#when she asked me if i thought she was a bad person she answered her own question going 'i dont think so.

[scoupsakakitty]

Hii new here and love your work already!

May I request Something about Junhui

Y/n being sick during her pregnancy (if you are comfortable) and Junhui brings her with them while they filmed “In the Soop” to keep an eye on her and unknowingly their relationship gets exposed once the episode air and she cries real bad and the group help him calm her down!

Unexpected Reveal | idol!Jun x Reader | angst, fluff

Filming In the Soop was supposed to be a peaceful getaway. A chance for the members to relax, reset, and spend quality time together away from the usual chaos of idol life.

But for Junhui, this trip had an entirely different purpose.

"You sure you’re okay with this, baobei?" (A/N: For everyone who don't know what baobei means, it means something like Darling) Jun asked softly, kneeling beside the couch where Y/N lay, bundled in a thick blanket. His hand brushed against her forehead, checking for any lingering fever. "We can still go back if it’s too much for you."

She shook her head, offering him a weak smile. "I’d rather be here with you than alone at home."

Y/N was in the early stages of her pregnancy, and it had been far from easy. Morning sickness hit her hard, exhaustion came in waves, and her body ached in ways she hadn’t expected. Jun had barely let her out of his sight, and when filming In the Soop came up, he insisted on bringing her along—secretly, of course.

The members had been incredibly supportive. Seungcheol and Jeonghan helped distract the cameras, Woozi pretended not to see Jun sneaking into Y/N’s room every night, and the younger ones took turns delivering food to her cabin so she wouldn’t have to move much.

It worked.

Or at least, they thought it did.

When the episode aired weeks later, the internet exploded.

Clips of Jun carefully adjusting a pillow in an empty room. A faint silhouette in the background of his personal vlog. The way he seemed distracted, always checking his phone.

And then, the biggest mistake of all—one of the GoPro cameras accidentally left on inside the cabin.

It wasn’t much, just a short clip of Junhui entering with a warm bowl of soup and a soft, “Baobei, you need to eat.” But it was enough.

The comments flooded in.

*Who’s in Jun’s room??? *Did he just say ‘baobei’?????? *Wait, is this why he kept disappearing during the show?! *Jun’s married?! JUN HAS A WHOLE WIFE????

The speculation spiraled out of control. Some fans celebrated, some felt betrayed, and some simply refused to believe it.

But the damage was done.

Y/N sat curled on their couch, knees pulled to her chest, as she scrolled through the endless posts. The anxiety swelled in her chest until it was unbearable, and before she could stop herself, she burst into tears.

"Y/N, hey—" Jun rushed to her side, alarmed. "Baobei, don’t cry. Please don’t cry."

“I ruined everything,” she sobbed, voice shaky. “Everyone’s talking about you. About us. What if—what if it affects your career? What if people hate you because of me?”

Jun’s heart clenched.

He gathered her into his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she cried into his chest. “Shh, that’s not true. You didn’t ruin anything, okay? If anything, this was my fault—I should’ve been more careful.”

The door suddenly burst open, and in came Seungcheol, followed closely by Jeonghan and Minghao.

“Is she okay?” Jeonghan asked, concern etched in his features.

“No,” Jun answered honestly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Seungcheol crouched down in front of them, resting a gentle hand on Y/N’s knee. “Hey, don’t read the comments, okay? People will always have things to say, but they don’t know you. They don’t know how much Jun loves you, how much he’s willing to fight for you.”

Minghao sat beside her, his voice soft. “You’re not alone in this. We’re family. We’ll handle this together.”

Y/N sniffled, looking up at them. “But… what if they—”

“They won’t.” Jun cut her off firmly. “Even if they do, I don’t care. You and our baby matter more to me than any of this.”

She let out a small, choked laugh. “That was really cheesy.”

Jeonghan smirked. “He’s been watching too many dramas again.”

Laughter rippled through the room, lightening the heavy atmosphere.

Jun wiped her tears, cradling her face in his hands. “We’ll be okay, baobei. I promise.”

And looking at the warmth surrounding her, the love in Jun’s eyes, and the unwavering support of their family, Y/N finally let herself believe it.

[fangdokja]

Not really a request, but just a thought to share with you! (If that’s alright?)

Imagine Yandere! Demon King having to resort to “granting” his darling immortality, having realized that her lifespan was impeccably fleeting compared to his and demonkind. And seeing how unruly, ferocious, and self-reliant she was throughout their entire time together (or more like her captivity), he went through the trouble of binding her to him in body and soul by turning her into a succubus.

With this, she would be forced to rely on him during “feeding hours”, leaving her utterly helpless as she refuses to “feed” on other people.

Not only would this bring her closer to him, but also the fact that she’s under his dominion now as a demoness.

— Random Anon

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling and formatting. Includes Library Recommendations (nsfw + sfw).

If you guys want Reader lore? (low-key surprised people asking for Reader lore in some series) Well... I already have it all prepared. It's coming next week. Not all of Reader lore yet, but enough to tell you that Reader is not as helpless against even the Yandere! Love Interests, as one might believe:

We have four new characters coming up. And these guys are part of the top tier powerhouses, even compared to Yandere! Demon King. Most likely stronger actually. Actually maybe the strongest four man lineup in the entire series. And personally, I like these guys best. Though, unsure if I'll give them more screentime than one chapter. There's reason for that, but we'll see.

I also have four more new characters alongside these guys, but I haven't finished writing for them as of the moment.

WHY IS THIS SERIES SO POPULAR. adnljdsddsgawfuishas. Is it really 'cause it's otome isekai???? or something else hahaha. I was literally just writing about myself 😭 I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS INTO AN ACTUAL SERIES.

OK, now onto the ASK + Library Recommendations (sfw + nsfw).

Nice to meet you, Random Anon :)) I'm glad you're comfortable enough to speak with me about your thoughts. Don't worry, it's fine. I'm glad you're willing and open to share ideas or thought dumps.

Also, out of topic, but I like how you guys are picking "names" and not just emojis haha. Actually, for me, I prefer you guys picking actual names of your choosing. I don't want to constrain the name picking, so feel free to name yourselves anything, when asking anonymously. It'll also help me identify you better. Just make sure it aligns with the blog RULES and Tumblr guidelines.

Ok, this is a thought. But, even in dark humor content and especially in world building. Logic and reality is a must here. I heavily dislike making non-canon lore, it's basically me writing fanfiction on my own work. I can do it, but I heavily prefer canon works only. It's also in my RULES. I will always prefer transparency and honesty, so I will be honest in my answer here. I am aware what you gave is a thought dump and an imagine-scenario, so not necessarily canon. Just sharing thoughts. But, I will expand on the reality of who Reader is.

Reader doesn't just have basic intelligence, nor a dead inside personality when it comes to romance. Canonically speaking, Reader can in fact take on the love interests. So, why does Reader rely on wit, the romance system, and no-powers-mode?

Well, that will come in the next extension of the series. Yes, I'm officially making these into a Headcanons Series. This one:

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

Why am I saying this? Because based on the timeline of the current story with Reader officially escaping and in hiding. It's practically an impossibility for any of the Yandere! Love Interests to try capturing and doing whatever they want with Reader. Yes, impossible.

And even if there was a slim chance of capture even before the escape. Let me tell you know.

No. It's impossible.

Why am I so sure? Well, you'll know why once the new characters come out.

In actuality, all my Reader characters have lore. I just don't give it away so freely, compared to yandere lore. Why? Well, I focus mostly on yandere content for one. The other is because all my Readers are meant to have enigmatic backgrounds. No, I did not just make this because I want you all to feel more in-depth self-insert or something.

The Reader characters have actual lore in fact, all of the characters I make do. I just don't say it outright, because spoilers obviously.

I wouldn't be a psychological horror-thriller author, if I gave things away so easily. I decided to give some crumbs because of the effort Random Anon put into this message. I want you to know, Random Anon, that I appreciate you having the courage to do this, being comfortable with me, and giving me a message of substance. So, thank you.

And, it's why I'm taking this seriously, even if it may disagree with yours or others' thoughts. These crumbs are canon information on the series and characters.

Ok, I rambled a lot. But, to clarify the following:

It's impossible for Yandere! Demon King to turn Reader into a demoness. Considering it's still very early into the series, and unlike my novellas, this is still a lighthearted dark humor series. As of the moment, there will be no permanent and explicit horror factors yet. Why? Characters are still being introduced. Did you really think I'd stop at eight? haha.

Anyways. Yes, later on, it can be changed. But not now.

The Veteran Readers and those who have read my novellas, should know how I write. Take a dip and see how I actually write my horror content. Like this one, newly uploaded as well. It's not even novella length, it's also a headcanons series, if that's what you're used to:

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

I recommend reading Part 2, if you want to see how I write my actual horror content.

Anyways. I'm saying this now. If you honestly think I'll write vanilla yandere content, then I'm sorry, I don't. What I mean is that ALL the Yandere! Love Interests are still part of my yandere collection. Hence, they'll do way more than just controlled feeding and monitoring lifestyles. Especially the demon race, for example.

Or, rather, the stronger they are, the more dangerous they become.

These are the kind of yanderes I generally write: Dom + Top + Older + Sadistic + Red / Black Flag Yanderes

Nor do I hold back in writing horror content.

What you gave is basically the barebones part of yandere content. Trust me when I say, Yandere! Demon King is going to do a lot worse than just isolate and force feed you. In fact, I would even say, he would NOT turn Reader into a demoness. Why? Well, let's just say, he's not as kind and collected as he seems. And I'm not talking about him simply being an emotional mess.

Would Yandere! Demon King grant Reader immortality. No, he wouldn't. Not only is it illogical for him in his eyes, but he has better plans than simply turning Reader into a doll or servant.

Not to mention, yeah, I mentioned Yandere! Demon King can be emotionally unstable. But, I don't mean in simply losing his cool and patience; thus losing his sense of rationality, then acting reckless and stupid. Or losing himself in rage and emotional turmoil. It's something better.

Also, for non-human races. Here, to give you New Readers an idea on how I write them. Read the Sukuna part if you want to know:

Novella 1 : Dominate Me, Daddy. (Brat Tamer)

🔞Will you scream? Or will you beg? (Bakugo Katsuki, Yoichi Isagi, Ryōmen Sukuna, Rex Lapis, Sunday)

I know some of you New Readers came here for dark humor, and lighthearted comedy. But. Let me tell you now, once I write actual "true yandere" content. Well, it's not for the faint of heart.

I only made the dark humor content because I was mindblocked on horror content. It's basically idea generation to me, so I can exercise my brain for erotic horror.

The true yanderes I make are hard doms + top + older + unapologetic + sadistic + does not need darling's validation + will hurt the darling + may kill the darling + truly confident in themselves.

They do not care nor need the darling's permission, validation, feelings, etc. to take what they want. They're not weaklings like that. As individuals, they are strong in their own right. Including mentality.

Yes, this also includes the yanderes in the drabbles.

Do you want to know the ONLY yanderes that won't physically hurt you? It's these guys:

Yandere! Royal Guards

Drabbles

Royal Duties: looking pretty, sitting still, watching your guards destroy the kingdom.

You got isekai’d. Now three murder machines think your blank stares are divine wisdom.

And, that's because they're engineered to protect you, not harm you. These yanderes are the only canon yanderes that will never hurt you physically. They're the ones who will protect you with their lives. Aside from them? Nothing. No one. Every single yandere in my library will hurt and may kill you. Yes. Even if they may not seem like it, even if it's dark humor content, even if they look ridiculous and dramatic.

And you know the good thing about being a psychological horror-thriller author?

No one can tell what happens next.

