays early in the morning. When you're preparing breakfast she walks into the kitchen, only wearing a shirt of yours, which ends halfway down her thighs. Then, she opens the fridge and bends down, the hem of your shirt riding up her ass so you can have a good view of her wet pussy.

"Why do you always eat my stuff? You better make it up to your sister, sweetie."

Natty

Natty always had a thing for giving you head at random times since the beginning of your relationship. Sh just loved how you always looked so surprised when she either just dropped to her knees in front of you when the two of you were alone, or when she took your hand without a word in public, just giving you a wink, before leading you to a more private space.

And since she found the succubus hairband and wings while looking for a Halloween costume last year, Natty constantly roleplays as succubus. She keeps changing her outfit, but always includes the wings and horns.

When you wake up in the morning, you're greeted by her in nothing but sexy lingerie, her lips already tightly sealed around your cock. After a long day at work, you sometimes come home to Natty roleplaying different roles, while still roleplaying as succubus. A succubus school girl, a succubus teacher, a succubus cheerleader, a succubus bride who's husband is lying in the next room, already completely drained of his cum.

But for some reason, today's outfit might be your favorite. The nun outfit is obviously a sexier version of an actual thing a nun would wear, but you still catch the wings on her back and the two balck horns, which peak out from underneath her veil. Natty even put in red contact lenses, making her look even more like a succubus in disguise.

"Do you want to know what sinning feels like?"

Belle

Belle is a princess. I think that's pretty obvious. That's how she likes to be treated during sex all the time anyway. Throughout your time with her, she's tried out very different forms of princesses. Obviously Disney princesses came first. Cinderella, Belle, Jasmine and so on. But once Belle tried out all of these often enough, she moved on.

Last week you came home to her lying on your bed, the only thing she was wearing was princess Leia's custome from Jabba's palace. She offered you her leash and asked you to be the roughest you've ever been with her. Which still doesn't mean that much since getting fucked from behind while getting her face pressed into the sheets is already extreme for her. She's just a soft princess most of the time.

Yesterday you were greeted by a Chinese princess. Belle wore a silk hanfu, which showed all kinds of light colours, making her look like a spring goddess. Flowers in her hair and a big golden hairpin completed her outfit. It was authentic, so she barely showed any skin at all, but that was completely fine with you, since it made the experience even more real.

And today another princess waited for you on your bed after you stepped out of the shower. Belle as a Pharaoh's daughter, wearing a black wig a golden hairband in form of a snake and golden bracelets on her arms and ankles. Her white silk dress was incredible thin, almost counting as see through. It showed off her body's curves perfectly and you could even see a fake bellybutton piercing through the dress.

Haneul

Haneul wasn't a fan of roleplay, until she wore something more formal once. Not a dress, but a suit. She felt somewhat powerful and strong in it and to her own surprise she made you feel that during sex that night.

She still doesn't roleplay often, but occasionally, you now find yourself face to face with your strict boss who threatens to fire you if you don't eat her out, or your school's principal who threatens to call your parents if you don't show her your cock, or once even your superior officer who tells you to fuck her hard if you don't want to get dishonorably discharged.

You usually enjoy fucking and using Haneul however you want with her being a good girl, but once in a while you do like to be the one who has to do what she says.

"And now the other one."

Right now Haneul roleplays as the hot and successful neighbor, who caught you looking at her through the window. She told you she'd call the police if you didn't do what she said. So now you place her naked foot on the floor, before your reach for the other one, still in one of her heels.

[parrhesiac]

OK, OK, wait ... what if this is a power inherited from her mother?

We know that Anakin was a latent Force-user, whose skills manifested in ways normal to him, and not weird Jedi things.

Why not Padme? Whose very survival relied upon being able to go undetected? Who absolutely had to be able to pull off "I am my own handmaiden," not to mention "pay no attention to this girl over here" even when there wasn't a blatantly obvious makeup-and-costume Queen acting in the room? Padme, who has a tendency to both hide how much she knows and also bluff her way through situations?

Qui-Gon was impressed by the kind of young boy that maybe he tends to look for in a padawan. And he was very "the Force has put us here and put this boy in our path" about it, but also, like, my dude you have a type. Fandom also has this type, of course, to judge by all of the "Han is a secret Force user" headcanons.

Everyone always goes for the shiny ones, but the power of the Force for persuading people to ignore you and let you do what you want has been canon since the very beginning.

And we also have solid headcanon about Jedi training being an elaborate series of brakes controlling the ability, presumably so Jedi aren't, e.g., just casually mentally influencing everyone all the time; they can wield more conscious power this way, but also, they're trained to do it consciously instead of unconsciously.

I'm certain that Leia and Padme, if this is true, aren't wielding anywhere near their full potential as Force users—but also, of course they would go undetected, it's what they're constantly doing in the Force.

ok so. I've been thinking. what if leia's "thing" is that she's imperceptible in the force. like, she's so innately powerful at shielding, she's just not there. Anakin didn't know padme was having twins because he literally couldn't sense leia's presence. yoda and obi-wan were fine with bail taking leia because they couldn't perceive her thoughts, even as an infant. neither reva nor vader could penetrate her mind. she spent years in the senate alongside palpatine and he had no idea she was force sensitive. the only person who can see leia for who she really is is the one who has been there from the beginning — luke.

