#I’m calm yet sorrowful

[twist3dserenity]

is it bad that I already planned my demise?

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon has been in love with reader for years but she got betrothed to Aemond. She finds Aegon drunk at her door and she takes him in. He tells her he loves her and make smut happen please

I've been on a roll with these request this week! Only three days until the start of Season 2 *screaming*

Question: Should I add Cregan Stark to my character list? If yes, please send requests for him <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, drunk!Aegon, unprotected p + v, cheating (on Aemond)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When the news dropped, Aegon was devastated. He had always known his feelings for you ran deep, but hearing that you were to be betrothed to his own brother made him regret not asking for your hand sooner. The thought of losing you to Aemond gnawed at his heart.

In a fit of fury, Aegon stormed into Aemond's chambers, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘’You knew of my feelings for her, how can you do this to me?’’ he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. 

Aemond looked up from his book, his expression calm and composed. ‘’Father wanted to unite our families. I’m only doing my duty,’’ he replied, his tone measured and devoid of emotion.

Aegon’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, making the goblets and plates clatter. ‘’Fuck duty!’’ he shouted. His voice broke as he continued, ‘’I just…I just want her.’’

Aemond sighed, placing his book aside. ‘’I was asked to marry her, not you. You already have the throne.’’

The throne was given to him because he was the first son. Aegon never asked for it, never cared for ruling or showed interest in politics. He would rather spend his life with you and Sunfyre than sit on the Iron Throne. 

‘’I would exchange my birthright for her in a heartbeat,’’ he confessed, his voice unwavering.  

Later at dinner, Aegon didn’t come down to eat. He couldn't beat the idea of seeing you sitting beside Aemond during a meal. So, he stayed in his chamber, drowning himself with wine. His goblet wasn’t even empty that he would fill it up again. 

He drank until the sun went down and his pitcher was almost empty, and fell asleep on his couch with his goblet in hand. It wasn’t surprising considering how much he had drunk. 

When Aegon woke a few hours later, the castle was sleeping under the cover of darkness. He stood and found himself stumbling through the corridors. His feet carried him to your door in the guest wing, having been many many times. You always took the same chamber when you visited King’s Landing. Aegon raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door creaked open.

You expected to find a servant with your tea, but instead found your uncle Aegon. A frown of surprise and concern creased between your eyebrows. ‘’Aegon? What are you doing here?’’

He swayed slightly, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his undershirt untucked from his breeches. His eyes were red, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. ‘’You can’t marry him. Please, don’t marry him,’’ he mumbled, his words slurred from the wine.

You should have walked him back to his chamber or alert the Queen of her son’s state, but instead you stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. 

Aegon stumbled through the doorway, and you came to his side, helping him sit onto the bed bench. He leaned forwards as you let go of him, resting his forearms on his thighs and his spinning head in his hands. 

You watched him with a heavy heart, guilt knotting your stomach. ‘’I’m sorry for the betrothal. I wanted to tell you myself, but our parents sent the ravens before I could.’’ 

‘’Don’t marry Aemond.’’ Aegon grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. ‘’Don’t do this to me.’’ He looked up at you, his eyes pleading. 

You stayed silent, looking down at him. There were a hundred reasons you should put a stop to this right now. Aegon was drunk. He wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, seeing him like this, vulnerability written all over him, made your heart ache for him. 

‘’You’re drunk. This wasn’t a good idea. Let’s get you back to your chamber.’’ You reached for his arm to help him up, but grabbed your wrist. ‘’Aegon…’’ you sighed.

He pulled you closer to him, but you remained standing. Aegon’s voice was barely a whisper, his words more a plea than a demand. ‘’It’s me you should marry, not my brother.’’ 

You pulled on your wrist, but his grip only tightened. ‘’Aegon, let go. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’’ 

He shook his head, his eyes fixated on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. ‘’I know exactly what I’m saying. I…I love you. I always have. And I can’t bear the thought of you marrying him.’’ 

Your heart was racing in your chest. 

Despite the feud between your mothers, you and Aegon had always been close. He was there when you claimed your dragon, took the blame when you got caught stealing lemon cakes in the kitchen, and always invited you to dance at gatherings, even though he hated dancing. He even exchanged letters with you when you moved to Dragonstone, secretly writing back despite his terrible handwriting and his mother's interdiction. You were his favorite person, the only one he felt truly cared for him.

And now, he was sitting in your chamber, confessing his feelings to you out of pain and desperation.

You wanted to scream. 

At yourself for not recognizing his underlying feelings. At him for not saying those words sooner. At your mother and grandsire for arranging a betrothal with Aemond. He was closer to you in age, mayhaps it was the reason for their decision? And most of all, at the cruel twist of fate that had kept you blind to what was right in front of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Thoughts swirled chaotically in your mind, overwhelming you. You needed time to think, time to process everything. 

But time wasn’t in your hands, it was ticking and passing fast, so you crashed your lips on Aegon’s. He brought you down to his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed across your hips and thighs and everything he could get his hands on in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. You could taste the wine on his lips, the bitter alcohol still lingering in his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair as a moan left his throat, igniting the fire between two dragons.

Impatient, Aegon pulled at the laces of your nightgown while you discarded him of his undershirt and threw it on the floor. Your nightgown found the same fate, goosebumps rising across your skin from the cool air or the room. 

His hands skimmed along your sides, coming to rest on your hips as he rocked against you, his body betraying his need. The rough fabric of his breeches brushed against your bare cunt, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

Your lips moved from his lips to his jaw, trailing a path of kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. His breath caught in his throat as your lips and teeth found the sensitive spot between his collarbone and throat. Aegon let out a soft moan, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving small imprints that would surely turn into bruises come morning.

His hands continued to roam, exploring every inch of your body that he could reach. He moved his lips down to your chest, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your breasts. You arched your back in response, the feeling of his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.

What you were doing was wrong and breaking many rules, but you couldn’t stop. It felt too good. 

Aegon pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he found your lips again. His hands fumbled with the ties of his breeches, desperately trying to undo them while keeping the kiss going. A soft groan escaped him as he managed to push them down, freeing himself from the constricting material. 

The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His body was hot and demanding as he pressed himself closer to you. A gasp left your lips when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, surprised by how warm it felt. 

You gripped his shoulder as Aegon pushed himself inside, your walls closing around him in a snug grip. Aegon’s breath hitched from how tight you felt, his eyes closing briefly as he sank deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body adjusted to him. 

When he started to move, you felt like he was splitting you in half…but in a good way. You clawed at his back, soft little sighs spilling from your lips as Aegon thrusted into you. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure didn’t last long. You were so wet and squeezing him too good that after only a few thrusts, Aegon spilled inside you. 

In his defense, he was drunk and not entirely in control of his cock. 

The sunlight coming through the large window woke you up. You turned away from the window and buried your face into your pillow, trying to fall back asleep, but your arm came into contact with something — someone. 

You opened your eyes, the late events of the night surfacing, and saw Aegon lying beside you. He was still fast asleep, his white hair tousled and messy. His face was relaxed, a stark contrast from his drunkenness. For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful and calm when he slept.

The light streamed over his face, illuminating the sharp planes and angles of his features. You reached out, gently brushing away a strand of hair from his forehead. 

He stirred at your touch, but didn’t open his eyes. ‘’What is it, Mother?’’ 

You chuckled softly, watching as Aegon stirred in his sleep. 

He mumbled again, shifting under the covers. His eyes still closed, he reached out blindly and brushed his fingers against your waist. The contact startled him, not expecting to find another body in his bed, and he opened his eyes. 

A mixture of embarrassment and confusion flickered across his face, remembering his drunk stumble into your chamber. 

‘’I’m sorry for last night,’’ Aegon apologized, his voice strained and hoarse because of how dry his mouth felt. ‘’I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?’’ 

You decided against mentioning his short sexual performance. ‘’More than usual? No.’’ 

He laughed, then groaned as his head pounded. 

‘’Aegon?’’ you said quietly. He hummed. ‘’Why didn’t you say you have feelings for me?’’ 

‘’Because I enjoy self-sabotaging my life.’’ 

You swatted his arm. 

‘’I need to speak to my mother,’’ you declared after a moment of silence. 

The hour was early, but she should be awake. 

You climbed out of bed, your naked body exposed in the bright light of day as you moved around your chamber. There was an ache between your legs, reminiscent of Aegon’s passage inside your intimate part. 

‘’I do not wish to go through the same suffering she endured in her first marriage.’’ You grabbed a dress from the wardrobe and dressed yourself. It was more difficult without the help of a handmaid. ‘’And I know exactly how to convince her to call off the betrothal. I broke my vows to Aemond, I let you take my maidenhood. They will have no choice but to let us wed.’’

—

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[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Mother! Cleopatra x Reincarnated Reader

Getting Reincarnated as the daughter of Cleopatra was the last thing you expected to happen to you.

The woman had you with a lover and decided to pass you off as the daughter of her first husband, Ptolemy XIII.

Let us get one thing straight, you were proud to be Cleopatra's daughter, as you saw her intelligence and chrismatic nature.

Being her first child, her overprotective attitude showed as you grew up.

She seduced Julius Caesar and Mark Antony to secure your safety.

There's no denying that you are her favourite child.

You tried to convince your mother to take different paths to avoid her demise.

But in the end, the paths still led to her demise.

However, the last female Pharaoh of Egypt decided to take you with her, refusing to leave you in the mercy of Augustus Caesar like the rest of her children.

Cleopatra’s gaze burned with a frenzied intensity as she clutched the your trembling hands, her voice trembling with emotion.

"My dearest daughter," she whispered, her tone a mix of desperation and conviction.

"Rome’s chains will not touch us. If Augustus dares to take us, we will not give him the satisfaction of parading us as spoils of war. You and I are above such humiliation, we are divine!"

Her grip tightened, her nails pressing into your skin, and she gestured toward a small, ornate chest on the table.

Within it lay the deadly asp, coiled and waiting.

Cleopatra’s eyes shone with determination as she drew the you closer, her words laced with a terrifying calmness.

"Together, we shall ascend to the gods. You belong with me, forever."

You stumbled backward, your heart pounding in terror as Cleopatra’s words sank in.

"No! I don’t want to die! Please, Mother, we can escape! There has to be another way!" You pleaded, tears streaming down your face.

The idea of experiencing death once again, a foreign, unimaginable concept for someone pulled from a different world sent you into panic.

Cleopatra, however, dismissed your protests with a soft, almost pitying smile, as though the your fear was a child’s naivety.

"Hush now," she murmured, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that only deepened the dread in her heart.

"You don’t understand yet, but you will. This is the only freedom left to us. The gods will welcome us as one."

Desperation clawed at you as Cleopatra reached for the asp, her movements slow.

You fell to your knees, clutching Cleopatra’s skirts, your voice breaking as you begged,

"Please, don’t do this! I’m not ready, I don’t want to leave, I need to be here for my siblings"

For the first time, Cleopatra hesitated, her hand trembling as she looked down at the your tear-streaked face.

For a fleeting moment, something human flickered in Cleopatra’s gaze, doubt, perhaps, or sorrow.

But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by the unyielding determination of a queen who believed she was saving her beloved daughter from a fate worse than death.

"You don’t need to be afraid," Cleopatra whispered, pulling the reader into a suffocating embrace.

"We are leaving this world together. You’ll thank me when we are free."

However, when the asp bites you then Cleopatra...you miraculously and barely manage to survive.

𓅁 𓅂

When you woke, the oppressive weight of Cleopatra’s arms was gone, replaced by the cool silk of Roman linens.

The air felt heavy, and the low murmur of distant voices sent a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, your body weak but alive, and saw a figure seated beside your bed, his presence radiating authority. Augustus.

His smile was unnervingly calm, his piercing eyes watching her as if you were a prey ensnared in his trap.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Augustus said softly, his voice like honey laced with venom.

He leaned closer, his hands clasped as though he were greeting an honored guest, not a survivor of a tragedy he orchestrated.

"You’re even more exquisite than I imagined. Cleopatra spoke of you so often, a divine child, she called you, her most precious treasure."

His gaze darkened slightly, a possessive edge creeping into his tone.

"And now, you’re mine." Your heart raced as you struggled to sit up, your body shaking under the weight of exhaustion.

Augustus reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a mockery of Cleopatra’s tender touch.

"You don’t need to fear me, I will protect you, as she couldn’t. No harm will come to you… so long as you remember who owns you now.”

[choerypetal]

Sorrow / Diego Hargreeves

summary: five doesn't see you as a friend/platonic partner anymore. but to diego's eyes you are his everything.

ps; english isn't my first language so i appolgize for any grammar errors! (also i wanted to write a short diego hargreeves prompt, bc in this house, we stan diego period. and he deserves everything.)

enjoy!

“I don’t love you anymore,” 

The words still echo in the recesses of your mind, haunting you with their bitter finality. You replay the moment when the same phrase was uttered, over and over again. I don’t love you anymore. After all you've endured together in the apocalypse—surviving as a team, protecting each other—it wasn't enough for him. His desires grew, but they no longer included you. He craved something more, something that left you behind.

And for what excuse he said? To protect you. 

It wasn’t until hours later that your entire body began to feel stiff. With everyone else—Lila’s family included—watching from the sidelines, you felt utterly numb. Your lips couldn't form a final sentence, no explanation for the choice that led you here. Even your eyes refused to look away. As your fingers trembled, you struggled to hold back the tears, but that’s when you finally broke. His voice, calling out for you in despair, was unbearable. You wanted to block out every sound, including the sound of your own sobbing.

But you couldn’t escape it. Diego’s voice grew louder, angrier, until it became the only thing you could focus on. He was your voice in that moment, the one who truly understood, whose first instinct was always to check if you were okay. Yet part of you wished he would stop yelling, stop pretending he wasn’t hurt. Why feel hurt at all? The Handler had told you not to, and so had Five. Now, you stood before someone who was nothing more than a stranger. When Diego’s voice suddenly cut through the chaos, trembling with fear, he asked, "Y/N?" His voice mirrored the fear in your eyes when they met his.

Without a word, the room grew cold, the silence thick and suffocating. Your heart pounded wildly, and all you wanted to do was run—so you did. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. Diego’s voice, calling your name, faded into a distant echo as you glanced back to see him chasing after you. But why? What was he trying to hold onto? It didn’t matter. You kept running until your legs gave out, your mind and spirit utterly drained. Collapsing in the middle of the walkway, you fell to your knees, tears streaming down your face. Five’s words had finally shattered you. And then, Diego’s arms found you.

“Shh…” His soft, reassuring whispers began to calm you, even as your cries of despair continued. He gently rocked you in his arms, urging you to look at him as he promised that everything would be okay—that he was there for you. “Breathe. Exhale,” he murmured, and you tried your best to follow his words. As a few tears slipped down your cheeks, he tenderly wiped them away, the warmth of your tears meeting the cold touch of his fingers. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the sensation. “I’m here,” he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He, too, knew what it meant to lose someone you love. 

 “Nobody is going to hurt us, anymore. I promise.”

[p0orbaby]

Spring

summary: the biggest challenge you and Alexia have had to face

warnings: child loss, grief

a/n: this is pretty fucking sad so I’m sorry in advance

word count: 2.4k

-

It was written in the stars, you thought.

Aligned with the season of fresh starts and soft breezes. Sunny evenings and cups of tea sipped on the back porch as the birds sing their morning chorus.

Aurelia, golden like the sun. Silvio, strong and steady.

Either would be fine. Either would be perfect. As long as they had Alexia’s eyes and her determination to make the world a better place, you’d be happy.

The days leading up to the birth were a blur of last-minute tasks and impatient preparations. Nights were spent lying in bed, imagining the future. First steps in the garden, lazy Sunday mornings filled with laughter, and the simple joy of watching your child grow. Each conversation was a step further into the dream you both held dear for so long.

One evening, as the sky blazed with the colors of sunset, you and Alexia sat together outside. Garden chairs close and knees touching. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the sounds of the neighborhood settling into the evening. You felt the world around you slowing down, relaxing.

As though the earth was taking a break just for the two of you.

One last moment of peace.

-

It was that night that there was a shift.

One you’d been waiting for for nine months.

You woke with a start, a sharp pain cutting through the haze of sleep. Alexia was beside you in an instant, her eyes wide with concern and excitement both. The contractions had begun, each one marking the imminent arrival of your baby. The room seemed to hum with anticipation as the two of you prepared to leave for the hospital.

The hospital bag finally picked up from its spot by the front door.

The drive was surreal, the world outside passing in a blur. Alexia held your hand, her grip reassuring as she whispered calming words to quell your nerves. The hospital loomed ahead, a beacon of hope and anxiety. Inside, the staff moved with practiced efficiency, guiding you through the steps with gentle encouragement.

Hours stretched into a timeless void, filled with the ebb and flow of labor. The pain was intense, but Alexia’s presence grounded you. Her voice, her touch, her unwavering support carried you through the toughest moments. The delivery room fizzed with activity, the air thick with expectation.

And then, the moment arrived. The baby’s first cries filled the room, a sound so pure and full of life that it brought tears to your eyes. The nurse placed your baby in your arms, and you looked down at the tiny, perfect face. Alexia leaned over, her green eyes shining with tears you wished to bottle for eternity.

A miracle. A door is yet to be opened and here lies new life.

Strong and steady. The sycamore trees in the garden will keep watch.

For a brief, fleeting moment, the world was perfect. Your hearts swelled with joy, your minds filled with visions of a future that seemed bright and boundless and exciting. The exhaustion, the pain, all of it was worth it for this precious new life cradled in your arms.

The world stopped turning.

Your baby’s cries grew weaker, then stopped altogether. The nurse’s smiles faded as one gently took the baby from your arms. The room, once filled with warmth and life, grew cold and sterile. You watched in stunned silence as doctors and nurses rushed in, their movements urgent and efficient and practiced, you realised.

Alexia’s grip on your hand tightened painfully, her eyes wide with fear. No one answered your unspoken questions, the minutes stretching into forever, the silence broken only by the muffled sounds of medical equipment and hushed whispers. You felt a hollowness growing in your chest, a cold, creeping dread that settled deep in your tired bones.

Finally, a doctor turned to you, his face a mask of professional sorrow. He spoke softly, his words a death knell. The world shattered around you. Alexia’s sobs echoed in the emptiness, a sound of pure, unfiltered grief. And though you felt yourself slipping, it was those sounds, the raw stripped back emotion she kept hidden from eyes that weren’t yours that broke you completely.

Alexia Putellas has shown the world she is human.

The ground beneath you gave way to a chasm of despair. Your baby, your beautiful, perfect baby with your nose and your wife’s hair, was gone.

-

“It’s like you don’t even care!” Alexia’s voice is harsh, cutting through the oppressive silence that has settled over the house.

You look up, startled and defensive from where you’re sitting on the sofa. “What are you talking about? How can you even say that?”

Alexia’s face is flushed with anger, something you don’t see off the pitch often. “You sit there every day, doing nothing. You don’t talk to me, you don’t look at me. It’s like I’m living with a fucking shell of a person”

“I’m trying to cope, Alexia” you snap back. “We both are. Just because I’m not falling apart at the seams doesn’t mean I don’t care”

“Falling apart?” Alexia’s eyes widen, her voice rising. “You think this is falling apart? Our baby died, our son, and you’re acting like it’s just something we can just move on from!”

This all started because she caught you putting his clothes into boxes.

Caught is the wrong word. You weren’t hiding from her. But the day after everything happened she just sat in the rocking chair you picked out together and cried. Her nose buried in an unworn onesie. The label still attached.

You didn’t want that room to become a shrine to a boy you held only once.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, your voice shaking with fractured fury. “Don’t you dare tell me how to grieve. Everyone deals with things differently”

“And what, ignoring it is your way?” Your wife’s words are like daggers, each one hitting its mark. She always was a perfectionist. “Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re pretending everything’s fine when it’s not”

“You think I’m pretending?” you shout, finally standing up. “Do you think I don’t feel it every second of every day? The emptiness, the loss? It’s killing me too!”

“Then why don’t you show it?” she screams back, tears streaming down her face. “Why don’t you let me in? We’re supposed to be in this together, but you’ve shut me out completely”

“You don’t understand,” you mutter, turning away, unable to face her pain on top of your own.

The sycamores are casting shadows over the grass. How dare the sun shine so brightly.

“What don’t I understand?” Alexia demands, stepping closer, her voice trembling with desperation. “What do I not understand about losing our boy?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I can’t talk about it because it makes it real. Talking about it means accepting it, and I’m not ready to do that”

Her expression softens for a moment, as if she forgot she is supposed to be angry with you, then hardens again. “So what, you just shut me out? You leave me to deal with this alone because you’re too scared to face it?”

“It’s not that simple,” you reply, your voice barely audible to your own ears. “I’m doing the best I can”

“Well, your best isn’t good enough,” she shoots back, her voice breaking. “We’re falling apart, and you don’t even care”

“Don’t say that,” you plead, her words cutting deeper than you can bear.