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[chippedshake]

My gift for @an-akward-ace as part of the gift exchange :))

@outsiders-gift-exchanges

“Mama?” Darry asks as he creeps out of the hallway and into the living room. Mama’s on the couch, feet tucked underneath her, book in her hands. She looks up and worry crawls onto her face. 

“Darry? What’s wrong?”

He walks up to the couch tentatively and sits down next to her. “Am I a bad person?”

“What?” Mama closes her book and puts it on the couch armrest. “Why would you think that?”

“Sometimes— sometimes I think I don’t…” He looks at her guiltily for a moment before looking away. “Sometimes I think Ponyboy doesn’t love me.”

“Honey,” Mama murmurs, putting her hand on Darry’s shoulder, “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t—” Darry looks down again. “I don’t know. When I told him to go away because I wanted to play with Mark and Andrew he started crying and wouldn’t talk to me for a week. An’ he gets way more mad at me than at Soda but I’m a lot less annoying than Soda.”

Mama runs her hand through Darry’s hair and he curls up against her, just young enough to not be embarrassed. “Oh, Darry, that don’t mean he don’t love you. It just means he gets cranky sometimes. Maybe y’all mess up sometimes, but that don’t mean nothin’. Everyone does.” 

She pauses for a moment. 

“You ever notice that sometimes we’re all real quiet at dinner and Pa an’ me won’t look at each other?” Darry nods slowly. “Love ain’t perfect, and it ain’t about wantin’ to be with someone all the time, or never gettin’ mad. Only place you’ll see that is in the movies.”

Darry nods again, but doesn’t answer. 

“Say— weren’t you reading Ponyboy a story before he went to sleep?”

Darry looks up at her and nods. “We’ve read it a bunch before but he never wants ta read anything else.”

“Does anyone else ever read it to him?”

“The story?” Mama nods. “No. Says he only likes how I read it. But it’s just ‘cause I do more voices than you.”

“How ‘bout walking home from school? Pa could go pick him up in the car, wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Yeah…” Darry’s not quite sure where this is going. “But that way he knows what the city’s like and doesn’t get lost when he’s older and stuff.”

“Right. What about how Ponyboy asked for a football for his birthday even though he’d been talking about that colouring book for months? What about how he won’t go to sleep without a ‘Darry hug’ because he says it’s better than other hugs?”

Darry doesn’t know what to say so he looks down at his hands. 

“Love ain’t perfect, honey. You don’t always wanna be with someone and sometimes you’re gonna get mad and, Dar,—” He looks up at her “ — that’s fine. Love’s in the little things that add up, and yeah, sometimes something’s gonna subtract some, but that don’t take away from all of what you’ve built.” 

…

Darry steps into the house with a loud sigh. 

No one’s around to hear it. 

He can’t be bothered to take his boots off, no matter how much he dreads having to clean the house afterwards, because it’s just grabbing the grocery list and taking off again. 

Just grabbing the gro— oh, shit. Where is it? 

A groan starts poking its way out of Darry’s chest. 

Why him? Why now? Why at the end of the work day, when the only thing keeping him standing is the thought of a bath once he gets back? 

He looks around the same place again, hoping the bright yellow sticky note somehow flew under his radar. 

It didn’t. 

In a couple cabinets, on the floor, inside drawers— by the time Darry’s looked through the whole kitchen, he’s shuffled around so much the floor’s covered with dirt. Because his shoes are still on. Because it was supposed to be quick. Because the list was supposed to be right there and it’s actually a tiny thing and he can probably remember everything anyways but the list needed to be there and he doesn’t have the stupid list and he just want to sleep but he need to make dinner and where the fuck is that list—

“Oh, hey, Darry!” Soda walks in and holds the door for Steve, who comes in behind him. Both their arms are full of groceries. 

Everything that was on the list. 

“Thought we’d get ahead on groceries since your shift’s longer’n normal today.”

Steve doesn’t add anything, but grunts in Darry’s general direction, so he gathers it’s a form of greeting.

“Oh,” Darry says, trying to keep his voice calm and hide the fact that he was about to break down because of something as stupid as not finding a sticky note. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Steve says, setting his bag down at the kitchen table. “Old man kicked me out again last week. S’on him.”

…

“Hey, Darry?” Darry stops and turns around from where he was heading towards the kitchen. 

“Yeah, Pone?” 

“Can you stand there for a second and put your hands behind your back?”

Darry stares at him, confused, before doing as he asks. 

“And tilt your head a bit to the right— wait, no, my right, your left.”

A couple moments go by. Ponyboy’s scribbling something in his notebook, looking up at Darry and back down quickly.  

“Can I move now?”

“Just one more second…” He erases something, draws it again, and holds his notebook up next to Darry. “Okay, thanks.”

Darry heads towards him. “Can I see it?”

Ponyboy covers his notebook hurriedly. “When it’s finished.”

“Okay, okay.” Darry holds his hands up in mock innocence.

…

Darry tries not to worry too much about Ponyboy. Their parents were never very controlling, and generally any of them could leave for hours without facing too much questioning. 

He tries not to, but the problem is that Ponyboy never thinks, no matter how much Darry tries to get him to. He’d mouth off to a Soc because he just didn’t notice they had a knife, or walk home all alone at night without realising he was holding a neon sign that said “jump me”. Honestly, even being run over because he didn’t bother to look both ways is an option at this point. 

“We didn’t get into any trouble,” Johnny says. Darry blinks at him. Pony and Johnny have just come back from the drive-in — they went alone this week — and Ponyboy’s gone to his room to get something to show Johnny, who’s wandered into the kitchen to talk to Darry. 

The last time the two of them talked alone must be at least a year ago. 

“Weren’t even any Socs nearby. All in their cars.”

And without another word, Johnny walks out of the kitchen as Ponyboy comes storming back into the living room.

…

“Kicked out again?”

“Got mad at me for bein’ away too much and decided to kick me out.”

“Huh.”

“I saw y’all didn't have any tomatoes so I picked some up on the way. Got a discount, too.”

“Yeah?”

Steve wiggles his fingers. “Five finger discount.”

…

Darrel Shaynne Curtis is defying all the laws of physics and biology because he is utterly dead inside and yet somehow still walking. If he has to take another step his joints will fall apart like rusty gears on an old clock. 

And for some reason his house has to be full of fucking people. 

People he loves, but people nonetheless. 

Annoying people. Loud people. People who apparently do not know the definition of shutting the fuck up. 

No amount of affection for the gang can stop Darry from crossing the line into homicidal if one more person screams across the room for something completely unnecessary. 

“Hey, Superman.” Dally says with a light smirk as he sinks into the couch next to Darry. 

Darry looks up and nods. 

“How ya doin’?” Now here’s the part where Darry’s supposed to say “meh” or “as good as I can be, I guess” or something along those lines. Or he should at least shrug. 

All of that requires energy, though, energy that Darry does not have, so he just hums. 

“Yeah, I get that.” 

Dally stays next to him, quiet and thoughtful for a moment. 

“Hey, y’all wanna go to the drag races?” 

Dally’s question is met with a chorus of whoops that make Darry’s head throb, and in a matter of minutes, the whole gang’s out the door.  

Dallas walks out the door, then strays back in just before the door closes. He turns the lights off and Darry sighs in relief, the pressure finally gone from his eyes. 

He stops again just before stepping out the door and turns back towards Darry.  

“There’s still some cake left in the freezer, I saved ya a couple slices of bread, and Two-Bit left a bit of peanut butter in the jar.”

Darry musters a soft “thanks”, and Dally nods. 

The door closes with a soft click.

…

“Darry!” Darry raises his eyebrows. He’s just closed the door behind him, work boots still on, and Ponyboy’s running towards him with a grin on his face. 

“Why’re you so happy to see me?”

“I finished it!” Darry blinks at him once. Twice.

“What’d you finish?”

“The drawing!”

Ponyboy holds out his notebook, and right there, in the middle of the page, is Darry. He’s made the kitchen doorway vaguely in the background, but it’s in black and white while Darry is in colour. 

And it’s— well, it’s impressive to say the least. Darry knew that Ponyboy liked to draw — always had his notebook out when he got bored of talking to people, sketching something he wouldn’t let anyone see —, but he didn’t know he could draw well. He always assumed it was like when he used to draw as a kid, only he didn’t want to show them anymore.

“This is…” Darry can’t seem to finish the sentence. He looks up and meets Pony’s eyes. “You made it?” Ponyboy nods, excited. “I— Can you show me whenever you draw stuff? In the future?”

Ponyboy’s eyes seem to almost glow. “Yeah, sure.” 

…

“Ponyboy’s gonna tell you he fell down the stairs today, but Justin Lawson pushed him.” Johnny hesitates for a second. “Second one in the phone book, the first one’s a priest.”

“Right. Thanks.” 

…

“How’d ya know I wanted to be alone?”

Dallas cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t the first.”

…

“Hey, Superman,” Two-Bit says with a grin as he pointedly closes the door behind him. 

“Hey, Two.” The smile that comes with the greeting is second nature, but Darry’s not entirely sure whether that’s from genuine happiness or getting used to pretending he’s okay. 

“How’s it goin’?” He pulls out a chair and sits down in it backwards, arms resting on the backrest. 

Darry sighs with a sarcastic smile, gesturing at the pile of bills in front of him. 

“It that time again?”

“Was that time last week.”

Two-Bit whistles low. “You got enough?”

“Hope so.”

“Well, if you ain’t… I don’t got money I can give you. Sure someone’s got some, though.” He starts looking around, as if he would find someone to jump for money inside the Curtises' house.

“It’s fine, Two. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe Darry’s smile is wearing a bit thin or the exhaustion is clear on his face, because Two-Bit drops it. 

“Alright.” He looks down, dejected, before lighting up again and looking at Darry, all excited again. “Guess what I found at the store today?”

Darry just raises his eyebrows — a form of rebellion, at this point, considering how the whole gang’s started copying Two-Bit and raising just the one — and tilts his head. 

Two-Bit pulls a plastic bag out from behind his chair — how it got there, don’t ask Darry — and grins at Darry. “Lookit what I got.”

It’s a bag of Lay’s, something Darry and Two-Bit had worked together to swipe dozens of times to fuel Darry’s unhealthy obsession, only —

“They make ‘em in barbecue now. Figured we might as well try ‘em out.”

“Yeah?” Darry grins, and this time it’s genuine. 

Before he can get another word out, Two-Bit’s fist comes flying down onto the bag and makes a sound so loud that if he weren’t watching it happen, Darry’d think a gun had fired.  

At least five chips have gone flying, slamming against the wall, and Darry just knows it’s going to be an absolute pain to clean up. 

Then he makes eye contact with Two-Bit and they burst into uncontrollable, stupid laughter. It’s only once they sober up after a couple minutes that Darry realises just how long it’s been since he’s laughed like that. 

…

“What’re you drawing?”

Ponyboy moves aside to show him it. 

“Oh.”

“Don’t wanna forget him.”

…

“I was talkin’ ta Susie the other day an’ she told me there’s this girl in her class that’ll draw ya stuff if ya pay her, and she cost me extra ‘cause she was scared of her mama findin’ out, but tell me this ain’t worth every penny!”

…

“I hate you!” Ponyboy screams as he storms off into his room. Darry just stares after him, frozen in place.

He doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it he doesn’t mean it—

But what if he does?

Love’s in the little things, the little things that add up—

But this feels too big, it’s too much to be just a little setback. Because the little things add up but they also subtract and if you put enough of them together—

There’s a soft knock on the door. Darry sits up from where he’d been in starfish position.

“Yeah?”

The door slowly creaks open. A small figure stands behind it.

“Darry?” Ponyboy stands in the doorway, grabbing onto the frame and avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” 

Darry crosses his legs and sits up straighter, fully waking up. “Yeah, sure, baby.”