[minswriting]

can you give me a fic/headcanon/whatever where spencer comes home from a case in another city that took him an eternity to close and he gets home just to find you sleeping. he’s so frustrated all he does is get into bed WITH

his clothes ON barely takes his time to literally take his dick out of his work pants just to fuck you on your side, from behind in a way that both of your legs are against your chest because he just happens to need you and miss you real bad?

im sorry. im very slutty for him and this is how i want to be fucked by him. don’t mind me.

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | somnophilia

i love thinking about desperate and needy spencer. he’d come home so exhausted but so sexually frustrated. before he had left for the case, you guys were in the middle of having sex when hotch had called, telling spencer where was a case. so you guys weren’t able to finish. and spencer was PENT UP as it had been a week since that happened.

and when he comes home and sees you sleeping on the bed, on your side, spencer almost cried in frustration. that was until he noticed that you were naked. so ofc he takes that as an invitation because you guys have already discussed waking each other up with sex. so he drops his things and unzips his pants just enough to free his cock before lying down next to you. he kisses along your spine, moving up towards your neck while guiding his cock to your cunt.

and when you begin stirring, spencer doesn’t hesitate to just insert his cock, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you whine from the intrusion. he’s thrusting into you in a desperate sort of way while you’re whining and moaning, reaching behind you to grab one of spencer’s hands and intertwine your fingers. the pace begins to get frantic as spencer uses your cunt to relieve himself of the pressure built over the past week.

when he’s close, he’s whining hotly into your ear, telling you how much he craved and needed this before burying himself so deeply inside of you and releasing his cum into you with a loud groan.

i love desperate spencer so much

[desperate-gay]

in honor of pernille’s bace in magda’s new boots,

magda & pernille, the living room, & “that’s mine.” & “you’re lucky you look so cozy right now.”

Thief

Pernille Harder x Magda Eriksson x fem!reader

summary: will have to wait and see! (i dont give summaries to these kinds of fics)

a/n: very small bc i am so tired. small early birthday present for my beloved aurora

“Just admit it!” Magda groans, twisting her key to unlock the front door of the shared house.

“I’m not going to admit to anything because it’s not true!” Pernille exclaims, throwing her arms in the air, causing her training bag to hit her side roughly.

“Just say you stole my favorite hoodie, and this can all be over with.”

“You know what? How about you admit to stealing my favorite blanket.”

The bickering continues as they step through the door, completely oblivious to you cozied up on the couch. You watch as the two make their way into the living room, glaring at one another with narrowed eyes.

Their bags are both discarded in the entryway—something you’ll scold them for later—but right now, you’re too caught up in the brewing standoff between your two lovers.

“Älskling, can you tell her to just tell me the tru—”

Magda’s words die in her mouth the moment she finally looks at you, having not spared you a glance since they arrived home from training. Pernille raises an eyebrow, curious about the sudden pause, until her gaze follows Magda’s and lands on you as well.

You sit there with doe eyes, sipping hot chocolate from a mug clutched in both of your hands.

“That’s mine.” Magda states, pointing to the large hoodie draped over your body.

“And that’s mine.” Pernille adds, gesturing toward the small blanket that’s thrown over your legs.

You hum in agreement, smiling softly at the two girls, completely innocent and oblivious to the conflict that was brewing between them.

The two players exchange looks, their jaws slightly slack, having momentarily forgotten about their own argument. They completely discarded the idea of you stealing their things.

“That’s my favorite blanket!”

“That’s my favorite hoodie!”

“Yes they are.” You reply, still smiling at your girlfriends, who to you seem oddly dramatic at the moment.

“We have been looking for those.” Pernille declares in a high-pitched, accusing tone, flopping her arms to her sides with a dramatic slap.

“They smell like you both.” You murmur, shrugging as you snuggle even deeper into the couch, something that from their perspective seems nearly impossible.

Magda and Pernille exchange another glance, their expressions softening for just a moment before Magda clears her throat and crosses her arms, toughening up her stance once more.

“You’re lucky you look so cozy right now.” Pernille huffs, dramatically stomping to the couch and flopping down onto the soft cushions.

“Yeah, because otherwise, we’d be tackling you to get them back.” The Swede adds, still standing with a slight grump.

“You wouldn’t.” You say, peeking your head out from behind the blanket.

“Try us.” Pernille challenges, quietly crawling closer to you.

Your gaze flips rapidly between them, eyes wide at the sudden shift in tone. Slowly, you begin untangling your legs from the mess of blankets, preparing for a quick getaway.

“Maybe we should test our theory. Nille?” Magda turns to look at the girl beside you, silently waiting for a signal to go.

Right as Pernille tries to lunge at you, you jump up with the blanket in your hands and run as quickly as you can. Magda reaches for you, but with a quick bend of your back, you just barely slip out of her grasp.