“Then show me,” Alexia says, her voice softer but no less in pain. “Show me that you care, that you still want this, us”

You look at her, your heart breaking all over again. “I don’t know how”

-

The days after the argument with your wife feel like the twilight zone. Your home, once a sanctuary, now feels more like a prison, each room echoing with the whispers of what could have been. Friends and family, well-meaning and kind, flock to your side, but their presence often brings more discomfort than relief.

Salt in the wounds.

You're sitting on the couch, a half-drunk cup of tea cooling in your hands, as Alexia’s mother sits across from you. Her eyes are filled with sympathy you don’t want, her voice too gentle. "I can’t imagine what you’re going through," she says, her words meticulously planned out. "But we’re here for you, both of you”

You nod, forcing a smile. "Thank you," you reply, though the words feel empty. You appreciate their concern, but it does very little to fill the hollow ache inside you.

Eli reaches out, placing a hand on yours. "If there’s anything you need, anything at all..."

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings, and soon the house is filled with more people offering condolences, bringing food, and trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

Teammates with lopsided smiles. Friends with tears and hugs and sticky words. Nothing helps these days, not even your wife.

None of it seems to work.

You move through the crowd like a scent on a breeze, your smiles and nods automatic, your mind elsewhere and nowhere all at once.

In the kitchen, you find Alexia talking to her sister. The sight of them together, their heads bent in quiet conversation, brings a fresh wave of sorrow. You miss her, miss the connection you once shared. Now, even in the same room, she feels like she’s miles apart.

"How are you holding up?" Alba asks as you join them, her eyes wet.

Should you be crying more?

"I’m managing," you say, the lie slipping out effortlessly. It’s easier than trying to explain the turmoil growing inside your chest. Your mind.

Alexia glances at you, her eyes searching your face. "We’re taking it one day at a time," she adds, her voice strained, composed. You can tell she’s just about holding it together for your guests.

The support from friends and family is constant, yet it feels like a barrier rather than a bridge. They don’t understand the depth of your grief, can’t comprehend the void that has opened up inside you. Their attempts to comfort you only highlight the isolation you feel.

You think Alexia feels abandoned. She reaches for you every time you cross paths in the house. She hates that you pull away, skin prickling at the thought of being held. You hate that you crave her touch just as much but can’t bring yourself to seek it out.

How can one feel so alone when they are surrounded by so many? The same way you’re can be lost at sea and getting swallowed by waves that won’t leave you to die in peace.

-

One afternoon, when the house has finally quieted down, you find yourself standing in a patch of sun in the garden. The warmth on your skin felt almost foreign, a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in your heart. The sycamore trees stood tall and proud, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze—a painful reminder that not everything gets the chance to grow.

As you stand there, lost in thought, you hear the door open behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you sense Alexia’s presence like a shadow that had become a part of you. She walks up beside you, her steps hesitant and heavy.

"They mean well," she says softly, coming to stand next to you.

"I know," you reply, your voice void of anything but impatience to finish the conversation. "But it doesn’t help”

Alexia sighs, her hand reaching for yours. "We’re surrounded by people, but I’ve never felt so alone”

You look at her, the weight of her words mirroring your own feelings. "Me too," you admit, pulling your hand away.

For a moment, the connection between you feels almost tangible. But the pain is still there, a barrier neither of you knew how to breach. The love that had once been your refuge now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by loss and grief.

-

Nights are the hardest. The quiet hours stretch to the milky way and back, filled with the echoes of dreams that would never be. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of each day pressing down on you. Alexia’s presence beside you was both a comfort and a reminder of how far apart you have drifted.

Her snores keep you awake.

You slip out of bed and wander through the house. The nursery door stands ajar, a silent sentinel to your shattered life. You step inside, the faint scent of baby powder and fresh paint lingering in the air.

The cot stands in the corner, empty and pristine, a cruel reminder of what you had lost. You reach out, your fingers grazing the soft fabric of the blanket, and the tears you’d held back for so long finally break free.

The moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. Shadows dance on the walls, a silent audience to your sorrow. The room feels both alive and desolate, filled with the unspoken dreams and hopes you had cherished.

Their favourite colour will never be green.

You sink to the floor, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The silence is deafening, filled with the murmurs of laughter that will never be heard, the soft coos that will never come.

The final cry that haunts your mind.

You wonder how the world can continue to turn, how the universe can remain unchanged, while your life has been irreparably altered.

-

Spring is in full bloom, the world outside your window bursting with life and color. The garden is a riot of flowers, vibrant reds, yellows, and purples dancing in the gentle breeze. Birds sing their songs, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of blossoms. It is as if nature itself was mocking your grief, the beauty and renewal of the season a sharp contrast to the desolation you feel inside.

You stand at the window, watching as a pair of robins build a nest in the sycamore tree. Their industriousness, their instinctive drive to create and nurture new life, is a painful reminder of what you have lost.

Strong and steady, that’s what you need to be.

Though you're a leaf in the wind, ready to be carried away.

[n0t--fr3ya]

ALL I NEED

desc: dilf!art has just had an argument with female! reader and suddenly he's back in college, fighting then crying in her lap.

a/n: this is my first short lil story so tell me how it is!

ALL I NEED

- radiohead

The row had stemmed from Art's poor play during a doubles match earlier that day. As a former college tennis champion, you knew all too well how the pressure could get to someone. But it was hard to remain calm when you felt compelled to critique his performance in the spotlight. He watched you, his eyes darkening with frustration as you expressed your disappointment, and the conversation had quickly spiraled into something familiar—words sharp enough to cut, voices rising like the crescendo of a dramatic symphony.

Now, as you picked up a brush to smooth your hair, you couldn’t help but remember the late-night debates you shared during your college days. Those nights were filled with laughter and tears, joy and sorrow, each emotion woven through the fabric of your bond. You could still picture the scene—the cramped dorm room filled with the scent of popcorn and your favorite takeout, the tiny desk cluttered with books and tennis gear.

In a moment, the flashback hit him. Art’s mind slipped back into a busy college campus, wild thrill and youthful defiance pulsating in the air. You were sitting on his bed, eyes blazing as you argued fiercely about a match he had lost, his uncharacteristic mistakes due to overthinking. “If you just trusted yourself!” you had exclaimed, hands gesturing animatedly. “You play best when you’re not afraid to lose!”

And your words had struck a nerve. Art had folded his arms, staring at the floor, the silence laden with unsaid feelings. Moments later he had burst into frustration, “You think it’s that simple, don’t you? You’re perfect, and I’m just trying to keep up!”

The argument had escalated, voices growing louder as the tape of your history replayed itself—passions clashing, the competition between you fueling each fight. Eventually, it had ended with him sitting on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, tears spilling over as he uttered a heartfelt apology. You had rushed to comfort him, your arms wrapping around him as he cried out his frustrations, and the love that lingered between you both felt so real in those vulnerable moments.

Now, standing in your bedroom, Art’s recent mistakes echoed in your ears. You didn’t mean to get so upset. As you finished brushing your hair, the door creaked open, breaking you from your thoughts. Art stood there, his posture sagging, eyes glistening like polished agates.

“I... I’m sorry,” he started, voice small yet heavy, as if carrying the weight of a million apologies. “I couldn’t think about anything else.” The shimmer of vulnerability in his gaze mirrored the Art from college, reminding you how he struggled even then with managing expectations and his own inner critic.

You set down your brush and crossed the room. His eyes fell, avoiding yours, a flicker of shame evident in his features. “You don’t have to forgive me,” he mumbled, his hands trembling slightly as he toyed with the edge of his shirt. But you could see it—the turmoil roiling inside him, the remnants of the argument still fresh.

You reached out, gently cupping his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Art, look at me,” you coaxed softly, your voice a balm to the heated moment. “It’s okay to mess up. We all do.”

His breath hitched, a tear escaping down the side of his cheek. “It just feels like I let you down.” It was a soft confession layered with frustration and self-doubt, reminiscent of those college nights where emotions unfolded under the weight of expectation.

Without saying another word, you enfolded him in your arms, holding him tightly against your chest, as if you could shield him from all doubt. You both sank to the edge of the bed, the world outside fading into mere whispers. You could feel his heartbeat against your ribcage, each pulse a reminder of the love that had weathered storms even stronger than this.

“Remember the nights in college?” you whispered into his hair, fingers threading through his hair that eveyone loved so dearly before he cut his curls off. “We always made it through those arguments.” The warmth of your voice coaxed Art’s head to lift, his eyes searching yours like a sailor navigating by starlight.

“I remember,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder. “It was always so... intense.” His hands clutched the hem of your shirt, drawing you closer, as if attempting to bridge the distance the argument had forged.

You both reminisced about those fiery debates, where passion fueled your verbal sparring—the way you fought, not just with words, but with love, forging a bond deeper than the court’s surface. Each memory drew you closer, rekindling the warmth that had dimmed during the chaos of your argument.

As minutes unfurled into a soft embrace, Art finally broke down fully. The tears flowed freely now, a release, and you held him tighter as he cried out all the frustrations he had bottled up inside. “I’m scared,” he whispered in between sobs. “I’m scared I’ll never be good enough.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, your heart aching for him, knowing that he was more than enough for you. You whispered reassurances into his ear, cradling his head against your chest, physically grounding him as he battled his insecurities.

Eventually, you felt his breathing steady, the evening calming around you both. As you shifted slightly, his eyes fluttered shut, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. You lingered there, basking in the tranquility, the closeness—an intimate reminder that through turmoil and arguments, love thrived still, resilient as ever.

Your fingers brushed softly through his hair, tracing the familiar contours of his head, until, eventually, he fell asleep—exhausted but comforted, cradled in the arms of a love that had survived countless storms, still entwined in a life shared both on and off the court. The world outside faded, leaving only the sounds of his breathing, the heartbeat of a home built on passion, patience, and an enduring bond.

[earfqwake]

Alpha Killua/Brother X Omega/Sister Reader

Part 2

dark content warning: contains brother/sister love, yandere behavior, nsfw, explicit, you’ve been warned!! 🕷️

Killua can’t exist without Y/n.

It’s been close to two years since you and Killua presented at 16, and a lot had changed for you.

True to his word Silva no longer required Y/n to partake in the family business. The not so slight down side was that Killua’s work load doubled now taking more jobs then ever before. It pissed him off no doubt but more or less he didn’t seem to mind as long as you were safe and sound at home. You had tried arguing to Killua that he really didn’t have to and you didn’t want to burden him. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t hearing any of it.

So when you were informed by Father on this decision and it’s finality you instantly sought out your brother knowing he was the reason behind this. Staring into his eyes with softness only held for him you sighed, “Killu, you don’t have to do this for me! I can do this for you too, Im not some weak little girl anymore.” Embracing you in his arms he shook his head. “You and I both know this was for the best.. now you can spend your time doing things you actually want to do.”

Giving him a sorrowful expression you push away from his hug. He was always like this, trying to shelter you from the harsh realities of the world. But this was too much. “This isn’t fair to you though, how can I be happy knowing your risking your life out there solely for me.” Killua looks away and huffs out a deep breath clearly uncomfortable that he’s made you upset. Shaking your head you turn to go back to your father. “I’m going to ask Father to change his mind, I can do this to.”

At that he jumps to action and grabs your arm before you can fully turn making you face him. His reflexes are much quicker and his strength is rivaling that of Illumis already. That only upsets you more, how much has he suffered to get to this level of strength? Frantically he tries to reason with you his inner alpha being upset at the one he loves being distressed.

One of his hand gently holds your cheek directing your teary eyes meet his. “No! No, listen Y/n I told you I’d take care of you and I meant it okay? Just let me do this for you..please.” Melting into his touch I place my hand over his and hold it closer to my face. He’s letting out calming pheromones that envelope me whole but I still can’t help but cry.

Tears fall down my face and he quickly laps at them, a habit he created as a pup and has no desire to break yet. Not when you cry those pretty tears just for him, would be a shame to let them go to waste. “UhUh, no crying, you don’t have to cry anymore Y/n. ‘M gonna take care of my Omega, my little sister” Kil Mumbles affectionately as he catches each tear with a soft lick occasionally placing little kisses on your cheeks. Nodding in understanding you blink away any more tears now just lightly sniffling. In a small voice you answer to him, “You are too kind, always taking care of me! Wanna take care of you too Onii!”

Letting out a low growl of approval he nuzzles into the side of your neck breathing in your now calm scent. You smell sweet like peonies with a freshness like the air the morning after it rained and just so good. You smell like home, his home and only comfort in this harsh world he was born into. “You always take care of me baby, being so good for me. Gonna keep you safe until I can take you far away from here. You remember what I promised you?” He whispered just so you could hear him, placing small kisses on you loving the way you scent spiked with arousal. “Y-yeah I remember Kil”, Is your breathless reply as you lean your head to the side letting him swipe his tongue over your sensitive neck.

————————————————————————

~ 6 months prior ~

It was just another regular night for you, already having bathed and finished your night time routine. Skin soft and smooth with a slight glimmer from your lotion. Adorned in a matching set of pajamas that was pink with daisies all over them. A white lace trimmed cami top with shorts of to match that clung to your body perfectly. The moon shined through your window reflecting off the matching anklet and necklace Kil gifted you as you sat up in bed anxiously.

He’s been gone for an entire week now with Illumi doing a job he was tasked for, and it must’ve been dangerous if Father sent both of them together. Hugging a white cat plushie to your chest you sighed and layed in bed restlessly. Soon you slip into restless sleep but you awaken an hour later when you heard your bedroom door open up. Years of training made you instantly awaken and tense up until you saw who it was.

A freshly bathed Killua slipping into your bed in just sweat pants, he wraps his tired arms around you and sighs as he breaths in the scent of you that fills the room. Now he was finally home. Nuzzling your slightly startled face he smiles. Even in your sleepy state you give him a big tight.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, we just got back tonight. Go back to sleep.” Purring at finally being in his arms you pout, “I was so worried about you…” Smiling he plays with the heart shaped locket necklace that dangles from your neck ending just above your bust.

Flattered he hides his blush behind a quick witted joke, “You’re always worried about me cry baby.” It was true but you can’t help thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong when he’s gone for so long. Rolling your eyes and huffing you turn your back on him and cross your arms over your chest, “Well excuse me for caring. I’m going back to sleep then I have to leave out for my own task in a few hours anyways.” Grumbling Killua wraps an arm around you pulling you flat against his toned chest. Your smaller body fitting perfectly against his own. “And why wasn’t I told about this?” I giggle and turn my head to face his. “Because you would’ve tried to make PaPa give you this mission too, you need to rest Killua I can handle this it’s fairly simple and I should be back within the same day.”

Knowing I’m right he just lets out a irritated huff, but his expression quickly dissolved again when he heard my laugh again. Staring at my lips before looking down at the curve of my body slotted against his. And how your ass is just sitting perfectly on his bulge you feel his length twitch against you. I deadpan stare at him before busting out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me Kil ! Let go.”

Shaking his head no he traps me in his arms shoving his groin closer to me. Continuing to wiggle only makes him stiffen more letting out low growl he playfully bites your ear. Squirming at how it tickles you giggle more, “Ow Killu !!” Satisfied with my reaction and finally hearing my laugh for the first time in a week he smiles.

I feel myself swooning all over again, Im pretty sure there’s hearts in my eyes. And then he’s staring at my lips again longingly. The air in the room suddenly feels warmer and the smell of our arousal mixing makes me feel fuzzy. Starting to feel shy I turn my head away, “Kil, I really need to sleep now, and you need rest too…”

Ever so slowly, slides his hand that was holding my torso up my body until his hand rests comfortably on my neck. With light force he directs my face to meet his again and leans in. Tilting his head he furrows his brows in confusion, “I thought I told you that taking jobs isn’t necessary anymore. I don’t want my pretty girl getting hurt.”

Having him this close and feeling him twitch in his sweats against me is distracting. Suddenly I’m feeling almost breathless looking into his intense eyes. “B-but Killua, I want to help you and the family.” Again, he feigns a look of confusion yet still devouring me with his eyes alone. “You keep calling me by my name , that’s not what you usually call me baby. And why are you worried about them ? You should only worry about me, Onii knows what’s best for you, right ?”

Emphasizing his point he gives a soft squeeze of my throat, keeping his hips firmly against my back side, even as I try to discreetly rub my thighs together. “I-I’m not a pup anymore , I don’t call you Onii! You treat me like I’m a baby.” His eyes widen now almost as if in disbelief. He was gone for one week and you’re acting out.

Rolling his hips against me, I bite my lip to stiffle a moan. His hand trails back down from my neck to resting on my hip. “Oh you’re not my baby anymore ? Even though we’re older you’ll always be my little baby sister, but you’re right! Your a big girl now Y/n, Look at this pretty body..” His hand that was caressing your hip slides inbetween your thighs.

Slick now soaking through the light material of your sleep shorts has you gasping. Parting your legs for him automatically as he rubs over your slit . A deep growl of satisfaction is felt vibrating on your back, “Yeah that’s my big girl, so beautiful and so mine.” Feeling up your wet pussy through your shorts he stops to slowly rub against your aching clit. His breath felt warm against your ear as he whispers, “Your mine right Y/n-chan?”

Nodding my head as my eyes flutter closed, too busy focusing on the pleasure he was giving me. And although he was more composed than you he was slipping into that fuzzy head space too. Pleasuring the one he loves, bathing in her scent after being deprived for seven whole days of her touch. He couldn’t help himself from stealing a needy kiss from your lips, which you gladly returned.

His hips rhythmically rolling against you in time with how his two fingers rub at your clit. “So perfect for me,” Even as you moan he keeps your lips together swallowing them as he does with every bit of attention you give him. Selfishly. Possessive. Obsessed.

His grunts mix with your whimpers, he still won’t give up kissing at your mouth, you messily return kisses but the pleasure is just too distracting. Your hands cling to him to drag you down from the pleasure. One hand gripping his hair keeping his mouth close to yours the other grasping at his forearm. Not pulling him away from his motions, just wanting to touch him. “Perfect just for me, fuck Y/n.”

His face is flushed now, seeing you fall apart is enough to please him. Pressing one more sloppy kiss he pulls back reluctantly, but just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you with just a few touches. And oh man, it was almost enough to make him bust in his pants. Swollen lips glossy from your desperate kisses, eyes low from breathing in his scent and squirming from his hand rubbing up and down your cunt.

He groaned as he took the very last bit of restraint he had left to halt his rutting. Slowed his hand down before he removed it all together making you whine in confusion. Repositioning himself to kneel in between your legs with you on your back. Pushing your legs up and open so he could see the slick covered mess you two made. Drinking in your image only makes him thirsty for you.

From above you he looks so handsome, seeing his toned body that has built muscle never fails to make you feel flustered. Looking down you see how big he is,feeling it against you was one thing but seeing his outline in just sweat pants has you moaning. Your eyes both taking eachother in. It’s silent other than your breathing calming down.

You’ve curiously touched each other before, but never this far. Making out was as far as it went, and he was always handsy with you never wanting to let go of you. This is uncharted territory though, never having a boyfriend of your own to explore with, which was all apart of his plan.

Finally your eyes meet, his eyes are darker than usual. Love & lust is in the air and very hard to deny. Curious hands touching on eachother. Killuas hand teasingly rubbing your soft inner thighs as he holds them open. “Too perfect Y/n,” He whispers before interlocking both his hands with yours. It’s like time stops as he leans down again kissing you, but softer this time. He may struggle with expressing his emotions but it always comes through his actions.

His love for you being ever evident in his eyes, in each slow motion of his lips against yours. And his hips roll against you again but this time it’s slower, wanting to take his time. “It’s hard for me to control myself around you, but I’ll wait until it’s time. We’re gonna be mates Y/n, and I’m gonna take care of you...” Breathlessly you moan, your hearts are beating in sync, the love you two have for eachother is blossoming into something new.

Yet doubt shreds through. Killua notices the change in your scent and nuzzles into your neck to distract you with soft lips against your sensitive scent gland. “But w-what if it’s not you? We’ll never know until the day of our birth day.” He can’t help the growl that rips from deep within him. You? With anyone other than him? Please even if by some odd miracle his name wasnt revealed on your wrist he wouldn’t let you go. Never.

“Said your mine Y/n, no one else can have you, my mate. ‘M gonna marry you Y/n have you full of my pups.” The pleasure isn’t enough to distract you from all the what ifs. “Kil, my pups, I d-don’t want them to grow up like us. I couldn’t handle that!” You cry out to him, even as you feel these euphoric feelings of him stimulating you it’s bringing out a vulnerability within you. Nipping at your neck he sucks a decent sized bruise there. That’ll have to do until he can actually mark you.

Sighing he stops yet again, he wants you but not like this. Not when you are questioning your future together. For now he ignores how painfully hard and pent up he is and comforts you. Kissing up your jawline be presses kisses on your lips not wanting his baby sad. “They won’t baby they won’t… I won’t let them hurt you anymore. You listen to me okay.” Big eyes look up at him with tears threatening to fall.

“I promise you I’ll be a good alpha for you.. for our pups. They’ll have what we needed and more. But you’ve gotta help me help you. No more taking jobs , I’ll do it for you and you just wait for me. After we mate I’ll get us far away from here, anywhere you want to go.” At that your heart fills with joy, far away from Kukoroo mountain and your crazy family ? That’s a dream come true, but is it just that ? “Are you sure Killua? That we can live a normal life away from this?”