Ponyboy walks in and sits on the edge of Darry’s bed, looking down at the sheets instead of at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, tugging at the ends of his hair. It’s getting too long, but he refuses to cut the bleach out of it and Darry doesn’t have it in him to force him to. 

“It’s fine,” Darry says on instinct.

“No, it— it really ain’t. We’re not supposed to fight anymore. We’re not supposed to holler at each other and go to sleep mad. But we do it anyway, and it’s like nothing’s changed since—” He can’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t really need to. 

“Ponyboy…” Darry trails off. What is there to say? Mama would know what to do, she would know what to say so Ponyboy knew that there was a part of Darry’s soul intrinsically tied to his, following him around no matter how far he wandered. 

But Darry doesn’t know how to talk; he hardly knows how to feel. 

Ponyboy looks away from him and stays quiet for a couple moments, playing with the loose strings on Darry’s sheets. 

“Darry?” He looks up.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Darry frowns. “‘Course.”

“And you promise you won’t be mad?” 

“Yeah.”

Ponyboy looks up to catch sight of Darry before his eyes dart away again. 

“Sometimes I— Sometimes I’m scared you don’t love me.” He lets the sentence hang for a couple seconds, lets it fester in the air and seep through Darry’s skin. “I ain’t sayin’ you don’t wanna keep me or that ya don’t care, but I just— I don’t know. Are ya doin’ it all ‘cause you think you should?”

He looks up again — furtive, small, scared — and looks back down at the sheets.  

“God, Pony,” Darry says softly, “‘Course I love ya. Just ‘cause we fight don’t mean nothing.” Ponyboy still won’t meet his eyes. With every second that goes by, the crack in Darry’s heart grows a bit wider. “C’mere.” He pats the spot beside him. 

Ponyboy looks up in surprise. He gets up tentatively and walks over to the other side of the bed, where Darry’s sitting. The moment he’s sat down, Darry wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls Ponyboy towards him. Ponyboy tenses, and for a moment Darry’s sure he’s made a mistake, that this wasn’t what he needed, before he slowly relaxes, his face burrows into Darry’s shoulder — Jesus he’s tall now, he used to barely reach his chest — and he hugs Darry back like he needs it for the first time in… far too long. 

“Love ain’t always pretty, Pony,” Darry whispers into his hair, “It ain’t always perfect and happy and nice, but it’s there. S’why there’s always Pepsi in the fridge and why I always ask where you’re goin’ when you start runnin’ out the door and why Soda and me listen to you talk about your books.” Ponyboy laughs softly, muffled by Darry’s shoulder, and Darry smiles — proud, fond, relieved. “Love ain’t in some big moment, it’s in the little things, so sometimes it can be easy to miss. But it’s there, I promise.” Darry forces himself to pull Ponyboy away from him and take him by the shoulders so they can meet eyes. “It’ll always be there, alright?”

Did I get it right, Mama?

[hisfavegirl]

Endless Battle Of Love - Modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x Female.

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6.

Word Count : 5.4k

Jacaerys Velaryon Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The office smelled like lavender and old books, a mixture that had become strangely familiar over the past month. The soft ticking of a clock on the wall was the only thing filling the silence as you sat on the couch, knees pulled close to your chest. Jace sat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your thigh, his thumb drawing soothing circles over the fabric of your jeans.

"How have you been sleeping?" your therapist, Dr. Elara, asked gently, her pen poised over her notepad.

You hesitated.

Jace’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly in encouragement.

"Better," you said finally. "The nightmares aren’t as bad anymore. Some nights, I sleep all the way through."

Dr. Elara nodded, offering you a small smile. "That’s progress. And the panic attacks?"

Jace answered for you before you could. "Less frequent," he said, his voice firm. "But they still happen."

You glanced at him, watching as his jaw tensed, his other hand curled into a fist on his lap. Even after all this time, he still carried the weight of what had happened to you. He had seen the worst of you—the screaming, the shaking, the nights when you woke up clawing at your own skin as if you could rid yourself of the ghosts Cregan had left behind.

But he never left.

"Would you like to talk about them?" Dr. Elara asked.

You swallowed hard.

"It’s always the same," you murmured. "I dream about being in that jet again. About being trapped."

You closed your eyes, and for a moment, you were there again. The dim lights. The suffocating silence. The weight of Cregan’s hands on you.

Jace must have sensed your distress because he immediately shifted closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth.

"You’re not there anymore," he whispered. "You’re safe. I’m here."

Safe.

You clung to that word.

Dr. Elara tapped her pen lightly against the notepad. "Have you been using the grounding techniques we discussed?"

You nodded. "The breathing exercises help. And…" You glanced at Jace. "So does having him with me."

Jace looked down at you, something unreadable in his expression. He had given up so much for you—his company, his peaceful life—stepping into the darkness without hesitation just to protect you.

Dr. Elara sighed softly. "That’s good. But you need to be careful. Depending too much on one person for stability can be dangerous. You need to find strength in yourself, too."

"She is strong," Jace said immediately, his voice quiet but firm. "Stronger than she thinks."

You turned to him, startled.

Dr. Elara smiled knowingly. "And do you believe that?" she asked you.

Did you?

For months, you had felt like a victim. Like a shattered version of the person you used to be. But now… you weren’t so sure.

You had survived.

You had fought back.

You had walked into the darkness—and come out the other side. You inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

"I think I’m learning to."

The sun streamed through the windows of the therapist’s office, casting golden rays onto the wooden floors. You shifted slightly on the couch, feeling the warmth seep into your skin, but it did nothing to ease the unease creeping through your chest.

"You’re making progress," Dr. Elara said, her voice calm and reassuring. "You’ve been able to get into cars without panicking. That’s a big step."

You nodded, biting your lip. "I know, but… the plane was different."

Jace’s hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Tell me about it," Dr. Elara encouraged.

You took a slow breath, trying to steady your thoughts before speaking. "Jace’s family planned a trip last week. I—I wanted to go. I didn’t want to be left behind."

You swallowed hard, recalling the way your hands had started trembling the second you stepped into the airport.

"She started shaking before we even got to security," Jace murmured, his grip on your hand tightening. "And when we got to the gate…" He trailed off, jaw clenching.

You glanced at him, watching the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles. He still carried every moment of your pain like it was his own.

"I froze," you admitted softly. "I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was back there again."

The memory came rushing back—your heart pounding against your ribs, the feeling of walls closing in, the sheer terror that gripped you as you stared at the cabin door of the private jet.

"I told her we didn’t have to go," Jace said, voice edged with frustration—though not at you, never at you. "But she wanted to try."

Dr. Elara nodded. "So what happened?"

You exhaled shakily. "I couldn’t do it. I wanted to, but my body just—just shut down. I started crying and—"

"And she almost passed out," Jace finished, his voice tight.

You flinched at the reminder, your free hand curling into a fist against your lap.

"So we had to sedate her," Jace muttered bitterly. "She slept through the entire flight."

Dr. Elara regarded you carefully. "How did that make you feel?"

You swallowed, looking down.

"Weak."

"You’re not weak," Jace said immediately, his voice a low growl. "You went through hell, and you’re still standing. That doesn’t make you weak."

Your throat tightened.

"It felt like I was back there," you whispered. "Like the moment I stepped into that plane, I wasn’t safe anymore."

Dr. Elara leaned forward slightly. "That’s a trauma response," she explained gently. "Your brain associates the plane with danger because of what happened. It’s not something you can just ‘get over.’ It takes time."

Jace exhaled through his nose, clearly struggling to keep his frustration in check. "How do we fix it?"

Dr. Elara smiled slightly. "We don’t ‘fix’ it. We work through it. Gradually." She turned to you. "Would you be willing to try exposure therapy?"

Your stomach twisted at the thought.

"It doesn’t have to be all at once," Dr. Elara assured you. "Maybe just stepping onto an empty plane while it’s still grounded. Sitting in a cabin for a few minutes. Small steps."

You hesitated.

Jace’s thumb stroked over your knuckles again. "You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for," he murmured.

You bit your lip, glancing between him and Dr. Elara.

"I… I want to try."

Jace tensed beside you, but he didn’t argue.

Dr. Elara smiled. "That’s a good first step."

And deep down, you knew she was right. You couldn’t keep running from this forever. If you wanted to take back your life—to stop feeling like a prisoner in your own mind—you had to start somewhere.

Even if it scared you.

The ride home was silent, the weight of the session still lingering between you. Jace's fingers traced slow, comforting patterns over your knuckles, but neither of you spoke.

Your mind was spinning. Next session. That was when you’d have to face it. The thought alone made your stomach twist, but you had agreed. You wanted to try. You needed to try.

Jace glanced at you again, his grip tightening around your hand for a brief moment before loosening. "Are you okay?" he finally asked, his voice soft.

You hesitated, staring out the window at the passing city lights. "I don’t know," you admitted.

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t push. Jace had learned not to pressure you—not after everything. Instead, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "We’ll take it slow," he murmured. "You don’t have to do this alone."

You turned to look at him then, meeting his gaze. The concern in his eyes, the quiet determination—it made your chest ache. "I know."

The car pulled up to his mansion, and Jace stepped out first, walking around to open your door. His hand was already reaching for you before you had even moved. You took it, letting him help you out, his warmth grounding you as he pulled you closer.

Inside, the atmosphere was just as quiet. Jace set down his keys and immediately turned to you, hands finding your waist. "Come here."

You let him guide you toward the couch, where he sat down and pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his head resting against yours.

"I hate seeing you like this," he murmured after a while.

You sighed, curling into him. "I’ll get better."

"I know," he said, but there was something else in his tone. Something unspoken.

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "What?"

Jace hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "I just—" His grip on you tightened. "I wish I could make it all go away."

Your heart clenched. You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. "You being here helps."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "I’ll always be here."

You nodded, believing him. Jace had never once left your side. For now, that was enough.

Jace stiffened at first, caught off guard by the way you leaned in. Your lips brushed against his—gentle, testing—and for a moment, he didn't move.

You felt his hesitation, the way his hands stilled on your back. Jace had always been careful with you, sometimes too careful. He never wanted to push, never wanted to risk hurting you. But this time, you were the one reaching for him.

So you kissed him again, a little firmer.

A quiet sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a groan, and then he was kissing you back. Slowly, deliberately, his hands sliding up your spine as if mapping every inch of you. His lips moved with restrained hunger, as if he was still holding himself back.

But you didn’t want restraint. Not tonight.

You deepened the kiss, shifting in his lap so that your arms wrapped around his neck. He pulled you closer instinctively, one hand pressing against your lower back, the other coming up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch unbearably soft.

When you finally broke apart for air, Jace rested his forehead against yours, his breath uneven.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt. "Jace… I want this. I want you."

His grip on you tightened for a fraction of a second before he exhaled sharply. "I don’t want to hurt you," he admitted, his brows furrowing. "I don’t want you to feel like you have to—"

"I know." You cut him off gently, brushing your fingers against his jaw. "But I’m not afraid right now. With you, I’m safe."

Jace swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. Whatever he saw there seemed to undo him.

"God, I love you," he murmured, and then he was kissing you again, deeper this time. Less hesitant, more sure. His hands roamed your back, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were reclaiming a part of yourself—one kiss at a time.

You felt Jace’s arms tighten around you as Aegon’s amused voice filled the room.

“Well, well, well… don’t stop on my account.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you turned away, but Jace only exhaled sharply, his grip on you firm. “Get out, Aegon.”

Aegon merely laughed, strolling into the room with that insufferable grin on his face. “Relax, lover boy. I’m just here for my laptop. Unless…” He smirked, looking at you. “You two need some pointers?”

Jace growled low in his throat, his jaw ticking. “Aegon.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender, but his smirk didn’t waver. He grabbed his laptop from the desk, but before he left, he paused at the door, casting one last glance at the two of you.