The two girls immediately chase after you, watching as you sprint through the house, the blanket flowing behind you like a flag in a parade.

“You’ll never catch me alive!”

“We will get our stuff back!”

“Dead or alive!”

[neeeooon]

hey can I please request bllk boys reacting to touch starved reader wanting to touch them but doesn't want to come off as annoying or clingy?

you can do any of the bllk boys but would prefer if you include sae,rin and barou :)

YOU GOT IT BABE ty for the request!! 🤍🫶

when you’re touch starved ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

itoshi sae

-> sae is… complex. he’s hard to read, but you certainly enjoy trying to figure him out

-> one thing you can’t figure out, though, is his take on touch

-> sae isn’t a very touchy person when you’re together. you enjoy each others presence, but there isn’t a need for wandering hands or careless caresses

-> but after he returns from the business trip that stole him from you for two weeks, you’re in desperate need of more than a smile from him

-> you’re able to subtly get him alone, but even then he goes straight upstairs to take a nap. sighing, you begin to beam when you hear him call from the top, “are you coming, y/n?”

-> your feet can’t move faster as you fly up the stairs and into the bed, curling into your boyfriend’s side like your life depended on it. it wasn’t much, but you didn’t want to push

-> but then sae “falls asleep”, and when he does, his arm loops around your waist, hand on your stomach as he pulls you so that your back is flush against his chest

-> he can hear your quiet little giggles and smiles. “why didn’t you just ask, y/n?” “you’re tired, and i didn’t want to be annoying.”

-> “you’re not annoying,” he hums sleepily before placing a kiss on your shoulder blade and finally dozing off

itoshi rin

-> he isn’t a fan of pda, and you’re okay with that. you’d never do anything to make him uncomfortable, but you also don’t want to come off as annoying when you lean into his side or stare longingly at his empty hand

-> you’re hanging out together one day, rin curled on the couch with a book while you’re supposed to be watching tv

-> but you’re not. you’re watching him and the little crease of concentration appear between his brows as his teal eyes skim the page and you’re suddenly itching to be in his arm between his chest and his book

-> you slowly inch closer and closer until your thigh grazes his, but rin doesn’t move. you don’t want to interrupt or annoy him, but you are ten seconds away from hugging yourself

-> “rin?” you whisper. he blinks up at you expectingly, so you ignore the blush on your cheeks and say, “i need cuddles or i’m gonna die.”

-> after a few seconds, he snickers a little at your antics and moves his book to one hand, leaving a gap for you to slip against his chest

-> “am i not giving you enough attention?” “no :(“ “i’m sorry, lovely. i’ll do better.”

barou shouei

-> you’re too embarrassed to ask barou for anything physical when he’s around, since he’s usually busy, and you don’t want him to think you’re annoying

-> however. after your family left for nearly a week, leaving you alone, you were close to tears when barou came over and didn’t immediately hug you

-> “y/n?” “i’m okay!” “are you sure? you’re rubbing your arm very hard..”

-> you stop rubbing your arm and hug your middle instead. “i’m good! all good. um, h-how are you?”

-> he’s not believing that. worried that the loneliness is wearing on you mentally, he steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder. “i’m sorry for not being around recently. i’m here, now—“

-> “oh my god, can you just—“ you pluck his hands from your shoulders and place them on your face, sighing happily and how warm he is

-> barou stares down at you with red cheeks. “oh. you. um. oh.” “i don’t want to come off as clingy, but i will bite you if you aren’t hugging me in ten seconds.” he hugs you in two

karasu tabito

-> karasu is usually very good at keeping a hand on your waist or hips whenever you’re together, but he’s been distracted lately

-> you know he’s busy and stressed, so you don’t want to add to his annoyances with your clinginess

-> thankfully, karasu is not an idiot. “y/n?” he asks when you avoid looking at him for the fourth time in three minutes to pick at your jeans. “hm?”

-> “what are you thinking?” “… it’s embarrassing..” “no, it’s not, dear. i want to know.” “……. can i hold your hand?”

-> and he starts laughing, which makes your face flush bright red. “y/n, i’m your boyfriend. you don’t have to ask to hold my hand.” “but you’re so busy, and i—“

-> he cuts you off by taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “you can hold my hand. do you want a hug as well?” “yes, please.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> you’re hot-natured and usually hate when people touch you, and yukimiya knows this, so he usually keeps a considerate but comfortable distance from you

-> however, you don’t see your boyfriend as “people”. you appreciate his consideration, but you feel like you’ll die if you go another day without physical contact

-> “yuki?” “yes, honey?” “um.. never mind,” you turn away, feeling clingy when he turned away from the paper in his hands to look at you

-> yukimiya furrows his brows and stands to gently catch your hand. he lets you go, remembering (incorrectly) that you don’t like his touch, and you cannot stand it anymore

-> “are you oka—“ “don’t laugh. please hold my hand again.”

-> he’d never laugh at you, but he does smile a bit. “oh? but i thought—“ “kenyu, i have not been touched by another human being in days. please hold my hand and hug me or i might go clinically insane.” “yes ma’am/sir.”