Nodding his head he smiles at you. Your smile brightens up the whole room and your scent doubling down as your happiness spreads through your whole body. “But you hold up your end of the deal, no more taking jobs Y/n I mean it, It’s too dangerous for you.” He says sternly but his smile still not leaving his face because seeing you happy just does that to him. Cracking his cold exterior down to nothing but dust.

Pouting you groan, “But I don’t like seeing you come back exhausted or possibly hurt.” Rolling his eyes his grin deepens as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a good thing you can heal me with your pretty tears, huh. You didn’t even notice the stab wound on my leg.” Gasping you wiggle out of his hold, pushing him backwards so you are now the one on top of him. Your lip wobbling as you feel frantically for where it might be at. “Killua why didn’t you tell me? I knew something happened.”

He doesn’t even flinch when you press slightly on his right thigh where you feel the bandage under his soft sweatpants. His eyes scan your face as you let you tears fall and hit his abdomen, your nen making quick work at the wound and in no time it’s gone. Frowning he sees your eyes still crying even though he can no longer feel the pain. “You worry too much as it is, I’m sorry I upset you pretty..”

Reaching one hand up to rest on your cheek and swipe at any more tears, his other resting on your thigh giving it a small squeeze. Wiping your eyes you rest your hand on where the wound once was smoothing it over. Still not meeting his eyes your other hand plays with the string of his sweats.

“Come on Y/n I’m sorry this won’t be forever.. I told you we’d leave this life together. I’ll take a thousand more wounds before I let you get hurt.” Only shaking your head you feel tears about to fall again. And he knows it soooo wrong but his dick jumps in his sweats wanting attention. Cooing he grabs your hands in his own “My pretty omega so worried for me, Im fine baby wanna see ?”

Your heart skips a beat, you’ve bathed together but never have you seen him before. You can only bring yourself to timidly nod at him, and he takes the initiative to guide your hands to the hem on his pants. They were already low hanging so you knew once you pulled them down exactly what you’d see. “Go ahead, you wanted to see that I’m not hurt right ?”

Swallowing hard you nod but still hesitated already seeing his happy trail of white hair. Tugging down his sweats he lifts his hips so you can pull them down further. Your eyes zone in on the bandage that was slightly tinted red on his right thigh. But in your peripheral vision you saw him, and you felt that ache in your lower stomach again.

Huge and hung, precum smeared on his tip from all the excitement and a vain running down the left side of it. Curly white hair at the base makes you want to touch him but you shake your head and go back to the task at hand. You frown and peal back the bandage to see a brand new scar to add to the many on his body. Atleast he was no longer hurt anymore, “O-okay Kil, it’s okay now you can cover up.”

Smiling he stops your hands as they reach to pull his pants back up and guides one hand to his member. “But what about right here Y/n ? I need your attention right here, it’s so hard for you” To emphasize his point he twitches in your palm. Placing his hand over yours he starts to stroke himself. Groaning his free hand up reaches up to squeeze one of your soft breast. “Come on I’ll show you what to do..”

Finding yourself rubbing your thighs together you almost moan at the sight before you. Seeing how handsome he was and being able to see him like this under you, your mate. Before you can say anything else the door slams open.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU LITTLE MINX !” Your mothers voice screeches at you. “How dare you seduce your brother to mate with you Y/n I am so disgusted with you!” I jump and back away until my back hits the backboard of the bed. Killua looks at me longingly and sighs like this is nothing but a inconvenience and tugs his sweats up. “Calm down you old hag, I came onto her first.”

Kikyo gasps and grabs Killua by the arm, hastily dragging him out the room, “Unbelievable Killua your father will be hearing about this!” That’s the last thing you hear before your door is slammed shut. I don’t move from my spot as I catch my breath and try to process what just happened.

It’s safe to say after that incident me and Killua were under heavy surveillance it was too risky being together.

————————————————————————

Even now, recalling the incident has you flustered for a multitude of reasons but you decide to block out the terrible ending to what would’ve been a great night. His sweet promise to you was what mattered. Taking you away, being mated, having pups. It was like a fairy tale and you hung onto those words religiously.

Coming back to your senses you try to put a end to his tongue attacking your neck already giving you hickeys in minutes. I gasp and push at his chest but he doesn’t budge. “Killua! Come on you’re going to get me in trouble..” Placing another sloppy kiss onto my now very wet neck he smiles proudly at his work.

“The last ones i gave you were going away.” Was his excuse as he admired your flustered face. “One week until our birthday can’t you wait ? just one week!” I say scolding him but my pleased scent betrays the front i put on. He snickers at the act you put on and nods in compliance. Taking your smaller hands, he places a kiss on each individual finger tenderly, before his eyes are staring into yours “Just one week so remember what i told you okay.”

Smiling at him you close the distance before you and he rests his forehead against yours lovingly as your purring fills the empty hallway. All peace comes to an end as you hear your mothers heals clicking along the corridor. Killua growls, he has done nothing to hide his feelings of disdain towards her since he was a child but you shake your head at him. Giving him a quick kiss to the cheek you two separate and watch as she turns the corner.

Halting she sniffs the air around her and scrunches her nose at the slight smell of arousal in the air. But one look at Killua and how he’s glaring at her already is enough for her to bite her tongue and hold any comments. Instead she clears her throat and smiles as she approaches you two. She dotes on you both, “My dear twins, my sweet babies ! Your birthday is approaching! Let’s go talk party details.” She says using the relevant excuse to come between you both and drag you elsewhere.

You spare Killua a glance and smile at him and thinking of his promise. And as if he is thinking of the same thing he smiles back genuinely.

Just one more week <3

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Mother's Defiance"

Masterlist

Summary: Agatha x Rio x Reader Where in the scenario Nicholas never happened but the reader did and Agatha beg Rio not to take them, based on the episode 9 of Agatha All Along -Chapter I

A/n: I'm weak for Agatha and Rio being mother's

===============================

The forest was silent and heavy with mist, as if nature itself had drawn a veil over this secluded place. Agatha stumbled through the dense thicket, her hand pressed firmly to her belly, her breaths shallow and rapid. She could feel it—the heartbeat within her growing faint, slipping further from her grasp with every painful step.

“Please… stay with me…” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur against the rustling of leaves and the cold whisper of the night air.

Ahead, the shadows seemed to twist and shift, growing thicker and darker. A familiar presence manifested from the haze—a tall, cloaked figure who moved with an ethereal grace, as quiet and inevitable as the night itself. Agatha’s breath hitched. She knew who stood before her without needing to look up.

Rio. Her love, her partner, her solace… and the very embodiment of death itself.

The two women locked eyes, and for a fleeting moment, all the memories they had shared seemed to pass between them—years of devotion, secrets and laughter stolen in dark corners, and promises whispered under starlit skies. But tonight, there was no warmth in the gaze Rio held; her face was calm, but her eyes carried a sorrow too deep to fathom.

Agatha sank to her knees, her fingers trembling as they clutched her abdomen. “No…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, not them.”

Rio stepped forward, her hand reaching out as though to steady Agatha, but then she hesitated, her fingers hovering in the cold night air. “Agatha, my love,” she said, her voice gentle yet unyielding, as steady as the ticking of a clock. “You know why I’m here. You knew this day would come.”

A sob escaped Agatha’s lips, and she doubled over, cradling her belly as though she could shield the fragile life within her. “Please,” she gasped, looking up at Rio with eyes full of tears and desperation. “They haven’t even had a chance… our child, our hope… they haven’t even seen the world yet.” Her voice trembled. “Don’t take them away from me. Not yet. Please, my love, not now.”

Rio’s expression softened, and she knelt down beside Agatha, her face a mask of quiet anguish. She reached out, her hand cupping Agatha’s cheek with a tenderness that betrayed the sorrow in her heart. “You don’t know how much it pains me to do this,” she murmured, her voice laced with grief. “If there were another way, I would take it. But the balance must be kept, and I am bound to my duty, even if it means…” Her voice broke, and she turned her gaze away, struggling to keep her composure. “Even if it means taking this from you.”

Agatha’s face crumpled as she grasped Rio’s hand, pressing it desperately to her face as if she could hold onto her love’s touch forever. “Then break the rules,” she whispered fiercely. “Just this once, my love. You’re Death, yes, but you’re also mine. I’ve risked everything for us. I would give my life, my soul, anything… just to keep our child safe. Please…”

Rio closed her eyes, a single tear tracing down her cheek. Agatha could see the conflict tearing her apart, the war between duty and love waging a fierce battle in her eyes. “To defy the laws of life and death…” Rio whispered, her voice as fragile as glass. “It could unravel everything. It could destroy us both.”

Agatha shook her head, her grip tightening as she looked at Rio with all the fierceness of a mother’s love. “Then let it,” she replied, her voice fierce and unwavering. “If it’s a choice between losing you or losing them, then let it be me who’s lost. Just don’t take them, my love. I beg you.”

Rio’s composure wavered, her face contorted with pain. She glanced away, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the night. “You know that I cannot deny you… not when you look at me like that. Not when you call me by that name.”

Agatha felt a flicker of hope, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Rio’s. “Please, my love,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw, aching desperation. “Save them. For me. Just this once.”

Rio’s shoulders slumped, the weight of her choice pressing down on her like the weight of the entire world. She reached up, cupping Agatha’s face in her hands, her thumb brushing away a tear. “If I grant this mercy… it will be borrowed, not forgiven. The debt will come due, and one day, I will have to return.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “When that time comes, nothing will stay my hand.”

Agatha’s tears streamed down her face, but she nodded, her voice breaking as she promised, “Then we’ll cherish every moment until that day. I’ll guard our child… with everything I have. Just give them a chance, my love. Please.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, Rio closed her eyes and began to murmur ancient words, a language older than the stars. The forest seemed to tremble, the shadows rippling as if in protest. Agatha felt a surge of warmth spread through her, and the faint heartbeat within her grew stronger, vibrant, a light against the darkness.

A gasp of relief escaped Agatha’s lips, and she sank into Rio’s arms, her sobs turning to laughter as she held her love close, clinging to the miracle that had been granted. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she buried her face in Rio’s shoulder. “Thank you, my love.”

Rio held her, her own tears falling silently as she pressed a kiss to Agatha’s forehead, a promise and a farewell all in one. “This life is borrowed, Agatha,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow. “One day, I will come to collect the debt, and no power will hold me back.”

Agatha pulled back, looking into Rio’s eyes with fierce determination. “Then I’ll protect them. I’ll protect us… no matter the cost.”

Rio’s fingers lingered on Agatha’s face, a final touch as the shadows began to pull her away, her form beginning to dissolve into the mist. “Until we meet again, my love,” she whispered, her voice carrying a promise of eternity. “Remember… I am yours, in life and in death.”

As Rio’s form faded into the night, Agatha clutched her belly, feeling the steady heartbeat within—a heartbeat saved by a love stronger than fate, bound by a debt that would one day come due.

The forest, now quiet, seemed to close around her as Agatha remained kneeling in the wet earth, her body trembling as she tried to catch her breath. The moment of peace didn’t last long.

Suddenly, an ache seized her body, sharp and overwhelming. She gasped, clutching her stomach, her eyes wide with fear. Her body, which had been so still just moments ago, seemed to come alive with the force of the contractions. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything she had felt before. It was as though her body was splitting in two.

“No… no, not now…” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she stumbled to her feet. The night air felt suffocating as her legs gave way beneath her. She dropped to the ground, pressing her hands against the earth, the sharp pain cutting through her like a blade.

The forest held its breath as Agatha cried out, her body betraying her with every agonizing wave. She could feel it now, the child within her, pressing against her, trying to force its way into the world. Their child. Her child.

Her tears mixed with the rain that had begun to fall, the forest around her alive with the sounds of her struggle. She gritted her teeth, her nails digging into the earth, willing herself to hold on, to keep fighting for the life within her. “You can’t… you can’t go… not yet,” she gasped, her voice broken.

With every scream, with every tear, the child within her fought to be born.

And then, with one final, overwhelming push, the pain shattered, and the cries of a newborn filled the air.

Agatha collapsed back onto the ground, her arms trembling as she pulled the tiny, fragile life into her arms. She held them close, feeling the warmth of their tiny body against her chest, their heartbeat a steady rhythm in the quiet night. She breathed in their scent, her heart swelling with a fierce love.

“You’re here…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re finally here, my love.”

The baby nestled against her, their cries fading into soft whimpers as they settled in Agatha’s embrace. She rocked them gently, her tears of joy mingling with the rain. For a moment, everything felt still. The world seemed to pause, and she held her child—her and Rio’s child—close, savoring the sweetness of this moment that had almost been taken from her.

And though the night was dark and the forest whispered all around her, Agatha felt a profound sense of peace. “I will protect you… with everything I am, my love. No matter the cost.”

________________________________________

A/n: Shall I turn this into a series?👀 Following the events of WandaVision and Agatha All Along???

[lazy-gyu]

TAGS: NSFW , DOMINANT TOP READER , SUBMISSIVE BOTTOM YANDERE , YANDERE FAE , SOFT YANDERE , KINDA LONG , MDNI

The forest was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of wood splitting under your axe, until a soft, heart-wrenching sob drifted through the trees. You followed the sound cautiously, the vibrant green canopy above casting dappled light on the ground. There, slumped against a moss-covered tree, was a man—no, something more, with his otherworldly beauty marred by a deep gash along his arm. His shimmering eyes, pools of sorrow and desperation, met yours, and for a moment, it felt as if the forest itself held its breath. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling like the wind through the leaves, “help me.”

you lifted the injured man into your arms, his weight surprisingly light, as though the forest itself eased your burden. As you brought him to your humble home nestled among the trees, his gaze never left you—soft, curious, and tinged with an unspoken gratitude. The gentle touch of your hands as you cleaned and bandaged his wound sent unfamiliar warmth coursing through him, a sensation both foreign and intoxicating. His heart, usually calm and steady like an ancient river, now raced wildly, each beat a whisper of a feeling he couldn’t yet name. Watching you work so tenderly, he thought, Is this what mortals call love?

___

As you slept soundly, he watched you, his heart racing with an unfamiliar warmth. The memory of your gentle care left him shy and overwhelmed, unsure how to face these strange feelings. When dawn broke, he quietly slipped away, the rustle of leaves the only sign of his hesitant farewell.

___

For weeks, the fae's quiet gifts continued, baskets of fresh fruits appearing like clockwork, always left in the same spot, always followed by his unseen gaze. His presence lingered in the air, a soft tension that both comforted and confused you. One afternoon, unable to bear the silence any longer, you tracked him down, cornering him in the dense forest. When his wide, shimmering eyes met yours, a wave of fear washed over him, his voice trembling as he whispered, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you…” The sight of him on the verge of tears softened your heart, and instead of anger, you pulled him into a gentle embrace, the scent of wildflowers and magic enveloping you both, as you held him close—no words needed.

___

After that moment, the fae became more present than ever, his shadow always trailing you, his steps quieter, yet more frequent. Every time you worked or rested, he would appear, lingering just a bit too close, his eyes never straying far from you. You couldn’t help but find it amusing, teasing him lightly. "You know," you said with a smirk, "I might start calling you my personal shadow at this rate."

His face turned a shade of crimson, eyes darting away, but he didn’t deny it. "I... I just like being near you," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

___

As you laughed and chatted with your friend, accepting the small bundle of loot they had brought, you caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye. There, hidden in the trees, the fae stood—his eyes locked on you and your friend, a storm of emotions swirling in his gaze. When your friend’s hand brushed yours, his usually calm demeanor faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flare of jealousy flashing across his face before he quickly masked it with a cold silence.

You could feel the change in the air, the once gentle atmosphere now thick with tension. Smirking, you turned to the fae, who had stepped forward, still trying to keep his composure. "What’s this?" you teased lightly. "Are you jealous?"

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, his voice betraying his frustration as he muttered, "I-I’m not... jealous. Just... concerned." The possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable, though, and the intensity of his gaze made it clear—he didn’t like seeing you with anyone else.

He's definitely jealous

___

The room was bathed in soft, golden light as you and the fae stood close, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a gentle kiss, the warmth of his touch making your heart race. His hands trembled slightly as they rested on your shoulders, as if he were afraid this moment might slip away. When you pulled back, his shimmering eyes locked onto yours, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I... I don’t know what’s happening to me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I’ve never felt this way before—jealous... scared..." His gaze dropped to the ground, his vulnerability raw. "I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know what I’d do." His words, filled with both sorrow and longing, made your chest tighten, his raw honesty stirring something deep within you. Slowly, you cupped his face in your hands, wiping away his tears. "You won’t lose me" you promised softly, your heart beating in time with his.

Without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go. His hands roamed over your skin, tracing the lines of your body as if memorizing every inch, every sensation. You could feel the weight of his emotions in the way he held you-his love, his fear, his desperate need to never be apart.

His creamy legs spread for you, his delicate hands holding up his legs to his shoulders. Soft, shimmering eyes gazed up at you lovingly, his gaze filled with adoration, as if you were the only thing that mattered—his human, his everything. Your possessive and rough hands holding his waist as you sank your cock on his pretty pussy. A whine left his throat as your cock stretched him, you can't help but notice how his pussy leak so much slick for your cock. Sweat dripping your forehead as you focus on his pleasure. Carefully and gently thrusting to him sweetly. His eyes tearing up, mouth agape and moaning your name softly. Your cock slides in and out of his pussy so gently making lewd noises for both of you to hear. He used to only watch you in the shadows and now both of you are connected and making love in your humble home.

His hands trailed gently down your arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Slowly, they moved up to your chest, then to the nape of your neck, where his fingers tangled in your hair. With a quiet, desperate need, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle, full of longing and intensity.

He pulled away just enough to gaze into your eyes, his breath shaky as his hands held you close, as if afraid to let you slip away. "You're mine" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't let anyone else have you—not when I know how it feels to have you all to myself." His fingers gently caressed your cheek, his gaze softening with affection. "Please, don’t ever leave me."

[lleldey]

The Broken Vow

Description: You met your husband when you were children, foolishly following the pull of first love. Nothing seemed impossible with him holding your hand; dreams and hopes at your fingertips. But when an accident happened, and you were left alone in this world, you learned how to rebuild it without him. Years later he’s back by your side, the only problem – he’s not too keen on having been replaced. It’s not your fault...right?

Warnings: manipulation, yandere, hospitals, divorce, mentions of death, angst, weight loss (not by MC), power corruption, self-condemnation. Please keep in mind this is a yandere story.

Word Count: ~13.5k

One-shot

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

Life is the biggest mystery of them all. You’ve promised yourself to never again take it for granted, yet now you wish the time to stop, and for you to disappear in it.

You don’t remember how you got here, the parking lot of the hospital seems eerily empty, the vacant lights illuminating the lone space. You rest your head against the seat and wish for whomever is upstairs to give you strength, you remember how you prayed years on end for this day to come, but now that it’s here, you’re at a loss of what to do.

Notifications from your phone light the car, and for the first time in hours, you pick up your muted phone and scroll through the countless messages and calls, some from unknown numbers, probably the medical staff, and some from people you tried your best to forget.

3.04 a.m.

You should’ve been here at least an hour ago, but the ride took almost twice as much as it should’ve. The speed of your car never nearing the limit, every yellow light stopped at, and every minute spent in silence. No music, no thoughts, just silence.

If it were to happen two years ago, you would’ve jumped in relief and happiness, thousand possibilities running through your mind, and body jittering in anticipation, but as you walk through the hospital door, you look around lost. Not sure where to go, not sure if you wish to go.

The reception stares right at you, and you know you should probably go there, but your legs mindlessly carry you to the waiting area. You sit down and look at the people around you, only a few give you company in the dead of night.

A woman sits in front of you, dried tears trace her face, as she clutches the hand of a man besides her. Probably her husband. You watch how he caresses her hand, while they mutter something under their breath, and fresh tears fall from her eyes. It looks like they’re praying. Should you be crying as well?

From your peripheral vision you see someone stand next to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying, as you continue to watch the sorrowful woman in front of you.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

You play with the gold ring on your finger, the jewelry calms your mind, as you mindlessly twirl it around.

Cough sounds besides you, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Not so far along you were in her shoes, the memory still fresh in your mind. How you sat in the seat for hours, crying and hoping for God to take pity on you. But now you pity the woman; she doesn’t know that the seat she’s occupying will soon become her second home.

A hand on your shoulders breaks your trance, and you look up confused as the nurse once again asks, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Only now you realize she’s speaking to you, and you’re quick to start, “No, no, I’m not-” but you catch yourself, and swallow your words as the realization hits you. No one has addressed you in such way for years, and her words trigger a distant past.

The woman looks at you expectantly, but all you manage to do is stand up and barely nod your head, as memories from years ago plays out in your head.

She outstretches her hand, a light smile graces her tired face, “Mrs. Jeon, I’m your husbands’ doctor, we talked previously,” you shake her hand, only half-heartedly listening to her words, and silently follow her lead.