“You know,” he drawled, “it’s about time. Poor Jace has been suffering for months.”

Jace didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed a pillow and threw it straight at Aegon’s head.

Aegon ducked, laughing as he stepped out of the room. “Just saying!” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t be too loud. The walls are thin.”

The door shut behind him, leaving the room in silence.

You could feel Jace’s frustration radiating off him, his hold on you still possessive. When you looked up, his face was buried in your shoulder, his breaths slow and controlled.

“You’re tense,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair.

“Because he’s an ass.” Jace huffed against your skin.

You giggled, the sound soft. “He’s not wrong, though.”

Jace lifted his head to look at you, his expression softening. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, your fingers tracing slow circles on his shoulder. “More than okay.”

His lips quirked up slightly before he leaned down, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I’m not letting Aegon ruin this moment.”

You smiled as he pulled you closer again, pressing another lingering kiss to your lips—one that Aegon, thankfully, wasn’t there to interrupt.

Jace pulled away first, and you let out a small noise of protest, making him chuckle.

“Patience, love,” he murmured, his fingers tracing your jaw before cupping your cheek.

You pouted. “You started it.”

His grin widened as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I plan to finish it—later.”

Before you could complain again, he took your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “But first, I’m taking you out tonight. Dinner. Just the two of us.”

You blinked in surprise. “Dinner?”

“Yes. A proper one.” Jace’s thumb brushed over your knuckles. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

You smiled, your heart warming at the idea. “Okay.”

He smirked. “Good. But first, I’m taking you to a salon.”

You raised a brow. “A salon?”

“Yes.” Jace tilted his head slightly. “I want you to relax and feel good. I’ve already made an appointment.”

You laughed softly. “You planned all of this?”

“Of course.” His fingers toyed with a strand of your hair. “You deserve to be pampered.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You’re spoiling me.”

“And?” He grinned. “Isn’t that my job?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your smile. “Fine. I’ll get ready.”

Jace’s smirk grew. “Good girl.”

Your cheeks burned, but before you could say anything, he was already guiding you toward the closet. “Now, go. I want you looking like the most beautiful woman in the city tonight.”

“I already am,” you teased.

Jace hummed, his eyes darkening slightly as he pulled you close once more. “That you are.”

Then, with one last kiss, he let you go. “Now hurry up. The salon is waiting.”

You chose a simple dress, something elegant yet understated—just the way you liked it. Even though you now lived with Jace and his family, you had never been the type to indulge in excessive luxury.

As you descended the stairs, you felt Jace’s gaze lock onto you. He had been leaning casually against the railing, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up, he froze. His expression shifted—his eyes darkened, his lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he looked as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, stopping a few steps above him.

He blinked, inhaling sharply before smirking. “Can you blame me?”

Your lips curled into a small smile. “It’s just a dress, Jace.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands found your waist as he looked up at you from where he stood a step below. “No. It’s you in that dress. That’s the difference.”

Heat crept up your neck, but before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Come on, love. We have a salon to get to.”

You let him take your hand, allowing him to lead you outside. The drive to the salon was peaceful, the city lights passing by as Jace rested one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns.

“Are you nervous?” he asked suddenly.

You glanced at him. “About what?”

“Tonight.” His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly. “It’s our first proper date.”

You considered his words. In a way, he was right. The two of you had been tangled in each other’s lives for so long—through obsession, trauma, and chaos—but you had never had something as simple as a normal date.

“Not nervous,” you admitted softly. “Just… I don’t know. It feels different.”

Jace smiled, his thumb stroking your skin. “Different is good.”

You met his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest. “Yeah. It is.”

The rest of the drive was quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the radio. When you arrived at the salon, Jace was already out of the car before you could move, opening your door for you.

“My lady,” he teased, offering his hand.

You rolled your eyes but took it, letting him guide you inside. The staff greeted you warmly, already expecting your arrival, and Jace made sure you were comfortably seated before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Enjoy yourself,” he murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”

You smiled as he stepped back, watching him settle onto one of the couches near the entrance, his eyes never leaving you. Even now, he couldn’t take his attention off you.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You hummed softly as the hairstylist ran their fingers through your hair, carefully working on the final touches. The salon smelled of lavender and vanilla, the air warm and calming.

“You’re a lucky woman,” the stylist commented with a smile as they adjusted a curl. “Jacaerys Velaryon isn’t just rich—he adores you. I can see it in his eyes.”

You met their gaze through the mirror, a small smile forming on your lips. “I know.”

Jace was many things—obsessive, overprotective, sometimes reckless—but his love for you had never wavered. He was always there, watching over you, making sure you were safe. Even when you had been at your lowest, drowning in trauma, he never left.

Just as you were about to turn and look at him, you noticed he was gone. His seat near the entrance was empty.

Your eyes scanned the room until you caught sight of him through the reflection of the mirror. He was standing near the back of the salon, phone pressed to his ear, his expression dark. His jaw was tight, shoulders stiff, fingers gripping his phone with more force than necessary.

Something was wrong.

Your fingers curled into your lap. You wanted to ask, to get up and walk over, but before you could, the stylist gently tilted your head. “Almost done, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.”

You swallowed your concern and nodded, letting them finish. Jace was still on the phone, his voice low, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

By the time you stood up, he had disappeared completely.

Your stomach twisted slightly as you stepped away from the chair, smoothing down your dress. Where did he go?

You made your way toward the back of the salon, slipping past the employees. You pushed open the door leading to a quieter hallway, and there he was—standing near the exit, his back turned to you.

”—if he’s still alive, I want to know where the fuck he is.”

Your breath hitched.

“No mistakes this time. Handle it.”

Silence.

Then, Jace let out a slow breath, his shoulders visibly relaxing before he ended the call.

You took another step forward. “Jace?”

He turned sharply, his eyes meeting yours. The storm in them softened almost immediately.

“You’re done?” he asked, his voice lighter now, as if nothing had happened.

You nodded slowly. “Who was that?”

“Just business.” He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You look beautiful.”

Your heart clenched. He was trying to distract you.

“Jace,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his. “That call—who were you talking about?”

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, instead of answering, he sighed and cupped your cheek. “I told you, love,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your skin. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means making sure ghosts stay buried.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

Ghosts.

Cregan was dead.

Or at least… he was supposed to be.

You froze for a moment when you saw the dress draped over the chair—a stunning white gown, its fabric smooth and flowing like liquid silk. It was elegant yet simple, not overly extravagant, but enough to make anyone feel like royalty.

Slowly, you turned to face Jace. He was leaning casually against the counter, hands in his pockets, watching you with a small smile.

“You got this for me?” you asked softly, fingers grazing the fabric.

His smile widened. “I did. Thought you might like it.”

You swallowed. The idea that he had taken the time to choose something like this, something so perfect, made warmth bloom in your chest.

Before you could say anything else, one of the salon attendants approached, bowing her head slightly. “Would you like to change now, miss?”

You hesitated, glancing back at Jace. He didn’t say anything, only giving you an encouraging nod.

So you took the dress and followed the attendant into the fitting room.

The moment you slipped into it, you felt… different. The way the fabric hugged your body, the way it shimmered under the soft salon lights—it was breathtaking. You barely recognized yourself as you stared into the mirror.

The attendant helped adjust a few details before stepping back. “Perfect,” she murmured.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the fitting room.

Jace was waiting just outside.

The moment he saw you, his entire body seemed to go still. His usual confidence faltered, his lips parting slightly as his gaze traveled over you. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stared.

You had seen him look at you many times before—with adoration, with amusement, with that possessive hunger that never seemed to fade. But this?

This was something else.

“Jace?” you murmured.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, then exhaled a soft laugh. “You’re…” He shook his head, running a hand through his curls. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You smiled, stepping closer. “You really think so?”

His hand reached for yours, fingers curling around your wrist gently. “I know so.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you—like you were the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on. Like he would burn the entire world down just to keep you safe.

And in that moment, you realized—no matter how dark things got, no matter what ghosts from your past tried to haunt you—Jace would always be there.

"Jace, what are you doing?" you grumbled, your hands reaching up to pry his away from your eyes.

He only chuckled, his breath warm against your ear. "Patience, love. Just a little longer."

You could hear the waves crashing gently in the distance, the salty scent of the ocean filling your lungs. The breeze was cool against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Jace—"

"Alright, alright." He finally let go, stepping back. "Open your eyes."

The moment you did, your breath caught in your throat.

The beach stretched out before you, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns carefully placed in the sand. A small dining table sat in the center of it all, draped in white linen, adorned with flickering candles and a delicate arrangement of roses. The ocean reflected the moonlight, casting silver ripples across the waves. It was… perfect.

You turned to Jace, speechless.

"You did all this?" your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk. "Do you like it?"

You exhaled a shaky laugh. "Jace, this is—" You shook your head, eyes glistening. "It’s beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your heart fluttered.

"Come," he said, guiding you toward the table. He pulled out your chair, waiting for you to sit before taking his place across from you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stared at each other, the sound of the waves filling the silence between you.

"You didn’t have to do all this," you said softly.

"I wanted to." His voice was firm, unwavering. "You deserve this. You deserve everything."

You looked down, swallowing hard.

Jace reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You’ve been through hell, love. But you’re still here. Still fighting." His thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always be by your side. Always."

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

"Jace…"

"No more looking back," he whispered. "Only forward. With me."

You nodded, squeezing his hand.

"With you."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Aegon and Aemond pour champagne into your glass with exaggerated grace, as if they were trained butlers.

"What is this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aegon smirked. "A royal service, my lady. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Aemond rolled his eye, setting the bottle down with practiced ease. "Jace insisted we do this. I still don’t know why I agreed."

"Because I made you," Jace interjected smoothly, amusement flickering in his eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

You shook your head, still chuckling, before a sound caught your attention—the soft, elegant melody of a violin drifting through the night air. Your laughter faded as you turned, eyes widening.

A musician stood a few feet away, playing a slow, enchanting tune that mingled perfectly with the sound of the waves. The scene felt like something out of a dream.

When you looked back at Jace, he was already watching you. His gaze was intense, filled with something deep, something unspoken. The flickering candlelight reflected in his dark eyes, making them look almost golden.

"Dance with me," he murmured, standing up and holding out his hand.

You hesitated for a second, your heart pounding, but then you placed your hand in his.

Jace pulled you to your feet gently, his grip firm yet careful. With Aegon and Aemond smirking behind you, you stepped onto the soft sand, where the melody continued to play.

"Ignore them," Jace whispered, pulling you closer. "It's just us."

And so, with the moonlight shining above, the waves singing their lullaby, and the violin playing just for you, you danced.

Jace’s arms tightened around you as you swayed gently to the rhythm of the violin, the soft sound of the waves harmonizing with the melody. His warmth enveloped you, grounding you in the moment, in him.

Then, his voice—low, rough with emotion—whispered against your ear.

"I love you."

You stiffened slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

"I love you more than anything in this world," he continued, his voice steady, unwavering. "And I will protect you, no matter what it takes. No one will ever hurt you again."

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded.

"Jace... I—"

"Shh," he cut you off softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with infinite tenderness. "I don’t need you to say anything. I just need you to know that I will never leave you. Never."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his words, of his presence.

Jace leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. "You are everything to me," he whispered. "And I will walk through fire, through hell itself, if it means keeping you safe."

The night felt still around you, as if the universe itself had paused to witness this moment.

Slowly, you lifted your hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. A silent promise. A vow.

And when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper.

"I believe you."

Jace exhaled shakily, his lips curling into a small, relieved smile. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you—soft and slow, as if pouring all of his love into that single moment beneath the moonlit sky.

The world around you seemed to blur, the sound of the waves fading into the background as Jace knelt before you. The small velvet box in his hands was open, revealing a stunning ring that sparkled under the soft glow of the moon.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Jace..."

His gaze never wavered as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with nothing but love, devotion, and something deeper—an unbreakable promise.

"I know you’ve been through hell," he began, his voice steady yet thick with emotion. "I know you think you're broken, that there are pieces of you that can't be put back together. But I don’t care how many scars you carry, how many nightmares still haunt you—I love you."

Your hands trembled, your mind racing, but he reached out, gently taking one of your hands in his.

"You don’t have to be perfect," he whispered. "You don’t have to heal overnight. I just want to be the one standing beside you, through every high, every low, through every dark night and every bright morning. I want you, always."

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him—the man who had fought for you, who had held you through your worst nights, who had never once turned away even when you tried to push him away.

"Marry me," Jace said, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. "Let me be the one to love you for the rest of my life."

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping as emotions swirled inside you—fear, hope, love.

You had never thought this moment would come. Not after everything. Not after the nightmares and the broken pieces you thought no one would ever want.

And yet, here he was.

Still choosing you.

Still loving you.

Your voice wavered as you finally found the strength to speak.

"Yes."

The moment the word left your lips, Jace let out a breath he had been holding, his expression breaking into one of pure, unfiltered joy. He slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly, before standing up and cupping your face.

Then, without hesitation, he kissed you—slow and deep, as if trying to tell you everything words couldn’t.

The cheers of Aegon and Aemond broke through the quiet night, but you barely heard them.

Because, for the first time in so long, you felt something you thought you had lost forever.

Hope.

Your tears fell freely, but for the first time in a long while, they weren’t from pain or fear. They were from joy—overwhelming, heart-crushing joy. Jace was still kissing you, his lips moving softly against yours, pouring all his love into that one moment.

Then, the sound of clapping grew louder.

You pulled away slightly, your breath hitching as you turned to see a group of familiar figures standing nearby. Rhaenyra, Alicent, Luke, Daemon—his usual smirk present—Helaena. They were all there, watching, smiling, celebrating.

Jace chuckled, pressing his forehead against your temple. "I should’ve known they wouldn’t let us have this moment alone."

Rhaenyra stepped forward first, a teasing smile on her lips as she looked between the two of you. "Took you long enough," she mused, her voice warm. "I was starting to think my son didn’t have the courage."

Jace groaned, shaking his head. "Not you too, Mother."

Alicent laughed softly, stepping beside Rhaenyra. "Oh, she’s not the only one. We’ve been waiting for this moment for a while." Her eyes softened as they met yours. "And I can’t think of anyone better to stand beside him."

Luke practically tackled you in a hug before Jace pulled him away, shaking his head. "Careful with my fiancée, Luke."

Hearing that word—fiancée—sent a shiver through you. It was real. You were engaged.

"Fiancée, huh?" Aegon smirked, holding up a glass of champagne. "So does this mean we can start planning the wedding? Because I have some… let’s just say, unique ideas."

Aemond rolled his eye. "Don’t let him anywhere near the planning, unless you want a bachelor party that ends in absolute chaos."

Jace shook his head, wrapping an arm around you protectively. "Aegon is not planning anything."

You laughed softly, leaning into Jace as he held you close. The moonlit beach, the sound of waves crashing, the warmth of Jace’s body beside you, the presence of family—it was more than you ever thought you could have.

And for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel like a broken woman trying to survive.

You felt like a woman who was finally, truly living.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @ashblooddragons

[lovelytsunoda]

love is a losing game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

PART I - Wonderwall

Summary: Detectives Jessica Statham and Jake Seresin are ready to tie the knot! Fast forward six years, and they're trying desperately to have a baby. Feeling the mounting pressure of his job, his mortgage and the rising cost of living, Jake's looking for an answer to all his problems. Enter his partner, Detective Bradley Bradshaw, who has an idea for a side gig that might not be entirely legal

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of fertility issues, depictions of a car accident and miscarriage. Mentions of mental health struggles. Jessie really wants to be a mother, Jake gets told he has a lower than average sperm count. Infidelity (NOT FROM JESSIE OR JAKE) Bradley is actually such a horrible person I’m so sorry but someone had to be the bad guy here. Intense violence.

Author's Note: Guys I feel like I'm back in my Wattpad era here! Anyone who regularly reads my shit knows I'm awful at continuing series (Rip to the Welcome to Wherever You Are Verse and the Radiator Springs series) but I've had Bosch on the brain lately and its giving me ideas like no other. I hammered out most of this chapter in like two hours.

Cop Terms Glossary: RHD (Robbery-Homicide Division), Vice (a division of the police department assigned to crimes related to gambling & prostitution)

Series Masterlist

June 2017

“Well, I’m beat. Anybody want a stiff drink?” Detective Tom Kazansky asked around as they filed out of the courtroom and down the hallway.

Since the Kelly Garrett trial had concluded for the day, Jessica had been strangely quiet, staring down at her phone almost as soon as she had left the courtroom.

“Yeah, why not.” Pete Mitchell relented, turning to look at his desk officer. “Jessie, you in?”

Her head snapped up from her cell phone, tendrils of cherry-red hair falling in front of her eyes. She had been working with the two detectives for just under two years. Kazansky was easygoing and the two had clicked fast, but Mitchell had taken her a lot longer to warm up to. He seemed to see conspiracies everywhere, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was usually right. She and Mitchell had an unusual bond, and it raised many eyebrows around the department.

Six months ago, in pursuit of both a ring of dirty cops who had murdered her patrol mentor, Javy Machado, as well as the killer of a pornography director, Jessica had been caught in the bloody crossfires of a daylight shooting on her day off. The bullet had grazed her leg, and put her out of commission for a week. Seeing that the wife of the dead man who shot her was currently on trial for murder, Mitchell and Kazansky thought she’d be a little more attentive.

“Actually,” she grinned, tapping her manicured nails against her phone case, giddy with excitement. “I have a date.”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. “A date?”

“Yeah. He’s also a cop. He works patrol out of Franklin, near Thai Town. I met him when the trial first started.”

“I’ll be damned.” Tom grinned. “Who would have thought. Go on, don’t let us keep you. And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Jessie gave him a look as she turned to walk out the main courthouse doors. “Knowing you and Pete, that doesn’t stop me from doing much.”

Pete laughed. “She’s got us there, Tom.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Detective Pete Mitchell found it hard to believe that conversation had taken place just three years prior. He was ruminating over it as he pulled his Jeep into a parking space near the marina hall, taking in the balloons, partygoers and the chalkboard sign outside the entrance.

Welcome to the wedding of Jake Seresin and Jessica Statham.

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” Tom Kazansky wisecracked from the passenger seat. “She’s come a long way, as a person and as a cop.”

“I’ve never been prouder of someone I’ve mentored.” Pete agreed. “Come on, let’s get in there soon so we don’t have to sit at the back with the riff raff.”

Kazansky laughed. “The riff raff? You know its mostly cops in there, right?”

“They’re vice cops, Tom. Vice cops.”

The front hall of the building was deserted, a hair metal love ballad playing over the speaker as guests filed into the main room. To his right, Pete could see the bridal party gathering together. Jessie was in the middle, looking radiant in a simple white dress. Her hair was back its natural color, cascading in waves over her shoulders and back. Mickey Garcia, another RHD detective, was fiddling with her hair, attempting to straighten the ribbon holding it back from her face.

“Mickey, stop touching things! Natasha spent like two hours on this!”

Mickey and Jessie had come up through patrol together, alongside Javy Machado. They had gotten closer after Javy died, and Jessie continued to think of him as one of her best friends. He was always there to give her guidance, or listen to her rant about whatever rule Pete had broken that day.

“I thought you stopped listening to this stuff after the Ansel Howard appeal?” Pete remarked, approaching the group.

Jessie turned to face him, eyes lighting up. “Pete! You made it! And don’t talk about that disgusting man on my wedding day, please.” She resisted the urge to shudder thinking about the convicted felon who had leered at her in court and sent threatening letters to her house, or how his lawyer tried to tear her apart on the stand with her sealed juvenile record. “I’m glad you made it.”

Pete pulled her in for a hug, and had a vague sense that soon enough, he’d be watching his own daughter go through the same motions. “You might want to get Natasha to check your hair again. Make sure she can fix whatever Garcia has done to it.”

“It was crooked!” Mickey protested

Jessie giggled, pulling away from the detective. “I will. Hi, Tom. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The other detective said, giving her a quick hug. “I hope we’re not too late.”

Jessie shook her head. “Just in time, actually.”

The detectives filed out the door, settling in at the wide end of the dock, where white wooden chairs with large ribbons on the backs had been set up. Ron Kerner, the chief desk officer out of Hollywood station, had saved the pair seats.

Back in the marina hall, Jessie was vibrating with excitement as the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up to make their entrance. Jake Seresin was standing at the front with his mother, and Natasha had dramatically covered his eyes with a sleeping mask as everyone fell into their practiced positions. Jessie’s dad linked his arm with hers as Natasha passed her the bouquet of wildflowers.

“I’m so happy for you, Jessie.” Natasha gushed. “Don’t think about anything else out there. Just you and Jake.”

“Thank you, Nat. I’m ready to start whenever you guys are.”

The music started up, something neutral and cheery, as the groom and his mother, followed by the paired off bridesmaids and groomsmen (or, in Mickey’s case, Mickey and one of Jake's groomsmen striding down the dock like football players taking to the field at the Super Bowl). Jessie watched from the doorway, a wide smile on her face and feeling of elation in her stomach that was quickly weighed down by nerves.

Her dad squeezed her arm, looking down at her. “You’ve got this, kiddo.”

The music changed one final time, a soft new wave song from the mid-nineties. Jessie took a deep breath, tightened her hold on the bouquet, and began to walk down the pier. It was a beautiful day outside, sunlight reflecting off the blue water of the Marina del Rey. But all of that paled in comparison to the sight of her husband to be standing at the altar.

Jake Seresin took her breath away in his tight black suit, white carnations pinned to his lapel. His usually messy hair was moderately tamed, and Jessie had no doubt that he would smell like hair gel when she stood across from him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the breeze, but she didn’t feel cold.

No, she felt warmth blossom through her chest when she saw Jake see her in her dress for the first time. His face went pink with emotion, tears pricking at his eyes.

Please don’t cry, she thought. If you cry, so will I, and then my mascara will run and the pictures will be ruined.

Her walk down the aisle seemed to both take too long and not long enough as she passed Natasha her bouquet, moving to stand in front of JaKe. One of his calloused hands came out to hold hers, rubbing reassuring circles on her palm.

“You look beautiful.” He choked out, tearing up. “I love you so much.”

She beamed at him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you too, Jacob Arthur Seresin.”

Behind them, the officiant cleared his throat. “It’s a little too soon for the vows, kids. I do have a speech to get through, you know.”

The couple laughed, refusing the let go of their held hands. The officiant began his speech, and Jessie took a peek out at the crowd. The seats were full, and she was floored that so many people had cared enough about her to come and watch her marry the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Now, I know you guys are both cops, and there are default vows that cops usually say at these things,” the officiant started “but I do believe the bride and groom have written their own vows.”

From that moment forward, Jessie tattooed Jake’s vows to the inside of her brain. His vows to protect her, to love her, to always have her back, to cherish her. To be her safe haven when the world became too much.

And seven years later, when he walked out of their house in handcuffs, there was another promise he made that she couldn’t help but repeat like a mantra.

To never let her become a single mother.

Four years later

Jessie’s aging Volkswagen Golf waited in the intersection, blinker on with the expectation that traffic would cool enough for her to take the left hand turn that would set her and Jake back on their way to Los Angeles. They had spent the weekend in Pasadena with her parents, as well as her cousins and their kids.