“Your husband has been asking for you, and dare I say he’s very persistent,” she chuckles, and you butt in, “He’s awake?” she must’ve seen panic travelling through your body, as your hands start to shake and suddenly your surroundings seem grounded, the sleep like state ripped away like a bandage.

“He awoke 2 hours ago,” you stop near a door, laughter resonating from it, and you swear, the voices seem eerily familiar, “your family is with him right now, but he keeps asking for you.”

“His family is here?” she nods her head, and you’re not sure if you can do this. They don’t want to see you, the last time you spoke, you made his mother cry, and his brother chose to ignore your existence.

You drag your hands down your face, you must look a mess, hair sticking every way possible, and the pajamas mixed with your sneakers surely doesn’t help. You feel the doctor’s hand on your shoulder and with a squeeze she points towards the closed door.

Before she leaves, you grab her hand and mutter the words that keep ringing in your head, “How is this possible? Everyone said there’s no hope if I had known...” your words slowly fade, as you watch her with tearful eyes, hoping she’d understand.

“Your husband was taken for his annual checkup, and we noticed some…” she stops and thinks of the correct words, “elements that shouldn’t be present with his condition.” You nod your head, clinging to her every word, hoping that you weren’t at fault for this.

“We did some additional tests, and they came back positive for minimal consciousness.” She holds your hands when your lips began to tremble, “And after your agreeance, we gave him course of amphetamine, and now here we are.”

Her smile should’ve calmed you, but shame manages to creep up your veins; how are you supposed to face him? If he’s been asking for you, surely, he doesn’t know anything. Or perhaps he does and wants to see you begging for forgiveness.

The doctors’ steps slowly fade away, and you’re left with the door glaring daggers into your soul. You try to remind yourself that these are good news, you’d hoped for years on end for this day to come, then why does what’s hidden behind the door scare you so much?

You hear the voices of his family members through the walls, voices from people you used to call your own family. You haven’t talked to them for two years, even if some of them tried to reach out to you.

The room feels suffocating even through the door, you envision their judging stares, and harsh whispers. You lay your head against the door and try to calm yourself. Perhaps they won’t let you in, chase you away even before you step a foot in. But through the war in your head, you hear a soft voice, such a delicate voice you think your mind made it up.

Tears spring to your eyes, as you realize it’s truly him; ever since the doctor called you, all you could think of was his family, the possibility of him being awake seemed so unimaginable, that you didn’t dare to hope.

His voice calls you like a melody, the soft hums you longed to hear for one last time. Gently you open the door, and the room falls silent, distasteful looks thrown at you from every corner. Slowly you step in, still keeping the door open, you wrap your hands around your body when you notice how elegant everyone looks.

What else could you expect from the Jeons? Makeup in the middle of night, suits and silk dresses are a norm, you should know, this was your life not so long ago. You try to soothe down your hair, while stuttering, “H-Hello,” you don’t await a response, and feel yourself caving in further, the dark gazes you expected are overpowering, and you’re close to running out of the room.

“Can I come in?” you try, you truly try to make this less awkward, but you hear your voice quivering, and their heated stares make you turn to the door, longing for a breath of air.

Before you manage to run out of the confined space, Jungkooks’ mom steps up, and approaches you, “Child, I’m so happy to see you,” she grabs your hands, and you manage to smile back, at least someone in this room doesn’t hate you.

Your relief is short lived, as a man’s voice comments from the front of the bed, “Took her long enough” Your gaze drifts to him, as Jungkooks mother scolds him, and you hear a familiar voice, hidden between the sea of people, disapprove as well, “Jin, don’t speak to her like that.”

Your breath hitches, and you try to look past the bodies hiding him from your view. Involuntarily your lips start to tremble, all you manage to decipher is his raven black hair and hand that tries to shoo his family away from blocking you, but that is enough for tears to trace down your cheeks.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and your gaze snaps back to his mom, and her sympathizing smile makes your tears fall down quicker, “All right everyone, let’s head out, and give them some space.”

You start to protest, as much as you wish to see him, you’re also afraid. You don’t know how much he knows, but your hands tremble from the idea of seeing him for the first time in years. Jungkooks mom stops you before you manage to say a word, “You’ve some explaining to do, and we must start preparing for court.”

Your eyes snap to her, and with furrowed brows you mutter, “You’re suing them?”, and the room fills with arrogant chuckles, “They took my baby away for years, of course we’ll sue those incompetent doctors.” She states while longingly looking towards the hidden bed.

Jin shoots you a grimace and mutters as he passes you by, “That’s the least we can do, they don’t deserve their certificate. Those doctors should not be allowed to step near a patient ever again.” He stops by the door and looks you over, suddenly your shoes seem like the most interesting thing in the world.

“They should know what happens when you mess with Jeons.” His words feel directed not only to the poor professionals. They should know indeed, and if they don’t, then they’ll have to learn the hard way. That much you can say from your own experience.

Jungkooks mom stands besides Jin, and pats his cheek while muttering, “You’re right son, now that both my babies are back, they’ll see why you don’t mess with attorneys.” You choose to stay quiet; they can barely stand your existence as it is, you doubt that they would overlook you going against them again.

Silence entails once more, as everyone leaves the room, you don’t miss how they keep a great distance passing you by, as if the mere presence of you disgusts them. But this was to be expected, and you stand still, not looking up till you hear the door close.

It takes a good minute for you to gather yourself and look up, but when you see him lying in the bed awake, looking at you with the love filled smile he used to give you, the barely patched up walls of your heart break, and you cover your mouth to silence the sob that wrecks your body.

Your feet carry you closer to him, and you stand by the bed, body shaking and tears falling. His hand reaches out to you, trying to comfort your restless mind, and you throw yourself in his embrace, the soft huff and chuckle rumbling his chest.

His heart beats against your own, and you pull him closer, not fully believing that you’re not dreaming. Hidden in his chest you whisper, “Is this real?”, but the hand that caresses your hair confirms your suspicion, this is real.

The countless years spent lying on his chest, praying that one day he awakens and embraces you like he used to leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, and you pull away just enough to see his bright eyes and gentle smile, and fall back into his chest, cherishing the moment at hand.

He leaves soft kisses on your head, and you let tears fall freely on his hospital gown, you forgot how warm his skin is, how comforting his touch is, the lonesome years left you with nothing but the far memory of it.

“Has it truly been seven years?” his voice sounds scratchy, his vocal cords vulnerable from all the years spent in silence. You raise your head to look at him, tears still falling, and caress his face noting the beard that has taken its place.

You nod your head and shakily mutter, “Almost eight”, to be precise seven years and two hundred and fifty-seven days of him laying motionless, unaware of his surroundings and your breaking heart. Jungkook heaves a sigh, and you lean into his touch, relishing his warm hand drawing patterns over your cheek.

He carefully examens your face, taking into account every detail and new wrinkle, “You look-”, playfully you groan, and sniffle, “Old? Like a train wreck?” to which he chuckles, and you can’t help yourself but do the same, you haven’t heard his laugh in so long, the sound almost hypnotizing.

“I was going to say beautiful,” you shake your head at his teasing grin, “God truly took his time on you, age suits you well. I just wish I was here to see it; it feels like only a day has passed, yet everything has changed.”

Your smile slowly fades, oh, he has no idea how much everything has changed, but you don’t wish to break his heart, so you opt to cheer up the dampening mood, “And you look like a cave man”

You brush your fingertips against his beard, something he used to keep track of to never grow out. His hair is also noticeably longer, brushing past his shoulders. You used to be the one who cut it, and shaved his face, but you haven’t been here for almost two years.

His hand moves to your chin, and your heart stutters; even though years have passed, he still acts like the man you loved, bringing you closer by your chin to kiss you. Now quickly realizing his motive, you back away and mutter, “We should probably do something about it, there must be shaving cream somewhere nearby”

If he notices the distance you created, he chooses to ignore it, a light furrow of his brows all is seen, before it morphs into a smile once more, “And here I thought you promised to love me for better or worse, even when I turn into a cave man”

Your heart sinks at his words, even though they are true, you’ve no clue how to even start to explain how you broke your vows, crumbled them like a piece of paper. You start to get up in search of a nurse, but Jungkook quickly stops you and presses a button, to which one quickly comes in and leaves in search of Jungkooks demand.

You sit back in a chair and enjoy his silent company while you wait for her to come back, seeing him conscious, breathing and back to his normal self is more than you could’ve asked for, and you can’t stop the tears that grace your waterline.

“I felt like I was going insane while waiting for you. Jin said you moved to another city...?” his questioning gaze looks over your features, and you distantly hum, when the nurse comes back and leaves a small bowl of water, razor, and some shaving cream.

Gently you start applying the cream on his face, and you feel his eyes burning, trying to catch your gaze. Continuing your work, you start to explain, careful with your wording, as the subject entails more than you wish to tell, “It was hard being there alone. But I didn’t sell it if you’re worried about that”

Understandingly he nods his head, and you cup his chin while gently scolding him for moving, afraid to accidentally cut his skin. You see his muscles morph into a smile, and you stop your movements, and look him in the eye as you shake your head with a smile of your own.

You lead the razor gently over the white foam and see glimpse of his youthful skin hidden behind it, “I can’t wait to go back home with you, these hospital beds will give me a backache like no other. Our bed is far more comfortable, not to mention you, who’s the softest pillow to exist.”

You press your lips together, and tightly smile; silence might be the best answer for now. You let his dreams carry on, couple of years ago you would’ve fallen into them with him, but now, you know you can’t afford to do so.

But the sparkles that coat his eyes are too bright and tender for you to extinguish, yes, you are selfish, you allow yourself to live in the fantasy-esque world that Jungkook desperately tries to pull you in, even just for a moment. You lost him for so long, barely found a footing in this world alone, but now that he’s here, the idea of losing him again hurts more than words could entail.

Jungkook is no fool, he sees that something is amiss. Your tense body, and pursed lips tell him that much. He tries to be gentle, it’s understandable that you’re confused, after all almost 8 years have passed. But it irks him when you refuse his touch, doing so seamlessly, that one might not even notice.

But someone isn’t Jungkook, he’s your husband, and has been your lover for six years before the accident. The past few hours have been dubious; at first everyone was elated, tears filled the room as more and more people came in.

But with each time the door opened his patience tinned out, they weren’t you, and as much as he was grateful to see everyone, the one he truly longed for wasn’t there. He tried to calm himself, he knew that you’re well and somewhere nearby, as the doctor said they talked to you, but every time he brought you up, the room turned silent, anxious looks passed by everyone present, till they ended the subject with, hopefully she’ll be here soon, and you’ll understand everything.

Now, what was ‘hopefully’ supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry about Jin, I don’t know what came over him” he starts, carefully observing your movements, but you tick your head, and forcefully shake the razor in the bowl. “He’s your brother, he was only looking out for you.”

“But you have great relationship, he shouldn’t speak to you like that” the sad smile that graces your lips makes him even more confused, “We did. But after you-” you sigh and drop the razor in the bowl, and grab a towel, softly wipe the residue off his skin “A lot has changed, I had a falling out with your family”

You focus all your attention on patting his skin dry, but his hand stops yours, and when you look up you see the light panic clouding his eyes, “How is that possible? Is it because of the accident?” you shush his rambling, and smile while caressing his jaw, “Don’t worry about it, at least now you’re no longer a cave man.”

He huffs, but you don’t pay it any attention, just appreciate his smooth skin that seems radiant in comparison to the last time, when you said your goodbyes to him. You allow him to play with your fingers, and don’t even notice when he pulls your hand closer to his face.

“Why are your fingertips cut? Do they hurt? Your skin isn’t as smooth as it usually is…” you laugh at his zeroed-in attention on your fingers, and with adoration explain, “I’m used to it, I work as a hairdresser now, and every once in a while, help out in a farm”

His facial expression is one for the books, he starts to sit up, and anxiously you try to stop him, but he stubbornly ignores your protests while cradling your hand to his heart, “What the hell did I miss? A hairdresser? But what about photography, it’s your dream!”

You nibble on your lip, while trying to think of a way to calm him down, this much stress surely isn’t good for his body, “Photography doesn’t pay the bills. I couldn’t stay here, Kook. I moved out and this was my only option.”

As much as you try to soothe him, your words go amiss, he shakes his head, thousand thoughts travelling through it, “I don’t get it, you had my trust fund, you shouldn’t have to worry about bills”

He tries to understand, he truly does, but something doesn’t add up, and it keep him on the edge. You move closer to him, and sit on the bed next to him, hoping that it would ease his mind, “They cut me off,” before Jungkook starts to panic, you continue, “we got into an argument, and that was my decision, I stand by it.”

Jungkook shakes his head and opens his mouth, but nothing comes from it. You watch how he falls back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’ll handle it. I should’ve taken care of you, and I failed.”

You shake your head, “Don’t say that. Just promise to never again touch a motorcycle in your life.” He takes your hands in his own and presses kisses all over while repeatedly mumbling, “I’m sorry”

“It must’ve been so hard for you. I’ll get discharged, and we’ll move back into our own place, everything will be back to normal. You won’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Nothing will ever be the same, but he’s clueless. Your heart clenches as you realize you have to tell him the truth. He’s living in the idyllic life you created years ago, oblivious of how broken it now is. You have to tell him.

You straighten you back and ready yourself for what’s to come, “Jungkook, I-” But before you manage, he stops you

“What’s that?”

You follow his gaze, and your breath hitches. “That’s my ring, Jungkook.” His grip tightens around your fingers, and very slowly grits out, “That is not our wedding ring”

His gaze travels to your own and noticing the tears clouding your gaze his eyes narrow, “No, it’s not. But it is my wedding ring.”

Silence overtakes the room, but his eyes don’t stray from you, unblinking, frozen, trying to make sense of what you’ve told. “You cannot remarry when you’re already married. To me, might I add.” He articulates every word slowly, as if speaking to a child, and you shake your head and somewhat shamefully mutter, “We’ve been divorced for almost three years”

His neck slowly turns red, and his muscles are strained, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. You feel the doom coming, and you try to make him understand, “Jungkook, please understand. You were basically dead, and I waited for years but I-”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married to someone else” his voice raises, and you feel the words vibrate through your body, “Jungkook,” is all you manage to whimper.

“You are my wife,” he hits his chest, “My wife, what are you even talking about?!” at this point he’s screaming, and you try to shush him to no avail.

His words become distant, once you see tears streaming down his cheeks. His hand is wailing around, neck strained and face red, and forcefully he pulls you closer by the hand he’s still gripping with full force.

You don’t hear the nurses running in, your eyes zeroed on his enraged state, he tries to push them away, and you force your hand out of his, to try and move away. But your actions don’t go unnoticed, as Jungkook close to lunges toward you.

Everything becomes white noise, and you see everyone screaming, nurses barely able to hold him back from you. He fights against their grip, but his body is frail, and the pool of workers press his body down, all while he scratches, screams and throws pillows every way possible.

Distinctly you hear one of them scream about sedating him, and your body finds the last bit of strength to run out of the room. But you don’t get far, as just outside you bump into his doctor, the poor woman looking over your shoulder astonished, as everything progresses downhill.

You hear him scream your name time after time, but you look at the woman in front of you, and cry out, “I can’t be here, take me off his medical proxy,” You’re out of breath, and you try to mutter a legitimate sentence over your cries, “Ask his brother, anyone, just please-” your words fade, and the woman stares at you in shock, but Jungkook keeps calling your name, and you can’t bear to hear his broken cries. He sounds like a wounded animal, and the sound chills you to the bone.

You push past her and run towards the exit, from your peripheral vision you see his family crowded around the hall, but you don’t stop, even when you hear their voices mixed with Jungkooks shouting after you. You have to get out of here.

Your body moves on its own accord, and perhaps your stressed mind is playing games with you, but you feel someone running after you. Jungkooks cries echo through your mind even when you find yourself in the parking lot, hands shaking, trying to unlock your car.

With trembling hands, you try to ignite the engine, but it won’t start up, frustrated, you hit the steering wheel with your palms, and pray that this isn’t the time your car decides to give up. With a look to the hospitals entrance, you see a dark silhouette running out, you were right, someone was indeed chasing after you.

Praying that they won’t notice you, you sink into the seat, and try to start up your car once more, it takes couple of seconds, but when it does you heave a sigh, and see that the person noticed you only now, headlights turning you in.

You don’t wait to find out who it is, or what they want from you, swiftly you press the gas pedal, and rush back home.

04.46 a.m.

If the road to the hospital took you almost three hours, now you don’t care if you’re speeding, only thing you wish for is to be in your husbands’ arms and cry your heart out. Yes, perhaps you missed a couple of red lights, but you’re too far gone, lost in the labyrinth of your mind to care.

06.10 a.m.

The edges of the clouds shine in golden sparkles, and the darkness slowly dissipates, as sun makes itself known. You drive through the depths of forest green, the car wobbles on the bumpy road, but you feel the end of your misery, as you see glimpse of your home in the distance.

Your body feels frozen, every action robotic, your goal the only thing in mind. You stop the car near the entrance of your home, the stone walls of the house seem lament, and you step out of the car, finally able to take a deep breath.

The door opens, and the gray monotone vanishes, once you see your husband. He looks visibly nervous, but he tries to smile to ease your mind. “How did it go?” his hair is disheveled, and eyes drowsy, it looks like he couldn’t sleep, anxiously waiting for you to come back.

You take a deep breath, and ready yourself to explain how horribly everything transcribed, but all you manage is to whimper “Tae,” before you run into his warm embrace, and let the dam of tears loose.

He caresses your head, and rocks you from side to side, you’re not sure how long you spend like this, you, hyperventilating on his chest, and him, embracing you in his warmth, trying to hold his own tears in. But when you calm down, and look up, the sky is baby blue, sun rays blinding you.

~

Some say you can’t avoid things you don’t want to deal with, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

For the past week, you’ve buried yourself in work, either at the hair salon, or, more so, helping Tae with farm work. Now more than ever you relish his company, his touch and gleaming smile helps you forget about everything else.

But with ignorance comes sloppiness. You can’t count the number of times you’ve accidentally cut your fingers, while trimming someone’s hair, or daydreamed while coloring hair, only for the end result being a two shades different color.

On top of that, Tae’s farm has gotten multiple complaints, so it made sense for you to clock out of work to help him. You’re applying the last bit of color on clients’ roots, every once in a while, humming along her story that, if you remember correctly, is of how her son drove her car in a ditch.

You make sure the color is blended in evenly when your phone rings. After the events in the hospital, your phone was flooded with messages, and the constant ringing was too much for both you and the phone, as it continued to glitch out.

You contemplated the idea of changing your number, but the next day complaints started coming in, and you decided that this isn’t the best time, both financially, and in case someone needs to reach out to you about that. And even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself, somewhere deep down you knew that won’t stop him. But Taehyung advised you to mute everyone’s notifications except for his, and so far, the proposal has worked perfectly.

Quickly you apologize to the woman, and pull off one of the gloves, while answering the phone, “Hi, honey. I’m working, is everything all right?”

His voice comes out rushed, and your smile fades, as you try to understand what he’s saying, “Can you slow down please, I can’t hear you”

He takes a deep breath and this time you manage to hear what he’s rambling, “Okey, I’ll be there soon, we’ll figure something out.” The line disconnects, and you curse under your breath, this isn’t good.

Moving into action, you grab your things, and turn towards one of your colleagues, while packing “Can you please take over my client? I have an emergency, and all that’s left is to wash her hair and style it” you ramble and look at her with puppy eyes.

“Which time is it this week? You can’t drop all of your clients on me” you clasp your hands together, and do your best to give her puppy eyes, but she rolls her eyes.

“I know, but it’s very urgent. Tae’s about to get sued, and he needs me”

She looks at you with a pitying gaze, “This one last time. Next time please remember that I also have a family to go back home to”

Quickly you kiss her cheek and turn to the exit, but you should’ve known that it won’t be this easy. Red fury, or rather, your boss stands at the aisle with a disapproving gaze. Before she starts to protest you butt in, “I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s truly an emergency. I promise once this is over, I’ll take double shifts, but please understand”

She looks nonchalant, and somehow you think that’s worse. She doesn’t scream, or scold you, but simply shakes her head, already given up, “Go,” quickly you thank her, but before you manage to exit, she notes over her shoulder,

“You haven’t been clocking in the hours. If this continues, I won’t have another option but to fire you.”

One foot out of the door you stop, at this point this job is your only income, but you make your decision, as your rush towards the car.

You try to convince yourself that there’s no other option, your husband needs you. You’ve already broken your previous vows, and sure as hell won’t do that again. After all you promised, for better and for worse.

One good thing about living in a village, everything is reachable in spam of minutes. But as you speed down the road, the idyllic ambience and joyous people make you feel like you’re suffocating.

This was never what you wanted, you enjoyed the bustling crowds and big cities dreams, but then the ground disappeared under your feet, and you were left all alone, lost, with no one there to ground you.

But then you met Taehyung, and he gave you another chance in life, even if it was the furthest thing from your reality. You could be the friendly neighbor who talks about her children morning-night. It never was your dream, but it is enough, because you have him.