She would be hesitant to admit it out loud, but seeing Jake interact with her nieces and nephews lit a fire inside her that she never knew was there. He was so good with kids, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would act with a kid of his own. She knew in her gut that she would be such a good father.

“Will’s daughter is adorable.” Jake remarked, his hand trailing to Jessie’s jean-clad thigh. The radio hummed softly in the background, playing an old Huey Lewis song that they had danced to at their wedding. “Did you see the way she followed your sister around the kitchen, waving that wooden spoon about.”

Jessie snorted, tapping her fingernails against the steering wheel. “I thought she was going to take her brother’s eye out with that thing.”

The light changed from green to yellow. Seeing a gap in traffic, Jessie took her foot off the brake and completed her turn. Or at least, she tried to. There was a sickening crash as another vehicle cut in front of her, taking off the front end of her hood. The seatbelt dug into her stomach as the car spun around, her forehead snapping against the steering wheel right before the airbags engaged.

“Jessica!” Jake shouted after the car had stopped, straining around his seatbelt and the airbag dust to get a glimpse of his wife. “Jessica!” He fumbled with the car door, slicing through his seatbelt with the Swiss Army Knife in his jeans pocket.

He ran around the back of the car, ignoring the other driver who was cursing a storm at him over the wreckage of his Tesla. Jake clawed at the door, desperate to get to his wife. “Jess.” He said firmly, sawing at her seatbelt. She was groggy, but awake. She seemed unharmed, but Kevin wouldn’t know until he got her out of there.

“Jake?” She murmured, reaching for the collar of his flannel shirt.

“I’m right here, baby. Right here.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled her out of the driver’s seat, setting her down on the road. The Tesla driver was still shouting, screaming about how he was going to call the cops.

“You just hit two cops, you self-righteous son of a bitch!” Jake cried, fumbling for his badge. “Detective Jake Seresin, Hollywood Vice. Now I need you to call my wife a goddamn ambulance!”

Jessie’s jeans were soaked with blood, and there was a cut running down the side of her head where she was hit with broken glass from her rearview mirror.

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding real bad. Are you hurt?”

Jessie shook her head, trying hard to keep her eyes open.  “Just my head, I think. And my stomach. But it feels more like a cramp.”

“Just keep holding my hand, baby. I’m calling it in.” Kevin tried to stay levelheaded. There were a whole manner of injuries Jessie could have that weren’t visible. Internal bleeding, broken bones. His fingers stained his screen protector with blood as he dialed the 911 circuit board. “This is Detective Jake Seresin, my wife, Detective Jessica Seresin and I were just in a car accident in Pasadena, at the intersection near Robinson Stadium. We need an ambulance and two patrol units.”

The next few hours felt like an incoherent blur. Jake was largely fine aside from some bruising on his ribs from the airbags. Jessie’s condition was more complex, and Jake was worrying himself sick as he paced up and down the hospital waiting room, hoping that when the doctor came out, it would be with good news. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally allowed into the room to see her. The only other time they had been to the emergency room together was when Jessie had her heart episode, right in the middle of one of the LAPD’s most high-profile cases. Considering she had worked that case with Pete Mitchell, it was no surprise that it had driven her to a near heart attack.

He sat next to her hospital bed, taking her hand in his. There was a red mark on her hand where her wedding ring had been, now sitting on the nightstand next to her. Jessie was awake, and mostly alert. There was a bandage on the side of her head, but other than that, she seemed to be fine.

“Jake, you’re okay.” Jessie breathed, squeezing his hand. “I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, Jess. That was a lot of blood.”

“The doctor should be in in a moment.” The nurse standing next to Jessie’s bed gave the couple a tired smile as she finished adjusting Jessie’s IVs.

Shortly after the nurse had left, a broad-shouldered doctor came into the room, brandishing a clipboard. He cleared his throat before introducing himself to Jake. “Well, the good news is that you both are fine. All wounds were minor, but you both should be on the lookout for any delayed symptoms, especially those associated with whiplash.” The doctor paused. “Now for the bad news. Your baby didn’t make it.”

Jake sat up straighter. He felt Jessie’s hand tighten around his as she weakly gasped out “what baby?”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “Did you not know? Mrs. Seresin, you were nine weeks pregnant.”

Jessie froze in place, before letting out a choked wail. “No. No, no, no…”

“Oh, Jessica.” Jake sighed, feeling his heart shatter “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.” She sobbed, leaning against her husband for support.

“I know, honey. I know. I’ve got you.”

The months that followed were rough on both parties. Jessie withdrew from Jake, burying herself in her work. Jake started drinking, staying out later with his colleagues. He hated that Jessica was in so much pain and that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. At the same time, he was grieving what could have been. He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted to be a father until the universe ripped that opportunity from him.

It all came to a head when he came home from work and found Jessica sobbing on the kitchen floor, practically catatonic. She had required inpatient psychiatric care after that, at a facility in Santa Clarita. It wasn’t an easy decision for Jake to make, and he worried what the people around him would think, would say behind his back. But he didn’t know what else to do.

The day he dropped Jessica off at the facility, he drove back home in silence. Every song that came on in his Dodge Charger reminded him of her. When he got home, he sat on their living room couch and cried his eyes out. He slept in the guest bedroom for weeks afterwards.

So, when she approached him seven months after she came home from Santa Clarita and told him she wanted to start trying for another baby, he was hesitant. He couldn’t see her put herself through that cycle of guilt and shame again.

“Jessica, are you sure this is something you want?”

They were sitting on the patio together, her legs thrown over his. He had a beer in his hand, and she had an old-fashioned glass bottle of cream soda. She did look better. Her skin was a healthy color, and she had put on enough weight that she looked healthy. She was eating better, staying hydrated. She was almost back to being the woman that Jake had married.

Almost. There was something stirring behind her eyes, just below the surface.

“Jake, I’m better now. I’m medicated, I’m emotionally stable. I know you feel like the bad guy for sending me, but the psych ward did wonders for me.”

Jake winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what it was. An inpatient mental health facility.”

“Psych ward just sounds so…rough. It was more like high-class rehab for people with mental health issues.”

“Jake, look at me.” She said sternly, resting a hand on his chest. “I want this. But more than that, I want this with you. Nobody else.”

Later that night, after a tender night spent pressed up against each other underneath cotton sheets, they lay next to each other in bed. Jessica had her legs up the wall, like the fertility websites she had spent the week reading had told her to do. Jake lay the opposite way, their faces meeting in the middle of the bed. She was mindlessly tracing shapes against his hairy chest, lost in thought.

“You’re going to be a phenomenal mother.” Jake said sincerely, taking her hand in his. “And this baby is going to be so loved.”

She met his gaze. “You really think we can do it?”

“I know we can. There’s nobody else I would want to bring a child into the world with but you, Jessica.”

Getting pregnant wasn’t easy either. Before long, it became a routine of ovulation calendars and fertility vitamins, as well as routine pregnancy tests. Five months of this routine went by before Jake brought up the elephant in the room and suggested they see a doctor, knowing full well that the LAPD’s insurance coverage didn’t apply to specialist doctors. Especially ones that dealt with fertility issues.

Jessica thought that it was her fault. That something had happened to her womb in the accident that would make it impossible for her to bear children. Four tests and three doctor’s appointments later, it turned out that she wasn’t the problem.

Jake was.

He blinked at the doctor, hand tightening around his wife’s. “I’m sorry, what? I’m not following.”

The doctor smiled sadly at him before reading the results again. “I’m afraid you have a low sperm count, Mr. Seresin. This could be why you’ve been having problems. Its not dangerously low in the sense that you wouldn’t be able to father a child, but it is low enough to be cause for concern. I understand you were able to conceive once before, and I see no reason that you wouldn’t be able to again. You just need a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

Two weeks later, he was still thinking about that conversation. It permeated every waking moment, including the mind-numbing hours spent in the passenger seat of Detective Bradley Bradshaw's battered Ford Edge, watching a laundromat that they knew was operating an illegal casino out of their upper floors.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t give his wife a baby?

“Kid, how much money have you already spent on this?” Bradley stared at him from behind his aviator sunglasses. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Its not covered by insurance,” Jake continued, picking at the band of his watch. “And we are thousands of dollars in outstanding invoices. I haven’t told Jessie. How can I? She’d make us stop going, and that would destroy her. She really wants this, Bradley.”

Bradley frowned, popping a cashew into his mouth. “How do you feel about moonlighting?”

Jake scoffed. “What, rent-a-cop private security gigs? Come on, man. I’m a goddamn detective. I don’t need to be doing all that.”

“And yet even on the salary of two second-tier detectives, you can’t afford your own medical bills.” Bradley pointed out. “Just come with me tonight, I’ll pick you up. Jessica doesn’t need to know about it.”

Jake had a bad feeling in his gut that this job wouldn’t be entirely legal. At the same time, he didn’t think he was in any position to be turning down paying work. That night, when he came home from work, Jessica was in the kitchen, lights dimmed low and Amy Winehouse playing from the stereo. She was still dressed in her blazer from work, hips swaying as she stirred the pan on the stove.

“God, baby, that smells incredible. What are you making.”

“Pasta with lamb sauce.” Jessie replied, not looking up from the pan. “Hey, I got you something. Can you open the white envelope I left on your plate?”

Jake left his leather jacket and boots in the front hallway, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before he kissed his wife on the side of the head and moved to open the envelope. He had half slid the contents out of the envelope when his heart slipped a beat.

“Jessica, are you really?”

Jessie switched off the stove, turning to gave her husband with a broad smile on her face. “We did it, Jake. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Jake broke into a smile, pulling the ultrasound picture the rest of the way out of the envelope. He thought he was going to tear up looking at the little image, his beautiful baby. “Come here.”

“Jake Seresin, are you crying?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around her husbands waist before leaning up to kiss him.

“Of course I’m fucking crying! We’re going to be parents! I’m so happy right now, honey.”

Laughing with glee, Jake leaned down to kiss his wife. Everything had been worth it. Even though he knew he was running out of time to pay off those invoices before the debt collectors showed up.

Even though he knew babies were expensive, and their expenses would soon start piling up.

Nothing else mattered, because he was going to be a father, and there was nothing Jake Seresin wouldn’t do to protect his family.

Bradley picked him up at eight that night. It was dark outside, the road ahead lit only by the detectives headlights. Bradley never said where they were going or what they were doing, and had shut down all of Jake’s attempts at conversation. The neighborhoods they were driving through were getting richer and richer, and that bad feeling Jake’s stomach continued to grow.

They didn’t park near the house, instead leaving the Ford one block away. Confused, Jake followed Bradley, taking long strides to try and keep up. Something felt off. If their work was above board, why did they park so far away, and why were they sneaking around late at night in Beverly Hills?

He watched as Bradley knocked on the door, the two detectives standing side by side on the large doorstep. As soon as the door opened, Bradley lashed out with a yell, punching the homeowner on the other side in the nose.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Jake shouted, following his partner into the entryway. “What is going on here?”

“Shut up.” Bradley snapped back, digging his phone out of his pocket. He crouched next to the bloodied homeowner, showing him something on his phone. Jake crept closer, trying to get a glimpse of the screen. Playing out on Bradley’s phone, the man in front of them was actively engaging in a threesome with two tall blondes. Given the angle of the recording, he didn’t know it was being filmed

Bradley looked towards one of the pictures in the front hall, showing that same man posing with a stunning Indian woman and their two children.

“I bet your wife and kids wouldn’t be too pleased to know that when you go out of town for a business trip, you’re actually going down to Hollywood to pay to get your dick sucked.”

the man was cowering on the floor, blood dripping onto the tile. “What do you want from me?” He shouted at Bradley.

Jake felt sick and started slowly backing away to the door. This was a side of Bradley he’s never seen before. One that sickened him. Yet somehow, he knew it had to have always been there. There was a reason Hollywoods vice cops had the highest corruption rates.

He just never thought he’d be adding to that statistic.

“Give me twenty grand, and the video gets deleted. Half of the money goes to me, the other half to my friend here.” Bradshaw nodded his head in Jake’s direction. “All cash, totally untraceable. We take gold too. Maybe a Rolex or two if you’ve got them lying around.”

“Man, enough.” Jake insisted. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Bradley glared at him. “Do you want to be able to pay your mortgage or not.”

“No. Not like this.”

“Well,” Bradley started, getting to his feet and kicking the unnamed man in the stomach. “You no longer have a choice.”

They left the house shrouded in an awkward silence. Jake’s hands were shaking, hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket. So many questions were running through his mind as they walked back to Bradley’s car.

“Man, I know it looked rough,” Bradley started “but we’re not doing anything wrong. That man is richer than god, and if he’s gonna cheat on his wife, we might as well get something out of it.”

“You literally beat him until he agreed to give you money, and then made me an accomplice!” Jake hissed. “I just found out my wife is pregnant, I can’t be running around doing shit like this!”

“And if you don’t want to watch your kid grow up from behind bars, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” Bradley huffed, shoving Jake backwards. “From now on, I own you.”

Jessie was asleep on the couch when Jake got home, a paperback book still clutched in her hands. He tried to be quiet as he came in through the front hall, but she stirred anyways.

“Jake,” she smiled. “You’re back. How’s Bradley?”

Jake shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to Jessie, but he was so ashamed of what he had seen that he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “He’s alright. Not much new there, I see him every day. How are you doing? You look exhausted.”

Jessie laughed, pulling the blanket she was wrapped in tighter around her shoulders. “I feel exhausted.”

“You’re doing everything for two now, sweetheart. It’s okay to take some time to rest.” Jake soothed, kissing her forehead gently. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you more, Jessica Seresin.”

Jake Seresin would do whatever it took to keep Jessie safe.

Whatever. It. Took.

Even if it meant being at Bradley Bradshaws beck and call.

[queencaramilflinda]

Everyone during neverafter 15: oh my god these social interactions are going horribly they’re all doing so bad!

Me, neurodivergent and cannot read social cues: idk mostly these seem fine

[mortalscience]

ten caps per episode - Law and Order Criminal Intent - s01e11 - The Third Horseman

Eames: "From locks to lock n load." Deakins: "Next step for Mr. Griscom is lockup."

[skrunksthatwunk]

eughhh i feel dumb

[immortalsins]

oughhhhhhhhhhh

[spocksgotemotions]

god i wish i didn’t have to talk to the parents at work. I would rather be left alone in a class with 50 toddlers than have a conversation with a parent that lasts longer than a minute

[monstermp3]

.

[thethingything]

we are finally off the phone! I'd misjudged the time in the last post but in total it as 2 hours and 5 minutes. I do not know what half that conversation even was but holy shit so much of it was her basically making herself out to be so generous and caring and talking about how worried she is about our mum and how terrible it is that other family members don't help her with anything.

meanwhile she calls our mum and asks her to do all this stuff for her and talks to her like shit and guilt trips her into doing stuff and I know about so much incredibly fucked up stuff she did when our mum was a kid but she doesn't know that we know she's done all this.

also she normally keeps our mum on the phone for this long but doesn't keep us on the phone for very long and it's really weird suddenly being treated like our mum, but she called us because our mum wasn't picking up the phone (she's at work and can't do that) and it's reminding me of the thing where when we had covid in 2021 and our mum couldn't answer the phone, everyone started calling us and dumping every responsibility they'd normally dump on our mum on us instead and basically treating us how they'd normally treat her.

like oh the usual family scapegoat isn't available? time to pester her eldest "daughter" until they have a breakdown and almost end up blocking everyone and refusing to talk to the rest of the family

[readymades2002]

it is very frustrating because my mom does not know What The Deal Is but she certainly Suspects (for good reason. to be fair to her.) and she has Insinuated and she has Implied but she has not asked anything specifically. and its...not unreasonable for her to do this i guess because the last relationship i was in i didn't tell her for a year and a half. because the relationship BEFORE that was my first and it was with a girl and i asked her EXPLICITLY AND URGENTLY to not tell my dad about it because he was a massive homophobe and i knew this and saw this where she did not and she told him anyway and i have not trusted her since though, having few other options, i have continued to confide in her things that i should not confide in her that have then mysteriously made their way through all our shared coworkers back to me. and its.....its so. i don't know what to do about it. she..."stalked" is the wrong word but she followed my blog against my wishes and knowledge as a child and the more i lost trust in her and stopped talking to her the more she pried into my private life. i know my sister had similar experiences with her. and it has created this cycle where i keep trying to keep her out for my own privacy and dignity and safety and she just gets even more desperate and pathetic trying to get in after breaking my trust over and over and OVER again but i live with her and depend on her for far too many things and so it just. is this. awesomesauce

[jjk4isen]

ꗃ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 .

❝ answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and holding me— was she the one on your mind? ❞

summary: it's hard knowing you aren't really the person in toji's heart but loving him was something you still did regardless. as for toji, he thinks he's ready to give you his all.

desc: 2.8k words, f!reader (referred to as ‘mama’), canon compliant i think, takes place after mamaguro's death and before toji’s, age gap (early 20s reader, early 30s toji), baby gumi ahhhhh, sfw, angst to fluff to angst again lol, intended lowercase, think you're tsumiki’s mom but without tsumiki bc the relations would be too complicated and also the second wife erasure in the canon storyline?? yeah it's reserved specifically for this fic, not proof read i fear but pls read it's really interesting i can swear by it lmaoqhdhns

dating a widowed man with a son wasn't easy especially when the said man is still in love with his former wife, or rather, his wife who had died.

love is often beautiful but sometimes it's unfair. it can also be cruel. what other reason would make you still stay despite knowing you'll never measure upto the person who had been here before you?

and you've heard stories about her. she was sweet, so beautiful— not just in her appearance but her entire being was beautiful. there always was an ache in your heart upon just the mention of her name.

so how much more would it have ached for toji?

“mama” the spiky haired boy, barely two years old calls you and you realise the silence in the room. “not mama, i’m nana okay?” sick.

nana. not mama but close enough. it doesn't matter anyway, n and m are just letters and next to each other so how much difference would that make? you're the one that's here after all, are you not?

if there's a lump in your throat and your eyes are burning with unshed tears, you force yourself to ignore.

“okay nana” megumi nuzzles his face into your chest, slowly drifting away to sleep. the boy always liked cuddling with you and it melts your heart immensely.

your hands strand through his dark hair. people always said he's the carbon copy of his dad but you'd like to differ. megumi has his mother's eyes and his hair resembled hers more than it did his dad's.

the thought sends another ache in your chest but you push it away– as you always have.

you recall the last time toji had heard megumi call you “mama”. you had never seen toji that livid. he was never a gentle man to begin with but that night, there was nothing else you've been more scared of.

was he like that to his wife? maybe not.

does that matter though? it's not like toji treats you badly. he's decent and loves you an enough amount. you weren't crazy enough to stay when you're not wanted so that must mean you were something to him right?

you also recall the whispers of pity and condemnation thrown at you for just being with toji. him being a brute is one thing but the difference in age is what people seem to have a problem with. you're so much younger than him and have your whole life ahead of you so why are you entrapping yourself this way?

you disagree though. love doesn't know any age and you definitely aren't naive to be head over heels over a guy just because he's relatively older. no, this was real and genuine.

a faint knock disrupts your train of thoughts. “he sleepin’?” toji nods towards the small boy in your arms and you nod back in return.

taking care not to wake the sleeping kid, you slowly pry his hands away from you and pull over a blanket to cover his small body.

when you make your way towards toji, he wastes no time in pulling you closer “missed you” he mumbles, placing a kiss onto your forehead and suddenly all thoughts plaguing your mind disappears. that's all you could ask for, even if it was just for a moment.

“i missed you more” you whisper back, he only huffs out an amused chuckle.

“got bad news though” a frown finds itself on his lips, decorated by a single scar next to it.

“did you lose all your money again?” toji was a gambling addict, another thing you forced yourself to tolerate just for him.

“sorry, doll. thought i’d win this time” he rubs small circles on your back comfortingly and it makes you a bit uneasy to know that he has his way with you so easily.

“it's alright. i’ll just find another part time job”

“so good to me” toji pulls you into his chest and you let out a sigh— of exhaustion? relief? you couldn't really tell but that's not important, toji had you in his arms.

“i’ll try and think of something too. don't worry your pretty little head too much” he lifts you up with ease. while you're in his arms, you feel the safest.

toji really felt bad this time. he was confident he would win but that stupid horse had to trip and lose its lead, ending up last of all places. he knows luck never favoured him but that's didn't stop him from trying again and again and again.

he also knows how you didn't say anything more than necessary about it but he isn't that much of an idiot either. he sees how your expression falters and your shoulders slump a little more when he comes home with another news of his gambling loss.

this is also why he tries, or rather, tried to quit — one too many times, unbeknownst to you. however, old habits die hard and most of the time (everytime) toji gives into his urge and loses yet again. the cycle keeps happening.

maybe this isn't just about gambling.

with the way you're asleep so soundly next to him after putting his son to sleep and taking care of him too, he is overcomed with yet another feeling to be better for you and megumi alike.

toji isn't a gentle man; everyone knows that, you do too — even more than anybody else but he can't help the familiar pool of warm feelings surging through him the longer he stares at your peaceful state.

he remembers the last time he felt it, with another person. it felt like a lifetime ago.

he also remembers how painful it was when he lost it — the person, the feeling altogether. his hands that were making their way to caress your face stops mid air.

toji knows you deserve so much better. you've been nothing but patient to him, so amazing, so perfect to him. still, he just can't do it yet, just not yet.

he will eventually, he hopes you stay until then.

toji wakes up to an empty bed and his heart sinks a little but the creases and wrinkles on the sheets serve as a reminder that you were really here.

he makes his way towards the kitchen, only finding megumi sitting on a chair next to the dining table.

“hey kid, where's your mama?”

toji freezes. it came out so naturally he didn't realise he said it himself and almost thinks he didn't but megumi's wide eyes prove that he actually did.

“m…mama?” megumi says hesitantly and toji nods this time. “yes, your mama”.

“potty potty!” megumi points to the bathroom and giggles, toji follows suit. the man crouches to his son's eye level and pats his head.

“you love your mama, kid?” toji sees megumi's eyes sparkle as the boy nods enthusiastically “very very much!!”

“yeah? i love your mama too.”

toji smiles to himself, he can't wait to tell that to you.

the next time toji got his pay, he finds himself hesitating. instead of heading towards the race tracks, his feet takes him to a jewellery store.

instead of picking out a slot and testing his luck, he picks out a ring. it's not fancy by any means but he thinks it would be the most beautiful band of metal to exist if it slides into your ring finger.

the tiny ring carries all the heavy feelings he has for you.

──

it was one particular evening when you saw an old man lingering by the front gate. its particular because the warm sunset and the soft cool breeze contrasted the ground breaking truth you find out.

“can i help you?” you ask the old man who looks at you up and down, not making an attempt to hide his distaste of your sight.

“is this where toji zenin lives?” he stares down at you with his scrutinising gaze; it makes you feel small.

“zenin?” you ask, confused. is he referring to toji? but his last name is fushiguro is it not?

“yes toji zenin. i heard he has a son as well. you're not the mother are you?”

is it that obvious? you wonder how the old man figured it out. regardless, you're not about to give him his answers so you stood your ground.