You rush out of the car in search of him, for once thankful of your small home, as you quickly find him in the living room buried in scattered documents and disheveled hair. Once he notices your presence, he lifts his head up, and you kneel in between his legs to wipe his tears.

“What’s going on, Tae?” he shakes his head, and tries to calm himself. “They are suing me, and I don’t know what to do.”

When you left for work, things weren’t great, but they weren’t necessarily bad. You thought that this was another situation that would pass with time, but now you’re stuck, how could everything change so drastically in a few days?

“A little girl is lying in hospital because of me,” you shudder a breath and quickly stop him, “This isn’t your fault-”, he interrupts you, “But it is! I changed the supplier for a cheaper one, all the complaints, their health is on me!”

It doesn’t add up. He changed it two months ago, why are there problems all of a sudden? You watch his devastated face expression, at a loss of what to do to make everything better.

“Now, I have to compensate costumers, pay the workers, and find attorneys. I’ve already stopped all production, but I can’t fire everyone, they depend on me. I can’t believe I’ve ruined my family’s business.” He shakes his head, and you draw patters over his knee, not sure what to say, just listening.

“And I have no clue where to find resources for everything. I’ve already paid out most of our savings, and it’s just been a week. I don’t know what to do with court, you know how hard it’s to get attorneys.”

A thought strikes you, a possible solution to this whole thing. But you shake your head, as you realize what that would take out of you, you’re not sure if it would serve for better or worse. You rest your head against his knees, and think over the possibilities; you’re the last person he wants to see, you’re sure of that, but do you have a different solution?

But his screams still echo through your head, and you’re not sure if you can go through it again. But you have to try, for Tae.

“I might have a solution for that.” Confused he searches your eyes, and realization dawns upon him. Taehyung quickly gets up and starts pacing around the room. “I’m not putting you through that.”

“He’s our only option. There’s a reason why they’re the best attorneys in country. Worst case scenario, he can give us contacts or dismiss all together.” You don’t voice out the thought that he could indeed do worse, you’re not sure of his emotional state, but judging by the last time when multiple nurses had to hold him back from you, you’re going in blind. And honestly, you don’t blame him, you are at fault for his misery.  

“Alright, but I’m coming with you.” A humorless laugh escapes you, “No, you’re not. He might be unwell, but if he sees you, rage will consume him. You didn’t see what I saw, he doesn’t want to see me honey, let alone you.”

Silence consumes the room, and you know that it’s agreed upon. You have to do this for Tae, and you know you’ve to talk to Jungkook. As much as you’d like to pretend the past 20+ years of your life didn’t happen, you can’t do that. You love him, but you can’t afford to do anything about it. You’re divorced, and that was your doing.

Turns out you can’t hide from things you don’t want to deal with.

~

You’re not sure if this is the right call; it’s been 5 minutes of you standing frozen in front of the door of a place you once called home. Not a single thing has changed, even the doorman recognized you, never mind that years have passed.

You calm yourself (rather try to convince yourself) that everything’s all right. You hoped that Jungkook would deny your request of meeting up, or rather not pick up the phone in general, but he answered on the first beep of the call.

The conversation wasn’t pleasant - even awkward - no pleasantries exchanged. You take a deep breath remembering the lone sentence he muttered during the phone call, “Are you coming back?”

Seeing him brought up memories and feelings you did your best to burry, most prominent one – guilt. You remember the incident at the hospital; how hard you tried to pretend as if nothing has changed, till the truth came out, and you saw his desperate eyes pleading for it to not be true.

Guilt you felt that moment was consuming, you knew that it’s your fault, so you ran. But somehow that didn’t help, only amplified the gut-wrenching pain of leaving the one you love behind, in pain and hurt.

But you comforted yourself with the knowledge he has a crowd of people by his side – they can patch up the tear you made. He doesn’t need you.

And as pathetic as it is, you’re afraid of stepping into the apartment. Isn’t it ironic, you’re the one who’s hurting him, yet you’re afraid of how you’ll feel. Selfishness at its best.

Straightening your back, you knock on the door, silence greets you, and after good 30 seconds you try again. When nothing happens, you try the door handle – it’s unlocked.

Door opens and the comforting smell of your home envelopes you, even if no one occupied it, somehow, it’s still drowning in the smell you seeked comfort in – your washed-out scent mixed with Jungkooks.

Slowly stepping in, you shudder a breath; you’re transported back 7 years ago, the creamy walls and coat racks filled with both of your jackets, messily thrown out shoes in the hall, and photography’s of your small family decorating the walls.

You close your eyes and envision Jungkook coming behind you to help you shrug off the coat, and give you a kiss on the cheek, while hugging you from behind. Just like he always did. The memory seems so tangible yet so far away.

But you open your eyes to the vacant hall, dust particles coting the furniture. Cold seeps under your skin, and you remind yourself of reality. Calling out Jungkooks name is useless, as silence welcomes your nervous state, but your body leads you to the living room, sort of déjà vu coaxing you to go there.

And just like you thought, he’s there. Overlooking the cities horizon, standing still besides the window, even when you address him.

“How are you?” you try to start a conversation and move closer and sit at the couch far enough from his reach, yet close enough to see his stiff body. But his back is turned to you, and he doesn’t give you the least bit of attention. “Door was unlocked, hope you don’t mind me barging into your home…”

“Our home” he’s quick to interrupt, awkwardly you shift weight from foot to foot, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright-” his hollow laugh makes you pause, not sure what to do. His emotions far too intense to what you’re used to, his aggravated scoff makes you sink in with guilt, the gentle mannerism he always bestowed hidden behind waves of betrayal.

Now looking at him through the reflection of the window, you can see he is not the man you’ve known and cherished dear to your heart. His body looks frail, you’re afraid that a stronger breeze of wind will make him break.

But still, your heart cries out for the past. And if it didn’t feel real beforehand, now it does.

He is wearing the sweatpants you bought him years ago, when you first moved into your apartment and decided to paint the walls yourself, you can still see washed out splotches of blue and white on them. Only now the pants are way too big for him, barely hanging on his hips, threatening to fall off any second. His shirt swallows his whole body, pitifully hanging from his shoulders, with no muscles or fat to cling on to.

“You left me. You threw me out the first chance I wasn’t of value to you anymore.” His words hurt you more than imaginable, and as much as you know that’s not the truth, you let him talk. You deserve to hear what you have done.

“And now I have nothing. No job, no home, no purpose, no-” his breath shutters before he whispers, “no one to come back to.”

“All I have is money and this empty space. Space that we built for our family.” He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Before you chose to exchange it for that low-life.”

You know what you have done is immoral, but your husband has done no wrong, only nothing less than hold you through these last horrid years.

“Jungkook stop. Please, don’t mix him into this, you know nothing about him-”

He turns to you, and you realize you mistook his anger for pain. His face is scrunched up, brows furrowed and eyes hollow with undeniable rage. You don’t recognize the person in front of you, the soft eyes you longed to gaze at one last time are long gone. And you can’t blame anyone else, but yourself.

He looks older, the dark circles beneath his eyes undeniable, the wrinkle that seems to be taken place in between his brows. And the sharp cheekbones that pinch through his skin. He looks unhealthy, his skin colored in yellowish tone.

“Don’t I? Aren’t you here because he lost his job? Because his dirty secret has come clean, and no one wants to be associated with him?” He steps closer to you.

“Because you want to beg me, your husband to take a pity of your side dick, and give him a job?” As he progresses towards you, you’re able to see how his body trembles, and at this point you don’t know if it’s due to his rage or unwell body.

“He’s not able to take care of himself, let alone you.”

“Am I wrong?”

Looking at his disheveled body, you know you can’t lie to him. You’ve done things you promised to never do in your vows. You hurt him, and you left him. And that’s the greatest pain one can cause another.

But you’re left confused. He knows. But how does he know? Has he been keeping tabs on you?

“Jungkook. Do you have any part in this?” You’re afraid to ask, the answer already looming in his previous words.

“And here I was hoping that my wife still cares for me. That she came to visit me, her husband, who has been almost dead for years.” He shakes his head with a scoff, and you look away.

“But no, she’s more worried about her affair. She doesn’t even care.”

“You know that’s not true.” You bite back your tears. There’s nothing you can say to make it better. You play with your fingers in your lap, too ashamed to look at him.

“Isn’t it? Because I’m here, waiting for you to turn up. And my wife isn’t even bothered to show when I’m being discharged. My wife doesn’t even care I wish I’d be dead, then live with the knowledge that she’s sleeping in someone else’s arms, living the perfect life we promised each other.” His voice breaks, but you still refuse to look at him. He’s crying, breaking down in front of you, and he has every right to do so, because you betrayed him.

Silence drags on, you, not able to look him in the eye, while he shakily breathes out, trying to stabilize his breaking heart. Pacify himself from the reality he’s welcomed to.

“But you know, I’m not sad. I’m angry.”

“I thought about killing your boy toy.” Frightened, you look up, “You know we have contacts for that, hundreds of them lining my phone, hoping we’ll help them in exchange for a favor. But then I thought, what a great feeling it would be to dig my nails through his skin, watch as the life trickles out of him, and smile, when his blood drowns my skin.” You rush to him, hoping to awaken him from his dulled thoughts.

But as you stand in front of him, you’re afraid to touch him, and the thought drives the knife in your heart deeper. You’re afraid to touch the man you promised to love for eternity. The man your heart yearned for years.

“And I want you to feel every bit as I do. I want you to hurt, the same way I do. I want you to see the world crumble beneath your feet and know that there’s nothing you can do about it.” His overbearing frame casts shadow over your form, and you mingle your hands together, trying to stay strong.

“But then I realized, that would be too easy. And you wouldn’t get your lesson. As it turns out, you still don’t know that wife doesn’t disobey her husband.”

“I have always been there for you. And now, you will see what it means, when I stop taking care of you. Because now, you can’t do anything, and I can do everything.”

The promise in his eyes scars you, but when you see the first tear trickling down his cheeks, when you see the hurt you bestowed upon him, nothing else matters except for him.

You watch how he starts to hyperventilate; his body shakes uncontrollably and his face pales. And the moment his knees buckle, your haze is broken, and you catch him in your arms. Panic overtakes every nerve in your body, and you call out for him, only to feel his tears on your shoulder.

You try to move his face towards yours, but he stubbornly shakes his head, hiding in the crook of your neck. “Jungkook, honey,” your voice trembles, “we have to get you to the couch,”

His heart pounds aggressively against your chest, you can’t muster what he sobs in your neck, his cries overpower any possibility of deciphering what he says. You feel your pulse in your ears, and you’re close to succumbing under his weight.

“Please, you have to lay on the couch.” You’re powerless, your own tears cloud your sight, the only thought running through your mind is to get him to safety. You move your hands around his waist, and you thank the gods, as Jungkook seems to hear your words, and weakly takes a step towards the seat.

To see a man, you love crumbled in your arms, barely standing, and breathing, breaks a piece of your sanity. You don’t know what your body is doing, but you zero on the couch, and only distinctly hear yourself muttering “We’re almost there, one more step” with every step you take.

You fall into the couch, your hands automatically reaching for his face, hoping to understand what is going on. You’re met with his blood-shot eyes and tear covered face, his breath is shallow, and you don’t know what to do.

Jungkook throws himself into your embrace, and you finally hear what he’s been muttering like a mantra all this time, and the words “please don’t leave me all alone” only serve to make your own tears escalate.

“I need to call the ambulance” you cry out, only for Jungkook to hold you tighter and cry out no one after the other. His breathing gets worse, and you realize if he doesn’t calm down, he will pass out.

“Jungkook, breathe.” You loudly breathe in and out, caressing his head, and feel him messily repeat your actions. Every second seems eternity long, and you pray to whomever sits upstairs, that he will be alright. With heavy chest you watch how his breathing normalizes, and sobs turn to hiccups, your body deflates, and you rest your head against his.

You allow your heart to stabilize, carefully listening to his shallow breaths, “Do you have any calming meds?” you whisper in his hair. He detaches from your skin and looks up.

“Please don’t go.” He defeatedly whispers. You hush him and rest your forehead against his, “I’m here, but I need to make sure you’re alright.” Uncertainly he nods, and points towards the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and Jungkook grabs your hand, “Kitchen” you whisper, and see the relief in his eyes. The moment he lets you go, you rush towards the room, you shake your head, as the kitchen counters are filled with bottles of medication, pills scattered all over.

You search through the bottles; your home never looked like this, Jungkook is a perfectionist, he never left a single dirty dish out, but now the space is covered in dust, no sense of your family home present.

Picking the right bottle, you search for water, only to realize it’s not here. You open the fridge to find it empty as well. Praying for the best, you open the trash, and you know you’ve failed him. You turn to the couch, to see Jungkook watching you with tears still running down his face.

You want to cry, but now is not the time, with both of you unstable no good will rise, and he needs you now. You try to silence your mind and fill up a glass with tap water. Thankfully, his family kept the apartment running.

You return to Jungkook and press the glass and pill in his hands. Silently you watch how he follows your command and bend down to your purse to fish out your phone. “What are you doing” he panics besides you. Before he starts to hyperventilate again, you grab his hand and as softly as possible whisper, “Only ordering food, don’t worry.”

You notice how your hands shake around your phone, barely managing to order, before your phone drops to the carpet. You catch Jungkooks gaze, and you don’t know if you should, but you wish that you’d be wrong,

“Have you-” you swallow, and try to keep composure, “Have you eaten anything since you’ve been discharged?”

He doesn’t answer you but continues to stare. You take a deep breath and continue, “Have you drank anything?”

If Jungkook doesn’t decide to murder you for your betrayal, you’re sure that the silence will. The dark circles and blood-shot eyes encourages you to get to the bottom of this, “Slept?”

You search his eyes for an answer, praying that he’s too stubborn to answer, rather than cavalier enough to try and withhold the truth from breaking your heart further. But he simply stares, no emotion travelling past the deep mahogany eyes.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” Is the only thing he whispers. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you wonder, perhaps he truly wants to see your pain, enjoy the way his self-neglectance makes you feel like you’ve failed.

You take another look at his disheveled form, gulp down your emotions and turn to the stairs. “Where are you going?” one single step away from him, makes his voice shake in panic, and you wonder how’d you get to this place.

With a look over your shoulders, “Run you a bath”, Jungkook nods his head in understanding, and silently follows you. You turn to him once he reaches the staircase, unsure if he’s strong enough to climb it.

He pushes your outstretched hand away, and mutters “I can climb the stairs.” You send him an unsure gaze, but his eyes harshly move up the stairs, urging you to go in a silent command.

The house truly looks the same, only difference being the coat of dust over the space. Automatically you go into the master bedroom, even if you haven’t been in this house for years, your body still remember every nook and creaky board.

You expect the bedroom to look the same as well, but the bed is filled with your clothes, as if they were thrown around. You send Jungkook a questioning gaze, but the same void eyes greet you; you wonder if this is how it’s going to be, him looking at you with empty eyes.

It’s funny how the one you love, can be the reason of your anguish. You promised to love one another till your dying bed, but here you are, looking at each other with nothing but hurt and betrayal.

Silently you go into the bathroom and start preparing his bath. When you left, you were sure that was the last time you stepped a foot in this house, you wanted to start over, so you left everything behind.

Even if your past actions were rushed, now you’re thankful for them. Cupboards are filled with oils and bubble bath solutions, you have to take a double look to check the expiration dates, but you sigh in relief, as the gentle smell of lavender and chamomile fills the space.

The smell takes you back to when everything was perfect, ever since you two started dating, bath was a sort of escape from reality. After a stressful day at work, you lit the candles, and drowned in each other’s embrace in midst of bubbles. Spilled wine, kisses on shoulders, laughter, and bubble beards - that was the reality.

You help Jungkook step into the bath, and your breath hitches as you see the full extent of his fragile body; scars from the crash, and skin pressed right against bones, bones so prominent that you’re able to see how his sharp shoulder blades bulge when he moves, every single rib, and back bone.

Now this is the reality.

You pour water over Jungkooks hair, the black strands lightly tickle his shoulders, visibly grown out over the past few years. Surprisingly, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning against the bath while you massage shampoo into his hair.

He’s looking at you, but you try to ignore his gaze, as every time your eyes meet, you’re met with dark circles and red, puffy under eyes. The room falls silent, the only sound being the water trickling from his hair.

Jungkooks shoulders slowly relax under your touch, and you move to massage his neck, careful, observing his body language. But his body only further melts into your arms, and when he sighs, you’re sure you made the right call.

The main reason of your visit escapes your mind, you gathered his answer when he named called Tae, but the possibility of him being involved in the ordeal seems great. You keep in mind to check if there’s any correlation between them.

“When I was under, all I remember are sparks of warmth enveloping me,” you stop your movements and look at his face, how his eyes search the ceiling, as if they hold the truth to his misery, “But then it stopped, and coldness overtook my body. Conscious enough to feel like you’re about to wake up yet suffocating in coldness and loneliness.” He whispers, and your heart clenches at the tears clouding his eyes.

“I think it’s because of you - when you stopped visiting me. I think I felt it.” He tilts his head up to catch your gaze, and you stare at him in silence, no words able to bear the barrier of guilt. At times you’ve caught yourself regretting your decision, heart crying out for your ex-husband, missing his touch, and soothing kisses. But you could never regret meeting Tae, he’s been with you through it all, and you’ll be forever indebted for that.

You caress his cheek, and he looks at you lost in thoughts, but when he pursues his lips, you know somethings weighting his mind. “How did you meet him?” Your fingers freeze and you search his eyes confused, is he actually asking about your husband? No uncontrollable rage behind the words?

But he looks just as lost as you are, but you don’t miss your shot and cautiously murmur, “At the hospital. His mom was admitted, and we leaned on each other for support.” His face scrunches as if your words were physically hurting him.

“I’m so glad I helped you bond over my anguish.” He spits out, and his body tenses. You see the patterns of anger return, and desperately whisper, “Jungkook-”

“Save it.” His tone is final, and his clenched jaw combined with his stiff body should’ve been a warning for you to drop it; but he gave you a small bead of hope that everything might be alright, and you don’t want it to burn out.

“If you’d give him a chance, you’d see that he’s a good man” your words are rushed, and so are his actions. His shoulders move to his ears in disgust, and he jerks his body away from your touch, his back turned to you, “How the fuck can you talk with such ease about your affair?” his voice raises.

“The idea of him touching you disgusts me; do you actually want me to hurt him?” you watch helplessly how he pulls his hair. His voice breaks and body shakes, and you pull him back into your embrace by his shoulders.

Your body leans over the tub, and you back hug him; arms around his shoulders, as he’s pressed against your chest. “How can you do that to me? I love you, and you promised to be mine years ago. Does that mean nothing to you?”

His voice shakes and body sinks deeper under water, face pressed against your arms. You calm your own heart and brush your nose over his hair, smelling the gentle lavender. Water splashes everywhere, your top soaked, but you don’t mind, as you try to ground him.

“I love you with all of my heart,” you murmur against his wet strands, “Never forget that.”

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; Jungkook cherishes your warmth like never before. Yes, he’s out of the void he’d been stuck in for years, but the feeling he told you about hasn’t faded.

The past week had been excruciating, he was alone in your home, in the place he should’ve felt the safest at. But void overtook his mind, coldness seeped under his skin, and he felt like he’s back in the cage he barely escaped from.

No matter how high he turned on the heating, his body was shivering from cold, and he awaited the day his body would freeze, and the pain would go away. Death seemed like an escape.

He realized this wasn’t his home, not really. His heart wasn’t bound to it, it was bound to you. And the further you were, the tighter the golden strings around his heart pulled, cutting off blood, and leaving him suffocating.

He detests the man who steals your warmth, who stole you from him. He doesn’t understand why you chose a farmer over him. Him, who does everything and beyond to fulfill your dreams, him, who painted the walls your favorite color, and made your forever home from stars that painted the sky golden.

Happiness doesn’t come to those who wait, it comes to those who fight for it. And he will fight for you. Physical alterations have never been his style, but if it comes down to it, he wouldn’t put it past him. But then again, he’s an attorney, and sometimes one has to use his advantage.

Silence is interrupted by a doorbell, slightly startled from the noise, you mutter, “Food must be here”. Before Jungkook manages to disapprove you quickly let go of him, and with a quick peck on top of his head, you’re flying down the stairs.

The moment felt too intimate even for you and moving out of his presence gives you time to collect yourself. You choose to ignore the confused look on the delivery-guys face; at this point you’re used to looking like a mess. Mascara smudged, hair tousled, clothes soaked. You simply smile and gather the bags from his hands.

Goosebumps cover your body due to the wet clothes, and your carry the paper bags away from your body, so they don’t get ruined as well. Jungkook awaits you in the bedroom, clean clothes on his back, and you watch how he gently removes your clothes from the bed and carries them into the walk-in closet.

You put the food down and follow him, the closet is still mostly full, not a single piece of clothing out of its usual habitat. Your fingertips traces over the elegant dresses, so soft to the skin like you’re touching a cloud.

Not so long ago this was your life, formal parties and theatre plays a part of your daily routine. Memory so far yet so tangible. And now you’re married to a farmer, overalls and dungarees is your daily routine. You don’t mind your life, found comfort in the routine of it; yet now, when you’re presented with the life you gave away, you can’t deny that at times you miss it.