“i’m sorry i don't know what you're talking about.” you turn around, about to head inside when his words make you stop short.

“are you fushiguro?”

that's toji’s last name isn't it? not zenin or whatever he called it. so why is he asking you that? is he implying that you're married to toji?

“no. you have the wrong person.”

“why? did he say not to get involved with anyone from his clan?” the old man draws closer, chucking to himself. you're just there unmoving, trying to comprehend the situation and the words coming from his mouth.

“or did he not tell you that either? did he tell you anything at all?” he stands tall in front of you, tearing away bits of yourself with every word he says.

“when he returns, tell him the clan wants to propose him an offer. you can do that much at least won't you?”

…

and when toji comes home that night with the ring cluched tightly in his fist and inside the pocket of his white pants, the world stills.

he finds you in a state he has never seen you before. you look completely and utterly defeated.

“hey, what's wrong?” his hands come to caress your face so effortlessly, the ring and prior nervousness long forgotten.

“talk to me what's going on?” he looks around and the house seems emptier than usual. your laundry that were usually hanging with his were gone.

your small trinkets you placed around the house to “make it more lively” were nowhere to be found.

and there's a bag in the corner of the room which toji prays and hopes he isn't what he thinks it is.

your hands push away his own that were cupping your face. you're not even looking at him.

“say something damn it!”

you flinch and toji takes a step back. he recalls the last time you trembled in fear — when he got mad megumi called you his mom. he punishes himself for it.

“im sorry. please talk to me.” he isn't touching you now but he wants to. he wants to reach out and pull you close, as he always had done. but now there's an unbearable silence and the small distance between you both felt like lightyears away.

“who's zenin” your voice was meek, barely a whisper but toji's eyes widen. how did you find out about that?

no fuck that, he was supposed to be the one telling you. in his own time.

“i can explain” was all that came out of him. he's nervous, he doesn't know where to start. there's a lot of information to unpack and he's not sure how to do it without hurting you too much.

when he doesn't elaborate, you ask another “who's fushiguro then?” your voice falters a bit and toji curses himself for it.

but he's done running away and keeping things from you. “my… my late wife” he says wryly.

your eyes close and a shaky breath leaves your body, as if he just confirmed your worst suspicions. damn life is so funny isn't it? everything you thought you knew apparently wasn't what it seemed to be after all.

opening them again, your vision blurs and you realise tears were escaping your eyes. fuck you didn't want to cry now of all times but they won't stop.

and the way toji was looking at you, it makes you want to throw up.

“i must've been so stupid to you” you let out a humourless chuckle. “did you pretend im her?”

your gaze was sharp and so were your words. maybe all your bottled up feelings were resurfacing. it doesn't make you feel better about it but that doesn't stop you though.

“answer me. did you think of her when you're in bed with me? when you're kissing me and when you're holding me, was she the one on your mind??” your voice was loud now. you should be afraid of waking up megumi who you cradled to sleep just a few hours ago but no, your thoughts are too clouded right now.

toji sighs. he has no excuse.

“i used to” he actually looks ashamed as if he wasn't the one who did it purely out of his will.

your scoff makes him wince “but not anymore.”

his words fall on deaf ears “you know… i knew you did. but i stayed regardless because i thought there would be a chance that maybe one day, you could open up your heart to me. im not even asking for all of it, just a little… i thought you'd let me in.”

you're blabbering and honestly, so distraught.

“but not a moment was there when it was me isn't it? it was always her in the first place.”

now toji should have said something, anything but he stays there planted in place. and maybe that was your breaking point.

you turn around, grabbing your bag and brushing past him towards the door. instead of holding onto you and stopping you, toji clutches the small box containing the ring — your ring in his pocket, almost crushing it in the process, as he hears the door slam.

you think it's funny how toji did not reach out after what happened. it's poetic even. very fitting of him, till the very end, he did not give two shits about you.

so then, why were you back here?

it's been four long years since the trajectory of your life changed. you still don't know if it was for the better or for the worse.

saying it has been hard would be an understatement. it took you a long time just to get back onto your own feet but you did it regardless. however, you left a part of you here long ago and now, you're here to take it back.

that and you missed megumi dearly. perhaps it was an excuse too because you won't deny a part of you still missed toji, despite everything that happened.

standing a few feet away from the place you used to call home, you hesitate.

maybe this was a bad idea. oh this was definitely a bad idea. you'll see them, and then what? what comes after that?

closure? don't make yourself laugh. you’ll just be reminded of how you couldn't be that person for toji— how you'll always come second. and what if they moved?? there's no reason they'd still be here right?

forget this, you don't need to do this. why must you still be the one who put effort? to reach out? four long years passed and still no news means they clearly moved on... right?

you were convinced enough and was about to go back when you saw little megumi carrying a backpack on his back, seemingly coming home from school.

your feet wouldn't move and your eyes wouldn't blink. he grew up so well.

the world pauses as your gaze follows the kid you used to consider your own, now as good as a stranger.

“do you know that kid?” a voice at your back makes you whip your head around. life really is full of surprises and this time, the surprise was in the form of a tall man, no a tall kid with white hair, looking at you curiously through his round tinted glasses.

“... no i don't” well you weren't exactly lying. you don't know the megumi you see now. perhaps if he asked whether you raised him since he was a baby till he was two, then your answer would've been different.

“oh okay” the boy shrugs. “poor guy though”

“why? whats up with him?” you turn to look at megumi again who was minding his business walking home and your heart aches a little.

“I'm here to recruit him. his dad died you see so he's–”

“wait what was that??”

“his dad. he's dead” the amused boy in front of you chuckles and you stare at him, horrified.

“what happened to him?” your voice was shaky and doesn't sound like your own. he leans down to meet your eye level and smirks “why? i thought you don't know that kid. why does that matter to you?”

your stomach churns as you stare at him, not even knowing what to say— the smug expression on his face only widens.

“so you do know him.”

'know' would be a weak word to use when it comes to toji. you knew of his habits, the simple things he does and also of the more complex ones — like the exact place his scar decorated his lips and how it felt to kiss it.

then again, you don't really know anything about him and maybe you never will.

and maybe that's really, the closure you needed.

[nezuscribe]

gojo is used to strange people with strange requests. he gets paid for doing people’s dirty work, things they’d never do themselves, so this is pretty standard in his line of work.

he had to survive somehow, and if becoming the bidder of bad tidings was what made him coin, then he wasn’t one to complain.

another thing that gojo had gotten especially good at is knowing when somebody is looking for him. it’s usually scurried glances and sweaty palms that give them away. which is why now, as he’s resting an ale in hand at the back of the tavern, does he feel this sense go off.

he sits alone, not looking up from his drink as he feels a set of eyes on him. tonight was his night of rest, his horse was sleeping outside, and he had booked a room just for himself. he didn’t care what they gave him. he was checked out for the night.

the room is crowded, with loud and boisterous laughter filling any gaps of silence. people are taking and shouting, but it doesn’t mask the set of footsteps getting near to where he was trying to hide away from everybody else.

gojo keeps his head down, his nose wrinkling in annoyance when timid hands set a pouch in front of him. filled to the brim with gold, most likely.

“i need your help,” a voice, frightful and cracking, says.

gojo rolls his eyes. this isn’t the first time a girl has run away from his rich family and begs him for a chance away. but he’s done that too many times, gone through too much. he’d rather just kill the parents. he takes a sip of his drink, resting his back on the wall.

he knows how this usually goes. a girl wants to run away, she finds him, they end up running away, only for the girl to feel guilty and beg him to take her back home. either that or she has no plan in mind and forces him on an endless chase to somewhere she doesn’t even know.

judging by the tone of your voice, he’s betting you’re a mix of both right now.

“i’m not offering any help right now,” he says, twisting a ring back and forth on his fingers, one he had stollen a while ago.

“i have more gold,” you beg, “i need your help… please. i heard you’re the only person who’s made it through the north alive.”

gojo glances up at you briefly, taking in your bruised and cut face, most likely from running away, at your eyes filled with tears, and at the way your lips trembled.

his eyes flit away momentarily, not expecting you to take him by surprise. you look more roughed up than the other girls he’s seen so far, a certain heaviness in your stare.

“no.” he says bluntly and your gaze seems to waver just slightly. you gnaw on your lips, wondering how you could change your speech to change his mind.

“my father wants me to marry this man. he’s,” you shudder a little bit at the thought, “inhuman. if i don’t get away soon his men will find me. i,” your breathing shudders, “i can’t let them find me.”

gojo sighs deeply though his nose. so much for a relaxful evening.

his eyes search yours again, and he feels a different urgency that he’s never felt before. something that tells him that this is different, that if he doesn’t help you it’s going to be more than a simple punishment of your father taking away your allowance.

“where’s the rest of your gold?” he looks to your empty hands and then back up to your face.

you sputter, looking at him in shock.

“i-in my satchel,” you swallow thickly, “i left it near your horse.”

his mouth almost quirked upwards.

“where do you want to go?” he asks, watching as your posture straightens up a bit.

“to the shore,” you say, “i’ll get the soonest ship out.”

gojo stares at you and you stare at him. he surveys the pouch of gold, knowing it’s more than he’s ever made in months, something he desperately needs.

he rubs a hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he thinks.

“when do you need to leave?” he asks although gojo already mows the wretched answer.

you look bashful as you duck your head down.

“n-now, if possible.”

gojo stares at your pouch a little bit longer. he downs the rest of his drink as he stands up, eyes raking over your features. if it weren’t for time and place he might’ve asked you to accompany him back to his room.

you stare back at him silently and he quirks his silver brow.

“what?” he grumbles, “get your things. we’re leaving.” a small smile breaks its way into your face as you collect your measly bag and your satchel of gold.

gojo knows he shouldn’t have said yes the moment he saw you grin, knowing that you weren’t an ordinary girl and this wasn’t an ordinary request. but he didn’t find it in himself to care.

at least for now, he didn’t.

[chastiefoul]

coming home to nanami sleeping on the couch but there it is also, the cat he said he 'tolerated' atop of his chest, folding its legs comfortably like a perfectly adorable loaf.

both of his hands resting snuggly on its body, as if he was hugging it to sleep. (he did)

the biggest grin stretched out across your face, taking your phone out as you went to take many many pictures of them first because it was an overwhemingly cute sight, second... well, you know, just for additional satisfaction points after telling him 'told you so!'

alas, your excited steps in getting the photos of different angles woke the man up, as nanami looked like he was caught red-handed after looking back and forth from the cat to your phone. a smug smile made its way to your lips as you crossed arms with a raised eyebrow.

"she came to me herself after i fell asleep," he reasoned, getting worked up all by himself. "i didn't say anything," you replied with a playful shrug as he sighed, looking over the feline who's still asleep; his body language contradicted his words, moving as slowly as possible as to not disturb its slumber.

"you didn't have to love, your smile already said it all," he said as he finally let out a defeated smile, gently running his hand through the fur of the small animal. you had to swallow a squeal from witnessing such a cute sight.

"ready to be honest and admit that you love her so much and you won't let anything bad happen to her ever?" you asked, a big smile still loyal on your expression. nanami chuckled, "not sure if i am at that stage yet but-" he stopped, booping the cat's button nose.

"she is quite cute sometimes, especially when she's not running around clawing things she finds unpleasant—which are almost everything. a hard cat to please, this one."

oh nanami, with the way he said that, he's way past that stage, you thought.

you looked at the oblivious man, keeping that fact to yourself. "alright, i'll accept that answer for today." you nodded thoughtfully feeling pleased, making your boyfriend laugh at the personality similarities; perhaps that's why he came to love your pet as well. "you too, hm? i guess like mother like daughter."