“Here,” Jungkook hands you one of his t-shirts, “You must be uncomfortable.” Uncomfortable is an understatement, your skin irritated from the rough fabric, but he gives you his clothes in the midst of a full closet of your own. You bite back a remark and take it, quickly shooing him away to get dressed.

You pull the shirt over your head, all while not taking your eyes off of a particular dress. You take it off of the hanger and a smile graces your lips. This is the dress in which you announced your engagement; the red silk fabric reminds you of the sprinkles of champagne, and happily applauding family members. You take a closer look at the bodice and laugh, the maroon stain where Jungkook accidentally spilt his wine still visible, the day was too happy for you to be mad, you simply laughed it off.

Each of the pieces carry out a significance of your past life; the mahogany off-the shoulders dress for your first gallery exhibition, the elegant romper you wore for Jungkooks bachelors party, because yes, he refused to spend it without you. You’ve to pull yourself away from the memorial of your past, this isn’t real life.

When you come out of the closet, you sit next to Jungkook on the bed, and hand him a tray of soup – probably the best course of action, considering he hasn’t eaten in days. His hands shake around the spoon, his body exhausted from muscle extortion and sleepless days.

You look around the room, picture frames of your college days and wedding decorate the walls. Suddenly you can’t wait to go back to your husband, the overflow of memories overwhelms you.

A certain question keeps bugging you for more than a week now. You didn’t feel comfortable rising it in the hospital, Jeon judging stares left you relentless as it was, but this is Jungkook, you should be able to ask him anything, right? “Do you actually plan on suing the doctors?” you softly mutter as to not startle him with the hot brew in his hands.

He lowers the spoon and ticks his head, “If it wasn’t because of them, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Someone has to pay for it.” You watch how he continues to eat; to a certain extant you understand his stance, what wouldn’t you’ve done couple of years back for him to wake up.

But he wasn’t the one who spent every week crying on doctors’ shoulders, they offered you strength and compassion, and your consciousness spikes of you not being able to offer them the same in time of need.

Jungkook pushes the bowl away from him, and groans, “I can’t eat more. I feel sick.” He didn’t even eat half of the bowl, and you worry how fragile his body is, but you don’t push.

“Will you promise to eat more when you wake up?” he looks at you with a calculative gaze before he focuses on the bedsheets. “You won’t be here?” he emptily snickers “Am I your pity case?”

He still doesn’t understand. You grab his hand, and make him look at you “Jungkook, I love you with all of my heart,” you hope that the fierce look in your eyes confirms that, “But I have also promised to love him,” his face scrunches, and he looks away from you. Jungkook opens his mouth to cut you off, but you draw his head back to you and continue.

“I have signed a document stating that I will love him” you know that’s the last thing he wants to hear, but he has to understand you’re married, and your rightful place is to be besides your husband.

He shakes his head without saying a word, and falls into the pillows, “Like I said, someone has to pay for it.” You watch him and shake your head, he’s great at blaming everyone but you, for your own actions.

You put the food on the table, and climb back in the bed, remembering how hard it’s for him to sleep without you by his side. You draw the comforter over him and lie on your side watching him. He turns to you as well and intertwines your hands.

Neither of you speak, and you wait for Jungkook to close his eyes. But he fights sleep, and a droopy grin paints his expression, imagining him lying in the bed 7 years ago with his wife. But his stubbornness holds no strength to his prominent eye bags, and his eyes slowly close.  

Before he falls asleep, he whispers the lone thought eating his consciousness, “If you hadn’t married him, would you stay?”

Out of all the questions he’d asked, this is the easiest one. Without a second thought you whisper, “Always.”, and the last bit of stubbornness leaves his body, his smile increases, and he pulls your hands closer and kisses your knuckles.

His breath evens out and his cheeks form a pout as sleep invades his body. As peaceful as he looks, you can’t stop the unease creeping up your nerves. The view seems hauntingly familiar to his motionless body in the hospital.

You have to stop yourself from waking him up, just to check that the last week hasn’t been a fever dream, and he is, indeed back to life. You force yourself to stay put for a couple of more minutes, trying to prioritize his health over your discomfort.

But you feel uncomfortable leaving him like this, what if he awoke only for a moment, and will never be by your side again? You sit up, ready to quietly leave, but with one last look over your shoulder, you cave in and pinch him.

When he furrows brows from the unexpected sensory you breath out.

You contemplated leaving then and there, but guilt crept up your spine, like you were abandoning a lost puppy. Only in this scenario, the puppy is a grown adult, who’s begging for you to stay.

Standing by the door you take one last look at the apartment and decide you can’t leave it like this. Judging by Jungkooks exhausted state, you have more than enough time to rid this place of the painful reminders coating every inch of it.

You found some gloves in the kitchen and got to work. You didn’t stop till every corner gleamed and spent what little money you had on his groceries. Perhaps you haven’t made the best decisions, but you do care.

~

“He threatened you!” Taehyung looks at you flabbergasted, searching your eyes as to why you’re so careless of it.

You arrived home yesterday evening, and ever since then both of you have been arguing, neither willing to see the others POV. You told him the truth, Jungkooks distaste for Taehyung, his possible involvement in the lawsuit – you were honest and told him everything, and now you’re starting to regret that choice.

You drop your bag on the hallway floor, ready to leave the house and escape to your job, tired of the pointless arguing, “He’s lost, confused, what do you expect from him?” You never know how one might act in stressful situations, his life has turned upside-down; he missed out on most of his twenties – the time when one enjoys themselves, relishes the responsibility free life, and celebrates freedom. Of course, he’s lashing out.

“Not to threaten both of us, that’s for sure.” His words irk you; a sense of defensiveness comes over you, and you bite your cheek trying to calm down, “You don’t know him, he acts threatening, but his soul is gentle, he’d never hurt a fly.”

Taehyungs shoulders drop once he sees your pleading eyes; arguing has never been your pitfall, but these past weeks have been the most stressful of his life. Each muscle in his body is tense, ugly bursts of anger colored with desperation bubble in his chest. There is a reason why he vowed for better and for worse, you’re in this together.

Two letters fall from the doors mail slot and Taehyung bends down to grab them. You watch how he tears one of them open, while simultaneously hands you the other. Your name is printed on it, and you’re left confused when you see courts stamp next to it.

You’re about to open it, but before you manage to, Taehyung curses and you look up and meet his helpless gaze. “They’ve annulled my certificate till the court ends.” You purse your lips, trying to understand what he just said.

You move over to him and read the notice in his hands, “What does that even mean?” you look up and down from him to the letter, scared of the consequences that might entail, “That means hundreds of laid off workers, bankrupt business, and no income whatsoever. What are we supposed to do with court? All of our savings went into compensations, and no one wants to associate themselves with us-”

His words fade out as your gaze shifts to the letter in your own hands, you shoot daggers to it, and forcefully rip it open. Your eyes scan the text, and mutter “Oh my fucking god.”

At this, Tae stops his rambling, and when he notices court papers into your own hands, he nervously asks, “What?” You look up from the notice and clear your throat, “Um-”, you’re not sure where to being, your mind unable to process the information.

“It says that my divorce to Jungkook is annulled, as I have submitted forged documents,” his eyebrows scrunches and he shakes his head confused, “Wait what-”, but you’re not done, and you scan the other notice “And I'm being summoned to court as forgery is a criminal offence.”

“That’s not possible, I saw the doctors give you the documents with my own eyes!” his voice raises, but a particular symbol at the bottom corner of the notice gains your attention. You put both documents together to compare the stamps, and barely audible whisper “No fucking way.”

You snatch the documents from his hands, and when all the stamps match, you call out once more the only sentence your mind can muster, “Oh my fucking god!” You look at Tae in expiration and show the documents in his face.

“Bottom left. Under the prosecutor’s signature. Does the stamp remind you of something?” He takes the papers from your hands, and when he pursues his lips, and takes a double look at them, you know he’s got it.

“Is that…?” with a feigned laugh you finish his sentence, “Jungkooks company.”

You look at each other at a loss of what to do, when he said he had the power – he meant it. But never in million years did you think he would use his status against you, the corrupt ways of the law and one’s upper hand leaves you restless. Worst of all, he wants you to know it, he could’ve used any other company, one you wouldn’t recognize, and played his schemes unbeknownst to your knowledge.

But no, he wants you to know that he’s in power.

Unfortunately, you don’t see another choice but to fold under the pressure; your hands automatically reach for your pockets in search of your phone.

“Where is my phone?” Rushed you mutter, grabbing your purse to look for it there. Instead of answering, he asks, “What do you plan on doing?” Not finding it there you move to the coats rack, not minding if the jackets fall over in haste.

“I have to go to him. There’s no other choice.” Frustrated you sigh, and close to shout, “Where is my damn phone?!”

Taehyung comes up to you, and stops your actions, “Don’t go to him. We can fight this. We’ll take out a loan, and-” you interrupt him, “No one in their right mind will give us a loan. We’re already in debt as it is, you’re jobless, and my wage barely covers food. And now, we're both on trial.”

At that you groan, forgetting one crucial element, “Can you call my boss, I won’t be able to go in today. I still haven’t found my phone!” Taehyung stands silent, and after a while fishes out his phone to follow your command. He’s not able to rebut your words, he knows you’re right.

He puts the call on speaker, and after a couple of beeps your boss answers the phone, “Hi! It’s me. I know it’s a short notice, but something important came up, and I won’t be able to come in today. But I-”

“Save it. You have a week to collect your things, I have no use of a slacking employee. You’re fired.” With that she hangs up, and you’re left speechless looking at the beeping phone. You contemplate all of your life choices, when did life get so hard?

You look at Tae and drop your shoulders, “And now we’re both unemployed.”

He closes his eyes, and you see defeat written across his face when he moves to the windowsill and grabs your phone to hand it you. Quietly you thank him and drop it in your bag. Before you manage to step a foot out of the door, he calls after you, and you turn your head to look at him.

“He’d never hurt a fly, right?” He’s using your words against you, and you hate that he was right. But your blind love for your ex-husband left you fooled, and without a word you step outside.

~

You march down the hallway to Jungkooks apartment, hours you spent alone in your car only fueled your desperation. You didn’t bother calling him, somehow you felt like he knew you’d be there soon.

His door’s unlocked, and that only further proves your point. Not wasting a second, you walk through the apartment, and find him in kitchen cooking. This time he looks collected, hair in ponytail and clothes without a single crease.

He looks up from the cutting board and smiles, “I was wondering when you’d come by. I’m making your favorite, come, sit.” He points to the kitchen island, and you drop your bag on the table and move your hands on your hips.

“Why did you do that?” he washes his hands and looks at you questioningly. “Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He smoothly stirs the sauce in the pan and comforts you, “If you’re worried about the charges – don’t. I can take care of that once you move back in.”

You stare at him incredulous; how can he speak so calmly about it? “I’m worried about being called to court over procedures that aren’t even legal.”

“Submitting forged documents is a valid reason to being called in.” he ever so calmly states, and you feel your blood boil, “Every document I submitted is real. And I’m sure the doctors will testify so.” But he only smiles and shakes his head, and continues to stir the food, while cheekily clarifying, “Will they?”

You consulted five different specialists before proceeding with divorce, of course they’ll testify the same, as their answers broke your heart one after the other years back. You shake your head trying to figure out where he’s coming from, why wouldn’t they-

Till it clicks. “You threatened them. If they don’t comply, you’ll sue them.” Jungkook tilts his head and presses his lips together, “I don’t threaten people. I simply explained their options.”

Your mouth agapes, and you whisper, “This is insane, Jungkook.”

This gathers his attention, and he clicks his tongue and comes closer to you, “You said your affair is the only barrier between us. I got rid of the problem, you should be thanking me.”

“Marriage Jungkook! I’m not having an affair, I’m married.” You raise your voice and hit your chest. He never calls it what it is. A marriage. One you freely chose.

“No, it’s not.” His tone changes, and now you’re both angry. You recognize the deep tone, it’s the one he used in courts, not a single person willing to interrupt his matter-of-fact statements. “You’re lawfully married to me; your surname carries my legacy. Don’t ever compare me to your adultery.”

He might be right, but he seamlessly evades why you’re married to him – how he used his power to tie you to him. “I will fight this.” You bite back.

“Will you though?” you clench your jaw, “Because I don’t see you winning. Are you willing to sacrifice your boy-toy and his whole family for a fight you’ll never be able to win? Their business, which they created generations ago. Go against specialists, who will testify the same statements? Not to mention what resources you have; jobless, without a penny to your heart. Do you think that anyone will employ you, with a criminal record?”

Fighting back tears, you wince out, “How do you know that?” Seeing your glazed eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, and pats your hair, “You live in a village. Words travel fast.”

Unable to hold it in, you sob, feeling trapped with the burdens of life dragging you down. His words ring through your head, and you know – he’s not a man of who’s words should be taken for granted.  

Your sobs increase once you realize – this is not a fight you’ll ever win. He pulls you into his embrace, and you scrunch his shirt in fists, hating him for dragging you into this mess, hating him for getting on that motorcycle years ago, and leaving you all alone. Hating him, for he was the one you promised your heart to – hating him, for not being able to hate him.

He rocks you from side to side, and shushes your cries, “You broke our vows, but I promise to patch them.” He detangles your hand from his shirt, and you don’t notice him pulling your ring off your finger.

The sound of something falling catches your attention, and you see the silver bands lying on the floor. You look up and see him slipping your wedding ring on your finger, the golden ornament shining in the light bright as ever, as if it had never gathered dust in the drawer.

Jungkook kisses your forehead finally satisfied, the golden strings tying you back to your rightful place. Back to him.

“For better or for worse, baby”

 ~

Hi! Hope you enjoyed this story, as always would love to hear your thoughts on it. And thank you so much for all of the attention preview got, hope it didn’t disappoint ☺️

I haven’t managed to edit it yet, wanted to publish it for all of you, as you’ve been waiting for awhile.

As always, thank you for reading, hope you stick around! 🌻

[iomoru]

The Promise Kept

A/n: here's the part 2 for the Kinich angst! Im sorry if it took long (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू)

Genre: Canon Verse, Angst w/ a happy ending, Reader lives, Gn! Reader, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: After sacrificing your life to save Kinich, your secret deal with Ajaw threatens to let the god take over your body. But in a moment of desperation, Kinich’s devotion defies fate itself, bringing you back to life and breaking Ajaw’s claim. Together, you share a second chance, bound by an unbreakable promise.

part. 1, part. 2

As you collapsed in Kinich's arms, your vision blurred, and your pulse weakening, you could feel his desperation in the way he held you, his words a frantic, broken whisper.

"No," Kinich murmured, his voice choked with grief. "You can’t leave me…please, stay with me."

Your lips curved in a faint smile, a bittersweet acceptance of what you’d done. "I made…a deal," you breathed, barely audible, "with Ajaw."

Kinich’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "What kind of deal?"

"If I died protecting you," you whispered, your voice weak, "he’d take my body instead of yours."

Kinich’s gaze darkened with anger and sorrow as he clutched you tighter. "No… this can’t happen, I was supposed to protect you."

Your heart ached at his pain, but before you could reassure him, darkness began to seep in at the edges of your vision. The presence you felt waiting—Ajaw’s—grew closer, reaching to take what was now his.

But then, a warmth spread through you, foreign yet gentle. Kinich’s hands pressed against your face as he whispered, "If you were willing to give everything to protect me, then I’m willing to do the same. Please, come back to me."

In that instant, the god's oppressive presence faded, replaced by a soft, warm light. A voice, calm and ancient, murmured through the stillness. “It seems your bond is stronger than I anticipated…so be it.”

Slowly, you felt strength returning to your body, life warming your limbs once more. You gasped, drawing in a full, shaky breath as Kinich’s relieved smile was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

"You’re here…you’re really here," he whispered, his voice filled with joy and awe. He pulled you close, his embrace filled with a relief that went deeper than words.

The weight of Ajaw’s deal had faded, replaced by a promise fulfilled by something stronger—your shared devotion, unbreakable and whole.

A/n: I hope you guys can stop being emo now (*´꒳`*) (I kind of still want my angst tho for some reason :3)

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[literatureloverx]

Hello! This is my first time asking anything so, sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I love the way you write & your ideal type for Fyodor. I was curious, how would he have met his ideal type? I understand if you’re busy! Thank you

Hello dear!♥️ You’re not bothering at all, and I’m so happy that I’m the person you chose for your first request.♥️

I’m sorry it took me so long, and I hope you enjoy reading it!♥️

Fyodor likely saw you in a serene and sophisticated setting, such as a café, a theatre, a library, or a museum. I chose the Musée Fabre for this scenario.♥️

Religious themes, art interpretations, intrigued and manipulative Fyodor.

“A Beauty to Behold”

You move a loose strand away from your face, which reveals your small, innocent face.

Fyodor’s gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer, an odd thought crossing his mind: no one else seems to notice you. You were beautiful, undeniably so, and that alone was captivating. Yet the fact that others failed to acknowledge you, as if blind to the art before them, only heightened your allure, drawing his attention to you even more.

You, a beautiful young woman, dressed in fine stilettos and a figure-hugging, midi-length crème dress, holding a coat and a small bag of the same color in your arms, appeared to be the only one genuinely interested in the art before you—reading the text beside it and admiring the piece for more than five minutes now. ‘The Fallen Angel’ by Alexandre Cabanel.

He takes a calm stride toward you, coming to a halt just beside you—like a predator, one might think. His cool aura contrasts sharply with your warmth.

Fyodor moves a little closer to observe you more clearly, studying the way you react to the painting and the little facial expressions that appear on your beautiful features while you’re deep in thought.

After a moment, he hums, his voice light and charming.

“What do you make of this one, miss?” His eyes rest on the painting itself.

You look at him with your doe eyes, widened slightly as his approach seems to have come unexpectedly. You seem like an introverted person, and rather shy.

He finds himself intrigued by the sight of such innocence and naivety, and he can’t help the slight, cold smirk that spreads on his lips.

An unrealistically handsome man, tall and dressed in a dark suit that mirrors the intensity of his gaze, stands before you. It takes you a few moments to find your voice, but when you do, your words come softly.

“When I look at it, I feel the weight of what it means to turn away from God’s light. The angel, once so radiant and close to God, now sits alone, his face full of sorrow and defiance….”

You pause for a brief moment. “….it does not make me feel less empathetic towards the angel that is depicted in the painting. Because he does not embody the true evil that is the devil.”

Fyodor listens attentively, his smirk softening into a small, more genuine smile. Your words are not only intriguing but also reveal a certain depth and maturity. His gaze glides over you again, taking in the details of your face and figure in a subtle, nonchalant way.

“It's truly interesting, and also curious to hear someone not just throw around shallow, superficial phrases but instead look at the painting at a deeper, more analytical level, isn't it?”

“Are you in agreement with my opinion, sir?”

You say softly, with a shy undertone, subtly analysing his fine features. Clearly intrigued in your own, feminine, adorable way.

A quiet, gentle chuckle leaves Fyodor's mouth. Your shy, innocent manner of speaking and acting amuses and delights him, and he likes the way you’re looking at him, even if your gaze is shy, almost a tad timid. When he speaks, there's a slight hint of playfulness in his voice, though his sharp eyes never leave your pretty features for a second.

“That depends. Are you expecting praise, my dear?”

This was something that you did not expect, which makes you blush softly.

“Oh, I wasn't...”

You stutter.

“I…was...just asking if you agree with me.”

You recover quickly. “Do you have an opposite statement you would make?”

A smirk appears on Fyodor's lips again at the sight of your blushing and stuttering, and suddenly, he's very much enjoying this conversation. He can't put his finger on it, but there's something about this. About you. Something that is new. A lovely young woman that draws him in, makes him want to keep talking to her.

He lets out a small hum before he answers your question, his deep, melodic voice barely above a murmur.

“No, miss. I think you're absolutely correct.”

Your eyes widen, as if saying, 'you do?’. You look at the painting again, and then at Fyodor. He seems rather cold, calculating, analysing, looking into your soul, piercing through your comfort zone by playing a game of cat and mouse, in an almost nonchalant way.

He must be either bored or lonely.

“And you have nothing to add, sir?”

He shakes his head, his smirk fading into a small smile as he continues to study you, both amused and intrigued by how genuinely interested you seem in his opinion.

Your voice is so soft and sweet, he feels himself drawn to you without even realising it, the desire to prolong your conversation suddenly appearing in his head.

He can tell that you’re alone—a sweet, beautiful person like you, all by yourself in this grand museum, pursuing your passion. He figured out most of this —and more— within the first few minutes of meeting you.

The corner of Fyodor's lips curls up into a very subtle, almost mischievous-looking smile. He likes how you want to extend the conversation, and he decides to play along, simply because the thought of leaving you, this charming, beautiful young woman, alone does not please him.

He takes a step closer, now standing right next to you as he looks at the painting as well, his eyes roaming over the colors and shapes that create a fascinating composition.

“Well, I suppose I could say a few more things. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

You nod softly. “Yes, please do.”

Fyodor is satisfied to see that you seem to desire more, and he can’t help but let his gaze flit from the painting back to you, lingering on the soft features of your lovely face for a moment before he speaks again.

His deep voice is as melodic as before, but it’s clear that he’s more interested in you than in the art at the moment—a fact only he is aware of, something you could never tell.

“You're already correct when you say the angel does not embody true malice, but I think, in order to understand the pain and defiance on his face, it's important to look at what has led to his downfall.”

“You mean to say... the rebellion?”

He nods, a sly, almost mischievous smirk appearing on his lips once more with how he watches your reactions to his words, enjoying seeing you paying so much attention to his point of view.

Everything about you is sweet, and Fyodor is slowly becoming more and more intrigued, wanting to see more of it the longer you talk.

It is truly strange. He feels a certain way, and his frozen heart does not seem to keep up with this feeling.

“Precisely, my dear. The fallen angel chose to go against the Creator. That's what caused his downfall. His choice, no one else's.”

You nod thoughtfully, whispering softly.

“One is responsible for whatever one does. Only strong minds can withstand the corruption of the seven deadly sins… but no one can truly escape them, because being human means having weaknesses. One could say that human beings are sinful and foolish, for they cannot help but be corrupted. But then again… that is what makes them human. Being human is not a sin.”

The quiet, barely audible sound of your voice is like music to his ears, and his smile widens slightly at your words. You clearly possess a wisdom and intelligence that goes beyond your age, and this makes the interest and amusement he feels for you only grow. You’re so… proper.

You make for a far more interesting conversation than any intellectual or even philosophical topic he could go on about with other individuals. You lack his level of intellect, sure, but he can’t deny that you’re not someone who bores him.

Rather than challenging him, you present an understanding of his own perspective, which is more comforting than threatening. Something he is not used to. Not naive, but simply pure.

A power so few people have. An objective view on the matter of humanity.

His smirk turns sharp, and the subtle mischief in his eyes is more obvious as he continues looking at you while speaking.

“So very true, my dear. To fall... is your own choice indeed.”

You smile sweetly at him, your gaze demure and soft with intrigue.

“It is not common for me to find someone who shares my views.” You say gently.

“I heard interpretations about his tragic beauty, contrasting with the sorrow and defiance in his expression, symbolising the consequences of pride and ambition. It's often seen as a romanticised portrayal of Lucifer's fall, emphasizing themes of rebellion, loss, and the fragility of even the most exalted beings.”

You look at the painting. “But it never seemed enough to me.”

He hums in thought, allowing his gaze to flicker from your delicate features to the painting and back again as he listens to what you have to say.

Your words are eloquent, and they show an intelligence and depth of understanding that even people a lot older than you are lacking.

And yet, there is still something so innocent and sweet about you, something that makes him want to see those beautiful doe eyes of yours looking up at him in awe... He has to suppress a small chuckle, keeping his voice in a tone just as soft as yours is.

“So it seemed insufficient to you?”

“No one ever truly depicts the true evil in its pure form, don't you think? It was not easy to understand. The idea of there being a true, pure evil. I believe that is why so many people are romanticising it…”

You gaze at Fyodor. “…Because they can’t understand that he is simply, purely, evil. He chose to defy God and rebel—not out of altruistic ambitions, but because of his pride. He’s no human. He should’ve known better.”

You smile sweetly. “But it is nice to know that at least someone agrees with me.”

His smirk returns, and his expression turns sharp as he leans towards you ever so subtly, his deep voice still as soft and melodic as ever, though the slight mocking tone in his words is clear.

Ah, so you crave attention and approval from someone more capable of seeing what others cannot? How very cute. Not that he didn’t already figure that out.

“I couldn't agree more, miss...?”

You say your name softly. “…a pleasure to meet you, mister...?”

You extend your hand towards him in a warm, friendly manner. Fyodor takes it, your hand slender and delicate in his larger, paler one.

His grip is firm but gentle, as though afraid of breaking you. That is unlike him—he is used to breaking and destroying things.

And yet, there is something about you that makes him feel at ease. Your touch is almost like a relief. A sense of serenity in this twisted world.

The smirk on his lips never leaves, and for a moment he holds your hand a second too long, enjoying the feel of your soft skin underneath his fingers.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

The chemistry between you two could almost be felt from a hundred miles away.

“…Mister Dostoevsky,” you say softly.

He hums, the way you say his name causing his smirk to fade into a small smile—the first one that is truly and fully genuine.

Your voice is even more lovely when his name falls from your lips, and he can tell you’re not just another pretty young woman who pretends to have some knowledge about the topics discussed—not when just the way you pronounce his name makes a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

He gently lets go of your hand, although reluctantly, and his eyes never leave your pretty face as he continues speaking.

“You’re not a local if I’m hearing the right accent, are you, miss?”

“Yes, I’m not. I’m (any heritage). And you are… Russian?” you ask softly.

He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as he gazes at your innocently curious expression. You’re so open, so pure and genuine in the way you speak and present yourself, and it amuses and fascinates him in a way he can’t quite describe as he listens to your soft, melodic voice.

“Russian, indeed. I take it it’s rather obvious?”

You giggle softly. “The accent, yes, but the name says it all.”

He lets out a quiet, deep chuckle at the sound of your soft laughter, the corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. He likes your laugh and your voice, how gentle and sweet you are. It is like a fresh breeze.

“Ah, I was correct, then. You truly know more than the average young person.”

“I learned a little bit of Russian at home—that is why—because I enjoyed reading Russian literature, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough for me to present it to the ears of a native speaker…”

You sound shy. He can’t help the way he smiles at the thought of you trying to learn his language, and the fact that you’re doing it out of interest in his nation’s literature makes it only sweeter.

You truly are an interesting young lady, and the more he learns about you, the more your innocently demure appearance and your shy behavior intrigue him. He’s well-schooled enough to keep it hidden behind his polite smile.

“I would be delighted to hear you try, darling.”

You look shyly at him, seemingly regretting having admitted that you know a little Russian, stuttering:

“I—I’d r-rather not…”

Fyodor’s smile only grows at seeing your shy, embarrassed reaction. You truly are adorable, blushing and stuttering as you try to get out of speaking. He decides to have mercy on you.

“Very well, if you’re not comfortable doing so, I won’t pressure you.”

His eyes continue to study you, and he still has a hard time figuring out what it is about you that makes him want to continue this conversation.

You sigh softly, preparing yourself to bid this interesting stranger goodbye with your innocent gaze.

Oh dear, he can read you all too well.

“Mister Dostoevsky—”

“A moment, my dear.”

You are flustered because he seems to have such a sharp mind, which is both thrilling and unnerving in a positive way. The way he could tell that you were trying to leave without giving a real sign is truly admirable—and somewhat creepy, but you were too dazzled by him to know any better.

“I’m listening, Mister Dostoevsky.”

“There will be a party of artists and intellectuals in a few days, here at the opera. One of the more important ones, it is. I would enjoy having someone as intelligent and lovely as you there.”

(That’s a lie; there is no party and no intellectuals—only his rats, which he will use to create the ambiance.)

His amethyst eyes never leave your face as he speaks, observing every little expression you might make while listening to his words.

He can’t deny that he’s interested in you, a form of interest he’s not used to. A very dark, and deeply rooted desire that seems to shine through his icy walls.

Your eyes sparkle as you listen to his words, recognising the slightly flirty but cool undertone of his words.

His gaze is intimidatingly direct and deep, which makes your cheeks flush softly. You can’t help but be flattered by the invitation. And you certainly cannot say no to him.

There is just something about him that makes your heart flutter with joy and excitement. And you do have time during that particular timeframe before heading back to your own country. So… why not?

“I would be delighted, Mister Dostoevsky.”

His smile turns into a soft smirk, and he hums in slight satisfaction as you agree. The feeling is quite intriguing, to say the least. He gives a slight bow, not once taking his eyes off your face.

“So am I, considering I’ll get to see you there, my dear.”

You try to hide your flustered face by tilting your head innocently.

“Is there any dress code I should look out for?”

Fyodor hums for a moment. He has already calculated that you would ask this, as you seem to be a very proper young lady who does not wish to overstep. And you will, of course, wear what he wants you to.

“No, not really. The evening’s theme is white, so it would be best if you wear a white, elegant dress. Other than that, there’s not much to know. However, I am certain you shall look enchanting no matter what you wear.”

You blush. “Thank you very much. Then… s-shall I give you my phone number?” You ask nervously.

He smiles at your flustered reaction. You really are adorable, blushing like a little schoolgirl being asked for her number for the first time.

He cannot recall having had a woman so nervous about giving him, a man, her contact information, and he enjoys watching just how shy you get while doing so.

He takes your number with the same polite smile, but he does not use his phone or write it down anywhere.

“Thank you, and I will ensure to text you the details of the event later on, my dear.”

You are confused because he did not write your number down anywhere. No way he’d be able to memorise it this quickly, right?

“And… you can memorise it this instant?”

He doesn’t try to hold back his amused chuckle this time at your confused expression, and the smirk that’s back on his lips is one of mild mockery.

“Of course, my dear. I happen to have a good memory. It would truly be foolish of me not to make use of it.”

Woah!!! I had so much fun writing this. I’m down bad. ♥️

[animeyanderelover]

Hello again! Could I get a scenario where the darling is super emotional and cries all the time. She's not particularly scared or trying to be manipulative, just cries really easily. I thought it'd be interesting to have Ash from black Butler, Kanike from Tokyo ghoul, Shiapouf from hunter x hunter, and any other emotional yandere who you think fits. Crybaby vs crybaby. Thanks!

I’m currently on a vacation so I had to keep this limited to only a few characters.

Tags: @lovley-valentine7 @leveyani @chxxz @jamayah @cynniical @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @flaming-vulpix

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, isolation, manipulation, abduction

Crybaby vs. Crybaby

Ash Landers

▫️Tears are droplets of innocence, at least the tears that you spill are. It is a sight that he would even consider beautiful if it wouldn’t be for the grief that is piercing the essence of his soul when he sees you spilling tears of purity. Initially Ash mistakes your tears as a sign of fear, a thought that tightens his heart with anxiety and self-hatred but he doesn’t wish to bother you with his problems and keeps the stress and anxiety to himself, leading to emotional meltdowns when he’s all by himself. He’s convinced he’s doing something wrong every time you start crying and that behavior is hard to shake off even when he eventually figures out that you are just a very sensitive person. The sensitivity of yours is only more of what makes you so pure and perfect in his eyes. It is your tendency to cry so easily though that leads Ash to cuddle you even more all to not overwhelm your fragile feelings and to keep all anxiety and stress away from you. He will worship tears of happiness and joy but he will damn everyone, including himself, if your tears are ever caused by sorrow.

Shaiapouf

🎻His demeanor really depends on what stage of his obsession he is in already. If he’s still in his earlier stages where he overloads you with tons of expectations to be perfect Shaiapouf is going to be the main culprit for your tears. He may pretend to be nice but the disappointment due to your lack of self-control is written all over his face. He’s strict and his words are harsh, belittling you and even using his abilities on you to calm you and your tears down. If we’re talking about Shaiapouf after he has properly embraced his obsession things look quite a bit different. He’s using your sensitivity to manipulate you further into his arms, actively encouraging the overwhelmed meltdowns so that he can be the one to smother you and help you to calm down. He was born a servant, he needs to be needed by you and it just so happens that you need him too. That is at least what he tries to indoctrinate into your mind with attentive touches and sweet lies. What used to be a burden in his eyes has now turned into something precious and sweet which only gives him more reasons to isolate and protect you. After all the world outside would only overwhelm you.

Kaneki Ken

🔲Kaneki is already very fidgety and nervous, frightened that his darling is simply going to despise him and view him as the monster he thinks he is deep down as well. So the first few weeks after the abduction aren’t pretty. He knows that you tend to cry easily, his heart always tightened and hurt when he stalked you but it is still so much worse when he is the cause of your tears, especially knowing that those aren’t happy tears. You may as well have poured acid over his skin and it would have hurt him less than watching you spilling tears because you are frightened of him. His stomach is churning and worms are feasting through his pained heart, his own vision blurry as he stutters out apologies, longing to reach out for you yet terrified that you would only flinch away from him and only break his bleeding heart more. It is this initial trauma that has him trembling whenever you cry long after you’ve gotten through the worst parts and your tears are no longer his fault. His presence is hovering over you as soon as Kaneki senses that you’re crying, terrified that something or someone upset you.

Fudo Akira

👿Even after Akira’s transformation he has remained the crybaby boy he has been since his childhood. He’s highly sensitive and it is very likely that he may even start crying together with you when you start spilling tears first. At first he is a tad bit ashamed of it. In this new body of his he was hoping to be able to toughen up and to be your pillar of comfort yet his own tears get stained in his own tears the moment he sees you as he is just weeping with you, no matter whether you’re sad or very happy about something. Akira starts getting more comfortable the moment he realises that you actually seem to take comfort in the fact that even someone as intimidating and tough-looking as him has a very sensitive soul. So he just starts crying with you to comfort you and help you to regulate your emotions. If there is a negative reason behind your tears and it happens to be a person as well Akira may just pay them a visit later for some civilised talking but he prioritises you always first by comforting you before he weaponises his new strength and appearance. He hates it when your tears are those of grief and fear after all.

[shalomniscient]

“are you sure you have everything?”

lyney huffs a bit of a strangled laugh, but nods. he’s somewhat used to your fussing, but it still feels a little… not exactly embarrassing, but a warm heat makes its way from his chest to his cheeks nonetheless. he holds the magic pocket bag closer to his chest as you fix the fastenings of his fatui cloak yet again, fiddling with the clips and ensuring they’re secure and not about to fly off in the harbor wind as it blows freely around them all.

“i’m all set,” he assures you, then glances over at lynette. she’s still a little woozy—it is the break of dawn, after all, since father prefers moving under the dense cover of darkness, and though lynette is awake she’s certainly not ecstatic to be awake. as a result, she’s the next target of your fussing; you gently pat her cheeks to wake her up a little more, and she lets out almost a small, mewling noise before snapping out of her drowsy daze.

“you can rest a little more on the ship, lynette,” you say, and the young woman nods. “if you get seasick, i packed some medicine. and i made some food if you get hungry; it won’t last very long on a ship, so remember to eat it, okay? oh—i also packed earmuffs, be sure to wear them if it gets too cold, alright?”

“understood,” lynette answers, leaning into your touch as you pat her hair. she’s always been more physically affectionate with you, though she tempers herself when the familiar sound of boots and metallic heels on stone tiles echo behind all of you.

“i take it everyone is prepared to set off?” comes father’s calm, even tone. behind her is freminet; he isn’t dressed for travel, since he’ll be staying in fontaine, but followed along to see them off. she’s dressed somewhat similarly, but unlike lyney and lynette who seem to drown in their cloaks, father wears it like a mantle—the fur broadens her already broad shoulders, and she looks more like a king than ever. and yet despite that, you simply turn and stride over to her, your hands reaching out to smooth down the lapels of her cloak.

“just double checking,” you hum, though there’s a little bit of a sigh in your voice. “i think i packed everything.”

father offers you a mild look. “the children know how to pack their own things.”

“i know, but i wanted to help,” you reply, and lyney swears he sees the hard lines of her face soften imperceptibly. there’s a slackness to her normally tense posture as you do all your last minute checks—cufflinks? i have them. hand cream? yes. ID? all settled, dearest—and lyney has to marvel on the sway you have over their typically unshakeable father.

“we should head out,” she says gently, taking one of your wrists in a tender, dark hand. a brief flicker of stubborness flashes across your expression, before you sigh.

“ah, before i forget…” you produce a tiny pouch, and then place it into father’s open palm. she regards it curiously, tilting her head. there’s a rustle of plastic inside, but also the clack of a few hard objects hitting each other. “coffee candies,” you explain, “for when you feel sleepy.”

“thank you,” father says, her tone as warm and soft as it always is with you. she accepts the pouch, and slips it into one of her cloak pockets. “i will remember to have them.”

you huff. “you better. i’ve already told lyney and lynette not to let you skip meals, as you’re so prone to do.”

“is that so?” father asks mildly, glancing at them both, and it takes quite a bit to not shiver under her questioning gaze. lyney truly has no idea how he’ll convince father to eat later on this trip, but he figures dropping your name a few time should do the trick. he hopes.

“it is,” you say firmly, and then your tone softens again. you look up at father, and lyney cannot see your expression from here, but he knows the same is reflected in father’s—loving, with a hint of departure’s sorrow. “be safe. come home.”

“alwaus,” father answers, and lyney, lynette and freminet have the sense to look away when she leans down to kiss you chastely. they only look back up when father steps over to them, leaving you and freminet on the other side of the dock. she levels freminet with a look. “do not forget your duty, freminet.”

he nods resolutely, hugging pers a little tighter. “of course, father.”

(just a few moments ago, she’d pulled him to the side and gave him a direct order, as the fourth fatui harbingers and the knave.

“you will protect the house with your life,” she had said, her tone brookering no argument, though it wasn’t as if freminet was looking to argue. and though father has said ‘the house’, freminet had lived long enough there to know the truth of her words.

“yes, father. i won’t let anything happen to mom.”)

and then, with the bellow of a horn, their little ship sets off into morning light. lyney watches father’s face carefully as the dawn breaks, casting the harbinger’s expression in shades of warm gold. she’s uncharacteristically unguarded in this brief flash of a moment—not that she would ever admit such a thing, even upon threat of death. but lyney knows love is most felt when it is leaving, and so even as she turns on her heel to enter the cabin, he knows she’s already counting down the days before she can return home—return to you.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 9

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 9

Word Count: 4512

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Masterlist |Chapter 8| | |Chapter 10🔞|

Your soft, steady breaths are like music to Law’s ears. After shedding all the tears you had in you for that bastard, you were so tired that you immediately fell asleep, curled up against his chest.

Where you belong.

Law closes his eyes tightly, trying to gather his thoughts. This was all supposed to be fake and he couldn’t hold his feelings together for one freaking weekend. He knew it was dangerous when he asked you to do this, he knew that sometimes boundaries blur and bend and things that weren't supposed to happen, happen. Like it obviously did.

He had been so rattled by his uncle - he should have foreseen that he was going to use Monet, it was so obvious! - so insecure about your feelings, and about himself, about how he was believing every word out of Doffy’s mouth and distrusting you. Knowing you were there for him but not knowing for sure if you would leave him for more. Just like Monet had. 

He let himself lose control, and his feelings for you stirred violently like a storm. You are so much more than just a ruse for him. You are special. You make him feel things he long forgot how to feel, to see life in colour again, instead of just black and white. You make him plan for a far-off future and want to be more. More than just a doctor, more than part of the Donquixote family. More.

And he almost threw that away just to hear you say that you belong to him…

“I’m yours, all yours Law.”

You’d said it. Without the signal. The words had come out of your mouth and they rang so sweet in his ears. He’d been thinking about it, even before he asked you to be his fake girlfriend. Of how it would feel to have you by his side, to call you truly his. But he’d soon forgotten that fleeting dream. He didn’t have girlfriends. He wasn’t built for relationships, that dream had been shattered a long time ago. 

Yet, now, watching you sleep peacefully in his arms, feeling the pang of hurt and the slow spread of the embers of anger, after hearing you speak about the relationship you had with your ex, realisation hits him like a blow to the nose.

He really wants this - you!

Everything you have to offer him: every smile, every taunt, every giggle and glint in your eyes. But he also wants your broken pieces, your sadness, your sorrow, your guilt and your shame. 

He’s a genius. He can help put you back together, support you on your path until you become stronger and sturdier. By his side. 

A soft whine and a hiccup escape your lips as you take a deep breath, your body still tired and reacting to all the tears you’ve shed, and Law pulls you closer to him. 

He can’t help but notice how well you fit into his arms, as if you were moulded just for him.

Moulded. Fuck.

This is what’s keeping him awake, ultimately. It’s not just you in his arms. It’s the fact that you spent four years of your life in a fucked-up relationship with an asshole who didn’t appreciate you. Worse than that, he made you feel small, unimportant and disposable.

Law feels like punching something.

He uses surgery hours as an outlet for his frustration and anger. There is something about the steady tick-tock of the clock, the light beeping and buzzing of the machines, the ventilator breathing air into a patient's lungs and his steady hands making precise surgical cuts. Something that climbs the borders of saving lives and transcends him.

It's a way to control his own life, to bring steadiness and calm into an otherwise chaotic mind. Because as cool and collected Law always appears, inside there's a raging beast waiting to be unleashed. 

And the sight of your tears, your vulnerability, your broken - shattered - mind makes the beast roar and rattle its cage, demanding to be let out, clamouring for blood. 

Law shuts his eyes even tighter, smothering away the remnants of fury forcing their way out of his system. He places his nose near your head and inhales your shampoo, a scent so characteristically yours that does more to cage the beast inside than ten straight hours of surgery ever could. 

He realises you didn't tell him the name of your ex. Law can very well add two and two together, so it's quite clear that he knows, or that you think he might know who your ex is. You've let slip some details: his father is a powerful man and owns a big company, though you didn't tell him what kind of business the company is in. You said he frequented a lot of events, so he's from an influential family or, at least, has a lot of money. He's from Grand Line City, though that fact is basically useless since it's an overly populated, bustling city. 

This doesn't narrow it down much. Assholes with a lot of money are a dime a dozen. He doesn't even have to go too far, Doflamingo is just in the other wing of the mansion. 

With a sigh that screams finality and closure, Law lets it go. If you didn't mention it, it’s because he doesn't need to know, or you don't want him to. Both perfectly valid reasons. He also didn't want you to know about Monet. What a fucking mess. Now you know and your purpose didn't waver one bit.

As sleep finally claims him, the last thought on Law's mind is that his trust in you wavered, but it's now built up so high that he's willing to bet everything he owns on how you won't disappoint him. Not even if Doflamingo brings his big guns. 

Whatever they may be. 

-*-

You don’t dislike mornings. They might not be your favourite thing in the world, but they aren’t the worst. Sometimes you like to spend a few extra minutes in bed, lazing around because there is nowhere softer than your bed. 

Except today you aren’t in your own bed. 

Yet, you have never felt safer or more content than at this exact moment. Even without opening your eyes, your brain clicks into place and you know why. Law. You remember him holding you, though you don’t really remember falling asleep. 

With a contented sigh, you open your eyes and see a pair of soft amber orbs gazing at you. He seems so bare without his stern gaze, it’s a sort of vulnerability - you notice - but not like the unhinged one he showed you last night. This vulnerability doesn’t stem from pain or sorrow… it’s… affection?

“Morning.” He whispers and you smile.

You don’t remember being this entangled with him when you fell asleep. You only had your head on his chest now, it would appear that sometime during the night, you shifted and draped your leg over his, arms hugging his torso tightly.

You should let go.

There’s an annoying voice in your head telling you this is wildly inappropriate, that it’s crossing some kind of unspoken barrier, yet he doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the proximity and you’re experiencing bliss. So you don’t move. Not yet, at least.

“Morning.” You say back to him. Your voice is still throaty and scratchy and, for a moment, you can’t remember why it’s like this, until images of Ichiji flash through your mind, erasing your smile and darkening your gaze.

Law shifts slightly and you think you’re overstaying your welcome so you start to move. Instead, he pulls you tighter, his hand tipping your chin to keep you looking at him. “It’s all in the past, okay?” His fingers climb and graze your ear, where your earring would be if you were wearing one. The signal. “You’re with me now. I’m the only one allowed in your mind, sweetheart, understand?”

He uses that velvety voice, laced with a hint of authority and you clench your thighs instinctively. He might’ve said that for the purposes of your fake relationship, but he’s right. Ichiji is past and he has no more right to claim space in your mind. 

“Use your words, you know I like to hear you speak.” The drawl in his voice is more pronounced in the morning, you notice, raspier, sexier. Just another fact to add to the never-ending list of things you now know about Trafalgar Law. What will you do with all that information when you inevitably part ways?

You take a deep breath, blush and look to his chest before opening your mouth, but the words remain frozen in your throat when his whisper tickles your forehead. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! It’s too soon for these games! And you're pressed so close to him that you’re sure he can feel the way your nipples hardened at his gentle command. Yet you’re compelled to do as he says so you look up, lips parted, small, panted breaths escaping them and flushed cheeks. There’s a hint of something in his gaze, something darker than lust, bordering on obsession, but you dismiss it quickly.

“I understand, Law.” You reach and use the signal in his ear, just a faint touch, but he doesn’t stop your hand, so you let it fall down and trace the curve of his perfect jawline, then your ghost of a touch moves to his neck and collarbone. You see his throat bob up and down and the fact that you might be affecting him exhilarates you, so you press on. Your fingers trace down his T-shirt and follow the shape of his pecs, lingering on the nipple and he hums low, not quite a warning, he must be enjoying your touch. “I will only be thinking about you…” Your eyes drop to the way his chest heaves slightly and you catch your lower lip with your teeth to contain a satisfied sound.

The hand he has on your back climbs up and he entangles his fingers in your hair, gripping them and tilting your head gently so you can return your gaze back into his eyes. You let out a gasp, they’re dark with desire. “And what will you be thinking about, exactly? What will I be doing in that pretty little head of yours?”

Your leg is still entangled with his and you have to fight your desire to shift and straddle him, but your fingers keep going lower. They trace his abs now and they’re as firm as a wall. Your head starts to fill with deep fantasies about what Law could be doing to you in your head, but they’re all so real and consuming, and you’re both in such an already vulnerable position, that you know any spark can ignite this flame between you, so you swallow hard and sigh. 

“Kissing. You’re kissing me.” That should be safe enough, right?

Wrong.

Law grabs your hand just as you - unconsciously - hook a finger on the waistband of his pants. Boundaries, boundaries! Stupid decision! Yet he doesn’t say anything, he simply rolls you over, his knee slotted between your legs, just as you were before, and he raises both your hands above your head. His eyes devour your surprised expression as a lone gasp leaves your lips. 

“You know what to do to get me to kiss you, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Beg.

“Please, Law…” You don’t even try to fight it. He’s watching you with hungry eyes, hair unkempt into perfection, a sleepy, dreamy look on his features and you need him to kiss you.

“Please what?” He leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours, and your hands twitch instinctively, but he’s holding them in place. His other hand presses slightly against your neck, feeling your pulse racing under his thumb.

“Kiss me! Please kiss me, Law, pl-mmmph.” He swallows your pleas as his lips crash against yours.

You can feel him pressed against your thigh, and the thought makes you moan softly into his kiss. He uses that opening to take your tongue in his and deepen the kiss. It’s desperate, it’s lustful, it’s-...

Knock, knock, knock.

Over.

Law grunts and rolls off you, recovering his voice way faster than you ever could. “Who is it?” However, you can detect a hint of impatience and annoyance. 

“It’s me!” Cora answers and Law sighs. He gets up, slightly adjusts his pants, and, checking back to see if you’re covered, opens the door with a scowl. “Morning, Law! I’m so sorry to bother you two so early, I really am!” He does sound sorry. “Baby 5 wanted to let everyone know that she moved the brunch one hour earlier because she has games planned for after and she doesn’t want anyone to be late. Especially you two.” He lowers his voice. “She loved your girlfriend, Law! We all did.”

You blush and smile to yourself. You must be doing something right, then. Law’s family liked you. Well… maybe not Doflamingo yet, but you don’t need him to like you, you just need him to leave Law alone. 

When Law speaks, his voice is warmer. “Sure thing, Cora. We’ll get ready soon. Thank you for letting us know.”

“Anytime! Ouch!” You hear the sound of glass tinkering and something crashing before Law sighs and Cora says ‘I’m okay! It was just a vase!’ 

When Law closes the door, you’re already up and heading towards the bathroom. “I’ll be ready soon.” You state before closing the door. 

Slumping your body forward, you grasp the porcelain of the sink, taking rapid, shallow breaths. What is going on? You two keep using the signal and saying things like ‘If this were real…’ yet, you’re thinning the borders of the boundaries, mixing emotions and lust and sorrow from your past. You should stop.

For both your sakes, you should stop.

Perhaps you should not touch each other outside the pretence in front of Law’s family. Because he kisses you with such ferocity that it’s as if you’re his. Like you belong to him, though you’re just friends. But are you really just friends?

This tension and attraction keep building and expanding and there’s only so much space to take before it explodes, consuming you both. 

And by all that is sacred, how you wish to be consumed by Trafalgar Law. You want to give everything of yourself to him, to drown in his golden gaze, to be lost inside his kiss, to feel all of him within you. 

Could it be so wrong, if you gave in to your desires? You’re sure he wants you too… It's mutual. But… would it be too complicated, emotionally?

You sigh and start to work on your morning routine. You’ll just have to get through this weekend without entangling yourself further. Once you’re both out of this stifling, constricting environment, you’ll deal with whatever it is you share.

Or might share.

-*-

As with dinner last night, brunch and the afternoon games require a semi-casual fit and you select another cocktail dress. The rehearsal dinner is formal, though, so you and Law will have to change before dinner time. 

“You look stunning.” Is his usual compliment, one you should already be accustomed to but, as you become more aware of the growth of your feelings for this man, the more flustered you get. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t let Doffy mess with your head today.” Law seems much more composed this morning. Maybe after the initial shock of interacting with his uncle again - and now that Doffy doesn’t have the same ammunition as he did yesterday - Law won’t let himself be rattled by his provocations so easily. 

“Maybe I should say the same?” You smile and he grunts back an agreement. “So, brunch and games? What kind of games?”

Law sighs as you both exit your room, his hand holding yours, just as he did yesterday. Yet, today, you can’t help a tingle of electricity from climbing up your arm at his touch. ‘Tell me you’re mine.’ You have to shake your head to get rid of your thoughts. You’ll never be able to forget those words. 

Just four words alone can undo you. 

“Who knows what games… Baby 5 is all about internet trends and Pinterest aesthetics. I’m sure it’s something boring, dumb and flashy.” You giggle at his silliness as you both descend the steps. Baby 5 told you yesterday that more guests would be spending the day at the mansion as part of the wedding festivities, so you’re already expecting more people, about a dozen more or so, as is usual in rehearsal dinners. But as soon as you step outside to the garden, you gasp. There have to be about fifty more people than yesterday. It already feels like a small wedding. 

Does Law know all of these people? 

Pressure starts to build in your temples as you think about all the people you are now required to fool. What if you can't do it? What if someone knows Law from childhood and asks you a question you don't know how to answer? Can one question alone crumble this facade?

Biting your lower lip and squeezing Law's hand tighter, you start to mumble about Law's education growing up, and private tutors, as well as all the extracurricular activities he took in high school. Will it come up? Probably not, but it's better to be prepared and-... 

“Relax.” Law's soothing voice against your ear makes you whimper and shiver. He startled you since you were so deep in thought, but your reaction wasn't about the jump scare. It was the tingling that's still warming your skin, the electricity that shook you to your core. How are you going to survive two and a half more days of this tension? 

You take a deep, steadying breath as Law squeezes your hand back. “You've got this, sweetheart.”

“We’ve got this.” You correct him and he chuckles. 

As you delve deeper into the party, you get a good look around. The garden is huge and luscious, with abundant greenery and beautiful flowers. The white and golden tents where the rehearsal dinner and the eventual wedding will be held tomorrow, cast an ethereal feeling over the scene, a sort of fairytale-like feeling. Brunch is being served outside the tents, on a small patio. There are rows of tables with every food imaginable and your stomach rumbles just by looking at it. 

“Hungry?” Law asks with a chuckle. 

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It's been an eventful night. I could eat!” Crying makes people hungry, apparently. 

You and Law make your way to the buffet and fix yourselves a plate, all the while Law keeps introducing you to people: family friends, investors, business partners… He knows everybody. It's overwhelming. The way he handles these people makes you wonder why he doesn't want to follow in Doflamingo’s footsteps. He'd be wonderful at it, he's a natural, though you notice he seems a bit stiffer than his usual self. As a doctor, he’s so much more at ease and it dawns on you that it’s most likely because he loves what he does. 

Law's speaking with an important investor a few feet away from you, and you find yourself staring at him, a strawberry dangling over your lips as you take him in: tanned skin, golden eyes, sharp features and beautiful dark hair. Fuck. He's perfect. You bite the strawberry and suck, your eyes darting to his lips and thinking about the smouldering soul-shattering kisses you shared yesterday and this morning. 

“Oh, to be a strawberry, right now.” You swallow hard and stifle a cough, having been brought out of your fantasy world by a whisper near your ear. A cold, shiver-inducing whisper. 

“Doflamingo, sir!” You gasp, trying to regain your composure and shake away the cold chills that linger on your skin. 

“What was that pretty head of yours thinking about so seriously, princesa?” He hums low, his figure hunkering down over you, making you feel small and trapped. But you are intent on not letting him get to you. 

Squaring your shoulders you train your smile back onto your lips. “I was just observing your nephew, sir. It's like he's in his element speaking with investors. He has a lot of business savvy.” Your smile softens as Law locks eyes with you, his gaze hardening as he sees Doffy next to you. 

Doffy's chuckle is cold and calculated. “Cariño, I know he's perfect for the job. He just never wanted it. Maybe you can convince him?” Your head whips to the side as your eyes bore into his. You can see the red glinting behind his sunglasses and it's like it's piercing straight into your soul. 

“I would never.” You relish in the way Doffy's smile falters. He was probably waiting for you to cater to his needs, trying to please him. “Law is a gifted surgeon, a wonderful doctor and very passionate about his job. He might be good with business matters, as he's good with everything he sets his mind to, but it's not his calling.”

Law approaches and catches the ending of your speech. His hand slithers and takes hold of your waist pulling you against him. The way he smiles at you warms your heart and you lose yourself in his gaze once more. 

You are so doomed. You're in way too deep. Going back to being friends after this is going to destroy you. 

“You're right, sweetheart, as I've told my uncle repeatedly.” Law's smile as he rests his eyes on his uncle is as surgical as his operations. To his credit, Doffy's is as intimidating as the man himself. Somehow you have the perception that you're standing in the midst of a battle from a war that started long ago. And you feel very out of place. 

“Ah, indeed nephew, you have. But we shall discuss that matter further some other time.” He places his hand near his heart again as his gaze pins you down and you shiver in Law's arms. “Princesa, you're welcome to join me at my table.” He picks up a bowl of strawberries and raises his eyebrow with a lustful smirk. 

Your face flushes so hard that you fear you might combust on the spot. All you trust yourself to do is shake your head, but Law's hand is already pulling you away. “Thank you Doffy. We politely decline.”

-*-

“There's so many people here today…” You murmur as Law pulls you by the waist, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “And they keep staring. People don't really expect to see you with a girl, Law!”

Law grunts and keeps pulling you until he finds a small empty table where you both sit with your food plates. 

“That's not it, sweetheart.” His voice seems strained. 

“What's not it?” You flush under the scrutiny of some investors you saw Law speak with earlier and fidget with your hair. Is there something wrong?

“They're not looking because they don't expect to see me with a girl nor because there's something amiss with your appearance.” He brushes your hand aside, releasing the hair you managed to trap back in your hairdo to how it was. “It's because you're breathtaking.” He sounds annoyed as he says it, and yet you still blush deeper. 

“Shut up, Law.” You sound like a petulant child. But a flattered one. “You're wrong.”

“Sweetheart, I'm never wrong. And these people should learn that staring at what's mine comes with a cost.” He growls as his eyes squint and you can't help a flutter from twisting your stomach. There's that word again: mine. You should feel angry at him for being this possessive, instead, it makes you feel safe and protected. Like he can keep all that can harm you away from you. 

“I'm yours, Law?” You can't help the words from fleeing from your mouth. 

‘I'm yours, Law, all yours.’ You'd said the words. 

The corner of his lips curls as his piercing eyes pin you to the spot. “You are for the weekend.”

Push, keep pushing so you can lose control. 

“How about after?”

His throat bobs up and down and he takes a long gulp of his coffee. “We’re supposed to go our own way. Go back to being friends.” The strain in his voice is nothing compared to the clenching in your chest. 

Push some more. Push. Even if your heart is clenching, your mind keeps telling you to go on. 

“So you won't mind if I date another man?” Law's coffee cup almost shatters with the force he bangs it against the table. Your lips part to let out an amused gasp as the flutter in your belly increases tenfold. 

To his credit, after a dark shadow passes across his eyes, Law quickly regains his composure. “Let's talk about that after this weekend, shall we?” The slight sharpness of the usual velvet of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. 

Can you push a little more until he gives you what you want? 

But what do you want, really? To see how far you can push him until he makes his claim? Until he pins you somewhere and claims your lips with his? It's embarrassing how much you want to get lost in him again, how easily you'll fold if he so much as looks at you a certain way. 

This hold he has on you is scary. And so exciting. “Why not now, Law? I could start networking…” You glance at the guests with a glint in your eye, successfully bothering Law so much that he starts fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. “So many choices.”

You are still finishing your sentence when Law hooks his hand beneath your chair and drags it all the way next to his with a very loud screech. He only stops when his face is inches from yours. “Say that again, sweetheart. Say it while looking right into my eyes.” He sounds a little bit unhinged, maybe you’ve pushed far enough. 

Or have you? 

You touch his earring lightly while a smirk graces your lips. “I'm just stating the obvious, there are so many single-...” You don't finish your sentence because his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you and capturing your lips with his and it isn't in the innocent way he pecks you when in public. It's in the very fiery, soul-shattering way you’re already growing addicted to. 

“Law…” You whisper when he finally lets go, after Baby 5 and some of the younger guests start to cheer you on, your ears as red as a tomato. 

“Gotta let them know you're taken, sweetheart, they keep staring.” Your lower lip is still tingling and burning from the contact as he smirks at you. 

Then he continues to eat the food on his plate as if he hasn't just rocked your world in front of all the guests. 

And he didn't use the signal. 

-*-

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @jqperi @rainbow2312 @ren-ni

|Chapter 10🔞|

[skauni]

Why Did It Have To Be Us…?

!!WARNINGS!!: Miscarriage, BPD, Mentions of Depression, Mentions of Alcoholism, Arguing, False Accusations, No Happy Ending.

It’s been 3 weeks since you lost the baby.

You don’t understand what you did wrong, you listened to the doctors every word. Why did you have to lose the baby?

You and your husband, John, had been trying for 6 months to have kids. And when you finally got pregnant, it only lasted a month and a half before you lost the baby. That was 3 weeks ago, and John was on a mission where he had no contact with you. Since you lost the baby, you fell into depression and simple things started making you angrier than they would.

You started drowning your sorrows over the loss of yours and John’s baby that neither of you got to meet in alcohol and staring at walls, zoning out as you imagined what could have been. What you would have named the baby. Maybe Jasper if it was a boy, like John wanted to name him. Or Maya if it was a girl, like you’d wanted to name her. You didn’t know the gender of the baby, neither of you wanted to. Wanting to keep it a surprise for the baby shower/gender reveal party.

John had come home during you zoning out on the couch, it’d been 4 weeks after the miscarriage by then. You were snapped out of it when you felt him lay between your legs to place his ear on your abdomen. Listening for the heartbeat that he was unaware would no longer be there. You started crying as soon as he had, startling him and making him sit up. “Love, what’s wrong? Is it the pregnancy hormones-?” He asked in alarm, you put your face in your hands as you cried.

“I lost it… I lost the baby John, I’m sorry…-” you finally managed to hiccup out. His expression visibly tinged with sadness before he gently pulled you into his arms. “Don’t touch me!” You yelled before pushing him off and crying more as you stormed to the bathroom to weep in the tub since your favorite candle you often lit to calm down was in there.

It was a few hours before you came back out. When you did, John was on his computer searching up ways to make you feel better about losing the baby.

After a mental battle, you shuffled over to him and planted your face in his back with a soft whine. Afraid you’d react like you had earlier, he didn’t return the touch. “How are y’feelin’ love…?” He asked quietly. “What can I get f’ya?” He added. You just shook your head silently and he understood. You didn’t want anything. Not right now. Not after losing what had been your everything for only a few months. “Why did it have to be us…?” You finally managed to mumble out after a struggle to make your voice more easily heard. You felt like something was stuck in your throat. Or something was constricting it. Making it impossible to speak, breathe, or swallow.

John sighed quietly. “These things just happen love, we can always try again when you’re ready…” he tried to comfort. You simply nodded. Eventually, getting tired of standing, you sat in his lap. Cuddling him for comfort. Sniffling out quiet apologies for losing the baby. He just held you and gently rocked you, rubbing your back in hopes you’d calm down eventually.

As weeks passed on, the arguments started. John watched as you brought home yet another cheap wine bottle to drown your sorrows in. He clenched his jaw. “You should stop drinking like that. It’ll ruin our chances at trying for a baby again. Y’know what alcohol does to you love.” He said. And it made you snap. “I don’t want to try again!” You yelled. His face broke into a scowl as he got up. “Don’t want to? Why? Because you think it’s one of your stupid signs from the universe?” He retorted. You put the wine down before slapping him. The argument broke out from there.

It was about one in the morning when John had enough of it. “WELL MAYBE IT WAS YOUR FAULT! FOR ALL I KNOW, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED OUR BABY!” He yelled. You froze. Your anger turning to dread. “Y-You don’t mean th—” he cut you off. “I DO! You have always had a self destructive mindset towards the idea of trying for a baby! And the second I leave after we successfully have one growing, you miscarriage! How am I supposed to believe you didn’t kill our baby!?” John snapped. You staggered back. You couldn’t believe his words.

After a long silence he realized what he’d said and tried to take it back. “Love I—” he tried but you pushed past him sobbing. Slamming the door to your shared room and locking him out. Stuffing some belongings into a small-ish travel trunk after calling your mother if you can go stay with her for a while. When you came out he was about to knock on the door. “I want a divorce, Johnathan.” You sniffle out. John freezes. You only use his legal name when you mean what you say when you’re sad or angry. His shoulders sagged and he staggered back. Watching you in stunned silence as you walk out the front door. John knows you’re never coming back. He knows he’s messed up. He messed up big time… and now he couldn’t take it back…